The Archaeology of Verbal and Nonverbal Meaning:: Mesopotamian domestic architecture and its textual dimension 9781407300450, 9781407331003

Table of contents :
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Contents
List of Figures
List of Tables
Acknowledgements
Introduction
Chapter 1: Theories of meaning and archaeology
Chapter 2: Nonverbal meaning as implicit deixis in archaeology
Chapter 3: Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction in Mesopotamian domestic space
Chapter 4: Dynamic interaction of semiotic systems through the house cycle
Chapter 5: The spatial dimension of legal and technical discourse
Chapter 6: The ethnographic dimension of verbal and nonverbal semiosis
Chapter 7: The body in language: towards a theory of the relation between verbal and nonverbal meaning in archaeology
References
Index

Citation preview

________ Paolo Brusasco has carried out archaeological excavations in Iraq, Syria, Italy and the Mediterranean, and, based at Turin University, currently lectures also at the University of Genova, Italy. His publications include Family Archives and The Social Use of Space in Old Babylonian Houses at Ur (2000).

9 781407 300450

BAR  S1631   2007    BRUSASCO   THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING

A major argument of this book is that nonverbal meaning plays a fundamental role in the functioning of human societies, thus rejecting the predominance of textual meaning and ethnocentric/Eurocentric models currently employed in the interpretation of past behaviour and architecture. By using the unique evidence from Mesopotamian domestic space where both house layouts and family archives were recovered, as well as ethnographies from modern Near Eastern societies, Paolo Brusasco investigates how verbal and nonverbal meaning interrelate in the archaeological past. In line with Peirce, Wittgenstein and Derrida, as well as recent research in corporeal semantics and social psychology, the book claims that nonverbal, spatial signs have a profound bearing on ancient textual meanings. Moreover, through the evidence of house clay models, house projects, actual houses and archives, the author shows how different semiotic systems may produce alternative perspectives of the world, while the linguistic elaborative power of processing nonverbal signs is also explored. This book contributes to understanding how we should critically use social techniques and ethnographic analogy to interpret the archaeological past, and it will be a vital resource for all those interested in the interaction between language and the material world.

B A R

The Archaeology of Verbal and Nonverbal Meaning Mesopotamian domestic architecture and its textual dimension

Paolo Brusasco

BAR International Series 1631 2007

The Archaeology of Verbal and Nonverbal Meaning Mesopotamian domestic architecture and its textual dimension

Paolo Brusasco

BAR International Series 1631 2007

Published in 2016 by BAR Publishing, Oxford BAR International Series 1631 The Archaeology of Verbal and Nonverbal Meaning © P Brusasco and the Publisher 2007 Linear houses from AH site at OB Ur, and particular of a protocuneiform tablet from Uruk (late 4th millennium BC), southern Iraq

COVER IMAGE

The author's moral rights under the 1988 UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act are hereby expressly asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied, reproduced, stored, sold, distributed, scanned, saved in any form of digital format or transmitted in any form digitally, without the written permission of the Publisher. ISBN 9781407300450 paperback ISBN 9781407331003 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407300450 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

BAR Publishing is the trading name of British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd. British Archaeological Reports was first incorporated in 1974 to publish the BAR Series, International and British. In 1992 Hadrian Books Ltd became part of the BAR group. This volume was originally published by Archaeopress in conjunction with British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd / Hadrian Books Ltd, the Series principal publisher, in 2007. This present volume is published by BAR Publishing, 2016.

BAR PUBLISHING BAR titles are available from: BAR Publishing 122 Banbury Rd, Oxford, OX2 7BP, UK E MAIL [email protected] P HONE +44 (0)1865 310431 F AX +44 (0)1865 316916 www.barpublishing.com

Contents

List of Figures and Tables

iii

Acknowledgements

v

Introduction

1

Chapter 1

Theories of meaning and archaeology

5

Chapter 2

Nonverbal meaning as implicit deixis in archaeology

20

Chapter 3

Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction in Mesopotamian domestic space

37

Chapter 4

Dynamic interaction of semiotic systems through the house cycle

60

Chapter 5

The spatial dimension of legal and technical discourse

103

Chapter 6

The ethnographic dimension of verbal and nonverbal semiosis

111

Chapter 7

The body in language: towards a theory of the relation between verbal and nonverbal meaning in archaeology

123

References

133

i

List of Figures 1.1

Gradual trajectory from iconicity to arbitrariness in Sumerian signifiers

16

2.1 2.2

Map of Mesopotamia and the Near East AH (left) and EM residential sites at Ur (After Woolley and Mallowan 1976) TA residential quarter at Nippur (After Stone 1981: Fig. I) a. Mosaic fragments showing two women working with a spindle from Mari (mid-third millennium BC); b. Figures of women spinning (right), warping (centre), and weaving (left), from four Mesopotamian cylinder seals of the early third millennium BC (After Barber 1994) Model-1 houses: proxemic nonverbal deixis showing an ‘approach-avoidance’ framework of relatively informal relations among residents and between residents and visitors Model 2 (Fully-flanked houses, and houses with rooms on three sides of the courtyard): proxemic nonverbal deixis showing the ‘approach-avoidance’ framework with spatial solidarity and an increasing social tension from a to b-e Model 3 (Fully-flanked houses with one row of rooms on the courtyard): proxemic nonverbal deixis of social equality among resident families and spatial solidarity Model 4 (Fully-flanked houses with more than row of rooms onto the courtyard): proxemic nonverbal deixis of social inequality among resident families and spatial solidarity Model 5 (Double court houses): proxemic nonverbal deixis of complex social inequality among resident families and discrete solidarity

20

2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.8 2.9 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4

Traditional town house from Baghdad (After Al-Azzawi 1969) Traditional city house of wealthy Iranian family (After Khatib-Chahidi 1993, Fig. 6.1) Traditional village houses from Hasanabad (Iran) and Abu Hijara (Syria) (After Watson 1979; Aurenche 1996:13) African Ashanti residence (After Hillier and Hanson 1984)

21 22 27 29 30 32 33 35 114 115 116 117

List of Tables 2.1 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7 3.8

The archaeological model for the identification of main living rooms and living rooms. Chi-square tests of the correlation between room types and features/artefacts/tombs Comparison between house plans drawn on clay tablets (Akkadian-Old Babylonian) and actual houses (OB) showing a prevalent intersemiotic rapport Comparison between house plans drawn on clay tablets (Akkadian-Old Babylonian) and actual houses (OB) showing a prevalent intersemiotic rapport Figures showing intersemiotic corroboration between house plans drawn on clay tablets (Akkadian-Old Babylonian) and plans of actual houses (OB) Figures showing heterosemiotic linkage between house clay models and actual houses excavated archaeologically Figures showing heterosemiotic linkage between house clay models and actual houses excavated archaeologically Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction in cuneiform definitions of urban sectors showing increasingly strong dissonance and opacity from technical to social discourse Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction in technical discourse: textual calculations of house number of bricks showing intersemiotic corroboration and small semiotic/modal/ propositional opacity between different sign systems Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction for the cuneiform definitions of house loci showing increasingly heterosemiotic relations and propositional, modal and semiotic opacity iii

26 40 41 42 43 45 47 48 52

3.9a 3.9b

4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5a 4.5b 4.5c 4.6 4.7 4.8 4.9 4.10a 4.10b 4.11 4.12 4.13 4.14a 4.14b 4.14c

7.1

Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction between omen definitions of architectural norms and their applications in real houses showing an intersemiotic rapport Verbal-nonverbal sign interaction between omen definitions of architectural norms and applications in actual architecture with a stronger heterosemiotic conflict

55 56

House H, TA, Nippur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction between textual evidence on family composition and its actual residential pattern showing an intersemiotic rapport between different sign systems 61 House G , TA, Nippur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport between different sign systems 63 House E, TA, Nippur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport between different sign systems and a relatively stronger heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic meanings 65 No. 3 Niche Lane, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a relatively stronger heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic meanings (power relations) 68 Nonverbal sign messages from the extended family resident in Nos. 1, 2 Bazaar Alley, 8-10, 12, 4-4a Paternoster Row (I phase, AH, Ur) 71 Nonverbal sign messages from the related nuclear families resident in the linear houses Nos. 1, 2 Bazaar Alley, 8-10, 12, 4-4a Paternoster Row (II phase, AH, Ur) 72 Nos. 1, 2 Bazaar Alley, 8-10, 12, 4-4a Paternoster Row, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport and a relatively stronger heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic meanings (power relations) 73 No. 5 Quiet Street, EM, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport 77 No. 7 Quiet Street, EM, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport 79 No. 15 Church Lane, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport 81 No. 1 Broad Street , AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport 83 Nonverbal messages of Model-4 House K, TA, Nippur 86 House K, TA, Nippur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a relatively stronger heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic traits 87 No. 1 Store Street, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport 91 No. 2 Church Lane, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a relatively stronger heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic genre of discourse dealing with power relations 93 No. 1 Baker’s Square, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic traits of discourse 96 Nonverbal messages from No.1 Old Street/3 Straight Street, AH, Ur 98 Nonverbal messages from No.1 Old Street/3 Straight Street, AH, Ur O = 1 Old Street, S = 3 Straight Street 99 No. 1 Old Street/3 Straight Street, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic traits dealing with power relations 100 Interactions among different nonverbal signs (drawings and models), and between verbal and nonverbal signs, showing an increasingly stronger heterosemiotic rapport from technical discourse and nonverbal signs to complex social and symbolic signals

iv

125

Acknowledgements This book, inspired by my PhD thesis at the University of Cambridge UK (1998), is the outcome of further research in the last few years on the theoretical potentials of combining written and architectural data on space use. Specials thanks go respectively to Dr J. Curtis, Keeper in the Department of the Ancient Near East at The British Museum, where I carried out extensive research on unpublished records from Ur, to Dr J. Oates for commenting on my early work, and to Professor I. Hodder and R. Preucel for encouraging this theoretical investigation and showing their willingness to support the publication of this material. I am also grateful to Dr Augusta McMahon, Dr Roger Matthews and Prof. Irene Winter for their useful advice. Finally, my sincere thanks go to Dr David Davison, Dr Rajka Makjanić and Dr Wendy Logue, for their excellent editorial results.

v

Introduction

Concepts of embodiment are becoming areas of increasing interest which crosscuts the disciplines, from linguistics to social psychology, from anthropology to archaeology. In archaeology, while a shift from an approach which privileges ideal systems towards a stance that acknowledges the indispensable function of the corporeal can only enhance our insights on material culture, such a shift is far too limited and superficial in that it does not stress the importance of the body at the basic level of linguistic meaning and its bearing on archaeological theory. Except for the fascinating work of Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics (2000), as well as its cognitive background, the evidence of the reintroduction of the corporeal at the heart of linguistic signification is rather meagre. Although the presence of nonverbal features in language, such as questions of ideology, attitudes, contexts, styles and power in discourse, are addressed by sociolinguistics, few approaches have offered an explanation of the fundamental dynamics in language that permit this meta-linguistic presence, as well as the possible archaeological implications.

filled by nonverbal signs under the direction of culture’; thus ‘when a meaning event occurs, the corporeal enters language in the form of sense readings of reality’ (Ruthrof 2000: vii). Applied to the ancient textual sources, the learning of a language is a process of social pedagogy whereby the sounds of expressions and nonverbal sign systems are systematically linked by speakers under community control. For language such as the ancient Akkadian and its cuneiform written version to be able to mean at all, members of a speech community must share, to a strong degree, the process of association between words and nonverbal readings of the domestic space use. It is in this sense that the ‘body is present in language at the semantic level as community-sanctioned perception’; also the body is present in language in a more general sense, in that ‘language shares to some extent the system of structuring norms characteristic of nonverbal sign systems’ (Ruthrof 2000: vii). In fact, while nonverbal systems must possess, some internal coherence, otherwise repetitive and congruous modalities of nonverbal expression (i.e. archaeological patterns) could not be sustained, language syntax is shown to reflect to some extent such primary nonverbal coding. However, for Ruthrof, “nor should this perceptual part of meaning exclude fantasy elaborations and rule out the possibility for language to process at a more abstract level its intrinsic materiality”, thus creating alternative textual worlds. Conversely, the book shows that one gains further insights if also the most fantastic textual elaborations or mental projections are considered as an essential part of linguistic meaning (Ruthrof 2000: vii, 30–31). This leads me to move beyond Ruthrof’s approach and theorise a more active impact of verbal/written sign systems over nonverbal, spatial semiosis. In fact, for such highly verbal and textualised historic periods as those analysed here it may be possible, at least in some instances, to interpret nonverbal signs (spatial configurations) by means of the learned verbal signs (symbolic texts and laws). Language has indeed its own potentials and independence in that it can recursively elaborate nonverbal signs, thus determining epistemic multiplication of meanings.

Conversely, if ancient texts and material culture need be studied in conjunction, there is urgent need for a unifying theory of how language can elaborate nonverbal elements so efficiently, that is a theory of verbal and nonverbal interaction in the archaeological record. While I will show the drawbacks of the explanation which stresses only the formal properties of language in ancient texts, I would argue with the aid of Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics that some sort of corporeality must be already present in linguistic meaning if language is to express our surrounding world (ancient or modern). The book then shows how the body enters language at the semantic level, that is in meaning events concerning a specific archaeological data set. Mesopotamian houses excavated at Ur and Nippur represent a unique archaeological context for the analysis of the interaction of verbal and nonverbal sign systems in that archaeologists can combine archival evidence of the III-II millennium BC with well-preserved house layouts. This study will provide a general framework for the interpretation of other sites where textual evidence is absent or not in context. By drawing from corporeal semantics (Ruthrof 2000; Halliday 1978; Fairclough 1989; Holmes 1992), the response advanced in the book through the analysis of the Mesopotamia architectural and textual data is that the body is always present in ancient texts in the form of nonverbal signs such as proxemic, visual, and many other nonverbal readings of domestic space. Following Ruthrof’s semantics, the central claim of the book is that ‘nonverbal signs are the deep structure of language’ and ‘meaning is created when empty verbal schemata are

Although the aims of the book are multiple, the main objective is theoretical: I have tried to go beyond the interpretation of Mesopotamian domestic sociology and offer a semiotic theory of verbal and nonverbal meanings, useful for archaeology in general. In fact, it is important that we, as archaeologists, are aware of the similarities and difference between words and things before we embark in the analysis of any material culture and/or ancient texts. As increasingly acknowledged by both Assyriologists and Mesopotamian archaeologists (Van de 1

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Mieroop 1999: 5, cited in Matthews 2003: xi; Pollock 1999: 22-27), Mesopotamian archaeology is certainly not famous for its theoretical awareness and thus I have tried to fill this gap. Moreover, I have also tried to bring theories of self-reflexivity in the discipline by establishing a link between the complex and politically charged connection of past and present.

material culture, it is paradoxical that theories of textual meaning still condition the discipline, thus reducing the insights our material evidence can give us into the human involvement in the world. Clearly, the book does not need specify which use of ‘meaning’ is the focus of the analysis because they are all part of the general issue of how linguistic meaning can be explained. As we shall see, even in the simplest example of linguistic meaning, the particular context of an ancient text indicates that more than a direct relationship between language and the corporeal is involved. In fact, given the seminal role of nonverbal systems and cognitive processes, then, evidence of intentionality should not be overlooked. I will thus readdress the following issues: how corporeal semantics can contribute to archaeological theory; the kind of relationship between ancient texts and domestic architecture in the creation of meaning, the presence of concepts as mediators between language and the world, and the role played by language and nonverbal semiosis in the way we - and ancient people - conceive the world.

The Archaeology of Verbal and Nonverbal Meaning is a contribution to semiotics, linguistic theory, and the theory of meaning with its bearing on archaeological interpretation. The structuralist approach that meanings can be explained by means of intralinguistic relations is rejected as well as definitional and naturalistic descriptions of meaning, while language is viewed as dependent on nonverbal interpretations and their fantasy variants (Ruthrof 2000: 170). This has a bearing on archaeological theory. On the one hand, the belief that the past can be simply understood by strings of linguistic signifiers is shown to be fallacious, on the other the book also attempts an explanation of why arguments grounded in a poststructuralist view of language, as for instance corporeal approaches to archaeology (‘the archaeology of the body’), do not succeed entirely in demonstrating the seminal role of the body in linguistic systems. The main reason of their flaw is their naturalistic leaning and their lacking of the idea that the word is mediated by signs.

Linguistic versus corporeal turns and archaeology Chapter 1 highlights two opposing trends which characterise the interpretation of language in the twentieth century and have important archaeological implications. While originally the ‘linguistic turn’ has emphasised the linguistic structure both in philosophy and in theories of meaning, the chapter suggests that a counter-movement, which is defined ‘corporeal turn’ (Ruthrof 2000: 3), has more recently emerged to redress the balance. I also illustrate the assumptions of a number of traditional and recent descriptions of meaning. Empiricist, relativist and structuralist principles are discussed with a brief survey on more recent positions. I conclude with a focus on feminist theories and cognitivist contributions to the debate and show where cognitive approaches collaborate with and/or diverge from the stance taken in this book. The shift between linguistic and corporeal turn is also illustrated by some emblematic archaeological applications to the study of the past. In particular, it is shown how Mesopotamian archaeology and its interpretation of ancient domestic space is mainly biased by a linguistic and structuralist approach both in the form of ancient cuneiform sources and analogy with traditional Islam. Structuralist and post-structuralist archaeologies and post-modern approaches are also shown to retain the Saussurean emphasis on meaning as intralinguistic relations, while the ‘archaeology of the body’, as well as phenomenological approaches to archaeology, lack a semiotic theory of the world and of the relationship between verbal and nonverbal meaning.

I have attempted for some time now to offer an archaeological theory of the foundational role that the body has in the material record and in ancient written texts. It has been difficult, not only because of the many counter-claims of historical archaeologists working with literate societies, but mainly because archaeological theory has difficulties to be rid of a linguistic bias which has rooted for so long. In fact, although few historians of ancient Mesopotamia would now accept Bottéro’s view about the objective certitude of textual data in contrast with the vagueness of the material ones (2000: 1-66), the archaeological approach which privileges nontextual materials seems so far too restrained in its method and theory to fully exploit the potentials of its evidence. There is rarely an awareness that the meanings of things, from domestic space to artefacts, can be better comprehended if we employ broad socio-psychological models from modern social science and test them against our ancient evidence (Matthews 2003: 29-31). While my preliminary study of Mesopotamian houses has commenced to analyse the relationship between proxemic spacing distances in house layouts and written evidence concerning family structures (Brusasco 2000), the present book is not simply an afterthought of such analysis, but it also introduces a range of new insights and theories. Corporeal semiosis is reinstated in ancient texts by drawing on a wide range of theorists of the calibre of Peirce, Heidegger, Husserl, Wittgenstein, etc., while current research in cognitive linguistics and Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics have provided the main foundational ground. In particular, I want to show how the body can be reintroduced into theories of meaning in archaeology. After all, corporeality has always played an important role in ancient cultures and, given archaeology’s stress on

Then I draw from Ruthrof’s and Turner’s corporeal/cognitive semantics for outlining the main paradigms of a ‘body-oriented’ theory of language and assessing it against the archaeological record (Ruthrof 2000; Lakoff and Turner 1989). According to these theorists, language is essentially viewed as a syntactic grid of empty sound schemas which has no meaning unless it is activated by nonverbal signs under the 2

INTRODUCTION guidance of a semiotic community. Also in the definition of the perceptual aspects of meaning, ideas from Vico and Peirce are drawn upon, while findings in cognitive science are surveyed to support a corporeal explanation of meaning, one in which fantasy, mental and interpretive processes play a key role. Moreover, deixis and reference/representation are reinterpreted as intersemiotic; this means to argue the importance in ancient texts of a culture’s speech attitude, or cultural deixis, especially in its implicit and hidden dimensions (Ruthrof 2000: 31-59). Although acknowledging that nonverbal sign systems are coded I take issue with the view that this code is moulded on linguistic systems: nonverbal codes and implicit deixis characterise something less clearly structured, a tendency rather than a grammatical rule (langue). While the chapter supports the corporeal view that language as an empty grid is particularly suitable to reproduce other sign systems, it also emphasises the linguistic elaborative power in the creation of different textual worlds. Through the cuneiform examples, I offer a sketchy overview of the disembodiment of the signifier, that is of the trajectory of signifiers from highly iconic representations to their disembodied, symbolic relations. In this process, iconicity, it is argued, has been interiorised and hence survives in the signified (Ruthrof 2000: 48–116). Since, contrary to formal systems, the signified of natural language would require the body to function semantically, the Saussurean idea of ‘arbitrariness’ is revised accordingly. This is argued with support from cognitive science and Heidegger’s ‘as-structure’. Moreover, to avoid critiques of ‘subjectivism’, it is suggested that both mental representations and linguistic expressions are under the flexible supervision of the community (Ruthrof 2000: 4). Thus, two dimensions of meaning are pivotal in this book: the ‘as-structure’ set of similarities and differences of nonverbal (space) readings, and their context of activation of linguistic schemata through examples of Mesopotamian domestic space use.

of house plans, to render such analysis less deterministic, the chapter stresses the importance of both formal properties of buildings and psychological and cultural features that might reflect the ways in which personal attitudes and proximity between residents ad visitors is encouraged or inhibited. Five different deictic social models are outlined which show asymmetric power relations among the family members. Sign interactions in Mesopotamian domestic space In Chapter 3, before analysing the relationship between verbal and nonverbal sign systems in Mesopotamian domestic architecture, two further theoretical aspects of meaning are highlighted: its intersemiotic and heterosemiotic character (Ruthrof 2000: 60–84). The former addresses the nature of the interaction among different kinds of signs: while nonverbal signs have a certain autonomy and can stand in for one another, verbal signs are ‘parasitic’ on nonverbal semiosis, but can also have a recursive bearing on material signs. However, the difference among signs and the specific dynamics of power may also determine a hostile or heterosemiotic relation between different semiotic systems with a certain violence of association whenever meaning occurs. Finally, the traditional approach to meaning via truthconditions is replaced by Ruthrof’s negotiatory checking system, ‘sufficient semiosis’ (2000: 140–50). This is a pragmatic theory of meaning that relies on social negotiation rather than definitions and exact checking mechanisms, since truth-conditional semantics applies in technical discourse but does not work in complex social and symbolic discourse in which linguistic re-elaboration of nonverbal readings is more pronounced. Various kinds of semantic ‘opacity’ are shown to require complex interpretative efforts in aligning appropriate nonverbal signs with linguistic schemas. The theory is applied to and tested against the archaeological data. First, analysis of the interaction between the proxemic nonverbal coding of actual houses and other nonverbal sign systems such as house plans and house clay models is carried out in order to understand how meaning is constructed through an evolving chain of correlated nonverbal signs. Secondly, a trajectory from intersemiotic corroboration to heterosemiotic conflict is shown to exist between mathematical texts (e.g. mathematical survey texts), technical texts (house and city lot prices), and social discourse (designations of house loci, the house, and the house omens) on the one hand, and their nonverbal referents (activity area analysis) on the other.

Nonverbal meaning in archaeology Chapter 2 highlights the implicit deixis composed by nonverbal signs which will be brought to bear on the archival evidence. In the spatial study of three major residential quarters (EM and AH, Ur; TA, Nippur) and additional sites (Larsa, Tell ed-Dēr/Sippar-Amnānum, Harâdum, Babylon, Eshnunna), I apply the interactive model of Hillier and Hanson’s architectural/morphological analysis (1984), and environmental psychology, whereby human behaviour and built environment are mutually influential. One of the main channel of nonverbal communication theory, spatial behaviour and space arrangements (activity areas and network charts), as well as a broad range of nonverbal cues (figurative art) are shown to be extremely effective in expressing people’s attitudes towards each other. The chapter shows how two main dimensions of attitudes towards others - friendly v. hostile and dominant v. submissive, are clearly encoded by the spatial position taken by interactors and the distance among each other. While the main spatial features which reflect the behavioural conventions described above are suggested by morphological analysis

Chapter 4 adds dynamics to this study by scrutinising the interaction between verbal and nonverbal sign systems through time, that is through the developmental cycle of the family. The textual family as shown by family archives (inheritance texts, administrative texts, sale and rentals, etc.) is compared against that reconstructed by means of activity area, network chart and social psychology analysis. The spatial dimensions of the laws Chapter 5 examines the sections of the Code of Hammurapi dealing with private laws (i.e. marriage, 3

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING inheritance, adoption, etc.) and additional textual evidence (i.e. private archives of Old Assyrian merchants from Kaniš, official archives from Early Dynastic Lagash, the Sargonic and Ur III state, Old Babylonian Mari and Karana) in order to test the relationship between the verbal and written provisions of the codes and their actual bearing on social space use (nonverbal meaning). While technical laws of inheritance and the spatial position of women and slaves are shown up by space morphology, cultural traits such as kinship systems, marriage arrangements and gender roles are both too abstract and too global to be traceable directly in the spatial configuration. In Chapter 6 ethnographic analogy is thus employed to fill this gap. While ethnographies suggest models of descent and residence, kinship systems and gender roles which may implement our knowledge of ancient society, these models are assessed against archaeological houses and data on family composition stemming directly from the ancient textual sources. In particular, two divergent male and female kinship systems from the ethnographic record are employed for their power of highlighting divergent social and spatial patterns (houses from Islam, and from African Ashanti). In this way, by contrasting these opposite systems and their material representations (house morphologies) with the Mesopotamian spatial and textual data set I define spatial correlates of cultural traits which may be relevant

to the study of spatial morphologies in the archaeological record. The archaeology of verbal and nonverbal meanings The conclusive Chapter 7 draws the theoretical conclusions of the dynamics of interactions among signs. It also suggests that no theory of language can escape certain metaphysical presuppositions. Semiotic semantics in the Peircean tradition which combine Kant’s reflective reason, Heidegger’s ‘as-structure’ and Derrida’s différance show a stance somewhere between relativist and realist semantics. The Mesopotamian and ethnographic data confirm in many ways corporeal semantics in that in both technical and more symbolic discourse there is a process of activation of empty linguistic grids by increasingly complex networks of nonverbal (space) readings, while there are also cases in which textual constructions and domestic laws influence nonverbal, spatial configurations. Then the notion of arbitrariness is reformulated accordingly. An afterthought concludes the book with a brief discussion of the main objectives of Near Eastern Archaeology in a climate of political turmoil, as well as the semantic issues raised by a digital future and the question whether such a future would be incompatible with a corporeal theory of language.

4

Chapter 1

Theories of meaning and archaeology

Though the definition of ‘meaning’ in archaeology might seem presumptuous and perhaps also misleading given the absence of informants, archaeology has always been concerned about the issue of meaning, if only to determine the functions of material culture. One possible escape route to the assignation of meaning to the archaeological record, a traditional problem facing archaeological theory ever, is to renounce linguistic imperialism and develop a theory of the meaning of material culture not based on linguistic analogies. The chapter shows how structuralism and post-structuralism have influenced archaeological interpretation, and then charts the main features of the present corporeal approach.

In the same period, Saussure corrected the historical linguistics of the time by emphasising the structural character of linguistic relations (langue), thus founding the scientific discipline of structural linguistics. While his achievements are not in discussion, I want only to show some negative attitudes, mainly among his successors, that determined a radicalisation of the ‘linguistic turn’. For Saussure, language is the semiotic master system and only linguistic signs can give meaning to other semiotic systems (1974: 68). Particularly relevant is the structuralist intragrammatical or intersyntactic view: both syntax and meaning in language are the result of the differential relations within the network of terms, independent of nonlinguistic referential relations. Despite Saussure regards the signified as a concept or image, he emphases the arbitrariness of the linguistic sign (signifier and signified) as a whole. Hence the linguistic sign is totally disjoined from reality, because the relation between the signifier and the signified is entirely conventional or arbitrary. Because of the elimination of any referential connection between language and world, Saussure’s structuralist innovations slight the role of nonverbal systems (Ruthrof 2000: 156). Likewise, later semioticians have also offered double-track semiotic explanations, without, however, acknowledging the importance of the nonverbal in linguistic meaning. The Copenhagen School, characterised by the work of Hjelmslev (1953), radicalises the structuralist stress on langue as a self-sufficient system by drawing a distinction between a denotative semiotic and an additional analysis of connotations, without apparent relation to our perceptual world. Some other structuralist views such as Benveniste’s idea of ‘subjectivity’ (1971: 224) or Greimas’s ‘structural semantics’ (1966) show similar drawbacks. While ‘subjectivity’ is seen an exclusively linguistic phenomenon, cognitive and corporeal semantics show that this is also a pre-linguistic feature. Greimas theorises an atomistic paradigm in that meaning is intrasyntactically produced by breaking up signified into semes (minimal semantic structures) whereby larger units such as words or sememes are constructed. In line with these formalist approaches to meaning is the transformational semantics advocated by Chomsky in which specific linguistic surfaces (phonemes, vocabulary, syntax) are transformed into a more general deep structure (noun and verb phrases) (Ruthrof 2000: 162).

Meaning as intralinguistic relations: structuralism and post-structuralism It is important to challenge an important approach that has influenced our interpretation of language and conditioned the way we conceive our humanness and give meaning to the world. The ‘linguistic turn’ is linked to the emergence of structuralism and then poststructuralism in the late 1960s and represents the tendency to overvalue the role of linguistic definitions. In its extreme version, this approach suggests that all philosophical and semantics issues have a linguistic character. This turn has biased our view of language in that there is an overwhelming tendency to pursue definitional clarity and interpret reality in terms of linguistic or syntactic relations (Ruthrof 2000: 6). At the beginning of the twentieth century, two thinkers, Saussure and Frege, determined this formal view of language and meaning. Frege is the theorist of definitional semantics and analytical philosophy, Saussure of structural linguistics. In a deleterious approach for the analysis of linguistic meaning, as the theorist of ‘sense’ and ‘reference’ Frege overlooked the difference between the formal sense of variables and the sense of words in natural languages (1970). In definitional semantics, the sense of linguistic expressions is thus governed by deterministic definitions and truth-conditions (a direct relation between words and objects), thereby rejecting mental pictures and nonverbal readings that are an essential part of the meanings of words. Likewise, the naturalist semantics of Devitt and Sterelny (1990) retains a Fregean view of sense, while reference is causal rather than cultural and semiotic. Since cultural and implicit deixis are not part of a naturalistic view of meaning, naturalist semantics is at odds with corporeal semantics (Ruthrof 2000: 6–9).

Psychoanalytic linguistics of the Lacanian type highlights a semantics that is also incompatible with corporeal explanations. Lacan’s emphasis on 5

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING intragrammatical meaning shows again the demise of reference which slips away from the signified reality to the job performance of the analyst. Though Lacan believes communication to be possible through mere floating signifiers, if there is no relatively consistent relationship between signifiers and signifieds, then our communication with other people would be seriously at stake. If we are to avoid remaining stuck in the Saussurean circularity, which can produce only formal meaning, we must necessarily exit the syntactic vicious circle. Natural languages are entirely different from formal variables: reference is never void, not even in symbolic texts (Fairclough 1989: 17–42). Nor are we compelled to accept a naturalist definition of reference. The idea that words must be rid of things shows all the distance from a corporeal semantics in which reference and meaning are mediated by nonverbal semiosis and imagination (Ruthrof 2000: 160). An even more extreme metaphor of the instability of meaning is the idea of ‘flickering signs’ by which we approach the poststructuralist view of meaning.

obligation’, while the creation of new, critical concepts endows meaning with a potential of liberation. In Lyotard’s agonistic discourse, meanings are construed as differend, social inequalities caused by discursive power which can nevertheless be challenged (Ruthrof 2000: 164). An extreme example of the instability of meaning, already forestalling its virtual demise by postmodern theories, is Hayles’s notion of ‘flickering signifiers’ (1993: 69), a radicalisation of the weak rapport between the signifier and signified. Flickering signifiers are considered as a product of the post-modern era of the information age and digital technology. Having done away with signifieds, any font shift on the screen, for instance, is seen to result in a linguistic change. But the irony is that whatever kind of flickering is shown by signifiers, the content introduced by the signifieds has relatively more stability. According to Ruthrof’s corporeal view, in fact, any instability occasioned by the reading performance is not a result of technology, but originates from outside the linguistic signifiers, i.e. the nonverbal readings attached to the text by the readers (2000: 160–1). While one cannot deny the semantic effects that digital technology has on society, probably such a claim makes more sense within a linguistic theory that does not simply ignore the signified. In postmodern semantics of the Baudrillard kind, meaning is more than dead, it is ‘fatal to its users’. Since signifiers can be randomly replaced, our world looses its meaning. However, this runs into contradictions when Baudrillard tries to feature the world as a ‘controlling screen’ but he has dropped the political analysis of the forces operating such controlling (Ruthrof 2000: 165).

Although one may identify a postructuralist semantics in the writing of Foucault, Derrida, Gadamer, Lyotard, Deleuze and Guattari, the term does not indicate a unified theory of meaning but only some trends put forward by various writers associated with poststructuralist approaches. True enough, the disembodiment of the world is a key feature of both post-structuralist thought and hermeneutics. While poststructuralism has developed the same emphasis on the referential character of linguistic meaning, it has also questioned the stability of the signification process in that the meaning of a signifier starts to drift away, always depending on other terms in an infinite chain. For Gadamer and Ricoeur, the major exponents of hermeneutics, language or its textual manifestation is essential to human experience since there is no pre- or non-linguistic human experience (Gadamer 1976; Ricoeur 1984). The same separation of language and things can be also seen in poststructuralism, an eclectic blend of hermeneutic and structuralist thought. Despite Derrida is mainly concerned with the internal structure of language, it would appear that he has not totally dropped meaning from the network of signs but merely questioned its alleged stable character. Meanings are now created by différance and ‘metaphoricity’ rather than by linguistic formalism (1978). Unlike LéviStrauss’s quest for underlying structures, Derrida shares Freud’s interest for the unconscious and the hidden messages conveyed by linguistic texts. Derrida would thus not simply aim at deconstructing meaning, but at ‘teasing out’ the continual reinterpretation of signification of texts (Johnson 1981: xviii), thereby attacking the rationalism of the Plato-Kant philosophical paradigm. Moreover, in Foucault’s new practical focus to meaning there is a strong emphasis on the social institutions within which discursive formations operate and the situational aspects of linguistic utterances. In Deleuze and Guattari’s vision, pragmatics turns into politics in that the semantic power of ‘order-words’ (slogans, etc.) hampers emancipation through ‘social

Finally, Rorty (1992) shows well the directions recently taken by the philosophical stress on language (Dummett 1973: 669). Rorty contends that a major contribution of the ‘linguistic turn’ to philosophy consists in its having done away with the notion of representation by concentrating primarily on the internal and differential character of linguistic meaning (1992: 373). However, one would doubt whether the ‘linguistic turn’ has really resolved the problem of representation. By making language self-referential linguistic sense is equated with formal sense, while sensory readings of the world are rejected from linguistic meanings. For Ruthrof ‘the problem with representationalism is a particular usage of the term “representation” as a kind of copying’ (2000: 8). In these terms, Derrida has shown through a deconstructive approach that such definition appears differently in English from non-English languages (1982). Unlike re-presentation, the German Vorstellung (‘bringing in front of oneself’, or a mental projection) has a broader meaning than mere ‘copying’ since this can range from fairly tight presentations to the most bizarre distortions or free creations. Hence the semantic breadth of Vorstellung seems particularly suitable for allowing bodily readings and their fantasy variants to be part of language (Ruthrof 2000: 8). The dangerous consequences 6

THEORIES OF MEANING AND ARCHAEOLOGY of poststructuralism for the study of meaning are visible in linguistic kinds of archaeology.

constructed ‘etic’. This also applies to the radical version of the instability of meaning which is well illustrated by some archaeological examples (Yates 1990). Derrida’s and Lacan’s ideas are employed to show how they can stimulate different readings of the archaeological data by viewing any archaeological evidence as infinite chain of signifiers which gain meaning by their internal relations and form a floating frame of reference. In this sense, such approaches mirror Rorty’s view of philosophy as a personal and subjective quest. This fear for the concrete is linked to an assumption that the material things are not the foundation of language and meaning, but rather the world escapes signification and is therefore beyond history and change. In sum, processual and postprocessual archaeologies have retained the linguistic analogy in that they have treated material symbols as linguistic signifiers divorced from reality or the signified. But from a corporeal perspective, the fact that there is an arbitrary relation between the signifier and signified does not mean that the sign as a whole and, by implication, the signified is arbitrary. Nor is arbitrariness the typical feature of semiosis in general (Ruthrof 2000: 22). However, culture history and structuralism represent the main approaches adopted in most archaeological investigations of the subject matter of this book: Mesopotamian archaeology in its domestic domain.

From language to ‘linguistic’ archaeology Derived from the structural linguistics of Saussure, structuralism is most often associated with the work on mythology of the anthropologists Lévi-Strauss (1973). If underlying structural principles can be shown to shape even the creation of myths, the fantasy acts par excellence, then deterministic structures will also characterise more pragmatic domains such as material culture. This deterministic, language-like approach to meaning applies also to processual and postprocessual archaeology which are the outcome of structuralism and poststructuralism respectively. In processual archaeology, there is a general view that archaeology is a positivist science with the consequent emphasis on the study of environments, technologies, and economies, though in later developments the concern shifted to social relations (Renfrew 1973), and then to mind and cognition (Renfrew’s 1982, 1994). This represents certainly an advance with respect to the preceding ‘culture history’ approach which, being mainly restricted to notions of cultural influence, failed to link stylistic features to anthropological attributes. However, while processual archaeology has the merit of considering the world not as a rough ‘stuff’ but at the level of sign system, the assumption that nonverbal signs or material culture are ‘language-like’ in that they too are organised by rigid codes devoid of reality does not fit with a corporeal semantics. Despite in archaeology a historical dimension and an emphasis on context and symbolism was soon added (i.e. Deetz 1977; Hodder 1982), this view is not entirely compatible with the corporeal archaeology advocated here in that practical action is seen to derive from schemes of linguistic meaning rather than being considered its very deep structure.

Mesopotamian Archaeology Today Cities represent the main feature of Mesopotamian society as far as it is accessible to us. Yet the study of urban history and housing which has become increasingly popular over the last ten years provides often a misleading picture of such society. Though scholars of Mesopotamian society have the unique fortune of disposing of both the architectural and textual evidence and having that evidence frequently preserved in significant archaeological contexts, this unique opportunity has hampered paradoxically the understanding of ancient cities and their sociology. Current understanding of Mesopotamian residential sociology derives, in fact, almost entirely from ancient textual sources and/or ethnographic parallels without an investigation of their relationship with the archaeological and architectural data is carried out. It is true that the cuneiform tablets have an incredibly strong informative power, but from the viewpoint of a corporeal semantics only a partial, and distorted understanding of ‘meaning’ is possible from the imposition of verbal meanings on the interpretation of nonverbal sign systems. By contrast, one would need to spend a good deal of interpretive labour on the nonverbal reconstruction of appropriate architectural backgrounds for such texts. True, ancient Mesopotamian data on houses and households present problems. As the many archives (e.g. inheritance texts, loans, rentals, sales dowries, etc.) recovered in private residences reveal the actions of their inhabitants, so the architectural remains represents the physical, nonverbal manifestations of these recorded actions. However, too often the textual records reflect only vaguely the more private features of family life: documents register only a small portion of such activities and some of these represent deviant rather than

Postprocessual and interpretive archaeologies show a stronger concern for the different perspective by which meaning is constituted in both the past and the present, as well as for the role of agents and the recursive relationship between structure and practice (e.g. critical theory, neo-Marxism, and agency theory) (Tilley 1993; Shanks and Hodder 1995; Preucel and Hodder 1996: 299–314). With this respect, Morris’s recent rehabilitation of culture history by virtue of its sharing many basic traits of interpretive archaeology (stress on context, agency, etc.) seems to overlook the fact that culture history lacks the critical awareness of later postprocessual approaches (2000). Indeed, these approaches is where ‘linguistic’ kinds of archaeology and ‘corporeal’ ones meet more closely (Hodder 1991). Despite the self-conscious usage of the hermeneutic method whereby the meaning of codes and social action is part of a general theme which accounts for the actors’ intentionality (Shanks 1996: 364–393), and despite the gradual fusion of past and present “wholes” or horizons (Hodder 1992), the perspective is still retained that meaning resides in various forms of linguistically 7

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING typical family relations (Stone 1996: 229). In some cases written records may be also biased by political strategies which aim at the deliberate forging of the evidence, while this is less likely for the archaeological record. Moreover, the ancient textual material is often incomplete. Not only has it a narrow focus and it derives only from the literati section of the populace, but the sources for entire periods are biased by their institution of origin (temple, palace or private persons). Such limitations are also aggravated by the absence of a good archaeological context which forces researchers to reconstruct archives based on the sole textual evidence. However, such reconstructions are highly tentative. Although it is normally assumed that texts referring to the same principal actor originate from the same archive, the archaeological evidence of excavated archives clearly suggests that tablets of different related individuals or business partners could be kept together. Tablets could also move from one archive to another after an exchange of property. Only when sale documents of real estate are recovered in situ in a specific house, the relationship between the excavated building and that reported in the texts can be established, thus providing information on the business (Stone 1981: 19–20; Stone 1987: 10; Postgate 1990: 228). On the archaeological level, though the data on housing and cities are abundant, relatively little attention has been paid by archaeologists to the social and cultural implications of these urban centres, while methods stemming from the social sciences are rarely employed to achieve a better insight of family sociology. As for the archaeological data, many residential sites were excavated early in the twentieth century with obsolete techniques of excavation and lack of historical interest for the daily aspects of life, and it has always has been impossible for archaeologist to uncover the entire remains of a town. Consider also the Mesopotamian habit of continuous rebuilding on the lines of previous structures, and it is often difficult to discern secure archaeological phases.

Mesopotamian idea of diversity can be defined as an opposition between urban/civilised and nomadic, a dichotomy derived from morality, not race (Bahrani 2006: 48–59). Only very recently can one observe a growing awareness of theoretical and methodological issues in the arena of Mesopotamian archaeology. Overall, as shown by Roger Matthew’s innovative book The Archaeology of Mesopotamia: Theories and Approaches, there are now two main trains of thought within the discipline (2003: 5–8). The stark one is well expressed by Bahrani who demonstrates how the Eurocentric tradition has served to dissociate the modern Near Eastern inhabitants of the region from their preIslamic past (defined as ‘Mesopotamia’ vs. ‘Near East’) (Bahrani 1998: 164–5, cited in Matthews 2003: 6–7). On the other hand, Matthews takes the milder view that, although the context of Western interaction with the indigenous people ‘may have been one of imperial exploitation’, nevertheless ‘the intentions were noble’ and produced important advances in the field (Matthews 2003: 7–8). It is undeniable, however, that the perceived marginality of the 'east' is also connected in effective ways to catastrophic recent events in the Middle East. For instance, when in 2003 the two thousands troops of the Coalition Force moved into Babylon they turned the site into a military camp and caused a severe damage to this symbolic place, thereby angering the educated Iraqis who believe the West has no regard for their past. Though culture history is presented as the dominant twentieth-century perspective prior to the New Archaeology of the 1960s, it appears that much of Mesopotamian archaeology is conducted within this framework. Culture-historical or processual, anthropological paradigms that dominate current agenda commonly consider the past as a neutral and objective concept that is straightforwardly accessible through the material facts of the archaeological record and the textual sources. More recently, the link between the archaeological record and behavioural dynamics established by cuneiform sources is often integrated by inferences about the ancient social organisation through direct observation of modern ethnographic people, namely traditional Islam. While I certainly share Matthews’s view that cultural history and anthropological archaeology would ‘benefit from collaboration’ as they address complementary issues (2003: 24), I would try to show that it is their ‘uncritical’ use that has so far hampered the understanding of the archaeological record and ancient society.

However, it is mainly the lack of critical debate in Mesopotamian archaeology that has prevented archaeologists from assessing the methods used to interpret the ancient remains of the area. Rarely there appears to be a serious deconstruction of the predominantly North American and Western European intellectual approach of Near Eastern archaeology, and there has been no explicit discussion of how postcolonial political realities have influenced archaeological research. This is mainly due to an over-dependence on empiricist methodologies which emphasise the ‘Orientalism’ of linguistic/Assyriological studies, as well as the ‘diversity’ of the Arab world within a context of neo-colonialism and political turmoil (Hull and Richter 2005). This approach is a direct result of the presence of a dominant archaeological colonialism that aims to rationalise and control the 'other': the history of alien societies is often distorted by western concepts of social evolution and their cultures are used for nationalist ends. One example is the view of race as a biological construct produced by the modern western science, while the

Since the work of cuneiform scholars such as Oppenheim (1967: 6), the classical organisation of Mesopotamian society is seen as compartmentalised into three different sectors with few, if any, interconnections with one another: the temple, the palace and the private citizenry. The city contained the palace of the ruler, the temple symbolised the city’s patron god, and the private dwellings, arranged along narrow and winding streets, were divided into gated quarters bābtum. The Mesopotamian city-state was viewed mainly as a 8

THEORIES OF MEANING AND ARCHAEOLOGY religious and a political centre with the priesthood supporting the political agenda of the ruler, while community and city councils and other corporations existed but acted on a marginal sphere. The inhabitants of the city’s wards (bābtum) had no prevalent ethnic or tribal affiliation and, while they formed a patriarchal social organisation as a community of families of apparently similar status, there was an official or mayor (Ϊazannum or rabiānum) who was installed by the king to regulate security, justice, sanitation and the internal affairs. Although scholars acknowledge that the entire economy did not operate only through the temple’s ‘redistribution’ of commodities, the other private forces are constantly seen as operating on marginal levels. So the primary importance of temple’s role (the ‘theocracy’, the ‘temple-city’ referred to by cuneiform scholars) and its notables are overstressed for it symbolises the communal identity and offers more essential services to the community than the exploitative policy of the palace (Postgate 1992: 109, 137). This is believed to be a later development than the temple, thereby explaining the apparent lack of palaces from the early times. However, such a reconstruction of the early secular power is heavily biased by the idealised statements of later Mesopotamian sources (Postgate 1992: 137), while early sources tell us that there was not a marked distinction between secular and religious functions (i.e. en: lord = a secular and ecclesiastical power). Moreover, early evidence of monumental architecture is now being revised by archaeologists who suggest the secular function of buildings previously identified as temples (e.g. Ubaid and Uruk architecture, Margueron 1991: 6977). Current research shows that such a clear-cut separation between the state, the temple and the private sectors of the economy cannot be maintained. In fact, not only the temples cooperated actively with one another as well as with the palace (e.g. by exchanging and supplying labourers) but also private families of extended kin could dominate the temple and had a pivotal role in the economy (e.g. the chief administrator Ur-Me-me’s extended family archive, Ur III Nippur, Zettler 1992: 200–213). This is also shown by archaeological and textual evidence in that Mesopotamian city quarters were inhabited by a complex mix of priests, bureaucrats and private entrepreneurs who were active in different spheres of society (Brusasco 2000: 144–46), thus showing that no class came to dominate a district but different kinds of solidarity were at work (e.g. clientage, kinship, business, etc.) (Diakonoff 1985: 63). These results would match also with Stone’s innovative investigations at the second millennium city of Maškanšapir (south Mesopotamia) where textual and architectural data indicate a fluid social fabric and a society based on consensus rather than on a coercive state system (1997: 15–26)

Sippar shed light only on people belonging to the temple and palace (the ‘cloister’ of the wealthy daughters) (Harris 1975; Oppenheim 1967: 1), private archives from Dilbat and Kutalla show the business of extended families (e.g. the Iddin-Lagamal’s from Dilbat), but cannot highlight the relationship with the architecture (Jones 1967; Koshurnikov and Yoffee 1986). A very good example of the increased possibilities of interpretation from combining archaeological, ethnographic and textual information is the work of E. Stone on Old Babylonian Nippur (1981: 19–33; 1987; 1996: 220). Although her contribution to date is very important in that it has opened a new path of research by combining different kinds of evidence in the reconstruction of Mesopotamian domestic society, it is strongly biased by the preference accorded to verbal structures of meaning and ethnocentric assumptions. In order to bridge the gap in our knowledge of the past about neighbourhood composition and residential patterns which were not directly shown by textual sources, Stone draws from an ethnographic model of urban organisation against which these textual claims are interpreted (1981, 1987, 1996). For Stone, current cuneiform descriptions of the organisation of the Mesopotamian city would compare well with the standard definition of the spatial organisation of preindustrial Muslim cities (Aleppo, Damascus, Baghdad, Cairo, Herat, Isfahan) since the ‘historical continuity that exists between ancient Mesopotamian cities and traditional Islamic ones suggests that they share structural traits of social organisation’ (1987: 3–6). The reference in the ancient texts to the bābtum and Ϊazannum together with such a stress on kinship ties would show the presence in ancient Mesopotamian cities of ‘residential quarters enjoying a measure of administrative independence’ similar to the Islamic quarter Ήārāt normally composed of a small number of people (500–1,000). Both the ancient city and the Islamic one were ‘cities in miniature’ which retain an enlarged patriarchal structure marked by a patrilineal and patrilocal kinship (see patronymics and predominance of males in cuneiform texts) and ‘this was no more than the continuation of a long-held custom’. Although the major difference between Islam and its Mesopotamian forebears would be the suq, a typical Islamic institution consisting of a marketing centre which would be missing in ancient Mesopotamia with its home-based craft activities, there would be an overall similarity. The Dilbat and Nippur texts would also indicate that ‘behaviour dictated by extra-kin ties’ (commercial, clientage) to urban institutions increased as time went on very much in the same way as in Islam (Pauty 1951: 52–75). Stone also stresses that partitive inheritance with a consequent ‘egalitarian, achievement-oriented ideology’ and religious piety (see temple-office holding in Nippur and similar endowments or waqfs in Islam) is the prevailing pattern in both Islam and Mesopotamia, thus suggesting the lack of an ‘entrenched hereditary aristocracy’ (Stone 1996: 230; Postgate 1992: 69–270; Ibn Khaldûn 1967).

Analysis of family archives from various cities in Mesopotamia does not illuminate satisfactorily the structure of Mesopotamian society for they lack their archaeological context and/or are limited to specific social sectors. While the tablets from Old Babylonian 9

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING As for gender roles, Stone emphasises a similar marriage system consisting of a joining together of two families through the exchange of brideprice and dowry.

ethnographic parallel (1996: 229–35), it must be stressed that, albeit an urban centre, it is not fit for comparison, for its domestic architecture is exclusively made of stone – a very different material from the more adaptable mudbrick used by the Mesopotamians, thereby suggesting an entirely different sociology. Overall, as shown by Postgate, perhaps an inevitable problem with an innovative approach of this kind is the lack of general, critical statements on the methodology employed; for Postgate, the comparison with Islamic cities to establish the sociology and demography of the neighbourhood is highly speculative, while the ‘overoptimism’ with which Stone determines the correlation of archaeological data with political/social change is likely to ‘deepen, rather than bridge, the gap between archaeology and texts’ (1990: 239).

Stone also stresses that both Mesopotamian and Islamic courtyard houses are mainly designed to accommodate a patriarchal society with an emphasis on extended families and co-residence of brothers/cousins, while the possible high presence of nuclear families is explained as a normal stage in the fissioning of large households. While this model is obtained by combining the textual and archaeological evidence from House I at TA Nippur, Stone applies it tout court to the remaining ancient Mesopotamian houses thus providing ‘the desired insights into OB Mesopotamian residential patterns’ (1981: 20). In order to try to match the order of allotment of the single house shares recorded in the inheritance documents from House I, she suggests that houses must be seen as linear strings of rooms that were divided up between the heirs in order of descending age starting with the assignment of the front room, and so forth. In this case the number of resident families is identified by the number of male heads recorded in the texts and the number of residential spaces detected archaeologically: multiple male actors and their families would imply co-residence of brothers in that matching ethnographic data from Islamic houses (1981: 26; 1987). However, these conclusions present problems. Stones appears to force the cuneiform evidence in order to match her ethnographic model (Diakonoff 1996: 59), and so she ends up with a paradoxical residential pattern in which one single actor and his family own various ‘bits’ of rooms of the house which are removed from each other (Stone 1981: 20–24). In practice we know that further adjustments took places immediately after inheritance subdivisions and the heirs must have each received a room or rooms since houses do not lend themselves to exact division. Thus, not only are there some discrepancies between the shares of the single heirs recorded in inheritance texts from House I and those of the actual house loci identified by Stone, but the same ethnographic data used for comparison suggest that the courtyard house type is not exclusively meant to accommodate extended families but can also be inhabited by nuclear ones (Kramer 1982: 114–15; Watson 1979: 223). This would match with my results from Old Babylonian houses at Ur where a consistent number of square structures accommodate nuclear families (Brusasco 2000: 70). Moreover, Stone herself acknowledges the danger of overlooking the social and cultural differences that exist between the small highland villages chosen as comparanda (those studied by Kramer and Watson in rural Kurdistan) and a large lowland city like ancient Nippur (see stress placed upon animal husbandry and more readily available dwelling space versus a stronger pressure towards increased population density and lack of bulky store for animal fodder, respectively). As for Ottoman Aleppo, which is used by Stone as an additional

While certainly both Mesopotamian and Islamic societies share a patrilocal and patrilineal kinship, this does not mean that they are structurally similar. The possible historical continuity between Mesopotamia and Islam and their structural similarity is undermined by the introduction of a totally different set of religious beliefs and social attitudes with Islam, and these in turn have specific spatial correlates such as the introduction of the mosque, extra-mural burial practices, baths and local markets or suqs etc. Though archaeological evidence (AH quarter at Ur) shows that the presence of specific areas with a front shop and a rear magazine devoted to marketing may resemble the Islamic suqs (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 15–16; Brusasco 2000: 89), other factors, such as the shift from a kinship orientation to a commercial one, similar to that described for Islamic cities, is not documented by reliable evidence: it seems that the ancient families composing the quarter were urbanised for centuries and thus kinship and urban kinds of relations had a concomitant impact. Though the Mesopotamian Ϊazannum and the Islamic leader of the quarter may have had relatively similar roles, there is no evidence in Mesopotamia of bitter fight among residents of different quarters, nor is the presence of walled quarters attested archaeologically. Contrary to Stone’s stress on partitive inheritance and a consequent egalitarian ideology, in most of the southern cities strategies for avoiding fragmentation of family property were pursued (e.g. primogeniture with 10% extra share to eldest son) thus showing accumulation of wealth and power in the hands of a family for several generations. Similarly, religious endowments such as the Islamic waqfs are not testified: while the association between families and temple in Ur III Nippur does not necessarily imply such a custom, the acquisition of temple offices through purchase or inheritance does not represent an example of expenditure of wealth for the sake of prestige since such offices always were an asset to the family. As we shall see, Islamic marriage arrangements follow only in part that of their Mesopotamian forebears with a consequent different position of women in both societies. The foregoing shows the dangers of 10

THEORIES OF MEANING AND ARCHAEOLOGY reconstructing ancient residential patterns by means of the combined (uncritical) use of ethnographic and cuneiform sources, without primary stress is given to the nonverbal, architectural record.

businessmen, while archaeological and textual evidence show a more flexible intermingling of diverse functions (see below). Also Van de Mieroop’s work (1992), a synthesis of both Charpin’s and Diakonoff’s analyses, does not attempt to bridge the gap between textual and architectural material. Although belonging to the new strands of Assyriology which re-evaluate the need of critical awareness and the importance of historical context, Van de Mieroop still contends the supremacy of the written record over the archaeological/material one, typical of traditional approaches (1999: 85–6). Family composition is studied only by virtue of the textual evidence, and conclusions are thus drawn on family structures, the women position, the presence of slaves etc., as if the family archives were always a thorough, and faithful account of family sociology. Drawing from Diakonoff’s archival reconstruction, Van de Mieroop also suggests that many of the Ur houses ‘contained extended rather than nuclear family units’, though he seems to agree with Leemans that the role of the extended family in Old Babylonian period had already decreased (Leemans 1986; Van de Mieroop 1992: 215). Finally, Van de Mieroop’s reconstruction of the ancient Mesopotamian city depends heavily on ethnographic parallels with the modern day Islamic city (e.g. Ur and modern Erbil in northern Iraq share a walled inner city, a major religious shrine, etc., Van de Mieroop 1992: 43-4, 221; 1997: 96), without testing the social inferences against the archaeological and textual materials. Thus, given the primarily linguistic and ethnographic (mis)reconstructions of Mesopotamian domestic space, many basic questions about the nature of the Mesopotamian house remain unanswered and its functioning is misinterpreted.

Most interesting among Mesopotamian cities is the evidence from the city of Ur, where one can exceptionally recreate the image of an Old Babylonian town by combining the textual evidence with the architectural. Although Woolley’s final publication of the Old Babylonian period was available in 1976, the analysis of the archaeological and architectural evidence was not given the priority it deserved, while family structures were reconstructed either on textual or ethnographic grounds or a mix of both. Soon after Woolley’s publication, Charpin focused his analysis solely on some few texts from the EM site where priests belonging to the Nanna temple lived, while major information was derived from administrative texts from both temple and palace institutions (1986). Unfortunately, Charpin’s analysis take for granted the editor Mitchell’s entries without critically analysing Woolley’s original field notes, thereby misinterpreting some of the tablet findspots and the spatial location of the families recorded in these texts; also Charpin does not try to fit the results of the architectural evidence with that of the family genealogy. The result is that one has a more or less perfect sequence of architectural changes totally disconnected from the textual succession of real estate and office among family members, thereby hampering our understanding of residential patterns. At the same time, although Diakonoff carried out a similar kind of research without limiting his focus to the priesthood (Diakonoff 1985, 1986), he substantially shows the same limitations of Charpin’s analysis. Diakonoff focused his investigation on the private citizenry of Ur and studied their residences and customs thereby aiming ‘at drawing a picture of Old Babylonian everyday life’ (Diakonoff 1990, Summary: 424). He showed the importance of extended families at Ur and shed light on the conditions of slaves and poor people. He demonstrated through analysis of land sale and rental documents that extended family ownership of land was typical of the rural population not connected with the temple and palace sector of the economy and that, while villagers were mostly organised in extended families, the city inhabitants were related by ties of kinship, business, clientage, etc. However, Diakonoff puts forward a picture of extended families and nuclear families as abstract entities despatialised from the actual architectural context. Finally, his estimate of the extended family sizes based on the ground of the usual medium size of an individual nuclear family in precapitalist societies (five to six person) is not justified by both the architectural and textual evidence. There is also a tendency in Diakonoff as well as in Mesopotamian scholarship in general to create too rigid a dichotomy between nuclear family houses inhabited by state employees and extended family units inhabited by free

In recent years, although Mesopotamian archaeology is characterised by a broad variety of approaches, there is a growing tendency to try to bridge the divide between textual/historic approaches and prehistoric/material ones. In contrast to the belief that (for textual periods) archaeology must assume the subservient role of support for textual history, there appears to be an increasing number of studies which emphasise the active role of the material record in relation to the sociology of domestic space. While these approaches are excellently surveyed by Matthews (2003: 155–182), I will mention here only those that are more relevant for a nonverbal theory of meaning. Following in the line of Adams’s interdisciplinary approach (1981), the agenda for the future is one of integration among archaeological/nonverbal data, philology, natural sciences and ethnography in the study of urban areas (Zettler 1996: 96; Potts 1997: 307, both cited in Matthews 2003: 64). This interdisciplinary track is well shown by relevant field projects and studies which range in time and space: the Abu Salabikh project (Sumerian city, Matthews and Postgate 1994: 171–212), Zettler’s study of the Ur III temple of Inanna at Nippur (1992), Banning’s analysis of late prehistoric-Early Dynastic houses (1997: 17–34), and Pfälzner’s investigation of III millennium houses in north Mesopotamia (2001). While 11

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING all such studies are very important and especially the Abu Salabikh project may be considered as the master example of how it is possible to reconstruct aspects of ancient domestic life through an innovative and meticulous analysis of all the nonverbal cues available, however, even when modern social techniques are employed, there surfaces again the old dependence on textual data and the fear of exploiting the full potentials of the archaeological record, thus failing to address social dynamics. This is particularly evident in Banning’s conclusion that, despite the rich material information provided by the houses, textual evidence is meagre about social changes ‘so that archaeological evidence is critical’ (1997: 31). In the absence of direct documentary information, the prejudice is retained that archaeologists can do little more than speculate about social structure; at most nonverbal cues can be painstakingly recorded and interpreted as markers of practices generally devoid of a conceptual framework. Likewise, recent cross-cultural studies which consider documentary and material evidence as equally important tools in the activation of social identity fail to address the theoretical issue of the relationships between verbal and nonverbal meanings and/or lack the courage of theorising the primacy of nonverbal semiosis (Andrén 1998; Moreland 2001). As widely acknowledged, archaeology and texts should collaborate if we are to understand the past in a holistic way (Matthews 2003: 30, 60), but, in order to move from the ‘tangible’ (things) to the ‘intangible’ (ideas, verbal structures) and to endow material culture/space with an active role, we need to theorise how this collaboration may come about. As we cannot link peers and apples, my suggestion throughout the book is of considering both things and texts on the common grounds of sign systems.

which underlies his quest for eidetic or underlying essences of human perception worldwide. Far from limiting his approach to formal system, Husserl, in a doubtful move, stresses the role of ideality also in natural language. But in languages, context and ‘semantic drift’ dismiss eidos and communication is possible for other reasons (Ruthrof 2000: 9–10). Within phenomenology, Husserl’s formality has been revised by Heidegger’s contributions to the philosophy of Being, or Merleau-Ponty’s ideas about the phenomenology of perception. The importance of the body in Heidegger’s philosophy is implied in such concepts as the ‘totality of involvements’, ‘Being-in-theworld’, ‘Being-towards-death’, or ‘Being-there’ (Dasein). With this respect, it is relevant his stress on human intentionality and his existential view of humanity. In contrast with traditional philosophy, Heidegger shows that Being is not devoid of reality but it always implies an ‘existential spatiality’ (Heidegger 1962: 83). Despite such a stress on ‘existence’, however, in Heidegger’s philosophy the body role is still underrated (Ruthrof 2000: 10). Being so restrained in the Husserlian phenomenology, it is perhaps not surprising that the body shows up more effectively in MerleauPonty’s post-Heideggerian philosophy. Husserl’s ‘appresentation’ is rephrased by Merleau-Ponty’s ‘primacy of perception’, the presentation of concealed aspects of life. According to Merleau-Ponty, basic perception is never direct but already coloured with meaning; Husserlian formalism is dismissed in that ‘being’ is always mediated by bodily experience. A distinction is drawn between the primary meaning generated by bodily action and linguistic meaning which stems from a ‘gestural meaning’ immanent in utterance situations, while body awareness allows ‘primary signification’ (Merleau-Ponty’s 1964a: 88; 1964b). Thus, meaning is not restricted to linguistic expressions but is a part of every perceptual act whereby we create our world. Undoubtedly, Merleau-Ponty’s approach has many features which prefigure corporeal semantics, but its ultimate emphasis on a ‘deep logos’ retains Husserlian, eidetic convictions (Ruthrof 2000: 12).

Towards corporeality Approaches which focus on the totality of human experience, defined by Ruthrof ‘corporeal turn’, contradict these formalistic views of meaning (2000: 6). Despite an underlying idealism, Edmund Husserl’s phenomenology opens the way to the reconsideration of the body. Husserl emphasises both perception of phenomena and consciousness as arising in the living body, thereby tackling the issues of perception and the status of knowledge derived from perception. Surely, visualisation appears to be the main aspect of the corporeal, an approach shared incidentally by current cognitive science. Yet, as shown by Ruthrof, ‘without visualisation as the perceptual ground from which consciousness arises, phenomenology could not do its work’ (2000: 9). Theme and horizon and the definition of the phenomenon are viewed essentially as visual processes, and only secondarily are these referred to other sensory activities, and to reflection and cognitive processes. The same applies to Husserl’s retention, recollection, protension, projection, appresentation, as well as different forms of reduction or the imaginative elaborations of reality which are performed in perceptual ways (Husserl 1973). However, Husserl cannot achieve the corporeal turn because of the mathematical leaning

Though the body has played an important role in feminist theories, their retention of structuralist ideas has prevented them from reinstating the corporeal in language. Indeed, as shown by Ruthrof, in post-structuralist feminist writings and their psychoanalytical approaches it is noticeable an attempt at achieving a corporeal theory of language which acknowledges the important features of female difference and maternal biomateriality (Ruthrof 2000: 109-110). But both Kristeva’s presymbolic semiotics with its drives and bodily energy (‘parler-femme’) and Irigaray’s celebration of the tactile as opposed to the dominant male visual bias are markedly constrained by their ‘linguistic presuppositions’ (Ruthrof 2000: 111). Though the attack on patriarchal structures of discourse by means of the female ‘touching’ body and ‘prediscursive reality’ is important, the body remains supplementary in feminist theorising of language. The relation between language and 12

THEORIES OF MEANING AND ARCHAEOLOGY world is viewed by feminist writers as a kind of translation in Jakobson’s sense in that each semiotic systems (language, music, etc.) has its own internal meaning which is only mediated through an intersemiotic translation (Banting 1992: 225–246). Hence since language has its own independent meaning as a semiotic system, nonverbal semiosis is still not essential for linguistic meaning (Ruthrof 2000: 109–112).

emergence of feminist theories has also shifted the focus towards corporeality, agency and narratives about ancient people with a stress on the social construction of women, sex and gender roles, as well as the critique of the masculinist bias which has split the domestic from the political arena, thereby undervaluing the impact of non-elites and women’s labour over wider socio-political systems (Wattenmaker 1998; Pollock 1999: 22–27; Bahrani 2001). However, none of these approaches have pursued the extreme consequences of viewing nonverbal semiosis as basis for both world and language. Probably the most important failing of the ‘archaeologies of the body’ is that the links between structure and event, meaning and practice, subject and object, and language and things are insufficiently theorised, and there is thus a need for a fuller comprehension of the link between scales. Even in the works of Gosden and Hodder, which have more influenced the approach followed in this book, the recursive relationship between these oppositions is not worked out fully, but the former overstates far too much the material and temporal direction, while Hodder develops a ‘reflexive methodology’ but prioritises the importance of the symbolic and social over the material and economic. In particular, one of Gosden’ main flaws is to avoid giving meanings to the symbolic structures of the past which are merely seen as elements of the ‘flows of life’, thus overlooking the issue of defining social structure. Although there is a tendency in postprocessual and feminist archaeology to avoid talking of societal structure, as if this would imply the use of a rigid framework of meaning, I think it to be too extreme a position. Indeed, social structures and symbolic meanings can be defined, though not in a deterministic way, if nonverbal semiosis is deemed to be an essential part of language. Thus habit is not just complemented by conscious thought and language but is the basis of language, its deep structure. Moreover, although in Barrett’s spatial analysis the layout of nonverbal cues such as monuments is studied not in terms of a two-dimensional plan, but in terms of the ways in which bodies would have moved through them, he focuses too much on the practices themselves as if devoid of a conceptual framework. It is hard to contend that practices can be studied disembodied from the structures, or tendencies which they reproduce. An archaeology of practice cannot, thus, avoid the methodological approach of hermeneutic circularity.

Finally, the sociologists Bourdieu and Giddens have thrown a new light on the emergence of the ‘corporeal turn’. They have somehow mediated between this and the ‘linguistic turn’ by invoking a recursive relationship between meaning and practice, words and things (Bourdieu’s ‘habitus’, Bourdieu 1977; Giddens’s structuration theory, Giddens 1979), in which the body as a recursive agency is given new emphasis. Undoubtedly, the idea of habitus, or the sedimentation of past practice in the human organism so that it unconsciously guides future practice, redresses the focus on nonverbal systems and their being socially controlled, thereby reminding of Peirce’s notion of ‘community’ (see below). However, by themselves theories of practice provide only an indirect and inadequate account of the relationship between verbal meaning and practice. This is because they tend to be more preoccupied with practical consciousness and instantiation than with their relationship with symbolic and verbal messages. Knowledge does not only raises through practice, but also through the interaction of different semiotic systems, both verbal and nonverbal. This is well shown by some concrete examples of the encounter of the ‘corporeal turn’ and archaeology. From ‘linguistic archaeology’ to the ‘archaeology of the body’ There are now an increasing number of examples of agency, structuration or practice theories in archaeology which originate mainly from within poststructuralism. I sketch here a brief picture of these to show what is useful and what is not from the perspective of corporeal semantics advocated in this book. British and northwestern European prehistory is now generally interpreted in this way. In particular, Hodder (1990; 2000), Gosden (1994), and Barrett (1996: 394–412), all tend to stress the links between power, knowledge and practice through time in taking the view that power arises from aspects of social action and that power and knowledge are closely intertwined. Some recent approaches, such as Gosden’s, trying to integrate practice within a total framework of being have turned to phenomenology. This emphasis on practice and the corporeal is an important development in that material culture is seen as meaningfully constituted by individuals and groups in their mutual relations (Hodder 1985). Moreover, also important is the breaking down of the subject/object distinction which entails a revision of the concept of consciousness or mind: the problem of consciousness is redressed from within corporeal experience, rather than focusing on mind and language as a separate container for our thought. Within Mesopotamian archaeology, the recent

The postprocessual stance and the archaeology of the body have some difficulties in reinstating the body in symbolic structures of discourse since their underlying assumption is that language is still in charge and nonverbal semiosis, though important, is only a supplementary track. They also do not consider practice or nonverbal grasp as the basis for both language and world. By contrast, this book contends that the problem of the recursive relationship between symbolic structures and material things is an ill-posed one. There cannot exist such thing as a direct relationship between an abstract set of structuring rules and material objects, while we should 13

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING acknowledge the idea of mediation, that we are dealing with sign systems. The primacy of nonverbal semiosis over the linguistic, as well as language’s recursive power of elaborating nontextual signs, have a revolutionary implication for archaeological interpretation in that they foreground the possibility of unravelling the ‘linguistic meaning’ of the past by moving from a series of repetitive practices to their concepts.

written conceptual frames; and if language is regarded as the master paradigm of all kinds of signification, nonverbal semiotics would be characterised only by linguistic features (2000: 22). Yet, as shown by the proxemic semiosis investigated in Mesopotamian domestic space, it seems unlikely to suggest that it must operate like linguistic signs. Semantically, the structuralist assumption that meanings are the outcome of the differential relations between terms must be also questioned. For instance, when we look at a foreign language or text, say ancient Akkadian or modern Chinese, we do notice the systematic sequence of signifiers, but these signifiers remain meaningless for the outsiders until they are linked to their signified meanings. Hence the Saussurean sign as a relation between signifier and signified can make sense only when we exit language, ‘when we combine the empty schemata of linguistic expressions with nonverbal signs’ (Ruthrof 2000: 23). In Ruthrof’s corporeal view, the same critique applies to the radical postmodern theorising which contends the emptiness of signifiers even for the native speaker of language (2000: 47). Derrida’s approach, following that of Peirce, has only emphasised the instability of meaning without doing away with it altogether. In his view of linguistic signification as a process characterised by différance and metapherein (‘being carried away’), Derrida elaborates Heidegger’s ‘as-structure’ whereby understanding always involves our comprehension of something as something else, thus implying only a possible drift of signification (Derrida 1978). Similarly, the ‘asignifying sign’ and the ‘declination’ of the signified, advanced by Deleuze and Guattari, seem to alert us to the process of infinite shift of meaning postulated a century ago by Peirce (Ruthrof 1997: 249). With this regard, the Lacanian collapse of the signified into the signifier can be disputed (Lacan 1974). If the signified or meaning is always slipping away and cannot ever be fulfilled, it follows that fantasy processes should be given a more important role. Indeed, a simple way of describing the signified is Ruthrof’s definition of ‘fantasies that a culture attaches to linguistic signifiers’, while ‘linguistic expressions are directional pathways to nonverbal fantasies about the world’ (2000: 26, 28). Finally, while Baudrillard’s declaration of the death of the signified contradicts his underlying ethical involvement, he is left with the ‘chess syntax’ (1984; 1987: 71). But such a formal syntax can only explain one aspect of language: its syntactic relations (Saussure 1974: 110).

Corporeal semantics As shown by Ruthrof, for corporeal semantics to work at all in the analysis of language we must acknowledge that the meanings we communicate are related to our world; also language is a somewhat coherent system which is not a private domain but it is socialised through learning (2000: 20). It is relevant to stress that our sensory interpretations of the world or readings play an important role in our experience of reality and self-expression. Conventional theories of meaning can explain only some of these aspects. A semantic theory in which meaning is determined by definitions can produce a plausible explanation of how communication is possible, but it fails to explain the connection between definitions and the world of our sensory experience. Likewise, an empiricist semantics which does not acknowledge the semiotic character of reality cannot easily show how a semiotic system such as language can relate directly to the material world without semiotic mediation; and such semantics considers as a fault the circularity of the fact that the world can be seen through the signs employed by culture, including those of its language (Ruthrof 2000: 21). By contrast, the main objective of corporeal semantics is to investigate the relation between our material experience of the world and the way we, and by extension ancient Mesopotamian people, speak or write about the world. Such bodily experience of the world does not refer to a ‘rough’ reality but to the different cultural constructions of the built-environment which are already nonverbal construals: in particular, given the focus of the book on ancient domestic space, nonverbal semiosis such as the sense of proximity and movement, or orientation. Such various readings are somewhat accommodated by our mind into the construction of a relatively meaningful world. As shown below, the connection between language and nonverbal construals is a key feature of meaning. Yet before this idea is tested against the archaeological data, I wish first to stress that words or ancient texts are empty in that their usual syntactic sequence is just an arbitrarily accepted grid of symbols for writing/speaking (Ruthrof 2000: 23).

Nonverbal meaning and fantasy acts The interesting point here is that sensory readings and their fantasy variants, namely nonverbal signals, can offer a way out of the syntactic formalism and thus may help us to make sense of our ancient material evidence. With this regard, Vico’s iconic view of the origins of language is particularly useful in archaeological perspective. Vico suggests that language has emerged from poetic speech characterised by tropes (metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche and irony); these are concrete ways of expression in early societies which become

The emptiness of linguistic signifiers does not mean that meaning must be removed from linguistics (Jakobson 1971: 567). Language in this way is as arbitrary as any other symbolic, semiotic system. I have already noted that Saussure draws far-fetched conclusions as regards the alleged arbitrariness of language and semiosis in general. From the perspective of Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics, Saussure’s position would exclude the presence of nonverbal readings, such as proxemic mappings of the ancient space use, inside linguistic or 14

THEORIES OF MEANING AND ARCHAEOLOGY ‘figurative’ only after the invention of abstract terms to signify species and part-whole connections (e.g. tectum, ‘roof’ stands for house; Vico 1968, cited in Ruthrof 2000: 36-7). Given the relevance of Vico’s path of research and the key role played by imagination in semantic processes, Ruthrof stresses that the ‘best support for corporal semantics can be found in cognitive science’ (2000: 39). Recent cognitive research shows that the body has a central position in evolution, mainly in such evolutionary processes as human imagination and language (Ruthrof 2000: 3941). Cognitive science and cognitive linguistics are reinstating the fundamental role of the mental realm which has been so far neglected by traditional theories of language. At the forefront of this research are visual, cognitive maps or mental-space representations of our surrounding world. Cognitive mapping, an activity whereby we elaborate dynamic models of the builtenvironment, is thus relevant for the study of ancient domestic space. Mental images are, for Finke, ‘the mental recreation or invention of an experience that in at least some respects resembles the actual experience of an object or an event, either in connection with, or in the absence of, direct sensory stimulation’ (1989: 2, cited in Ruthrof 2000: 39). As for the process of meaning, language reflections of the world are never direct but mediated by complex human cognitive elaborations and nonverbal construals. Ackerman supports the evolutionary priority of nonverbal readings with comparison to language in that there are ancient connections among smell, memory and learning in the limbic system, this being ‘the most primitive part of the brain’ in which we processed meanings ‘long before we embarked on language’ (Ackerman 1991: 11–12). Empirical research also shows that the intersemiotic relations among different sense readings are mandatory in the creation of pre-linguistic meaning (Ackerman 1991: 94). As suggested by clinical evidence, our senses produce some degree of ‘synaesthesia’ through the limbic system, and ‘natural synaesthetes’ are defined as ‘living cognitive fossils’ (Ackerman 1991: 290; cited in Ruthrof 2000: 67). Contrary to realist semantics and truth-conditional meaning, findings of imagery experiments demonstrate that mental images reflect only vaguely the experienced reality, thus allowing for polysemy, semantic drifts in different social contexts and distortions of cognitive maps (Finke 1990). Applied to language, for Ruthrof, this allows for both an inferential, realist semantics and the possibility that the rapid process of linguistic activation through nonverbal readings is also complicated by creative, mental elaborations of the nonverbal material employed (2000: 40). In line with corporeal semantics, cognitive science has thus recognised the role of fantasy in our mental elaborations of reality for the human brain has an intrinsic capacity of fantasising infinite, alternative worlds (Ruthrof 2000: 18). In cognitive rhetoric, cognitive principles are applied to literary signification, as our literary performances are shown to be influenced by our gravitational orientation, thus linking human biology to the mental realm of fantasy. On many issues

cognitive semantics shares the view of Ruthrof’s corporeal stance. While the former employs a positivist and experimental method, corporeal semantics is ‘critical-speculative’ and thus takes the opposite, ‘topdown approach’, focusing on the basic dynamics of understanding linguistic meaning. Moreover, corporeal semantics tries to establish a linkage between the cognitive approach and the hermeneutic tradition by emphasising the part-whole dynamics, crucial to the hermeneutic thought from Kant to Heidegger (Ruthrof 2000: 166). Also cognitive semantics does not consider Peirce’s semiotics as its foundational basis, thus not completely avoiding the danger of treating the perceived world as a realist stuff. While theories of linguistic meaning generally accept the influence of metalinguistic signs on speech (body stance, facial expression and gestures), Peirce’s view is much more up-to-date and supports more strongly the corporeal approach. For Peirce, nonverbal signs in the form of mental images endow language with meaning. In fact, Peirce considers significatory arbitrariness with a certain reluctance. He views still some indexicality in linguistic symbols in the sense that the evolutionary iconic traces of the social contexts of use are retained by linguistic expressions, even the more abstract ones. Corporeal semantics takes its main cue from Peirce’s stress on the function of icons, signs which are at least partially similar to their referents. Ruthrof shows that linguistic signifiers follow a trajectory from iconicity to simbolicity (2000: 85–97). To make this point, Sumerian cuneiform writing offers clear indication of the technological influence on the development of a writing system (Postgate 1992: 51–56). Beside the early evolution from clay bullae with clay tokens representing the later numerals, animals or commodities, highly iconic signs are gradually formalised to a degree that they are unrecognisable (Fig. 1.1). The signifiers progressively loose their iconic content, thus increasing the degree of arbitrariness which hampers direct comprehension by outsiders. Undoubtedly, formality has the clear advantages of clarity and fast-reproducibility, features of great value in such emergent economy. Since this vanishing corporeality of the signifier is matched by a process of conceptual interiorisation, then corporeality is transferred into the signified, namely perceptual readings and fantasy extensions. The Sumerian example shows that, although language and writing can be very effective in the imposition of a dominant worldview and in producing epistemic multiplication of meanings, it seems likely that human cognition is not fundamentally changed by literacy, and the latter does not break the continuity with preceding systems of communication, be they tokens, mnemonic devices, etc. (for a different opinion see Ong 1988; also cited in Pollock 1999: 170). The appearance of writing (lexical texts with word lists, literary compositions) and the system of knowledge it represents originate from a preexisting oral and cognitive tradition (Nissen, Damerow and Englund 1993: 19–20). As contended by Pollock, 15

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Uruk IV c. 3100

Sumerian c. 2500

Old Babylonian c. 1800

Neo-Babylonian c. 600 BC

SUMERIAN Babylonian APIN epinnu plough ŠE še’u grain

ŠAR kirû orchard

Figure 1.1 Gradual trajectory from iconicity to arbitrariness in Sumerian signifiers (after Oates 1979: fig. 6)

the invention of writing in Mesopotamia ‘was not the primary catalyst for major social, political, or economic change’, but ‘a response to other changes’ (1999: 172), thus a process which was triggered by unwritten forms of thought rooted in the material, economic realm. On the grounds that there is a trajectory from tokens to numerical tablets and that the use of mnemonic (remember the connection between memory and learning!) devices does not disappear with the advent of writing, one may conclude that also such advanced literate periods as those analysed here preserve traces of their primeval nonverbal, cognitive processes. According to Ruthrof, in fact, the corporeal signified is a linguistic signifier activated by nonverbal signs (2000: 116). However, Pierce stresses that the process of activation is not completely subjective, but is somewhat constrained by the community’s social guidance, thus avoiding mentalist/subjectivist, semiotic explanations. This notion of the community, which brings a significant improvement on Kant’s concept of sensus communis and the idea of reflective reason as opposed to determining reason, allows to theorise a flexibly controlled semiosis for the Sumerian signifiers (Peirce 1974: 5.311). Likewise, though Wittgenstein originally maintained a linguistic preference, his later stress on the importance of the imagination in linguistic utterance situations may probably suggest the need of the nonverbal to explain how language functions in real life (1953). If his ‘form of life’ is viewed as the nonverbal component of linguistic ‘use’, it can be deduced that the late Wittgenstein’s view of meaning is not at odds with nonverbal semiosis. In Peircean semiotics, ‘use’ would be equated with ‘community-guided habit’ (Ruthrof 2000: 134–135).

primeval and yet essential to human life, including our linguistic utterances or ancient writing. As reported by Ruthrof, blind and deaf people are able to give meanings to certain words only by ‘imaginative transfer’, namely through nonverbal semiosis; experimentally, there seems to be an intersemiotic linkage, a relation that supports the view that ‘the verbal is dependent in many respects on the perceptual and its imaginative variations’ (2000: 61– 66). While linguistic signifiers can be simply memorised as a syntactic grid, understanding that everything has a name arises only when this naming stage is filled with a preliminary knowledge of nonverbal experience. Although language is an incredible medium for the elaboration of textual worlds, according to Ruthrof’s cognitive evidence, ‘the causal, temporal relations of syntax are not invented by language’, but there is already ‘a preliminary understanding of the situation by nonverbal semiosis which is matched by syntax’ (2000: 66). However, Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics offers also a more philosophical explanation of how it is possible to establish the linkage between such different acts as perceptual/fantasy readings of reality and linguistic expressions. While in Jakobson’s intersemiotic translation autonomous signs have their own independent meanings, an explanation that relates two sign systems whereby one receives meaning only through the other is supported by cognitive linguists, as well as Peirce, Heidegger and Derrida. Ruthrof suggests that it is the ‘as structure’ of meaning which allows such a theory of the link between words and things (2000: 43–7). With this regard, cognitive linguists Lakoff and Turner (1989) elaborate Heidegger’s foundational as-structure of understanding by suggesting that ‘all reading involves construal’ (1989: 109). In cognitive processes, since mental concepts are always broader than their linguistic

In addition to corporeal and cognitive semantics, as well as Peircean semiosis, also experimental research on blind and deaf people shows that nonverbal sign systems are 16

THEORIES OF MEANING AND ARCHAEOLOGY designations, some meaning surplus always remains hidden and escapes definition. Thus, interpretations are always subject to great variability because concepts are not fully shared but are only flexibly constrained. In Ruthrof’s view, this means that ‘since syntax is fully shared, any surplus of meaning stems from the various nonverbal materials attached to signifiers’ (2000: 44). Moreover, Peircean semiotic translation, in which each sign gains meaning through another sign in an infinite chain, stresses two main aspects of meaning: the chain of signification and the intersemiotic relations between different sign systems which determine meaning. This is to say that a proxemic reading of ancient Mesopotamian space use can received further meaning by a visual confirmation, orientation, etc. while linguistic meanings are events of linkage between verbal/written grid and nonverbal contents (Ruthrof 2000: 44). Hence Peirce provides corporeal semantics with the basic features of a nonverbal theory of meaning. Likewise, Heidegger indicates that our understanding results from some preliminary interpretation. All as-structures does not occur in interpretative isolation but in a holistic framework (‘totality of involvements’). For Heidegger, the act of interpretation does not mean simply to ‘throw a signification’ over the bare reality, but the object scrutinised is already coloured by our interpretation (Heidegger 1962: 191). In linguistic terms, this means that words do not merely substitute our prior nonverbal (proxemic, visual, etc.) understanding but they allow us to explain further the whole context of inquiry, thereby achieving a better comprehension of the particular linguistic expressions concerned. For Heidegger ‘language already hides in itself a developed way of conceiving’ (1962: 199). The circularity of this reasoning is a key feature of the structure of meaning. While this hermeneutic circle is normally described as a linguistic feature, Ruthrof shows that it must include also nonverbal signs for the fact that we ‘see’, for instance, only what we have learnt to see (2000: 46). All kinds of signification are characterised by the as-structure of understanding and this precedes language (Heidegger 1962: 411). The as-structure dynamics that operate between linguistic frames and nonverbal systems are fundamental in corporeal semantics. Hence understanding and interpretation are not exclusively linguistic features but, in Ruthrof’s words, nonverbal semiosis can be considered ‘as the foundation of both our understanding of the world and our ability to endow linguistic expressions with meaning’ (2000: 46).

nonverbal semiosis in the understanding of language requires a radical redefinition of cultural utterance situations or written attestations. So classical approaches to deixis and reference must be revised as follow.

The dynamics of as-structure and the semiotic transformation of signs determine highly provisional signifieds/meanings. If perceptual and fantasy readings can activate empty linguistic frames, such activation is never rigidly fixed in a formal way. And yet, we manage to understand, though not always precisely, what people of our semiotic community say (Ruthrof, 2000: 47). Meaning variability and semantic latitude depend on the communicational and textual contexts. It is in this way that Ruthrof’s claim that ‘nonverbal signs are the deep stuff of language’ makes sense. But the importance of

Likewise, the traditional notion of reference is redefined in terms of corporeal semantics. While for Frege reference is the direct connection between a word or sentence and its correspondent portion in the actual world, Ruthrof’s corporeal approach rejects the realist view that an objective world ‘independent of human processes of cognition is directly available as reference’ (2000: 54). There are most promising venues which show the beginnings of a semiotic and corporeal notion of reference. Evans suggests that our references are never strictly defined, while perceptual acts are a relevant

Corporeal deixis and reference While the traditional notion of deixis stems from the Greek word for ‘pointing’, and thus it is defined by Peirce as ‘indication’, personal and spatio-temporal deixis refer to lexical elements that display information about the speaker’s position in relation to the utterance context. Only in realist texts there is a perceptual realisation of these three types of deixis. By contrast, since the vast majority of deictic aspects are hidden, recent corporeal linguistics has introduced an extended version of deixis: implicit or concealed deixis (Ruthrof 2000: 48–49; Holmes 1992: 243–357). As shown by Ruthrof, implicit deixis is by far the most important aspect of language: in each kind of discourse, a different implicit deixis may be at play, ‘a differing attitude towards what is said and to the nonverbal sign complexes that make up social reality’ (2000: 49). Any particular semantic field is never completely shared by two speakers and the same words or discourse may look somewhat different from the perspectives of different interlocutors. Nor is the additional deictic content something which can be separated from designation proper; meaning as an activation of language by nonverbal signs is similar to a continuous network without strict limits. Assuredly, Ruthrof’s ‘implied cultural deixis’ has a key role in language, since through ‘differing perceptions of the world, the cultural body enters the linguistic scene’ (2000: 49). Hence implicit deixis expresses profoundly the way a culture elaborates its language. Deixis is highly cultural and learned from one’s childhood since such implicit understanding is not accessible to the foreigner. Ruthrof’s deixis, then, is not a verbal feature, rather it is ‘a nonverbal constraint on the manner in which we are to envisage designated objects of thought’ (2000: 52). Although langue is generally viewed as the implicit structuring system of language, implicit deixis represents a less formal tendency, a routine or habitual implication, that is shared far more approximately than a grammatical rule. Since to understand a culture ultimately entails to detect its implicit deixis – whether it be contemporary or ancient – this would imply a theoretical impossibility of unravelling a single semiotic system in its entirety (Eco 1984, cited in Ruthrof 2000: 53).

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THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING feature of the world of which referents are part (1982: 311–19). Cognitive views of reference show that various referential ‘space constructions’ do not represent a direct fit with reality but rather an inferential, flexible reasoning (Fauconnier 1997: 68–69), thus allowing for the inclusion of fictional texts. Hence from the perspective of corporeal semantics, cultural deixis and reference share the same features. Contrary to Frege’s definitional reference, reference in corporeal semantics must be reformulated as an intersemiotic relation between signs. In Ruthrof’s words, ‘all reference turns out to be coloured by implicit deixis, which provides an additional, even if concealed, cultural perspective’ (2000: 59). Such colouring can be reduced or, in extreme circumstances when irony is involved, it may produce a reversal of the usual referential content. On the cross-cultural level, the same vocabulary and analytical reference may take different meanings because of a culture-specific implicit deixis. It also appears that while meaning has a general referential character, reference points to a specific relation. Contrary to formal systems such as geometry (or Fregean reference) which include a priori definitions, in natural languages definitions are construed first through social use, and only later are they formalised in the dictionary. As shown by Ruthrof, there is always a ‘general referential background’ (meaning/sense) and ‘a specific reference’ that indicates a specific group of signs: to understand a word or a discourse we have to look first at the ‘general intersemiotic background’ or situational context which discloses typical referential relations (2000: 58). In opposition to the Fregean view that fictional statements have no reference, corporeal semantics argues that fictions ‘multiply reference’, in the sense that the web of nonverbal materials involved increases markedly; hence, the difference between fictions and reality does not depend on reference as such, but on the degree of social constraints that shape our construals, realistic or fictional (2000: 58).

construals that must be fantasised to embody what is meant, are bound to vary considerably’, and there is ‘no strict propositional control’ of linguistic schemas at semantic level, especially for more complex discourse (2000: 53). Only when language is activated by nonverbal semiosis it is rid of its emptiness and becomes directed. In line with Peircean semiotics and cognitive linguistics, meaning is thus viewed in a phenomenological way, and in the Derridian sense of ‘disseminated direction’ (Derrida 1978: 24). Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics and its cognitive variants feature the directionality of language (the association of linguistic expressions and nonverbal readings) as a negotiation between two opposite boundaries, full determinacy and total indeterminacy: full determinacy indicates the frontier to formal systems, while with total indeterminacy the social semiotic collapses and communication is impossible (2000: 31–2). Likewise, the directionality of language is also characterised by a ‘directed underdetermination’ whereby semiotic systems are ‘always more determinable’ as in infinite semiosis (2000: 32). However, the nonverbal activation of language is somewhat constrained by social control and context. In more symbolic genres of discourse there is a wider range of the nonverbal signs involved in the activation of language, while in technical/legal or social discourse the variety of nonverbal readings is more restrained to those that are directly relevant (Ruthrof 2000: 32-3). Ruthrof’s corporeal explanation is certainly convincing in that it bypasses the definitional path which applies only to formal systems (2000: 32), but I would argue through the archaeological evidence that symbolic discourse may also involve a stronger linguistic re-elaboration of the nonverbal material concerned. Corporeal semantics and archaeology The idea that we are able to understand the past through chains of simple signifiers as advocated by contemporary Mesopotamian archaeology is shown to rest on a misconception. Language is meaningless without the nonverbal. This material aspect of language is not the rough world, but a construction of nonverbal signs whereby cultures shape reality in different ways. This corporeal model is applied to and tested against the interaction between the ancient textual and architectural evidence on domestic space. Instead of speaking of a direct link between ancient texts and architecture, meaning in ancient texts is seen as the activation of specific empty schemas by nonverbal sign systems, such as proxemic readings of such architecture (space morphologies), as well as the possible linguistic redefinitions of spatial constructions (normative laws on space use). Community supervision allows for consistent links between language and nonverbal signs, thus reducing semiotic opacity. Further, reference is not objective but already coloured by different implicit/deictic nonverbal meanings, while meaning becomes an intersemiotic relation between distinct systems of signs. The construction of nonverbal signs

Since it is difficult to disentangle and reconstruct the webs of nonverbal systems that trigger the referential and deictic aspects of language, different types of opacity must be considered (Ruthrof 2000: 53). Semiotic and modal opacity have to do respectively with the problem of reconstructing the general cultural background of discourse and interpreting the hidden aspects of implicit cultural deixis. This is more evident in written texts and especially in culturally distanced ones such as Mesopotamian documents which present greater difficulties in tackling modal opacity. Much interpretive efforts must be done to reconstruct appropriately the nonverbal and fantasy backgrounds for such texts. Yet whatever the degree of our familiarity with a culture, some opacity is always present since language is never fully transparent. Propositional opacity, on the other hand, has to do with an indeterminacy generated by the lack of strict directionality of the terminology, i.e. what kind of nonverbal signs are drawn upon to fill linguistic expressions. There is always a vague directionality as to what to imagine in response of words. For Ruthrof, any additional explanation, as well as ‘the nonverbal 18

THEORIES OF MEANING AND ARCHAEOLOGY such as proxemic spacing distances is socially coded by implicit deixis which expresses a tendency, not a rigid grammatical code. This tendency works according to Derrida and Heidegger’s ‘as-structure’ of meaning which is a primordial way of coping with world and precedes language. In sum, I explore the two main dimensions of meaning: (1) the as-structure of nonverbal readings in domestic space and their context of use which constrains the infinite chain of signs, and (2) the contexts of

activation of linguistic schemas in cuneiform archives, and further linguistic re-elaborations, through the family developmental cycle. While the ‘as-structure’ of meaning involves the search of patterned similarities and differences in the morphological use of domestic space which define the spatial deictic tendency in use, the analysis of context necessitates a shift from the infinite chain of signs to their use in specific situations. This is the topic of the next chapter.

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Chapter 2

Nonverbal meaning as implicit deixis in archaeology

The aim of this chapter is to highlight implicit deixis in nonverbal sign systems such as space use which will be later brought to bear on the ancient linguistic evidence of Mesopotamian family sociology. After the archaeological data on Mesopotamian houses are presented, social psychology studies and theories of nonverbal communications dealing with proxemic and morphological analysis of space are introduced and then applied to the archaeological record to define implicit deixis.

(British Museum and the Museum of the University of Pennsylvania) to Mesopotamia under the direction of Sir Leonard Woolley – represent unique archaeological contexts for such research in that archaeologists can recreate an image of an ancient town by combining archaeological and textual information. In fact, not only are there extensive residential quarters where it is possible to carry out social space analyses and investigate the role of material culture, but Woolley’s excavations in the twenties also yielded numerous archives which have almost all been published now, and provide an important second source of information on family structures. This city is situated in the very south of the modern country of Iraq, ancient Mesopotamia, near the provincial capital Nasiriya. While today Ur is located on the fringes of the Arabian desert, fifteen kilometres away from the Euphrates, in OB times the city was washed by the river whose water was used for

Reconstructing Mesopotamian nonverbal communication systems The OB Ur archaeological evidence Most promising among these Mesopotamian cities is the evidence from Ur, today reported as ‘the tell of pitch’, Tell al-Muqayyar (Fig. 2.1). Early literate societies like Old Babylonian Ur – excavated by the Joint Expedition

Figure 2.1 Map of ancient Mesopotamia (after ©Bible History Online) 20

NONVERBAL MEANING AS IMPLICIT DEIXIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY the irrigation of a vast area through a system of canals surrounded by marshes. These marshes were ideal for fishing and supplied reeds, but the economy of the city was mainly based on both oversea and overland commerce and Ur, being in the far south of the Mesopotamian alluvium, was the harbour for that traffic. After Pietro della Valle visited the site in 1625, the British archaeologists J. E. Taylor and H. R. Hall undertook three excavations of limited extent in 1853 and 1919 respectively, the real examination of the site took place under Sir Leonard Woolley in the years 1922–34. Although his methods of recording would not be acceptable today, Woolley was undoubtedly ahead of his time in terms of archaeological vision and practice. Unfortunately, the Second World War interrupted Woolley's publication programme, and thus the task of editing his manuscripts was carried out by Mr. T. C. Mitchell, then Deputy Keeper of Western Asiatic Antiquities at the British Museum. Although the final publication was not issued until 1976 (Woolley and Mallowan 1976), Woolley had published preliminary reports in The Antiquaries Journal (1927; 1931). The majority of the tablets had been already published in 1953 by Figulla and Martin (hereafter UEV) to which I will refer in the course of the book. The courtyard houses of the Ur neighbourhoods were so well preserved as to allow the reconstruction of complete drawings and plans. In addition, Woolley’s publication provides a vast amount of locational information about the distribution of

features, finds and cuneiform tablets whereby it is possible to carry out an extensive analysis of house types. Ur is more or less oval-shaped and cover about sixty hectares. Within the city walls Woolley found two main residential areas, namely the AH and EM sites (Fig. 2.2). Of the sixty-seven structures completely or nearly completely excavated, fourteen contained family archives, two in the EM site and twelve in the AH site, respectively. The AH site, about 150 meters south-east of the temenos, is the largest excavated area of domestic architecture and it measures some 8000 sq. m. Woolley unearthed fifty-two buildings that are crossed by four main streets which branch off from the central area, Carfax, in all directions. The EM site is located some 20 meters west of the temenos wall, just south of the Ekišnugal, the temple of Moond God Nanna. This site includes fifteen houses located on four street, and scattered over 2900 sq. m. Circulation through the city must have been very slow as the streets uncovered were narrow winding alleyways. The houses were built of mud bricks, with baked brick used for the foundations and the wall were often whitewashed. Baked brick were also employed for thresholds, for arches over door openings, and, especially, for pavements. Though an ideal house plan includes a central open courtyard, around which the rooms were grouped, the layout of the individual houses was greatly determined by family history and the available space. For instance, some houses have only up

Figure 2.2 AH (left) and EM residential sites at Ur (After Woolley and Mallowan 1976). 21

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING to four rooms in linear alignment, while others are single, double and triple court structures.

publication and the serious discrepancies between the publication and the field records, the reader must refer to my investigation of the original records (tablets’ and finds’ entries) carried out at the British Museum (Brusasco 2000: Appendix 3.1–2). This study contains a complete list of the houses of AH and EM sites with the corresponding findspots and publication number of tablets and some other objects.

In the main sites AH and EM, in which private houses were excavated, the terminus ante quem of their occupation was established by the tablets found in their ruins. We know from the texts that the houses did not belong to particularly wealthy people but were the residences of the middle-class, shopkeepers, merchants, priests, scribes, etc. The main concentration of tables is on the upper floor levels; owing to the custom of storing tablets for very long periods, the texts differ considerably in date, but the majority of them belong to the Larsa period (2025–1763 BC), while the latest go down to the reign of Hammurapi (1792–1750 BC) and to the early years of his son Samsu-iluna (1749–1712 BC). None of the tablets bear a date later than Samsu-iluna’s eleventh year (1738 BC), the year in which the king punished the rebellion of the Sumerian cities of the south by the complete destruction of Ur. Most of the houses, as well as the temple of Ningal, show marks of fire, the mud-brick of their walls being heavily burnt and their pavements covered with charred wood (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 13, 28).

The Nippur evidence The publication of the Oriental Institute of Chicago (McCown and Haines 1967), and in particular Haines’s chapter on the residential areas TA and TB in the so-called ‘Scribal Quarter’ provides a good opportunity for a study of Mesopotamian neighbourhoods and residential patterns, for it associates extensive house layouts and textual evidence. The chief religious centre of ancient Sumer and Babylonia, Nippur, the seat of the god Enlil, is situated in the southern part of Iraq, approximately a hundred miles south of Baghdad, and cover some 73 hectares. In the post-World War II series of excavations at Nippur, two separate areas of domestic architecture had been excavated by the Joint Expedition to Nippur (University Museum of Philadelphia and the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago), TA and TB, both of which had levels dating to the Isin-Larsa and Old Babylonian period. Since Stone’s careful examination of the stratigraphy suggests that the field records are probably more reliable than those published (Stone 1981: 20; 1987), I refer to the field entries of tablets and other finds (Stone 1987: Appendix II). The analysis of the Isin-Larsa and Old Babylonian levels in TA Nippur is designed to elicit information on the nature of the interaction of verbal and nonverbal sign systems for those house types which at Ur lacks the textual evidence, namely the fully-flanked courtyard house with a single row of rooms and the linear house.

Analysis of the archaeological contexts of recovery of artefacts, finds and tablets is relevant for it highly determines the reconstruction of the nonverbal sign system. Much of Woolley's final publication UE VII provides one of the first sources of locational information from southern Mesopotamia. However, since the artefacts/tablets and architecture are discussed in detail in two different sections of the book (the catalogue and the general description), the relationship between artefacts and their architectural contexts remains largely uninvestigated. Thus given the lacunae in Woolley’s final

Figure 2.3 TA residential quarter at Nippur (After Stone 1981: Fig. I)

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NONVERBAL MEANING AS IMPLICIT DEIXIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY Of the twelve houses excavated at TA (Fig. 2.3), five show the presence of family archives. In its most flourishing period (level XI), twelve houses compose the site of which six structures were completely or nearly completed excavated and these were scattered over an area of approximately 800 sq. m. traversed by a street running from north-east to south-west. These houses are usually quite small and have irregular linear plans, while House K and House I were of the square type. Both types resemble the plans of contemporary domestic structures at Ur. As shown by Stone, in spite of the continuous rebuilding on the same property lines, some important events in Nippur’s history and local-scale changes altered the general character of TA over time (1987: 71–4). The textual evidence from TA also indicates that this was a residential area occupied by small property owners and a scribal school is also possibly attested. The tablets show that TA was rebuilt after the destruction of Išme-Dagan of Isin in the twentieth century BC, but in level XIIA much of it was replaced by open space, perhaps symbolising the importance of House K’s residents. The site was built up again in the final Isin-Larsa and Old Babylonian periods (level XI) until 1739 BC when an economic crisis determined its partial abandonment and a drop in scribal activities. It seems that the entire city was temporarily abandoned in 1720 BC and reoccupied in the Kassite period (Stone 1987: 28, 72–4).

settings (Sanders 1990: 44). This means that spatial arrangements may contain important clues to the social content of interpersonal situations. Settings, that is milieus with ongoing behaviour related to it by rules, guide behaviour not only, or even principally, through the fixed-feature elements (house layouts) but through changes in the semi-fixed elements (furnishings), thus stressing the temporal component of spatial relations, their rhythms and periodicity (Altman 1975:122–144; Sanders 1990: 66–67; Rapoport 1990: 11–18). Within a cohesive group, conceptual attitudes form cultural conventions and cognitive maps which then become incorporated into future segments of the built environment, which, in turn, will cue later judgements and expectation (Canter 1975). However, contrary to the structuralist leaning of such people-environment model whereby architecture, like language, can be correctly read only if the coded meanings are rigidly fixed (Eco 1980; Jencks 1980), cultural conventions or implicit deixis characterise a tendency rather than a grammatical rule like the langue. For example, though the generalities and behavioural cues of the architectural organisation which reflect cultural deixis can be predicted by the visitor’s cognitive map or mental image of the “house”, the internal details reflect the personal values and are thus unpredictable (Sanders 1990: 46–7). In fact, psychological approaches emphasise that the patterns of ‘social’ space used by people are a direct function of their experiences and aspirations and that the impact of sociocultural tendencies, accepted by the group collectively, and of personal experience must thus be considered in tandem (Lawrence 1990: 75). Since behaviourenvironment studies have begun to establish this behavioural connection, archaeologists can study the physical cues and their redundancy in order to infer behavioural responses.

The other sites While the analysis is mainly based on data from Ur and Nippur, reference to similar houses from other sites which lack the combination of textual and architectural evidence is also made to clarify their sociology in the light of the former two sites. Single structures or relatively littler groups of mud-brick houses of the late third millennium and the Old Babylonian period are known from Larsa (Huot et al. 1989; 1991; Calvet 1994: 215–228; 1996: 197–209), Isin (Hrouda 1977; 1981; 1987), Tell ed-Dēr/Sippar-Amnānum (De Meyer 1978), Harâdum (Kepinski-Lecomte 1996: 191–196), Babylon (Reuther 1926), and Ešnunna (Delougaz, Hill, Lloyd 1967).

Social psychology studies deal primarily with spatial behaviour as one of the main channels of nonverbal communication (NVC). As Canter puts it, ‘the most distinguishing feature of such research has been that it had the definite objective of trying to contribute to the design process and of enabling architects to shape their designs in a way that is more psychologically satisfactory’ (1991: 12). Nonverbal communication, or bodily communication, takes place whenever one person influences another through various signals (e.g. facial expression, gaze, gestures, posture, etc.). For Argyle, ‘there is encoding by a person of his state, e.g. emotion, into a NV signal, which may be decoded by B, not necessarily correctly’ (1988: 2). Nonverbal signals may express emotions and attitudes to others, such as whether we like them or not, and they have more impact than words in both of these spheres. All NVC signals are partly innate and partly managed. It could be argued that the presence of both spontaneous expression of emotions and attitudes and their managed aspects belong to a primeval system of communication which has developed to promote social interaction. As shown by Argyle (1988: 1), ‘bodily signals in general are often quite small, subtle, and unconscious, which gives them an added interest’. While the innate mechanisms are controlled by mid-brain nervous centres (the limbic

Nonverbal communication theory Some useful theories and techniques for the study of the interaction of meaning and practice in archaeology are provided by both the ‘space syntax’ research programme developed by Hillier and Hanson (1984) at University College London (Bartlett School of Architecture and Planning) and environmental psychology and social psychology studies, namely the study of personenvironment interaction in both laboratory and real life settings. In the last 30 years, environmental psychology and its cognitive variants have attempted to understand the relationships that human action and behaviour have to the built environments in which they take place (Canter 1991: 11–12). Parallel to corporeal theories of habitual and recursive action (i.e. Peirce’s, Bourdieu’s and Giddens’s theory), is the environmental psychologists’ interactive model whereby human behaviour influences the organisation of the built environment, and this influences behaviour through its physical cues in specific 23

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING system), the managed attitudes originate from higher brain centres, an area which is more influenced by past learning and more under voluntary control. The distinction between conscious and unconscious signals is never clearcut and there can be various degrees of conscious responses, thus showing that the functioning of such signals is much more complex than had previously been realised (Argyle 1988: 4). While in most of verbal communication, and some NVC (gestures, e.g. pointing), both sender and receiver are aware of their performances, in spatial behaviour sender and receiver are mostly unaware, or not completely aware of the signals. Spatial behaviour is extremely effective in expressing people’s attitudes towards each other and interpersonal behaviour, and it is the most direct nonverbal signal, since it allows measurements in terms of distance and orientation (Argyle 1988: 3–4, 168–187; Argyle 1994: 1–22, 41–44).

However, since theories of distancing were based on analogies to animal territorial behaviour, social psychologists believe they may be inappropriate for the analysis of human traits, such as emotion, anticipation, and expectation (Altman 1975; Canter et al. 1975). Instead, it is argued that the concept of privacy is more suited to overcome the ethological constraints (Altman 1975). Moreover, the important concept of boundary control must be refined to include not only physical barriers, but also psychological, symbolic features (Lawrence 1985; Lavin 1981), judicial borders defining the limits of legal control, and administrative limits for the management of domains. As Lawrence shows, this has important implications for the meaning of transitional spaces and thresholds: ‘with a symbolic boundary accessibility and visibility between two domains is more dependent on social rules and conventions than in the case of a space enclosed by physical barriers’ (1990: 77). On the whole, social psychologists acknowledge that different cultures may employ different distances to establish the borders between the various degrees of intimacy/closeness, but in the same relative order as shown by Hall (Grøn 1991: 103; Sommer 1969: 109–14). Thus, Hall’s model and distances are valid as general directions for understanding ancient behavioural responses, but they must also be integrated with more encompassing behavioural theories about boundary types, information transfer and privacy. Though privacy shows highly culture-specific traits, the common feature is the control of undesired interpersonal interaction and communication (Sanders 1990: 49).

Spatial behaviour: interpersonal attitudes and proxemics I indicate here the behavioural factors reflected in the built environment and how prehistorians can study the built environment to uncover clues to behavioural conventions or implicit deixis. According to social psychology, factor analysis of social behaviour has consistently shown two main dimensions of attitudes (social motivations) towards others – friendly versus hostile and dominant versus submissive. Argyle and Dean put forward a theoretical model to account for the spatial dimension of interpersonal attitudes (1965). They proposed that proximity in social interaction is the outcome of a balance between approach and avoidance forces, so people will seek just the right degree of proximity (and orientation) with a particular individual, and may adjust their position in space to attain it (‘approach-avoidance conflict model’). These behavioural factors can be broken down into four main spatial components which are more easily observable in the archaeological record: personal space (proximity and orientation), territoriality, privacy regulation, and boundary controls (all are aspects of territorial behaviour).

Hillier and Hanson’s proxemic analysis indicates the main spatial features which reflect the behavioural conventions described above (1984). Their morphological interpretation of the ordering of domestic space stems from the development of a systematic method for the comparison of diverse buildings by the graphical analysis of house plans. However, only if morphological analysis is integrated with information about psychological, societal and cultural issues, namely with social psychology models, it may address the criticism of those who consider such method too deterministic and devoid of social penetration and privacy regulation (Lawrence 1990: 75). Therefore, I will try here to establish those formal properties of buildings that might reflect the ways in which personal contact and proximity between residents ad visitors is encouraged or inhibited, that is the approach-avoidance conflict and interpersonal attitudes. Their approach to space, which considers any building as a system of permeability from the outside as well as a system of control on the movement of a subset of inhabitants (head of the household, etc.) and a subset of visitors (visitors, servicemen, clients, etc.), is a useful tool of analysis for Mesopotamian houses. It is exactly the relation between inhabitants ad visitors that can be investigated by analysing spatial relations both from points inside the system and from the outside. In order to quantify the permeability patterns and compare different house plans and the bodily movements of different categories of people, the first stage is the representation

The nonverbal cues or signals for friendly-hostile and dominant-submissive attitudes are clearly encoded by the spatial position taken by actors. As for affiliation, in the 50s, American anthropologist Edward Hall’s innovative research on proxemics – the study of people’s use of space – discovered that the distance between two people interacting is proportional to their ‘social’ distance (1966). Closer distances are adopted for more intimate and friendly relations and vice versa. Conversely, dominance is expressed by controlling a larger territory, and by allowing freedom of movement. A high status person is able to start and stop encounters, and to choose degrees of proximity with greater freedom than low status people can. This has been described by Mehrabian as ‘non-reciprocity’, since the initiative is one-sided (1972). In the 1960s Sommer observed that orientation is also a cue for dominance: leaders tend to prefer positions at the ends of long rectangular tables (or other spaces) because a leader places himself where he can see and be seen by everyone, that is in a position of visual dominance (1961). 24

NONVERBAL MEANING AS IMPLICIT DEIXIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY of the properties mentioned above by means of a graph of space in the buildings (Figs. 6–7, below). This graph is composed of squares representing rooms and linking lines representing doors, and it is oriented to the outside in the sense that all spaces one step into the building are lined up on the same level, all those two steps at a level above, and so on. This device of representation has an important advantage over the normal plan as it renders the proxemic spacing distances among the single loci (and resident families) very clear (Gnivecki 1987: 176– 235; Hillier and Hanson 1984). In the building interiors the basic property seems to be the permeability of the system or, in other words, how the disposition of rooms and entrances controls access and circulation of residents and visitors. One can define the mathematical aspect of the permeability principle by reckoning an accessibility value (proximity value) for each room of the system. The accessibility value of the single loci represents the calculation of the distance from each room to the other ones, in terms of how many doors have to be crossed to reach a room. The degree to which a house plan, seen from the outside, is based on direct or indirect relations can be calculated by comparing the accessibility values of the single rooms with each other. Thus, one can study the entire circulation networks expressed as a specific value and the degree of integration of the single loci with respect to each other.

Nonverbal sign analysis: application to the archaeological record Before analysing the circulation patterns by converting the architectural plans into network charts, preliminary activity area research is required. In this way these charts can be analysed by studying the position of the various loci – and resident sub-groups – within the network. While I have dealt in detail with the identification of room functions elsewhere (Brusasco 2000), I sketch briefly the results on the identification of residential spaces, the degree of architectural segmentation, and gender-related activities, as they are relevant to network chart analysis and the interpretation of family sociology. Residential spaces and family compositions Quantitative analyses are employed to detect original spatial patterns and rooms functions (i.e. nonparametric tests of association, and the chi-square tests). Although the Mesopotamian tendency towards continuous remodelling of mud brick structures over old wall stubs entails that reoccupation may represent a serious hurdle to our understanding of the sequencing of activity areas through time, the fact that the abandonment is often rapid and unexpected would increase the possibilities that artefacts are recovered in their use zone (Stevenson 1991: 269–99). Unless a sequence of different paved floor levels is present, the reasoning followed here is that portable objects are more likely to belong to the later stage of occupation, and conversely structural elements may have been installed, but not necessarily, at the beginning of the occupation (Brusasco 2000: 61).

In this way, the social relations and interpersonal attitudes among the residents and the visitors can be captured through the investigation of different house types. In fact, there seems to be certain consistencies in the way in which the dimensions of the morphological model related to social-psychological factors. The accessibility values indicate respectively the degree of integration or segregation (approach-avoidance conflict) of each room in relation to the system, and of the system in comparison to other ones. The more descriptions display a low accessibility value, the more there will be a tendency to the integration and friendly relations among social categories such as the residents among each other and between residents and visitors. Conversely, the higher the accessibility value of a plan, the more there will be a trend towards segregation of social categories with hostile and more hierarchical interactions. The shift of such a parameter suggests also the achieved level of privacy which is the actual amount of interpersonal interaction and the degree of control exerted over the territory by the different families residing in the single loci. Finally, the duality of internal and external space adds the dimension of social solidarity in the study of house plans. Solidarity among different families will be discrete when it embodies a defined and well-controlled interior network of relations and reproduces this model within the neighbourhoods, thereby stressing relations based on Bernstein’s positional systems (official people, clients, 1971; Hillier and Hanson 1984: 18–25, 143–47). By contrast, spatial solidarity builds ties with other members of the group not by cultural analogy but by encounters and movements across the boundary with a personal or informal system of social relations (Bernstein 1971).

An ideal house plan seems to have included a central open courtyard, around which the rooms were grouped. There was a main living room where the dominant family resided, generally located on the side of the courtyard farthest from the front of the house, and secondary living rooms inhabited by additional families (Brusasco 2000: 66–69). The main living room formed with the chapel and the archive room an independent suite (HauptsaalEmpfangsraum, Miglus 1996: 211), while the other loci (i.e. kitchen, stairways, lavatories, workrooms) where opened directly onto the central courtyard. The domestic chapel, in which cult structures and the family burialvault were located, served for both the cult of the human forebears and the household gods. While this arrangement which shows a duplication of functions such as residential space, heating, consumption of food, and storage activities, is typical of Ur, Sippar, and Larsa, at Nippur and Harâdum the chapel suite is lacking and there is a simple disposition of loci round the courtyard. The above pattern is shown by the following analysis. The identification of most of the loci such as the kitchen, stairway, lavatories, chapel and archives is straightforward for it is suggested respectively by the presence of cooking/heating arrangements (fireplace, cooking range, bread oven), solid brick stairs, drains, cultic features (bench, table, and incense-hearth) and tablets, while the central space is in most cases a courtyard since it is provided with a system of drainage. Since the identification of living rooms is crucial for the 25

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING definition of family structures (one living room should equal one nuclear family, see below), both main living rooms and living rooms have been identified through an archaeological method whereby the significant presence of markers of residential loci is outlined. Table 2.1 shows the spatial correlates and patterns of artefact/feature distributions which characterise main living rooms: these are generally rectangular loci of a fairly big size (range: 4.48–31.00 sq. m, standard deviation: 5.29, mean: 11.25 sq. m) with a brick pavement and baked brick walls and show the significance presence of hearths and benches, as well as valuables such as weapons, tablets and decorated ware. These loci, located in the chapel suite, are generally characterised by architectural features of a clearly symbolic function (door buttresses, massive walls, wide entrances) which distinguish them from ordinary living rooms and can thus be considered as main living rooms (see official buildings in Mesopotamia, Heinrich and Seidl 1968: 21–23). Moreover, a group of ordinary residential spaces can be identified which show the same significant presence of semi-fixed cues (hearths and benches), though they have a smaller mean size (9.68 sq. m), lack the fixed markers of main living rooms, and have a smaller degree of valuables. They are always on one side of the courtyard but are not included in the chapel suite at the back of the house. Kitchens may sometimes double as living rooms as would indicate the presence in some instances of independent graves, as well

as hearths, benches, etc. The presence of solidly built brick stairways in some of the Ur (2.5%), Nippur (3 houses), Larsa, Isin, and Sippar and other houses may suggest that rooms on the first floor were also built perhaps for residential purposes, for access to the flat roof is normally gained by means of a simple ladder (see NeoBabylonian houses, Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 26). Since chapels have the highest percentage of vaults and valuable furnishings, while poorer graves are reported in secondary living rooms, kitchens and utility/workrooms, it follows that household members (probably the most powerful of them) are customarily buried in the more representative part of the house, and conversely less important people (i.e. widowers, widows, children, slaves, etc.) in the other residential suites (living rooms, kitchens, workrooms) (Ur; Sippar, Gasche 1978: 89; Larsa, Calvet 1996: 197–209). The presence of poor graves in some utility/workrooms may also indicate that these spaces were inhabited by servants and/or slaves. Finally, some of the storerooms of No. 3 Store Street (AH, Ur) with their remains of burnt straw, carbonised grain and date-stones, offer a parameter of size variability (range: 2.02–9 sq. m, standard deviation: 2.54, mean size: 4.96 sq. m) to detect other similar loci. Likewise, if residential spaces are excluded, there remains a group of large rooms (mean size: 11.91 sq. m) which show significant evidence of storage (jars and brick stands), and different kinds of somehow related home-based

Table 2.1 The archaeological model for the identification of main living rooms and living rooms. Chi-square tests of the correlation between room types and features/artefacts/tombs. Main living rooms/Living rooms /Other rooms Pearson X2

DF

Significance

Fixed features Wall thickness > 0.80 Door buttresses Door width > 1.10 m. Baked brick walls Brick-paved floor

23.02 22.07 23.03 23.08 22.09

1 1 1 1 1

0.000* 0.000* 0.000* 0.000* 0.000*

Semi-fixed features Hearths Benches Drains Niches

22.08 22.09 5.98 2.32

1 1 1 1

0.000* 0.000* 0.014* 0.12

Valuables Tablets/Weapons Decorated ware

0.045 22.06

1 1

0.83 0.000*

0.036

1

0.84

Tombs (vaults, larnax, pots)

* The asterisk marks those tests which are statistically significant for 5% confidence limits. A contingency table is built up wherein the variable room typology is broken down in main living rooms, living rooms and other types of loci, while features, finds and tombs are reported according to their presence or absence. The hypothesis that the variables of the cross-tabulation are independent of each other is tested (null hypothesis).

26

NONVERBAL MEANING AS IMPLICIT DEIXIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY manufacturing activities (bread ovens for large-scale bread production, handles, drill heads and pebbles for manufacturing activities and lapidary workshop, furnaces for metal-working). These workrooms are generally in association with storerooms to form an independent service area or workshop. While the presence of entrance suites may emphasise business relations (see presence of tablets, benches, etc.), the lack of pens and troughs for livestock which are typical structures of village houses adds further evidence of the high degree of urbanisation of Mesopotamian society.

Moreover, to address the issue of the ratio of gender specific to non-gender specific, and age-specific to non-age specific loci, one has to commence from the activities carried out in specific loci and try to identify gender and age groups in such spaces. In Mesopotamian archaeology, one is blessed enough to have nonverbal evidence of gender-related activities – in the form of both figurative art and archaeological materials – which can be checked later against the textual information. Figurative art suggests that certain items retrieved in the archaeological houses, like for example, blades and hooks pertain to male farming and fishing activities (Oates 1979, Fig. 132), tablets, seals, sealings and weights refer to male scribal and commercial activities (Postgate 1992, fig. 3.7), while drills, chisels, pottery, and weapons (maceheads and daggers) involve male manufacturing and war/hunting activities respectively (Oates 1979, Figs. 11, 131). By contrast, spindle whorls, loom weights, and grinders hint at female domestic tasks. In addition to child rearing, the production of textiles (spinning, warping and weaving) was the main work of women since early times, and they were also engaged in the preparation of food which involved grinding grain, baking bread, cooking, churning and the making of dairy products (Fig. 2.4). Although such representations certainly refer to women working for the institutional sector of the economy, there is evidence that home manufacturing of textiles was carried out by women along with daily domestic tasks. In fact, the equipment for spinning and weaving – namely spindle whorls and weights – lies side by side with grinders, rubbing stones and bread ovens in archaeologically excavated houses in Mesopotamia. This association is mainly present in courtyards, thus the more likely places to

As for the degree of architectural segmentation, that is the ratio of functionally restricted versus multipurpose activity areas, the higher the repetition of cues such as features and finds, the larger the degree of specialisation, and vice versa. Analysis of features’ and finds’ density across different types of loci shows that most loci have a small density and thus are multifunctional spaces (courtyard, main living rooms, living rooms, kitchen, chapel), meaning by this that they are not exclusively used for one or closely related functions, while only stairs, latrines and archive rooms represent the most task-specific loci. Contrary to Mesopotamian more flexible and temporal use of space, the presence of cumbersome furniture in most of our homes shows that the western idea of space use in industrial towns is pretty much linked to monofunctional and segregated spaces. Thus, before we bring to bear on the ancient perceptual readings of domestic spaces our present ideas or mental maps of what a kitchen, a living room, or a lavatory should be like to be what it is, one must seriously deconstruct such present framework of nonverbal semiosis.

a

b Figure 2.4 a. Shell mosaic from Mari showing two women working with a spindle (mid-third millennium BC); b. Cylinder seals of the early third millennium BC with women weaving (left), warping (centre) and spinning (right) (After Barber 1994).

27

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING accommodate women activities. It is probably in these multipurpose loci that ordinary housewives daily ground the flour, made bread and worked on cloth for the household, while the grinding of grain, and bread making may have also occurred in living rooms and kitchens where similar grinders and ovens (but not textile equipment) were found. If the occasional presence of cylinder seals in association with such female tools may allow one to predict that their owners were females, it is thus likely that home manufacturing of textiles was not meant only to provide the household with cloth but also for running textile business. It can be also assumed that while daughters undoubtedly learnt to weave by helping their mothers, boys and older sons joined their fathers’ business. By 4000 BC in the Near East one sees major changes in gender roles occurring as a result of the realisation that domestic animals were not only useful for meat when butchered, but also for milk, milk products, wool and muscle power while alive. The introduction of ploughing with large draft animals, possibly more dangerous for women, diminished considerably women’s role (especially those with children) in the mainstream of food production. Consequently, women had relatively more time to spend in new activities, the production of fabrics being one of the most important (Barber 1994: 164). As for male activities, diagnostic artefacts such as blades and hooks (farming and fishing), tablets, seals, sealings and weights (commerce), as well as chisels, drills, and pottery (manufacture) are significantly associated with main living rooms, living rooms, courtyards, workrooms and storerooms, thereby showing the presence of such activities (or the storage of such diagnostic items) in these specific loci of the house. Since figurative art shows also evidence of prisoners of war and slavery (Postgate 1992: Fig. 2.3), it is thus likely that at least some of these farming and manufacturing activities were carried out by domestic male slaves in utility/workrooms, while female works such as weaving, spinning and cooking may also be carried out by female slaves.

of square houses and this is probably due to the contingency of the available space, the limitations imposed by underlying walls, and family wealth (Figs. 2.6–9, below); linear structures are conversely inhabited by nuclear units only (Fig. 2.5, below) (Brusasco 2000: 94). Two-story dwellings are generally of the extended family type and are the residences of extremely well-off families for they are extremely scanty and have a considerably large floor area (mean: 176.74 sq. m). The definition of various room functions are mapped onto these charts which are ready for further investigation. The social structures and circulation patterns of the individual houses are specified by analysing their network charts and the positioning of different types of loci within the network. In particular, since each living room maps the existence of one single nuclear family, the study of the integration of these loci in the network system shows how power relations are negotiated among different families. It is thus possible to suggest models of family power relations in terms of the shifting parameter of the approach-avoidance dimension across different house types. a. Nuclear family houses (Figs. 2.5–2.6) As for the nuclear family houses, the visual transformation from the plans to the network charts makes some points obvious (Figs. 2.5–2.6). The charts of Model 1 have the smallest accessibility value, floor area and number of rooms of the other models, and they are shallower and have a general tree-like shape with a total absence of rings of routes (Fig. 2.5). In terms of social psychology, while on the interior-exterior dimension, the relatively low house accessibility value and shallower chart show that the resident family depends here more on communication of its status locally, namely on spatial solidarity and interactive/affiliative relations with the outside (Bernstein’s personal system of kith and kin, 1971), on the internal level the tree-like charts with their limited connections among rooms indicate ‘approachavoidance’. Here spatial meaning is expressed by relatively tacit social rules and conventions and the definition of those physical barriers delimiting public from private space was not so explicit. Moreover, the social psychology of the single spaces shows that there is only a minimal separation between symbolic spaces such as chapel/family room or main living room (see higher accessibility values stressing ‘approachavoidance’) on the one hand and service ones such as courtyard and entrance on the other, thus hinting at simple and equalitarian or informal relations between family members, visitors and residents, visitors and servants or slaves (if any). Also, the main living rooms and/or the chapels are always in a position of ‘visual dominance’ at the furthest end of the court facing the entrance.

Implicit deixis in archaeology: network charts analysis and proxemics The identification of residential rooms across Mesopotamian houses gives an extraordinary clue about the social structures of the families residing in such buildings. Drawing from ethnographic parallels with Islamic houses, if a one-to-one relationship between a living room and a family is assumed (Kramer 1982: 114–115), it is then possible to deduce the family structure which compose the single dwellings. Since the adoption of such equation would represent an imposition of nonverbal sign systems and perceptual worlds borrowed from the ethnographic ‘present’ into the archaeological past, it must be employ in a general sense, meaning by this that these houses may be respectively inhabited by one or more social sub-units, whose actual composition may be specified only in the light of the textual evidence. Following this equation, there exists a flexible residential pattern whereby nuclear and extended units are housed in different types

Although deeper and less accessible than those of model 1, the charts of model 2 partake with the ones of model 1 a generally interior-exterior orientation with spatial solidarity and affiliative/interactive dimension towards the 28

NONVERBAL MEANING AS IMPLICIT DEIXIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY

3

High Accessibility R1 Entrance R2 Courtyard

2 viii

X

a.

High Accessibility R1 Entrance R2 Courtyard R3 Main living r.

3 2

Low Accessibility R4 Family room

1

H

3

High Accessibility R1 Entrance R2 Courtyard

2

Low Accessibility R3 Main living r.

1

4

0 0 0

No. 8–10 Paternoster Row, AH, Ur

4

Street

C.I. 0 0 0

Low Accessibility 6 R3 Chapel/Main l. r. 6 14

Street

Street

A.I. 4 4 4

G

High Accessibility R1 Entrance R2 Courtyard

3 2

Low Accessibility R3 Storeroom R4 Main Living r.

1 Street

A.I. 6-7 7 6 7

C.I. 0 0 0 0

10 10 30

0 0 0

A.I. 4 4 4

C.I. 0 0 0

6 6 14

0 0 0

A.I. 5-6 6 5

C.I. 0 0 0

8 8 8 27

0 0 0 0

E b. House H, G and E, TA, Nippur

c. House 11, Harâdum

d. Early Akkadian Houses X and XI, Tell Asmar, Va

e. House from Isin

Figure 2.5 Model-1 houses: proxemic nonverbal deixis showing an ‘approach-avoidance’ framework of relatively informal relations among residents and between residents and visitors.

29

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING

7 3

4

6

8

2 1 Street

a. No. 5 Quiet Street, III phase, EM, Ur

6 8

7

3

5

9

4 2 1 Street

A.I. 9 9

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Service r. R4 (Main) living r. R6 Chapel R8 Service r.

13-15 13 15 14 14 13

0-1 0 0 1 1 0

Low Accessibility R7 Service, store r.

19 19 97

0 0 3

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard R4 (Main) living r.

A.I. 17-19 17 19

0 0 0

R9 Entrance

19

0

Middle Accessibility R1 Storeroom R3 Entrance suite R5 Chapel

21-23 25 27 23

0 0 0 0

R8 Entrance suite

27

0

Low Accessibility

29-31 0

R6 Archive room R7 Archive room

31 31 219

b. No. 7 Quiet Street, II phase (EM, Ur)

7 6 3

5 2

4

1 Street

C.I.

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard

1 1

C.I.

0 0 0

High Accessibility R1 Entrance R2 Courtyard R5 (Main) living r.

A.I. 12-14 14 12 14

C.I. 1 1 1 0

Middle Accessibility R3 Entrance suite R4 Entrance suite R6 Passage

16-18 16 18 18

1 1 1 0

Low Accessibility R7 Family room

24 24 116

0 0 4

c. House from OB/Kassite Babylon

d. House I, TB, Nippur

e. Akkadian House XXXVIII, Tell Asmar, IVa

Figure 2.6 Model 2 (Fully-flanked houses, and houses with rooms on three sides of the courtyard): proxemic nonverbal deixis showing the ‘approach-avoidance’ framework with spatial solidarity and an increasing social tension from a to b-e. 30

NONVERBAL MEANING AS IMPLICIT DEIXIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY

outside which is counterbalanced internally by the ‘approach-avoidance’ dimension of their tree-like shape (Fig. 2.6). The position of the single loci into network shows two main pattern showing increasing internal tension: one pattern (a) in which the affiliative/interactive model is stressed by the similar integration of the main living room (4) and the chapel (6) as they both open directly unto the courtyard, and a second pattern (b-e) in which the main living room (b: 4; c: 5; d: 6; e: 6) is markedly more integrated than the chapel (b: 5; or the Family rooms 7 in c, d and e) and controls access to the latter, thus showing a prevailing ‘approach-avoidance’ dimension. In both patterns, the main living room, the chapel and/or the Family room is always in a position of ‘visual dominance’. Moreover, the high accessibility value of the newly built entrance suite (composed of two different spaces) and its external position in the network suggest that it is meant to emphasise the relations with the outside world. The fact that this suite is not as expanded as in the case of the double court house may show that it maps relations on a relatively local scale.

room), passes through it. It is therefore an expression of the power and control exercised by the main branch of the household over the other people. These others, residing as they are in living rooms which are far less integrated into the all system, do not have equal rights of access to the chapel suite but conversely depend on the controlling effect of the principal family which organises ritual gatherings and business activities. While the asymmetric integration of the main living room with respect to the secondary ones applies also in sites such as Old Babylonian Larsa (c: main living room 15, chapel 19, living rooms 10 and 14) and Isin (d: main living room 5 and chapel 9, living rooms 3 and 4), the very large houses of the Larsa quarter suggest that they are inhabited by particularly wealthy families. In terms of social psychology, Mehrabian ‘non-reciprocity’ principle applies here: the dominant family is in a position of ‘visual dominance’, controls a larger territory and stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension, while in the secondary living rooms the ‘approach-avoidance’ component prevails. The high accessibility value of the entrance suite and its external position in the network suggest that it is meant to emphasise the relations with the outside world, while its being less expanded than the entrance suite of the double court house may show that it maps relations on a relatively more local scale.

b. Extended family houses (Figs. 2.7–2.9) Three main social models are highlighted by means of the present analysis. In Model 3 (social equality) the similar integration of the living rooms (see same accessibility values hinting at a similar ‘approach-avoidance’) within the system may spatialise social equality between the resident families and no family is thus able to dominate the others by controlling a larger territory or the chapel area (Fig. 2.7, a and b: loci 6, 7, 9; c: 4, 6, 8; d: 6, 7, 8; e: 4, 6 9). As to orientation, no living room connected to the chapel/family room suite is located in a position of visual dominance.

Finally, the double court structures belong to Model 5, namely a model of complex social inequality among resident families (Fig. 2.9). With respect to the single court models, the relatively higher house accessibility value and deeper chart of this model may indicate that the ‘approach-avoidance’ dimension prevails here both in the internal and external relations and the sphere of interest of the household has shifted from the local society to more distant relations – both spatially and socially – so that it does not depend on communication of its status locally (see Bernstein’s positional system, 1971). Since privacy mechanisms and boundary controls on the flow of information are emphasised here, spatial meaning is expressed by relatively more formal rules and conventions and the definition of those physical barriers delimiting public from private space is more explicit, and the interior relations are more structured. As for the position of the internal cells into the network, while in the double court house of Ur (a) there appears a pattern in which the usual association of main living room and chapel is doubled by an extra chapel suite positioned in this case in the additional courtyard, in the earlier houses of Nippur and Tell Asmar there is a stronger asymmetrical organisation whereby the chapel is located either in the back courtyard sector (b: chapel 23) or in the entrance one (c: chapel 7). From the viewpoint of the visitors, the deepest sector of the Ur house a is that composed by the archive rooms and chapel suites opening onto the yards, while the other loci are on a relatively shallower position. From the viewpoint of the inhabitants in the No. 3 Straight Street sector of the house, the relatively high integration of the main living room 6 in relation to the secondary living room 4 suggests the existence of social relations implying

The charts of Model 4 (social inequality among the resident families of the single court houses), the most common one, are not much deeper than those of model 3 and share a similar interior-exterior orientation hinting at spatial solidarity and an affiliative dimension towards the outside world, while their tree-like shape stresses the ‘approach-avoidance’ dimension in the internal relations (Fig. 2.8). Moreover, from the point of view of the visitors, the chapel (a, b: loci 9; c: locus 19; d: 9) and the kitchen (c: 7–8) are far more secluded than either the residential loci or the courtyard (see their respective depths from outside). Looking at the integration of the various cells within the system, that is the relations of inhabitants to each other, the chapel and the archive room are the most segregated (see higher accessibility values), while there is a clear difference between the degree of integration of the main living room (a: 8; b: 6; c: 15; d: 5) and that of the living rooms (a: 4, 6; b: 5; c: 10, 14; d: 3, 4). The former is after the courtyard, the most integrated space with the rest of the household, meaning by this that it is the most strategic and powerful place of the entire complex. Syntactically, such space is in fact a kind of centre of the household in that the route which gives access to the most important sector of the house, namely the chapel suite (chapel and archive 31

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING

9

6

8

X

7

3

4

5

2 1 Street

a.

8 9

House K, TA, Nippur

X 7

6

3

4

5

2 1 Street

A.I.

C.I.

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard

11 11

0 0

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Stairway R4 Kitchen R5 Service room R6 Living room R7 Living room R9 Living room

17-19 18 18 18 19 19 17 19

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Low Accessibility R8 Storeroom (RX Living r. I Fl.

25 25 28

0 0 0)

164

0

A.I. High Accessibility 11-17 R1 Entrance 17 R2 Courtyard 11

C.I.

Middle Accessibility R3 Stairway R4 Lavatory R5 Kitchen R6 Living room R7 Living room R9 Living room

15-17 19 19 19 19 19 10

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Low Accessibility R8 Storage (RX Living r. I Fl.

25 25 25 158

0 0 0) 0

0 0 0

b. No. 3 Gay Street, EM, Ur

c. House from OB/Kassite Babylon

d. House 3, Harâdum

e. ED III/Early Akkadian House I from Tell Asmar, Vb

Figure 2.7 Model 3 (Fully-flanked houses with one row of rooms on the courtyard): proxemic nonverbal deixis of social equality among resident families and spatial solidarity.

32

NONVERBAL MEANING AS IMPLICIT DEIXIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY

7 6

4

9

10

8

3 5

2 1 Street

a. No. 1 Store Street, II phase, AH, Ur

9 4

8

5

7

6 2 3

1 Street

A.I. 17-22 20 17 22

0 0 0 0

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R4 Living room R6 Living room R10 Stairway

25-26 25 26 26 26

0 0 0 0 0

Low Accessibility R5 Entrance suite R7 Lavatory R9 Chapel

31-37 34 31 31 258

0 0 0 0 0

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard R6 Main living r.

A.I. 13-15 13 15

1 1 0

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Entrance R5 Living room R4 Stairway

19-21 19 19 21 21

1 1 1 0 0

Low Accessibility R7 Storeroom R8 Service room R9 Chapel

23 23 23 23 177

0 0 0 0 1

b. ‘Bâtiment Central’, Sippar

c. House B 27, Larsa

d. House from Isin

Figure 2.8 Model 4 (Fully-flanked houses with more than one row of rooms onto the courtyard): proxemic nonverbal deixis of social inequality among resident families and spatial solidarity.

33

C.I.

High Accessibility R2 Passage R3 Courtyard R8 Main living r.

C.I.

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING

11 6

X

5

10

4

3

7

5

6

8

2

X1

9

14

2

1

7

I

VII

4 III

3

C.I.

High Accessibility OR2 Courtyard OR3 Stairway/Passage SR2 Courtyard SR6 Main Living r. SR7 Passage SR10 Chapel

A.I. 67-76 73 69 76 70 72 67

2-3 3 2 2 2 2 2

Middle Accessibility OR1 Entrance-lobby OR4 Lavatory OR5 Main Living r. OR7 Kitchen (ORX Living r., I Fl. SR3 Lavatory SR4 Entrance suite SR5 Private Lavatory SR8 Service/Storage SR9 Kitchen SR11 Chapel SR14 Stairway

89-96 89 93 91 89 98 96 92 90 96 96 87 96

0-2 2 0 0 2 0) 0 2 0 0 0 0 0

Low Accessibility ORI Entrance suite ORVII Entrance suite OR6 Chapel SRIII Entrance-lobby (SRX1 Living r., I Fl.

107-111 107 107 111 110 125 1877

0-2 2 2 0 2 0) 25

Street

A a. No. 1 Old Street Street/3 Straight Street, AH, Ur

b. Ur III House J, TB, Nippur

c. Akkadian House XXXIIA, Tell Asmar, IVa

Figure 2.9 Model 5 (Double court houses): proxemic nonverbal deixis of complex social inequality among resident families and discrete solidarity.

34

NONVERBAL MEANING AS IMPLICIT DEIXIS IN ARCHAEOLOGY inequality between different generation groups, that is senior (and/or more powerful) branch of the family versus junior ones. But in such a case the pattern is further complicated by the presence of an extra house (No. 1 Old Street) with a main living room (5) where an additional dominant family resides. That this is the most powerful branch of the entire household is suggested by the fact that its residential space is more directly connected with the structured entrance suites (business interface space I-1 and VII-7 where tablets are found) than the remaining living rooms and the family also controls the additional chapel 6 as well as the most important archive room (recess in the chapel) of the entire complex. In terms of social psychology, the Mehrabian ‘non-reciprocity’ principle applies here: although the dominant family does not allow for interaction within the network (see higher accessibility value of its residential space 5 with respect the main living room 6 of No. 3 Straight Street), it stresses the approach dimension towards the business interface suites, while the less dominant people manifest the interactive/affiliative dimension within the network but ‘approach-avoidance’ towards the most important sector of the house (i.e. entrance suites and main archive room), thus generating a complex imbalance in internal relations. This is even stronger in the Nippur and the Tell Asmar examples b and c in that only one sector of the house disposes of the main living room and the chapel (b: sector round courtyard 13 with main living room 18 and chapel 23; c: sector round courtyard 2 with main living room 5, chapel 7), while the remainder show only secondary residential loci (b: 4, 7, 9; c: 15, 17, 12). Further, the main living rooms 5 and 6 (a), as well as 18 and 5 (b and c, respectively) dominate visually, implying also some sort of social dominance. In the Ur house a, while the external relations of No. 1 Old Street are interfaced by a strong boundary with a complex set of corridors and rooms (I-1, VII-7) probably designed to map relations with formal guests (i.e. clients, official people), this interface space is not present in No. 3 Straight Street which appears to spatialise more informal relations with the outside world.

where all members of the household have equal access and equal rights, while its relatively shallow distance from the outside points to the less private character of the activities here carried out by women. However, while in the Model 3 of social equality women from different families may interact more freely and with equal rights in the accomplishments of their domestic tasks, the higher segregation of the secondary living rooms with respect to the main living room in the houses belonging to the two Models 4 and 5 of social inequality (Figs. 2.8, 2.9, above) points to the opposite direction. Here, one is dealing with a system of domination that may imply power and control of the main family over the junior branches, and this may also suggest a specific segregation, namely that between the women of the main family and the women of the junior's. Thus, the broad distribution of gender-related activities across the main residential quarters of the house and the central courtyard would suggest the lack of gender-specific loci and the natural intermingling of male and female activities in the house as a whole. Interestingly, it would appear that women were not segregated to specific areas of the house but could carry out their domestic and manufacturing tasks with a certain freedom. Although the absence of female quarters and the presence of men's reception rooms (entrance suite: andron) has been recently interpreted by some scholars of Classic Greece as a clear sign of sexual asymmetry whereby women are confined to the entire interior of the house (Nevett 1994: 98–112), and women seclusion is also more or less contented by Mesopotamian scholars (e.g. Archi 2002: 3–4), this is not the case in Mesopotamia. While entrance suites are not exclusive male activity areas, in a society where space is primarily generation specific and based on power relations stress on the dominant family versus junior (and/or less powerful) branches seems conversely to suggest a relation of domination between women of the main family and the remainders. But it seems quite difficult to know whether within each family men or women really have power. It seems, in fact, that the question of who retains more power should not be posed in these terms, if we are to avoid oversimplification. As shown by feminist archaeology, by approaching the question of power only in terms of the control of resources we undervalue the cultural construction of gender, since there are many different types of power and prestige which do not arise directly from the control of resources. Women can be determinant in the allocation of space, and can create alternative dimensions of power through a specific symbolism even without directly controlling physical or social space (Ardener 1993: 19–20; Hodder 1991: 11– 16). Bearing this in mind, one may try to define the implicit deixis of Mesopotamian gender relationships. In particular, the constant presence of family tombs which contain a relatively large number of burials emphasises the kinship structure of the society; moreover, the repetitive cult acts involving the presentation of food and drink at the tombs, have to do with ideas of regeneration, renewal and social reproduction of the descent line. Within this framework of the kinship-renewal model, the female world and symbolism may be highlighted. It seems to be reasonable therefore to argue that, given such

c. Tracking women and space Network chart analysis sheds light on gender relations. The social relations of women are mapped into various loci of the house, the main ones being main living rooms, living rooms, courtyards, and kitchens respectively. Overall, from the analysis of their positions within the network it is not possible to conclude about any kind of women seclusion within the house. In the houses belonging to the Model 3 of social equality (Fig. 2.7, above), living rooms and kitchens are well integrated with the complex as a whole, meaning by this that the control of everyday relations within the household is governed by women; further, the position of residential spaces on the sides of the courtyard and quite removed from the entrance suggests that such control is transformed in a need of privacy for the household as a whole. This space is therefore a place in which women carry out private tasks and entertain their close friends and relatives. On the other hand, the courtyard position with its high integration within the house is the place 35

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING emphasis on reproduction, and given the multi-scalar dimension of power, the Mesopotamian women are not powerless and subordinated, but have rather a pivotal function in the continuity of their household line. Such an important function is likely to confer them (or more to those belonging to the dominant family) a certain control not only on the basic internal negotiations but also on a more external domain. It is finally in this context that the numerous representations of naked women on the terracottas from Mesopotamian workshops (e.g. of Diqdiqqah, Ur) come to have a meaning: such figures (often with breast-presenting) stress one main aspect of female power and control over the cycles of reproduction, and renewal, and hint at the possible symbolic use of female erotic power in a broader sense (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 81–87, 173–181). If one considers similar nude representations of the goddess of love and war, Inanna/Ishtar (e.g. the Burney relief of the early II millennium BC), whose talons are those of a bird of prey, one might deduce that their erotic allure (kuzbu) is not simply passive but has an element of power in itself (Pruss 2002: 543–4). In Mesopotamia, representations of sexuality and the erotic are in fact primarily equated with femininity and are specifically linked to the female body, the vulva in particular (e.g. model beds with vulva, the Sumerian sign SAL, ‘woman’), which may become a sign of simultaneous allure and fear, while, unlike other ancient cultures (Greece or Egypt), there are few if any male equivalents and male sexual organs are rarely shown in figurative arts (Bahrani 2002: 56–7). As regards the possible position of servants and/or slaves within the house network, the loci which probably map their activities, that is utility/workrooms and kitchens

(Figs 2.5–9, above), are generally well integrated into the system as a whole (see their relatively low accessibility values), thus suggesting a strong affiliative dimension in the residents-servants interaction. Conclusion The study of social space exemplified by morphological analysis has displayed a great potential in highlighting the basic principles which govern the social, psychological, and power relations among family members and between resident and guests. While network chart analysis has shown that the predominant nonverbal tendency or implicit deixis in use concerns five specific models of space organisation (informal relations, more structured relations, social inequality, social equality and complex social inequality) with the presence of different degrees of social tension and hostile/friendly attitudes, I have then suggested the ideology of inequality-ancestral cult as a general hermeneutic ‘whole’ which accounts for this specific use of space. House sociology is thus analysed in terms of systems of underlying tendency or implicit nonverbal deixis, such systems being variant realisations of a limited number of structural oppositions defined in their relational or as-structure difference. Hence, one can deduce the specific canonical formula (Model 1: linear houses: Model 2, etc.), archetypal of as-structural analysis. But this “whole”, the ideology of inequalityproperty transmission-ancestor’s cult is only a segment of society – it is characteristic of a particular class of society, and is negotiated against our entirely different nonverbal deixis of space use as expressed by psychological techniques.

36

Chapter 3

Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction in Mesopotamian domestic space

The main goal of the chapter is to test the assumption that meaning is the result of the interaction among different nonverbal sign systems on the one hand, and between such systems and the empty grids of language on the other. First, a preliminary analysis of the interaction between the proxemic nonverbal coding of actual houses and other nonverbal sign systems such as house plans and models is carried out in order to understand how meaning is constructed through an evolving chain of correlated nonverbal signs. Secondly, I test the assumption that nonverbal sign systems such as the proxemic spacing tendencies outlined in the previous chapter are the deep structure of language, that is the ancient textual evidence on family sociology, and that such implicit deixis is the basis for both world and linguistic meaning. Moreover, cases in which the textual elaborative power may shape nonverbal signs is also explored. Before analysing the archaeological data, it is necessary to outline some theoretical aspects of meaning as intersemiotic versus heterosemiotic, and to abandon rigid ‘truth conditions’ in semantics, while proposing a more flexible means (‘sufficient semiosis’) to investigate whether ancient written accounts are an appropriate reflection of the nonverbal spatial tendencies.

‘different nonverbal signs not only co-operate in producing a coherent and meaningful world, but also are in conflict with one another’ (2000: 74). Our different perceptual organs have not all the same importance for survival. Touch is essential for deaf and blind people, and with the lack of touch anything might happen without our realising it (Ackerman 1991: 82, cited in Ruthrof 2000: 76). While certain senses give us useful information on some aspects of reality and others provide none, humans have learned to reconcile such fundamental heterogeneity among perceptual readings into cohesion (Ackerman 1991: 14). At a more abstract level, this is well shown, for instance, by Ingarden’s analysis of an ‘ontically heteronomous object’, the literary work (1973). In order to imagine things out of what we read, we must reconcile at a cognitive level different heterogeneous elements such as the physicality of print or sound, the syntax, the mental symbolism, etc. We carry out a Peircean semiotic process whereby each sign achieves further meanings through other signs. In Ruthrof’s view this allows us to imagine a multidimensional world, the work’s ideology and symbolism (2000: 76). If sense interpretations display a conflictual ground, then, it is not surprising that the interaction between sensory readings and verbal semiosis should equally show some dissonance. As shown by Kay and Kempton, we see the same colours but we call them with different words (1984: 65–79). Thus, there is a discordance between the way different semantic frames encapsulate nonverbal realisations of colours. However, the fact that certain colours are not in the vocabulary does not mean that the experience of such colours is barred to our cognition because in many cases broader terms may be employed which hide the actual distinctions (e.g. Japanese ‘blue’, Ackerman 1991: 253). As Ruthrof reminds us, ‘the fact of linguistic coarse-grain coverage of nonverbal experience does not allow the conclusion that the experience itself is also coarse-grained’ (2000: 79). Cultural systems may in fact have a range of nonverbal distinctions which are synthesised verbally. For Ruthrof, to argue the opposite would mean that ‘once we have certain words but not others, the visual messages to our brain are censored by language’; and this is most unlikely for him since ‘cultures function quite happily in spite or because of a certain heterogeneity between nonverbal signs and language’ (2000: 79). Indeed, it is the introduction of new social practices that generates a new vocabulary and new words to represent the new nonverbal construals that constitute the world. These new signals are culture-specific and to some extent heterogeneous elaborations (Kendon 1981).

Sign rapport versus sign conflict While I have presented before the intersemiotic corroboration among nonverbal readings and between nonverbal signals and language as an essential condition for meaning, in real discourse such harmony is hardly present. Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics shows how meaning can be regarded as intersemiotic or heterosemiotic without ‘destroying the expectations of a coherent world’ (2000: 82). While there are profound reasons for the relative heterogeneity of semiosis, he invokes semiotic dissonance as a key feature of the dynamics of sign creation. The theoretical background of this approach draws from both Derrida’s différance as the principle of sign differentiation and Lyotard’s agonistics, the deeply conflictual nature of signals in discourse (Lyotard 1988). While our sensory readings may focus on the same part of reality, they never produce equivalent impressions. This means that each semiotic system produces its own image of the world and the signs responsible for such impressions are heterogeneous. Nor can we consider only one of our sense interpretations as the correct one, rejecting other significations as distortions. Heterogeneity comes about because none of the nonverbal signals, proxemic or others, is a natural, biological process, but such signs are complex cultural interpretations. In semiotic terms, Ruthrof suggests that 37

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Meaning negotiation While questions of truth are relatively less important in the investigation of single words, when sentences and discourse are concerned there is a tendency to verify whether they are truthful or not, that is to link meaning to ‘verification’. Even for sentences which appear to offer a simple truth notion (‘The book is on the desk’) which can be ascertained through observation, any direct explanation of the relation between linguistic meanings and their effects in the world may be misleading. For a corporeal semantics, in fact, we have confused our visual and tactile interpretations with the very facts of reality. This is, however, what the analytical tradition following Bertrand Russell has done by claiming that a meaningful expression must have reference in this limited sense (Ruthrof 2000: 140). The classical positivist verification approach is well represented by Schlick and Tarski for whom a sentence has meaning if one can apply it to reality (Schlick 1963: 352; Tarski 1956). A critique of this method is given by the cognitive linguist Sweetser, that, owing to our variable cognitive structuring of the world, words may have relatively different meanings in different languages (e.g. Latin ‘candidus’ or ‘honest’ for ‘white’, 1990: 5). As convincingly shown by Ruthrof’s approach, truth-conditional theories cannot explain a lot of meaningful language, i.e. complex sentences, metaphorical extensions, or fictional statements, which constitute a large part of linguistic imaginative enterprise. Thus, corporeal semantics shows the urgent need of wider notions of truth (Ruthrof 2000: 143). While the holistic stress of Heidegger’s idea of truth as aletheia or ‘unconcealment’ is at odds with the literal meaning and so starts an interpretive approach to meaning, with poststructuralism and postmodern views truth conditions are progressively rejected (Ruthrof 1997: 230–233; Lucy 1997). However, the question arises of how it is possible to communicate if truth conditions about the world and linguistic meaning are discarded altogether. Traditional views are challenged by Chang who views communication as a negotiation of a ‘conflictual heteroglossia’, while the postmodern trap can be also avoided if meaning is not considered as entirely open (1996; Ruthrof 2000: 144). Likewise, concerns with belief, mood, metaphor, and interpretative complexities do away with the truthconditions of positivist certitude (Davidson 1984).

‘re-production’ but may be ‘problematical’, and in complex social communication truth is ‘troublesome’ to determine (2000: 145–6). This is so because in more ‘playful’ or symbolic discourse there is a broader variability of the nonverbal material attached to words and a stronger imaginative process which ‘unfolds the networks of nonverbal signs’ (Ruthrof 2000: 32). Since social discourse is dominated by complex human relations and their webs of complex meanings, fantasies and the politics of language, truth is not a good checking mechanism of meaning. By contrast, the procedure used to check whether the ‘nonverbally activated language’ of the Mesopotamian archives is an adequate image of their ‘nonverbally construed world’ is Ruthrof’s ‘sufficient semiosis’, a notion borrowed from Leibniz and Peirce (2000: 146). While Peirce views meaning as infinitely open to sign transformations (1974), Leibniz mediates between formal and informal reasoning by establishing that at a certain stage in non-formal reasoning ‘sufficient reason’ has been produced to end the process (1934). For Ruthrof, sufficient reason is a practical device because it allows one to proceed to further arguments, despite logic would not allow for this. On the archaeological level, the kind of nonverbal material used to trigger the linguistic grid is an appropriate, ‘sufficient’ reflection of the nonverbal grasp of our predecessors’ world. Sufficient semiosis, then, is a semiotic procedure whereby words and things are related in the forms of signs. Also any strict equivalence between what is written in the cuneiform evidence and what actually is in the real world of domestic space is abandoned. While in formal and technical family archives sufficient semiosis can be applied strictly to the relevant discourse, in more symbolic and complex texts where the grasp of the world is less strictly constrained, sufficient semiosis can account also for fantasy variations and their textual construals. According to Ruthrof, it is in symbolic discourse which sufficient semiosis shows its full potentials ‘as a replacement for truth’ verification (2000: 147). In fact, the real intentions of the persons described in complex archival transactions are difficult to detect, and although the ‘truth’ of the situation can be hardly defined, nevertheless meaning exchange does take place. Add to this that different types of opacity always play a part in the semantics of a ‘distant’ language such Akkadian. Hence, ancient cuneiform archives are not tested in terms of truth, but through the device of this negotiatory checking mechanism. I imagine a variety of contextual possibilities and settle for practical interpretations. In this way the role of the corporeal in language may be shown in ancient texts, as well as in the relations among different nonverbal sign systems. It is time now to apply this model and check it against the archaeological data.

Corporeal semantics does not completely eliminate the notion of truth since truth does have its importance, though not in the deterministic way shown by formalist views of meaning (Ruthrof 2000: 145). Truth is present in formal systems and mathematics, while it may be misleading for the analysis of complex texts, let alone their elaboration in foreign and ‘distant’ texts such as the Mesopotamian archival material. Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics and its cognitive variants suggest a ‘ladder of usefulness’ whereby the more symbolic the discourse, the less reliable is the truth-verification procedure, and vice versa; while truth applies to formal signification, in technical and juridical discourse truth is important for

Nonverbal sign interactions in Mesopotamian domestic architecture Here I want to show through two examples, namely comparison between house plans drawn on clay tablets and actual houses on the one hand, and between house clay models and actual houses on the other, how 38

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE intersemiotic and heterosemiotic relations work in Mesopotamian domestic space. Comparison is carried out at the level of sign systems: nonverbal readings of house morphologies. I will show why the former example stresses relatively more the intersemiotic rapport, and the latter points mainly to a heterosemiotic relation.

This ratio is ultimately dependent on the brick size of the buildings. Moreover, the floor areas, the accessibility values and the number of rooms of both plans fall as well in the range of the excavated houses of Model 2, although closer to their smaller figures (Table 3.3, b, c). The permeability maps of such plans and Model 2 houses have a similar tree-like morphology (Table 3.1, b, c, and b1, c1) in which the main living rooms 3 (b) and 5 (c), as well as the chapels/family rooms 2 (b) and 3 (c) show the same integration values and orientation of their counterparts in the actual houses (loci 4–6 in b1, and 6–7 in c1).

House plans versus actual houses Tables 3.1–3 show an overall similarity between the morphologies of the drawings of the Akkadian, Ur III and Old Babylonian periods and those of the contemporary excavated houses, thereby showing a prevailing intersemiotic corroboration between signs. This would suggest that the single drawings, though not the projects of these specific houses, can be considered as the typical prototypes of actual houses found in Mesopotamian sites of the period. Since the various elements of the drawings are only approximately drawn to scale, they probably represent sketchy plans of actual houses drawn either by the builder or as part of the record of a business transaction or school idealisations so that students could learn how to reckon areas (Heinrich and Seidl 1967: 45).

As regards Model 3 (social equality among the resident family of the single court house), since in the plan of a tablet from Jokha (Umma) of the Ur III period (Heinrich and Seidl 1967: 26, 32–33) the measures of each room are reported and the various elements of the plan were approximately drawn to scale, it is possible to compare it to the other actual houses found in excavations in early II millennium sites (Table 3.1, d, d1). While accessibility, and number of rooms are well within the standard figures for the actual houses from Mesopotamia, the fact that its floor area is considerably larger than that of the actual houses may suggest that this plan is a project for a particularly well-off family (Table 3.3, d). The permeability map also shows the same morphological features of the actual houses of Model 3: the living rooms 5, 6 and 7 (Table 3.1, d) have the same integration values and orientation of their counterparts 6, 7 and 9 (Table 3.1, d1).

Intersemiotic corroboration between drawings and actual plans is strongly expressed in the following house models (Tables 3.1–3.3). As regards Model 1 houses (nuclear houses), in the Akkadian drawing from Tello (Table 3.1, a), one must first redraw the plan following the ancient measures of each room reported in the tablet (Heinrich and Seidl 1967: 28, 42: one KÙŠ or cubit = 0.50 m). This drawing shares with the Model-1 linear houses (a1) a similar floor area, accessibility value and number of rooms (Table 3.3), and the network charts of both also have the same interior-exterior orientation with a similar integration of the main living room 3, the chapel/Family room 4 and the other loci (Heinrich and Seidl 1967: 28). For Model 2 (more structured nuclear houses), the two Old Babylonian tablets b and c from Tell Ukhaimir (Kiš) should be classed with school exercises, that is, plans to be copied by pupils (Heinrich and Seidl 1967: 26, 37– 38) which, as a common teaching device, would come nearer to representing a fixed norm of the ‘ideal house’ in its essentials. Since their various elements are approximately drawn to scale it is possible to speculate as to their relationship to the actual houses. In fact, the constant factors in a building, namely wall thickness, door widths and maximum roof spans, are in themselves variables, but one can attempt to compare these features with those of structures recovered in excavations. If one applies the archaeological door width of 0.80 m to both plans the maximum roof spans, with the exclusion of the open area, are 3.40 and 2.40 m (room 4, b; room 3, c, respectively) which are figures included in the range of the actual Old Babylonian houses (rooms 6 and 7, b1 and c1: 2.40–3.55 m). Therefore, there appears the same ratio, 0.80:0.80:2.40 (1:1:3) and 0.80:0.80:3.40 (1:1:4.25), for both the houses drawn on the tablets and the actual buildings.

Interesting evidence of Model 4 (social inequality among the resident families of the single court house) is supplied by a tablet found in a sounding in Akkadian Tell Asmar (Hill 1967: 147–48, plate 65; Heinrich and Seidl 1967: 29–31). Two plans drawn on the tablet are clearly variations of a single type (Table 3.2, e, f). Since both drawings seem to be drawn to scale, if a door width of 0.75 m (common to the Akkadian houses of Tell Asmar) and a similar wall thickness (in real houses) are applied to both plans, then one can reckon their respective sizes. Their maximum roof span (except for the central spaces) of about 3.75 m (room 10, plan e, and room 13, plan f) falls within the range calculated for the actual houses of Tell Asmar (loci 9 and 9 in ef1-2: 2.60–4.25 m). Therefore, both the projects and the excavated houses share the same ratio (0.75:0.75:3.75; or 1:1:5). Either floor areas, accessibility values, and number of rooms follow quite closely the standard figures for the actual houses of Model 4 (Table 3.3, e, f). Their network charts also suggest a similar circulation pattern: the main living rooms of both plans and actual houses (Table 3.2, e, f, ef1-2: 8 and 9, 8 and 6, respectively) are more integrated in the system than the secondary residential spaces (7, 8, and 5, 6, respectively), thereby suggesting their controlling power over the remaining residential loci. The fact that such plans belong to the Akkadian period shows that this house prototype may be present at least from that period onward in ancient Mesopotamia. 39

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Table 3.1 Comparison between house plans drawn on clay tablets (Akkadian-Old Babylonian) and actual houses (OB) showing a prevalent intersemiotic rapport. House plans (tablets)

Actual houses

5

6 4

4

3

3

2

2

1

1

Street

Street

a. Akkadian tablet from Tello

a1. House H, TA, Nippur.

5 3

2

4

6

4

2

1

3

1 Street

Street

b. OB tablets from Tell Ukhaimir (Kiš)

b1. No. 5 Quiet Street, III phase, EM, Ur

4

8

3

5

9

10

6

11

7

2

5

6

4 2

1

3

1

Street

Street

c. OB tablets from Tell Ukhaimir (Kiš)

7 3

6 4

5

c1. House I, TB, Nippur

9

6

8

X

7

3

4

5

2

2

1

1

Street Street

d. Ur III tablet from Jokha (Umma)

d1. House K, TB, Nippur

40

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE Table. 3.2 Comparison between house plans drawn on clay tablets (Akkadian-Old Babylonian) and actual houses (OB) showing a prevalent intersemiotic rapport. House plans (tablets)

Actual houses

13 11

12 9

5

9

?

4

7 3

7

10 5

4

6

8

8 11

3

10

2

6 2 1

1

e

Street

Street

e-f1. No. 2 Church Lane, AH, Ur

11

14

10

13

12

9 5

6

7

3

4

8

8

7

9

4

5

6 2

2

3

1

1

Street

Street

f

e-f 2. Bâtiment Central, Sippar e-f. Akkadian tablet from Tell Asmar

The foregoing shows how most of the Mesopotamian house models defined by network chart analysis have their prototypes drawn in cuneiform tablets. In fact, such drawings indicate that at least in some cases the buildings were conceived well in advance of the actual construction and that there were people trained to do the job. This would also match textual evidence for professional builders in the III-II millennium BC (the Akkadian word itinnu, Sumerian šidim), thereby showing intersemiotic corroboration between nonverbal sign systems such as house designs and real houses on the one hand and verbal attestation of professional designers on the other.

insights into their meanings. Given the similar technical use of both sign systems, intersemiotic corroboration between signs prevails over heterogeneity. However, this cannot be completely ruled out for the drawings do not represent actual projects but are simple school sketches or idealisations of actual houses. Hence although the technical nature of both systems does not allow for the notion of truth to be knocked out altogether for it is indispensable for the re-production of such systems, there is no absolute equivalence between what is drawn and what is in reality. Despite intersemiotic rapport prevails, sufficient meanings have thus been produced for communication to occur in a framework whereby one sign system, the drawing, represents only roughly the other.

In terms of sufficient semiosis, the correlation between these two nonverbal sign systems gives interesting 41

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Table 3.3 Figures showing intersemiotic corroboration between house plans drawn on clay tablets (Akkadian-Old Babylonian) and plans of actual houses (OB). House plans (tablets)

Actual houses

size m²

accessibility

loci

Mean size & range m²

79.65

84

6

27.97 (17.12-30.15 )

41.42 (25- 80)

3.71 (2-5)

52.74

56

5

65.92 (42.41-83.90)

123.82 (57–182)

6.92 (5-8)

64.78

88

6

101.09

116

7

71.47 (67.12-87.15)

131.75 (65-230)

7.37 (6-9)

209.9

640

13

139.41 (66.91-269)

410.83 (150-937)

11.44 (8-17)

f. T. Asmar 169.85 (Akkadian)

610

14

139.41 (66.91-269)

410.83 (150-937)

11.44 (8-17)

Model 1 a.Tello (Akkadian) Model 2 b. Kiš (OB) c. Kiš (OB) Model 3 d. Umma (Ur III) Model 4 e. T. Asmar (Akkadian)

Terracotta house models versus actual houses The issue of the extent to which terracotta house models reproduce real architecture and the reasons why they do so is addressed here. Such objects are by no means models intended to be faithfully reproduced by the builders in actual constructions but evoke only vaguely actual architecture (Bretschneider 1991: 169). Since the material from Mesopotamia itself is scarce, example of models from neighbouring regions are considered here in connection to their actual counterparts. There is a shift through time westwards, with Babylonia and Assyria being the main sources for the third millennium, while Syria, the Levant and Anatolia are representative for the second millennium, and Palestine and East Mediterranean for the first millennium BC respectively (Muller 1996:39-53).

Mean accessibility & range

Mean loci & range

the residential quarter of Akkadian Nuzi (from house a1, locus 3, Starr 1937: 439, PL. 113 A; Starr: 1939: 50–51) whose bottom may represent a house crowned by merlons, and a little cupboard (b) possibly from Middle Elamite Elam. Although the battlements along the edge of the roof as well as the rafters of a resemble architectural features, the practical functions of such objects and their simplification suggest an overall dissonance with contemporary domestic architecture which is characterised by the irregular disposition of rooms around the courtyard (a1). As regards the second group of models, I focus on those used by archaeologists to reconstruct actual houses in order to assess the reliability of such parallelism. The simple volume of the models from Arad (c) would not represent the house as a whole but only its main unit (Amiran 1978: 52–3), and it is thus employed to reconstruct the main unit of the actual houses, thereby bypassing the problem that the actual houses are composed of multiple cells (c1). Moreover, the door frames of the models are far from realistic and only vaguely evoke the real ones. Thus, semiotic heterogeneity between models and actual plans prevails here over intersemiotic corroboration. As for the EDIII/Akkadian box-like model

Two different kinds of evidence are investigated: one group which is less likely to reflect actual architecture and a second series which is used more directly to infer similarities with real buildings (Tables 3.4–3.5: a-b, and cf, respectively). In the latter series and when possible the accessibility values and number of rooms of the models are compared to those of actual houses, while the floor area is excluded as the models are not drawn to scale. The first series comprehends a house-shaped offering stand (a) from 42

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE Table 3.4 Examples showing heterosemiotic linkage between house clay models and actual houses excavated archaeologically. House clay models

Actual houses

2

3 1 Street

a. Support from Akkadian Nuzi

b.Cupboard (Elam)

a1 Akkadian House, Nuzi

2 1

1

3

Street

Street

c. Model from Tell Arad

c1. House from Arad (main unit in bold)

6

5 3

4 2

1 Street

9

7

6

5

3

4

8

d1. Maison Rouge, Mari

2 1 Street

d. Model from Mari

d2. House from Tell Melebiya

43

d3. House from Tell Bdēri

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Table 3.5 Examples showing heterosemiotic linkage between house clay models and actual houses excavated archaeologically.

House clay models

Actual houses

4 3

X

2

2

1 Street

1

e1. House from Rumeilah

Street

2

3

e. ‘Maison V’, Emar 1 Street

e2. House from Emar 4 3 2 1 Street

f. ‘Tower J’ from Emar

g. Middle Assyrian tower model from Shemshara

from Mari (d) found in a votive deposit near the ‘Maison Rouge’, its circular plan with surrounding walls is composed of nine loci round the central space (Parrot 1967: 293–306). In the absence of a symbolic decoration, archaeologists tend to interpret the object as a model of a private house. To test such assumption, comparison with contemporary actual houses from Syria, namely the ‘Maison Rouge’ from Mari on the middle-Euphrates (d1) and houses from Tell Melebiya (d2) and Tell Bdēri (d3) in north-eastern Syria (Margueron 1996: 24–32; Pfälzner 1996: 117–127; Lebeau 1996: 129–136), shows interesting evidence as to the relationship between models and real architecture of the time. Although its circular plan has no parallels with actual contemporary architecture, this may not undermine its architectural meaning, for it is the result of the technical choice of

g1. House from Nuzi

using the potter’s wheel. If the circular plan is redrawn into the usual square shape, the plan resembles the excavated houses of the central courtyard type and its accessibility value (228) and number of rooms (9) fall within the range of the actual houses from Syria (mean accessibility: 160.6, range: 84–264; mean number of rooms: 7.6, range: 6–10) and south Mesopotamia (see Table 3.3, Model 3). However, relevant differences between the model and the actual houses are also found. Although the network chart of the model and those of the actual houses share a general tree-like shape suggesting the sociology of equality of Model-3 houses, the circulation network of the model is somewhat idealised with its symmetric triplication of the living room-service room suite. Moreover, while for Margueron the central space of the model may have a mobile roofing which 44

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE resembles the possible clerestory of actual houses (Margueron 1984: 33–5; 1993: 381–313; 1996: 24–32), the presence of drains in real houses from Syria suggests that these have an open space. Hence, though some intersemiotic corroboration is present in this example, this is nonetheless limited to specific features, while a general dissonance seems to predominate.

from Basmosian and Shemshara in the Rania plain near Kirkuk of the Middle Assyrian period (g). In particular, ‘Tower J’ (f) from a house in Emar displays a libation conduit, while the staged tower decorated with ibex protoms from the level V temple of Shemshara (g) is probably used as a stand for ritual activities. If the presence of realist features is limited to minor details (e.g. windows’ realistic frames), both types show a manifest symbolic function which suggests dissonance with contemporary actual architecture. Contemporary houses from the Syrian Euphrates do not point to a tower-like structure (e2), and Mitannian/Middle Assyrian domestic architecture from Assur and Nuzi (g1) is influenced by palatial architecture with a widespread presence of courtyards and receptions rooms and very little in the kind of a vertical development (Starr 1937: pl. 13). To my knowledge, there is in fact possibly no evidence both in Mesopotamia and in the neighbouring regions of fortified houses. Conversely, some tower models from Mumbaqa and Emar may resemble real temple architecture since such sites are characterised by the presence of temples in antis (Margueron 1983: 180– 181, Figs. 3 and 4).

For high-chamber models of the late II millennium BC (Margueron 1976), their prototype is traced in models from the Assyrian capital Assur. This series (40 × 40 cm) originates mainly from private houses from sites in the Syrian Middle Euphrates (Table 3.5, e, e2, Meskéné/Emar, and e1, Rumeilah; see also Tell Kannâs, Habuba Kabira, Hadidi, and Sweyhat), thereby allowing direct comparison between the two sign systems. Despite such models are used by archaeologists to reconstruct the actual houses of the period, a general dissonance with the real house plans suggests that models are not the miniature of the life size homes. While Margueron’s reconstruction of two-story terrace houses is strongly biased by these models (Margueron 1983: 177, 182, Fig. 5), the archaeological plans available from Emar (e2) suggest a linear planning with a forecourt (see presence of a drain and a bread oven) and two or more chambers on its sides (e.g. EH houses at Ur). The same heterogeneity can be seen between such models (e) and the real houses from Rumeilah (e1) whose plans are of the typical linear type (Masuda 1983: 157, Plates I-II). Moreover, dissonance is also suggested by the fact that while both sites have produced the same type of house models, the plans and network charts of the real houses from Rumeilah are more complex than the Emar ones (e1 and e2, respectively). While the realism of these models is generally limited to single details (e.g. the cross window with balustrade; fifth wheel of the door; windows), the presence of internal cross-walls which may hint at a second story or internal spatial divisions is conversely only a technical device for strengthening the cohesion of the object since internal doorways are not reproduced. Similarly, specific ceramic decoration such as cordons, more typical of jars, are used on the models to mask junctures and their possible reference to actual architecture is thus of secondary importance. These models are conversely conceived as symbolic and synthetic images of the actual buildings, possibly used as a remainder of the house as a whole in specific domestic ritual occasions. While the Emar models are domestic altars on which offerings were placed for the worship of the household gods (Margueron 1983: 177), a similar function may be also hypothesised for the Rumeilah models whose provenance near stone altars points to domestic cult (Masuda 1983: 155). Similar stepped altars (‘Little clay house’, or ‘Snake House’), which originate from the sanctum of the Akkadian Ištar Temple at Assur, also have a ritual significance (Masuda 1983: 154).

In conclusion, heterogeneity between different nonverbal sign systems plays here an important role in the overall picture of semiosis. The house models are generally considered to reflect the domestic architecture of the place where they are recovered and the period to which they belong. The problems raised by the interpretation of such objects are always viewed in architectural terms, but given their terracotta material, additional responses can be found in the dynamics of ceramic production. In fact, though the ceramist may put distinctive marks of the architecture of the region, he is far from pretending to reproduce the real houses in every detail. The models are mainly utilitarian or ritual objects conceived as symbolic evocation of the house, shelter of the lineage, and endowed only secondarily with architectural meaning. Meaning as heterosemiotic plays here a fundamental role for each sign system produces a different picture of the world without the expectation of a coherent world being destroyed. This is possible because neither the models nor the actual houses are a natural, biologically automated process. Both readings are complex cultural interpretations, significations made up of different bits of texts. As a sign system, there is no doubt as to the attractiveness of the symbolic economy of such models as they offer the enormous advantages in summing up, surveying and manipulating the nonverbal readings of the actual environment. And they do so because they are symbols endowed with a practical functions: in being employed during the cult of dead kin which identifies the family as part of a diachronic reality, linking the living with their ancestors, they necessarily have to symbolise the house in its essentials. Meaning is thus here the outcome of the conflictual interaction of different nonverbal sign systems that cannot be studied in isolation (as-structure).

As regards tower-like models, there are two main types: the towers with a bossed crowning and horned edge originating also from the Syrian Middle Euphrates (f) and the staged towers with battlements 45

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING mixture. It is true that at different stages in Mesopotamian history and in different cities different sizes of bricks were used, but we may find in one and the same period variations of a less serious sort (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 19). If intersemiotic translation is carried out, there appears to be little propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. Within the internal level of Mesopotamian culture, little propositional opacity between the word SIG4.AL.ÙR.RA and its referential, nonverbal meanings (actual brick size) is present, owing to the homologous cultural ways in which communities from different Mesopotamian cities fill the verbal/numerical schemata (textual sizes) with the nonverbal (actual sizes). Consequently, also the directionality of language shows determinacy with a relatively small range of nonverbal readings apt to fill the linguistic schemata (a determined size). In technical discourse there is a limited spectrum of variation of what sort of nonverbal material is brought to bear on technical words such as SIG4.AL.ÙR.RA and the variety of nonverbal readings are thus curtailed to those that are immediately relevant. On the cross-cultural level, also modal and semiotic opacity play a limited role here for, though we have different metrical systems in Mesopotamia and they all differ from ours, we have here a clear understanding of the contextual associations between the technical term and its nonverbal filling. Thus, we face relatively little difficulties here when we try to interpret and so (re)construct their hidden cultural deixis, and the implied stance of the technical text has a reduced modal opacity. Also the technical nature of the text here reduces semiotic opacity, that is the inherent vagueness resulting from the difficulties of reconstructing the general cultural frame of an ancient language, and especially a foreign one, occurs.

Static interactions between verbal and nonverbal signs The degree of intersemiotic versus heterosemiotic relations is examined first in the relations between the ancient designations of different parts of the house and the spatial, nonverbal sign systems which represents its deep structure, and secondly in the relations between house omens and their actual spatial realisations. Two stages of analysis are carried out through the ‘sufficient semiosis’ checking mechanism: intersemiotic translation or transmutation, that is an interpretation of ancient verbal signs by means of signs of nonverbal sign systems (spatial patterns of activity area analysis); consequent verification of various degrees of propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. The house in words and in practice The Old Babylonian house and its structure referred to in ancient textual sources is compared against that reconstructed archaeologically by means of nonverbal sign systems such as activity area patterns. The main documents are represented by commercial and legal texts such as inheritance ones, gifts, dowries, house sales, and rentals. Despite the interpretation of such texts may be considerably hampered by the problematical nature of Mesopotamian terminology, textual information is very important for the comprehension of the way Mesopotamian people conceived the nature of the house. As shown by Table 3.6, textual evidence displays an increasingly sharper dissonance or heterosemiotic relation (propositional, modal and semiotic opacity) with its archaeological nonverbal referent from technical/formal terms referring to brick and house size, city lots and their prices, to the social and symbolic designations of the house loci and the concept of ‘house’. These latter definitions have a relatively stronger social and symbolic character, thus synthesising and elaborating a relatively broader range of different meanings. This pattern matches the model of corporeal semantics whereby in symbolic discourse there is a stronger imaginative elaboration of the nonverbal material attached to words.

It is then possible to examine the mathematical problem concerning the number of bricks required to build a house of a given area, assuming that brickwork takes up one third of the floorspace. Its result will be then compared to a real estimate for actual houses and house plans drawn on clay tablets thereby testing the reliability of such theoretical method (Table 3.7). Bricks are reckoned in groups of 720, the brick-sar, while the nalbanum is considered as the number of brick-sar in a volume-sar. Since each size of brick has a specific nalbanum, one can easily estimate the number of bricks required for a wall through a formula (bricks = length × width × height × nalbanum/coefficient of a wall). However, an Old Babylonian fragment from the British Museum (BM 96957) shows a more sophisticated method which accounts for the presence of mortar too. As shown in Table 3.7, the method and solution is: 1/3 × area of house × height = volume of walls in nindan³. The wall coefficient (see Old Babylonian coefficient list A 3553, Kilmer 1960: Text A, 41) is 5/6 of the expected nalbanum of Type 2 bricks (7;12). As Type 2 is 5 fingers thick, this implies that only 5/6 of the volume of a wall is brick, and that the rest is mortar (Robson 1996: 189).

For the more technical and formal discourse, the recorded sizes of bricks show an example of corroboration or intersemiotic relation between verbal and nonverbal sign systems with consequent small propositional, modal and semiotic opacity (Table 3.6 Mathematical text, and Table 3.7). Old Babylonian mathematical texts of quantity surveying reporting brick sizes for house construction are compared to actual architecture to assess their reliability (Robson 1996: 181–90; Powell 1982: 119; Nemet-Nejat 1993: 27–55, 87–89). The commonest house type is the rectangular unbaked brick, SIG4.AL.ÙR.RA / agurrum (zarin) (Powell’s Type 2). As shown in Table 3.7, the size of this type of brick matches with the actual bricks found in excavations from different Mesopotamian sites (Ur, Nippur and Larsa) in which there is only a minor variability, due to wooden moulds used, the consistency of the raw clay, a different proportion of water in the 46

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE

Table 3.6 Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction in cuneiform definitions of urban sectors showing increasingly stronger dissonance and opacity from technical to social discourse. Nonverbal meaning Archaeological evidence

Verbal meaning Cuneiform definitions/ figures

Mathematical text

see Table 3.7

House sizes

Figures from 182 inheritances: 47% 36–108 m² 18% < 36 m² ; 18% 216–500 m² 17% 108–216 m²

Lower dissonance City lots

Translated Meaning

House

É-DÙ-A or bītum epšum

House fragment

É-BUR-BAL, É-ŠUB-BA

unconstructed lot, range: 20–700 m²

É-KISLAЬ range: 18–720 m²

Ruins

Ur: baked brick Sip./Lar. less b. b. Nippur: mud brick house fragment

Empty lots

unconstructed lot

Ur = 36 shekels silver per 36 m² Sippar/Larsa = 24 shekels/36 m² Nippur = 15 shekels/36 m² 2–4 shekels/36 m² (É-BUR-BAL) 1–4 shekels/36 m² (É-ŠUB-BA) 1 shekel/36 m², Dilbat (É-KISLAЬ) 3 shekels/36 m², Sippar (É-ŠUB-BA) 30 shekels/36 m², Larsa (storage)

Building types

single loci archaeologically identified as shops or storehouses

É-KISLAЬ, maškanum, in bīt maškanim É-G̃Á-NUN, G̃Á-NUN, ganūnum, ARAЬ4 (É.UŠ.GÍD.DA) araΪΪum, ašlukkatum

‘Farmyard, Storehouse/ storeroom’ ‘Storehouse/storeroom, pantry’ ‘Storehouse/storeroom, pantry’

House loci

mainly multipurpose

see Table 3.8

function-specific definitions

City lot prices Houses

“House”

Sumerian É, Akkadian bītum

Stronger dissonance

47

a constructed lot, house loci, a built lot with a fence; neglected lot, ruin without wooden roof but with its standing walls; unconstructed lot (or neglected lot);

Mesopotamian house (CAD B) 1. house, dwelling place, shelter, temple, palace; 2. manor, estate, encampment; 3. room, cabin of a boat, tomb; 4. container, repository, housing; 5. place, plot, area, region; 6. household, family, royal house; 7. estate, aggregate of property of all kinds.

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Table 3.7 Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction in technical discourse: textual calculations of house number of bricks showing intersemiotic corroboration and small semiotic/modal/propositional opacity between different sign systems. Nonverbal meaning

Verbal meaning

Mathematical text Type 2 unbaked bricks (finger)

SIG4.AL.ÙR.RA 15 × 10 × 5 m 5 3.4 1.6 0.33 2½ 6 288

Total area (sar) Floor area (sar) Total wall area (sar) Wall proportion of total area House height (nindan) Wall coefficient (Type 2 bricks) Number of bricks (brick-sar) House plans Total area (sar) Total wall area (sar) Proportion of total area Area of external walls (sar) Proportion of total area Actual houses Type 2 bricks (unbaked) Total area (sar) Floor area (sar) Total wall area Proportion of total area Area of external walls (sar) Proportion of total area *House height (nindan) Wall coefficient Number of bricks (brick-sar)

No. 10 No. 14 (Ur III, Umma) (OB Kiš) 5;12 30 4;05 2;16 40 2;01 40 0.44 0.50 1;25 1;20 40 0.27 0.33 No. 3 Gay St. (OB Ur) 5.6 × 10.6 × 5 4 2.08 1.9 0.47 1.02 0.25 1.3 6 177

House D (OB Nippur) 15.6 ×10 × 5 3.3 1.8 1.5 0.45 0.91 0.27 1.3 6 140

B27 (OB Larsa) 15 × 10.4 × 5 m 14 9.52 4.48 0.35 3.5 0.24 1.3 6 419

* The average height of the actual houses is reckoned on the grounds of Woolley’s reconstruction of the well-preserved No. 3 Gay Street (EM site, Ur) whose walls were still standing at 3 metres and in which the presence of brick stairways would indicate the existence of an upper storey (1976: plate 22).

Mesopotamian linear measures and their modern metric equivalents: Brick-sar = 720 bricks. ŠU.SI = ubānum ‘finger’ = ca. 1.6 cm. KÙŠ = ammatum ‘cubit’ = ca. 0.50 m. GAR (= nindanum? nindakkum?) = ca. 6 m.

While in comparison to contemporary house plans drawn on clay tablets it seems that this mathematical text underestimates the area of the house reserved for the walls (a half of the total area and not a third), the figures reported in the texts match those calculated for the actual houses from different Mesopotamian sites of the OB period whose walls are a third of the total area (Table 3.7, House plans, Actual houses). If intersemiotic translation is carried out, then there appears to be little propositional opacity and modal and semiotic opacity. Within the

internal level of Mesopotamian culture, little propositional opacity between the quantity surveying method applied in the text and its referential, nonverbal meanings (actual brick number and wall volume) is present, owing to the homologous cultural ways in which communities from different Mesopotamian cities fill the verbal/numerical schemata (textual number of bricks) with the nonverbal (actual number). Consequently the directionality of language expresses determinacy with a relatively small range of nonverbal readings apt to fill the 48

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE linguistic schemata (a determined size). Importantly, the dissonance between house drawings and mathematical texts may be possibly explained by the relatively less technical and more symbolic nature of such plans which are only sketchy representations of actual architecture. On the cross-cultural level, also modal and semiotic opacity plays a limited role here for, though our quantity surveying methods differ from that of the Mesopotamians, we have a clear understanding of the contextual associations between their mathematical procedures and the nonverbal fillings, and this due to the technical character of discourse analysed here. Thus, the above mathematical texts close the gap between the theory of the mathematical texts and the practice of quantity surveying, by including data for real building construction. Despite there is still no direct evidence that such methods were actually used by trained scribes, it is difficult to imagine why these problems were taught in the Ur III and Old Babylonian scribal schools and how large-scale building projects could be executed without them.

semantic field hinting at propositional, modal and semiotic opacity, the designations of É-BUR-BAL/ÉŠUB-BA (‘neglected lot, ruin’) show a tighter connections with their nonverbal readings detected archaeologically. Within Mesopotamian culture, the designations É-BUR-BAL/É-ŠUB-BA are directly filled by nonverbal readings of ruined city blocks detected archaeologically. These designations thus refers directly to restricted nonverbal contents which reduces propositional blur, while on the on a cross-cultural level our nonverbal and perceptual reconstruction of ruined lots and that of the Mesopotamians are very much alike thus showing also small modal and semiotic opacity. Conversely, within the internal level of Mesopotamian culture, a relatively broader semantic field with propositional, modal and semiotic opacity is present for the designation of house-property É-DÙ-A, bītum epšum (‘constructed lot’) which may also indicate the individual loci of the house. Stones’s translation for É-DÙ-A as ‘roofed floor space’, with unroofed areas such as courtyards and walls excluded from the measurement (1981: 20), is flawed. In fact, the courtyard and other spaces held in common by the family are often included in the texts (Brusasco 2000: 129, and here below), and ÉDÙ-A property may consist also of É-KISLAЬ plot (see inheritance document from Isin, Kalla 1996: 248), or ÉDÙ-A ki-ki-su-um is a ‘constructed house plot surrounded with a reed fence’ (contracts from Babylon, Klengel 1983: 8). Thus, this flexible semantic coverage would indicate that the linguistic re-elaboration of nonverbal readings may generate a certain degree of propositional opacity and some indeterminacy within Mesopotamian culture; on the cross-cultural level modal and semiotic opacity is not reduced either, because we are not sure of the contextual uses of this designation and share only to a limited extent the Mesopotamians’ perception of ‘constructed lot’. Moreover, the same kinds of opacity applies to É-KISLAЬ (unconstructed lot’ or ‘neglected lot’, and ‘farmyard, storehouse’) which is a generic term since it can also stand for É-KI-ŠUB-BA and É-BUR-BAL (‘neglected lot’), probably a North Babylonian variant (see burubalû in CAD B), or when it appears in a rental contract indicates a storeroom (Charpin 1980). When the expression indicates simply unbuilt areas it correlates with its archaeological, nonverbal referent: the floor areas reported in the texts for É-KISLAЬ city lots range between 18 and 720 sq. m, a figure which matches that of the empty lots in archaeological quarters (e.g. AH and EM at Ur, TA and TB at Nippur, etc.) (Charpin 1980: 163–65). On the cross-cultural level, though our nonverbal and perceptual reconstruction of unconstructed lots and that of the Mesopotamians may be similar, we are not sure of the other contextual uses of this broad term, thus having also modal and semiotic opacity.

Likewise, comparison between house sizes recorded in inheritance documents and the figures calculated for the actual houses shows corroboration or intersemiotic relation between verbal and nonverbal sign systems with small propositional, modal and semiotic and opacity (Table 3.6, House sizes). The 182 inheritance documents available register the individual shares of the heirs and are evenly distributed among North Babylonia (54 from Sippar, 6 from Kiš, 2 from Dilbat), Middle Babylonia (56 from Nippur, 4 from Isin), and South Babylonia (28 from Ur, 21 from Larsa, 6 from Kutalla) (Kalla 1996: 249). Table 3.7 shows that if intersemiotic translation is applied, then the figures from textual sources generally match with those reckoned for the actual houses, and with the AH site at Ur in particular (Henrickson 1981: 53 and fig. 11). The biggest houses which may reach up to 500 sq. m. are reported only for provincial districts on the outskirts of the big centres (Kalla 1996: 249–50). Within the internal level of Mesopotamian culture, propositional opacity is reduced owing to the extremely technical nature of the information provided by the texts; consequently, also the directionality of language shows the maximum determinacy and the minimum underdetermination. On the cross-cultural level, also modal and semiotic opacity are limited because there is not a relevant difference between the size range of contemporary houses and that of Mesopotamia; what differs is the distribution of such sizes, although the figures for contemporary architecture are not available to me. As for the compound expressions in connection with É and bītum (‘house’ see below), three designations of urban city lots are recorded in purchase documents (Table 3.6, City lots) (from Babylon, Klengel 1983: 17– 18; Edzard 1970: 22–23). While É-DÙ-A (‘constructed lot’, ‘house loci’, ‘constructed lot with a fence’) and ÉKISLAЬ (‘unconstructed lot’ or ‘neglected lot’, and see below ‘farmyard, storehouse’) have a relatively broader

Comparison between city lot prices recorded in Old Babylonian contracts and the archaeologically estimated values of actual lots shows an intersemiotic relation with a consequent limited propositional opacity, but some 49

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING modal and semiotic opacity (Table 3.6, City lot prices). As regards the É-DÙ-A ‘constructed lots’ or ‘houses’, the prices recorded in the textual sources and the archaeologically estimated values of actual houses shows strong intersemiotic corroboration. A normal price for “DÙ-A” type of city lots was in between 10 and 30 shekels of silver per 36 m², while a lower price may indicate that wooden parts had been taken out. If the extreme price values are not considered, the highest mean values are reported for Ur where houses are generally more costly, while middle prices are attested in Sippar and Larsa, and the cheapest prices can be found in Nippur (Kalla 1996: 250; Koshurnikov 1996: 257–60). If intersemiotic translation or transmutation is carried out, the textual figures can be explained. In fact, at Ur, the widespread employment of baked bricks (both for the foundations, the external walls and the courtyard walls) shows the high profile of such residential areas in which the highest prizes are reported, while the medium of Sippar/Larsa and the low prices of Nippur are explained respectively by the mere presence at the base of the walls of a sub-structure of baked bricks and the extensive use of mud bricks. Although house size, presence of an upper storey, wooden features (doors, bolts, etc., are mentioned in contracts as indicators of price increase), state of repair (e.g. É-LIBIR, ‘old house’, and É-GIBIL, ‘new house’), location, and design by a professional builder (ŠIDIM, itinnu for whom the Hammurapi Law Code §228 has fixed a pay of 2 shekels of silver per 36 sq. m), are also indicators of house prices, it is only the size and the presence of stairways that can be assessed archaeologically. With respect to Sippar, Larsa and Nippur, the larger size of the Ur houses and their higher percentage of upper storeys would also account for their higher prices. Therefore, at the level of Mesopotamian culture, propositional opacity is reduced here owing to the extremely technical nature of the information provided by the texts (prizes); also the directionality of language expresses a great determinacy with a very restricted range of nonverbal readings (types of materials employed) apt to fill the linguistic/numerical schemata. On the cross-cultural level, however, there is some modal and semiotic opacity for not only are we unable to determine the possible influence on prizes of the remaining material factors (e.g. house position, presence of wooden features, etc.) but there is also a sharp discrepancy between our contemporary prize variability and that of Mesopotamians. Housing and building conditions vary enormously cross-culturally, and prices are today influenced by different economic and cultural factors with respect to ancient Mesopotamia. The substitution of the notion of estate, a system composed by a sparse landscape of groups of free-standing buildings arranged into relatively segregated regions, for that of integrated streets (such as that of Mesopotamian quarters) as the central organising concept encapsulates this transformation (Hillier and Hanson 1984: 28). Since value and prestige are invested today in estates rather than in central areas there is a cultural shift with respect to Mesopotamia where central districts housed relatively wealthier families (e.g. the central EM and AH quarters

at Ur). Thus, it is difficult here to interpret and so reconstruct Mesopotamian implicit deixis behind value figures and the implied deictic modality of the technical text has a stronger modal and semiotic opacity. Moreover, É-BUR-BAL or É-ŠUB-BA (‘ruined lot’) and É-KISLAЬ (‘empty lot’) types are obviously considerably cheaper than the É-DÙ-A constructed lot, except when É-KISLAЬ refers to a “a store/storage area” (30 shekels of silver per 36 m², at Larsa). Probably, storage space was here in large demand since it was more costly than house space (24 shekels per 36 m²). Both houses in ruins and empty areas such as streets or squares are attested archaeologically and obviously such areas are less costly than the constructed lots. The textual values can thus be taken as the linguistic/numerical manifestations of actual lot values. While our understanding of ‘neglected lot’, ‘empty lot’ would obviously fit with Mesopotamian price variability (also contemporary empty lots or ruins are clearly less costly than houses), some modal and semiotic opacity are present for ‘storage space’ which is at present generally less costly than real estate. An increasing propositional, modal and semiotic opacity is shown by the designations of building types which show the linguistic power of re-elaborating nonverbal readings (Table 3.6, Building types). The words É-G̃Á-NUN and (É.UŠ.GÍD.DA) araΪΪum, ašlukkatum, ARAЬ4 ‘Storehouse/storeroom, pantry’ refer in some cases to a locus in the house (e.g. purchase contract from Sippar, BE 6/1, 63: 1–2, it is a locus near a domestic shrine), while in others (e.g. inheritance text from Ur UET 5, 108: 7) indicates a ganūnum storehouse of 342 sq. m located in the city outskirts (Kalla 1996: 248). Intersemiotic translation or transmutation shows that either single storehouses or storerooms retrieved archaeologically can be taken to represent the filling of such linguistic definitions (see storehouses in Bazaar Alley, AH, Ur; and storerooms and service loci within houses, chapter 3). These designations show a higher degree of propositional opacity, for they have a relatively broader semantic field, namely some indeterminacy with a broader range of nonverbal readings processed by language. On the cross-cultural level, modal and semiotic opacity cannot be ruled out here for contemporary storehouses and storerooms have a different spatial organisation from that of their Mesopotamian counterparts. Likewise, É-AN-ZA-GÀR and É-KAR-RA, a tower dimtum, or a tower-like, fortified house in a residential quarter, exhibit some modal and semiotic opacity. Judging from an inheritance document from Sippar (Kalla 1996: 248) in which only a small surface of 72 sq. m. is divided and this borders with simple houses, the second possibility is more likely. This meaning is also shown at Ur by the word É-KAR-RA (Figulla and Martin 1953: UET 5, 108) ‘kārum house’ or ‘house in the kārum or in the harbour district’. Intersemiotic analysis shows dissonance here for, to my knowledge, no towers and/or tower-like houses are excavated (except perhaps at Tell alFakkhar and Sabi Abyadh, Mitanni and Middle Assyrian Periods), and also in the Assyrian trade colony of Kaniš the houses are mainly of the courtyard type (Bittel 1983: 60). 50

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE While within Mesopotamian culture propositional opacity may be relatively limited, for such designations probably have a relatively specific spatial referent for the Mesopotamians, on the cross-cultural level there is modal and semiotic opacity since their spatial referent is unclear to us.

such loci to give them meaning (Table 3.6, House loci, and Table 3.8). Overall, intersemiotic translation shows a higher degree of opacity for the more social/symbolic dimension of discourse. While the designations for taskspecific loci such as ‘sealed room’ (archive room), ‘storeroom’, ‘stairway’, shows a relatively more reduced opacity, the designations of multifunctional spaces (‘kitchen’, ‘entrance way’, ‘living room’, ‘main living room/reception room’, lobby, ‘chapel’ and ‘courtyard’) evidence a stronger heterosemiotic rapport between signs and consequent propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. Only the few task-specific loci identified archaeologically, namely the ‘sealed room’ (archive room), the ‘storeroom’ and the ‘stairway’ are evidently filled with a limited and very precise referential and nonverbal content, that is the activities of storing various items, and of mounting to the upper storey. On the axis of the directionality of language, there is little indeterminacy for one curtails for the latter words the variety of nonverbal readings to those that are immediately relevant and stops the imaginative chain at the minimum of semantic agreement. On the crosscultural level, though we share some of the nonverbal, perceptual world related to such activities (the idea of stairwell, storage), there is nonetheless some modal and semiotic opacity as regards the way of storing familial archives: contemporary society is certainly more segmented than Mesopotamia and valuable documents are stored in specialised institutional settings. Thus, owing to the relatively more symbolic connotation of such a designation we face relatively more difficulties here when we try to interpret and so reconstruct cultural deixis behind the designation for É-KIŠIB-BA (‘sealed storeroom’), especially in its implicit and concealed forms, while the implicit deixis of more technical definitions such as ‘storeroom’ and ‘stairwell’ is more easily detectable thus reducing modal and semiotic opacity.

As for the definitions of the house sectors, inheritance documents (UET 5, 104, from Ur, PBS 8/2, 169+ ARN 23 from Nippur, and CT 8, 4a from Sippar, Kalla 1996: 250–52) show the same division of the house into three main distinct areas identified archaeologically (see above houses from Ur, Sippar/Tell ed-Dēr, Larsa), namely the chapel suite (É-PA(4)-PAЬ, papāΪum), the service sector (an adjoining part É-DA, edakkum) and the additional residential units (É-KI-TUŠ, šubtum). However, this interpretation would contradict the ethnocentric one whereby the É-GAL (ekallum) is identified with a public reception locus located in the chapel suite, while the residential unit É-KI-TUŠ (šubtum) would be composed of several rooms mainly located on the first floor like in the traditional house from Iraq (Kalla 1996: 252; Nippa 1991). While the nonverbal readings of activities carried out in the É-GAL (ekallum) point to a mingle of reception (see special thickness of its walls, Heinrich and Seidl 1968) and residential functions (see presence of a fireplace, coarse ware, etc.) thus allowing our interpretation of the word as ‘main living room/reception room’, there are other residential loci, probably to be identified with É-KI-TUŠ (šubtum), ‘living/residential room’, which lack the reception aspect. Though living rooms may be added on the upper floor in the course of the family history (e.g. when a son marries, if no room is available), it is clear that many loci of the house are uncovered (part of the chapel, kitchen, and entrance) and this would hardly allow the reproduction on the upper floor of the series of the ground floor loci (like the Arab house). Intersemiotic translation or transmutation thus suggests an intersemiotic relation between verbal and nonverbal/archaeological subdivisions of domestic architecture and a relatively small propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. Owing to the similar cultural ways in which communities from different Mesopotamian cities fill the verbal schemata (written subdivisions) with the nonverbal (actual architectural configurations) there is little propositional opacity, small indeterminacy with a relatively limited range of nonverbal readings (a determined spatial organisation) apt to fill the linguistic schemata. On the cross-cultural level, we also face relatively little difficulties here when we try to interpret and so reconstruct the cultural deixis or the nonverbal code filling these three verbal designations, thus showing how the deictic aspect of the technical text has a reduced modal and semiotic opacity.

As for the multifunctional loci (chapel, main living rooms, etc.), if the nonverbal reconstruction of activities are brought to bear on their linguistic designations one immediately notices a surplus of meanings which are synthesised by language, thus providing a limited semantic coverage. While most of the loci are multifunctional, the cuneiform designations generally refer only to the main characterising function of the loci, leaving aside the additional functions detected nonverbally. This may due here to the relatively more symbolic nature of discourse referring to these designations with respect to designation of storeroom and stairway. The former group thus shows a broader spectrum of variation of what sort of nonverbal material is processed by language, while the technical emphasis of ‘storeroom’ and ‘stairwell’ points to the opposite. There is consequently a shift towards increased propositional, modal and semiotic opacity from the more technical terms to the more social/symbolic ones. For example, although both words to designate the kitchen, É-MUЬALDIM, ‘house of the cook’, and É-IM.ŠU.RIN.NA, ‘house of

As regards the designations of the single loci in inheritance documents from Ur, Nippur, Sippar, Kutalla, and Larsa, the archaeological reconstruction of activity areas and room functions represents the nonverbal readings of ancient domestic space which are to be brought to bear on the empty linguistics definitions of 51

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Table 3.8 Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction for the cuneiform definitions of house loci showing increasingly heterosemiotic relations and propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. Nonverbal meaning Archaeologically identified loci

Verbal meaning Cuneiform definitions

Translated Meaning

Storeroom: monofunctional locus for long-term storage of ordinary goods

(É-) G̃Á-NUN(-NA) (ganūnum)

‘Storeroom’

Archive room: monofunctional locus for the storing of important documents

É-KIŠIB-BA (bīt kunukkim)

‘Sealed storeroom’

Stairwell: monofunctional locus for access to first floor

É-KUN4 (bīt simmiltim)

‘Stairwell’

Kitchen: monfunctional locus with domestic functions; in some cases with additional residential functions (double as living room)

É-MUЬALDIM

‘House of the cook’ ‘House of the ovens’

Entrance: multipurpose locus for access, reception, and business

É-BAR-RA (barakkum)

‘Anteroom’ (Entrance)

Chapel: mutipurpose locus with ritual, domestic, and business functions (inner courtyard)

É-PA(4)-PAЬ, papāΪum or É-ZAG-G̃AR-RA (aširtu) or É-KI-SÈ-GA

‘Chapel’

É-IM.ŠU.RIN.NA

‘House of the funerary sacrifice’

Main living/reception room: multipurpose locus with residential, business, educational and entertaining activities

É-GAL (ekallum)

‘Reception room’

Living room: multipurpose locus with residential, and entertaining activities

É-KI-TUŠ (šubtum)

‘Living room’

É-ŠÀ

‘Inner room’

Courtyard: multipurpose locus with domestic, manufacturing, storage, business and educational activities

KISAL (kisallum)

‘Courtyard’

Upper floor: assumed by the brick stairways (Ur, Sippar, Larsa, Kutalla)

É-ÙR-RA (bītum rugbum)

‘Upper presence of floor’

ovens’, refer to the main cooking activities, the nonverbal, spatial analysis of artefacts/features has also suggested a surplus of meaning for this space that in some cases may double as living room for poorer

residents: a hidden aspect of family power relations that needs not be overtly stressed by language. This applies also to the other loci (the chapel is also a private courtyard, a place of entertainment, etc.). However, since 52

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE we can retrieve this meaning only nonverbally by means of activity area analysis and not linguistically, this shows the potential and primary importance of the nonverbal material which fills language in the creation of meaning. This means that it is always possible to get through archaeological analysis at some of the past people’s meanings because we share at least to some extent their nonverbal readings of the world, and this is pivotal to archaeology which strives to get at ancient meanings of things by studying material culture. On the internal level of Mesopotamian culture, there is not a strict equivalence between these words and their material referents but some degree of meaning (e.g. the residential, and other nuances of the term ‘kitchen’) is implied and apparently hidden. On the axis of the directionality of language, some indeterminacy generates a broader range of the nonverbal materials that the Mesopotamians may attach to these designations and they should let their linguistic imagination unfold the webs of nonverbal signals with no immediate closure of meaning. However, since implicit deixis appears as natural knowledge to those who speak the language, the Mesopotamian people certainly understand all such nuances, despite the designation synthesises the main nonverbal content (e.g. the cooking). Yet, nothing could be more unnatural, since such implicit knowledge is not accessible to the outsider. Implicit deixis is deeply cultural and is an implicit code which is thus hidden to us verbally. But if nonverbal experience receives only a coarse-grain coverage by language, this does not allow the conclusion that the experience itself is coarse-grained. The fact that loci designations cover their multiple functions must not induce us to think that the culture does not have these differences. It has them nonverbally. It is, in fact, unlikely that the visual messages to our brain are censored by language which provides only certain words and not others. The more likely interpretation is that cultures function notwithstanding a certain heterogeneity between language and nonverbal semiosis. On the crosscultural level, it would be thus impossible for us to understand the full set of meanings of the word, would it not be for the nonverbal reconstruction carried out archaeologically. Modal and semiotic opacity blurs to some extent our understanding of the meanings of such designations since our contemporary culture tends, in effect, to order different types of activities (e.g. business versus domestic) into function-specific loci and public buildings in that showing a higher degree of segmentation.

stressing the broad semantic coverage of the word. Archaeology shows the presence of different types of nonverbal realisations of the ‘house’, or actual buildings whose meanings are summed up by this word and are only implied verbally: the semantic field of the house viewed as a shelter for the household, the king and the priest (1) is filled respectively by the archaeological remains of houses, palaces and temples, while that of the ‘rural house’ (2) by the archaeological recognisance of rural estates; (3) the house as a room, or a tombs is also attested archaeologically, etc. Thus here language schemata are coarse-grained and so cover a large number of nonverbal phenomena. On the cross-cultural level, there appears only a limited semantic overlapping between the ancient and the present meanings of the word thus showing modal and semantic opacity. Obviously, the difference between contemporary meanings like ‘hotel’, ‘residential hall’ or ‘college’ at a university, ‘House of Commons’ or ‘House of Lords’ (e.g. Oxford Dictionary), and Mesopotamian meanings such as ’cabin of a boat’, ‘tomb’, ‘container’ reflects the introduction of new technologies, and new ways of conceiving the house. Our concept of house is imbued with nonverbal readings which have to do with a more segmented kind of architecture whereby monofunctional spaces and cumbersome furniture prevail over the Mesopotamian more flexible use of spaces, and this also determines our more segmented terminology with distinctions among ‘house’, ‘home’, ‘flat’, etc. Consequently, the directionality of language expresses indeterminacy with a relatively broader range of nonverbal readings apt to be processed by the linguistic grid ‘house’. Although some overlapping between our perceptual readings of house and that of the Mesopotamians means that we share to some extent the same nonverbal readings of the Mesopotamians, we face difficulties here when we try to interpret Mesopotamian implicit deixis, and the hidden stance of this symbolic word has a stronger modal opacity. Also the symbolic and generic nature of this definition increases semiotic opacity, that is the inherent uncertainty originating from the difficulties of reconstructing the general social context of a foreign language. There is a lot of interpretive labour to do on the nonverbal reconstruction of appropriate backgrounds for such definition as its stronger vagueness broadens the field of the possible nonverbal readings apt to fill the schemas of the word in different social contexts. So in the analysis of Mesopotamian verbal ‘house’ we abandon logical accuracy and proceed intuitively, we try to figure out what sort of meaning construction best matches a specific cultural situation. By accepting semiotic opacity as an inherent character of meaning, we acknowledge once more the importance of ‘sufficient semiosis’. Thus, for the native Mesopotamian speaker the word ‘bītum’ implies social instructions of meaning as to what range of nonverbal signs to activate. At cross-cultural level, these instructions differ from those related to the English term ‘house’, or the Italian ‘casa’, even though all share the same base reference to residential structures. Both deixis and reference, then, take a semiotic and cultural character

Finally, the designation of ‘house’, Sumerian É and Akkadian bītum (CAD B), is at the top of the ladder since its broad semantic field (Edzard 1972–75: 22–23) represents the strongest example of propositional, modal and semiotic opacity (Table 3.6, House). The application of intersemiotic translation or transmutation – an interpretation of the verbal sign ‘house’ by means of signs of its nonverbal referents (archaeological ‘houses’) – shows propositional opacity in that within Mesopotamian culture different nonverbal readings are processed by this word in different contexts, thereby 53

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING in a corporeal semantics. In Ruthrof’s words, “the very ‘same’ item in two cultures, the ‘same’ reference in analytical terms, has a different meaning by virtue of a different cultural speech stance, a culture’s implicit deixis or hidden cultural modalities” (2000: 59).

broader symbolic meanings show some dissonance with actual architecture (Table 3.9b, Broader symbolic meanings). The first group of omens dealing with more technical discourse and especially with the positions of transitional spaces such as doors, thresholds, courtyards and other loci, as well as inside versus outside appearance and foundations, shows corroboration or intersemiotic relation of verbal and nonverbal sign systems and consequent limited propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. Intersemiotic translation or transmutation shows that if the nonverbal reconstruction of house disposition are brought to bear on the linguistic dispositions predicted by the omens, there is a tight match of meanings which are covered by the linguistic schemata. The actual dispositions of the house’s main features tend to follow the predicated dispositions of the omens in order to strengthen cultural norms related to two kinds of structural and interrelated oppositions: the house prosperity and good luck as opposed to bad luck and destruction on the one hand, and male versus female roles on the other (prosperity: destruction = male : female). Indeed, the symbols which display these properties relate to the psychological processes of death and birth, anabolism and catabolism whereby female is associate with the liminal, unstable and transitional status (phases one and two of rites of passage: separation and margin or limen, respectively), while male has to do with social stability and reincorporation to social norms of control (phase three: aggregation). As to door positions and sizes (Table 3.9a), archaeological houses follows exactly the privacy regulations of the omen in that they have independent front doors of a relatively small size, and such doors open inwards so as to avoid direct line of access from the outside (‘bent’ entrances). These dispositions are associated with prosperity, good luck, peace and privacy for the house as a whole (no direct line of access) which is also connected to male control over women, gender roles and power negotiation within the family. By contrast, the interior architecture restricts privacy and accentuates visibility in that confirming nonverbal, spatial analysis on room dispositions around the courtyard. This stress on gender tension and negotiation is also suggested by the threshold position of the house door, the interface space between the external world and the house interior. The omens stress a male ideology whereby interiority and containment/privacy is emphasised by the ideal presence of a raised threshold (with respect to the courtyard one) and in doing so reaffirm male gender hierarchy. Intersemiotic translation or transmutation as evidenced by the raised positions of archaeological thresholds matches the omens. If the raising of the external threshold is certainly due to practical reasons since the external threshold has to keep pace with the rise of the street, the lucky “drop” at the entrance was emphasized to an uncomfortable degree to conform with superstition. The identification of the courtyard with female power – implicit here in the disastrous effects its raised threshold may bring to the male inhabitants – would also fit in with previous archaeological identification of courtyards as mainly associated with female activities.

In sum, propositional, modal and semiotic opacity increase from relatively more technical designations referring to earthly activities (storeroom, archive room, stairwell, and upper floor) to terms imbued with a stronger social and symbolic emphasis pointing to more social/cultual activities (chapel, main living room/reception, living room, and house as a whole) in that confirming the law of diminishing returns and the sufficient semiosis approach. The social constructions of house omens and their spatial dimensions The relationship between house omens concerning the favourable or unfavourable dispositions of architectural features and loci of the house and their actual realisations in archaeological houses is analysed in order to shed light on the interaction of verbal and nonverbal sign systems in symbolic discourse. The texts of the first millennium omen series šumma ālu, ‘if a city’, register ominous signals present inside and near the house boundaries (Nötscher 1928–1930; Guinan 1996: 61–68). As shown in Table 3.9a-b (Tablets 5–6, building a new house and observations of the finished structure), the house omens are predicated by assuming that the signs of a person’s future are manifest in his physical residence. The Mesopotamians employ divination to fix the correct place and time to build a house and its structural organisation so that the house complies with the social and cosmic order. Ritual texts of the first millennium inform us that the house must be magically defended against epidemic diseases and malevolent forces, represented as an army of demoniac intruders, while the fact that Old Babylonian incantations mention the bull-eared god kusarikku along with the house god means that superstition at this earlier age did not differ from later times (Van der Toorn 1999: 139–47). Liminal spaces such as doorways and corners of the house, which are dealt with in the omen texts, needed be patrolled by guardian figures of terracotta, some of which were found in the excavated houses. Similarly, in the visual (reliefs of coitus a tergo, drinking scenes, copulation in bed, spread-legged females) and textual erotica of the Old Babylonian period the body and sexuality had magical implications: by drawing on folk magic regarding the prosperous union between the divine couple Dumuzi and Inanna (the tavern madam of the erotic reliefs), such plaques, with their symbolic iconicity, could sympathetically attract the auspicious into the house and ward off lilû demons (Assante 2002: 43–8). While the first group of omens demonstrates the mutually reinforcing interconnection between architecture and social structure already put forward by nonverbal, spatial analysis (Table 3.9a), in the second group relatively 54

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE Table 3.9a Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction between omen definitions of architectural norms and their applications in real houses showing an intersemiotic rapport.

Doors

Nonverbal meaning (actual houses)

Verbal meaning (house omens)

Independent front doors

● “If the door on the front of the house does not lead to any other house, it means good luck” (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 23). “ If the door of a house leads from the street to the front of the house, that house will have good luck” (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 23). “If the door of a house be low, the house will have stability and peace; if the door of a house be very large, that house will be destroyed” (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 24). “If the door of a house opens outwards the woman of the house will be a torment her husband” (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 24). “If the doorways of a house open in its front, a man’s wife will harass her spouse. If the doorways of a house open on the side (?), the house will be happy” (CT 38, 12: 64–65; Guinan 1996: 63). “If the door of a room opens onto the court, that house will be enlarged; if the door of a room opens inside the house (i.e. into another room), that house will be broken away” (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 26). “If the door of the upper storey room opens on to the courtyard, the house will expand; if it opens to the interior of the house….” (CT 38, 12: 67; Guinan 1996: 63). ● “If the threshold drops towards the inside, revenues will come in”, and revenues will further accrue “if the threshold does not keep water clear of the house” (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 24). “If the threshold of the house is high with respect to the courtyard, the owner of the house will be placed above the lady of the house. If the threshold of the courtyard is high with respect to the house, the lady of the house will be placed above the owner of the house” (CT 38, 13: 91–92; Guinan 1996: 63). ● “If the courtyard lets the water collect in the middle of the court, that man will have great good fortune”, whereas should the water collect at the back of the court “to him is no success allotted” (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 24). ● “An ominous sign in a private room pertains to the daughter or sometimes the son of the family, in the upstairs room to the daughter-in-law, and on the exterior wall to the family domestics” (CT 38, 16: 76–78, cited in Guinan 1996: 63). ● “If the foundation of a house overtakes the street, the house will be abandoned and its owners keep moving away. If the foundation of a house ‘recognises’ (the boundaries) of the street, the owner of that house will have a god, the house will endure” (CT 38, 10: 22–23). “If the foundation of a house encroaches upon the city square, the inhabitants of that house will not agree with one another” (CT 38, 10: 24). “If the house blocks the city square during its construction, the owners of the house will die one after another” (CT 38, 12: 70) (Guinan 1996: 63–64).

Front doors are small (0.80–1.00m) Front doors open inwards No direct line of access from interior to exterior Most room doors opens onto the courtyard (also on the upper storey)

Thresholds

Thresholds drop towards inside

Courtyards

Central drains are attested (when present)

Family members

Private and upstairs loci are residential areas for the family; slaves occupy side rooms Foundation Foundations and houses do not encroach on streets or squares

55

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Table 3.9b Verbal-nonverbal sign interaction between omen definitions of architectural norms and applications in actual architecture with a stronger heterosemiotic conflict. Nonverbal meaning (actual houses)

Verbal meaning (house omens)

Outside appearance

A blank wall and modest (shady) appearance with inward orientation

Inside appearance

White-plastered roofs are attested

● “If the appearance of a house is flashy on the outside, the house will fall. If the appearance of a house is lacklustre on the outside, the house will have a good. If the appearance of a house is inviting on the outside, the house will not endure. If the appearance of a house is forbidding on the outside, its inhabitant will be happy. If the appearance of a house is shady on the outside, its inhabitant will be happy. If the appearance of a house keeps changing on the outside, its owner will change: If the appearance of a house remains constant on the outside, its owner will grow old” (CT 38, 14: 1–7; Guinan 1996: 64–5). ● “If a canopy of the house shines on the inside, its inhabitant will be happy. If the canopy of the house is black the inhabitant will have trouble” (CT 38, 14: 9–10; Guinan 1996: 65–6). ● “If the plaster of a house is painted white, it brings luck” (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 28) (CT 38, 14: 28, CT 38, 15: 29–32). “If in the interior of a house the walls show the plaster falling off, destruction of that house” (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 28). ● “A flash of light on the south wall applies to the master of the house, on the north to its mistress” (CT 38, 16: 74– 75; Guinan 1996: 64). ● “Doorways that open to the south signify happiness, while those that open to the north unhappiness” (CT 8, 12: 60–61; Guinan 1996: 64). ● “If there is a sanctuary either on the roof or in the courtyard of a man’s house, according to the omen, the gods will abandon the house, they will let it become impoverished, and it will go to ruin” (CT 38, 17: 97). ● “If a man’s house is surrounded by pegs, the house’s prayer will not be granted, the owner of the house will not grow old (CT 38, 17: 93). “If a house is surrounded by a net, the command of the palace will seize that house, it will not have a god” (CT 38, 17: 95). ● “If everything for a banquet in the temple is regularly provided, the house will have regular good fortune” (CT 40, 11: 86 plus joins to K2685+). “If a god enters a man’s house for a banquet, constant uprising and contention are predicted” (CT 40, 5: 38 plus joins to K268+). ● “If the house makes the sound of a kettle-drum………” (K268+ 8.). “If honey is seen in a house or on the walls of a house the house will be devastated” (CT 40, 2: 27). ● “If a man’s house smells of apple, the owner’s spouse will delight him; of cucumber, he will have many children” (CT 38, 17: 109, 18: 111). “If a man’s house (its walls) smells variously ghee, oil, aromatic plants, or wine will lose its wealth, he will have his property taken over, find his material circumstances reduced, or lose an heir” (CT 38, 17: 100–104). “Even if his possessions should prosper, the house, nevertheless, will be unlucky” (CT 38, 17: 102). (Guinan 1996: 66–7).

White plaster is attested, as well as a particular care for re-plastering Broader symbolic meanings

No strict referential logic

56

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE The omens for different types of loci and features and their associations with various family members show the same corroboration or intersemiotic relation (Table 3.9a). In particular, the archaeological presence of central drains in the courtyards matches the ‘empty’ verbal/ schemata of the omens which by associating good luck with the central positioning of such drains can thus be taken as the linguistic manifestations of actual architecture. The same applies to the distinction between the occurrence of ominous signs respectively in a private room which pertains to the daughter (and a son), the upstairs room to the daughter-in-law, and on the exterior wall to the family domestics. Here again the provisions of the omens can be explained if nonverbal reconstruction of family activities are brought to bear on the linguistic schemata: domestic slaves were traced mainly in external loci of the house (kitchens, workrooms), the distinction made by the omens between daughters and daughters-inlaw, that is siblings and affines, has been also traced archaeologically in that ground floor residential loci are reserved for the main family and additional residential space on the upper floor may be allocated to newly married sons and their wives. The status divisions within the family are thus reinforced by both verbal and nonverbal readings.

happy, light is sad) and focuses on the architectural logic: the proper architectural organisation becomes the model for an adequate social conduct (Guinan 1996: 65).

House omens on internal/external house appearance and foundations and their actual appearance show also a strong corroboration or intersemiotic relation (Table 3.9a-b). As to foundations, omens are clear references to the context of fraudulent encroachment on public space and are thus harsh provisions to deter houseowner from abusing of public space. Such threatening provisions hinting at possible disaster for the family are generally actualised in real architecture, thus showing how the nonverbal represents the filling of empty language schemata. The house occupies social space in that it is situated in relation to other houses and the rest of the community, and thus its location and appearance is an external representation of an individual’s social position and public persona. In the house interior privacy is reduced and there is an effort to maintain clear-cut status divisions, while outside it is favourable to conceal the common markers of power and wealth. Omens from Tablet 6 define the favourable or unpropitious properties of a house’s exterior appearance which are the opposite of the house interior. Positive cultural values and properties related to prosperity, happiness, endurance etc. are attributed to a shady and modest appearance in contrast to a lavish one. Also external changes are discouraged, while a constant appearance is related to family long life. All these single provisions incorporating cultural values are attested archaeologically as the front of the house and the other sides present no features of interest, nothing but a blank wall broken by the entrance-door alone, thus emphasising the introverted character of the house that probably means a need of privacy for the household as a whole. These omens show the ideal of an appropriate social façade. Their meaning resolves on the metaphoric symbolism of standard patterns (dark is

However, the omens draw from a textual world and point to a textual house, and thus their meaning is construed through symbolic structures rather than architectural patterns. As for this second group of omens dealing with gender roles and the appropriation of ritual prerogatives reserved for the institutions (Table 3.9b, Broader symbolic meanings), intersemiotic translation shows a relatively stronger dissonance and more complex (less direct) relation with their nonverbal referents and a consequent higher degree of opacity. The main interrelated structural oppositions are that between south versus north orientation of the house, and male versus female (south: north = male : females) whereby positive attitudes are represented by the first terms (the right hand is associated with male and thus south, facing east, is on the right). Doorways that open to the south signify happiness, while those that open to the north unhappiness and a flash of light on the south wall applies to the master of the house, on the north to its mistress. Dissonance between actual house orientation and omen provisions is reported. In fact, Mesopotamian houses cluster randomly in neighbourhoods along the opposite sides of winding narrow streets (nearly 50% looking north and 50% south in AH, EM, MS, EH sites at Ur; TA, level VIII, TB, level II, Nippur; Larsa, Isin, Sippar and Harâdum). According to the omen, at least 50% of the houses of the time would be unhappy, a thing probably to be avoided when it comes to domestic life! This is probably due to the scarce availability of space in the crowded neighbourhoods of the period. In fact, the tendency for houses built where no limitations were imposed by established property lines to open southwards – though dictated also by climatic reasons, that is a better exposure to the sun – would match the omen provisions (Nos. 1, 3, 5, 7 Quiet Street EM, Ur; House K, TA, Nippur; B27, Larsa; Gebäude A, Isin).

As for the interior features (Table 3.9b), the cultural values of the external appearance, the public face of the house, must not necessarily be interiorised. Inside the house, usual symbolic patterns would work, and positive emphasis is thus placed on shining ceilings, white plastering, and house upkeep versus a status of disrepair and a dark painting which would bring disaster to the house. Also in this case archaeological evidence shows that the nonverbal readings are brought to bear on and fill in the empty schemata of language. Nearly all interior wall surfaces were plastered with a fairly thick coat of mud and the walls were also whitewashed (see manifold additions of coats of plaster and layers of whitewash). Omens have thus a precise referential logic in actual architecture. The shabby social appearance of the house serves to conceal and protect family power and the flourishing of private enterprise and wealth (Guinan 1996: 66). The nonverbal filling of the texts highlights both the relationship between privacy and power, as well as visibility and vulnerability.

57

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Moreover, in Tablet 6 few omens suggest images which, being usually linked to royal building activities, have negative connotations in a domestic environment (Table 3.9b). The omens show official prerogatives not be usurped by private citizens. Architectural features such as sanctuaries, high parapets, pegs nor nets, cultic activity and rituals to the public gods, the colour of a house’s plaster, the smells of a house, and shining exteriors that are boasted by kings are unpropitious for the private house (see CAD A s.v. aširtu; CAD G, s.v. gabadibbu; N/1 s.v. namāru). Intersemiotic translation shows a less direct relation between house omens and actual architectural dispositions with a consequent higher propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. In fact, no sanctuary is reported on the roof or the courtyard of the archaeological houses and no pegs nor nets surround the houses themselves in that matching the provisions of the omens which otherwise predict the gods’ departure from the house, poverty and the house seizure by the palace institution. Moreover, the regular offerings to the temple for the god’s banquet must be avoided within the house and this is why there is archaeological evidence of domestic gods (terracotta plaques) within the house but not of the main official deities. The substances (e.g. honey, ghee, oil, aromatic plants, or wine) whose smells would bring disaster to the house can be identified with those applied to the walls in the construction of royal buildings (Ellis 1968: 29–30, 172–174). The walls of archaeological houses, in fact, are by no means made up of such substances. As to the smell of apple and cucumber within the house, it is possible that their positive connotations as regards sexual fecundity and harmonious gender relations have to do with their not representing temple or palace prerogatives. Thus, no direct relationship does exist between such nonverbal material and its ominous provisions in the creation of meaning, but this is mediated by textual elaboration of additional nonverbal readings originating from related webs of nonverbal signification outside the house domain, thereby following Heidegger’s semantics of ‘totality of involvements’ or as-structure. It is through this additional nonverbal material coming from a larger political and cultual arena that one can understand the relationship between actual houses and omen provisions in the creation of meaning. In fact, sanctuaries located in the courtyard or roof hint at temple spatial organisation, and pegs stake out the ground-plan of a temple; the omen thus suggests the negative implications of a private structure built in a specifically-designed sacred area. The metaphor of the hunting net is also employed by the omen to show that a house may be the prey or the enemy of the more powerful royal institution (Guinan 1996: 66). Analysis of broad systems of settings and broader notions of truth-conditions are thus required here: meaning exchange in complex social situations – where truth is as troublesome to fix as the range of meanings it is supposed to define – is characterised by the symbolic association of different network of nonverbal readings construed by language.

corroboration. This means that within the internal level of Mesopotamian culture, little propositional opacity between the architectural norms predicated in the texts and their referential, nonverbal meanings (actual applications of such norms) is present, owing to the homologous cultural ways in which communities from different Mesopotamian cities fill the verbal schemata (house omens) with the nonverbal (actual architectural configurations). Owing to the symbolically reinforcing character of these omens, also the directionality of language expresses determinacy with a relatively small range of nonverbal readings apt to fill the linguistic schemata (a determined spatial organisation). On the cross-cultural level, also modal and semiotic opacity is limited for, though our cultural perception of what is auspicious or inauspicious differs from that of the Mesopotamians, we have a clear understanding of the contextual associations between omen provisions and their nonverbal fillings. By contrast, the second group of omens shows that within the internal level of Mesopotamian culture, relatively more propositional opacity between the architectural norms predicated in the texts and their referential, nonverbal meanings is present because of the metaphoric character of such provisions. This entails higher indeterminacy with a broader range of nonverbal readings processed by the omen texts. On the cross-cultural level, modal and semiotic opacity is present for, not only our cultural perception of what is auspicious or inauspicious differ from that of the Mesopotamians, but we have not a clear understanding of the contextual associations between omen provisions and the increasingly complex networks of their nonverbal fillings (e.g. with temples and palaces, etc.). Our reconstruction of the ancient cultural deixis is thus in the lurch. The house omens highlight the opposition between the family’s public position and those features of the private life which must be concealed. They demonstrate either the mutually reinforcing connection between architecture and domestic society or relatively broader symbolic meanings showing dissonance with actual architecture. Such a two-fold pattern is possible because the house is situated at the intersection of separate spheres, the public and private sector, thus suggesting an intrinsic contradictory character. Domestic space is a natural venue for the observation of omens and divinatory practice, in fact, fill the divide between the social dimension and the individual (Guinan 1996: 61–2). Divination’s focus on family fortunes hints at a garbled process of social control. Some of the house omens reflect Mesopotamian architectural norms and may also have served to reinforce them, thus legitimating social structure where it is more vulnerable (Woolley 1955: 180; Guinan 2002: 186–89). But the divisions between public and private spaces (and social hierarchy) reveal not only how divination can reinforce social boundaries, but also how it can be used to manipulate and possibly even subvert them. The contrast between the value systems associated with the interior and exterior of the house is clearly hinted at in the relatively more technical

In sum, the relationship between ominous signs of the first group relating to technical discourse and their nonverbal, referential counterparts is one of strong 58

VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SIGN INTERACTION IN MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC SPACE group of omens, while those between the private house and the larger political scene are more subtle, but, nevertheless, visible in the second symbolic group. These different statuses show how the attributes of liminality or of liminal personae (“threshold people”) are necessarily ambiguous, since this condition and these persons elude the usual network of values established in cultural space. This process is clear in both types of concerns addressed by the omen, that is liminality of the interior-exterior kind and transition between the house as a whole and a broader political scenario. Auspicious spatial arrangements within the house are related to fear for unwarranted appropriation of male prerogatives on the one hand (as for sex omens which oppose male public positions and female eroticism, Guinan 2002: 199), and royal prerogatives on the other, and this is the true threatening aim of both groups of omens. Tacit norms, or deictic nonverbal codes regulating spatial organisation are thus not sufficient and need be reinforced by explicit superstitious systems of a linguistic kind which reconcile

liminal situations into their final and aggregative phase of social control. However, liminal situations hinting at the control of the family property are not dealt with by the omens for they are already regulated by other more formal types of discourse, such as juridical discourse (see below inheritance law in Hammurapi’s Law Code). This would also suggest that gender tension is viewed as relatively less threatening (and more negotiable) than the friction among family members for inheritance and it is thus better managed by the omens than formal laws. In fact, contrary to legally-controlled behaviour, everyday emotions concerning domestic life are better perceived as the product of hidden forces beyond one’s control which may be accommodated by a minimum of textual control. In semiotic terms, the house omens show how two different and compatible ways – meaning as intersemiotic and heterosemiotic – are at work in the construction of meaning, without the expectation of a coherent world being destroyed.

59

Chapter 4

Dynamic interaction of semiotic systems through the house cycle

The interaction between verbal and nonverbal sign systems is scrutinised through time, that is through the developmental cycle of the family, thus providing the theory of such interaction with a dynamic and contextual component. The deictic, nonverbal codes identified by network chart analysis in five different house models are set in motion and compared to archival information on family development originating from the same houses.

(Stone 1987: 67–9). House H, a large square building that comprised the area later taken up by house G, was first built by the two brothers or cousins Sîn-magir and ImgurNinurta in the early years of Hammurapi, thus forming an extended family house. While Sîn-magir is the main actor in the archive and probably the head of the family, no connection between family genealogy and the actual architecture is possible for the square House H/G has scanty remains. At Sîn-magir’s and Imgur-Ninurta’s death, there is the first evidence of the initial fissioning of such an extended family into two separate, neighbouring nuclear families: House H itself went first to Lipit-Ištar, Sîn-magir’s nephew (and Imgur-Ninurta’s son), and then to his son Imgur-Sîn, while the other son, Iddin-Ninurta, inherited the area later occupied by House G. In House H, Lipit-Ištar, son of Imgur-Ninurta (TIM 4 texts 24 and 25) takes over the family leadership and engages in entrepreneurial activities such as the lending of money (Text 57: silver loan in 1755 BC) and dealing with field property. We do not know if Sîn-magir’s wife dies also, but his son Imgur-Sîn, as well as his daughter certainly live with their elder cousin Lipit-Ištar (Text 58). With Lipit-Ištar’s death, the family resumes the traditional patrilineal succession and vertical inheritance pattern: Imgur-Sîn, a member of the main branch of the family (Sîn-magir’s son), takes the house in his hands until 1739 BC when the economic crisis drove him from Nippur. Imgur-Sîn is involved in rentals and sales of fields (Text 59, 1739 BC), scribal training, and probably also temple or palace administration (see temple ties of his brother Iddin-Ninurta in house G, below). Five years later, the continuity of the family history is shown by the presence of Enlil-nīšu and Etel-pî-Ištar (the junior sons of ImgurNinurta, and brothers of Lipit-Ištar) probably Imgur-Sîn’s younger cousins, who rebuilt the structure. In 1732 BC the two brothers dissolve their partnership and while the main brother Etel-pî-Ištar inhabits the square House I, his brother Enlil-nīšu takes House H, though keeping a common archive in House I and strong business ties. Indirect evidence from House I may indicate that Enlilnīšu, like his brother Etel-pî-Ištar, is involved in field rentals (Text 51, House I, Stone 1987: 65). The fact the archive of the two brothers are kept in House I, which by this time shows a communicating door with House H, would suggest the possible fragmentation of an extended family into two nuclear ones which occupy two neighbouring structures. Power and control on family business and archives is retained by the Etel-pî-Ištar’s branch of the family residing in the square House I, probably because of the elder age or better skills of this individual (see below). In sum, there is continuity in family business: although some residents may have ties with the temple organisation, they belong to the non-state

The family archives have an incredibly strong informative power about Mesopotamian social compositions. As records of legal transactions among residents, they were usually found in pots within the archive room of the house or lying against the walls of the house in their original context. Since wrong tablet entries can lead to misconstructions of family genealogy, the tablets whereabouts, their findspots and levels of provenance have been carefully assessed through analysis of the original records in the British Museum (Brusasco 2000: 155–167). Not only do these texts provide information about the kinship position of different persons and their partners but also shed light the property holdings of the various households (i.e. sales, inheritance texts, etc.) and the types of activities carried out by their owners. Nuclear Families: Model-1 houses (linear houses) House H, TA, Nippur (Table 4.1) Table 4.1 displays the set of nonverbal and verbal meaning messages. I analyse the former first, and then will proceed to investigate the family genealogy and kind of activities, in that trying to bridge the gap between these two kinds of evidence and shed light on the relationship of verbal and nonverbal meanings. 1. Nonverbal messages As shown above, structures such as House H belong to Model 1, namely nuclear family residences with simple social relations and minimal tension between residentsvisitors and residents-servants for the control of business and chapel/family room. This ‘approach-avoidance’ model remains stable trough the family cycle, since there are no architectural changes from the first to the second occupation. 2. Verbal messages Twelve school fragments and three contracts were found in the latest (dated to 1734 BC) level XA-3 (lobby 1: Text 59; courtyard 2: Text 57, chapel/family room 4: Text 58) and may have also originated in earlier levels (XI). They shed light on the history of this house for about over fifty years (1792–1734 BC, Hammurapi and Samsu-iluna), thus covering at least three generations 60

61

Low Accessibility R4 Family room

High Accessibility R1Entrance R2 Courtyard R3 (Main) Living r.

Accessibility & Control Indexes

10 10 30

A.I. 6-7 7 6 7

0 0 0

C.I. 0 0 0 0

Street

1

2

3

4

Network Charts

Nonverbal meaning House Plans

III PHASE Level XA

II PHASE Level XI

I PHASE House H-G Level XI

?

▲

▲ Imgur-Sîn (1739 BC)

▲ Enlil-nīšu (1734 BC)

▲? Lipit-Ištar (1755 BC)

Sîn-magir Imgur-Ninurta (1792-1762 BC)

▲

Family Genealogy

Verbal meaning

Commercial: Local scale field rentals Scribal

Commercial: Local scale field rentals and sales, money lending (Lipit-Ištar) Temple agents? Scribal

Residents’ Activities

Table 4.1 House H, TA, Nippur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction between textual evidence on family composition and its actual residential pattern showing an intersemiotic rapport between different sign systems.

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING sector and act as private businessmen and traders; their activities are primarily on a local scale. The pattern of witnessing each other documents suggests commercial and possibly kinship ties between the residents of Houses H and G (the houses of two brothers), N (Text 34I) K (Ninlil-zimu family, BE6/2 11), and I (OIMA 1 12) (Stone 1987: 67–69) Hence all these people are likely to represent an extended family, in spite of their being citizens of the city of Nippur.

cultural level, also modal and semiotic opacity are limited for we have here a clear understanding of the contextual associations between the ‘textual family’, that is the number of main actors and their specific activities reported in the archives, and its nonverbal filling or spatial coding as reconstructed by means of network chart analysis. Thus, there are relatively little difficulties here when we try to interpret and so reconstruct their implicit cultural deixis, and the implied stance of the technical text has a reduced modal opacity. Also the technical nature of the text reduces semiotic opacity, that is the uncertainty resulting from the difficulties of reconstructing the general cultural frame within which language, and especially a foreign one, occurs.

3. Conclusion The following results are achieved, with particular stress on those social/symbolic features of family sociology evidenced by the texts which either have a visible impact on the morphology of the charts or no apparent architectural visibility or are dissonant.

House G, TA, Nippur (Table 4.2) House G borders with House H with which it formed originally a unique square structure (architectural phase I). Table 4.2 displays the set of nonverbal and verbal meaning messages.

(a) The existence of one main actor per each phase suggests the presence of a nuclear family with vertical inheritance and patrilineal succession from father to son (though interrupted for some time by a cousin, Lipit-Ištar) and this matches the identification of one single living room (i.e. the archaeological model for the identification of residential spaces) and the assumption that one living room should equal one nuclear family; (b) The presence of scribal activities, local scale business (field rentals, purchase and sale of real estate, lending of silver) and relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (the witnessing of each other’s documents in Houses K, G, N, I may suggest close economic and kinship ties) matches the interior-exterior orientation of these shallow charts, hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal relations with the outside world.

1. Nonverbal messages The ‘approach-avoidance’ model of this house remains stable through the family cycle. 2. Verbal messages While the first two occupations (level XI) can be reconstructed through indirect evidence from House K’s archives, none of the tablets found in the rebuilding of the house in level XA (1734 BC, phase III) refer to its inhabitants (Stone 1987: 69–70). After House H/G is divided into two different linear houses, Sîn-magir’s other son Iddin-Ninurta moves to House G. Indirect evidence from nearby House K shows the acquisition of House G by Iddin-Ninurta in 1755 BC and describes the activities of his family. Iddin-Ninurta, a nu-èš temple agent like many other residents of TA, exchanged field plots with Enlil-dingir, a member of the Ninlil-zimu family of House K (ARN 70, 1755 BC). In 1751 BC (phase II) the exchange contract OIMA 1 12 (from House K) shows that Iddin-Ninurta exchanged House G with Ekur-andul (possibly a relative of the House K family), a member of the junior branch of House K who became the new owner of House G (Stone 1987: 69, Table 16). Thus, Iddin-Ninurta’s archive is not found in House G since he moved soon to another house (Stone 1987: 69). The fact that Ekur-andul’s exchange text (OIMA 1 12 ) originates from House K rather than from his new House G, points to the persistent control of family business and real estate by the main branch of the household of House K, thus suggesting only an initial stage of the family fragmentation into separate residential units. Like his relatives of House K he may be involved in commercial activities such as the sale of fields, orchards, and empty lots, as well as the purchase of temple offices and the witnessing of his neighbours’ texts (Houses K, H) (see House K below; Stone 1987: 49). While the presence of school texts in House G itself shows the continuity of scribal activities from the occupation of Iddin-Ninurta to the last residents Ekurandul and/or his descendants, the change of ownership

If intersemiotic translation or transmutation, that is an interpretation of the verbal signs of House H family sociology by means of signs of nonverbal sign systems retrieved archaeologically is carried out, there appears an intersemiotic rapport and a consequent small propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. In fact, the architectural continuity of house layout and network charts, as well as the stability of accessibility and control values is reflected in a parallel continuity in family social structure as evidenced by the texts. Since all the main social features of family sociology evidenced by the texts have a visible impact on chart morphology and take specific morphological features and accessibility values, such social traits can be predicted by nonverbal analysis also in those cases which lack the written evidence. Owing to the technical and contractual nature of these archives which register the main family’s deeds and genealogy, the verbal schemata are more directly filled with the nonverbal, deictic (implicit) readings, that is actual spatial patterns. Consequently, also both axes of the directionality of language (language as directed to the world) express determinacy and small underdetermination with a relatively small range of nonverbal readings apt to fill the linguistic schemata on family specific social relations. On the cross62

63

Low Accessibility R3 Chapel/Family r.

High Accessibility R1 Entrance R2 Courtyard

Accessibility & Control Indexes

6 6 14

A.I. 4 4 4

0 0 0

C.I. 0 0 0

Street

1

2

3

Network Charts

Nonverbal meaning House Plans

III PHASE Level XA

II PHASE Level XI

I PHASE House H/G Level XI

Ekur-andul and/or his descendants (1734-1723 BC)

?

▲ Ekur-andul (1751 BC)

▲ Iddin-Ninurta (1755-1751BC)

▲ ? ▲ Sîn-magir Imgur-Ninurta (1792-1762 BC)

Family Genealogy

Verbal meaning

Table 4.2 House G , TA, Nippur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport between different sign systems.

Commercial: Local scale sale of fields, orchards, empty lots (property owners), witnessing neighbours’ texts (Houses K, H) Temple agent: purchase of temple offices Scribal

Commercial: Local scale sale of fields and empty lots Temple agent nu-èš office Scribal

Residents’ Activities DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING would be shown by the introduction of a partially new set of commercial undertakings and temple offices by the late residents. As for phase III (level XA), the reconstruction of House G does not take place until after the rebuilding of House H in 1734 BC, but we do not know whether the structure is still occupied by Ekur-andul and/or his descendant in the final period of the house history in 1723 BC, shortly before the final abandonment of the city. In sum, the junior branches of extended families from House H (Iddin-Ninurta) and K (Ekur-andul) tend to seek independent accommodations, thus possibly showing some kind of tension in internal relations. Though there are a number of priests, these people are property owners and businessmen who have no direct organisation ties with the temple or the palace.

features and accessibility values, family sociology can be predicted on sole archaeological grounds. However, the evidence of relatively minor changes for the final occupation of the house, although not affecting the circulation pattern and network chart of the house, may mirror the change of ownership advocated in the texts (stairway leading to additional loci on the upper floor). This would suggest that it is not just variations in network chart morphology that may mirror a parallel change in family sociology but also relatively minor alterations in architectural features must not be overlooked as possible indicators of such a change. House E , TA, Nippur (Table 4.3) 1. Nonverbal messages The proxemic spacing tendency of this Model-1 house varies through time with the family history. The slight increase of the house accessibility value in the second phase as a consequence of the reshuffling of the dynamics of access from the outside (from the entrance room to the entrance courtyard), suggests a reduced affiliative/interactive dimension towards the outside world with respect to the other phases. Thus, there may be a constant decrease in tacit rules and conventions associated with daily life from I-III to the II phase, by imposing in the latter category more formalised barriers (physical, administrative and judicial barriers). As for the position of the single loci within the network, there is a shift in the circulation pattern determined by the temporary introduction of a new entrance courtyard 2 and the blockage of the original access in locus 1 during the second phase. In terms of social psychology, in the first and third phases the minimal segregation of the main living room 4 and storeroom 3 with respect to the outside and within the system points towards ‘approach-avoidance’, while the entrance 1 and the courtyard 2 suggest the interactive/affiliative dimension. The relative segregation of the storeroom may stress the importance of the family’s economic resources. As for the second phase, while the segregation of the main living room 4 remains constant, the stronger segregation of the special storeroom 1 (perhaps meant for special commodities) and the affiliative dimension towards the outside shown by the entrance courtyard 2 (where more space is invested in the construction of the interface with the outside world) may suggest commercial activities or business involving commodity circulation. The high integration of the space in which female activities seem to have a stronger impact (see chapter 3), namely the courtyard 2, may indicated that women have some kind of business control.

3. Conclusion (a) Also in this case the archaeological model for the identification of one residential space matches with the existence of one nuclear family and vertical succession (though interrupted by a change of ownership within the same extended family) throughout the two phases; (b) Though the change of ownership from IddinNinurta to Ekur-andul has not affected the residential patterning and the network chart, since the model of the nuclear family with limited business activities is retained by the late occupant (who, in addition, may also be related to IddinNinurta), some minor changes are nonetheless being charted by Ekur-andul’s family who owns the structure in its final period of occupation (a new bench in the entrance room 1, and the stairway in the courtyard 2); (c) The fact that House G is inhabited by the minor branches of the extended family previously residing in House H-G, and still inhabiting House K (square houses), would account for the presence of the main archives in the houses of the main branches (Houses H and K); (d) The presence of scribal activities, local scale business (field rentals, purchase and sale of real estate, temple connections) and relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (e.g. between Iddin-Ninurta’s and Ekur-andul’s family from House K) would match the interior-exterior orientation of these shallow charts, hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal relations with the outside world. Intersemiotic analysis shows corroboration or intersemiotic relation between verbal and nonverbal sign systems with small propositional, modal and semiotic opacity, and a consequent small indeterminacy and underdetermination on the scale of the directionality of language. Since all the main dynamics of family sociology evidenced by the texts, that is the presence of traders, small businessmen and property owners dealing with the trade of fields and real estate, as well as temple prebend-holders, have a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific morphological

2. Verbal messages Two tablets are found in the upper level XA, (a school tablet and the contract Text 60), while a hematite cylinder seal bearing the owner’s inscription (McCown and Haines 1967: Pl. 112:14) is recovered in level XB of the paved courtyard 2. House E was continuously occupied from about thirty years, from Samsu-iluna’s reign (1749– 1712 BC) to the final abandonment of Nippur in 1720 BC (Stone 1987: 70–1). In the first phase of the house 64

65

Low Accessibility R3 Storeroom R4 Main Living r.

High Accessibility R1 Entrance R2 Courtyard

Low Accessibility R1 Storeroom R4 Main Living r.

High Accessibility R2 Entrance court R3 Storeroom

Low Accessibility R3 Storeroom R4 Main Living r.

High Accessibility R1 Entrance R2 Courtyard

Accessibility & Control Indexes

0 0 0 0

C.I 0 0 0

A.I. 5-6 6 5

8 8 8 27

0 0 0 0

C.I. 0 0 0

0 0 0 0

C.I. 0 0 0

8-9 9 8 28

A.I. 5-6 5 6

8 8 8 27

A.I. 5-6 6 5

3

1

1

2

1

2

Street

4

Street

2

4

Street

4

3

3

Network Charts

Nonverbal meaning House Plans

PHASE III XA

PHASE II XB (Floor 1)

PHASE I XB (Floor 2)

? ▲ Apil-Adad (Sîn-imguranni) (1734 BC)

MaΒija

● MaΒija (1750-1740 BC)

▲ Sîn-erībam

Family Genealogy

Verbal meaning

Commercial: Local scale agreement for field cultivation Scribal

Commercial: Local scale dealer of commodities (sealing of goods) Temple agent?: nadītum priestess?

Residents’ activities

Table 4.3 House E, TA, Nippur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport between different sign systems and a relatively stronger heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic meanings.

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING history, (Level XB, Floor 2) the presence on the paved courtyard 2 of the inscribed seal bearing the date 1750 BC allows identification of MaΒija (the daughter of Sînerībam) as the seal owner. Since the findspot of this seal is reliable in that originates from a paved locus, this indicates that MaΒija is the house owner. Therefore, while her father Sîn-erībam inhabited the structure before 1750 BC (Level XB, Floor 2), MaΒija succeeded her father shortly afterwards (level XB, Floor 2). Since personal cylinder seals of this kind are not common and show the high social standing of the owner, it may be also possible that MaΒija is a nadītum priestess (Stone 1987:71). We know that such special categories of women carry out business transactions and own various kinds of property, including land and slaves and they have free disposition of this property (see below, CH §40). This evidence shows that MaΒija is probably a dealer in commodities (see cylinder seal) and a moneylender. Since this usually involves the lending of grain or silver or wool and textiles (presence of spindle whorls, loom weights in courtyard 2, near cylinder seal), or the borrowing of the same goods (see Nippur’s archive from nearby House N) she is a dealer and not simply a usurer (Stone 1987: 63, note 59). In the second phase of the house (XB, Floor 1), the change in the house network may be connected to the prestigious role and the kind of activities carried out by MaΒija. If MaΒija were an unmarried nadītum priestess, or a single woman of high status, the small size of her House E should not indicate poverty but might be connected to the small size of her family (Stone 1987: 71). Thus, in the first two phases, there appears to be a somewhat unusual pattern of vertical succession from a father, Sînerībam, to his daughter MaΒija, thereby suggesting a system of epiclerate, namely that of the ‘inheriting daughter’ possibly in the absence of male heirs (see below). In the final phase in 1734 BC (Level XA), a change of ownership may be postulated and this would be stressed by a parallel shift in the kind of activities carried out by the Apil-Adad family who is involved in the cultivation of fields and their management, scribal teaching, business and kinship ties with the residents of the nearby House N (Text 60) (Stone 1987: 71).

solidarity and relatively informal relations with the outside world; (c) The architectural change of house layout, network charts and accessibility values in phase II is reflected by a parallel shift in family sociology and types of activities reported in the texts: while the advent of the businesswoman MaΒija determines the introduction of an entrance courtyard 2 and the specialised storeroom 1 (for valuables?) to interface commodity circulation, the possible change of ownership from MaΒija to Apil-Adad and the consequent shift from the sealing and circulation of commodities to the simple dealings for field cultivation has determined a further change of circulation pattern; (d) While the particular kind of succession from father to daughter, namely epiclerate, may be only hypothesised archaeologically on the grounds of the presence in the entrance courtyard 2 (a ‘female’ space) of a cylinder seal associated with female business tools (spindle whorls, loom weights, for textile production), it can be unmistakably determined only by means of the textual evidence.

3. Conclusion (a) The existence of one single main actor for each phase indicates one simple family with succession from father to daughter (though interrupted by a later possible change of ownership in the III phase) and matches with the archaeological identification of one single living room; (b) The presence of local scale business (sealing of goods, temple connections, agreements on field cultivation), scribal activities, and relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (especially with nearby Houses N) suggests a close relationship between the House E residents (especially the late Apil-Adad’s family) and other residents of TA (who maintain close economic ties, some of which may reflect ties of kinship), thereby matching the interior-exterior orientation of these shallow charts, hinting at spatial

However, point (d) shows propositional, modal and semiotic opacity, that is a heterosemiotic relation between the sociology of the textual house and that of the archaeological house. If the nonverbal readings and chart morphology are brought to bear on the textual evidence, the latter does not corroborate them: archaeological and morphological analysis cannot unequivocally show epiclerate through the presence of female business tools in an entrance courtyard (a ‘female’ space), but textual evidence must be invoked. Although the presence of a businesswoman, possibly shown by the association of a cylinder seal with female textile tools, may take a chart morphology with an entrance courtyard, this pattern is not specific to female power since it also applies to male residents (see below, No. 3 Niche Lane at AH, Ur). Conversely, in both House E and No. 3 Niche Lane, the presence of a wellintegrated entrance courtyard has to do with commercial

The main foregoing points show that Model 1 houses such as House E are an example of corroboration or intersemiotic relation between verbal and nonverbal sign systems in commercial discourse with small propositional, modal and semiotic opacity, and a consequent small degree of indeterminacy and underdetermination. Since all the main dynamics of family sociology evidenced by the texts have thus a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific morphological features and accessibility values, family sociology can be predicted archaeologically. Likewise, also the possible change of ownership and shift of activities documented by the texts can be predicted on archaeological grounds because they have a clear morphological visibility. There is a decrease in tacit rules and conventions associated with daily life from I-III to the II phase, by imposing in the MaΒija’s occupation more formalised barriers (physical: stronger boundary with higher house accessibility value; textual: more complex business documents).

66

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE activities and the flow of commodities which may involve the sealing of various goods by both male and female actors. In this case this specific spatial morphology has a polysemous verbal meaning which may refer to different actors of a similar social status, thus possibly suggesting some kind of gender equality. This example shows that cultural traits such as gender roles are too abstract and global to be traceable directly in the spatial morphology. To see this linkage one must dismantle these traits in more concrete and potentially observable social expressions such as activities systems (female vs. male items) and their correlation in a web of additional circulation systems. This polysemy in space use means that within the internal level of Mesopotamian culture, propositional opacity between the sociology of the textual family and its referential, nonverbal meanings is present, owing to the different cultural ways in which Mesopotamian families employ the more symbolic verbal data (archival evidence of gender activities) to represent the nonverbal (uniform spatial sociology). When Mesopotamians associate language with portions of their world they follow flexible cultural instructions as to how to process linguistically nonverbal readings. The equality between men’s and women’s activities is so defined as an implicit deixis that is already directed to and concealed by a uniform spatial organisation. In this way, Mesopotamians’ cognitive grasp of the world and their linguistic competence are matched to produce meaning, despite the apparent dissonance between verbal (distinction between male and females) and nonverbal sign systems (uniform space). Consequently, also both axes of the directionality of language express indeterminacy and underdetermination with a relatively broader range of verbal readings (i.e. male and female actors) apt to represent the same spatial morphology. On the cross-cultural level, modal and semiotic opacity are also present for, looking at this single house morphologies in isolation, we would have not a clear understanding of the contextual associations between the ‘textual family’ and its nonverbal dimension. There is in fact no deterministic relation between chart variability and social dynamics but similar morphologies with the entrance courtyard are employed for different male and female actors strategically and contextually. Thus, we face some difficulties here when we try to interpret and so reconstruct Mesopotamian implicit deixis. Semiotic opacity also shows that we need to spend a good deal of interpretive labour on the nonverbal, quasi-perceptual reconstruction of appropriate backgrounds for this archive. By contrasting similarities and differences between linear houses occupied by male and female actors it is possible to account for the strategic use of the entrance courtyard as a specific response for dealing with a similar range of activities by both actors. Hence we accept semiotic opacity as an inevitable fact of meaning.

the introduction of the entrance courtyard 1 determines a sharp increase of accessibility value with a reduced affiliative dimension towards the outside. There may be a constant decrease in tacit rules and conventions associated with daily life from the first to the second phase, by imposing in the latter occupation more formalised barriers (stronger physical boundaries, administrative and judicial barriers). As for the position of the single loci in the network, in the first phase the minimal segregation of the main living room 5 and storeroom 2 with respect to the outside and within the system stresses ‘approach-avoidance’, while the entrance 4 and the courtyard 3 stress the interactive/affiliative dimension. The segregation of the storeroom 2 may emphasise the presence of important economic resources. The second phase of the house shows a relatively more structured distancing nonverbal coding in which the main living room 5 and storeroom 4 emphasise ‘approachavoidance’, while the affiliative dimension is invested in the construction of an expanded interface set of spaces (1, 2 and 3) with the outside world. The presence of such an extended interface space and the entrance courtyard may stress the presence of commercial activities (perhaps involving commodity circulation). 2. Verbal messages A group of 43 business documents are recovered here. In the first phase, the ‘son of Lamassatum’ is probably the house owner as suggested by the recovery of his inscribed cylinder seal in the courtyard 3 (Brusasco 2000: 155–6). This finding certainly points to the presence of a dealer in commodities, probably grain and silver, carried out on the local scale (see below). In the second phase, the archive of Dumuzi-gāmil shows that he is an important businessman active between 1796 BC (Rim-Sin 26), to 1787 BC (Rim-Sin 35). He acted as a moneylender, for fifteen documents record loans (1,030 grams of silver) supplied by him to different persons at the usual interest rate of 20%, to be repaid in one month (UET V, 347–354, 365) (Leemans 1955: 117–19). His broad business ties are also shown by a receipt of 144.4 grams of silver paid to the temple administration for which Dumuzi-gāmil works as an intermediary (Van de Mieroop 1992: 133). Even though Dumuzi-gāmil transacts such deals as a private ‘banker’, in some instances he also acts as an agent of the Nanna temple (UET V , 225, 226, 317, 363, 404, 405, 535, 798), and the palace (UET V, 226) (Oppenheim 1954: 9–10; Leemans 1955: 117–119). Dumuzi-gāmil organised also the production and delivery of large quantities of bread to various customers (the king, the temple administrations, private citizenry). He also received delivery of some of the goods mentioned in the texts (grinding stones, silver, wool, statues, barley, etc.). Another activity of Dumuzi-gāmil is to supply money as trading capital for oversees expeditions (see the clause má.kaskal.(ta). silim.ma.(bi), namely sana eunte nave) to be returned to him after the journey is completed (UET V, 313–315). Partnership contracts show that Dumuzi-gāmil acted also with money supplied to him by other persons (250 grams silver, UET V, 126, 361) who (i.e. Nūr-ilišu and Sîn-ašarid) were very important merchants (‘overseers’). Dumuzi-gāmil’s wife helped him

No. 3 Niche Lane, AH, Ur (Table 4.4) 1. Nonverbal messages While in the first occupation the shallower chart points to the interactive/affiliative dimension, in the second phase 67

68

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance court Low Accessibility R4 Storeroom R5 Main Living r.

High Accessibility R2 Passage R3 Courtyard

Low Accessibility R2 Storeroom R5 Main Living r.

High Accessibility R3 Courtyard R4 Entrance

Accessibility & Control Indexes

0 0 0 0 0

C.I. 0 0 0

A.I. 8-10 8 8

10 12 12 12 50

0 0 0 0

C.I. 0 0 0

8 8 8 27

A.I. 5-6 5 6

5

4

3

Street

1

2

3

Street

5

4

2

Network Charts

Nonverbal meaning

II PHASE

I PHASE

House Plans

Dumuzi-gāmil (and his wife) (1796-1787 BC)

▲

?

Son of Lamassatum (Larsa period)

▲

Lamassatum

▲

Family Genealogy

Verbal meaning

Commercial: Local scale money lending, dealer in commodities (barley for bread production and delivery, silver, wool, statues, oil) Large scale loans for oversees trade expeditions Temple/palace agent: bread production and delivery

Commercial: Local scale dealer in commodities (sealing of goods)

Residents’ Activities

Table 4.4 No. 3 Niche Lane, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a relatively stronger heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic meanings (power relations).

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE with his business for she received some payments from Šumi-abiya (UET V, 441). That Dumuzi-gāmil is a welloff person is certainly witnessed by both his profession of moneylender (see large amount of silver involved) and his public function in the temple/palace service, even though no private property is mentioned in his archive. As this social standing does not match the fact that he inhabits a very small house (34.04 sq. m), one may assume that he moved from No. 3 Niche Lane soon (the texts document his activities for 9 years only). While the genealogy thus reveals a nuclear family whose final stage is represented by Dumuzi-gāmil, the relation between Lamassatum’s son and Dumuzi-gāmil remains largely unknown. The fact they keep their archives together in the same house and share, to some extent, the same business activities may suggest a kinship relation possibly of father and son (Diakonoff 1985: 63).

formal) relations occupation).

(see

Dumuzi-gāmil’s

final

Intersemiotic translation shows little propositional opacity, modal and semiotic opacity, that is an intersemiotic rapport between verbal and nonverbal sign systems. All the main dynamics of family sociology evidenced by the texts, that is the presence of a businessman dealing with the local trade of commodities on the one hand, and the more official business affairs of the late occupant on the other, have thus a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific morphological features which can thus be retrieved by spatial analysis alone. However, point (e) shows an increasing propositional, modal and semiotic opacity, that is a heterosemiotic relation between the sociology of the textual house and that of the archaeological house. In fact, the Model 1 house has been defined as a residence of a nuclear family involved in local scale business and not international business and formal relations as is conversely the case for Dumuzi-gāmil’s occupation. A more subtle interpretation of verbal signs by means of their nonverbal referents accounts for such dissonance. In the II phase the relatively small residential part of the house is sacrificed to the interface space. The construction of an entrance courtyard of a particularly big size (the largest space in the house: 12.50 sq. m) with an additional passage 2 screening further the inside from the outside is a compromising solution for accommodating relations both on the local and international scale: while such entrance is not as structured as the theory of entrance spaces of the double court house in which only international relations are present (see below, No. 1 Old Street/3 Straight Street), it is certainly more complex and bigger than the entrance courtyard of House E (see above relatively lower accessibility value of entrance courtyard 2) which spatialises local relations and commodity circulation. The different sociology expressed by the texts of the two Model 1 houses No. 3 Niche Lane and House E and the complex house No. 1 Old Street/3 Straight Street can thus be assessed through their morphological variability. In No. 3 Niche Lane the simultaneous presence of local scale business such as bread production and delivery on the one hand, and long distance trade (maritime expeditions) with formal people (official merchants) on the other, requires a compromising solution in which the interior-exterior orientation of the structure is maintained to negotiate local relations, while at the same time providing a bigger interface space for dealing with the more official relations. It thus appears that different types of families adopt different strategic solutions for dealing with formal and informal relations according to the requirements of the single contexts. The dissonance shown above is a direct consequence of the complex and dual character of Dumuzi-gāmil’s activities and power relations: it is to neighbourly or spatial solidarity that Dumuzi-gāmil and his wife wish to conform but at the same not renouncing to the major benefits of other

3. Conclusion (a) The existence of one single main actor for each phase points to one nuclear family and vertical succession (though interrupted by a possible change of ownership in the II phase) throughout the house history and matches with the architectural identification of one single living room; (b) The presence of local scale business (dealing in commodities, sealing of goods, temple connections, local moneylending), and relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (especially with nearby houses for bread production and local lending of money) suggests a close relationship between this house residents and other residents of AH (who maintain close economic ties, which may also reflect kinship) and this would match the interior-exterior orientation of these shallow charts, hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal relations with the outside world; (c) The lack of female seclusion predicted on the grounds of the high integration of ‘female’ spaces (the courtyard and the main living room) matches the textual evidence of Dumuzi-gāmil’s wife business activities and this also shows how women of the merchant class may carry out business on behalf of their husband; (d) The architectural change of house layout, network charts and accessibility values in phase II is reflected by a parallel shift in the scale of activities reported by the texts: the succession from the son of Lamassatum to (his son?) Dumuzi-gāmil which marks a parallel increase in the scale and range of activities undertaken by the latter (from the local circulation of commodities to Dumuzi-gāmil’s large scale lending of money for oversees expeditions) has determined the introduction of the entrance courtyard 1 and additional passage 2 for interfacing the larger scale of commercial relations and the flow of commodities with the outside; (e) Nonverbal communication theory and network chart analysis of Model 1 houses have not succeeded in detecting the presence of large scale business (and 69

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING forms of solidarity involving economic and possibly also cultural exchange with more official people. This house type may represent the domestic space of the upward aspirer who invests both living space and everyday life in crossing the ‘class’ divide and to express aspirations towards an ascendent class of official businessmen, while not renouncing to express membership to his own original local background. This entails a mediation between Bernsteins’ positional and personal system.

additional living room 12 of 4–4a Paternoster Row (see Middle Accessibility), the chapel/main living room 3 of No. 8–10 Paternoster Row (see Middle Accessibility, and presence of archive), the chapel/main living room 3 of No. 12 Paternoster Row (see Middle Accessibility of locus 3) share a similar ‘approach-avoidance’ dimension; the least powerful family is that of No. 2 Bazaar Alley (see Low Accessibility of main living room 3 and archive 2). Although the residential spaces of No. 8–10 Paternoster Row and No. 12 Paternoster Row share a similar medium integration, only the former exerts major control over the business activities of this south sector (see presence of chapel 3 and archives in courtyard 2), while the presence of a separate chapel in No. 12 Paternoster Row points only to a relatively independent ancestral cult. In the final phase, while the higher accessibility value of the north house 4–4a suggests that it is more complex and powerful than the south unit, and this is followed by No. 8–10 Paternoster Row (second high accessibility value), the individual parameters of the residential spaces maintain the same order of the initial phase, thus showing similar power relations. The main living rooms of the single units are in a position of ‘visual dominance’.

This example shows that if morphological analysis is integrated with qualitative information about the investment of space made by the users in each context (here the nature of the big interface courtyard 1), it may address the criticism of being too deterministic and devoid of social penetration and privacy regulation (Lawrence 1990: 75). Although spaces such as entrance courtyards are equally segregated from the house network as a whole, they may express different sociological meanings in different house types and contexts. This illustrates that the meaning space use cannot be merely prescribed by deterministic associations between human activities as documented in the texts and house network charts. Yet, this is what was intended by the introduction in the II phase of more explicit regulatory factors such as more formalised physical barriers (entrance courtyard 1), as wells as textual barriers such as formal contracts (e.g. loans involving official people) with the consequent redefinition of the architecture of the internal spaces by these ‘textual’ barriers that have changed tacit rules.

2. Verbal messages The texts show the process whereby an extended family is fragmented into several separate branches and residences. From the courtyard 2 of No. 8–10 Paternoster Row originates some business documents spanning the period 1894 BC (Sumu-El 1) to 1788 BC (Rim-Sin 34) thereby covering at least three generations. While in No. 4–4a Paternoster Row only a few texts of the late house are found (chapel 5), another late archive of 21 tablets is located in No. 2 Bazaar Alley (courtyard 2 and living room 3) (Brusasco 2000: 157). The texts can be grouped into three main periods: those between 1894/1865 BC (Sumu-El 1 – Nur-Adad 1) belong to the initial phase, while the documents from 1835 BC to 1823 BC (СillīAdad 1 – Warad-Sin 11), and the tablets between 1826 BC and 1787 BC (Rim-Sin 5–34) probably originate from the second version of the building (Brusasco 2000: 156– 7). Although there are only slim connections between the early inhabitants and the late ones, the fact that most of these documents are found together on the same floor of No. 8–10 Paternoster Row, and thus constitute the same archive, would indicate some kind of lineal inheritance and succession (Van de Mieroop 1992: 155; Diakonoff 1985: 63). In the first phase, the earliest documents of No. 8–10 Paternoster Row show four individuals who are resident in the four south residences. One has Sîn-gamil’s family, Ilšu-muballiΓ’s (a neighbour of Sîn-gamil: UET V, 163, Sumu-El 1, 1894 BC), Šumi-abiya’s, and Šešìpad’s living respectively in Nos. 8–10 Paternoster Row (see correspondence between house area of 30 sq. m in UET 5 136 and actual house area), 12 Paternoster Row (see correspondence between house area of 24 sq. m in UET V, 163 and actual area), 1 and 2 Bazaar Alley. The persons concerned are probably the heads of related nuclear families and they may be brothers or cousins. Ilšu-muballiΓ is the most important actor since

No. 8–10 Paternoster Row AH, Ur (Tables 4.5a-c) 1. Nonverbal messages This complex structure is an anomalous one in that in the first phase Model 1 (linear residences Nos. 8–10 and 12 Paternoster Row, 1 and 2 Bazaar Alley) and Model 3 (No. 4–4a Paternoster Row, social inequality among the resident families) are linked to compose a complex residence. In the second phase, this complex is fragmented into its original components by blocking the doors between the north and the south units. In terms of social psychology, the higher interconnection among loci via rings of routes (see higher C. I.) and the higher accessibility value of the first phase emphasises the interactions among resident families and the ‘approachavoidance’ dimension towards the outside, while in the final phase the simpler and independent tree-like charts stress the affiliative dimension towards the outside and the independence of the single units. In the first phase, looking at the integration of the various cells within the system, that is the relations of inhabitants to each other, the Mehrabian ‘non-reciprocity’ principle applies here: the dominant family of the main living room 10 (No. 4– 4a Paternoster Row: see its strongest integrated position and connection to the main chapel 5 and archive 7) and its associates of No. 1 Bazaar Alley (see High Accessibility of the main living room 2 which is directly linked to the main house) control a larger and more important territory and stress the interactive/affiliative dimension, while the additional families inhabiting the 70

71

2-6 4 6 6 6 6 6 0 6 0 0 2 0 0 4

117-136 117 121 124 118 120 124 125 120 125 125 131 134 134 136 145-164 159 164 147 145 145 149 3735

Middle Accessibility RI Entrance (1 B. A.) R2 Courtyard (12 P. R.) R3 Chapel/Family room R2 Courtyard (8-10 P. R.) RIVa Entrance (4a P. R.) R3 Passage/Storeroom R3 Lavatory (4 P. R.) R9 Passage R11 Kitchen R12 Living room (bedstead) R3 Chapel/Family room R6 Storeroom (Archive) R7 Storeroom (Archive) R2 Courtyard (2 B. A.)

Low Accessibility RII Entrance (2 B. A.) R3 (Main) Living room RXII Entrance (12 P. R.) RVIII Entrance (8-10 P. R.) RX Entrance R8 Lavatory (4 P. R.)

4-6 4 0 6 6 6 6 123

C. I. 3-6 3 4 6 6 6 6 6 6 6 6

OVERALL A.I. AND C. I. A. I. High Accessibility 96-113 R2 (Main) Living room (1 B. A.) 109 R1 Courtyard 112 R2 Courtyard (4a P. R.) 109 R4 Service room 113 RIV Entrance (4 P. R.) 110 R2 Courtyard 96 R13 Stairway and passage 104 R4 Chapel/Family room 103 R5 Chapel/Family room 105 R10 Main Living room 111 2 1 I

3 2 II

3 XII

2

Street

X

2

3

3

viii

4

IV

4a

2

13

3

6

4

5

7

Table 4.5a Nonverbal sign messages from the extended family resident in Nos. 1, 2 Bazaar Alley, 8-10, 12, 4-4a Paternoster Row (I phase, AH, Ur).

2

11

10

9

8

12

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

1

I

2

II

X

2

3

viii

72

Low Accessibility R2 (Main) Living r.

High Accessibility RI Entrance R1 Courtyard

1 Bazaar Alley

Low Accessibility R3 (Main) Living r.

High Accessibility RII Entrance R2 Courtyard

6 6 14

A. I. 4-6 4 4

6 6 14

A. I. 4-6 4 4

Paternoster Row

2 Bazaar Alley

XII

2

3

4

IV

4a

2

0 0 0

C. I. 0 0 0

0 0 0

C. I. 0 0 0

3 13

3

6

4

5

7

10

12

A. I. 4-6 4 4

A. I. 5-6 6 6 5

Low Accessibility 8 R3 Chapel/Family room 8 25

High Accessibility RVIII Entrance RX Entrance R2 Courtyard

8-10 Paternoster Row

Low Accessibility 6 R3 Chapel/Family room 6 14

High Accessibility RXII Entrance R2 Courtyard

12 Paternoster Row

2

11

9

8

0 0 0

C. I. 1 1 1 1

0 0 0

C. I. 0 0 0

Low Accessibility R6 Storeroom (Archive) R7 Storeroom (Archive) R8 Lavatory R2 Courtyard (4a) R3 Storeroom (4a) R4 Service room (4a)

Middle Accessibility R9 Passage R11 Kitchen R12 Living room R13 Stairway IVa Entrance (4a) R3 Lavatory R5 Chapel/Family r.

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard RIV Entrance R10 Main Living room R4 Chapel/Family r.

4-4a Paternoster Row

Nonverbal sign messages from the related nuclear families resident in the linear houses Nos. 1, 2 Bazaar Alley, 8-10, 12, 4-4a Paternoster Row (II phase, AH, Ur).

Bazaar Alley

2

3

Table 4.5b

63-79 66 66 67 63 79 79 939

50-51 51 51 51 51 51 51 50

A. I. 35-43 35 41 44 43

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 5

0-1 1 0 0 0 0 0 1

C. I. 0-1 1 0 1 1

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING

House Plans

Nonverbal meaning

8-10 P. R. ▲ Sîn-gamil (1894 BC) ▲ Šara-pada (1865 BC)

Extended family (I Phase) 12 P. R. 1 Bazaar A. 2 Bazaar A. ▲ ▲ ▲ Ilšu-muballiΓ Šumi-abiya Šeš-ìpad (1894 BC) (1886 BC) (1885 BC)

73

▲ ▲ Dadā Šat-Ea (1789 BC)

▲ Imlikum (1817-1788 BC)

▲ Sîn-bel-apli

▲ Attāia (1789 BC)

▲ Ilšu-muballiΓ (1802 BC)

▲ Ilum-ereš (1835-1823 BC)

Ibašši-ilī (up to 1835 BC)

▲

▲ Ili-iddinam

▲ Ana-Sîn-wuššur (1805-1760 BC)

▲ Adad-bāni (1825-1797 BC)

▲ Puzur-Damu (1837-1827 BC)

4-4a Extended Family and Southern (Related) Nuclear Families (II Phase)

4-4a P. R.

Family Genealogy

Verbal meaning

Commercial Local scale but official 4-4a P. R.: temple grain loan; Local scale grain loan from Dadā to P. R. residents, bread production, Local scale – 8-10 P. R.: adoption, inheritance of temple office and house, witnessing, field rentals, real estate and wool purchase, silver lending, accounting, boat hiring; – 12 P. R.: house rentals, boat hiring, inheritance, dowry, accounting, boat gifts; – 1, 2 Bazaar Alley: boat hiring, trade, debtors and field leaseholding; Temple agents: gúda priest (Ibašši-ilī, Ilšu-muballiΓ jr).

Commercial - Local scale – 8-10, 12 Paternoster Row: purchase and sale of real estate, bread production; – 1, 2 Bazaar Alley: slave buying.

Residents’ Activities

Table 4.5c Nos. 1, 2 Bazaar Alley, 8-10, 12, 4-4a Paternoster Row, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport and a relatively strong heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic meanings (power relations).

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING he controls the main archive of the south units, the chapel, and possibly also temple offices and real estate (see his descendant’s text UET V, 274: Rim-Sin 21, 1801 BC), while Sîn-gamil has his own chapel but no archives. By contrast, Šumi-abiya and Šeš-ìpad have much smaller residences and one slave each (UET V, 185, Sumu-El 8, 1886 BC; UET V, 190, Sumu-El 9, 1885 BC). Indirect evidence from the final occupation of the dominant branch of the household (No. 4 Paternoster Row) may suggest that this branch is already the most powerful one (see below).

group (only witnesses for Imlikum UET V, 76) probably reside with some of their well-to-do partners (or even somewhere else). In these same houses or in other relatively small houses of the neighbourhood may live some of the dependent persons (persons with a anomalous legal status: women without a family, men with a matronymic, unmarried men called ‘son of a harlot’, etc.); like Ludlul-Sîn and his sister, who always appear as witnesses and/or debtors of the former group; these impoverished persons, no doubt, needed the patronage of their well-to-do neighbours and/or kinsmen (Diakonoff 1985: 54–55). The attribution of No. 2 Bazaar Alley to Ana-Sîn-wuššur is based on the archive from this house which shows that, despite Ana-Sîn-wuššur is the eldest brother of the ‘Imlikum group’, he belongs to an impoverished branch of the family (he is a debtor, UET V, 342, Rim-Sin 18, 1805 BC, UET 5 8, 1780–1760 BC, Diakonoff 1985: 59). Also his predecessors Adadbāni (UET 5 309, Rim-Sin 26, 1797 BC) and PuzurDamu (Adad-bāni’s father or the uncle) are mentioned as debtors (UET 5 386). This poor family shows some connection with its rural background: the family rents fields from groups of 8–12 men who certainly represent rural extended families possibly related to their leaseholders (UET 5 205, Sin-iqišam 4, 1837 BC, Diakonoff 1985: 56). Moreover, in No. 4–4a Paternoster Row Dadā and Šat-Ea were the actual inhabitants of the house (Brusasco 2000: 157–8, UET V, 384, Rim-Sin 33, 1789 BC). Dadā is connected to the south branches for he occurs in No. 8–10 Paternoster Row’s archive (UET V, 385) and acts as moneylender to Dukka and Nabi-Sîn, two debtors related to the inhabitants of the south units. That Dadā and Šat-Ea represent the most important branch of this extended family is suggested by their having important economic connections with the temple and the palace (receiver of loan from the Šamaš temple and Warad-Sin), while Dadā is the most prominent actor of the entire family as is suggested by the presence of his deeds also in No. 8–10 Paternoster Row’s archive in which he acts as moneylender. The total number of persons of the last occupation of this extended family may be estimated on the grounds of the usual medium size of each resident nuclear family reported in this archive (1 adult man, 1 adult woman, and 1 or two children) about 24 people in all (2 resident families in No. 4–4a Paternoster Row, and 1 nuclear family for each of the remaining houses), plus some slaves (at least 2 in Nos. 1 and 2 Bazaar Alley).

As to the second period of occupation, the complex is fragmented into several smaller houses which are probably related nuclear family structures. Between 1835 and 1824 BC while No. 8–10 Paternoster Row is first inhabited by the (gúda and pašīšum) priest Ibašši-ilī and his wife Ningal-rēmet, and later by his adopted son Sînbel-apli who inherited the office of pašīšum in the Eanna temple, the house and other premises (UET V, 90, СillīAdad 1, 1835 BC; UET V, 92, Warad-Sin 11, 1823 BC). Ibašši-ilī’s brother (or cousin) and partner, the businessman Ilum-ēreš inhabits the nearby house No. 12 Paternoster Row and engages in upstream trade on the Euphrates, house rental, and witnessing for his brother (UET V, 224: Warad-Sin 5, 1829 BC; UET V, 204), while his successor Ilšu-muballiΓ junior is a priest (U.16827, UET 5 274: 1802 BC, Rim-Sin 21). In the very final stage of the occupation (1830–1789 BC), a large number of men appear in the texts, often in partnership for various business transactions. Since they are the addressees of a letter from Nanna-mansum and his wife at least some of them resided in the south units Nos. 8–10, 12 Paternoster Row, and 1, 2 Bazaar Alley (UET V, 76). The fact that they all keep their archives together and are witnesses for each other points to their being all kinsmen, namely brothers or cousins, like the Assyrian businessmen of Assur at Kaniš (Diakonoff 1985: 63–64). This group can also be called the ‘Imlikum group’ after the most prominent member. His wife, NuΓuptum, was a businesswoman too, for she corresponds with her husbands about expenses she has incurred for the purchase of wool and her income (UET V, 34) and this shows how women of the merchant class generally carry out business on behalf of their husband, especially when they are away for business (Barber 1994: 173–174). There appear four related main persons with close business ties. As Imlikum is the most prominent individual within this group (field rental, UET V, 207, purchase of real estate, UET V, 150, lending of silver, UET V, 321, 356, witnessing his partners’ documents, UET V, 271, 310, 346, adoption of a weaned baby, UET V, 93) he probably resides in No. 8–10 Paternoster Row where his archive was found. Attāia who is the second important man in the ‘firm’ (he has a boat and is involved in accounting, UET V, 8, UET V, 271) resides in No. 12 Paternoster Row (the second largest house in this block), Ana-Sîn-wuššur (involved in accounting, UET V, 8) and Ili-iddinam (hired a boat for a voyage, UET V, 228) in Nos. 2 and 1 Bazaar Alley respectively, while Abūni and Šagiš-abūšu who are the least important members of the

Finally, this house shows the fragmentation of a complex extended household respectively into four nuclear families and one extended family which occupy the same structure, now sub-divided into corresponding sub-units. One is dealing here with an initial stage of fragmentation: the fact that the new nuclear families of the south linear units keep their archives together and probably worship some common ancestors as well as their having close ties with the north-sector family points to the persistent strength of broad family ties (and communal ownership of land: U.17249, UET V, 211, Rim-Sin 23, 1799 BC), despite the material subdivision into different structures. The textual evidence thus suggests the presence of an 74

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE extended family whose members act as businessmen, usurers, and traders who own their houses and movable property individually, but land collectively, and have asymmetric power relations.

respectively in Nos. 8–10, 12 and 1, 2 Bazaar Alley, is spatialised by the different morphologies of the charts: owing to the presence of a stronger interface space between inside and outer world (the double entrance VIII and X), Imilkum’s chart of No. 8-10 Paternoster Row is relatively more structured (see higher accessibility value) than that of the other linear houses, while the presence of the chapels in Nos. 8– 10 and 12 Paternoster Row indicates more powerful families; (g) For the external relations, the passage from the ‘approach-avoidance’ dimension of the first occupation to the stronger affiliative dimension towards the outside world of the final phase, postulated on the grounds of deeper and shallower chart morphologies respectively, is supported by the textual evidence of increased business interactions with the outer world in the final occupation; (h) The lack of female seclusion predicted on the grounds of the high integration of ‘female’ spaces such as the courtyards and the main living rooms matches the textual evidence of female active role in business (the activities of Imlikum’s wife involving the purchase of wool and a personal income); since Imlikum is the most powerful actor of the south branch of the extended family, probably women belonging to his house, No. 8–10 Paternoster Row, were more powerful than those of the other units; (i) The presence of slavery correlates with the smaller and relatively more segregated houses Nos. 1, 2 Bazaar Alley.

3. Conclusion (a) In the first phase, textual evidence of four single main actors, Ilšu-muballiΓ, Sîn-gamil, Šumi-abiya, and Šešìpad, confirms the postulated presence of four related nuclear families residing in the south sector in that matching the archaeological identification of four residential spaces; inferences from the late occupation of the 4–4a sector in which there are two main actors would match the identification of two main residential spaces; (b) In the second phase, the textual evidence of vertical inheritance and patrilinear succession with six main actors, Dadā and Šat-Ea, Imlikum, Attāia, Ili-iddinam and Ana-Sîn-wuššur, confirms the postulated presence of one extended family inhabiting No. 4–4a Paternoster Row (Dadā’s and Šat-Ea’s families) and four related nuclear families residing in the south units respectively; this would also support the archaeological model for the identification of residential spaces, etc.; (c) In the first phase, textual evidence of an extended family with local scale business and social inequality among the resident families matches the shallow morphology of the chart and the asymmetric integration of the single residential spaces: the moderate inequality between Ilšu-muballiΓ (No. 8–10 Paternoster Row) and his neighbour Sîn-gamil (No. 12 Paternoster Row) fits with the medium integration values of their residential spaces (3 and 3); the less powerful position of Šeš-ìpad (No. 2 Bazaar Alley) and Šumi-abiya (No. 1 Bazaar Alley) is supported respectively by the most segregated position of Šešìpad’s residential space 3 and the most integrated location of Šumi-abiya’s living room 2 which is meant to serve the dominant north sector 4–4a; (d) In the final phase, textual evidence supports the emergence of Model 3 of social inequality among the resident families of No. 4–4a Paternoster Row: the presence of a main actor Dadā (he has economic and official ties with the temple and palace), and a minor one, Šat-Ea, matches the model of social inequality among resident families hypothesised by nonverbal sign analysis on the grounds of a major degree of integration of the main living room 10 (Dadā’s residence) with respect to the secondary living room 12 (Šat-Ea’s residence); (e) That Dadā’s activities are more official (see dealings with the temple and palace) than that of the families residing in the south units and that he dominates also the south sector (the south families are indebted to him) is supported by the complex morphological configuration of Model 3 houses (high accessibility value) with respect to the simple charts of Model 1 houses; (f) In the final phase, the textual inequality among Imlikum, Attāia, Ili-iddinam and Ana-Sîn-wuššur, the heads of individual nuclear families residing

All the main dynamics of family sociology evidenced by the texts, that is the different power relations among the resident families, have thus a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific morphological features and accessibility values, thereby stressing intersemiotic corroboration between verbal and nonverbal sign systems and little propositional opacity between the textual family and the sociology reconstructed by nonverbal analysis. However, modal and semiotic opacity are present as regards power relations among the resident families. In the initial phase, it is clear that, in a complex structure such as this, boundaries have not all the same meaning and they are not just created physically but may be characterised by the investment of different types of spaces ordered by symbolic parameters which are transient in kind and are expressed by texts. This explains why the stronger integration of the residential space 2 of No. 1 Bazaar Alley with respect to the remainders does not hint at a more powerful family which controls a larger territory, but conversely suggests an integration towards the main dominant 4–4a sector, thus implying some kind of dependence (see textual presence of a slave). Moreover, since similar accessibility values may hide different power relations, these can be detected only if the main functions of the spaces concerned are taken into account: though the texts of the initial occupation show only some moderate inequality between Sîn-gamil (No. 8–10 Paternoster Row), and his neighbour Ilšu-muballiΓ 75

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING (No. 12 Paternoster Row) thereby matching the medium integration values of their residential spaces, the more subtle asymmetric power relations between such actors can be predicted only by considering the presence of both chapel and archives in No 8–10 Paternoster Row but the absence of the latter in No. 12 Paternoster Row. Texts are in this latter case mute about subtle social inequality, while possible hidden tensions among resident families are more easily accommodated (and detectable archaeologically) through the strategic positioning of symbolic loci. Likewise, we may predict the asymmetrical power relations among the late resident families only if different chart morphologies are compared with one another (and not examined in isolation) and these are integrated with qualitative analysis of the kind of spaces involved.

for the digging of canals (UET V, 721, 722, 730, 731). He carried out at least part of this work in the service of the temple of Nanna (see his name ‘temple, great place’ in his seal inscription UET V, 545). School tablets show the presence of scribal activities (UET V, 882, 873, UET VI, 54, 170) carried out by Ekigalla (identified as scribe in the same seal inscription). In the II phase there is a passage of property from Ekigalla to Ur-ešbanda. The fact that the tablets of both individuals are recovered on the same clay floor, the absence of a sale document, and the deep-sea fishing carried out by both individual suggest a vertical succession (probably of father and son). Towards the end of this phase, Ur-ešbanda’s elder son Bulâlum inherits the house as he is the owner of an offering bowl for the cult devoted to his father, while he receives, together with his two brothers, additional property in Ur or in other cities (see inheritance text UET V, 109, 1814 BC). He is mainly involved in deep see fishing (see má.gur8 boats in UET V, 109).

Nuclear Families: Model-2 houses No. 5 Quiet Street, EM, Ur (Table 4.6) 1. Nonverbal messages This house belongs to Model 2, type a, which stresses spatial solidarity and an affiliative dimension between residents and visitors and among residents. In terms of social psychology, while the first phase of the house shows a relatively stronger affiliative dimension towards the outside world (smaller accessibility value), in the final two occupations, owing to the introduction of the entrance suite 7–8 (II phase) and the blocking of the external door of such a suite (III phase), the ‘approachavoidance’ dimension prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms. Internally, while the similar integration of the main living room 4 and chapel 6 as well as the other spaces round the courtyard 2 suggests a similar affiliative dimension, in the entrance suite 7–8 and its conversion into the late service area 7–8 the ‘approachavoidance’ component prevails. The main living room 4 which faces the entrance is in a position of ‘visual dominance’. While the segregated position of the service room 7 (III phase) may hint at specialised storage and circulation of valuable commodities, the segregated position of the entrance suite 7–8 (II phase) and its orientation towards the outside suggests that it is meant for dealing with relatively more official visitors. Thus, the presence of specialised loci (storage and entrance suite) stressing the ‘approach-avoidance’ component suggests that space is organised by more explicit rules and more formal barriers both physical (specialised entrance suite and service room 7) and possibly also verbal (administrative, judicial, etc.).

In the III phase, the house is inhabited by Šamaš-nāΒir, ‘the keeper of the seal’ (kišibgallum), a high temple administrator who makes his first appearance in 1768 BC (UET V, 191) and is probably Bulâlum’s son (see presence of the archives of both persons in situ in room 6). The activities of such a person identify him as a priest administrator and a prebendary: the prebend of pašīšum (‘anointed’) entitled him to some assets in the form of various goods (bread, UET V, 586, 1740 BC), while in his office of temple administrator he executed the payment of 1 shekel of silver to different people (UET V, 536, 1740 BC). The few texts recovered in Šamaš-nāΒir’s house may represent the temple administrative documents which he may have kept at home, while the remainder may have been stored in his work place (for this pattern see also evidence from Nippur, House E of Ku-Nanna in TB at Nippur, McCown 1967: 148–49). He is certainly the house owner at the very end of the period when the house and the archives are burnt by a fire (1740 BC). 3. Conclusions (a) The presence of one single actor for each phase indicates one simple family and succession from father to son (though possibly interrupted by a change of ownership in the second and third phases) throughout the house history and matches with the archaeological identification of the single living room 4; (b) The presence of local scale business (e.g. commodity circulation; organisation of workers, boat and skipper hiring, scribal activities and temple ties, deep-sea fishing; temple administration with payment of silver, and receiving temple assets such as bread) and relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (e.g. transaction of é-dù-a property between Ur-ešbanda’s sons and their neighbour Ku-Ningal in UET V, 123 from No. 7 Quiet Street, commodity circulation of fish, bread and beer with local houses) suggests a close relationship between the No. 5 Quiet Street residents and other residents of EM and Ur in general (who maintain close economic ties which may reflect ties of kinship)

2. Verbal messages Twenty-one business documents shed light on the history of the house for about a century and a half, namely from 1895 to 1740 BC (Brusasco 2000: 152). All the texts originate from the upper clay floor of the domestic chapel 6 (Table 4.6: II-III phases). The earliest known occupant is Ekigalla, son of Ur-Ninazu, who first appears (Abisare 11, 1895 BC) as receiver of some grain in the II phase of the house (UET V, 442). His business activities are quite broad as they range from the hire of boats and skippers (UET V, 223), the delivery of fish, bread, and beer (UET V, 411, 586, 592) to the organisation of gangs of workers 76

77

13-15 13 15 14 14 13

19 19 97

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Service r. R4 (Main) living r. R6 Chapel R8 Service r.

Low Accessibility R7 Service, store r.

93

9 9

6

17 17

Low Accessibility R7 Entrance suite

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard

0 0

13-15 13 15 14 14

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Service, store r. R4 (Main) living r. R6 Chapel

0 0 3

0-1 0 0 1 1 0

1 1

0-1 1 0 1 1

1-2 2 1

9-11 9 11

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard R8 Entrance

1 1 1 1 1 3

C.I. 2 2

8-9 8 8 9 9 40

A.I. 6 6

Low Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Entrance R4 (Main) living r. R6 Chapel

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard

3

1

3 2

4

1

2

6

6

3

Street

4

8

Street

2

Street

1

4

7

6

Network Charts

Nonverbal meaning

8

7

III PHASE

II PHASE

I PHASE

House Plans

▲ Šamaš-nāΒir (1768-1740 BC)

?

▲ Bulâlum (1814 BC)

? ▲ Ur-ešbanda

▲ Ekigalla (1895-1866 BC)

Ur-Ninazu

▲

Family Genealogy

No. 5 Quiet Street, EM, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport.

Accessibility, Control Indexes

Table 4.6

Temple agent: priest administrator, that is ‘the keeper of the seal’ (kišibgallum), involving payment of silver; prebendary, namely holding the prebend of pašīšum (‘anointed’) and assets consisting of goods (bread, etc.).

Commercial: Local scale receiving of grain, boat, skipper hiring, fish, bread, and beer delivery, organisation of workers for the digging of canals (Ekigalla); inheritance of real estate, boats for deep-sea fishing (Ur-ešbanda and Bulâlum), Temple agent: seal inscription (Ekigalla), Scribal: scribal seal, school tablets (Ekigalla)

Residents’ activities

Verbal meaning

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING and this would match the interior-exterior orientation of these shallow charts, hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal and affiliative relations with the outside world; (c) The architectural change of house layout, network charts and accessibility values in phases II and III is reflected by a parallel shift in the scale of activities reported by the texts: while the broad range of business activities of Ekigalla and his successors Urešbanda and Bulâlum (i.e. scribal teaching, temple ties, commodity circulation and local trade, deep-sea fishing and property-holdings) has determined the introduction of the specialised entrance suite 7–8, the shift of emphasis from private business activities to administrative ones carried out by the last occupant, the temple administrator Šamaš-nāΒir, correlates with its conversion into the segregated suite 7–8 for the storage of valuable commodities; (d) Corollary to this is that there is a correlation between the presence of a separate entrance suite and the kinds of activities undertaken by the actors concerned: despite they all act both as private merchants and temple administrators, the entrance suite is present only when the private affairs and property holdings prevail (II phase) over the administrative activities connected to the temple (III phase); (e) In the second and third phases, the stronger formality and ‘approach-avoidance’ attitudes towards the outer world determined by the introduction of the secondary entrance suite 7–8 or the specialised storage match a parallel increase in judicial and written ‘barriers’ either in the form of inheritance documents (Bulâlum’s inheritance text) or contractual undertakings and administrative texts (Šamaš-nāΒir’s texts).

8–10, 12 Paternoster Row and 1, 2 Bazaar Alley at Ur without their showing the presence of any structured entrance suite, such activities are carried out always within the same circle of related persons (the Imlikum ‘firm’). There is no evidence, in fact, that the residents of No. 5 Quiet Street and the majority of their business interlocutors are related for they do not keep their archives together and they do not witness each other transactions. Although one is always dealing here with Bernstein’s personal system of relations, this is not so restricted and limited to kinship ties as in the related nuclear families of the linear houses. It may be also possible to envisage a stage in between the personal and positional systems, with some business interlocutors who can also be considered as clients, though also sharing positions of friendship and neighbourly acquaintance. No. 7 Quiet Street, EM, Ur (Table 4.7) 1. Nonverbal messages This house belongs to Model 2, type b-e, which stresses spatial solidarity and a relatively less affiliative dimension between residents and visitors and among the residents themselves for the control of business and rituals of the chapel. In terms of social psychology, owing to the conversion of the storage-service area into the expanded entrance suite 9–8–3, the relatively higher segregation from the outside world of the initial phase stresses the ‘approach-avoidance’ component, while in the final occupation the stronger integration of the structure with the outside emphasises the interactive/affiliative dimension. This affiliative dimension also entails the presence of less formalised barriers, both physical and textual (weaker physical boundaries, and less judicial and administrative texts). Internally, while the most integrated position of the main living room 4 and the courtyard 2 stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension, in the chapel 5, the archive rooms 6–7, and the service area 3–8–9 or its late entrance suite conversion, the ‘approach-avoidance’ component prevails. The main living room 4 is in a position of ‘visual dominance’ at the furthest end of the court facing the entrance. The family residing in the main living room 4 controls the visitors’ access to the chapel and thus retains more power than in the Model 2, sub-type a-b of No. 5 Quiet Street where the chapel is directly accessible from the courtyard.

All the main dynamics of family sociology evidenced by the texts, that is the increase in activity scale and the shift among diverse types of activities, take specific morphological features and accessibility values which are retrievable in the archaeological record, thereby stressing an intersemiotic rapport between verbal and nonverbal sign systems and small propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. As regards the introduction in this house Model 2 of an entrance suite (7–8), a type of space never documented for the linear houses, the following two different, and interrelated social features determine its construction: the range of activities involved and the degree to which they are oriented towards the local scale. While the Model 1 linear houses display a more limited set of activities ranging from the rental and sale of fields and empty lots to occasional moneylending, scribal teaching and commodity circulation and such activities are mainly carried out informally within the same extended family circle (e.g. with the major branches of the family residing in nearby Houses K, I), Model 2 residences such as No. 5 Quiet Street have a remarkably broader range of activities and these are undertaken mainly outside the family thus requiring such specialised area. Although a similar wide range of activities is also present in the linear houses Nos.

2. Verbal messages The texts come from the early brick pavement and the later clay floor of chapel 5 and archive room 6, while some tablets also originate from the archive room 7 (Brusasco 2000: 152–154). The family cycle of the house spans the period between 1829 and 1739 BC, thus covering nearly a hundred years of the family history, namely four generations. In the I phase, the earlier archive (1829–1821 BC, Warad-Sin 6 – Rim-Sin 2) of Ur-Nanna (son of Ku-Ningal) identifies him as an ‘archivist’ (šandabakkum) of the Nanna temple (UET V, 612) (Charpin 1986: 47–8). He is an important person within the Nanna temple organisation since he receives business letters from the kings Kudur-Mabuk and Rim-Sin (for the golden plating of the statue of the entum of Nanna, UET V, 75, 36). He is also involved in the temple management 78

21-23 0 23 0 23 0

21

29-31 0 29 0

31 31 29 223

17-19 17 19 19

21-23 25 27 23 27

29-31 31 31 219

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R5 Chapel

R9 Service room

Low Accessibility R3 Storeroom

R6 Archive room R7 Archive room R8 Storeroom

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard R4 (Main) living r. R9 Entrance

79

Middle Accessibility R1 Storeroom R3 Entrance suite R5 Chapel R8 Entrance suite

Low Accessibility R6 Archive room R7 Archive room

0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0

0

17-19 0 17 0 19 0

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard R4 (Main) living r.

Accessibility, Control Indexes

3

8

8

6

9

3

Street

9

2

4

5

7

Street

1

2

6

4

5

Network Charts

Nonverbal meaning

1

7

II PHASE

I PHASE

House Plans

Verbal meaning

▲ Ešuluhuru (and Enamtisud) (1787-179 BC)

Ku-Ningal (1821-1788 BC)

▲ Ku-Ningal

▲ Ur-Nanna (1829-1821 BC)

Ku-Ningal

▲

Family Genealogy

Table 4.7 No. 7 Quiet Street, EM, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport.

Commercial: Local scale real estate exchange and construction of a common wall with neighbours, lawsuit for ownership of real estate at Ur, purchase of orchards, daughter’s dowry (Ku-Ningal), real estate and slave exchange (Ešuluhuru and Enamtisud) Temple agent: ‘cleanser’ priests (abriqqum) (Ku-Ningal, Ešuluhuru and Enamtisud), temple revenues (usufruct of palace/temple fields) (Ešuluhuru and Enamtisud), Scribal: school and literary texts (Ku-Ningal and the sons Ešuluhuru and Enamtisud).

Temple agent: priest administrator, ‘archivist’ (gudapsûm, šandabakkum), management of herds, distribution of fields, temple revenues (temple tithe, grain as rent), official letters from two kings (Ur-Nanna), Scribal: school tablets (Ur-Nanna)

Residents’ activities

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING of herds, and the distribution to different (temple?) persons of arable fields (UET V, 50, 612). Scribal activities are shown by the presence of a few school exercises (room 5–6: UET VI, 26, 262; room 7: UET VI, 114, UET I, 302) (Charpin 1986: 47, 49). There is only indirect evidence of his revenues and no evidence of property holding (tithe for the organisation of herds, and grain as rent, UET V, 27). The lack of private business documents can be explained by the fact that he is solely involved in temple administration (like Šamaš-nāΒir in No. 5 Quiet Street). Towards the end of the I phase and the beginning of the II phase, Ur-Nanna’s son Ku-Ningal succeeds to his father (Rim-Sin 34, UET V, 191). KuNingal’s social standing is indicated by his function as an abriqqum, that is a ‘cleanser’ priest of the Nanna temple. He is also a property holder (he exchanges real estate with neighbours, the sons of Ur-ešbanda, UET V, 123, UET V, 236, in a lawsuit he claims ownership of é-dù-a UET V, 249, orchards, UET V, 140, 179, 272). The list of expenses incurred by Ku-Ningal for the marriage of his daughter with a man from Larsa suggests that patrilocal residence was the pattern at Old Babylonian Ur. A ritual of domum deductio began with the formal taking of the bride from her old house at Ur and ended with her entry into her new house at Larsa (Greengus 1966: 71). The final stage in the family cycle is that represented by the two elder sons (and twin brothers) of Ku-Ningal, Ešuluhuru and Enamtisud, who inhabited the house from 1787 BC (UET V, 124) (Charpin 1986: 90–91). They inherited from their father the function of abriqqum of Enki (UET V, 359), and also retained the usufruct of palace and temple fields (UET V, 35, 212, 213, 215, 883). Ku-Ningal and his sons kept one slave in their residence who was subsequently freed by the family (UET V, 191). The last attested document of 1739 BC (the Ur sack by Samsu-iluna) shows that only Enamtisud was inhabiting the house, while his brother died earlier (UET V, 128). Forty school and literary texts of the period of Ku-Ningal and his sons show that there existed private scribal schools (eduba) and libraries where children belonging to those priestly families were trained in different subjects (Charpin 1986: 420–434).

orientation of these shallow charts, hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal and affiliative relations with the outside world; (c) The architectural change (in the II phase) of house layout, network chart and consequent reduction of accessibility value due to the conversion of the expanded service-storage suite 9–8–3 into the corresponding entrance suite is reflected by a parallel shift in the kinds of activities reported by the texts: while the administrative activities of the priestarchivist Ur-Nanna (carried out mainly in the Nanna temple) and the presence of temple revenues in various forms of goods (e.g. grain paid in the house as a rent in UET 5, 27) account for the existence of the expanded service-storage suite 9–8–3, during KuNingal’s and his two elder sons’ occupation the primarily private character of their business activities (recording of some property-holding: dowry, real estate ownership, private commercial activities, and a less prominent function within the temple organisation) requires the introduction of an entrance suite to interface interior-exterior relations; more formal barriers both physical (secluded storage space) and also verbal (administrative texts) are thus characteristic of the sociology of the house phase where administrative activities prevail, while less formalised barriers (business texts but not administrative ones) and more informal and interactive morphologies are appropriated by actors whose activities are also extended to the private sphere; (d) Corollary to this is that the entrance suite is extent only when (private) local scale business not exclusively limited to the family kinship (as in linear houses) and property holdings prevail (II phase) over the activities connected to the temple (I phase); (e) The markedly higher social standing of No. 7 Quiet Street’s residents (very important temple administrators as well as private entrepreneurs who correspond directly with the king) with respect to No. 5 Quiet Street’s residents (only Šamaš-nāΒir has an important role in the temple organisation) matches with the more hierarchical sociology postulated for sub-type c-e, No. No. 7 Quiet Street, on the grounds of the deeper tree-like chart and the asymmetric integration of chapel and main living room.

3. Conclusions (a) The existence of one single actor for each phase suggests one nuclear family and vertical succession, thus matching with the archaeological identification of the single living room 4; (b) The presence of local scale business (e.g. administrative activities: management of herds, distribution of fields, scribal teaching; commercial activities: real estate exchange and construction of a common wall with neighbours, purchase of orchards) and relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (e.g. transaction of é-dù-a property between Ur-ešbanda's sons and their neighbour Ku-Ningal from No. 7 Quiet Street, and construction of a common wall with neighbours) throughout the house history suggests a close relationship between the No. 7 Quiet Street residents and other residents of EM and Ur in general (who maintain close economic ties which may reflect ties of kinship) and this would match the interior-exterior

Intersemiotic analysis shows that the main dynamics of family sociology evidenced by the texts take specific morphological features and accessibility values which are retrievable in the archaeological record, thereby stressing an intersemiotic rapport between verbal and nonverbal sign systems and small opacity. No. 15 Church Lane, AH, Ur (Table 4.8) 1. Nonverbal messages This house belongs to Model 2, type b-e. In terms of social psychology, the relatively higher segregation from the outside world of the initial phase stresses the ‘approach-avoidance’ component, while in the final occupation, owing to the opening of the private entrance sector 7–8, the stronger integration of the structure with the outside emphasises the interactive/affiliative dimension. 80

29 29 29 192

15-17 17 18 15

19-22 20 22 21 19

25-29 25 29 186

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard R4 Passage/Lavatory R5 (Main) living r.

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Entrance suite R6 Chapel R7 Passage

Low Accessibility R8 Entrance R9 Archive room

20-22 20 22 21 21

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Entrance suite R6 Chapel R7 Passage

Low Accessibility R8 Service room R9 Archive room

A.I. 15-17 17 18 15

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard R4 Passage/Lavatory R5 (Main) living r.

81

0-2 2 0 6

0-5 5 3 0 2

3-4 4 3 4

0 0 0 3

0-3 3 2 0 0

C.I. 2-3 3 2 2

4

4

9

1

2

5

Street

Street

1

6

7

6

2

8

9

5 3

3

Network Charts

Nonverbal meaning

8

7

II PHASE

I PHASE

House Plans

▲

?

Annû (1801 BC)

▲

Sîn-iddinam

▲

Sîn-naši (1817 BC)

?

Atta

▲

Family Genealogy

No. 15 Church Lane, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport.

Accessibility, Control Indexes

Table 4.8

Commercial: Local scale (silver) loan contracts (Sîn-naši), field rental (Sîn-iddinam and Annû). commodity circulation: thirty-seven sealings (Sîn-naši, Sîn-iddinam, Annû).

Commercial: Local scale disposal of harvest from land (Atta).

Residents’ activities

Verbal meaning

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING However, if this private way is not considered (this is reserved to the residents and not to visitors) the late phase is as disconnected from the external relations as the first phase. As for the internal relations, while the most integrated position of the main living room 5 and the courtyard 2 stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension, in the remaining spaces the ‘approach-avoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms. The main living room 4 is in a position of ‘visual dominance’. Both the private entrance 8 of the final version and the entrance suite 1–3 are quite segregated from the rest of the house in order to allow a direct access respectively to the residential sector 5–6–9 or to interface the relations between inhabitants and outside world. The family residing in the main living room 4 controls the visitors’ access to the chapel and thus retains more power than in the model a-b of No. 5 Quiet Street where the chapel is directly accessible from the courtyard.

rural extended families pointing to possible kinship ties) throughout the house history suggests a close relationship between the No. 15 Church Lane residents and other residents of AH and Ur in general and this would match the interior-exterior orientation of these shallow charts, hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal and affiliative relations with the outside world; (c) The architectural change (in the II phase) of house layout, network chart and consequent reduction of accessibility value due to the opening of the private passageway 8 is reflected by a parallel shift in the kinds and range of activities reported by the texts: while during both occupations the house requires the structured entrance suite 1–3 to interface private business activities which, despite being on a local level, are carried out mainly outside the close circle of kin and kith, the increased presence of commodity circulation in the final occupation (see oval-shaped bullae that probably sealed containers) generates the opening of the private passageway 8, designed to give a more independent access to the family and its kin; more formal barriers, both physical (two special interface suites) and also verbal (more textual evidence of business activities), are thus characteristic of the sociology of the final house because this needs to control the stronger business interaction, while relatively more informal morphologies showing less barriers, both verbal and spatial, are appropriated by the initial actors whose business is more reduced and possibly also carried out to some extent within a kinship circle (see field rental from rural relative); (d) Corollary to this is that the introduction of a private entrance suite correlates with the intensification of business which has more specifically to do with commodity circulation through the main entrance sector; (e) The markedly higher social standing of No. 15 Church Lane’s inhabitants (like No. 7 Quiet Street’s residents) (intense commodity circulation and the lending of silver) with respect to No. 5 Quiet Street’s residents (only Šamaš-nāΒir has an important role in the temple organisation) matches with the more powerful and hierarchical position postulated for Model 2, sub-type c-e, No. 15 Church Lane, on the grounds of their deeper tree-like charts and their asymmetric integration of chapel and main living room.

2. Verbal messages The ten texts from this house can be divided into three groups (Brusasco 2000: 158–159). Atta’s archive, although undated, can be assigned on archaeological grounds to the I phase (lower floor) of the house (Table 4.8, I phase: main living room 5). Atta is the addressee of a letter concerning the disposal of harvest from 20 iku of land along a canal (UET V, 30). The remainder of No. 15 Church Lane texts which were found in a pit dug in the upper baked-brick pavement in the chapel 6 (Table 4.8, II phase) span between 1817 BC (Rim-Sin 6) and 1802 BC (Rim-Sin 21). Early in the II phase, Sîn-naši is the main resident and is involved in (silver) loan contracts with the usual 20% interest rate (UET V, 337, 364, Rim-Sin 6, 1817 BC). Some fifteen years later begins the documentation relative to Annû, son of Sîn-iddinam, who is mainly involved in field rental (payment in silver) from different groups of men (UET V, 210, 217, 219, Rim-Sin 21, 1802 BC) who represent rural extended families possibly also related to their leaseholders (Diakonoff 1996: 57–58; see also No. 8–10 Paternoster Row above). Apart from the tablets, thirty-seven sealings are found here (pit in the chapel 6), impressed with many different seals (Brusasco 2000: 158–159). These sealings are mainly oval-shaped bullae that probably sealed containers, such as sacks, closed by a piece of string, for the delivery of commodities. One may suggest the existence of vertical transmission of property and office from father to son. This seems clear from the presence of a temporal sequence of individuals involved jointly in the archive.

All the main dynamics of family sociology evidenced by the texts, that is the shift between moderate and more intensive business activities, have thus a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific morphological features and accessibility values which can be predicted archaeologically, thereby stressing intersemiotic corroboration between verbal and nonverbal sign systems and little opacity.

3. Conclusions (a) The presence of one single actor for each phase indicates the usual nuclear family module with vertical succession and matches with the archaeological identification of the single residential room 5; (b) The presence of local scale business (e.g. disposal of harvest, silver loan contracts, field rental, commodity circulation: thirty-seven sealings) and relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (e.g. at least one field rental from

No. 1 Broad Street , AH, Ur (Table 4.9) 1. Nonverbal messages This house belongs to Model 2, type b-e. In terms of social psychology, the relatively higher integration with the outside world of the initial phase stresses the interactive/ 82

27 27 200

19-20 3 20 3 19 3

23-25 25 25 22 25 23

29-34 32 29 34 254

Low Accessibility R3 Lavatory

83

High Accessibility R4 (Main) living r. R8 Chapel

Middle Accessibility R1A Courtyard R6 Service room R7 Passage/Archive R9 Passage/Archive R10 Passage

Low Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Lavatory R5 Lavatory

0-3 3 0 0 5

3 3 3 3 3 3

0 0 9

0-6 4 6 0 4

20-24 20 20 24 23

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R7 Entrance R5 Lavatory R9 Passage

C.I. 0-5 5 3 4 0 4

A.I. 15-18 15 18 17 18 18

High Accessibility R1A Courtyard R4 (Main) living r. R6 Entrance suite R8 Chapel R10 Passage

Accessibility, Control Indexes

4

3

4

3

5

5

1

1A Street

6

Street

1

6

10

1A

10

Network Charts

Nonverbal meaning

7

8

7

8

9

9

II PHASE

I PHASE

House Plans

Sîn-šadī (1787 BC)

▲

Igmil-Sîn (1803 BC)

▲

Agūa (1835-1810 BC)

▲

Ur-Guedina (2029-2006 BC)

▲

Family Genealogy

Table 4.9 No. 1 Broad Street , AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an intersemiotic rapport.

Private business: Local scale silver payment of cattle, balance of accounts concerning barley, purchase or sale of a slave, and transport of goods by boat, investments for trade (Igmil-Sîn), inheritance of real estate, offering table, slave, fishing boat, weapons, agricultural tools, furniture, investments for trade, ownership of a slave girl (Sîn-šadī), Temple administration: disposal of oil-seed and balance of accounts, allocation of fodder and silver to various workers (Igmil-Sîn, Sîn-šadī), Scribal: School, literary texts (Igmil-Sîn, Sîn-šadī).

Temple administration: silver deliveries (Ur-Guedina), management of temple herds of sheep and cattle and dairy products, allocation of (temple) fields and oil rations (Agūa), Private business: Local scale One silver loan (Agūa’s partners) Scribal: school and literary texts (Agūa).

Residents’ activities

Verbal meaning

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING affiliative dimension, while, owing to the blocking of both the private entrance way 7 and the internal doorways between the entrance suite 1–6 and the residential sector 1A-3–4–8, the stronger segregation of the final occupation suggests that the ‘approach-avoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms. This ‘approach-avoidance’ dimension also means the presence of more formalised barriers, both physical and textual (stronger physical boundaries, and judicial and administrative barriers). As for the position of the single loci within the network, while the most integrated position of the main living room 4, the chapel 8 and the courtyard 2 stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension, in the archive room 9, the private entrance 7, the entrance suite 1–6, and the service room 8 the ‘approachavoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms. The main living room 4 is in a position of ‘visual dominance’. Both the private entrance 7 of the initial version and the entrance suite 1–6 are meant either to allow a direct access to the residential sector 4–8–9 or to interface the relations between inhabitants and outside world. Though both the main living room 4 and the chapel 8 share a similarly strong integration, the family residing in the main living room 4 controls the visitors’ access to the chapel and thus retains more power than in the model a-b of No. 5 Quiet Street where the chapel is directly accessible from the courtyard.

of oil-seed or barley, the purchase or sale of a slave, the transport of goods by boat), sometimes carried out for the Ningal and Nanna temple (UET V, 3, 16, 17, 21, 38, 43, 56, 60, 71). Interestingly, a woman Ubayatum (connected to Igmil-Sîn) engages in business matters for she sends a letter to her husband concerning a transaction in oilseed for the Nanna temple. Finally, at the end of the II phase, Sîn-šadī inherits the house, resides in the chapel suite and carries out the funerary cult for his ancestors (see correspondence between Sîn-šadī's allot of 30 sq. m and the actual floor area of the chapel suite 4–8 in the inheritance text UET V, 119). Sîn-šadī, the eldest son, receives the usual 10% extra-share over the real estate, in addition to an offering table, and a slave girl, while the other goods are equally partitioned between the two brothers. Some other administrative texts of the period of Agūa (I phase), Igmil-Sîn and Sîn-šadī (II phase) dealing with allocation of oil rations (UET V, 642: Warad-Sîn 9, 1826 BC), fodder for cattle, silver to various workers and loans (UET V, 412: Rim-Sin 30, 1793; 483: Rim-Sin 30, 1793, UET V, 301) show some of their activities in partnership with other persons who may be relatives. As to the school texts of room 3–4, they correspond to the curriculum of the Mesopotamian eduba (mathematical exercises, standardised literary and religious texts with all the main genres of the Sumerian and Akkadian literature) (Charpin 1986: 459).

2. Verbal messages The presence of many school tablets along with business documents points to a school-house of a particular kind (Brusasco 2000: 159–161). As shown by Woolley and confirmed by later analyses (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 136–7; Brusasco 2000: 159–161), 241 school and literary tablets originate from the residential suite 3–4, with an overflow into the central courtyard 1A, while the remaining 100 business tablets come from along the walls of the entrance suite sector 7–9, again with an overflow into room 6.

3. Conclusion (a) The presence of one single main actor for each phase points to one simple family with vertical succession and fits in with the identification of the single living room 4; (b) The presence of local scale business (e.g. temple administration; private business and inheritance of property; scribal teaching) and relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (e.g. silver loans, investments for commercial expeditions, etc. involving actors probably related to the No. 1 Broad Street’s residents since they keep their archives together in the house) suggests a close relationship between the No. 1 Broad Street’s residents and other residents of AH and Ur in general and this would match the interior-exterior orientation of these shallow charts, hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal and affiliative relations with the outside world; (c) The architectural change (in the II phase) of house layout, network chart and consequent increase of accessibility value due to the physical separation of the residential sector 1A–3–4–8 from the ‘public’ area of the entrance suite 1–6 (as well as the blocking of the passage way 7) is reflected by a parallel shift in the kinds and range of activities reported by the texts: while the prevailing (if not exclusively) administrative character of the initial inhabitants’ activities (Ur-Guedina and Agūa) generates a stronger interaction between scribal teaching in the residential sector and administrative activities of the entrance area as both are probably carried out mainly on behalf of the temple, the increasing ‘privatisation’ of both kinds of activities carried out by the late occupants

All documents belong to the final occupation of the house but certainly refer also to earlier related occupants. Though the relations among the following individuals is not specified by the patronymics, chronological evidence and the fact they kept their archives together point to their being a nuclear family with vertical inheritance from father to son. In the I phase (Ur III Dynasty; 2029–2006 BC), the temple agent Ur-Guedina carries out deliveries of silver on behalf of the temple (UET III, 706–712, 836, 892). Towards the end of the I phase, the temple administrator Agūa, active between 1835 and 1810 BC (Sin-iqišam 5 – Rim-Sin 12), has the main function of chief-herdsman. He manages the temple herds of sheep and cattle, as well as some dairy products (UET V, 111, 604, 611, 626, 807, 808, 812, 813, 814, 818, 849), and supervises the allocation of (temple) fields to various individuals and to himself (UET V, 107, 850). In the II phase, twelve letters show that Igmil-Sîn inhabits the house. Igmil-Sîn is involved along with other persons, probably his partners, in different kinds of business affairs (payments concerning cattle, the delivery of silver for a journey, payment of silver, accounts for the disposal 84

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE (Igmil-Sîn, and Sîn-šadī) generates the separation of the residential sector from the entrance suite, that is of scribal teaching and private business, because the school teaching takes its traditional private character normally separated from the family business (see Nos. 5 and 7 Quiet Street); thus in the final occupation there are more formalised physical and textual barriers, namely a relatively more independent entrance suite 1–6 and more varied and complex textual stress on private business and temple administration; (d) Corollary to this is that the more complex and integrated entrance sector of the first phase is designed when there is no need for isolating private from institutional activities for both kinds are devoted mainly to state/temple-connected activities (be scribal or administrative); also, the initial presence of the private entrance suite 7, later blocked up, correlates with the intensification of administrative undertakings; (e) The markedly higher social standing of No. 1 Broad Street’s residents (like No. 15 Church Lane’s and 7 Quiet Street’s residents) with respect to the family from No. 5 Quiet Street correlates with the relatively more powerful and hierarchical position postulated for model 2, sub-type c-e, No. 1 Broad Street on the grounds of the deeper tree-like charts and the asymmetric integration of chapel and main living room.

‘reciprocity principle’ applies here: there is a system of social equality whereby all the families control the same territory and stress the same interactive/affiliative dimension and no family is able to dominate the others by controlling a larger territory or the chapel area (see same accessibility values of the living rooms 5, 6 and 7). Also there is no residential locus which dominates visually and thus also socially. The high integration of the kitchen and service loci 3–4 stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension for spaces which may be allocated to domestic slavery. 2. Verbal messages There are twenty-seven tablets which describe the activities of six generations (two centuries) of the senior branch of Ninlil-zimu lineage, probably one of the most important families that dominated Nippur in the Isin-Larsa and Old Babylonian periods (Stone 1987: 41–53). A few school tablets (phases II and III) found in the entrance sector 1–7 suggest the presence of some late scribal teaching. In the first phase, an inheritance text (ARN 20 + OIMA 1 52, 1880 BC, and Text 4 from living room 7, an addendum for the rebalancing of property) shows that Ninlil-zimu’s elder sons, Abba-kalla and Im-ši-ŠI, reside (see their two seal impressions from the courtyard 2) in the ‘old house’ (é-libir-ra), while the two junior ones KADamu and Lu-dingirra move to separate houses (émurub4, or ‘middle house’, and ‘additional house’ both in TA ‘near the northeast wall’ of Nippur). There is no direct evidence here of the eldest son’s preference portion but a substantial equality in the division of the property among heirs, though the temple offices are allocated to the two residents of the ‘old house’. The Ninlil-zimu’s senior branch of the family is now one of the great propertyowning families of Nippur (the most prestigious temple office gudu4-ship of Ninlil, over 1,000 sq. m of kislaΪ, many field, orchards, and house property, and a few domestic slaves) (Stone 1987: 42–5). In the next generation of the I phase, while Abba-kalla’s eldest sons, Enlil-maš-zu and Damu-azu, reside in the house and control the same property and temple office and are active in business (inheritance text ARN 23 + PBS 8/2 169, 1867 BC, and addendum YOS 14 text 321, a gift of field property from the king, and Text 5), the younger son LuNinurta receives extra property as balance instead of offices and soon moves to the ‘middle house’ (ARN 23 + PBS 8/2 169). In the II phase, Damagugu and Annebaddu, the main resident brothers of House K, do not inherit the unbuilt house property and the gudu4-ship of Ninlil title by their grandfather Abba-kalla who devolves this property to the heirs of the younger Ninlil-zimu residing in the ‘middle family house’ (OIMA 1 13, 1745 BC). Such family buys further property (BE 6/2 43 1737 BC, OIMA 1 22, 1 23, 1738 BC) and temple offices (OIMA 1 19, 1739 BC), and becomes member of the powerful temple office institution, while leaving the most junior branch of the descendants of Lu-dingirra (Ninlilzimu’s most junior son who moves soon to the ‘additional house’) in the dependent position of witnesses for their business deeds (Stone 1987: 49). Thus, the main source of power in the lineage moves from the eldest branch of House K to the junior one residing in the ‘middle house’.

The main features of family sociology evidenced by the texts, that is the shift between mainly administrative to more private business activities, have thus a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific morphological features and accessibility values which can be predicted by nonverbal analysis, thereby stressing intersemiotic rapport between verbal and nonverbal sign systems and little opacity. Archives from extended family houses with social equality and spatial solidarity (Model 3) House K, TA, Nippur (Table 4.10a-b) 1. Nonverbal messages Owing to its incomplete excavation, the reconstruction of its northern loci is based on comparison with identical house plans from Ur (No. 3 Gay Street, EM, Ur) (Stones 1987: 50–51). In terms of social psychology, the relatively higher integration with the outside world of the initial phase stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension, while, owing to the construction of a structured entrance suite in the two final phases and the introduction of additional service/storerooms in the third phase, the stronger segregation of the final occupations suggests that the ‘approach-avoidance’ component prevails. Thus, there may be a constant decrease in tacit rules and conventions associated with daily life from the first to the final phases, by imposing in the latter occupation more formalised barriers, both physical and textual (stronger physical boundaries, and judicial and administrative barriers). As for the positioning of different types of loci within the network, Mehrabian 85

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Table 4.10a Nonverbal messages of Model-4 House K, TA, Nippur. Nonverbal meaning Accessibility/Control Indexes

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard

A.I. 11 11

C.I. 0 0

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Stairway R4 Kitchen R5 Service room R6 Living room R7 Living room R9 Living room

17-19 18 18 18 19 19 17 19

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Low Accessibility R8 Storeroom (RX Living r. I Fl.

25 25 28

0 0 0)

164

0

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard R9 Entrance suite

13-17 0 13 0 17 0

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Stairway R4 Kitchen R5 Service room R6 Living room R7 Living room

19-23 23 20 20 21 21 19

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Low Accessibility R8 Storeroom (RX Living r. I Fl.

24 27 30 181

0 0 0) 0

High Accessibility R2 Courtyard

15 15

0 0

Middle Accessibility R3 Service/passage R5 Living room R6 Living room R7 Entrance R9 Entrance suite

22-24 22 22 24 22 20

0 0 0 0 0 0

Low Accessibility R1 Entrance R4 Storeroom R8 Storeroom R10 Storeroom

28-31 28 31 28 31 246

0 0 0 0 0 0

Network Chart

9

8

X

7

3

4

House Plan

5

6

5

6

2 1 Street

I PHASE Level XII Isin-Larsa

8

X

7

3

4

2 9 1 Street

II PHASE Level XI Old Babylonian

8

4

10

7

3

5

6

2 9

1 Street

III PHASE Level X Old Babylonian

86

House plans

Nonverbal meaning

87

III PHASE LEVEL X OB

II PHASE LEVEL XI OB

I PHASE LEVEL XII ISIN-LARSA

▲ Abba-kalla

▲ ▲ Mutum-ilum Mār-erΒetim (1760-1739 BC)

▲ ▲ Adad-rabi Uqâ-ilam (1789 BC)

▲ ▲ Damagugu Anne-baddu (1816-1794 BC)

(1880 BC)

▲ Lu-Ninurta

▲ Im-ši-ŠI

▲ Ninlil-zimu (before 1880 BC)

▲ ▲ Enlil-maš-zu Damu-azu (1867-1860 BC)

Family Genealogy

Verbal meaning

Private business: Local scale various legal disputes with the junior branch to obtain house property, acquisition of part of a city block of TA.

Private business: Local scale witnessing activities, exclusion from inheritance of ca. 700 sq. m of unbuilt urban property which goes to Ninlil-zimu junior of the junior branch (Damagugu and Anne-baddu), field and real estate acquisitions, witnessing (Adadrabi, Uqâ-ilam).

Private business: Local scale temple offices and gudu4-ship of Ninlil, acquisition of 1,000 sq. m of unbuilt urban property in TA, fields, orchards, slaves, and three houses (inheritance texts of Abba-kalla and Im-ši-ŠI, and of Enlil-maš-zu and Damu-azu); gudu4-ship of Ninlil, and other temple offices, furniture, house and field property, two slaves and silver (Lu-Ninurta).

Residents’ activities

Table 4.10b House K, TA, Nippur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a relatively stronger heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic traits.

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING In House K, Damagugu and Anne-baddu appear by now only in passive role as witnesses in the business of the ‘middle family’ branch, and the same witnessing activities are also carried out by their direct descendants Adad-rabi and Uqâ-ilam. Moreover, during the late II phase, Adadrabi received a field from his cousin Ududu of the LuNinurta branch in exchange for his gudu4-ship of Ninlil, thus loosing definitely this important title. Only in the III phase, there is an attempt by the senior branch of the family to recover its economical and leadership role. The two final residents of House K, Adad-rabi’s elder sons, Mutum-ilum and Mār-erΒetim, resume business activities and acquire real estate also by means of legal disputes against the junior branch of the ‘middle house’ (their cousins) and call for the intervention of the crown (Hammurabi) to recover or receive an appropriate compensation for the sale of their prestigious gudu4-ship of Ninlil (BE 6/2 10, 1760 BC) (Stone 1987: 48). The reasons for such complaints are due to the important character of temple offices whose possession often conferred a leadership position. Although the internal family decisions on the allocation of power and property are not hampered by the deliberation of the court, these legal disputes show the frailty of the lineages over time. The palace institution has now the right to interfere in the private affairs of the family, while the dissatisfaction of the main branch (the sons of Adad-rabi) shows clearly enough all the contradictions inherent to a system which has to cope both with the inheritance of individual power and property, and the corporate nature of the lineage (Stone 1987: 48).

initially powerful (I phase), it is later (II phase) overtaken by the junior branch of KA-Damu’s (which resides in the ‘middle house’) and Lu-Ninurta’s (Abba-kalla’s junior son) descendants (they inherit most of the city block once owned by the senior branch and the prestigious temple office gudu4-ship, etc.), while leaving the most junior branch of the descendants of Lu-dingirra (who move soon to the ‘additional house’) in the position of witnesses for their business deeds; power, leadership and control over property are consequently not retained by the elder branch but are conversely negotiated and shifted among different branches of the family, thus showing some temporary inequality; (d) The presence of local scale business (e.g. acquisitions of real estate, unbuilt urban property, fields and orchards) and possibly also relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (e.g. the sons of Enlil-maš-zu act as witnesses in transactions of the junior branch of the family, Mutum-ilum and Mār-erΒetim bring suit against their cousins of the junior branch, while the most junior branch is tied to Houses H and G) throughout the house history suggests a close relationship between the House K residents and other residents of TA and Nippur in general (who maintain close economic ties which reflect ties of kinship) and this would match the interior-exterior orientation of these rather shallow charts, hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal and affiliative relations with the outside world; (e) The architectural change (in the III phases) of house layout, network chart and consequent increase of accessibility value due to the conversion of the residential space 7 into an entrance suite, as well as the division of the kitchen 4 into different service spaces 3–4 and 9, is reflected by a parallel shift in the genealogy and the scale and kind of activities reported by the texts: the conversion of the residential room 7 into an entrance suite probably correlates with the sudden intensification of business activities by the final occupants Mutum-ilum and Mār-erΒetim and the legal disputes over further acquisitions of fields and house property between 1760 and 1739 BC; this business implementation is likely to determine the introduction of additional storage spaces for the storing of the revenues obtained from field and real estate leasings; hence, in the two final occupations the imposition of more formal textual barriers dealing with intensification of business and legal disputes correlates with the presence of relatively more formalised physical barriers (entrance suite 1–7 and additional storage and service spaces 3–4 and 9), which generate increasingly higher house accessibility values; (f) The presence of domestic slaves postulated on the grounds of the existence of an expanded service sector (kitchen 4, service loci 3–4 in which they live and work) on the south side of the house matches textual evidence on the presence of slaves; further, their nonsecluded position within the house is probably in tune with textual evidence of limited slavery (only two slaves);

3. Conclusion (a) The existence of two/three and two main actors in the first and the two final occupations respectively points to one extended family with patrilineal succession from father to son/s and matches with the identification of the three living rooms 5, 6 and 7 (plus possible residential loci X on the upper floor) and supports the archaeological model for the identification of residential spaces; in the two final occupations the fact that the junior brother Lu-Ninurta moves away to another family house (‘middle house’), determines the reduction in the numbers of residential loci from three to two; (b) The texts suggest the presence of some kind of social equality in family relations in that within House K no dominant family exerts control on the secondary resident families by inheriting a preferential share (the eldest son and/or favourite son’s 10% extra share found in Model 3 and 5 houses from Ur) and by leading a primary role in business affairs and ritual activities, thereby matching the clear morphological and social symmetry shown by the equal integration of the single residential loci 5, 6 and 7 within the network; none of the residential loci dominate visually and socially with respect to the entrance way, thus matching the substantial equality among the resident families evidenced by the texts; (c) However, social inequality is externalised in the relations among the three different family branches living in three independent houses in TA: although the senior branch of Abba-kalla and his descendants is 88

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE Intersemiotic translation shows that all the main dynamics of domestic sociology evidenced by the texts (the change of house morphology in consequence of the Lu-Ninurta’s move to another house, as well as the intensification of business activities after a sudden family crisis) have a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific accessibility values which can be predicted on archaeological grounds; hence there is intersemiotic corroboration between verbal and nonverbal sign systems and little opacity.

from nonverbal signals is also shown by the fact that the experience of power and the ability to express its numerous subtleties are at odds. In this case, despite the possible attempts by external forces (agents of the crown), the success of this lineage over so long a time period is due to the flexible strategies employed for property consolidation which may shift to the different branches of the family so as to allow its members to hold powerful positions also in critical times for the lineage as a whole (Stone 1987: 50). Not only are some sons excluded from inheritance, but some real estate remains under joint ownership and the main temple offices and real estate shift from one declining branch to the emergent junior one, while members of the most junior sub-set are employed in the passive role of witnesses for their more wealthy relatives. Also when the power of lineage membership diminished, members of this family still continued to maintain power and prestige by taking important posts in the traditional temple office institution (Stone 1987: 52– 3). Moreover, the fact that some of the archives of the junior branches are kept in House K, the main paternal house, suggests only an initial fragmentation of the family. In sum, while morphological and textual analysis shows that there are patterns or codes (e.g. the eldest son’s 10% extra share, and the social asymmetry of the residential loci) which are accepted, learned and implemented by the group collectively, the intentionality, experiences and aspirations of the individual families in shaping space are also relevant. The contexts in which action takes place never repeat themselves exactly and cannot be fixed in rigid chart morphologies. It is the strategic management of the relationship between structure and context in the specific case of House K which both depends on and creates power. Consequently, also both axes of the directionality of language express some indeterminacy and underdetermination with a relatively broader range of verbal readings (subtle power asymmetries) apt to govern the spatial morphology. Language is in charge here and the Mesopotamians should let their linguistic imagination elaborate the network of nonverbal signs with no immediate closure of meaning, until they choose the strategic solution of allocating different houses to the various branches and a more flexible devolution of the family property to retain power within the lineage over a long period of time. Finally, the House K example shows that if it is the more symbolic aspects of social relations which have a stronger impact on chart variability, this involves a shift of emphasis from the manifest (instrumental) aspects of any activity to its latent aspects: single network charts cannot be studied in isolation, but one must consider activity systems and genealogical relations across different house morphologies and archives. Though in the House K case modal and semiotic opacity are present since we do not have archaeological evidence of the additional houses, from the sole morphology of House K we can predict internal social equality, and we can also infer from other examples, in which different neighbouring houses are preserved archaeologically, the existence of

However, if the internal presence of social equality evidenced by the texts matches with the symmetric degree of integration of the single residential spaces, an interpretive reading of the archives shows that inequality and tension is transferred from the intrafamily relations within House K to the inter-family relations among different branches residing in the ‘middle’ and ‘additional’ houses. This shifting inequality has thus no spatial visibility within the single House K but can be detected only if the textual presence of other houses is considered. This shows propositional, modal and semiotic opacity and a heterosemiotic relation between the sociology of the textual house and that of the archaeological house. Owing to the more social/symbolic dimension of discourse which has to do with asymmetric power relations among different branches, propositional opacity between the sociology of the textual family and its referential, nonverbal meanings is present; this shows the variety of flexible cultural ways in which different types of Mesopotamian families employ the more symbolic verbal data (archival evidence of power relations) to elaborate the nonverbal (multiple residences). While in Model 4 and Model 5 extended family houses the nonverbal coding spatialised by the chapel suite (a symbolic space of power) and the stronger integration of the main living room with respect to the other residential loci take a visible form in the tension and control for avoiding property fragmentation outlined by the texts (e.g. 10% extra share to eldest son, see below), in relatively larger and more equalitarian lineages such as the Ninlil-zimu family which cannot be accommodated in one single residence, tension over control of property and leadership shifts from the internal relations of House K to the relationships among different branches residing in separate houses. However, the lack of formal barriers such as the chapel suite and the 10% extra share does not mean that ‘equalitarian’ families of the House K kind are unable to experience tension for property control. Power is more flexibly negotiated and such negotiation is externalised at the inter-families level hinted at by the texts. The fact of linguistic approximate coverage of nonverbal experience does not allow the conclusion that the experience itself is also rough. To say otherwise would suggest that once we have certain spatial layouts but not others, the visual messages to our brain and its linguistic elaborative power of creating alternative solutions are constrained by space use. We have seen, instead, that cultures function quite well despite some kind of dissonance between nonverbal signals and language. The contrast that divides linguistic 89

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING different family branches and their asymmetric power relations (see above square house versus linear house, House H, G, TA, Nippur). At the very bottom, nonverbal meaning and space organisation are recursively linked to textual evidence and they are indeed both its deep filling and/or the outcome of the elaborative potential of language.

purchase of grain in local trade expeditions, house rentals, and boundary dispute concerning fields. 3. Conclusions (a) The existence of two and three single main actors in the first and second phase respectively indicates one extended family with vertical succession and matches with the identification of two (8 and 4) and three single living rooms (8, 4, 6); this supports the assumption drawn on archaeological grounds that one living room should equal one nuclear family and that more than one such family can live together to form an extended family; (b) The texts suggest the presence of social inequality in family relations in that one dominant family – Enlilissu’s – exerts control on the secondary branches (Enlil-iqišam’s, Ili-ippalsam’s) by leading a primary role in business affairs and ritual activities; this matches with the morphological and social asymmetry between the higher level of integration of the residential sector 8 occupied by the dominant family and the other more marginalised living rooms 4, 6; (c) The presence of local scale business (e.g. real estate acquisitions, trade expeditions, house rentals) and possibly also relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (e.g. one text dealing with a boundary dispute for fields may indicate kinship ties) throughout the house history suggests a close relationship between the No. 1 Store Street’s residents and other residents of AH and Ur in general; and this would match the interior-exterior orientation of these rather shallow charts hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal relations with the outside world and the fact that the entrance suite 1–5 is not as expanded as in the case of the double court house; (d) The architectural change (in the II phase) of house layout, network chart and consequent increase of accessibility value due to the conversion of the entrance suite sector into the additional residential space 6 is reflected by a parallel shift in the genealogy and the scale and kind of activities reported by the texts: while during both occupations the house requires a structured entrance suite to interface business activities which, despite being on a local level, are carried out mainly outside the close circle of kin and kith, on the one hand the fact that Ili-ippalsam has attained his majority and needs consequently move to an independent residential locus has determined such conversion, and on the other the parallel reduction in business activities from trade to house rentals (and possibly also business activities with kin such as the boundary dispute for fields hinting at rural ties of the family) generates the contraction of such expanded entrance sector; thus, while in the initial phase spatial meaning is expressed by informal barriers of an interactive kind (with tacit rules) such as the expanded entrance suite and a stronger presence of informal written regulations dealing with local interactions, in the final occupation there are more formalised physical and

Archives from extended family houses with internal social inequality and spatial solidarity (Model 4) No. 1 Store Street , AH, Ur (Table 4.11 ) 1. Nonverbal messages In terms of social psychology, the relatively higher integration with the outside world of the initial phase stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension, while, owing to the conversion of the entrance/service sector 6 into a living room, the stronger segregation of the final occupation suggests that the ‘approachavoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms. This also means the imposition of more formalised barriers, both physical and textual (stronger physical boundaries, and judicial and administrative barriers). As for the positioning of different types of loci within the network, Mehrabian ‘non-reciprocity’ principle applies here: the dominant family residing in the main living room 8 controls a larger territory and stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension (see High Accessibility), while in the secondary living rooms 4 and 6 (and the possible living room X on the upper floor) the ‘approach-avoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms (see Middle Accessibility, and Low Accessibility for the living room X). The main living room 8 is in a position of ‘visual dominance’. The high accessibility value of the entrance suite (1–5) and its external position in the network suggest that it is meant to emphasise the relations with the outside world. The fact that this suite is not as expanded as in the case of the double court house may show that it maps relations on a relatively more local scale. 2. Verbal messages The twenty texts (Rim-Sin, Hammurapi and Samsu-iluna periods) recovered in the vaulted tomb of the II phase of the house (main living room 8) confirm the presence of an extended family with vertical inheritance and social inequality among the resident families (Brusasco 2000: 161–162). In fact, in the I phase of the house, Enlil-issu, the household head, resides in the main living room 8 and controls both ceremonial and business activities, while his junior brother Enlil-iqišam inhabits the living room 4 (see inheritance document with Enlil-issu’s 10% extrashare identified with 44 sq. m of the chapel suite: UET V, 143, 153, 161, 176, 415, Figulla and Martin 1953). In the II phase, the household retains its internal inequality, for Enlil-issu remains the dominant actor in the business transactions and resides in the main living room 8 (UET V, 255), while his son Ili-ippalsam resides in the new living room 6 (UET V, 201, 202) and his junior brother Enlil-iqišam still occupies the living room 4 (UET V, 255). The texts also confirm that the family undertakes local scale business: real estate acquisitions, loans for the 90

A.I. 18-22 19 18 22 22

24-26 24 26 26

31-37 33 31 31 37 289

17-22 20 17 22

25-26 25 26 26 26

31-37 34 31 31 37 295

High Accessibility R2 Passage R3 Courtyard R6 Service room R8 Main living r.

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R4 Living room R10 Stairway

Low Accessibility R5 Entrance suite R7 Lavatory R9 Chapel (RX Living r., I Fl.

High Accessibility R2 Passage R3 Courtyard R8 Main living r.

91

Middle Accessibility R1 Entrance R4 Living room R6 Living room R10 Stairway

Low Accessibility R5 Entrance suite R7 Lavatory R9 Chapel (RX Living r., I Fl.

0 0 0 0 0) 0

0 0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0 0) 1

0 0 0 0

C.I. 1 1 1 1 0

6

5

2

5

4

7

10

Street

1

2

3

X

Street

1

3

10

6

4

X 8

7

9

Network Charts

Nonverbal meaning

8

9

II PHASE

I PHASE

House Plans

▲ Enlil-iqišam

Private business: Local scale legal text on boundary dispute for fields (Enlil-issu), house rentals (Iliippalsam).

Private business: Local scale real estate acquisitions, loans for the purchase of grain in trade expeditions (Enlil-issu, Enlil-iqišam).

Residents’ activities

Verbal meaning

▲ Enlil-issu Ili-ippalsam Enlil-iqišam (1736 BC) (1748-1739 BC)

▲ Enlil-issu (1819-1812 BC)

Family Genealogy

No. 1 Store Street, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport.

Accessibility, Control Indexes

Table 4.11

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING textual barriers, namely a relatively more reduced entrance suite and less textual stress on commercial interactions (see legal dispute, etc.); (e) Corollary to this is that there is a correlation between the extension of the entrance suite and the kinds and scale of activities undertaken: although in both phases the entrance suite is less complex than in double court houses thereby spatialising activities which are carried out always on a local level, the more expanded version correlates with more intense local trade, while the reduced suite with relatively less pronounced business relations.

slaves). In 1806 BC Кāb-ilišu purchased 18 sq. m of the house of two men which borders on his own (the area later occupied by loci 4 and 5 or 6), thereby allowing for the possible emergence of an extended family house. In the next stage, an inheritance text (UET V, 12a-b, RimSin 19, 1803 BC) shows that while the elder brother Sîntukultī inherited the main living room 8 and the chapel suite (his 10% extra-share of 41 sq. m corresponds to the suite 7–8–9) and is consequently responsible for the ancestor cult, Lipit-Eštar, the second elder one, inhabits the living room 6 (19 sq. m), and the two younger brothers Sîn-iqīšam and Eštar-iltī may either reside in some residential loci on the upper floor or live elsewhere (apart from locus 6, in the ruined part there is room only for the lavatory 4 and stairway 5). In the final occupation, the dominant member of the family is the businessman Apil-kittim (management of herds of cattle, cowherds and the delivery of approx. 800 head of cattle, dairy products) who resides in the main living room 8 (see texts recovered mainly in locus 8) and controls the chapel suite. Though his clientele includes the temples (UET V, 821, 846), the private character of his transactions and the possible kinship relations with the people mentioned is clear from the fact that the same group of people witness each others’ documents (UET V, 38, 630, 822–824, 826– 833, 838, Rim-Sin 31–36) (Diakonoff 1985: 54–55; 1996: 59). Two of Apil-kittim’s dependent partners and relatives, Iddin-Ea and Ibni-Ea, reside within No. 2 Church Lane: Iddin-Ea inhabits the living room 6 for he acts as witness for Apil-kittim and shares with him a similar type of seal impression (UET 5, 630 and 417), while Ibni-Ea resides in the additional residential space on the upper floor or cohabits with one of the others. Tabni-Ištar, Ibni-Ea’s wife, adopts the male slave Bēlqišam-balaΓi, to support her probably after his husband’s death (UET V, 94, Rim-Sin 39, 1783 BC) in return for coinheriting their property. This shows that women may also have the right to adopt. Finally, Mār-erΒetim, a less powerful contemporary of Apil-kittim (selling and renting of boats for the fishing industry UET V, 193, 227, Rim-Sin 33), possibly resides in some residential space on the upper floor (see the absence of close business ties with Mār-erΒetim).

Intersemiotic translation shows that all the main social dynamics outlined by the texts take specific morphological features and are visible in the archaeological record, thereby suggesting an intersemiotic rapport between verbal and nonverbal sign systems and reduced opacity. No. 2 Church Lane, AH, Ur (Table 4.12) 1. Nonverbal messages Owing to the ruinous state of the house and the consequent lack of a complete plan, one cannot determine any possible change through time. As for the position of the single loci, Mehrabian ‘non-reciprocity’ principle applies here: the dominant family residing in the main living room 8 controls a larger territory and stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension (see High Accessibility), while in the secondary living room 6 (and the possible living room X on the upper floor) the ‘approach-avoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms (see Middle Accessibility, and Low Accessibility for the living room X). The main living room 8 is in a position of ‘visual dominance’. While the high accessibility value of the entrance suite (1–2–10) and its external position in the network show that it emphasises the relations with the outside world, the fact that this suite is not as expanded as in the case of the double court house points to the presence of relations on a relatively more local scale. 2. Verbal messages Forty-five tablets are found in situ in two clay pots laying on the floors of the main living room 8 and the entrance suite 11 (some possibly also from the entrance suite 10) (Brusasco 2000: 162–163). While the earliest occupation is the residence of a nuclear family, the late archive confirms the presence of an extended family with vertical inheritance and social inequality among the resident families. Though no patronymics are recorded, the chronological sequence of the documents gives the genealogical relationship. In the initial occupation, Кābilišu, the only occupant of the house, is involved in the acquisition of real estate and storage space, boat building and in activities connected with local trade (UET V, 439, Rim-Sin 2, 1820 BC). The dowry (UET V, 793) of Кābilišu’s wife Rubātum consisting of 1.5 kilograms of silver, five slaves and numerous pieces of furniture and household utensils for textile home production and grain grinding (i.e. grindstones, looms and spindles) suggests the activities carried out daily by this woman (and/or her

3. Conclusion (a) The fit between the number of the two residential loci 8 and 6 and the actual four resident families may be achieved only if one allows either for the presence of additional residential loci in the north ruined part and/or on the upper floor (as possibly suggested by the solid brick stairway 5) or for cohabitation of some actors with the remaining families (as unmarried persons?), thereby only hypothetically supporting the archaeological identification of an extended family house; (b) Although no architectural changes over time are detected archaeologically, owing to the ruinous state of the house, it is likely that it takes the present shape only during the last years of Кāb-ilišu’s occupation when in 1806 BC his texts report the acquisition of some space (possibly loci 4, 5 and 6) for his sons, while in its initial form the house was probably that of 92

0 0 0 0

0 0) 0

35-45 37 37 35

45 43 388

Low Accessibility R7 Lavatory R9 Chapel R10 Entrance suite R11 Entrance suite/ Archive (RX Living r. I Fl.

0 0 0 0

C.I. 0 0 0 0 0

31 31 31 31

A.I. 21-27 26 21 23 27

Middle Accessibility R4 Lavatory R5 Stairway R6 Living room

High Accessibility R1 Entrance R3 Courtyard R2 Passage R8 Main living r.

Accessibility/Control Indexes

?

93 Street

1

2

3

11 10

4

5

X 6

7 8

Network Chart/House Plan

Nonverbal meaning Residents’ activities

Temple administration: managing temple cattle and herdsmen (Apil-kittim), prebend holding (Ibni-Ea?), boat rentals for palace (Mār-erΒetim).

Private business: Local scale ▲ receiving bitumen for boat building or 9 Кāb-ilišu (1820-1805 BC) trade, real estate purchases, dowry with silver, furniture, 5 slaves (Кāb-ilišu), inheritance division of house, furniture, utensils and slaves (Sîn-tukultī, Lipit▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ Eštar, Sîn-iqīšam, Eštar-iltī, ŠumumSîn-tukultī Lipit-Eštar Sîn-iqīšam Eštar-iltī libši), (1803 BC) management of cattle, cowherds’ supervision, delivery of herds and dairy products (Apil-kittim), supervisees in cattle management, ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ moneylending with barley and silver Apil-kittim Iddin-Ea Ibni-Ea Mār-erΒetim loans (Iddin-Ea, Ibni-Ea), adoption (Ibni(1792-1787 BC) (1808-1799 BC) (1790-1789 B) Ea), witnessing each others’ documents (Apil-kittim, Iddin-Ea, Ibni-Ea), boat sales (Mār-erΒetim).

Family Genealogy

Verbal meaning

Table 4.12 No. 2 Church Lane, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a relatively stronger heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic genre of discourse dealing with power relations.

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING a nuclear family, thereby matching the presence of one single residential room 8; (c) The texts suggest the presence of social inequality in family relations in that one dominant family at a time – Кāb-ilišu’s (the only main actor at the outset), Sîn-tukultī’s (the eldest brother who has inherited the chapel suite 7–8–9) and Apil-kittim’s (the main actor and owner of chapel suite 7–8–9 as shown by his texts found here) – exerts control on the secondary families by leading a primary role in business affairs and ritual activities and controlling the chapel suite 7–8–9; this would match the morphological and social asymmetry between the higher level of integration of the residential sector 7–8–9 occupied by the dominant family and the other more marginalized living rooms 6 (and possibly also X, on the upper floor, or some other living rooms in the ruined part); (d) The presence of local scale business (e.g. receiving bitumen for boat building or trade, real estate purchases, management of cattle, cowherds’ supervision and delivery of herds and dairy products, moneylending, boat sales) and possibly also relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (e.g. Nidittum, Ahiya and Ninazugamil witness Apil-kittim’s business transactions, thereby suggesting kinship ties and residential proximity) throughout the house history suggests a close relationship between the No. 2 Church Lane’s residents and other residents of AH and Ur in general (economic ties which may reflect ties of kinship); and this would match the interior-exterior orientation of these rather shallow chart and the fact that the entrance suite 1–2–10 is not as expanded as in the case of the double court house;

the schemata of language (textual actors). On the crosscultural level, we face in this specific case some difficulties when we try to interpret and so reconstruct their cultural deixis, especially in its implicit and concealed forms and the general cultural frame within which a foreign language such as Akkadian occurs (modal and semiotic opacity). With this respect, the presence at Ur of solid brick stairways together with textual evidence from Sippar that upper floor rooms were often rented out or sold may suggest the existence of residential space on the upper floors also for Ur. Moreover, some propositional opacity is shown for the social/symbolic dimension of discourse which has to do with power relations. In fact, it seems reductive to attribute such dissonance exclusively to the lack of archaeological evidence: as shown by textual evidence it is the less powerful actors which are likely to reside on the upper floor (or reside as unmarried persons under the control of the main actors) and this may also account for their architectural ‘invisibility’ (see higher accessibility value of residential space X) (see also archives from No. 8–10, 12 Paternoster Row, 1, 2 Bazaar Alley with dependent persons with an anomalous legal status). While in the majority of cases there is a one-to-one relationship between the number of resident families and their ground-floor living rooms, different strategic solutions may be adopted for dealing with different power relations. Consequently, within the internal level of Mesopotamian culture there is some propositional opacity between the sociology of the textual family and its referential, nonverbal meanings, owing to the flexible cultural ways in which Mesopotamian families use the symbolic linguistic structures of their archives to process the nonverbal readings. In this specific context where the internal asymmetric relations among family members are already regulated by formal verbal codes (inheritance texts, etc.) there is thus no need for independent residential spaces to be created for less powerful members on the ground floor, and indeed their creation may hamper the normal course of formal, and asymmetric family relations. This suggests that in relatively formal contexts of family sociology, when it comes to the question of power, this may be better dealt with and maintained verbally and consequently through a flexible spatial patterning than via rigid morphologies which may accrue tension and disrupt the family highly hierarchical relations. This example shows that if we are to comprehend those meanings attributed to the built environment, it is necessary to know how the behaviour of different people may be regulated by implicit codes and conventions (such as behaviour protocols) without more explicit spatial norms and rules be necessarily defined through independent residential spaces because they are already defined verbally. Also both axes of the directionality of language express some indeterminacy and underdetermination with a relatively variable and broader range of verbal readings apt to accommodate the spatial morphology. The Mesopotamians should let their linguistic imagination unfold the network of nonverbal signs with no immediate closure of meaning, while choosing a more flexible and strategic use of space to accommodate specific kinds (upper floor loci hinting at

Intersemiotic analysis shows that all the main features of domestic sociology evidenced by the texts have a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific accessibility values which can be predicted archaeologically, thereby stressing intersemiotic links between verbal and nonverbal sign systems and small opacity. However, the dissonance between the textual number of four resident actors and the two actual residential spaces (8 and 6) available on the ground floor shows propositional, modal and semiotic opacity between the sociology of the textual house and that of the archaeological house. This may be explained only if one allows either for the presence of additional residential loci on the upper floor (as possibly suggested by the solid brick stairway 4) or for cohabitation of some actors with the remaining families (as unmarried persons). But the fact that we hardly have any archaeological evidence of upper floors and the impossibility to ascertain the cohabitation of these less powerful actors (Sîn-iqīšam and Eštar-iltī, Iddin-Ea and Ibni-Ea) in their relatives’ residential spaces do not allow one to move beyond the realm of hypotheses. In this case, there appears to be a surplus of verbal meaning or elaboration and a lack of nonverbal messages (residential spaces) apt to fill directly 94

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE extremely asymmetric relations with persons of lower legal status) of power relations.

addressee’s house. Finally, the position of Ningal-lamazi, daughter of Sîn-ma-ilum, in the household business is stressed by her personal seal, while the fact that she is not living in her father's house hints at a well-defined virilocal/neolocal pattern of residence (Goody 1976: 17– 18). Though the presence of cylinder seals may not be conclusive evidence to determine the house owner (Charpin 1986: 124, note 1), here it is connected to silver circulation from and to the house. Application of a seal is an act implying authority, and the cylinders are likely to be employed here for sealing deliveries from a stock of goods belonging to the house.

No. 1 Baker’s Square, AH, Ur (Table 4.13) 1. Nonverbal messages This house also belongs to Model 3. In terms of social psychology, the relatively higher integration with the outside world of the initial phase stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension, while, owing to the blockage of the private way 7, the stronger segregation of the final occupation suggests that the ‘approachavoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms. This means also an imposition in the final occupation of more formalised barriers, both physical and textual (stronger physical boundaries, and judicial and administrative barriers).

3. Conclusion (a) While the existence of two and four main actors in the I and II occupation respectively points to one extended family with vertical succession, it is only in the initial phase that the identification of the two living rooms 4 and 9 matches with the two main actors; in the final occupation the dissonance between the four resident families reported by the texts and the two residential spaces on the ground floor can be only explained if one allows for additional residential loci X on the upper floor (see solid brick stairway 2) or cohabitation of the less powerful actors and relatives Šamaš-ilum and Ьumba with the remaining families (as unmarried persons); (b) The texts suggest the presence of social inequality in family relations in that one dominant family at a time – Ningal-nam-nin-Ϊe-du’s (the initial seal owner), and that of Ningal-lamazi’s and her husband (the late seal owner and addressee of some business letters) – exerts control on the secondary branches by having a leading role in business and ritual activities and controlling the chapel suite 4–5–6–7; this would match with the morphological and social asymmetry between the higher level of integration of the main residential sector 4–5–6–7 and the other more marginalised living room 9 (and possibly also 2 X residential spaces, on the upper floor); (c) While the lack of ‘visual dominance’ expressed by the side position of the main living room 8 does not match Sommer’s model, this is due to the presence of a direct access via the courtyard 1 which spatialises commodity circulation (silver): where a privacy barrier such as the ‘bent entrance’ is lacking it is necessary that the most important residential space 4 and the chapel 5 be out of sight so to protect these important (silver storage) spaces from visitors (see also House E, TA, Nippur and No. 3 Niche Lane, AH, Ur); (d) The presence of local scale business (e.g. commodity circulation and especially silver consignment) and possibly also relatively informal relations with close neighbours and/or locally based kin (e.g. Nigallamazi’s father, Sîn-ma-ilum, notifies his coming to the house for business matters, thereby suggesting both kinship ties and residential proximity) throughout the house history suggests a close relationship between the No. 1 Bakers Square’s residents and other residents of AH and Ur in general (who maintain close economic ties which may reflect

As for the position of the single loci, Mehrabian ‘nonreciprocity’ principle applies here: the dominant family residing in the main living room 4 controls a larger territory and stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension (see High Accessibility), while in the secondary living 9 (and the possible living room X on the upper floor) the ‘approach-avoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms (see Middle Accessibility, and Low Accessibility for the living room X). The private way 7 of the initial occupation renders the chapel suite nearer only to the family members and relatives but not to visitors. However, the main living room 4 is not in a position of ‘visual dominance’ at the furthest end of the court facing the entrance. The high accessibility value of the entrance courtyard 1 and its external position in the network suggest that it is meant to emphasise relations with the outside world, though its being less expanded than in the case of the double court house shows that it maps relations on a relatively more local scale. 2. Verbal messages This archive confirms the presence of an extended family with vertical inheritance and social inequality among the resident families (Brusasco 2000: 163–164). In the I phase, the household head is Ningal-nam-nin-Ϊe-du who resides in the main living room 4 (the owner of the cylinder seal found in the main family tomb in courtyard 1, UE X, 348, Charpin 1986: 124), while his brother (or cousin) Lugal-gu-ni-da (referred to in his son Gimil-Ningiz-zida’s seal, UE X, 453) resides in the additional living room 9. In the II phase, since Ningal-lamazi is owner of the seal (UE X, 541), receives business letters from her father (UET V, 44), and is strongly involved with her husband (the ‘son of Ningal-nam-nin-Ϊe-du’) in business affairs, her family represents the leading branch of the house residing in the man living room 4, while GimilNin-giz-zida, probably the cousin of Ningal-lamazi’s husband and the other owner of the seal (UE X, 453), is a less prominent actor residing in the additional living room 9 (earlier inhabited by his father). Šamaš-ilum and Ьumba are the younger resident brothers (Ningallamazi’s father Sîn-ma-ilum addresses letters to them, UET V, 44). This archive deals with the consignment of silver which is stored in the house as it is always stated that some persons are sent to collect it from the 95

96

25-27 27 25 32 221

Low Accessibility R6 Archive room R7 Private entrance (RX Living r., I Fl.

0 0 1 0) 1

0 0 1 0 0 0

22 22 22 20 22 22

28 28 28 32 226

Middle Accessibility R2 Stairway R3 Lavatory R5 Chapel R8 Storeroom R9 Living room

Low Accessibility R6 Archive room R7 Storeroom (RX Living r., I Fl.

0 0 0 0) 0

0 0 0 0 0 0

High Accessibility 14-16 0 R1 Courtyard 14 0 R4 Main living room 16 0

19-22 22 19 22 22 22

Middle Accessibility R2 Stairway R5 Chapel R3 Lavatory R8 Storeroom R9 Living room

A.I. C.I. High Accessibility 14-16 1 R1 Courtyard 14 1 R4 Main living room 16 1

Accessibility/Control Indexes

8

8

9

9

1

1 Street

2

X

Street

2

X

3

3

7

7

4

5

4

6

Network Chart/House Plan

Nonverbal meaning

5

6

I PHASE

▲ Lugal-guni-da

▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ Ningal-lamazi Šamaš- Ьumba Gimil-Ninand husband ilum giz-zida

▲ Ningal-namnin-Ϊe-du

Family Genealogy

Verbal meaning

Private business: Local scale sealing and silver circulation.

Private business: Local scale sealing for commodity circulation.

Residents’ activities

Table 4.13 No. 1 Baker’s Square, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic traits of discourse.

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE ties of kinship); and this would match the interiorexterior orientation of these rather shallow charts, hinting at spatial solidarity and relatively informal and affiliative relations with the outside world; (e) The architectural change (in the II phase) of house layout, network chart and consequent increase of accessibility value due to blockage of the residents’ private way 7 is reflected by a parallel shift in the genealogy and the scale and kind of activities reported by the texts: while during the initial occupation business activities are not directly linked to silver circulation but to less valuable commodities, in the final occupation a shift to dealing with silver (or at least its implementation) and its storing within the house have determined the blocking of the private entry to seal the house more tightly from the outside world (original archive rooms such as loci 6 and 7 may be, in fact, lately converted to storage spaces for the storing of silver); thus while in the initial phase a slimmer presence of textual ‘barriers’ or regulations dealing with usual business matches a spatial meaning which is expressed by informal barriers of an interactive kind and with tacit rules expressed by the additional private entrance 7, in the final occupation the imposition of more formal textual barriers dealing with silver circulation correlates with the presence of more formalised physical barriers, such as the construction of a unique and thus more controlled access to the house.

shows that the actors who reside on the upper floor (or cohabit with their more powerful relatives) are the least powerful ones and this may account for their architectural ‘invisibility’ and possible segregation on upper floor residential spaces. Archives from extended family houses with complex social inequality and broad business activities (Model 5) No. 1 Old Street/3 Straight Street , AH, Ur (Table 4.14ac) 1. Nonverbal messages This double courtyard house belongs to Model 5 of complex social inequality among the resident families and extended business relations. In terms of social psychology, the relatively higher integration with the outside world of the initial phase stresses the interactive/affiliative dimension, while in the final phases, owing to the construction in the second phase of the new service and entrance suite 12–13 and its consequent blockage in the third phase, the ‘approachavoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms. Thus, there is constant decrease in tacit rules and conventions associated with daily life from the first to the final phases, by imposing in the latter occupation more formalised barriers, both physical and textual. Internally, in the double court house the usual association of main living room and chapel is doubled by an extra chapel suite positioned in this case in the additional courtyard. In terms of social psychology, the Mehrabian’s ‘non-reciprocity’ principle applies here: the dominant family residing in the main living room 6 of No. 3 Straight Street controls a larger territory and allows for interaction, while in the secondary living room 4 the ‘approach-avoidance’ component prevails with stronger privacy mechanisms; further, the most dominant family of the entire complex residing in the main living room 5 of the No. 1 Old Street sector, though not controlling the inside network, allows both for interaction with outside (see its direct connection with the business interface space I-1 and VII-7 where tablets are found) and ‘approach-avoidance’ on the inside level (it controls the main chapel 6, and the most important archives). The two main living rooms 5 and 6 dominate visually. While the external relations of No. 1 Old Street are interfaced by a strong boundary with a complex set of corridors and room (I-1, VII-7) designed to map relations with formal guests (i.e. clients, official people), this interface space is not present in No. 3 Straight Street which spatialises more informal relations with the outside world.

All the relevant dynamics of family sociology evidenced by the texts, that is the shift towards intensification of activities involving silver, have thus a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific accessibility values which are traceable archaeologically, thereby stressing intersemiotic corroboration between verbal and nonverbal sign systems and little opacity. However, the dissonance between the textual number of four resident actors and the actual two residential spaces 4 and 9 available on the ground floor shows propositional, modal and semiotic opacity and a higher level of indeterminacy and underdetermination, that is a certain heterosemiotic relation between the sociology of the textual house and that of the archaeological house. This can be explained only if one allows for some additional residential space on the upper floor or cohabitation of the less powerful actors (Šamaš-ilum and Ьumba) with their relatives. While I have stressed before that heterosemiotic relations are at the very heart of sign rapport in the creation of meaning, this dissonance must then be explained in this specific context. On the cross-cultural level, owing to the lack of archaeological evidence for the upper floor and cohabitation, we face in this specific case some difficulties when we try to interpret and so reconstruct their cultural implicit deixis, thus showing modal and semiotic opacity. However, such a dissonance may be also imputed to dynamics inherent to Mesopotamian culture which have to do with power relations and thus determine propositional opacity. As in No. 2 Church Lane, textual evidence from No. 1 Baker’s Square

2. Verbal messages Forty-six texts show the family history for a short period of time (1834–1804 BC) and confirm the presence of an extended family with vertical inheritance and complex social inequality among the resident families (Brusasco 2000: 164–165). In fact, Ea-nāΒir’s family resides in the main living room 5 of No. 1 Old Street, while his father Sîn-magir lives in the additional main living room 6 of No. 3 Straight Street and Sîn-magir’s junior brother UrNingal occupies the living room 4 of the same house (see 97

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Table 4.14a Nonverbal messages from No.1 Old Street/3 Straight Street, AH, Ur.

11 6

X

5

10

4

3

7

5

6

8

X1

9

2

14

3

2

1

7

I

VII

4 III

Street

N. 3 Straight Street

I PHASE

11 6

X

5

10

4

3

7

2

8

1

7

I

VII

4

6

13

X1

5

9

14

2

12

3

III

Street

II PHASE

11 6

X

5

10

4

?

3

2 1

7

I

VII

7

5

6

4

3

X1

12

13

14

9

8

2 III

Street

III PHASE

98

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE Table 4.14b Nonverbal messages from No.1 Old Street/3 Straight Street, AH, Ur. O = 1 Old Street, S = 3 Straight Street. I PHASE

II PHASE

High Accessibility OR2 Courtyard OR3 Stairway/Passage SR2 Courtyard SR6 Main Living r. SR7 Passage SR10 Chapel

A.I. 67-76 73 69 76 70 72 67

C.I. 2-3 3 2 2 2 2 2

Middle Accessibility OR1 Entrance-lobby OR4 Lavatory OR5 Main Living r. OR7 Kitchen (ORX Living r., I Fl. SR3 Lavatory SR4 Entrance suite SR5 Private Lavatory SR8 Service/Storage SR9 Kitchen SR11 Chapel SR14 Stairway

89-96 89 93 91 89 98 96 92 90 96 96 87 96

0-2 2 0 0 2 0) 0 2 0 0 0 0 0

Low Accessibility ORI Entrance suite ORVII Entrance suite OR6 Chapel SRIII Entrance-lobby (SRX1 Living r., I Fl.

107-111 107 107 111 110 125 1877

0-2 2 2 0 2 0)

High Accessibility OR2 Courtyard OR3 Stairway/Passage SR2 Courtyard SR6 Main Living r. SR7 Passage SR10 Chapel

74-86 86 80 78 74 78 75

4-5 5 4 4 4 4 4

Low Accessibility ORI Entrance suite ORVII Entrance suite OR6 Chapel (ORX Living r., I Fl. SR12 Service room SR13 Service room

113-128 124 124 128 131 116 116 2286

0-3 3 3 0 0) 3 3

High Accessibility OR2 Courtyard OR3 Stairway/Passage SR2 Courtyard SR6 Man Living r. SR7 Passage SR10 Chapel

A.I. 74-86 86 80 78 74 78 75

C.I. 0-6 6 4 7 0 6 6

Middle Accessibility OR1 Entrance-lobby OR4 Lavatory OR5 Main Living r. OR7 Kitchen (ORX Living r., I Fl. SRIII Entrance-lobby SR3 Entrance-lobby SR4 Living room SR5 Private Lavatory SR8 Service/Storage SR9 Kitchen SR11 Archive room SR14 Stairway

96-106 104 108 106 104 91 98 98 100 96 97 97 97 100

0-4 5 0 0 4 0) 4 3 0 0 4 3 0 0

Low Accessibility ORI Entrance suite ORVII Entrance suite OR6 Chapel SR12 Service entr. SR13 Service room (SRX Living r., I Fl.

113-128 124 124 128 113 114 127 2279

5 4 0 4 4 0)

Middle Accessibility OR1 Entrance-lobby OR4 Lavatory OR5 Main Living r. OR7 Kitchen (ORX Living r., I Fl. SRIII Entrance-lobby SR3 Lavatory SR4 Living room SR5 Private Lavatory SR8 Service/Storage SR9 Kitchen SR11 Archive room SR14 Stairway

96-108 104 108 106 104 111 98 100 100 96 97 97 97 100

0-4 3 0 0 3 0) 4 0 0 0 3 3 0 0

III PHASE

99

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING Table 4.14c No. 1 Old Street/3 Straight Street, AH, Ur: verbal-nonverbal sign interaction showing an overall intersemiotic rapport and a heterosemiotic conflict for symbolic traits dealing with power relations. Nonverbal meaning House Plan

Verbal meaning Family Genealogy

Residents’ activities

▲ ▲ Sîn-magir Ur-Ningal (1834 BC)

I PHASE

▲ Ea-nāΒir (Geme-Eštar) (1812 BC) I PHASE

Ea-nāΒir Sîn-magir Ur-Ningal (1808 BC)

II PHASE

Ea-nāΒir Sîn-magir (1804 BC)

III PHASE

100

Ur-Ningal

Private business: Large and local scale copper trade (exchanged with silver, garments and sesame oil, silver rings, baskets and headbands) with Tilmun, dealing with investors and middlemen from Ur, as well as with workers for the procurement of some export items such as baskets and oil (Ea-nāΒir; his daughter Geme-Eštar: only local payment to workers for wool and textiles);

Local scale delivery and procurement of sesame oil, grain and wool, dealing with workers for procurement of oil and baskets, silver loans, partnership with Ea-nāΒir (Sîn-magir; UrNingal: only oil delivery).

DYNAMIC INTERACTION OF SEMIOTIC SYSTEMS THROUGH THE HOUSE CYCLE tablets’ provenance). While Sîn-magir’s (and his brother’s) activities are on a local scale and aim at the procurement of export items (sesame oil, grain and wool, baskets and headbands, cloths, UET V, 307, 587, from chapel 10 and passage 7) for the son’s international trade, Ea-nāsir is a seafaring merchant of international reputation involved in long distance expeditions (alik Tilmun: ‘one who travels to Tilmun’, modern Bahrain) for the acquisition of copper ingots in exchange of silver, garments and sesame oils (UET V, 520, 554, 661, 673, found in courtyard 2, entrance 7, lobby 1, chapel 6) (Oppenheim 1954: 10–11). The highly official character of Ea-nāΒir’s business relations is well shown by the presence, amongst others, of a letter from Šumi-abum who has the function of wakil tamkāri (‘chief of the merchants’) in Ur (UET V, 403; Leemans 1950: 81–95; Leemans 1960: 51; Leemans 1968: 174). From the letters of investors (also the palace, UET 5, 667: 4, 123, 805; UET 5, 20, 81) who supply trading capital to Ea-nāsir and give him instructions for importing copper (ca. 5,553 kilograms, UET 5, 796; Van De Mieroop 1992: 136–37) it seems clear that Ea-nāsir himself resides at Tilmun for some period in order to accomplish his affairs (UET V, 20); he may have brought his letters with him when returning to his house at Ur. Ea-nāsir’s daughter GemeEštar is actively involved in the local payments to workmen concerning the production of wool and textiles, thus showing that women of the merchant class carried out business for themselves, supplying textiles to their male relatives working abroad and possibly obtaining personal profits from the trade (Barber 1994: 164–184). If copper ingots are imported to Ur by private citizens in exchange for Mesopotamian products, then at least the courtyard (UET V) and some of the surrounding rooms were probably reserved for storing such valuable goods (export and import items) (Leemans 1960: 40, note 2). There is thus a complex inequality between a father, that is a powerful merchant involved in local trade, and a son, namely a even more powerful businessman involved in long distance expeditions and official relations (palace and temple). The high standing of both individuals would explain the duplex model whereby two connected houses with double chapels and double main living rooms express a complex social inequality between the main resident families.

and the segregation of his brother’s/cousin UrNingal’s residential space 4 is paralleled by the more powerful business position of the former actor, this does not apply when the entire network is examined: the complex inequality between a father Sîn-magir, that is a powerful merchant involved in local trade, and his son Ea-nāΒir, namely a even more powerful businessman involved in long distance expeditions and official relations does not match with the higher degree of integration of Sîn-magir’s residential space 6 and his higher control on the internal territory; (c) The position of visual dominance of the main living rooms 5 and 6 inhabited by the dominant families of Ea-nāΒir and his father Sîn-magir matches Sommer’s social psychology model; (d) The presence of large scale and official business carried out by Ea-nāΒir matches the introverted orientation of these very deep charts, hinting at discrete solidarity and ‘approach-avoidance’ towards the outside world; with respect to the models of spatial solidarity, the stronger physical barriers and formal written regulations postulated on the grounds of social psychology studies is supported by the textual evidence of relatively more formalised written regulations which have to do with a complex and official network of business transactions involving a series of investors, middlemen, and local personnel etc.; (e) There is a correlation between the structured entrance suite and international business on the one hand and between the normal entrance suite and local business on the other: while the presence of Ea-nāΒir’s international trade and official relations correlates with the existence of the double structured entrance suites I-1 and VII-7 to negotiate such business, the local scale activities (also with neighbours or kin) of his father Sîn-magir aiming at the procurement of local craft items for Ea-nāΒir’s business, take the usual spatial feature of a more reduced entrance suite (simple entrance suite III, and service entrance 12– 13); (f) The architectural change of house layout, network chart and consequent increase of accessibility value due to the construction in the final two occupations of the entrance/service sector 12–13 in the No. 3 Straight Street sector correlates with a shift in the family activities between 1813 and 1804 BC: Sîn-magir’s local business transactions increase sharply in this decade (see dates on Sîn-magir’s registered deeds dealing with large collection of export items) possibly as a result of his son stronger involvement in international business which would require intensification of local crafts’ procurement and more silver to be exchanged for copper (see construction of entrance/service suite 12–13 and entrance room 3 in the II phase); such intensification is likely to have determined towards the end of the house cycle, the third phase, a reduction of such intensive local relations and a need of additional storage space, thereby causing the conversion of the entrance/service sector 12 into a storage space for the collected products; there is thus a correlation between an

3. Conclusion (a) While in the initial occupation the fit between the number of two residential loci (5 and 6) and the actual three resident families may be achieved only if one allows either for an additional residential space X on the first floor (see solid brick stairways 3 and 14), or cohabitation of the less powerful actor Ur-Ningal with his brother’s family (as an unmarried person), in the last two phases the existence of three main actors points to one extended family with patrilineal succession and matches with the identification of the three living rooms 4, 5, and 6; (b) While the Mehrabian ‘non-reciprocity’ principle applies within the single courtyard house No. 3 Straight Street in which the asymmetry between the stronger integration of Sîn-magir’s residential space 6 101

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING increasingly complex architectural morphology with stronger physical barriers (see higher accessibility values for the construction of more specialised spaces) and intensification of written business regulations in the final occupations of the house; (g) The fact that Ea-nāΒir’s daughter is actively involved in local business matches with the integrated positions of those spaces in which her activities have a stronger visibility, namely the courtyard 2, the main living room 5 and the kitchen 9.

only possible, strategic solution to spatialise the combination of Ea-nāΒir’s international trade and Sînmagir’s need of procuring local export crafts and moving them to his son’s house. In social terms the two main resident families point to different directions: the No. 1 Old Street’s residents towards the outside or complex international relations, and the No. 3 Straight Street’s ones in the direction of the inside, thereby highlighting differences based on strength on different dimensions implying some kind of complex inequality. The contexts in which action takes place never repeat themselves exactly and cannot be fixed in rigid chart morphologies which do not yield all the contextual information about societal and psychological issues. Within the internal level of Mesopotamian culture, propositional opacity shows that the Mesopotamians associate language with portions of their world not in a deterministic and schematic way, but rather they fantasise different scenarios in different contexts. There is a schematic directionality at work: while within single court houses Mehrabian’s ‘non-reciprocity’ principle applies, in double court structures with more complex internal relations the residents’ power derives from their ability to apply properly and strategically the formal rules in a context in which they have to manage a mix of international trade and local procurement of export items in the contingent spatial situation of a cramped quarter of the city, thus generating particular accessibility values specific to this context. Ea-nāΒir’s and Sîn-magir’s power is not based on any objective ‘reality’, but on their construction of reality which is spatialised in a specific way. Textual structures inherent to archival information are in charge here and they show that it is again the more symbolic and implicit aspects of social relations related to power, cult and business, that have a more profound bearing on spatial organisation and account for this specific symbolism of network chart variability (positioning of the residential spaces with respect to the chapel and the interface business space). It follows that one cannot look simply at quantitative parameters (accessibility values), but the qualitative/symbolic difference among spaces and their positioning in the network must be also considered. This dissonance is also the result of our reconstruction of ancient nonverbal sign systems being too biased by our perceptual world and by a too static application of syntax analysis (modal and semiotic opacity). Propositional, modal and semiotic opacity would also apply to the mismatch between the textual number of resident actors and the actual residential spaces available on the ground floor in the final phase. As explained above, this has to do both with power relations, that is Ur-Ningal’s inferior social position in the family which accounts for his invisibility.

All the main dynamics of family sociology evidenced by the texts (complex social inequality, discrete solidarity, the shift towards intensification of activities involving the procurement of export items and their storage, gender roles) have thus a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and take specific morphological features and accessibility values which can be predicted by spatial analysis, thereby stressing intersemiotic corroboration between verbal and nonverbal sign systems with small opacity. However, as shown by point (b), the character of this particular double court house, which is not thought out before building but is the result of the accidental connection of two neighbouring houses through the cutting of a common doorway (locus 3 of No. 1 Old Street), as well as the particular business needs of the household, determine a heterosemiotic relation between the sociology of the textual house and that of the archaeological house. Mehrabian ‘non-reciprocity’ principle does not work when the entire network is examined: the dominant actor Ea-nāΒir residing in the main living room 5 does not control the internal network which is conversely under the control of his father. The question is how we are to discern this anomalous pattern on the grounds of morphological analysis alone. One can propose the following contextual explanation which refines the deterministic use of morphological analysis by means of a careful reading of chart morphology and its subtle nonverbal cues. While the presence of bulky archives in the No. 1 Old Street sector points to the most dominant role of this house, the moderate integration of Ea-nāΒir’s living room 5 along with its being more directly connected to the structured business sectors I-1 and VII-7 would show how dominance is strategically negotiated between a discrete control of the internal affairs and a much stronger supervision of the structured interior-exterior interface suites, while leaving to his father Sîn-magir a stronger control on the internal circulation of export items from the No. 3 Straight Street sector to the No. 1 Old Street area (through the common door). The connection between No. 1 Old Street and No. 3 Straight Street through the common doorway is then the

102

Chapter 5

The spatial dimension of legal and technical discourse

This chapter examines the sections of the Code of Hammurapi (CH) dealing with private laws in order to test the relationship between the written provisions and their bearing on domestic space. Reference to textual information from the Assyrian commercial colonies in Anatolia, and official documents from southern and central Mesopotamia (Early Dynastic Lagash, Ur III and Sargonic archives, Old Babylonian Mari and Karana) is drawn upon to gain a deeper insight on the legal status of men and women and domestic customs. Since in juridical discourse truth turns out to be problematical, the sufficient semiosis approach looks at meaning negotiation (rather than the mere checking mechanism of truth) of how juridical texts are both filled by nonverbal, proxemic sign systems and may recursively determine space construction. Thus, the provisions of the Code are analysed within their social context, that is a reconstruction of how law operate within society (e.g. actual judicial procedures) so as to have a context against which to assess the collections of laws.

succession from father to son/s and patrilocal residence prevail (see predominance of patronymics). Vertical inheritance is linked to the transferring of property to both males and females (see Goody’s “diverging devolution”; 1976: 6). This is clearly witnessed by the Code, inheritance documents and dowry lists respectively. Hence collaterals are left aside as residuals heirs or may be also completely eliminated. In vertical systems of property devolution heirs are sought not merely as general recruits to the lineage but as specific descendants whose main task is to continue the family line. This same stress on property transmission is inherent in the system, as one of the major aims of lineal succession is to preserve the status of offspring in a society with different strata based upon property-holding and other exclusive rights (i.e. the elder son privileges; Goody 1976: 89). At Ur, Larsa, Sippar and other sites the combined analysis of textual and archaeological evidence allows one to associate the chapel suite with the property normally inherited by the eldest son, while other loci may be taken over by junior members. This pattern is also supported by the inheritance texts in which the ‘ceremonial table’ (the paššur sakkim) inherited by the firstborn as his share was to serve for offerings to the dead and the eldest son receives ‘a share, together with the shrine’ (Matouš 1949: 168; Postgate 1992: 99). In this libation ceremony, known as a kisega/kispum, water and food offerings were presented over the family tomb, while prayers were spoken naming the dead and his ancestors in order to strengthen the patrilinear identity (Skaist 1980: 123–128). Textual evidence from outside the Mesopotamian core also describes the duties of the main heir (e.g. Susa and Nuzi, Postgate 1992: 99, note 145; and Emar, Van der Toorn 1996: 6). These gods are primarily ancestors and family deities or protective spirits (Van der Toorn 1994: 7). Since the equal division of property and real estate between successive generations of brothers may determine an excessive fragmentation, different strategies are employed to reduce the equal subdivision of the paternal estate, thus leaving a larger share (usually at least 10 per cent) in the hands of the eldest and/or favourite who may have certain privileges and duties (Leemans 1986: 15–22; Postgate 1992: 99). After the death of the father the patrimony (everything non-destructible ‘from straw to gold’, but also temple offices, debts and duties; Postgate 1992: 96–7) is usually divided among the heirs, the married brothers normally establish independent households (if they have not done so yet) or cohabit in the same house. Since joint property ownership is problematic in cramped urban centres with the limited availability of space and existing property rights, when a house is divided, the family member who

The forty-two surviving columns of the Code of Hammurapi represent the main legal work before the classical world. This code is only the most complete and longest of four such collections, of which the earliest belongs to the Ur III Dynasty (Ur-Nammu). There is a considerable debate on the part of legal historians as to whether the Code and its antecedents can be used as evidence of the substantive law of the period, or whether they are literary compositions of no practical value, or something in between. As shown by Postgate, ‘they are not codes if by that is meant that they deal comprehensively and methodically with all aspects of the law, but collections of individuals provisions which may be considered laws, in that they are fixing principles or practices to be applied in the administration of the law’ (1992: 289). Thus, the codes are probably rooted in actual judgments which then become considered as “leading cases” through their elaboration into literary form and can consequently be considered of practical application (Kraus 1984: 9–14; Westbrook 1988: 3–4). Family laws of the Code of Hammurapi and actual procedures Male inheritance and succession: fathers and sons The law of succession is discussed only incidentally in certain special cases, while there is no statement to the general law which has to be discovered by inference from isolated provisions and from the actual inheritance texts. The Code of Hammurapi and the family archives show that Mesopotamian families are generally marked by a male kinship of society whereby vertical inheritance and 103

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING inherits it must compensate the other heirs (brothers) for any difference of value. The law of succession of the Code does not entirely fit in with the actual judicial practices of the private texts. The sons normally divide their father’s property ‘in equal shares’ (Sum. UR.A.SI.GA = Bab. mitΪāriš) except where the eldest son is entitled to an ‘additional share’ (Sum. SIB.TA = Bab. elātum), or special provisions are made for a favourite son (CH §165: ‘to his heir who finds favour with him’). Since in the Code of Hammurapi there is no direct reference to the preferential right of the eldest son which is found at Ur, Larsa, Nippur and Kutalla, (“additional share”: elātum) it then appears to be a peculiarity of southern Babylonia (Leemans 1968: 188), later to be found both in tablets from Arrapha and in the Assyrian Laws. The Code and the inheritance texts show that property is divided among each surviving male line, because the male descendants of a dead brother would also inherit, and the next of kin (Postage 1992: 98, Text 5:6).

marker of the system of co-ownership of the family property, the inheritance system aims at preserving the ancestral property (field, orchard, house) of the family in the possession of the agnates by means of an exchange: a daughter’s share devolves to her sons and thus goes outside the family, but this loss is compensated by acquiring the property of an incoming wife (CH §162). The Code of Hammurapi and archives shed also light on the position of women in Mesopotamian society. The Code tells us something about the position of husband and wife: while “to take” which connotes “to cohabit” is referred to the husband, the wife is said “to enter a man’s house” or that “the man of her heart may take her” (CH §137, §156, §172). While the law establishes that it is the ‘contract’ (riksātum) which constitutes the legal condition of marriage (with the ‘feast’ kirrum, and parental consent in Eshnunna ‘Law Code’, §§ 27–28), this also shows that in Babylonia a man marries a woman in that she is the object and not the subject of the act. In the contract of marriage a woman’s parents act on her behalf and the woman is not technically a part to this document; also such a contract is invariably a deed dealing with the transaction in question between the two parties (CH §7, §122, §123). Marriage in Mesopotamia is a link not just between two individuals, but between their respective families. One can distinguish four main stages in the marriage process: 1. the betrothal, 2. ongoing exchanges or payments both by the groom’s side (terhatum and kirrum) and the bride’s side (biblum), 3. the actual move of the girl to the father-in-law’s house, and 4. the cohabitation with the husband (see UET V, 636, No. 7 Quiet Street, AH, Ur; Postgate 1992: 102). As convincingly shown by Postgate, ‘since the bride money was often returned at the conclusion of the wedding process’ this is not Kaufehe (‘purchase marriage’) but probably ‘a cautionary down-payment or earnest of good faith’ (1992: 103). The next step varies for the bride (if too young) may continue to live in her father’s house for some time (CH §130, ‘inchoate marriage’), or she can go to live in her father-in-law’s house (CH §141, not coresident brides, egia/kallatum, are recorded in the family census from Kish; Postgate 1992: 103). The virginity of the bride is also of primary importance because the family wants to be sure that it is the legitimate male line which will be perpetuated: the contract of marriage reports that the husband is the one who has ‘loosed the dress-pin of her virginity’, and there are legal cases where the bride’s virginity is contended. But the bride is not merely a good owned by the patriarchal family for the laws clearly show the existence of a strong taboo on incest (CH §§155–6 if a father-in-law ‘knew’ a bride of his sons, the father is condemned to drowning; cited in Postgate 1992: 104). Moreover, gleanings from Sumerian literature show that the role of ancient women is not very different from that of Western women until recent times (Asher-Greve 2002:16–7). Mythological accounts show a substantial equality between the sexes which both emerge from an androgynous body (amīlu, ‘human being’), even though this may not be reflected in the actual gender system because of the sole emphasis on the procreative

Wives, daughters and concubines The legal codes and private documents show that Mesopotamian women have inheritance rights both to movable and immovable property. The presence of dowry shows that property is not retained within the patrilineal descent group but is also distributed to children of the female sex and thus diffused outside the household. The Code of Hammurapi makes it clear that, although sons (mārū) inherit their father’s property (CH §165, §166, §167, §§170–71), a woman has the right to inherit either a šeriktum (dowry: CH §§163–4) for her marriage or a share of her father’s property if she is not married. While after the death of the testator the estate is divided among those sons who have come of age, also different categories of women can inherit property: a share devolves to a sister who has had no šeriktum (dowry), to the widow (CH §§171–72) who has not obtained any nudunnûm (“settlement”), and to some priestesses (CH §§180–82). Since the women concerned are unmarried, the main objection to female inheritance, namely that the property can be dispersed outside the family through marriage, does not apply in these cases. In fact, a woman’s share reverts in the same way as the dowry to her father’s house if she dies childless (CH §§162–64). Inheritance of a share by any lay daughter who has received no šeriktum can be inferred from Old Babylonian documents in which daughters not infrequently share (‘whatever belong to their father’) with their brothers the family estate (Skaist 1980: 124) but whether these shares are equal or not to those of the brothers does not appear. Since daughters either marry or become priestesses, in both of which event they receive a šeriktum, the question of their inheriting a normal share seldom arises and this would account for the small number of such documents. However, a lay daughter may not have real ownership of her inheritance (both šeriktum or share) but only a life-interest in it, since at her death her sons or (if she dies childless) her brothers receive her possessions (CH §162, §173). Thus, while the right of the brothers who represent the agnatic family may be a 104

THE SPATIAL DIMENSION OF LEGAL AND TECHNICAL DISCOURSE power of semen. Female sexual power is also clear from sexual potency rituals recited by women to enhance the sexual ability of men to procure them sexual pleasure (Biggs 2002: 72). But such female sexual specificity is not associated with our Western structural idea of nature as opposed to culture, but the sexualised body represents the civilised one (Bahrani 2002: 56).

involves the matching of resources (dowry and bridal gift). Serial marriages and concubinage are thus found in those societies where some kind of dowry prevails, societies that are also mainly monogamous or in which plural marriages represent a small proportion of the total. Thus, the predominant pattern is that of one man, one wife. The exceptions known to us are where the first wife is incapacitated by illness (barren), when Hammurapi’s Code permits the husband to take a second wife (CH §148). An exceptional case is UruKAgina’s reform of the practice of polyandry which is considered a social abuse (Postgate 1992: 106). As for adoption, there are two different strategies, depending upon whether close women are preferred as heiresses to more distant males. The prevailing pattern is that of the adoption (‘sonship’: mārūtum) of a man in the absence of a male heir. While the adopted may be related or not to the family, his major role is clear: in return for inheriting the property the adopted son has to take care of the surviving parents, to perpetuate the family, and to perform the ancestral cult after the adopter’s death (CH §§185–93). However, also the presence of epiclerate (the institution of the ‘inheriting daughter’, epikleros, in default of male heirs) is attested in Mesopotamian society: the selected daughter acts as a social male, bearing children for her own natal group and establishing an uxorilocal marriage in a predominantly virilocal system of postmarital residence (Kramer 1987: 109). This custom may represent a softening of the strict patrilineal system, but it is certainly a preventative measure which would increase for the sake of the family continuity.

However, the issue of the potential failure of vertical inheritance comes to the fore when, in the absence of offspring (or a son), the husband does not wish to transfer his property to collaterals. In Mesopotamia as in other Eurasian societies (Greece and Ancient Rome, China), an heirless man can cope with this problem by pursuing two main strategies: adding wives or adopting children. The Code of Hammurapi shows that divorce and remarriage or concubinage (i.e. slave girl or concubine) are all possible solutions. Divorce entails that the husband be a rich man as, in addition to restoring the šeriktum, he has to give her “silver to the value of her bridal gift”, and pay the bridal gift (terhatum) of the new wife (CH §§138–40). While the reason for divorcing a wife is mainly her being barren, there are also cases in which she has committed adultery, has been guilty of extravagance, neglected her domestic tasks, and has brought his husband into contempt (CH §141). Although we glean from law and custom that Mesopotamian women are better treated than in many modern societies, the law still shows asymmetric relations (see lexical compilations ana ittišu): if the woman rejects her marriage she is condemned to death by drowning or throwing off a tower, or to be sold into slavery, whereas if the man refuses her he merely paid her a fine as compensation (considerable value though: at least £10,000, reported in Postgate 1992: 105, and note 163). Note that when the wife is not found guilty of adultery, she is free of remarrying but only when her children are grown up (a precaution to preserve their father’s property for them, CH §137). However, divorce is only acceptable in extreme circumstances (misbehaviour, childless marriage), and there is evidence of the social condemnation attached to an unjustifiable divorce. The conditions of divorce are heavily determined by the presence (or absence) of sons, because if the wife has children she is thus linked to the patriarchal family (if childless, she may return to her father’s house or go elsewhere). It is interesting to note that the Code of Hammurapi does not hint at divorce after bearing children (CH §138). Thus, as to the strategy of adding inferior wives, an infertile marriage does not automatically end up with a humiliating divorce, because the wife has the right to provide sons for the family by means of a slave-girl or concubine (without the marriage contract) who can bear her children (CH §§ 170–4). The sons of such a union belong to the wife and carry full rights of inheritance, thus assuring the continuity of the family line (CH §163) (Postgate 1992: 105). Although there is virtually no restriction against additional union of lower status such as concubinage (CH §§170–71), it may be too expensive to repeat the arrangement simultaneously with another wife in that marriage

As regards women (and men) outside the patrilinear household, they may encourage specific patterns of residence. The legal documents show that if a repudiated wife or a widow does not go back to her father’s family, ‘she might go after the man of her heart’, and there are cases in which a woman ‘upped and left her in-law’s house’ (Postgate 1992: 106). We also know of the existence of prostitutes, and these normally work in public spaces of the city or in the countryside, while there is also evidence of ‘single women’, the harimtu, not living in the patriarchal household, whose social and sexual independence becomes the emblem of sexual freedom in current poetry (Assante 2002: 30, 32). Seductresses, witches and magicians are also documented and their social status depends on occupation and circumstances. If one gives credit to the late story of temple prostitution reported by Herodotus, it is possible that already in the Old Babylonian period some illegitimate children and/or orphans were exploited by the temple in that kind of activity (Postgate 1992: 106). Moreover, third sex (eunuchs, transsexuals, etc.) is also attested both iconographically (Ur-nanshe, the singer) and textually, and they are perceived as divine creatures with a high place in society and magical powers (Reade 2002: 553). Additional evidence on the important social position of women can be assumed by comparison between Assyrian and Babylonian textual sources. The powerful effects of 105

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING trading important raw materials and women active involvement in textile business are shown by the Assyrian commercial colonies in Anatolia of the beginning of the second millennium BC and contemporary official documents from central and south Mesopotamia (Mari, Karana, and Ur). While the overall difference between Babylonian and Assyrian societies must not be overlooked and the peculiar character of the Assyrian colonies must be also acknowledged, there are nonetheless important common traits in the trade organisation and gender roles between the two areas. At Kanesh, the Assyrian trading colony kārum, the Assyrian merchants exchanged tin and textiles for gold and silver, and kept their business records on cuneiform tablets in their residences. We know from the letters that the trader’s wives write to them from far away in Assur (the capital of Assyria), and that some of the wives, daughters, and sisters carry out business for themselves, supplying valuable textiles to their male relatives six hundred miles away in Anatolia and gaining relevant profits (tadmiqtum) (Barber 1994: 169–71). From such letters (e.g. Lamassi, the wife of the merchant Pushu-ken, and the daughter Waqartum) we glean that, unlike the Islamic women of later times who were secluded into harems, these Assyrian women had the freedom to go out to marketplaces and buy textiles for cloth-making, and they could also seal their produce, and negotiate directly with the caravan drivers to carry the merchandise (Veenhof 2002: 661). This pattern applies also to south Mesopotamia. The dowry tablets show that women of the merchant class which owned cylinder seals and textile tools (looms, spindles, and all those sheep) were thus all equipped for the kind of home-based trade carried out by the Assyrian Lamassi (e.g. Rubātum, Кab-ilišu’s wife, in No. 2 Church Lane at AH, Ur) (Barber 1994: 172; Dalley 1980: 53–74). Indeed, some of the cloths regularly transported to Anatolia from Assyria are specifically Akkadian ones (Veenhof 1972: 98; Barber 1994: 164– 184). The Ea-nāΒir’s example from No. 1 Old Street/3 Straight Street (AH) at Ur clearly shows that also Babylonian women were active in business, acting as textile suppliers to their menfolk travelling abroad and possibly obtaining relevant profit from the trade to use for their own ends (Barber 1994: 173). Just like the Assyrian Lamassi and her daughter Waqartum, GemeEštar, Ea-nāΒir’s daughter, is actively involved in the local payments to workmen concerning the production of export items such as wool and textiles for his father’s seafearing trade with Tilmun (modern Bahrain). We also have intriguing information about their household. Lamassi had several children, and while her daughter Waqartum stayed in Assur and undoubtedly learned to weave, Waqartum’s husband, like her brothers, joined her father’s firm in Anatolia thereby matching the Babylonian pattern of family business firms and extended families (e.g. Ea-nāΒir’s firm with his father, his uncle, and his daughter in No. 1 Old Street/3 Straight Street; the ‘Imlikum’ group with his wife in No. 8–10 Paternoster Row at AH, Ur, etc.). Apart from textile production, in all types of house Models of southern Mesopotamia women currently engaged in different kinds of business:

field sales and rentals (seal impressions of wife and daughter of the merchant Sîn-magir, Model 1, House H, TA, Nippur), receiving of payments (merchant Dumuzigāmil’s wife, No. 3 Niche Lane, AH, Ur), sale of slaves, children’s or slaves’ adoptions with or without their husbands (Ningal-rēmet and his priest husband Ibašši-ili, Model 1, No. 8–10 Paternoster Row, AH, Ur), dealing with the temple for debts contracted by their husbands (Ubayatum, the wife of Sîn-iqišam, Model 2, No. 1 Broad Street, AH, Ur). However, they only occasionally act as epiclerates (inheriting daughters) possibly in the absence of male heirs, and carry out business (commodities such as wool, and cloths) and money lending for themselves (see MaΒija’s cylinder seal, Model 1, House E, TA, Nippur). Moreover, the Ama-é and Quradum businesswomen’s archives of the Sargonic period, as well as the private archive of the Ur-Utu family at Sippar show that the wives or sister-in-laws of the temple hierarchy had a high rank in society and were fully enabled to handle their economic affairs (Colbow 2002: 90). As regards labour divisions, an overview of administrative documents from the Ur III state (Sigrist 1998: 157–67), and palace archives of Mari and Karana (i.e. Old Babylonian archives of Iltani, the daughter of king Samu-Addu of Karana, and queen Shibtu of Mari, Dalley 1984; Batto 1974: 27) in the middle Euphrates shed further light on gender roles and activities that, although carried out in public workshops (also by slaves), may mirror domestic activities. In fact, the households of the palace or the temple must reproduce, though at a much larger scale, the functions and roles of the private households. Women were active, not necessarily by choice, in textile manufacture, helping with the food, milling grain, some special kind of fieldwork and agriculture (gardening), overseeing beer production, churning and the preparation of dairy products, wetnursing and door-keeping, while men were millers, brewers, or those involved with textiles were most likely employed for heavier work on a much larger scale (dyeing the wool or ‘finishing’ the woven cloths, Dalley 1984: 103, 109), or making covers, and linings out of sheep’s wool or goat hair (Steinkeller 1980: 79–100). Moreover, women of the merchant class were not the only ones managing textile establishments, but queens such as Iltani of Karana and Shibtu of Mari supervised textile-related workshops, too, but for the palace institution (royal ‘gifts’) rather than for themselves (Dalley 1984: 82; Barber 1994: 175–80). Unusual professions are also listed such as singers and musicians of both sexes, while at Mari there was a female doctor and at least nine women were scribes. After the queen, the women who enjoyed a higher social status were probably the priestesses. This palace system of manufacturing and distributing clothing had its antecedents in the Early Dynastic Period (e.g. Sumerian city-state of Lagash, 2400 BC, Lambert 1961: 422–443). Although there were both male and female overseers, the former earned more than the latter (half a measure versus one-sixth of a measure of rations), while children (either 106

THE SPATIAL DIMENSION OF LEGAL AND TECHNICAL DISCOURSE the children of the women or orphans) are assigned even less, namely a twelfth of a unit of grain each. As to nonagricultural labour, metallurgy, tanning, pottery manufacture, fishing and navigation, as well as animal husbandry and commerce were important activities carried out mainly by men, while scribes (mainly men) formed the main body of the administrative corps.

thing to do (Dalley 1984: 70). The manumission or adoption of slaves is well known, and the former would entail the removal of the slave mark by a barber (‘clearing the forehead’, CH §§226-7). The spatial dimension of the Law The analysis of the interaction between verbal and nonverbal sign systems suggest how legal regulations on family sociology can be divided into to different social traits showing an increasingly sharper heterosemiotic relation (propositional, modal and semiotic opacity) with their archaeological nonverbal referents depending on their degree of abstraction and symbolic character. While technical laws of inheritance (e.g. CH §165 reference to an additional gift, and the 10% preferential share to the eldest son), as well as the information on domestic slavery, the lack of female seclusion, and the gender division of labour shown by the texts match with the actual organisation of space and the predictions of chart morphology, an increasingly weaker corroboration is present for those more symbolic legal (and literary) traits which have to do with kinship system, marriage type or gender roles: patrilocality and patrilineality, vertical inheritance, ‘diverging devolution’ of property, endogamy (in-marriage: Father’s Brother’s Daughter marriage), monogamy or concubinage, prohibited premarital sex and incest taboo. This pattern matches the ‘sufficient semisosis’ approach whereby the more symbolic (or socially relevant) the discourse, the broader the spectrum of variation of what sort of nonverbal material is re-elaborated by language.

Finally, while the above shows an approach in which the term ‘woman’ (and man) is being unpacked, and the possible range of social identities involved are isolated, the Code of Hammurapi supports the conclusions reached for the tablets about the important position of Mesopotamian women. There is evidence that (a) women are entitled to inherit their family-property (as dowry, or, if unmarried, a share of their father’s estate), even though this property may be directly managed by their husband or/and brothers, (b) the Laws of divorce are such as to protect women from capricious divorce (i.e. the husband has to provide his divorced wife with a maintenance, CH §§138–40), (c) women can remarry after divorce and the husbands renounce all rights over their wives’ property (CH §§138–40), (d) widows have an interest for their life in their husband’s estate (CH §§171–72, §177), (e) married women are not prohibited to go out in the street unveiled (CH §131), (f) there are various categories of women, for example businesswomen and the nadītu priestesses, who carry out business transactions and own various kinds of property, including land and slaves (they had free disposition of this property, CH §40), (g) social patterns such as epiclerate and ‘single women’ are consistent phenomena.

Owing to the technical character of this type of discourse, the judicial regulations on inheritance, lack of female seclusion, and slavery have a visible impact on chart morphology and thus match the social predictions of network chart analyses. The judicial provisions of inheritance texts (preferential right of the eldest son: 10% ‘additional share’) and CH §165 (additional gift to the favourite son) show that partitive inheritance with the uneven share of property-holdings between household members takes the specific asymmetric configuration of Model 3 and 5 houses in which the chapel suite is inherited by the privileged son. Partitive inheritance without preferential share is conversely spatialised by morphologies in which no chapel suite is present, thus showing relatively more equalitarian households (Model 4, House K, TA, Nippur). Thus, the two major modifications of the general rule that all the sons inherit equal shares take specific spatial configurations and morphologies with or without the chapel suite in southern Mesopotamia. Most importantly, this fit between verbal regulations and their spatial realisation shows that we are able to predict by means of chart morphology variability alone the main patterns of inheritance. We can also infer from chart morphology that asymmetric systems (primogeniture and/or meritocracy) are designed to avoid property fragmentation, while the presence of partitive inheritance in Model 4 Houses also shows that Mesopotamia has an egalitarian, achievement-oriented ideology.

Domestic slaves While the Kish census includes only female slaves (Postgate 1992: 93), the evidence from Ur and Nippur suggests that one or more male or female slaves are found in the house; only rarely in other sites is there evidence of up to fourteen slaves in a single household (Leemans 1968: 181). Domestic slaves are rare at Nippur (House K, TA), while they occur relatively more often in most of the house Models (2, 3, 4) at Ur. These could be bought or sold by the family or can be used as pledge for the debt, and children can be sold into slavery for debts by their mothers. Domestic slaves, generally obtained from abroad through commerce and/or war, are usually specified in documents (wilid bitim) and the offspring of slaves belong to their masters. Chains are not frequently reported and a slave marking with a distinctive hair-do is the custom (CH §§226–7; Postgate 1992: 106–7). Since domestic slavery in Mesopotamia was not as diffused as in other ancient societies, the position of slaves and their treatment was relatively better since a kind of trust developed between them and their owners. For instance, female-weavers could progress to a better life by becoming religious singers (Zimri-Lim’s letter to his wife Shibtu, Batto 1974: 27). Several letters from Mari show that giving away slaves who had served faithfully for a lifetime was regarded as an insensitive 107

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING As for gender-related activities, the lack of female seclusion evidenced by the law codes and women active role in business correlate with the spatial dimensions of women. Morphological analysis shows that women were not segregated in that the spaces in which female activities have a stronger impact (see chapter 3), namely courtyards, living rooms and kitchens, are well integrated both into the network and with the outside space, thus suggesting a certain freedom of movement. That this freedom of movements is mainly directed towards textile manufacturing and trade is suggested both by textual and archaeological evidence: women engagement in textile business shown by the texts (dowries, private letters, etc.) and their taking considerable profit also match the considerable presence of spindle whorls and weights and their associations with (female) cylinder seals in spaces such a courtyards (and other spaces) which are very integrated towards the outside world. Moreover, evidence of gender-related activities through the interrelated use of figurative art and archaeological materials (figurative art showing different male and female activities and diagnostic male and female tools retrieved also archaeologically) matches the textual sources (from private archives and state workshops) on women’s and men’s main activities. The broad distribution of genderrelated activities across the main residential quarters of the house and the central courtyard would suggest the lack of gender specific loci and the natural intermingling of male and female activities in the house as a whole. This intersemiotic rapport between verbal and nonverbal sign systems suggests that the combined use of figurative art and archaeological evidence of gender-related activities is a reliable tool of analysis for detecting the labour division also in context in which written evidence is lacking or fragmentary.

the house network as a whole, they have a different kind of orientation (they are located on the opposite sides of the courtyard) which expresses different sociological meanings. Hence the spatial character of the legal provisions dealing with inheritance, gender-related activities and domestic slavery, has a visible impact on the morphology of the charts and takes specific morphological features and accessibility values thereby stressing intersemiotic corroboration between verbal and nonverbal sign systems. Within the internal level of Mesopotamian culture, there is little propositional opacity between the family’s main legal features as inferred by the texts and its referential, nonverbal meanings (actual construction of space) reconstructed archaeologically by means of proxemic, spatial analysis. This illustrates that, while the meaning and use of space cannot be prescribed by deterministic associations between human activities and house planning or chart morphology, yet, this is what was intended by the introduction of ‘linguistic’ or explicit regulatory factors such as the unequal inheritance share and the redefinition of the architecture of the internal spaces by judicial barriers (chapel suite versus other suites) that have changed tacit rules. It is not just sets of human activities and implicit codes that change but also sets of regulatory factors and textual laws which define and are defined by the use of space and both are to be considered if we are to comprehend the meanings attributed to the built environment by different societies. Written regulations and their spatial reinforcement by tacit rules are the outcome of tension and concern on strategies of property transmission to preserve the property and avoid property fragmentation. The same applies to gender-related activities and domestic slavery. Owing to the spatial character of the type of discourse dealing with gender-related tasks, that is the practical need of women to interact with the outside world for business purposes, comparison between labour division recorded in the textual sources and their archaeological, nonverbal or spatial referents shows a strong corroboration or intersemiotic relation. Likewise, the spatial character of the legal documents on slavery which emphasises their relative ease of movement shows an intersemiotic rapport. Consequently, also both axes of the directionality of language express determinacy with a specific range of spatial configurations determined by the legal provisions ruling on family social relations. On the cross-cultural level, modal and semiotic opacity is also limited for we have here a clear understanding of the contextual associations between the ‘textual family’ and its nonverbal realisation expressed by morphological analysis, thereby showing little difficulties in our interpretation and (re)construction of Mesopotamian’s cultural deixis.

Figurative art depicting slaves together with the presence of poor graves and tools located in the service sector of the house are reliable archaeological indicators of actual domestic slavery in that they match with the textual evidence on the presence of domestic slaves. Moreover, the reference in house omen to domestic slaves in the external loci of the house correlates with the external position of service areas such as kitchens, service rooms and storerooms. The non-restrictive kind of slavery evidenced by Mesopotamian texts (e.g. they are rarely chained) matches the morphology of the charts in that the spaces in which slaves’ activities have a stronger impact (see chapter 3), namely courtyards and kitchens, service rooms and storerooms are not secluded at all but are well integrated both into the network and with the outside space (see their location on the same side of the entrance sector). It is also clear here that, although network chart analysis has highlighted how the affiliative dimension between household members and slaves shown by the texts takes particularly integrated morphological features, morphological and quantitative analysis must be integrated with qualitative information regarding the orientation of the single sectors of the house (Lawrence 1990: 75). In general, although spaces such as service suites and residential areas may be equally integrated in

However, an increasing dissonance between verbal and nonverbal sign systems is present for legal regulations which have to do with more abstract and symbolic traits such as kinship system, marriage arrangements and gender roles. In fact, morphological analysis has an hard 108

THE SPATIAL DIMENSION OF LEGAL AND TECHNICAL DISCOURSE job to shed light on kinship systems (patrilineal versus matrilineal; patrilocal versus matrilocal), patterns of inheritance (vertical versus lateral), and ‘diverging devolution’ of property, endogamy (in-marriage: Father's Brother’s Daughter marriage), monogamy or concubinage, prohibited premarital sex and incest taboo. Despite kinship systems of patrilineality and patrilocality, and marriage arrangements showing the brideprice and dowry, inform the built environment and give meaning to space use in this specific context, such judicial regulations on kinship and marriage arrangements cannot be directly detected by means of spatial or nonverbal analysis alone. They have too broad, symbolic meanings to be embedded directly and be visible in the organisation of space. While one assumes implicitly that culture and built form are equivalent units in ‘scale’, culture and its component cultural traits are a vast domain, built form a small part of it and also a subset of it. The latter is, as it were, embedded in the former. Kinship and gender roles are all pervasive traits of a society in that they inform its organisation not only at the level of domestic relations and space use but also and mainly at the scale of state organisation and general power relations. This makes the nature of the relationships between such traits and domestic environment, and the nature of the translation process of one into the other, rather difficult to grasp. Thus, to see the linkage with space use one must dismantle such traits in more concrete and potentially observable social expressions such as the specifics of gender-related activities and their more latent (symbolic) aspects, that is their positioning in the circulation systems, which may begin to explain the diversity of the built environment and hence the links with cultural traits. By means of a hermeneutic move or an imaginative enterprise, inferences can be drawn on archaeological grounds about the presence of patrilocality and patrilineality, as well as the high social standing of women and the presence of female inheritance. While the prevalent depiction of males and their leadership roles in figurative art, as well as the predominance of male tools in houses may point to patriarchal systems, women left traces of their business activities in space and such spaces are not secluded from the outside world. In particular, the fact that female manufacturing tools and cylinder seals appear often associated in the archaeological record may not only suggest that women were indeed active in business but also that they may have owned and inherited some property, and the same applies to men. This may thus suggests the presence of diverging devolution of property to both male and females. We have also argued that given the emphasis on female sexual power of reproduction and kinship-renewal, as well as the multifaceted dimension of power, Mesopotamian women have a pivotal function in the continuity of their household line which may give them (especially those of the dominant family) also some power on the external domain. Also epiclerate and ‘single women’ may be predicted archaeologically: in House E (TA, Nippur) the exclusive presence of female tools for textile production and their association with a cylinder seal point to a female house owner (as confirmed by textual evidence).

However, without the help of ancient textual information we would remain in these cases in the realm of hypotheses. Drawing on Derrida’s construction of meaning as différance and Heidegger’s ‘as-structure’, it is by means of ethnographic analogy that, by comparing different ethnographic morphologies (matrilocal, patrilocal) with the archaeological ones, we can infer which cultural traits of the ethnographic record may apply to the ancient society under investigation, because ethnographies produce also textual information about cultural variables (next chapter). On the cross-cultural level, if we restrain the analysis to Mesopotamian society we obviously have a morphological uniformity which tells us little of the specific spatial correlates of kinship systems and gender roles. Without ethnographic comparanda (or ancient texts), we face more difficulties when we try to interpret the spatial dimension of the cultural deixis behind legal provisions. Moreover, the scarce spatial visibility of kinship and gender roles may be also imputed to dynamics inherent to Mesopotamian culture which have to do with power relations, that is propositional opacity. Abstract social traits relate indirectly to space because patrilineality/patrilocality and related traits (diverging inheritance, monogamy, divorce/remarriage, concubinage, endogamy, prohibited premarital sex, incest taboo) may be strategically negotiated in different ways according to power and prestige structures operating in different contexts which determine a flexible use of space allowing for alternative social patterns. In Mesopotamian archives, discourse referring to patrilinear and patrilocal kinship and gender roles appears to cover a certain ‘terrain’ of the perceived world or space. However, semiotic communities do not instruct Mesopotamians to apply fully shared definitions to the pre-given world, but rather tell them to fantasise such and such scenarios. In kinship system in which patrilocality and patrilineality, and marriage arrangements with dowry and brideprice prevail there will always be a deviation from the norm and a certain residual percentage of matrilocal/matrilineal families which are accommodated in the usual (male) spatial morphologies (e.g. linear House E, TA, Nippur: a daughter is heiress). Although the legal documents are mainly ruling over major models of social structure, we do glean from texts that women, and indeed men, who fell outside the patrilineal household did exist, as well as alternative sexual attitudes. This shows that ‘women’ and ‘men’ are not an overarching category sharing the same rights and roles, but a range of different social identities subject to relatively different lifestyles, prestige, etc. (e.g. the property may be occasionally divided between daughters, the anomalous presence of polyandry, prostitutes, widows, third gender, etc.). The fact that Mesopotamian houses do not show specific morphologies to accommodate such anomalous kinship and gender patterns does not mean that Mesopotamian people do not have such social ‘anomalies’ and this, in turn, must not lead us to assume that the culture does not have these distinctions. It has them verbally or textually, but accommodates them in the prevailing spatial 109

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING morphologies. To say otherwise implies that once we have certain spatial morphologies but not others, the visual messages to our brain allowing possible alternative textual dimensions are censored by a given space configuration. The more likely interpretation is that cultures function quite well in spite of a certain heterogeneity between nonverbal signs and language. Consequently, also both axes of the directionality of language express some indeterminacy and underdetermination with a flexible range of verbal readings (epiclerate, single women, etc.) apt to govern a uniform spatial morphology.

Ultimately, the data from Mesopotamia suggest that, while network chart analysis and environmental psychology studies can be applied to ancient architecture to put forward hypotheses about ancient psychological attitudes, it is the combined use of network charts and specific ethnographic parallels which may produce a deeper understanding of family dynamics and behavioural correlates for material culture. This is the topic of the next chapter.

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Chapter 6

The ethnographic dimension of verbal and nonverbal semiosis

Hermeneutic epistemology stresses that the interpretation of past nonverbal meanings is a contemporary activity in that the spatial meaning of the past does not reside only in it but belongs to our present interpretations. But this free play of meanings, both past and present, is always constraint by the contextual readings in which a sign is used which screens out the polysemy and limits the interpretation (Gadamer 1976). This would justify a critical analysis of ethnographic analogy, namely a critical application of ‘present’ frameworks of meaning to the interpretation of ancient spatial organisations.

tension on the one hand, and some African societies (houses from Ashanti) with a matrilineal system, matrilocal residence, lateral inheritance, relative equality and lack of tension on the other. The historical continuity that exists between ancient Mesopotamian cities and some traditional Islamic ones, specially those where mudbrick architecture is the norm, has induced some archaeologists to propose a structural similarity between the two. I will test this assumption by showing the points of similarity and dissonance between a well documented set of Mesopotamian cities and their Islamic counterparts. This can be regarded as a homogeneous set of information to be contrasted against the opposite model of some African societies. In particular, although the Ashanti house is not typical for all of Africa, this house type has been chosen here for two main reasons. First, this specific society well represents the model of a matrilineal system and a matrilocal residence, and in contrast to the previous model, the aim here is to define spatial correlates of matrilocal systems, and contrast them to the Mesopotamian material in that trying to understand the spatial specifics of each set of cultural traits in each society. Secondly, there exist both thorough sociocultural accounts and decipherable maps of the building type at issue. In this way, by contrasting these opposite systems and their material representations (house plans) with the Mesopotamian spatial data set it may be possible to obtain an impression of ancient family kinship structures and social dialectics with respect to the societies being compared. The following methodology is applied. Nonverbal sign system such as network charts from the archaeological record are compared against their counterparts from the ethnographic ‘present’. If the spatial systems of archaeological houses and specific ethnographic structures constantly share similar social and cultural traits, inferences on social structures, kinship and gender roles may be drawn from ethnographic societies to interpret the archaeological record. In fact, the ethnographic records produce, in addition to published plans which can be transformed into network charts, verbal accounts on the kinship sociology and gender roles of societies whose model may be extended to the archaeological houses. These inferences are then be tested against the documentation on family structure derived from the cuneiform sources. If the methodology turns out to be correct in that similar archaeological and ethnographic morphologies show parallel cultural traits, it will be consequently possible to determine which spatial correlates are diagnostic of specific kinship and gender types and which are not.

Since nonverbal analysis of spatial morphology alone cannot determine general cultural traits such as kinship systems, marriage arrangements and gender roles, in those cases where the ancient textual sources are lacking or fragmentary such traits need be inferred through comparison with ethnographic data. In Mesopotamian archaeology while attempts to bridge the gaps in our knowledge of the past through imposition of social patterns from traditional Islamic urban society can be misleading, internal reconstruction of a society through sources generated by that society may be also limiting especially when the data available are fragmentary. Mesopotamian archaeology offers an unprecedented opportunity in that ethnographic inferences and their potential applications to the archaeological record which are so often employed by prehistorians can be assessed against textual sources originating directly from the ancient society concerned. If the theoretical implications of such comparison are critically highlighted, it may be possible to make a contribution to our knowledge of behavioural correlates for material culture, especially in those domains where the evidence from the cuneiform sources is not exhaustive and the archaeological remains are difficult to interpret. In this situation, I outline a theory of the relationship between verbal and nonverbal meaning in the ethnographic record so as to have a context against which to assess the relevance of its possible use in the interpretation of the past. Also I define spatial correlates of cultural traits which are relevant to the study of spatial morphologies in the archaeological record. ‘Present’ frameworks of meaning: ethnographic parallels The following ethnographic models displaying opposite social systems are fit for comparison for their power of highlighting divergent social patterns: some ancient Eurasian societies (houses from Islam) with a system of patrilineal descent, patrilocal residence, ‘diverging devolution’ of property, sex-inequality and family 111

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING The Muslim and Ashanti houses and their verbal meanings The city and the village courtyard houses from the Islamic world (Eurasia) are compared to the archaeological data. As regards the urban house (where the building encloses a courtyard), selection of ‘oriental’ houses of modern, pre-industrial Iraq constitutes the best example of the so-called ‘direct historic’ approach in which continuity in general social organisation and technology within this specific geographic area may be reasonably assumed (Petherbridge 1978: 194). While reference to the wealthy city house is also made (Khatib-Chahidi 1993: 120–121), this discussion covers mainly the traditional mudbrick (and/or baked brick) courtyard houses of the lower and middle-income groups in the main towns of the flat plains of Iraq (Baghdad), where most of the people live (Al-Azzawi 1969: 91–102). Examination of the many plans yielded by the ethnographic records reveals that the ‘oriental’ house must be taken as typical of different Islamic cities (Petherbridge 1978: 196). In fact, while Islam embraces a host of underlying cultures in its vast spatial and temporal span, commonly held beliefs about the nature of the family and its social role as well as their legal formulations by explicit Koranic laws are the primary determining factors in the formation of a domestic unit. The resemblance with the buildings excavated in the ancient city of Ur and other Mesopotamian sites is more than striking (Woolley and Mallowan 1976: 23–29). As regards the rural house, the Islamic houses also include a group of courtyard dwellings from villages located in the Mesopotamian border areas of Iran (Watson 1979) and in north Syria (Aurenche 1996: 6). The reason for this choice is dictated by the need to contrast both urban and village houses against the archaeological materials, even though one must be aware of the fact that there is not a unique type of modern rural house, but this varies greatly from one region to the others. For such a reason comparison with an Akkadian farmhouse from the Hamrin Basin (Iraq) would support the choice of these specific ethnographic villages, for both house types have very similar layouts (Gnivecki 1987: 176–235). This house type is characterised by an exterior courtyard in which the open space borders on the house and spaces are added in a sequence as the family grows (Kramer 1982: 94). Since there are subtle variations in the spatial principles of village dwellings that may determine a particular form of social structure, this comparison may allow one to understand the extent to which the archaeological houses share some features with these specific types of village architecture.

relatives. Each nuclear family sleeps in a separate room and forms and extended family, even though co-residing nuclear families jointly participate in food preparation and consumption (Al-Azzawi 1969: 91–102). Although partitive inheritance is the rule and it is not possible to identify an entrenched hereditary aristocracy, some sort of primogeniture and other strategies (e.g. preferential share to a favourite son) to perpetuate the wealth of the rich and powerful are also practised. Women consequently move away from their maternal household on marriage and are supposed to have straight loyalty to the household of their husbands. The main inheritance pattern is that of ‘diverging devolution’ of property to both females and males, but while women inherit half a share, men are entitled to a full share of their paternal estate. In such a male kinship system women are subordinate to men and depend on their husbands for protection and economic support. The Koran (4:21) refers to marriage as nikāh, a solemn written contract between husband and wife. In theory, it is supposed to protect the women’s rights, but practically it is the guardian (the paternal relatives ‘asaba, the father or paternal grandfather) that has the power to accept (or reject) the proposal or betrothal (khitba) and can draw up the marriage contract without the consent of the woman (Minces 1982: 60–62; Rif’at Uthman 1995: 1, 5, 35). The most important right of the wife is the receiving of the dowry or bride-price by her husband, namely the money which a woman is owed by a man on account of marriage or sexual intercourse. This is way the virginity of the bride and the prohibition of any physical contact before marriage between unrelated men and women is of concern. This marriage type stems from a pre-Islamic marriage, the ba’al or ‘dominion marriage’ (by ‘capture’ or ‘purchase’) in which the husband has the status of father as well as of his wife’s ba’al, or ‘lord’, ‘owner’. In such a marriage, the wife follows her husband and bears his children, who are of his blood, and she loses her personal freedom, while her husband has authority over her and he alone has the right of divorce. The theory of Muslim law is still that marriage is purchase (a brideprice is paid by the husband), and the party from whom the husband buys is the father (Mernissi 1975: 73–75). Though Islam softened some of the harshest features of the old law (in pre-Islam the brideprice mahr went to the father and kin, and the husband’s marital rights over the wife could be inherited by his heirs; women could not inherit property), yet it has maintained the oppression on the female sex by reinforcing the system of dominion marriage. Islam accelerated the transition from preIslamic matriliny to patriliny by implementing dominion marriage and by condemning all matrilineal unions as zina (‘harlotry’) (Mernissi 1975: 73). Marriage by purchase implies a structure of virilocal polygamy and/or the presence of inferior marriages and concubinage. According to the Koran, which originally put a limit on polygamy, men are allowed to take up to four wives and to possess as many concubines, as ‘your right hand possess’. It also establishes that a man must take only a single wife if he cannot treat several wives equally. This practice, however, tends to decline with the progressive

As to the social structure, the Islamic model represents a patrilocal and patrilineal society, that is a group in which both residence and descent passes through the male line. Not only is the extended family house the most common type of residence but there generally appears a family head (senior member) who divides the house plot into different sections to fulfil particular functions, and confers residential space to new-married sons and other 112

THE ETHNOGRAPHIC DIMENSION OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SEMIOSIS disappearance of female slavery at the beginning of the twentieth century (Mernissi 1975: 48; Minces 1982: 62–64). Also a preferential pattern of in-marriage or endogamy is practiced (with the father’s brother’s daughter) to retain the property within the paternal family (Goody 1976: 119). Moreover, it is clear what disabilities are laid on women by the law of divorce, the talaq or ‘dismissal’ by which the wife claims her brideprice (should her husband refuse, she can take him to court in a civil suit) (Minces 1982: 64–68). Traditionally, divorce was the husband’s exclusive right. He could repudiate his wife whenever he wished, without having to provide any justification, by merely speaking the talaq formula for renunciation (‘I divorce you’) before a witness. The law of triple divorce (repetition of the formula in three successive months) which still survives in Islam shows how the husband purchased the exclusive right to use the woman as a wife and she is not free until she returns the bride-price (mahr). As long as the ‘waiting period’ continues, her husband is obliged to provide maintenance, since the divorce is still theoretically revocable (Mince 1982: 67). Women who want to divorce, on the other hand, are required to prove the validity of their request before a civil court of justice Qadi (e.g. cruelty, lack of maintenance, or insanity) and they will generally have to renounce any part of the bride-price which is still unpaid at the time. Women can remarry, but Muslim law establishes a strict control over paternity in the form of idda period, or waiting period, which compels a divorced woman (or a widow) to wait for some menstrual cycles before a new marriage. The idda can be regarded as the best proof of the Islamic restriction of female sexual rights, since no equivalent period was instituted for men (Mernissi 1975: 62–64). However, divorce according to Koranic Law, should not involve any serious economic consequences, since the divorced woman’s family is obliged by certain moral and material obligations towards her. Everything is organised so as to ease the divorced woman’s fast remarriage. Also the fact that a woman has the right to keep her dowry if she is divorced by her husband works as a disincentive to the husband to end the marriage without serious reason (Minces 1982: 62).

circumcision of women, since excision is supposed to calm girls’ sexual desires (Minces 1982: 51–54). The practice of seclusion is very frequently represented not as a marker of woman’s inferiority to man, but as the man’s need for control over female sexuality, women being traditionally viewed as a sexual temptation from which men must be protected (Mernissi 1975: 4; KhatibChahidi 1993: 112–134). The Hanafi school of law states that ‘after payment of the prompt portion of the dowry, the husband has the right to forbid his wife to leave the house without permission, while respecting her right to visit her father and mother, and relations within the prohibited degrees at fixed periods’ (Petherbridge 1978: 197). This shows how the laws limited women freedom of movement and social interaction and thus have a strong spatial character. Thus, the cultural tradition of Islamic seclusion, purdah, creates an opposition between women, family, trusted associates on the one hand, and outsiders on the other. Cutting through this, the difference between the village house and the city house is based on a general variation of the kind of production (i.e. labour organisation, etc.) and challenge to male honour, with a greater stress on partitive inheritance and egalitarian ideology and a consequential lessening of the seclusion placed upon village women. As is shown by Small, ‘unlike large settlements, small communities in which there is less of a threat to male honour would often decrease the prohibition to women from interacting with men of the same village, for a kind of trust develops between different families in the course of time, no matter whether they are related by kinship or not’ (1991: 336–342). The desire to separate women from contact with unrelated males is also transformed into a need for privacy for the household as a whole. Support for this assumption comes from Muslim laws which emphasise the importance of privacy from neighbouring houses. A whole complex of laws govern the arrangements that must be made to avoid neighbour overlooking each other, thus enduring visual privacy (Petherbridge 1978: 197) Thus, in Muslim traditional society the woman is very much separated from public life and closeted within the family which she must care for in return for the protection of her husband or other menfolk. This is also shown by the division of labour in traditional Islamic law which is based on the physical and social separation between the umma, the public sphere and a primarily manly universe, and the domestic universe, the domain of women (Doi 1989: 146–150; Minces 1982: 71). While men’s main tasks in either urban and rural areas are more oriented towards the outside world, the most important female activities are domestic tasks (Ziadeh 1970: 129–149), and some minor agricultural work such as planting vegetables (Doi: 1989: 150). While market trading by a woman is not forbidden in the Shari’ah, this must strictly follow the code of Islamic conduct. A woman’s trade and business must not take her to the marketplace or other public places where she will have to intermingle with her male counterparts. But women are allowed to engage in trading in their own house where the clients are girls and/or little boys from the neighbourhood (Doi 1989: 148).

In the Islamic male kinship, the idea of female segregation is to keep the sexually mature woman away from possible contact with sexually mature, non-related men, in order to secure the family line of descent, the woman’s chastity being a prerequisite for the establishment of the child’s legitimacy. The expectation that women will not cooperate to determine paternity explains the coercion through seclusion. Veiling and confining women to the home, or in wealthier families in specific sectors called harem, serve in practice to ensure that as far as possible the only permitted social interactions are those between men and women who are not allowed to marry (mahram relations by blood – incest taboo – milk, and marriage) (Khatib-Chahidi 1993: 114). This stress on the control of women sexuality and a major symbol of female oppression is the practice of 113

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING As regards the celebration of death and religion, burial customs are conditioned by beliefs concerning salvation and resurrection and the majority of ordinary Muslims are buried in simple anonymous graves marked by a stone pillar. Bodies are placed in a recumbent position at right angles to the qibla wall (the Mosque wall closest to Mecca), so that if turned on their right side they would face Mecca (Petherbridge 1978: 207–8). Although it is customary to attend the congregational mosque on Friday for communal prayers, religious observance during the week can take place at home. The mihrāb cult niche (defining the direction of Mecca, the axis of prayer) might occasionally be constructed within the house, or an apartment set aside as a private chapel (i.e. the mescits of Kayseri in central Turkey). The mihrāb or the chapel is generally located in the suite inhabited by the master, or when like in Kayseri the house is divided in genderrelated area, in the male sector (Petherbridge 1978: 208). Thus, while cult may be practiced within the house and is located in the master’s residential space, this is not focused on the family’s ancestors but on the god.

offspring belong to the woman’s tribe and kin as descent is through the female line and residence is uxorilocal. In this type of marriage since children belonged to the mother’s group, physical paternity was thus unimportant: the genitor does not have rights over his offspring. This also implies more sexual freedom for women, symbolised by their sovereignty over the marital household, namely the house in which they receive their husbands (see strong mutual help and support between mothers, daughters and sisters resident in spatial proximity). The spatial correlates of such diverging social models are clearly expressed by their network maps. In the middleclass urban house (Fig. 6.1), the need to entertain male guests, and at the same time bar them access to the females of the household, gives rise in the city house from Islam to the introduction of a special men's reception room (2: skifa) which tends to be located adjacent to and directly accessible from the entrance lobby (1: driba) so that certain visitors (not trusted associates or relatives) do not have any chance to meet or converse with women working in domestic areas. This protective entrance is sometimes extremely exaggerated by means of multiple entrance passages which are often richly decorated and have benches along the walls (i.e. house in Isfahan, Petherbride 1978: 196–197). In terms of social psychology, Merhabian ‘non-reciprocity’ principle applies here: men control the entrance suite sector and stress the interactive/affiliative dimension towards the outside (the umma, or ‘public’), while women emphasise the ‘approach-avoidance’ component as they are secluded in the interior space. Only in a few instances rooms are mentioned as being for specific use by women (harem), and they are most frequently segregated upstairs (see higher accessibility values). The

By contrast, the Ashanti display a matrilineal and matrilocal system of residence whereby both husbands and wives do not cohabit, but remain within the household of their matrilineal group, with the former visiting the latter and wives sending food across to husbands. Women are in this case not secluded at all, but conversely have far more chances of interacting with the outside world. The difference with the former system is thus straightforward: while the former expresses a system oriented towards the control of society through the boundary, the latter generates a more free orientation to the exterior relations of the boundary mediated by women. The matrilineal kinship is a union whose

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Figure 6.1. Traditional town house from Baghdad (After Al-Azzawi 1969).

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Figure 6.2 Traditional city house of wealthy Iranian family (After Khatib-Chahidi 1993, Fig. 6.1).

main residential room 5 of the master of the household controls a larger territory and dominates visually, thus stressing the interactive/affiliative dimension (see lower accessibility value), while the secondary living room (4, 6) have less spatial control of the network. The inequality mapped by this house type is twofold, namely that between men and women on the one hand, and between family branches on the other. Moreover, in wealthy households (e.g. affluent landowners, high-ranking government officials or successful merchants) there is a greater attention paid to female seclusion (Fig. 6.2), which is shown in their house morphology by the stronger separation of male and female quarters. The residence comprises virtually two courtyard houses in one, the inner courtyard 9 being reserved for the female quarters (harem or anderun) with separate residential suites (and cooking facilities, latrines, storage space, etc.) for each wife, and the outer courtyard 1 and the loci 2 and 3 opening onto it for the men’s reception of guests and business activities (birun). It is in this type of household that polygyny might have been practiced, although its occurrence in Islam appears to have been moderate (Khatib Chahidi 1993: 120; Petherbridge 1978: 198). Therefore, while the wealthy house is more segmented in that specific areas for the women and men exist, in the commonest house type of the middle-class the characteristic feature of the separation of male and female is not the provision of female quarters where the woman is shut away, but the creation of a male interface suite on the outer side of the house.

the structure of women, family, trusted associates versus outsiders, that is upon women seclusion and male honour versus dishonour, and upon relationships of domination between senior (and/or more powerful) family and junior branches. For the Ashanti house (Fig. 6.4), the spatial correlates of a typical matrilocal society show that, while the female residential quarters (32, 58) are located in the shallowest spaces in the complex with respect to the outside and are thus strongly oriented towards the external relations, the chief male residential areas (27, 33, 34, 51) are far more integrated with the inside (see several internal rings) than with the outer world. In social terms the men and the women point in different directions: the women towards the affiliative/interactive relations with the outside world, and the men in the direction of affliative/interactive relations within the inside, thereby highlighting differences based on strength on different dimensions implying some kind of relative equality. Overall, it is possible to establish that the spatial organisation and circulation patterns of Mesopotamian houses differ quite markedly from that of the matrilocal societies. In Mesopotamia there is no overt stress on the separation of the female quarters from the rest of the house and on their orientation towards the outside and there appears a general lack of gender-specific loci, while more emphasis is placed on the introverted character of the house that probably means a need of privacy for the household as a whole. By contrast, one may note that an over-arching structure is common to both the nonverbal systems expressed by Mesopotamian houses and the Islamic houses. Most of the Mesopotamian houses – like the Islamic ones – have in fact an introverted form, conceived with an inward-looking plan, with overt emphasis on the decoration of the interior elements, such

By contrast, in the extended family village house from Islam (Fig. 6.3), the Mehrabian reciprocity principle applies: the similar degree of integration of the three residential loci and the lack of the male entrance suite suggest that the resident families (both female and male members) stress the interactive/affiliative dimension and no one dominates the others. Less stress is thus put upon 115

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING

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High Accessibility R1 Courtyard (Hasanabad) R1 Courtyard (Abu Hijara) Middle Accessibility Hasanabad R2 Living room R3 Living room R6 Living room R4 Storeroom/Stable R5 Storeroom R7 Storeroom Abu Hijara R2, 3, 8, 13 Storerooms R6, 7, 14-16 Utility rooms R10 Storeroom/Stable R11 Utility room R17-18 Storerooms/Stables R4 Living room R5 Living room R9 Living room R12 Living room

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Figure 6.3 Traditional village houses from Hasanabad (Iran) and Abu Hijara (Syria) (After Watson 1979; Aurenche 1996:13).

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Figure 6.4 African Ashanti residence (After Hillier and Hanson 1984).

as the court façade, whereas the external façade is usually a blank wall, the only opening being an entrance way. Hence in either buildings walls ought to be built to a height that ensures the privacy of the domestic interior so that intruders are discouraged. But apart from such a general feature, which is also operationalised to a different extent in many ancient communities (i.e. Hellenistic houses in Palestine, Israeli Jewish society, Hindu India, Small 1991: 338; Classic Greek house: Nevett 1994: 98–112), one must focus on the way in which this overall structure operates in the Mesopotamian community, and seek to isolate culture specific spatial principles.

and conversely stress on generational conflicts). This is to say that while women from the junior families are excluded from the external transactions, those belonging to the senior and more powerful sector may carry out business activities (see textual and archaeological evidence on businesswomen). Moreover, the model of social equality of a few Mesopotamian houses (Model 3) resembles one specific village structure of modern Middle East, namely that of the extended family rural house from Hasanabad (Iran) and Abu Hijara (Syria) (Fig. 2.7 and Fig. 6.3, respectively): both are mainly entrance court houses, where the courtyard borders on the building, thus providing a protected area contiguous with the dwelling units but not enclosed by them as in the case of the central courtyard house. The former type tends to be associated with rural areas where there is less pressure on building space and less need for the protective introversion the interior court house provides (Kramer 1982: 94). However, the smaller mean size of the archaeological houses with respect to the ethnographic ones (120 sq. m versus 170 sq. m, respectively) suggests a relatively more urbanised context for their construction.

If the Mesopotamian data are compared with the city and village houses of Islam the following similarities and diverging patterns come to the fore. There appear some similarities between the Mesopotamian Model 4 of social inequality and the middle-class city houses from Islam (Fig. 2.8, and Fig. 6.1, respectively). Both house types show an overt stress on the dominant position of the master living room with respect to the secondary living rooms where junior members (i.e. married sons) of the household reside. However, while the specialised entrance area of the Islamic house represents the spatial correlate (men's reception room) of the Islamic law of purdah, in the Mesopotamian house it is the place where both men and women of the dominant family carry out their business activities with formal clients (see archaeological and textual lack of gender-specific loci

In sum, the general similarity between the morphologies of the Mesopotamian houses and the Islamic houses with their inward-looking structure and the widespread presence of the system of social inequality and relations of domination suggest that the general social framework in 117

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING which the Mesopotamian household must be set up is that of the Eurasian societies as opposed to the African ones. The socio-cultural implications of such morphological similarity are multifaceted. More precisely, as convincingly demonstrated by J. Goody by means of statistical analyses of correlation (path matrix, Kendhal coefficient), there is a tight relationship between a certain type of economy/polity, inheritance, type of marriage, residence, and kinship terminology (1976). That is to say that in Eurasian societies intensive agriculture (plough agriculture), stratification (large state), vertical inheritance, ‘diverging devolution’ of property, extended family residences with relations of domination characterised by both the control of property and the ancestor's cult, endogamy (in-marriage: Father's Brother’s Daughter marriage), monogamy or concubinage, and prohibited premarital sex and limited polygamy are positively correlated to one another (1976). The main feature of Eurasian societies is a general stress on property transmission, as one of the major aims of vertical succession and ‘diverging inheritance’ (bilateral inheritance where property goes to children of both sexes) is to preserve the status of offspring in a society with different strata based upon individual property-holdings. Goody notices a major difference with the African societies such as the matrilineal Ashanti in that in Africa a system of lateral inheritance prevails, and ‘diverging inheritance’ is virtually unknown. Its absence is connected to the absence of dowry in Africa, and in fact in systems of lateral inheritance a man's property is transmitted only to members of his own clan who belong to the same sex in order to retain the property within its unilineal descent group and avoid its diffusion (as dowry) outside the lineage. This feature, in turn, has implications for the sexual division of labour and gender roles in both societies. In fact, in the African regions shifting cultivation (hoe agriculture) predominates and the bulk of the agricultural work is done by women; bridewealth is paid by their future husband in order to assure hand workers for his lineage and women have only limited support from their husband but they enjoy considerable freedom of movement and some economic independence from their work. In such communities women are valued as workers and as childbearers and thus there is a high incidence of polygyny (Goody 1976: 50). By contrast, where plough cultivation and advanced agriculture is present and where consequently women do little agricultural work, they are valued as mothers only and a status of a barren woman is particularly critical; in these Eurasian societies women are more dependent upon their husband economic support and have less freedom (Boserup 1970: 50). Although also the Islamic areas allow plural marriages, there is still a remarkable difference with Africa where polygyny rates average 35% of all marriages, while is well below 4% in most of the Arab world (Goody 1976: 42). Serial marriages and concubinage are thus found in those Eurasian societies (Mesopotamian, Egyptian, Indian, and Chinese) where some kind of dowry prevails, societies that are also mainly monogamous or in which plural marriages represent a small proportion of the total because of their economic burden. Since Mesopotamian houses and Islamic ones have a similar spatial morphology, one should infer that they

share the kinship traits and strategies of property devolution evidenced by Goody. These conclusions need be assessed against the ancient Mesopotamian textual sources. Verbal and nonverbal sign interaction in ethnography and its bearing on archaeological interpretation The Mesopotamian legal texts (Hammurapi Law Code and private archives) and their counterparts represented by Koranic sūras from Islam share the following social traits: 1.

2. 3. 4.

5.

6.

the introverted character and the privacy of the house as a whole, namely the judicial right of the individual family and the inviolability of the domestic unit (building regulations in Islam and house omens in Mesopotamia stressing the placement of doorways so that they are not opposite to each other, the lack of external decoration and emphasis on internal one, etc.), patrilineal kinship and patrilocal residence (CH §165, §166, §167, §§170–71; and Koranic laws); ‘diverging devolution’ of property in which both men and women inherit property; the existence of domestic tension and the ideology of inequality with concern on strategies of property transmission to preserve the property and continue the family line (i.e. partitive inheritance with the uneven share to the eldest and/or more capable son, CH §165 and Koranic Law), the existence of those Islamic (and Eurasian) strategies of property transmission aiming at resolving the issue of the potential failure of vertical inheritance (when a wife fails to produce offspring or a son) such as the practice of adoption or divorce/remarriage or inferior marriages/concubinage, prohibited premarital sex (Mesopotamian husband has ‘loosed the dress-pin of her virginity’; Koranic law shows prohibition of physical contact, and also female circumcision) and incest taboo (CH §§155–6; Koranic sūras prohibit a sexual relationship among persons related by blood, milk, and marriage); endogamy (or in-marriage with the father’s brother’s daughter).

The cuneiform sources shows also some culture-specific features which are specific to Mesopotamia: 1. While both in Mesopotamia and in Islam marriage takes the form of a contract (riksātum and nikāh respectively) between the two families (usually represented by the fathers), the Mesopotamian marriage is not ‘purchase’ marriage (like the Islamic marriage of dominion) since the bride money is often returned at the conclusion of the wedding process (the bride-price, terhatum, is a cautionary payment or earnest of good faith), 2. women had a relatively higher social standing in Mesopotamian society, for they inherited a share of their father’s estate (CH §§163–4: either as šeriktum, 118

THE ETHNOGRAPHIC DIMENSION OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SEMIOSIS dowry, or a normal share if unmarried; CH §§171–72, §177 state that widows have an interest for their life, or a share, in their husband’s estate), while Islamic women inherit only half a share; while the Laws of divorce both in Mesopotamia and Islam protect women from capricious divorce, this is more so in Mesopotamia: according to both laws women can remarry and the husbands renounce all rights over their wives’ property (šeriktum, ‘dowry’, CH §§138–40; and mahr, ‘bride-price’) but while Mesopotamian men must provide their divorced wives with a ‘settlement’ nudunnûm and a maintenance (CH §§138–40), Koranic law states that the husband must provide maintenance only during the ‘waiting period’ since the divorce is still theoretically revocable and the divorced woman cannot appeal to a court to obtain material help from her ex-husband; unlike the Koranic laws, married women in Mesopotamia are not prohibited to go out in the street unveiled (CH §131), and there is no legal evidence of their being secluded from the outer world after payment of the bride-price by the husband; despite the bride’s virginity is an asset to both patriarchal societies, the ‘honour and shame’ complex of the Mediterranean areas, whereby the prestige of men is thought to depend on the chastity of the family’s women (Cooper 2002: 99–105), is less pronounced in Mesopotamia than in Islam (women seclusion is also practiced in Israeli Jewish society, ancient Greece, Hellenistic Palestine, and modern Hindu India); while Mesopotamian women were not confined to harems and at least that of the merchant class were in business for themselves and could interact with nonrelated men (e.g. archives from the Old Assyrian colonies in Anatolia, from AH, Ur), for Islamic women trading is only possible in their own house where the buyers are small boys and girls (Doi 1989: 148); the Mesopotamian emphasis on the sexual display of the female body as a symbol of erotic power has no parallel in traditional Islam (see the opposite practice of veiling, clitoral excision, etc.); while in Mesopotamia polygamy is exceptional (restricted by CH §148 to the case in which the first wife is incapacitated through illness), in Islam is widespread, though the Koran limits it to four wives; in Mesopotamia there are women who are outside the patrilineal household: the nadītu priestesses, the epiclerate (the inheriting daughter in default of sons), and the single women carry out business transactions, own various kinds of property, including land and slaves, and have free disposition of this property (CH §40); in Islam the domestic cult is not emphasised and is exclusively focused on the cult of God, while in Mesopotamia it mainly concerns the ancestral cult.

privacy mechanisms for the whole house, patrilineal and patrilocal kinship (extended families and nuclear families), ‘diverging devolution’ of property, partitive inheritance with primogeniture and meritocracy, endogamy, adoption, divorce/remarriage, inferior marriages/concubinage, prohibited premarital sex and incest taboo, cultural traits which have generally to do with gender roles and cult diverge markedly from the Islamic (and other Eurasian) ones. The main divergences are the marriage type and religious practices: the lack of marriage by dominion in Mesopotamia and the ensuing integrated position of women in society, as well as the stronger emphasis on Mesopotamian ancestral cult. In fact, from ancient legal evidence it is clear that Mesopotamia lacks the impediment of kinship to marriage which in Islam generates the rules of restrictions of marriage partner and the physical and social interaction between the sexes, thus determining female seclusion within the house. By contrast, the ancient texts show that Mesopotamian women can do business and interact with unrelated males, while female sexuality emerges more as erotic and reproductive power. Thus, it is possible to argue that Goody’s model of female inferiority and seclusion in Eurasian patriarchal societies such as Islam does not apply to Mesopotamia, as shown also by the different type of marriage, inheritance share, divorce disincentives and absence of polygamy in Mesopotamia. This suggests that patriarchal societies do not necessarily share the same marriage types and gender roles, but these can be negotiated differently.

While the Mesopotamian legal evidence confirms the inferences drawn by means of ethnographic analogy with Islamic society as regards the presence of strong

Owing to the technical and spatial character of both Islamic building regulations and Mesopotamian house omens, there is thus a strong degree of corroboration

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

But how do this subtle variability in gender roles and related traits influence the spatial morphology of the domestic environment in both Mesopotamian and Islamic societies? The answer to this question would provide a better insight on the potentials of morphological analysis and their possible applications in those cases where ethnographic evidence is available but ancient textual sources are lacking. Some of the traits shared by Islamic and Mesopotamian societies (privacy and house inviolability, male kinship and patrilocal residence, family structures, partitive inheritance with unequal devolution of property) and those which are culturespecific (type of marriage with lack of purdah and higher social standing of Mesopotamian women, lack of polygamy, main ancestral cult) take specific morphological configurations that can be shown directly by comparison between the morphology of archaeological and ethnographic houses. Moreover, one can infer from such ‘territorial’ traits also the more abstract ones (women inheritance patterns, laws of divorce and remarriage, prohibited premarital sex, incest taboos, endogamy, divorce/remarriage, concubinage, adoption) which are dependent on the former and are thus less tightly related to space morphology.

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THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING between their respective verbal and nonverbal sign systems. In both cases, by using architectural aspects of the house to signify social meanings, the omen texts and Islamic regulations on privacy employ the image of the house to corroborate and substantiate social structure at points where it may be more vulnerable. The same corroboration applies to the pattern of residence and kinship system. The investigation shows that patrilocal and patrilineal systems of vertical inheritance can be retrieved archaeologically for their circulation patterns and accessibility measures take specific diagram configurations which remain constant through time from the ancient past (Mesopotamia) up to the ethnographic present (Islam). This is evident by comparing the different morphological configurations of Mesopotamian and Islamic houses with their African Ashanti counterparts. While in this matrilocal society women mobility towards the outside space and male internal control allow for the presence of gender-specific spaces with a stronger external interaction for women, in both Islam and Mesopotamia there is no emphasis of women connection with outer world. The Ashanti parallel thus demonstrates that the spatial correlates of matrilocal societies versus patrilocal ones are embodied in different configurations and accessibility patterns of the built environment that can be traced archaeologically. As for the family structure, both Islamic and Mesopotamian texts show how the presence of extended families and nuclear families take the typical morphology of multiple residential loci with each living room allocated to one single family unit, thus matching the archaeological model for identification of residential spaces. As regards inheritance law, the Mesopotamian legal texts and their Islamic (and Eurasian) counterparts stressing partitive inheritance with primogeniture and meritocracy are spatialised by a parallel asymmetric integration between the main living room suite and the secondary ones, thereby showing intersemiotic rapport between legal texts and their referential nonverbal meanings.

archaeological features. Their specifics can in fact be understood only if morphological aspects are considered in association with archaeological patterns of feature/find distribution (gender-related areas) in specific contexts. Although spaces such as entrance suites are equally segregated from the house network, they express different sociological meanings in the Islamic houses with respect to Ur houses: men’s reception rooms embody the Islamic law of purdah, while in Mesopotamia these are loci for business activities for the family as a whole (see lack of gender-specific sectors); double courtyard houses may be built to include the harem with the exact duplication of independent residential suites for the polygamous family (wealthy house in Islam) or be the exact duplication of the nuclear family house (Mesopotamia). In Mesopotamia, the lack of laws regulating impediment of kinship to marriage and female seclusion, as well as the textual evidence that women could carry out business and interact with unrelated males take culture-specific spatial morphologies and archaeological patterns: the entrance suite is generally limited to one single interface space and quite often the access to the house is directly from the courtyard (also a ‘female’ space). This different spatial organisation would match the lack of evidence for ‘purchase’ marriage and the virtual absence of polygamy (restricted by CH §148) in Mesopotamian textual sources. In Mesopotamia, like in Islam, both virilocal polygamy and ‘purchase’ marriage would be likely to ‘show’ in space by the presence of more structured layouts with gender-specific spaces and single residential spaces for each wife hinting at female seclusion. The absence of seclusion and polygamy is also supported by the lack of evidence in Mesopotamia of gender-related areas, while diagnostic items of female manufacturing work show a wide distribution in different loci of the house: for instance, the evidence of the business activities of Gimil-Nin-giz-zida, a female owner of a cylinder seal, in the entrance courtyard of No. 1B Baker’s Square (AH, Ur) would be unthinkable in an Islamic house in which women cannot interact with unrelated males. Although it could be argued that there are cases which resemble the Islamic spatial configuration with a structured series of entrance lobbies (e.g. No. 1 Old Street/3 Straight Street, AH, Ur), these are indeed extremely rare and have a different meaning from Islam: analysis of textual and architectural data shows that they correlate with international business. It is thus not male honour achieved through the control on women which is at stake in Mesopotamia, but the sacred inviolability of the house as a whole in those wealthy families which accumulate luxury goods for their home-based and/or international trade. Emphasis is not put upon the distinction between men and women as such, but between the men and women of the main family on the one hand and the men and women of the secondary branches on the other (see leading business role of Ea-nāΒir's daughter in the most powerful sector of the house, No 1 Old Street, AH, Ur). Moreover, the consistent presence in Mesopotamia of terracotta plaques stressing female sexual allure would be impossible in traditional Islamic society. Finally, it

Moreover, the lack of female seclusion and purchase marriage, as well as different religious practices, can be also traced by means of the interwoven examination of morphological and archaeological features. As to religion, the Islamic emphasis on the domestic cult of God versus the Mesopotamian ancestral cult correlate with the different traits of their material culture: in Islam burials are located in cemeteries outside the house boundary, while in Mesopotamia the more intimate character of the ancestral cult linking the living with their dead forebears is spatialised by the location of the family vaulted tomb underneath the domestic chapel. This suggests, in turn, that in both Islamic and Mesopotamian societies, the chapel suite or the cult niche is inherited by the master of the house and he is thus the main person in charge of the cultic practices, be that devoted to the ancestors or to God. Likewise, the different social positions of women (lack of marriage by dominion entailing purdah, polygamy and a higher social standing of Mesopotamian women) in both societies take also distinct morphological and 120

THE ETHNOGRAPHIC DIMENSION OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL SEMIOSIS appears that while in Mesopotamia both textual and morphological evidence reinforce one another in the definition of different degree of interface spaces to protect the house (men and women) as a whole, in Islamic society a contrast between family and outsiders is combined with a gender distinction and causes a stronger and more widespread asymmetry in the morphological configuration with an exaggerated expansion of the entrance suite sector. This illustrates that the meaning and use of space cannot be prescribed merely by deterministic associations between human activities and house planning. Yet, this is what was intended by the introduction of regulatory factors such as Islamic purdah, and the redefinition of the architecture of the internal spaces by judicial (textual) barriers that have changed tacit rules. It is not just sets of human activities and implicit codes that change but also sets of (written) regulatory factors which determine and are determined by the use of space and both must be evaluated if we are to comprehend the meanings given to domestic architecture by different societies (Lawrence 1990: 89–91). This shows the territorial character of Muslim sexuality: its regulatory mechanisms consist mainly of a strict allocation of space to each sex and a complex set of rituals for resolving the contradictions generated by the inevitable intersection of spaces. The formalised boundaries dividing the different sectors of society denote the recognition of power in one sector at the expense of the other. Islamic social structure overtly emphasizes the connections among the concept of spatial boundaries, the ideas of danger and power (Mernissi 1975: 137–47). The structure of women, family, trusted associates versus unrelated outsiders (non relative male) is rigidly embedded in the threshold spatial combination of skifa and driba (the male reception suite) or in its extremely exaggerated version with a series of ‘infinite’ lobbies and multiple turning or finally in the harem with the double courtyard of the polygamous wealthier households which strongly separate the female quarters from the external world. While strict space boundaries divide Muslim society into two sub-universes, the umma (the world of religion and power) and the domestic universe of women, in Mesopotamia the boundary between inside and outside has a less symbolic meaning. The difference between boundaries is not only quantitative but qualitative. In Islam, a woman is thus always intruding into a male-dominated space because she is normally perceived as an antagonist, and thus the interface space is charged with a symbolic rather than a merely physical meaning. The concept of invading a territory has not to do simply with the physical boundaries themselves, but specifically with the identity of the person executing the act (Mernissi 1975: 137). The different symbolic emphasis placed by these societies on the interface space between the inside and the outer world shows that morphological analyses seem valid as guidelines for understanding general behavioural responses, but they require further refinement and integration with more comprehensive behavioural theories about different kinds of barriers and boundaries and archaeologically identified activity-areas.

Finally, once these social traits are identified by means of the interrelated use of morphological and ethnographic analysis, inferences can be drawn (without the help of ancient textual evidence) about those more abstract cultural traits which show a less direct spatial visibility (women inheritance patterns, laws of divorce, prohibited premarital sex, incest taboos, endogamy, remarriage, concubinage, adoption). These abstract and global traits must be dismantled into the relatively more concrete and potentially observable spatial expressions such those outlined above (the presence or lack of female seclusion within the house, female activities etc.). The lack of female seclusion in Mesopotamia allows a series of inferences on related abstract traits: it is possible to infer that, since ‘purchase’ marriage is not the prevailing pattern, consequently Mesopotamian women may own more property and inherit more than Islamic ones, and that the law of divorce, prohibited premarital sex and incest taboos, as well as sexual ideology in general (tolerance of single women, prostitutes, witches, castrates, eunuchs, transsexuals, etc.) are relatively more restrictive in Islam than Mesopotamia. That this is a right train of inferences would be confirmed by ancient Mesopotamian textual sources (see above). Moreover, the presence in Mesopotamia of a male kinship system may allow inferences about the possible presence of endogamy (father’s brother’s son) whereby the property is not diffused outside the patrilineal group, while the virtual absence of polygamy would suggest the presence of alternative strategies of property transmission meant to avoid property fragmentation (i.e. divorce, remarriage and concubinage, adoption, epiclerate). This analysis provides us with useful insights into the relationship between verbal and nonverbal sign systems both in ethnography and archaeology. The results of the combined analysis of archaeological and ethnographic evidence and their assessment against ancient textual sources caution us about the uncritical use of ethnographic analogy. The dynamics of the application of correct ethnographic inferences to the archaeological record supports the model put forward by sufficient semiosis whereby the degree of adherence between verbal and nonverbal sign systems is stronger for primary territorial traits than for secondary abstracts traits in which the elaborative power of textual structures is more marked. This means that, while less abstract cultural traits can be detected by the combined analysis of archaeological and ethnographic evidence in that they have a visible spatial dimension, abstract cultural ones can be only inferred through the former and thus may be ultimately impossible to ascertain without the help of the ancient textual sources. Intersemiotic translation shows little propositional, modal and semiotic opacity and an intersemiotic rapport between verbal and nonverbal sign systems dealing with territorial cultural traits. This means that within the internal level of Mesopotamian and Islamic culture, little propositional opacity between these technical family laws and their nonverbal referents is present, owing to the homologous cultural ways in which communities from different Mesopotamian and Muslim 121

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING cultures employ the verbal messages (building regulations, male kinship, inheritance law, and purdah, etc.) to regulate the nonverbal (actual spatial embodiments of such regulations). Consequently, also both axes of the directionality of language express determinacy with a relatively restricted range of verbal readings (a determined spatial law of inheritance, etc.) apt to govern spatial morphology. This mean that in technical discourse, or laws showing a spatial dimension, there is a limited spectrum of variation of the nonverbal material regulated by textual laws and the variety of nonverbal readings are thus curtailed to those that are immediately relevant. Also modal and semiotic opacity are limited for, though we have different privacy mechanisms, male kinship, inheritance laws, etc., we have here a clear understanding of the contextual associations between such territorial laws and their nonverbal realisations.

is also present. In fact, such abstract social traits can be less rigidly defined because they are liable to daily negotiation among the actors concerned. What it counts is that the main structuring social variables which are more visible in space be more rigidly fixed in social practice, while the ways women’s inheritance patterns, laws of divorce, prohibited premarital sex, incest taboos, endogamy, remarriage, concubinage, adoption, are put into practice in actual space use may be more flexible and vary according to strategies pursued by the individual families in different contexts of power and prestige. This accounts for propositional opacity within Mesopotamian and Islamic culture. Although Mesopotamian and Islamic people realise that their linguistic constructions of broad cultural features are directional, such construals are not as thoroughly controlled as it would seem, but allow for strategic negotiation in various contexts of power and action.

By contrast, the relationship of secondary abstract traits with space is mediated by the primary ‘spatial’ variables, thus showing an heterosemiotic rapport with propositional, modal and semiotic opacity. All such abstract traits have a broader semantic field, and symbolic textual elaborations, which can be accommodated only indirectly through spatial morphology. On the cross-cultural level, we face difficulties when we try to interpret and so (re)construct their cultural deixis, thus having modal and semiotic opacity. We are unable to determine fully the cultural and social background of female inheritance, endogamy, laws of divorce, sexual ideologies, etc. and their full range of actual meanings, and we are not certain of the contextual associations between such textual traits and their nonverbal realisations as shown by chart morphology. As a consequence of the relatively more social/symbolic dimension of this genre of discourse dealing with power negotiation and sexual attitudes, propositional opacity between such traits and their nonverbal spatial referents

Ultimately, while ethnographic inferences on textual variables carrying some spatial dimensions (male kinship and patrilocal residence, house inviolability, family structures, partitive inheritance with unequal devolution of property, lack of female seclusion and polygamy, different domestic cults) can be detected directly by means of a cross-examination of different morphological features both in archaeology and ethnography, women inheritance patterns, laws of divorce and remarriage, inferior marriages/concubinage, prohibited premarital sex, incest taboos, and sexual ideologies can be nonetheless at least inferred through the former less abstract traits. This confirms the explanatory potentials of the as-structure of meaning in that the combined use of network charts and specific ethnographic parallels can produce a deeper understanding of family dynamics and cultural correlates for material remains which could not be predicted on the sole archaeological grounds without the ancient textual sources.

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Chapter 7

The body in language: towards a theory of the relation between verbal and nonverbal meaning in archaeology In this book I have tried to show the importance of nonverbal semiosis both in the construction of our world – and by implication that of past people – and in the construction of linguistic meaning. The presence of nonverbal interpretations in both language and social life enables us to comprehend our surrounding reality without language, as well as to make sense of the world through language. While a substantial bibliography stressing the role of the body is available in anthropology or archaeology, I have gone a step further, since it seems to me that none of these disciplines have tried (and/or have had the courage) to establish the body at the very heart of linguistic meaning. This issue is particularly relevant to archaeology which tries to look beyond the material data in order to explain them. In the corporeal theory of meaning advocated here such an exercise is not barred to the archaeologist, because this implies that we can infer from the archaeological data their symbolic meanings. Mesopotamian archaeology may offer an unprecedented opportunity to those working in non-textual scenarios in that it investigates the dynamics of interaction of verbal and nonverbal sings. In order to argue the foundational role of the body in ancient Mesopotamian family archives, I have surveyed semantic theories which may be of use to the present approach and will summarise them here, and from that will go on to draw out the implications of corporeal meanings as have emerged from the archaeological data. A further potential of the argument is finally to show how it is possible to claim the central position of the body in the modern era of the digital and globalised world, and how archaeology’s emphasis on nonverbal semiosis can enhance human selfreflexivity and inter-cultural communication, amid a climate of political struggle.

semantics (Baudrillard), meaning is ‘dead’ in that any set of signifiers can generate a ‘viable culture’ (2000: 170). The destructive consequences of this linguistic emphasis for the study of meaning are shown to emerge to different extents in processual, and postprocessual archaeologies. While they have the merit of considering the world not as a rough ‘stuff’ but at the level of signs, the metaphysical assumption at work here is still that language is in charge since nonverbal signs are viewed as coded in a more or less rigid language-like manner. In the light of this, I have shown that, biased as it is by a definitional approach and ethnocentric inferences from Islam, Mesopotamian archaeology emphasises the power of the object world in the form of a static tripartite division among temple, palace and private sectors, while the strong mutual involvement between people and world on different scales is overlooked. In order to redress the balance, I have illustrated the grounds on which corporeal semantics lies and then have charted my way towards a body-oriented theory of meaning useful for archaeology. In reinstating the body in Mesopotamian domestic archives, I have drawn on phenomenology and its corrections, Vico’s evolutionary picture of language, feminist theorising, Peircean semiotics, Wittgenstein and Derrida, structuration and agency theories, as well as on current research in cognitive science and cognitive linguistics (Ruthrof). While all these approaches do not lack the attempt at achieving a theory of language in which the body plays a significant part, except for Peircean corporeal semiotics and Ruthrof’s corporeal stance, it is impossible not to observe a strong tension between a surviving idealism and the corporeal leaning of their writings. In archaeology, the ‘archaeology of the body’ and phenomenological strands not only avoid giving meanings to the symbolic structures of the past but lack a semiotic theory of the world, as well as a theory of the relation of verbal and nonverbal signs. Indeed, social structures can be defined, though not in a deterministic way, if nonverbal semiosis is deemed to be the filling of language.

Semantic theories and corporeal semantics Like all theories of meaning, corporeal semantics is based on metaphysical assumptions about the nature of language and the relation between being and meaning. The corporeal approach inevitably leads to reject the following kinds of metaphysics (Ruthrof 2000: 169). The main flaw of naturalist semantics (Frege, Sterelny, Devitt) is that the important role of semiosis is rejected since words and objects are directly linked without mediation and such links must conform to truthconditions. By contrast, despite post-Saussurean semanticists (Benveniste, Hjelmslev, Lyotard Greimas) shows some metalinguistic features (parole, denotative signs), meaning is still confined to the syntactic circularity of language. No reference links world and language. As Ruthrof shows well, in radical relativist

The corporeal semantics advocated in this book take its main cues from Ruthrof’s semiotics in the Peircean tradition which is more or less between empiricist and relativist semantics (2000: 170). Cognitive results are linked with the hermeneutic understanding: this approach acknowledges that our sign systems are constrained by the external world, the world is semiotic and can be grasped only through interacting signs. The main features

123

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING of Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics and its pragmatic, cognitive variants can be summed up as follows (2000: 30–1). Language is an empty syntactic grid which is meaningless by itself. Meaning comes about when language grids are activated by nonverbal signs and their fantasy variants under community control, while linguistic re-elaborations produce epistemic multiplication of meanings. And linguistic expressions or discourses act as directional schemas in the formation of meaning. At the same time, all reference is tinged by implicit deixis which provides a hidden cultural perspective or nonverbal tendency (not a langue, a grammatical rule). Because it is impossible to understand fully the nonverbal complexes that activate the deictic, referential basis of language, nor is it always easy to understand the ways in which language processes nonverbal readings, different kinds of opacity are pinpointed. These have to do with our difficulties of reconstructing implicit deixis in an ancient language, or a vagueness possibly present within Mesopotamian culture between its language and the referential frame. The combinations of linguistic expressions and nonverbal readings are negotiated between full determinacy and total indeterminacy, though pedagogic and political control in different contexts limit polysemy. Moreover, despite meanings remain open to negotiation, some sort of notion of re-presentation is retained, from simple copying to cognitive distortions. By explaining the difference between technical and symbolic discourse in the differential variations of the nonverbal material processed by language, Ruthrof’s semantics avoids the definitional paradigm of formal system. Interactions among varying semiotic systems may be intersemiotic or heterosemiotic. I have also moved beyond Ruthrof’s approach by acknowledging the incredible potential of language to elaborate and process various nonverbal signs in different symbolic ways. The book thus confirms, through the example of Mesopotamian cuneiform writing, that only the linguistic signifier is arbitrary, while the iconicity of the signifier is progressively internalised by the corporeal signified. Given the unstable and negotiatory dynamics of meaning, ‘sufficient semiosis’ replaces truth-conditions as the checking mechanism that assesses the relation between language and the mediated world.

located in the chapel suite and secondary residential loci in which poorer residents live (secondary branches with poorer graves). The combined use of figurative narratives portraying gender activities, slaves, and diagnostic tools, as well as analysis of the distribution of the same tools within the house, is a reliable means for the identification of gender-related activities and the presence of domestic slaves in the poorer sector of the house (utility/workrooms with poorer graves and tools). Men engage in the usual ‘manly’ tasks (farming, fishing, commerce, manufacture), while the main occupations of women is, beside domestic tasks, the home manufacturing of textiles and possibly the running of textile business organised in the courtyards (spindle whorls, weights, in some cases associated with cylinder seals). More complex behavioural responses are then inferred through the social psychology ‘approachavoidance model’ of distancing mechanisms which accounts for the main interpersonal attitudes – friendly v. hostile and dominant v. submissive. The predominant nonverbal deixis in use concerns five mental maps of space organisation, variant realisations of a limited number of as-structural oppositions, with the presence of different degrees of social tension and local or longdistance solidarity, while the predominance of Model 4 house suggests the ideology of inequality-ancestral cult as a general hermeneutic framework which accounts for this specific space use. The dynamics of the interaction among different nonverbal signs systems on the one hand and between verbal and nonverbal sign systems both in archaeology and ethnography on the other are then illustrated to show how meaning is created both through intersemiotic rapport and heterosemiotic conflict without destroying the expectation of coherent world. Table 7.1 shows that on the axis of the directionality of language the combinations of linguistic expressions and nonverbal readings within Mesopotamian culture are negotiated between two opposites, the full determinacy of mathematical texts and strong indeterminacy of symbolic omens or legal traits with a symbolic character, with an increasingly stronger degree of underdetermination; the same applies to the difference between iconic signs such as house drawing versus symbolic house clay models. Similarly, modal and semiotic opacity tend to increase from mathematical and technical discourse to social and symbolic designations and nonverbal signs (house clay models) for we find it more difficult to reconstruct Mesopotamian implicit deixis when a more complex web of nonverbal materials and their textual re-elaborations are involved in the construction of meanings. Overall, there appears to be a relevant degree of dissonance: nearly half of the textual traits analysed are not in tune with (or not directly manifested in) actual space use, and this has allowed to explain the reasons for such deviance and provide an understanding of Mesopotamian social dynamics.

Corporeal semantics and Mesopotamian domestic architecture To make these points more concrete I have applied them to and tested against the archaeological data from second millennium Mesopotamian domestic architecture. In order to show how implicit spatial deixis fills the ancient cuneiform sources, social psychology studies and theories of nonverbal signals dealing with proxemics and morphology are employed in the construction of Mesopotamian domestic space. While physical cues and their redundancy in specific settings allow identification of main living rooms and residential loci, quantitative analysis of feature/artefact and tomb distribution shows that the main feature of the Mesopotamian courtyard house is a distinction between a dominant family sector

At the bottom of the ladder, the tight fit between Mesopotamian mathematical survey texts and actual 124

THE BODY IN LANGUAGE constructions as well as the textual house sizes and real sizes shows that to the extent that logical features are employed in ordinary discourse we become aware of their diversity: none of the other linguistic designations, however technical their character, exhibit the same degree of full determinacy. Technical discourse referring to city lot designations and their prices, as well as building types show only some opacity, while an increasingly higher degree of opacity is present for the designations of house loci, the concept of ‘house’, and symbolic omen signs. While the designations of less symbolic spaces with a monofunctional usage (‘archive

room’, ‘storeroom’, ‘stairway’) shows a relatively more reduced opacity, the designations of multifunctional spaces (from ‘kitchen’ to ‘chapel’) evidence a stronger heterosemiotic conflict with their nonverbal reconstruction and consequent opacity. Despite most of the loci are multifunctional, the cuneiform designations provide a limited semantic coverage as they refer only to their main characterising function, thus showing how the surplus of nonverbal readings detected archaeologically are synthesised by the language schemata. For instance, the fact that papāΪum, ‘chapel’, covers a web of different nonverbal readings such private courtyard, place of business

Table 7.1 Interactions among different nonverbal signs (drawings and models), and between verbal and nonverbal signs, showing an increasingly stronger heterosemiotic rapport from technical discourse and nonverbal signs to complex social and symbolic signals. Intersemiotic

Heterosemiotic

• increasing opacity Mathematical text House sizes House drawings Verbal/NV interaction in family cycle Technical laws Spatial ethnographic traits City lots and prices ruin constructed lot unconstructed (or neglected lot) Building types House loci storeroom stairwell archive room kitchen entrance living room upper floor living room main living room courtyard chapel

None X X

Little

Some

Much

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

House models House omens ‘realist’ group symbolic group

X X X

Symbolic legal traits Symbolic ethnographic traits

X X

X indicates the presence of modal and semiotic opacity, that is a vagueness we encounter in the reconstruction and interpretation of (ancient) implicit cultural deixis. 125

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING and entertainment, etc., must not lead us to assume that the culture does not have these distinctions. It has them nonverbally; these relevant social dimensions would be hidden if one is to look only at textual descriptions. To say otherwise would suggest that the presence of certain words, but not others, has the power of censoring the visual (nonverbal) messages to our brain. It is more likely, instead, that cultures function quite well in spite (or because) of a certain dissonance between language and nonverbal signs. The designation for ‘house’ conceals a even more complex network of nonverbal readings which shows only a partial overlapping with our current realisation of the same word (‘hotel’, ‘residential hall’ or ‘college’ at a university, ‘House of Commons’ or ‘House of Lords’, versus Mesopotamian ’cabin of a boat’, ‘tomb’, ‘container’). Moreover, given their intrinsic liminal character, the house omens demonstrate either the mutually reinforcing interconnection between domestic architecture and family sociology to support social structure at points where it is vulnerable (males/females, inside/outside, domestic/official sphere) or relatively stronger symbolic meanings hinting at the undue appropriation of royal prerogatives in house construction (royal substances and smells) and hence dissonance with real architecture. These latter omens, showing the creative potential of language, use the metaphoric image of the hunting net to suggest that a house may be either the enemy or the prey of the more powerful institution. No direct relationship does exist between such nonverbal material and omen provisions in the creation of meaning, but this is mediated by textual elaboration of additional nonverbal readings originating from outside the house domain as in Peircean infinite semiosis.

Model 1 to Model 5, which means an increasingly stronger boundary control, privacy regulation and presence of specialised spaces, matches the increasing degree of power shown by more formalised textual barriers (commercial, administrative and judicial). In fact, while the low accessibility values of Model-1 nuclear houses correlate with petty merchants and traders whose local business with kin is spatialised by a simple entrance lobby, Model-2 nuclear houses are inhabited by more important temple administrators and private businessmen whose private business and administrative activities correlates respectively with an expanded entrance suite and a service-storage sector for the temple revenues. As for the extended family houses, Model 4 are characterised by the presence of very important businessmen with slim state connections whose broader range of activities accounts for the presence of a relatively more expanded entrance. While the asymmetric power relations of such patriarchal (Model 4) houses of Ur hinting at primogeniture and other strategies (e.g. preferential share to a favourite son) to perpetuate the wealth of the powerful are embedded by the concomitant asymmetric relation among the residential spaces, Model3 houses such as House K show that the internal presence of social equality in important property-owning lineages at Old Babylonian Nippur matches the symmetric integration of the residential spaces. In the Model-5 double court house, the complex social inequality between a father, a powerful merchant involved in the local procurement of export items for the son’s international copper trade, and a son, namely a even more powerful businessman involved in long distance expeditions and official relations (palace and temple), takes the duplex model of two connected courtyard house with double chapels and main living rooms and different kinds of entrance suites. The presence of extremely complex and official business transactions carried out by Ea-nāΒir, and the storing of valuable export items, require a stronger interface space towards the outside world, as well as a more introverted character of the house as a whole (Table 4.14c). Finally, since the data from Ur and Nippur suggest that most of the observed architectural layouts are the result of the sociology evidenced by the texts, it follows that the relationship between verbal and nonverbal meanings in both sites can provide a better understanding of Mesopotamian residential patterns. Thus, while the asymmetric power relations of the patriarchal houses of Model 4 at Ur can be also ascribed to the contemporary houses of Sippar, Larsa and Isin which follow very similar circulation patterns (Fig. 2.8, b, c, d), the internal presence of social equality in important property-owning lineages at Old Babylonian Nippur may be extended to the similar layouts of Babylon (OB/Kassite), Harâdum (OB), and early Akkadian Tell Asmar (Fig. 2.7, c, d, e). The complex imbalance in internal relations with a mix of local and long-distance trade of the kind evidenced by Model-5 house at Ur (double court house) is also likely to show in similar structures from Ur III Nippur (TB), and Akkadian Tell Asmar (Fig. 2.9, b, c). Here, however, there appears to be an even stronger social imbalance among the

The same dynamics are highlighted for the interaction of verbal and nonverbal sign systems through the developmental cycle of the families. Technicalcontractual discourse shows a strong correlation with the spatial, deictic code and its variation through time across all the house Models 1–5, thereby showing that such social traits can be predicted archaeologically by the combined use of network chart and activity area analysis. In particular, the one-to-one relationship between a living room and a resident family, as well as its multiplication to form extended families, matches the textual evidence on nuclear (Models 1–2) and extended family houses (Models 3–5), while the position of visual dominance of residential spaces hints at social dominance. It is also clear that in all house models a shift in the house accessibility value implies a change of ownership and/or the kind and range of activities, with an increase of the value suggesting an implementation of business and power and vice versa. In most of the house models (Model 1, 4, 5) women high social standing and their active role in business hinted at by the texts is spatialised by the integrated position of ‘female’ spaces such as courtyards, main living rooms and kitchens, while the textual limited slavery correlates with the integrated position of service areas (Models 2, 3, 4). Overall, the progressive increase of the accessibility values from 126

THE BODY IN LANGUAGE resident families in that spaces of prestige such as the chapel and main living room are not symmetrically duplicated in both courtyard sectors but are present only in the main one (b: courtyard 13, c: 2). Likewise, Model1 linear houses from OB Isin and Harâdum, as well as Akkadian Tell Asmar (Fig. 2.5, e, c, d), are likely to be inhabited by the kind of petty merchants and traders detected in similar structures at Ur and Nippur, while relatively more important temple administrators and private businessmen probably also inhabit Model-2 houses from Babylon (OB/Kassite), and Akkadian Tell Asmar (Fig. 2.6, c, e).

neighbouring houses, thereby suggesting that iconic coding such as proximity for close family relations is externalised among different morphologies (see physical proximity of houses, presence of communicating doors). While morphological and textual analysis shows that there are patterns or codes (e.g. the eldest son’s 10% extra share, and asymmetry of the residential loci) which are accepted, learned and implemented by the group collectively, the intentionality, experiences and aspirations of the individual families in creating alternative strategies for property consolidation are also adaptable enough to shift to the different family branches. In some Model-4 houses (Nos. 2 Church Lane, 1 Baker’s Square, AH, Ur) asymmetric power relations are better maintained through textual regulations than via rigid spatial morphologies which may disrupt the family hierarchical relations (less powerful actors are spatially invisible being relegated on upper floor loci). In Model 5 house (Table 4.14a-c), the moderate integration of EanāΒir’s living room 5 along with its being more directly connected to the structured business sectors I-1 and VII-7 represent a variant of high territorial integration for dominance: owing to the family’s international trade, dominance is strategically negotiated between a moderate control of the internal affairs and a much stronger supervision of the structured interior-exterior interface suites where business archives are located.

However, symbolic traits such as gender and power relations exhibit a stronger heterosemiotic conflict with their nonverbal, morphological referent. Expressed in terms of corporeality, this means that the signifieds of the discourse referring to the symbolic world conventionally demand a maximum of fantasy work varying nonverbal material with textual constructions of possible appropriate scenarios and distortions of stereotyped mental mappings in specific strategic contexts of power. In archaeological and morphological terms, this means the presence of anomalous patterns whereby boundaries have not all the same meaning and are not just created physically but may be characterised by symbolic parameters transient in kind. This allows for deviance from the social psychology model of iconic coding (proximity for affection) in that proxemic spacing distances are arbitrarily coded and their meanings vary in different contexts. In Model-1 houses, the similar integration of the entrance courtyard is a strategic mental mapping for spatialising commodity circulation both carried out by an epiclerate (Table 4.3: House E, Nippur) or a male actor (Table 4.4: No. 3 Niche Lane, AH, Ur), thus suggesting some kind of gender equality. It appears strategically more effective here for the male kinship of society that a uniform spatial morphology be imbued with polysemous verbal meanings, thereby accommodating deviant epiclerate families in specific patriarchal residences. Similarly, in the anomalous family of the upwardly aspirer of No. 3 Niche Lane (AH, Ur), Model-1), social relations and power are better managed by symbolic spatial configurations which conceal aspirations expressed by texts. As for power relations among family members, it is clear that in complex structures such Model 1–4 (Table 4.5c: No. 8–10, 12 Paternoster Row, 1–2 Bazaar Alley, AH, Ur), similarly integrated residential spaces may hide different power relations and have different symbolic meanings (proximity for submission: strong integration of residential space 2 of No. 1 Bazaar Alley hints at dependence towards dominant 4–4a sector); these can be detected if the main functions of the other relevant spaces in the network are taken into account (e.g. the presence of both chapel and archives only in Nos. 8–10 and 4–4a Paternoster Row). On the inter-family dimension, Model 1–4 and Model 3 (‘equalitarian’ families of the House K kind at Nippur) show also that inequality and tension is transferred from the intra-family relations to the interfamily relations among different branches residing in

These dynamics are confirmed by the spatial dimensions of juridical discourse and additional texts from state institutions. While technical laws of partitive inheritance with primogeniture (e.g. CH §165 additional gift, and 10% eldest son’s preferential share), the lack of restrictive laws on domestic slavery and female seclusion, as well as the gender division of labour shown by the texts (south Mesopotamian and Assyrian archives from Kanesh, state archives from Ur III, Mari and Karana) match with the actual organisation of space and the predictions of chart morphology evidenced above, an increasingly weaker corroboration is present for those more symbolic legal (and literary) traits which have to do with kinship system, marriage type or gender roles (patrilocality/patrilineality, marriage arrangements involving brideprice and dowry, vertical inheritance, ‘diverging devolution’ of property, endogamy-inmarriage, namely Father's Brother’s Daughter marriage, monogamy or concubinage, prohibited premarital sex, incest taboo, and sexual ideology). Despite the latter traits inform Mesopotamian built environment, some of them can only be inferred from the spatial dimension of the more concrete and potentially observable social expressions of the technical laws. While the prevalent depiction of males and their leadership roles in figurative art, as well as the predominance of male tools in houses may point to patriarchal systems, the presence of diverging devolution of property to both males and females can be also inferred. Women left traces of their business activities in integrated space and this probably suggests that they may have owned and inherited some property and the same applies to men. But without the help of ancient textual information we would remain in 127

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING the realm of hypotheses about kinship, marriage, and sexual ideologies in general. These relates only indirectly to space because they may be strategically negotiated in different ways according to power and prestige structures operating in different contexts, thus determining a flexible use of space for alternative social patterns. In kinship system in which patrilocality and patrilineality, and marriage arrangements with dowry and brideprice prevail there will always be a deviation from the norm and a certain residual percentage of matrilocal/matrilineal families or alternative people which are accommodated in the usual (male) spatial morphologies (e.g. epiclerate in the linear House E, TA, Nippur). Although the legal documents rule over major models of social structure, we do glean from literary texts that women, and indeed men, who fell outside the patrilineal household did exist. This shows that the category of ‘women’ and ‘men’ must be unpacked for they represent a range of different social identities subject to relatively different lifestyles, prestige, roles.

confirms the ethnographic inferences as regards the presence of most traits, purchase marriage, female segregation and domestic cult of God are not characteristic of Mesopotamia. This shows that Goody’s model of female inferiority and seclusion in Eurasian patriarchal societies such as Islam does not apply to Mesopotamia. Hence it appears that patriarchal societies do not necessarily share the same marriage types and gender roles, but these can be managed differently. The next step has been to show how both such diverging and similar traits are embedded in spatial morphologies. The traits shared by Islamic and Mesopotamian societies (house inviolability, male kinship and patrilocal residence, family structures, partitive inheritance with unequal devolution of property) and those which are culture-specific (lack of purdah and higher social standing of Mesopotamian women, lack of polygamy, main ancestral cult) take specific morphological configurations that can be shown directly by comparison between the morphology of archaeological and ethnographic houses. Moreover, one can infer from such ‘territorial’ traits also the more abstract ones (marriage type, women inheritance shares, laws of divorce and remarriage, prohibited premarital sex, incest taboos, endogamy, divorce/remarriage or concubinage and adoption) which being dependent on the former are less tightly embedded in space morphology. The spatial character of both Islamic building regulations and Mesopotamian house omens which emphasise the house privacy determines a strong degree of corroboration between their respective verbal and nonverbal sign systems. Likewise, the Ashanti parallel demonstrates that the spatial correlates of matrilocal societies versus patrilocal ones are embodied in different configurations that can be traced archaeologically (gender-specific spaces with a stronger external interaction for women). Hence patrilocal and patrilineal kinship systems of vertical inheritance can be retrieved archaeologically for their circulation patterns and accessibility measures take specific diagram configurations that remain constant through time from the ancient past (Mesopotamia) up to the ethnographic present (Islam). Moreover, while both Islamic and Mesopotamian texts support the archaeological model for the identification of residential spaces in extended families and nuclear families, partitive inheritance with primogeniture and meritocracy evidenced by both societies is spatialised by a parallel asymmetric integration among residential spaces. As for culture-specific traits, the Mesopotamian more intimate ancestral cult versus the Islamic emphasis on the domestic cult of God correlate respectively with the location of the family vaulted tomb underneath the domestic chapel and the presence of burials outside the house boundary. The different social positions of women (lack of purdah and polygamy, and higher social standing of Mesopotamian women) in both societies take also distinct morphological and archaeological features. In

Comparison with ethnographic data allows inferences about kinship, marriage and sexual ideologies. Since ethnographic inferences and their potential applications to the archaeological record can be assessed against textual sources originating directly from the ancient society concerned, Mesopotamian data can be considered as a general guideline for the legitimacy of ethnographic analogy. Houses from Islam with male kinship, ‘diverging devolution’ of property and sexinequality on the one hand (Figs 6.1–6.3), and female kinship systems such as the African Ashanti house, with lateral inheritance and relative gender equality on the other (Fig. 6.4), are useful comparanda for their power of highlighting divergent social dynamics and diagnostic spatial correlates with respect to the Mesopotamian ones. The historical continuity that exists between ancient Mesopotamian cities and some traditional Islamic ones and the general morphological similarity of their courtyard houses (their inwardlooking structure, the widespread presence of model of social inequality, lack of female residential spaces connected to the outside; compare Figs 2.8 and 6.1) would suggest that the Mesopotamian household shares social traits with Islamic and Eurasian societies as opposed to the African ones (see presence of female loci toward the outside). This would entail that Mesopotamia share the same male kinship of Islam (and Eurasian societies) in which ‘purchase’ marriage (a bride-price is paid on account of marriage or sexual intercourse) implying a structure of virilocal polygamy prevails along with a marriage contract and a law of divorce utterly unfavourable to women, who are thus strongly subordinate to men and coerced through seclusion into their homes. Eurasian traits such as vertical inheritance, ‘diverging devolution’ of property, extended family residences with tension for the control of property, endogamy, monogamy or concubinage, and prohibited premarital sex and some polygamy (Goody 1976) may be also shared by Mesopotamian society. However, while Mesopotamian cuneiform evidence 128

THE BODY IN LANGUAGE Mesopotamia both virilocal polygamy and female seclusion would be likely to show in space by the presence of more structured entrance suites (as in the long theory of lobbies from Islam) and single residential spaces for each wife hinting at female seclusion and polygamy. Although in a few cases tworooms entrance suites are equally segregated from the house network, they express different sociological meanings: men’s reception rooms embodying the Islamic law of purdah, or in Mesopotamia loci for business activities for the family as a whole (see lack of gender-specific sectors). Double courtyard houses may be built to include the harem with the multiplication of independent residential suites for the polygamous family (Fig. 6.2: wealthy city house in Islam) or be the exact duplication of the nuclear family house for the management of international trade (Table 4.14c: EanāΒir’s house No. 1 Old Street/3 Straight Street, AH, Ur). For instance, the evidence of the business activities of Gimil-Nin-giz-zida, a female owner of a cylinder seal, in the entrance courtyard of No. 1B Baker’s Square (AH, Ur, Table 4.13) would be unthinkable in an Islamic house in which women cannot interact with unrelated males, as would be equally impossible the Mesopotamian display of female erotic power. This means that while in Mesopotamia both textual and morphological evidence reinforce one another in the definition of limited interface spaces to protect the house as a whole (and not male honour) for home-based local or international trade, in Islamic society a contrast between family and outsiders is combined with a gender distinction and causes a stronger and more widespread asymmetry in the morphological configuration with an exaggerated expansion of the entrance suite sector. Muslim sexuality is territorial and the house boundary has a more symbolic character. This illustrates that although the meaning and use of space cannot be prescribed merely by deterministic associations between human activities and house planning, this is what was intended by the introduction of (linguistic) regulatory factors such as Islamic purdah, and the redefinition of the architecture by judicial barriers that change tacit rules. Ultimately, abstract cultural traits which show a less direct spatial visibility can then be inferred through the spatial ones. Owing to the lack of female seclusion and polygamy in Mesopotamia, as well as the emphasis on the representation of female sexual allure, it is possible to infer that purchase marriage is not the prevailing pattern, Mesopotamian women may own more property and inherit more than Islamic ones, and that the law of divorce, prohibited premarital sex, and incest taboos are relatively less restrictive in Mesopotamia than in Islam. Further, the presence in Mesopotamia of a male kinship system may allow inferences about the possible presence of endogamy whereby the property is not diffused outside the patrilineal group, while the virtual absence of polygamy would suggest the presence of alternative strategies of property transmission meant to avoid property fragmentation (i.e. divorce, remarriage and concubinage, adoption). That this is a right train of

inferences would be confirmed Mesopotamian textual sources.

by

ancient

The main contribution of nonverbal analysis to archaeological theory, and Mesopotamian archaeology, consists in its predictive potential and application in contexts where textual evidence is absent or incomplete. The data from Mesopotamia suggest that, while network chart analysis and environmental psychology studies can be applied to ancient architecture to put forward hypotheses and predict ancient psychological attitudes and spatial correlates of technical laws on inheritance, gender-related labour and the position of slaves, it is the combined use of network charts and specific ethnographic parallels which may produce a deeper understanding of family dynamics and behavioural correlates for material culture inherent to kinship and marriage types and broader ideologies concerning gender roles and sexual taboos. This shows the importance of studying nonverbal systems, even though ancient texts are very informative on family sociology. As shown by dissonant cases, for strategic reasons texts may be mute about those habitual actions and psychological attitudes that regulate the actual space use. Thus, without nonverbal analysis, we would not know the difference between the textual and the real family. I would conclude that the study of nonverbal semiosis and its hidden dimensions can take us far. The archaeology of verbal and nonverbal meanings Since the Mesopotamian and ethnographic data confirm corporeal semantics in that in both technical and more symbolic discourse there is a process of activation of empty linguistic grids by increasingly complex webs of nonverbal readings (and their further linguistic reelaborations), then the story of arbitrariness is not as straightforward as it may seem. The distinction between language and nonverbal signals implied in much of structuralist theorising on the grounds that the former is arbitrary, discrete, and invariant in coding, while the latter are iconic, continuous, and probabilistic in meaning cannot be maintained (for such distinctions see Argyle 1988: 6). Examples of both arbitrary and iconic coding are found both in textual and nonverbal, morphological evidence from Mesopotamia. In particular, both discourse referring to symbolic meanings and nonverbal signals encapsulating such meanings are generally arbitrarily coded, discrete, and probabilistic (or variant) as suggested by the different meanings of spaces which share similar proximity values (e.g. entrance courtyard for local business versus a mix of local and international business; proximity for submission). By contrast, technical discourse and its nonverbal signals such as proxemic distancing mechanism, visual signs and orientation are invariant in meaning, continuous, and iconic, namely they are similar or equivalent to their referents. The main example of iconic coding shown by both cuneiform and morphological evidence is proximity for affection, or visual control for social dominance. Hence iconicity is also an ingredient of language in that closer and informal social distances shown by texts are 129

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING expressed by concomitant small distances in space configuration and vice versa (e.g. increase of the accessibility values and formalised textual evidence from Model-1 to Model-5 houses). I have demonstrated that this correspondent iconicity and arbitrariness in verbal and nonverbal signals comes about because discourse schemata are primarily parasitic on primary nonverbal signals for the creation of meaning. However, the Mesopotamian data also confirm that since language has developed as an economising grid for elaborating existing nonverbal readings of the world it has formal properties which pinpoint its difference from nonverbal signals. While nonverbal signals in highly structured events such as the ancestors’ rituals may look at first like linguistic sentences in that they obey rules of sequence, there is no generative grammar which may produce an array of new combinations or associations. Nonverbal deixis characterises a tendency rather than a syntax since nonverbal rules are of a statistical character, rather than definite and absolute. Likewise, though there are certain rules relating to non-contiguous moves (e.g. in a homebased business transaction the nature of the departure of a client may be possibly related to the nature of the greeting at the encounter, and the development of the transaction, and encounters may be regulated and interrupted by nonverbal signals) there is no close similarity to phrase-structure grammars where one must necessarily identify connections between non-contiguous words and bracketing processes are to be carried out first in interpreting a sentence (see examples also in Argyle 1988: 291–2). Instead of the double-track paradigm of sounds and words, in human nonverbal communication different signals with similar meaning are employed together, that is proximity, visual orientation, smile, etc. While languages have a broad vocabulary of designations, nonverbal signals have a few combinations of different degrees of friendly versus hostile attitudes encoded by proximity. Such differences would explain why human beings still make ample use of bodily communication despite language allowing a better kind of communication about many issues. Since interpersonal attitudes (and emotions) are better managed by our primeval nonverbal system, so that in emotional situations words are not just useless but embarrassing when they are uttered, it is likely that language failed to develop in these more intimate spheres of human personality (Argyle 1988: 306). Nonverbal communication functions straightforwardly and triggers bodily responses which determine immediate reaction in the receiver, while, owing to the fact that verbal/written signals can process nonverbal readings in a variety of ways, these latter signals generally provide (mediated) information about the outside reality which involves some reasoning.

nonverbal readings in a description of meaning, while in this way nonverbal semiotics would be characterised only by linguistic features. One can conclude that though signifiers may be arbitrary, the sign in its entirety is not. There remains a non-arbitrary relation between signifier and signified in the sense that the signifiers of the cuneiform archives mean only when they are related to their signified meanings, that is perceptual readings and mental elaborations of the world. Peirce has suggested that symbols in natural language are characterised by a trajectory from iconicity to symbolism. The evolution of symbolic forms out of iconic representations has been demonstrated through the Sumerian cuneiform writing which shows how highly iconic signs are gradually formalised to an extent that their immediate recognition is impossible for an outsider. The Mesopotamian data also suggest that the gradual disembodiment of the signifier is matched by a parallel movement in which the abandoned iconicity is gradually absorbed by the signified. This is why portions of the world shown by cuneiform texts can be imagined in the most concrete manner in response to the most abstract words or genre of discourse. Moreover, it is a linguistic bias to assume that only signifiers can operate as general rules. I have shown that also nonverbal sign systems, including the proxemic and the visual ones studied here, have a range from closely mimetic to the highly abstract, from narrowly representational to fantasy variations and distortions. Think of the emergence in the history of Mesopotamian culture of such geometrical reproductions such as house plans drawn on clay tablets or house clay models, all of which appear to be at different degrees transformations of observations of real architecture; they delineate a clear trajectory from the more iconic reproduction of reality of the drawings to the symbolic economy of the models which, being employed as domestic altars, sum up and manipulate the actual environment in order to symbolise the house in its essentials. Likewise, Mesopotamian image making of terracotta female nudes is not necessarily mimetic: the emphatic displaying of the genitals represents a symbolic sign of female erotic power. This allows the inference that arbitrariness is part of a far more general paradigm. If the boundaries of iconicity and arbitrariness mark the latitude of variability of all signification, including language, the following pattern emerges. While a sign with stronger iconic connotations displays immediately its semantic value, the increasing arbitrariness of a sign is paralleled by a concomitant increase in the complexity of hidden semantic dimensions that are provided by the society. Such a model would be perfectly in tune with the results of Ruthrof’s corporeal semantics (2000: 96–97). The main theme in the book has been that meaning derives through the interaction between empty linguistic grids and people’s interpretation of their respective world via nonverbal readings. A triple hermeneutic is at work here. By translating ancient textual evidence on family sociology into our frame of discourse we may at the same time understand more profoundly our world in relation to

The Mesopotamian data show that the view that language is always discrete, arbitrary, and invariant in coding applies only as far as the signifier is concerned. What is problematic in Saussure and structuralism is that they extended the arbitrariness of the signifier to the signified. This shift makes it virtually impossible to accommodate 130

THE BODY IN LANGUAGE that of the Mesopotamians and Islam. The words take on the significatory potential of the nonverbal explorations and thus our language becomes further enriched by nonverbal semiosis both past and present. Our ability to translate between two or more languages is likewise to be grounded in this presence of nonverbal signs. We translate referential and symbolically referential Mesopotamian texts in a satisfactory way when we are able to figure out more or less precisely what sort of world the reader is supposed to fantasise. For only when we have seriously deconstructed the ancient nonverbal readings we are in a position to ask which present linguistic schemata would best reflect this nonverbal scenario. At different points in the book I have deconstructed some of the modern elements of domestic sociology and construction of space in relation to the Mesopotamians and traditional Islam. Contrary to our Western stress on monofunctional spaces, Mesopotamian and Islamic architectural segmentation is far more reduced, while the current substitution of the notion of estate for that of street, as well as a particular concept of the house, also show how Mesopotamian cultural deixis is negotiated differently against the Islamic one and our entirely different deixis of space use in a globalised world. The Mesopotamian data show also that female sexual power is not linked with our western idea of primitive urges and nature but with a cultural behaviour, while the ancient conception of the ‘other’ in terms of moral behaviour contrasts with our racial ideology. Many of the mental imagery provided by the sexual potency texts, certainly condemned in traditional Islam, stress female sexual stimulation and erotic power. Such differences are theoretically important because they counter definitions of gender roles and the body as they are elaborated in the Western and Islamic cultures. This suggests that postmodern theories must be critically confronted with the ancient evidence, if one is to understand both past and present cultures.

monuments, figurative narratives, and literary documents, in the domestic sphere the strong degree of heterosemiotic conflict evidenced for symbolic traits and sexual ideologies suggests individual nonverbal deviance and heterosemiotic dynamics within a general framework of community control. By contrast, the ‘convergence revolution’, the merging of different media into one main system of virtual language which reaches deep also into our domestic sphere, determines that high-intensity intersemiotic associations are at the heart of the notion of our present culture. Intersemiotic meaning bonds in any culture can acquire such a force that this can result in brutalities (Ruthrof 2000: 84). Possibly, while in a culture such as Mesopotamia in which intersemiotic intensity is counteracted by heterosemiotic relations there is a less atrocious scenario, high-intensity intersemiotic bonds as well as heterosemiotic intolerance both in western ‘over-intense’ democracies and Islamic ‘extremist’ societies seem responsible for the disastrous events in the Near East today. Within the current 'War on Terror', the pervasiveness of the violent social struggle which penetrates well beyond the political scenario alone puts under scrutiny the archaeologist’s role. The recent disaster in Iraq shows once more the limits of a linguistic theory of meaning in that the many people who were killed, beheaded, or otherwise, during the war would be disgusted by the cynic rhetoric of the conflict as a mere string of signifiers. I do not know whether it compels to archaeology to be an ethical discipline but if it does then a possible way out to linguistic imperialism is to abandon a linguistic kind of understanding and find common forms of mutuality that go beyond language – be it a written text, an utterance or an hyper text. Archaeology has a privileged position in the sense that by studying different cultures it can bring to the fore awareness about subectivism and subjectification, while archaeologists working in the area have the chance of interacting with local people and hence can create situations in which alternative narratives are not overlooked. I have shown that interpersonal attitudes and feelings can be communicated more effectively through different nonverbal signals than language. Though a wider understanding of nonverbal communication may induce more people to control their own behaviour and personal attitudes, thus limiting the immediacy of nonverbal systems, I believe greater awareness should have the effect of increasing social skills and sensitivity towards different cultures, thus developing more balanced intersemiotic bonds. The point is that the contrasting views produced by different sign systems and different cultures do not rule out the human hope for a sensible and possibly ‘friendly’ world.

With this regard, Mesopotamian evidence also gives us an idea about the degree of subjectivism versus subjectification in the present with respect to the past. The understanding of verbal texts or ancient documents involves imaginary processes which are not entirely subjective but, in significant measure, socially steered. However, just as the community can be challenged by individual creativity, society is always in a position to determine subjectification and so hamper the process of subjectivation. The imposition of power by the society may be very deceptive because by penetrating in the realm of our, and past people’s, imagination, subjective freedom may be confused for something that is mainly a societal construal (Ruthrof 2000: 137–9). This allows for both communication and oppression. In the current world in which media and digital standardisation of images constrain dramatically our vision of the world, individual nonverbal dissonance is highly restrained. However, even in pre-internet societies such as Mesopotamia, people’s imagination is much more socially controlled than it would seem. While this is certainly so on the public level through a series of media ranging from symbolic

Digital archaeology and the ‘dead’ body Today, archaeology communicates through an increasing number of textual contexts, from books to electronic texts, but does the spread of archaeological insights through technological devices alter the nature of the relationship between verbal and nonverbal signs? With the death of the physical body, in a world governed by digital and formal systems, it would seem that corporeal 131

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING semantics and its archaeological application is a nonsense. Yet hypertexts or robotics require bodies. Words and things still appear to us in a semiotic form, while sign systems can also be stretched beyond the human dimension. For instance, hypertexts, etc., create signs which do not merely supplement our significatory perspective but enhance our epistemic dimension. Hence technological texts may indeed aid archaeological reflexivity in the sense that through aspects such as intertextuality they multiply and process the webs of nonverbal readings attached on virtual signifiers. Insofar as human beings need to be active in the world, corporeality cannot be dismissed. According to Ruthrof, empty signifiers or bytes need be triggered by nonverbal semiosis to make sense of the external reality; and no matter whether bodies are biological or artificial, to be able to operate they would need some kind of programming which defines a sensor interaction with the reality (2000: 177–8). If corporeal semantics can be shown to apply to the cybernetic future and technological

texts, it seems reasonable to deduce that this is more so for natural languages. This deduction implies, however, that we consider culture as a sort of program. In archaeological terms, this seems plausible enough. The repetitive patterning in the archaeological record of Mesopotamian, Islam as well any other culture mirrors a sort of flexible programming or the mapping of constant fantasies or concepts. Though there is no doubt that digital technology has semantic effects on communication at large and formal programs cannot not account for human creativity and intentionality, I believe that such arguments are better made within a theory of language that does not reject the corporeal. After all, the paradox of our current world is that the more the world is globalised and made digital, the more primeval human feelings of sufferance, pain, horror and diffidence towards alien cultures come to the fore, thus showing how the ‘unspoken’ is still the deep ground of the digital era.

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Index of Lipit-Ištar 60-62, 61 of Masija 64-66, 65 of Ningal-nam-nin-²e-du and Lugal-gu-ni-da 95, 96 of Ninlil-zimu 85-88, 87 of Šamaš-nāsir 76, 77 of Tāb-ilišu 92, 93 of Ur-Nanna 78-80, 79 see also tablets artefacts 2, 22, 25, 26, 28, 52, 124 blades 27, 28 chisels 27, 28 drills 27, 28 grinders 27, 28 hooks 27, 28 loom weights 27, 66, 108, 124 spindle whorls 27, 66, 92, 106, 108, 124 weapons 26, 27, 83 weights 27, 28 Ardener, S. 35 Argyle, M. 23, 24, 129, 130 Asher-Greve, J.M. 104 Assante, J. 54, 105 Assur 45, 74, 106 Assyria 4, 42, 45, 50, 74, 103-106, 119, 127 Assyrian women 105-106 Assyriology 1, 8, 11 Aurenche, O. 112, 116 Babylon 3, 8, 20, 23, 30, 32, 49, 126, 127 Babylonia 20, 22, 42, 49, 104 Baghdad 9, 22, 112, 114, 114 Bahrani, Z. 8, 13, 36, 105 Banning, E.B. 11, 12 Banting, P. 13, Barber, E.W. 27, 28, 74, 101,106 Barrett, J.C. 13 Batto, B.F. 106, 107 Baudrillard, J. 6, 14, 123 Benveniste, É 5, 123 Bernstein, B. 25, 28, 31, 70, 78 Biggs, R.D. 105 Bittel, K. 50 body 1-3, 36, 54, 104, 105, 119, 123, 131-132 archaeology of the 13, 123 Bourdieu’s theory of practice 13, 23 cognitive science 2, 3, 12, 15, 123 Derrida’s view 4, 6, 7, 14, 16, 18, 19, 37, 109, 123 feminist theory 12, 123 Giddens’s structuration theory 13, 123 Heidegger’s phenomenology 12 Husserl’s phenomenology 12 Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology 12 Peirce’s view 15-16, 123 Ruthrof’s implied cultural deixis 17 Vico’s evolutionary view 3, 14-15, 123 Wittgenstein 16, 123

Abu Hijara 116, 117 Abu Salabikh 11-12 Ackerman, D. 15, 37 activity areas 3, 25, 27, 51, 121 analysis 3, 25-27, 46, 53, 126 female 27-28, 27, 35, 54, 64, 75, 108, 113, 121 male 27-28, 35 Adams, R. McC. 11 adoption 4, 73, 74, 93, 105, 106, 107, 118, 119, 121, 122, 128, 129 African Ashanti 4, 111, 112, 114-115, 117, 118, 120, 128 agency 7, 13, 123 Akkadian language 1, 14, 38, 41, 47, 53, 84, 94 Akkadian period 1, 14, 29, 30, 32, 34, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 42, 43, 45, 127, 112, 126, 127 Al-Azzawi, S.H. 112, 114 aletheia 38 Altman, I. 23, 24 Amiran, R. 42 Anatolia 42, 103, 106, 119 anderun 115, 115 see also harem Andrén, A. 12 animals 10, 15, 24, 28, 107 anthropology 1, 7, 8, 24, 123 approach-avoidance model 24, 25, 28-31, 29, 30, 35, 60, 62, 64, 67, 70, 75, 76, 78, 80, 82, 84, 85, 90, 92, 95, 97, 101, 114 see also nonverbal communication arbitrariness 3, 4, 5, 7, 14, 15, 16, 129, 130 archaeology 1, 3-5, 20, 23, 28, 53, 121, 122, 123,124, 129, 131 corporeal 18-19 culture historical 7, 8 digital 131-132 feminist 13, 35 interpretive 7, 130 Mesopotamian 2, 4, 7-12, 27, 111, 123 of the body 2, 13-14, 123 phenomenological 2, 123 postprocessual 7, 13, 123 processual 7, 8, 123 self-reflexivity 2, 123 Archi, A. 35 archives 3, 4, 7-8, 9, 11, 19, 20, 21, 23, 25, 27, 30, 31, 35, 38, 51, 52, 54, 60-102 of Agūa 83, 84 of Atta 81, 82 of Dumuzi-gāmil 67-69, 68 of Ea-nāsir 97-102, 100, 106, 120, 126 of Enlil-issu and Enlil-iqišam 90, 91 of Iddin-Ninurta 62-64, 63 of Imlikum 70-75, 73 141

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING see also nonverbal communication and corporeal semantics Boserup, E. 118 Bottéro, J. 2 Bourdieu, P. 13, 23 ‘habitus’ 13, 23 Bretschneider, J. 42 bricks 10, 21-23, 25, 26, 26, 39, 46, 47, 48, 50, 52, 78, 82, 92, 94, 95, 101, 111, 112 in mathematical texts 46, 48, 48 size 39, 46 brideprice 10, 109, 112, 127, 128 Brusasco, P. 2, 9, 10, 22, 25, 28, 49, 60, 67, 70, 74, 76, 78, 82, 84, 90, 92, 95, 97 burials 10, 25, 26, 35, 47, 53, 90, 95, 103, 114, 120, 124, 126, 128 family vault 25, 35, 90, 95, 103, 120, 128 in Islam 114, 120, 128 larnax 26 pot 26 business 8, 9, 11, 27, 31, 35, 39, 52, 53, 60-64, 65, 66-70, 68, 73, 74-85, 77, 79, 81, 83, 87, 88-97, 91, 93, 96, 100, 101, 102, 106-109, 113, 115, 117, 119, 120, 124, 126, 127, 129, 130 international scale 68, 69, 70, 97, 100, 101, 102, 120, 126, 127, 129 local scale 31, 61, 62-70, 63, 65, 68, 73, 75, 76, 77-79, 78, 80-84, 81, 83, 87, 88, 90, 91, 93, 94, 95, 96, 100, 101, 102, 126, 129 textiles 27, 28, 106, 108, 109, 119, 124 see also male and female activities Calvet, Y. 23, 26 Canter, D. 23, 24 Chang, B.G. 38 Charpin, D. 11, 49, 78, 80, 84, 95 cognitive linguistics 2, 15, 18, 123 cognitive science 2, 3, 12, 15, 123 Colbow, G. 106 concubinage 105, 107, 109, 112, 118, 119, 121, 122, 127-129 community control 1, 3, 13, 16, 17, 18, 117, 124, 131 Kant’s sensus communis 116 Peirce’s notion of 13, 16 Cooper, J.S. 119 corporeal semantics 1, 2, 4-7, 12, 13, 14-17, 37, 38, 46, 54, 123-124, 124-129, 131-132 and archaeology 18-19, 46, 54, 124-129, 131-132 Ruthrof’s approach 1, 2, 5, 6, 12, 14-18, 37, 38, 46, 54, 123-124, 129, 132 see also body and nonverbal communication corporal turn 2, 12-13 see also corporeal semantics culture history 7, 8 cult and ritual 25, 35, 36, 45, 54, 58, 70, 76, 84, 92, 102, 105, 114, 118-120, 122, 124, 128 see also house loci (chapel) Dalley, S.M. 106, 107 Damerow, P. 15 Davidson, D. 38

Deetz, J. 7 deixis 3, 5, 17-18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 28-36, 29, 30, 32-34, 37, 46, 50, 51, 53, 54, 58, 62, 67, 94, 97, 108, 109, 122, 124, 125, 130, 131 and reference 3, 5, 6, 7, 17-18, 38, 53, 54, 123, 124 Delougaz, P. 23 De Meyer, L. 23 demons 54 Derrida, J. 4, 6, 7, 14, 16, 18, 19, 37, 109, 123 différance 4, 6, 14, 37, 109 Devitt, M. 5, 123 Diakonoff, I.M. 9-11, 69, 70, 74, 82, 92 différance 4, 6, 14, 37, 109 see also Derrida digital archaeology 4, 6, 123, 131-132 Dilbat 9, 47, 49, divination 54, 58 see also house omens divorce 105, 107, 109, 112, 113, 118, 119, 121, 122, 128, 129 in Islam 112, 113, 118, 119, 121, 122, 128, 129 in Mesopotamia 105, 107, 109, 118, 119, 121, 122, 128, 129 Doi, A.R.I. 113, 119 dowry 10, 73, 79, 80, 92, 93, 103-107, 109, 112, 113, 118, 119, 127, 128 see also brideprice and tablets driba 114, 114, 121 Dummett, M. 6 Early Dynastic period 4, 11, 32, 103, 106 Eco, U. 17, 23 Edzard, D.O. 49, 53, Elam 42, 43 Ellis, R. 58 Emar 44, 45, 103 endogamy 107, 109, 113, 118, 119, 121, 122, 127, 128, 129 see also marriage (in-marriage) Englund, R. 15 environmental psychology 3, 23, 110, 129 see also social psychology and nonverbal communication epiclerate 66, 105, 106, 107, 109, 110, 119, 121, 127, 128 see also women (outside the patrilinear household) Ešnunna 23 see also Tell Asmar ethnography 2, 4, 7, 8, 9-10, 11, 28, 106, 109, 110, 111-118, 114-117, 118-122, 123, 124, 125, 128-132 see also African Ashanti and Islam Eurasian societies 105, 111, 118, 128 Evans, Gareth 17 extended family 9, 11, 28, 31, 60, 62, 64, 70, 71, 73, 74, 75, 78, 85, 88, 89, 90, 92, 95, 97, 101, 112, 115, 117, 118, 126, 128 Fairclough, N. 1, 6 Fauconnier, G. 18 female activities 27-28, 27, 35, 67, 101, 108, 109,

142

INDEX 117, 119, 120, 121, 124, 127-129 business 27-28, 66, 67, 69, 74, 75, 84, 95, 101, 105-107, 108, 109, 117, 119-121, 124, 126, 127, 128, 129 doctors 106 domestic tasks 27, 35, 105, 106, 113, 124 fieldwork (gardening) 106 prostitutes 105, 109, 121 scribes 106 singers and musicians 106 spinning 27, 27, 28 warping 27, 27 weaving 27, 27, 28 witches and magicians 105 see also textiles and women feminist theory 2, 12-13, 35, 123 in Mesopotamian archaeology 13, 35 Figulla, H.H. 21, 50, 90 figurative arts 3, 27, 27, 28, 36, 108, 109, 127 Finke, R.A. 15 Foucault, M. 6 Frege, G. 5, 17, 18, 123 Gadamer, H-G. 6, 111 Gasche, H. 26 gender roles 4, 10, 13, 25, 27, 28, 35-36, 54, 57-59, 67, 102, 104, 106-109, 111, 114, 115, 117-121, 124, 127-129, 131 representation 27, 27, 36, 120, 129 Giddens, A. 13, 23 Gnivecki, P. 25, 112 gods 8, 21, 22, 25, 36, 45, 54, 55, 56, 58, 103, 114, 119, 120, 128 household 25, 45, 54, 55, 56, 58, 103, 114, 120, 128 in Islam 114, 119, 120, 128 patron 8, 21, 22, 36, 58 Goody, J. 95, 103, 113, 118, 119, 128 Gosden, C. 13 Greengus, S. 80 Greimas, A.J. 5, 123 Grøn, O. 24 Guinan, A.K. 54, 55, 56, 57-59 Habuba Kabira 45 Hadidi 45 Haines, R.C. 22, 64 Hall, E.T. 24 Halliday, M.A.K. 1 Hammurabi 3, 22, 50, 59, 60, 90, 103-107, 118, 125, 127, 129 Law Code 3, 50, 59, 103-107, 118, 125, 127, 129 Hanson, J. 23, 25, 50, 117 Harâdum 3, 23, 25, 29, 32, 57, 126, 127 harem 106, 113-115, 115, 119-121, 129 see also anderun Harris, R. 9 Hasanabad 116, 117 Hauptsaal-Empfangsraum 25 Hayles, K. 6 Heidegger, M. 2-4, 12, 14-17, 19, 38, 58, 109, 122 aletheia 38

as-structure 3, 4, 14, 16, 17, 19, 36, 45, 58, 109, 122 Heinrich, E. 26, 39, 51 heirs 56, 103-105 see also inheritance Henrickson, E.F. 49 hermeneutics 6, 7, 13, 15, 17, 36, 109, 111, 123, 124, 130 heterosemiotic relation 3, 37, 39, 43, 44, 45, 46, 51, 52, 56, 59, 65, 66, 68, 69, 73, 87, 89, 93, 96, 97, 100, 102, 107, 122, 124, 125, 125, 127, 131 Hill, H.D. 23, 39 Hillier, B. 23, 25, 50, 117 Hjelmslev, L. 5, 123 Hodder, I. 7, 13, 35 Holmes, J. 1, 17 house designations 3, 46-54, 47, 52, 125, 126 building types 47, 50-51, 125 loci 3, 47, 49, 51-53, 52, 125-126, 125 lots 47, 49-50, 125, 125 prizes 3, 47, 50, 125, 125 sectors 51 sizes 46, 47, 49, 125 house loci 3, 10, 25-28, 26, 31, 35, 36, 39, 42, 44, 46, 47, 49, 50, 51-53, 52, 54, 55, 57, 64, 67, 70, 76, 84, 85, 88-90, 92, 94, 95, 97, 101, 103, 108, 115, 117, 120, 124, 125, 125, 127-129 archive room 25-28, 26, 30, 31, 35, 51, 52, 54, 60, 70, 71, 72, 74, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83, 84, 92, 93, 95, 96, 97, 99, 125, 125 chapel 25-28, 26, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 35, 39, 51, 52, 52, 54, 60, 63, 70, 71, 72, 74, 76-85, 81, 83, 89-97, 91, 93, 96, 99, 101-103, 107, 108, 114, 120, 124, 125, 125, 127, 128 courtyard 10, 21, 22, 25-28, 26, 29, 30, 31-35, 32-34, 42, 44, 49-52, 52, 54, 55, 56, 58, 60, 61, 63, 64, 65, 66-70, 68, 71, 72, 76-78, 77, 79, 81, 82-85, 83, 86, 91, 93, 95-97, 96, 99, 101, 102, 108, 112, 114, 115, 116, 117, 120, 121, 124-126, 125, 127-129 entrance 25-28, 26, 29, 30, 31, 32-34 , 35, 51, 52, 54, 57, 61, 63, 64, 65, 67, 68, 69, 71, 72, 75, 76, 77, 78-80, 79, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 90-97, 91, 93, 96, 99, 101, 108, 114, 114, 115, 117, 120, 121, 125, 126, 129 kitchen 25-28, 26, 31, 32, 34, 35, 36, 51-53, 52, 57, 71, 72, 85, 86, 88, 99, 102, 108, 114, 125, 125, 126 lavatory 25-28, 26, 32-34, 71, 72, 81, 83, 91, 92, 93, 96, 99 living room 25-28, 26, 27, 28, 31-35, 32-34, 39, 44, 51, 52, 52, 54, 61, 62, 64, 66, 69, 70, 71, 72, 75, 76, 80, 84, 85, 86, 88-90, 91, 92-95, 93, 96, 97, 99, 101,108, 114-117, 116, 120, 124, 125,126, 127 main living room 25-28, 26, 31, 33, 34, 35, 39, 51, 52, 54, 61, 64-70, 65, 68, 71, 72, 75-80, 77, 81, 82-85, 83, 89, 90-95, 91, 93, 96, 97,

143

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING 99, 101, 102, 108, 114, 115, 117, 120, 124-127, 125 service/workroom 25-28, 26, 32, 33, 36, 44, 57, 71, 72, 76, 79, 81, 83, 84, 86, 91, 99, 108, 114, 116, 124 stairway 25-28, 26, 32-34, 48, 50, 51, 52, 54, 64, 71, 72, 86, 91, 92-96, 93, 99, 101, 125, 125 storeroom 10, 26-28, 26, 29, 30, 32, 33, 47, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54, 64-67, 65, 68, 71, 72, 76, 77, 79, 85, 86, 95, 96, 108, 116, 125, 125 upper-floor living room 26, 51, 52, 54, 57, 64, 88, 90, 92, 94, 95, 97, 125, 127 house omens 3, 46, 54-59, 55, 56, 108, 120, 125, 126 house social models 1, 7, 8, 10, 11, 20, 23, 25, 28-35, 29, 30, 32-34, 36, 39, 42, 44, 60, 64, 66, 69, 70, 75, 76, 78, 80, 82, 84, 85, 86, 88-90, 95, 97, 101,106, 107, 111, 112, 117, 124, 126-127, 128, 130 archaeological model of residential spaces 26, 62, 64, 75, 88, 120, 128 clay models 3, 37, 38, 42-45, 43, 44, 124, 125, 130 drawings 3, 37, 39-42, 40-42, 46, 48, 49, 125, 130 Hrouda, B. 23 Hull, D. 8 Huot, J.-L. 23 Husserl, Edmund 2, 12 Ibn Khaldûn 10 iconic signs 3, 14, 15, 16, 54, 124, 127, 129, 130 Ingarden, R. 37 inheritance 3, 4, 7, 9, 10, 46, 47, 49-51, 59, 60, 62, 66, 70, 73, 75-78, 77, 83, 84, 85, 87, 88-90, 92-95, 93, 97, 103-113, 118-122, 127-129 by daughters 66, 104-105, 106, 107, 109, 110, 112, 118-119, 121, 127, 128 by sons 88, 103-104, 107, 112, 118-119, 126, 127 preferential share 88, 107, 112, 126, 127 intentionality 2, 7, 12, 89, 127, 132 interpretive archaeology 7, 18, 53, 67, 89 intersemiotic relation 3, 13, 15, 16-18, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42, 45, 46, 48, 48, 49-51, 54, 55, 57, 59, 61, 62-66, 63, 65, 68, 69, 73, 75, 77, 78-82, 79, 81, 83, 85, 87, 89, 91-93, 92, 94, 96, 97, 100, 102, 108, 120, 121, 124, 125, 131

Jakobson, R. 14 Jencks, C. 23 Johnson, B. 6 Jones, T.B. 9 Kalla, G. 49-51 Kanesh 106, 127 Karana 4, 103, 106, 127 Kassite period 23, 30, 32, 126, 127 Kay, P. 37 Kempton, W. 37 Kendon, A. 37 Kepinski-Lecomte, C. 23 Khatib-Chahidi, J. 112, 113, 115 Kilmer, A.D. 46 Kiš 39, 40, 42, 48, 49 Klengel, H. 49 Koran 112-113, 118-119 Koshurnikov S.G. 9, 50 Kramer, C. 10, 28, 112, 117 Kramer, S.N. 105 Kraus, F.R. 103 KÙŠ (cubit) 39, 48 Kutalla 9, 49, 51, 52, 104 Lacan, J. 5-6, 7, 14 Lagash 4, 103, 106 Lakoff, G. 2, 16 Lambert, M. 106 language see verbal communication langue 3, 5, 17, 23, 124 Larsa 3, 22, 23, 25, 26, 31, 33, 46, 47, 48, 49-51, 52, 57, 68, 80, 85, 86, 87, 103, 104, 126 Lavin, M.W. 24 law 1, 3-4, 18, 50, 59, 79, 80, 103-110, 112-113, 117, 118-122, 125, 127-129 Code of Hammurabi 50, 59, 103-107, 118-122, 125, 127-129 judicial proceedings 103-107, 118-122, 125, 127-129 spatial dimension 107-110, 118-122, 125, 127-129 Ur III code 103 see also Koran Lawrence, R.J. 23, 24, 70, 108, 121 Lebeau, M. 44 Leemans, W.F. 11, 67, 101, 103, 104, 107 Legrain, L. 84, 95 Leibniz, G.W. 38 Levant 42 Lévi-Strauss, C. 7 linguistic turn 2, 5-7, 13 Lloyd, S. 23 Lucy, N. 38 Lyotard, J-F. 6, 37, 123 male activities 27, 28, 60-102, 52, 77, 83, 100, 106-107, 109, 117-124, 126, 127, 129 animal husbandry 107 brewing 106 business/commerce 8, 9, 11, 27, 28, 31, 52, 53, 60-102, 106, 107, 109, 117-119, 120, 124, 126, 127, 129

intragrammatical relations 5-6 Iran 112, 115, 116, 117 Iraq 8, 11, 20, 22, 51, 112, 131 Isin 22, 23, 26, 29, 31, 33, 49, 57, 85, 86, 87, 126, 127 Islam 2, 4, 8, 9-10, 11, 28, 106, 111-115, 114-116, 117-122, 123, 128-132 Islamic houses 10, 28, 51, 112-118, 114-116, 120, 129 town house 51, 112, 114-118, 114 village house 112, 115-118, 116 wealthy Iranian house 112, 115, 115 itinnu 41, 50

144

INDEX doctors 106 dyeing 106, 107 farming 27, 28, 118, 124 fishing 27, 28, 76, 77, 78, 83, 92, 107, 124 manufacturing 27, 28, 52,106-107,124 metallurgy 107 milling 106 navigation 76, 97-101, 100, 107 scribal 22, 23, 27, 49, 60, 76, 106, 107 singers and musicians 106 war/hunting 27 Mallowan, M. 10, 21, 21, 22, 26, 36, 46, 55, 56, 84, 112 Margueron, J.C. 9, 44, 45 Mari 4, 27, 43, 44, 103, 106, 107, 127 marriage 3, 4, 10, 80, 104-105, 107-109, 111-114, 118-121, 127-129 dominion 112, 118-120 in African Ashanti 4, 111, 114, 118, 120, 128 inchoate 104 in Islam 4, 10, 111-113, 118-121, 128, 129 in-marriage 107, 109, 113, 118, 119, 121, 122, 127-129 in Mesopotamia 3, 4, 10, 80, 104-105, 107, 108, 109, 111, 118-121, 127, 128, 129 purchase 104, 118, 120, 121, 128, 129 uxorilocal 105, 111, 114, 118, 120, 128 Martin, W.J. 21, 50, 90 Masuda, S.-I. 45 Matouš, L. 103 matrilineal/matrilocal systems 109, 111, 112, 114, 115, 118, 120, 128 Matthews, R. 2, 8, 11, 12 Matthews, W. 11 McCown, D.E. 22, 64, 76 Mehrabian, A. 24, 31, 35, 70, 85, 90, 92, 95, 97, 101, 102, 115 Merleau-Ponty, M. 12 Mernissi, F. 112, 113, 121 Miglus, P.A. 25 Minces, J. 112, 113 Mitanni/Middle Assyrian period 44, 45, 50 monogamy 107, 109, 118, 127, 128 Moreland, J. 12 morphological analysis 3, 20, 23-25, 28-36, 39-45, 60-102, 108, 119 see also network charts Morris, I. 7 Muller, B. 42 Nemet-Nejat, K.R. 46 Neo-Babylonian period 16, 26 network charts 3, 25, 28-36, 29, 30, 32-34, 39-42, 40, 41, 42-45, 43, 44, 60-102, 61, 63, 65, 68, 71-73, 77, 79, 81, 83, 86, 87, 91, 93, 96, 98-100, 107, 108, 110, 111, 122, 126, 129 Nevett, L. 35, 117 Nippa, A. 51 Nippur 1, 3, 9, 10, 11, 22-23, 22, 25, 26, 29, 30, 31, 32, 34, 35, 40, 46, 47, 48, 49-51, 57, 60-66, 61, 63, 65, 76, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 95, 104, 106, 107, 109, 126-128

TA site 3, 10, 22-23, 22, 29, 32, 40, 49, 57, 60, 61, 62-66, 63, 65, 85-88, 86, 87, 90, 95, 106, 107, 109, 128 TB site 22, 30, 34, 40, 49, 57, 76, 126 Ur III temple of Inanna 9, 11 Nissen, H. 15 nonverbal communication 3, 20, 23-36, 38-59, 60-102, 130, 131 application to the archaeological record 25-36, 38-59, 60-102, 130, 131 see also approach-avoidance model Nötscher, F. 54 nuclear family 10, 11, 26, 28, 60, 62, 64, 69, 70, 72, 73, 74-76, 78, 80, 82, 84, 90, 92, 94, 112, 119, 120, 128, 129 Nuzi 42-45, 43, 44, 103 Oates, J.L. 16, 27 Old Babylonian period 4, 9-11, 16, 20, 22, 23, 30-32, 31, 39, 40-42, 46, 49, 54, 80, 85, 86, 103-106, 126, 127 Ong, W. 15 Oppenheim, A.L. 8, 9, 67, 101 orientation 14, 15, 17, 24, 28, 31, 39, 56, 57, 62, 64, 66, 69, 76, 78, 80, 82, 84, 88, 90, 94, 97, 101, 108, 114, 115, 129, 130 see also nonverbal communication and proxemics orphans 105, 107 palace 8-9, 11, 47, 53, 56, 58, 60, 64, 67, 68, 69, 74, 75, 79, 80, 88, 93, 101, 106, 123, 126 parole 123 Parrot, A. 44 patrilineal/patrilocal systems 9, 10, 60, 62, 88, 101, 104, 105, 107, 109, 111, 112, 118-121, 127-129 Pauty, E. 9 Peirce, C.S. 2-4, 13-17, 18, 23, 37, 38, 123, 126, 130 notion of ‘community’ 13, 16 perception 1, 12, 17, 49, 58 see also body, phenomenology and senses Petherbridge, G.T. 112-115 Pfälzner, P. 11, 44 phenomenology 12, 13, 123 in archaeology 13, 123 polyandry 105, 109 polygamy 112, 118-122, 128, 129 positivism 7, 15, 38 Postgate, J.N. 8-10, 11, 15, 27, 28, 103-105, 107 postmarital residence 95, 105, 112, 120, 128, 129 neolocal 95 uxorilocal 105, 111, 114, 118, 120, 128 virilocal 95, 105, 112, 120, 128, 129 postmodern theories 6, 14, 38, 131 postprocessual archaeology 7, 13-14, 123 pottery 27, 28, 107 Potts, D.T. 11 Powell, M.A. 46 prebends 64, 76, 77, 93 Preucel, R.W. 7

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THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF VERBAL AND NONVERBAL MEANING priests 9, 11, 22, 53, 64, 73, 74, 76, 77, 79, 80, 106 priestesses 65, 66, 104, 106, 107, 119 nadītu 65, 66, 107, 119 privacy 24, 25, 31, 35, 54, 57, 70, 76, 82, 84, 90, 92, 95, 97, 113, 115, 117-120, 122, 126, 128 see also nonverbal communication processual archaeology 7, 8, 123 prostitution 105, 109, 121 proxemics 1-3, 14, 17-20, 24-25, 28-36, 29, 30, 32-34, 37, 60-102, 103, 107-110, 124, 126-130 see also nonverbal communication and orientation Pruss, A. 36 purdah 113, 117, 119, 120-122, 128, 129 see also women (seclusion) Rapoport, A. 23 Reade, J. 105 reference 3, 5-7, 17-18, 38, 53, 54, 123, 124 Renfrew, A.C. 7 Reuther, O. 23 Richter, T. 8 Ricoeur, P. 6 Rif’at Uthman, M. 112 Rim-Sin 67, 70, 74, 78, 80, 82, 84, 90, 92 Robson, E. 46 Rorty, Richard 6, 7 Rumeilah 44, 45 Ruthrof, H. 1-3, 5-7, 12-18, 37-38, 54, 123-124, 131, 132 Sanders, D. 23, 24 Saussure, F. de 2, 3, 5-7, 14, 123, 130 Schlick, M. 38 school (eduba) 23, 39, 41, 49, 60-62, 61, 63-65, 64, 66, 76, 77, 79, 80, 83, 84, 85 scribes 22, 49, 76, 106, 107 seals and sealings 27, 27, 28, 64, 65, 66-69, 68, 76, 77, 81, 82, 85, 92, 95, 96, 106, 108, 109, 120, 124, 129 Seidl, U. 26, 39, 51 semantic opacity 3, 18, 38, 46, 47, 48-50, 48, 51-54, 52, 57, 58, 62, 64, 66, 67, 69,75, 78, 80, 82, 85, 89, 92, 94, 97, 102, 107-109, 121,122, 124, 125, 125 semantics 1-7, 12-18, 37, 38, 46, 54, 123-124, 129, 131, 132 cognitive 5, 15-16, 18, 38, 124, 129 corporeal 1-7, 12-18, 37, 38, 46, 54, 58, 123-124, 131, 132 definitional/truth-conditional 3, 5, 14, 15, 37, naturalist/empiricist/realist 4, 5, 14, 15, 17, 123 phenomenological 12, 58 postmodern 6, 123 poststructuralist 6, 123 psychoanalytic 5, 123 relativist 4, 123 semiotic (Peircean) 4, 123 structuralist 5, 14, 123 sense 1, 5, 6, 15, 18

senses 1, 12, 15, 17, 24, 28, 31, 35, 37, 38, 53, 70, 76, 78, 82, 84, 85, 88-90, 92, 95, 97, 101, 110, 113, 115, 126, 129,130 sight (visual dominance) 1, 12, 15, 17, 24, 28, 31, 35, 37, 38, 53, 70, 76, 78, 82, 84, 85, 88-90, 92, 95, 97, 101, 110, 113, 115, 126, 129, 130 smell 15, 56, 58, 126 touch 38 see also body, nonverbal communication and perception sexuality 13, 35, 36, 54, 58, 59, 104-105, 107, 109, 111-114, 118-122, 127-129, 131 African Ashanti 114, 128 harimtu (single women) 105 incest taboo 107, 109, 119, 121, 122, 127, 128, 129 Islam 111, 112-114, 118, 119, 121, 128, 129 potency rituals and magic 54, 105, 119, 120, 129, 131 prohibited premarital sex/virginity 107, 109, 118, 119, 121, 122, 127-129 third sex (eunuchs, transsexuals, etc.) 105, 109, 121 women 35, 36, 58, 59, 104-105, 109, 118-122, 127-129, 131 Shanks, M. 7 Shemshara 44, 45 signifieds 3, 5-7, 14-17, 124, 127, 130 signifiers 2, 3, 5-7, 14-18, 16, 123, 124, 130-132 Sigrist, M. 106 Sippar 3, 9, 23, 25, 26, 33, 41, 47, 49-51, 52, 57, 94, 103, 106, 126 Skaist, A. 103, 104 skifa 114, 114, 121 slaves 4, 11, 26, 28, 36, 55, 57, 66, 73, 74, 75,79, 80, 83, 84, 85, 87, 88, 92, 93, 105-108,113, 119, 124, 126, 127, 129 Small, D.B. 113, 117 social psychology 1, 3, 20, 23-24, 28, 31, 35, 64, 70, 76, 78, 80, 82, 85, 90, 95, 97, 101, 114, 124, 127, 129-131 attitudes 1, 3, 10, 23-25, 36, 78, 110, 124, 129-131 see also environmental psychology and nonverbal communication sociology 1, 7, 8, 10, 11, 20, 23, 25, 36, 37, 44, 62, 64, 66, 67, 69, 75, 78, 80, 82, 85, 89, 94, 97, 102, 107, 111, 126, 129-131 Sommer, R. 24, 95, 101 Starr, R.F.S. 42, 45 Steinkeller, P. 106 Sterelny, K. 5, 123 Stevenson, M.G. 25 Stone, E.C. 8-10, 22-23, 22, 60, 62, 64, 66, 85, 88, 89 structuralism 2, 5-7, 12, 14, 23, 36, 54, 57, 105, 129, 130 sufficient semiosis (Ruthrof ‘s) 3, 37, 38, 41, 46, 53, 54, 103, 121, 124 Susa 103 Sweetser, E. 38 Sweyhat 45

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INDEX symbolic meaning 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 13, 14, 18, 24, 26, 28, 36, 38, 45, 46, 49, 51, 53, 54, 56, 57-59, 62, 65, 67, 68, 73, 75, 76, 87, 89, 93, 94, 96, 100, 102, 107-109, 121-125, 125, 126, 127, 129-131 nonverbal 8, 13, 24, 26, 28, 36, 45, 49, 54, 57, 58, 75, 76, 89, 102, 109, 121, 123-125, 125, 127, 129-131 verbal 1, 3, 6, 13, 14, 18, 38, 46, 51, 53, 54, 56, 57-59, 62, 65, 67, 68, 73, 87, 89, 93, 94, 96, 100, 102, 107-109, 122-127, 125, 129-131 Syria 42, 44, 45, 112, 116, 117 tablets 1-4, 7-12, 14, 15, 18, 20, 22, 23, 27, 28, 37, 38, 41, 46, 47-49, 47, 48, 50, 51, 54, 57-62, 61, 64-70, 65, 68, 73, 74-85, 77, 79, 81, 83, 87, 88-97, 91, 93, 96, 100, 101-111, 117-120, 122, 124-131 administrative 3, 11, 76, 78, 80, 83, 84, 85, 106-108, 126 dowries 7, 10, 46, 73, 79, 80, 92, 93, 103-109, 118, 119, 127, 128 inheritance 3, 4, 7, 9, 10, 46, 47, 49-51, 59, 60, 62, 66, 70, 73, 75-78, 77, 83, 84, 85, 87, 88-90, 92-95, 93, 97, 103-105, 118-119 lawsuits 79, 80, 87, 88, 90-92, 91, 127 lexical 15, 105 literary 15, 54, 79, 80, 83, 84, 103-105, 107, 127, 128, 131 loans 7, 60, 61, 67, 68, 70, 73, 74, 81, 82, 83, 84, 90, 91, 93, 95-97, 96, 100, 101 mathematical 3, 46, 47-49, 47, 48, 84, 124-125, 125 purchases 10, 49, 50, 62-64, 63, 73, 74, 75, 77, 79, 80, 83, 84, 87, 90-94, 91, 93, 100, 101, 102, 106 rentals 3, 7, 11, 46, 49, 60-62, 61, 64,73, 74, 78, 81, 82, 90, 91, 93, 106 sales 3, 7, 8, 11, 46, 60-64, 61, 63, 73, 78, 79, 83, 84, 88, 93, 94, 100, 101, 106 school exercises 23, 39, 41, 49, 60-62, 61, 63, 64-66, 65, 76, 77, 79, 80, 83, 84, 85 see also archives and school Tarski, A. 38 Tell Arad 43 Tell Asmar 29, 30, 31, 32, 34, 35, 39, 41, 126, 127 see also Ešnunna Tell Bdēri 43, 44 Tell Kannâs 45 Tell Melebiya 43, 44 Tello 39, 40, 42 temple 8-11, 21, 22, 45, 47, 53, 56, 58, 60-69, 61, 63, 65, 68, 73, 74-80, 77, 79, 82-85, 83, 87, 88, 89, 92, 93, 101, 103, 105, 106, 123, 126, 127 textiles 27-28, 66, 92, 100, 101, 106, 108, 109, 124 Tilley, C. 7 towers 44, 45, 50 Turner, M. 2, 16

Umma 39, 40, 42, 48 Ur 1, 3, 10, 11, 20-22, 21, 23, 25, 26, 29, 30, 31, 32-34, 35, 36, 40, 41, 45-51, 47, 48, 52, 57, 66, 67, 68, 70, 71-73, 76, 77, 78-85, 79, 81, 83, 88, 90-101, 91, 93, 96, 98-100, 103, 104, 106, 107, 112, 119, 120, 126, 127, 129 AH site 3, 10, 21-22, 21, 26, 29, 33, 34, 41, 49, 50, 57, 66-70, 68, 71-73, 80-84, 81, 83, 90-100, 91, 93, 96, 98-100, 104, 106, 119, 120, 127, 129 EH site 45, 57 EM site 3, 11, 21-22, 21, 30, 32, 40, 48, 49, 50, 57, 76-80, 77, 79, 85 MS site 57 Ur III period 4, 9-11, 34, 39, 40, 42, 48, 49, 84, 103, 106, 126 Van de Mieroop, M. 11, 67, 70 Van der Toorn, K. 54, 103 Veenhof, K.R. 106 verbal communication 1-4, 5-6, 7-12, 14-19, 37-38, 46-59, 60-102, 103-110, 111-114, 118-122, 123-130 application to the archaeological record 7, 18-19, 46-59, 60-102, 107-110, 118-122, 124-130 in corporeal semantics 14-18, 37-38, 46-59, 60-102, 107-110, 118-122, 123-124, 129-130 in ethnography 111-114, 118-122, 128-129 in legal texts 103-107, 118-122, 125, 127-128 in Mesopotamian archaeology 7-12, 123 Vico, G. 3, 14-15, 123 Warad-Sin 70, 74, 78 Watson, P.J. 10, 112, 116 Wattenmaker, P. 13 Westbrook, R. 103 Wittgenstein, L. 2, 16, 123, Woolley, L. 10, 11, 20-22, 21, 26, 36, 46, 48, 55, 56, 58, 84, 112 women 4, 10, 11, 13, 27-28, 27, 35-36, 54, 55, 64, 66, 67, 69, 74, 75, 84, 92, 101, 103-110, 112-122, 114-117, 124, 126-129 and space 35-36, 64, 69, 75, 107-110, 114-122, 114-117, 126-129 Ashanti 114, 117, 118, 120 Assyrian 105-106 Babylonian 27-28, 27, 66, 67, 69, 74, 75, 84, 95, 101, 104-109, 117, 119-121, 124, 126, 127-129 Islamic 106, 111-122, 114-116, 128-129 of the palace 106-107 outside the patrilinear household 74, 105, 109, 110, 121, 128 representation 27, 36, 54, 59, 119, 129, 130 seclusion 113, 115, 117, 119, 120-122, 128, 129 see also female activities and purdah Yates, T. 7 Yoffee N. 9 Zettler, R.L. 9, 11 Ziadeh, N.A. 113

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