ABACUS magazine - vol 3 issue 1 - 2016

A B Am C U S agazine WINTER 2016 VOL. 3 ISSUE 1

E d i t o r s : M e g Wa l k e r & G r a c e M i l l e r Illustrators: Janet Dawson

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Another semester has passed and thus it is time for another edition of the ABACUS magazine. This year ABACUS hopes to start the long process of establishing both an online presence and a well established magazine that exhibits the work of the students at the Australian National University (ANU). We aim to create a streamlined look to the magazine that presents the work simply, efficiently, and effectively. It is the hope that over time, this magazine will represent a strong collection of work from the schools of archaeology, biological anthropology, anthropology, and cultural heritage. Therefore, creating a space that encourages multi-discipline collaboration. Additionally, we aim to exhibit work from both the undergraduate and postgraduate faculties to establishing a stronger relationship between the two groups. By creating this space, we hope to allow students to gain a better understanding about the work that takes places at the University and therefore encourage people to participate with the broader community.

outside the University. Opportunities are available in all places you look, but it is whether you choose to take them that counts. Help out on a project, go on a field school, and go to the conference that you may be anxious about attending. Without participating and taking the opportunities available to you, you cannot gain the experience needed to continue your studies in the field of your choice. Participation will always give you more than you expect.

Unfortunately, this edition of the ABACUS magazine has not exhibited as many pieces from the Cultural Heritage discipline as we would have liked. We aim to rectify this situation in the next edition and would like to encourage people to continuously submit their pieces throughout the semester. Heritage is an important part to the whole and over time we would like to establish a stronger representation of the heritage work that is undertaken at the ANU. Nonetheless, this edition will hopefully lay the foundation This edition of the magazine primarily exhibits the work needed to evolve the magazine into a streamlined and more undertaken over the past semester. This work includes academic magazine in the future. essays from each discipline, field school reports, and student experiences. Each write up of the field schools Lastly, I would like to aknowledge Janet Dawson for reflects the experience of an individual student. By doing so, providing a number of illustrations to this issue of the we aim to give others a better understanding of the courses magazine. to help provide a well formed decision when applying to the next season of field schools. Furthermore, the student I look forward to the sharing developments generated in the experiences hope to give others the inspiration to push the upcoming semester. limits of their degree. It is our belief within the ABACUS Many thanks, executive to encourage student participation within and Meg Walker Publications Officer

2016 COMMITTEE President - Melandri Vlok Vice President - Emilly Miller Secretary - Rebecca Banks Treasurer - Marni Booth Publication Officer - Meg Walker First Year Representative - Alex Wuff Post-Graduate Representative - Ben Gleeson General Representatives - Glenn van der Kolk & Sean Sheehan

Image: ‘Meg’ - JD

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CONTENTS F i e l d Sc h o o l s & E x pe rie n c es 1 1 | C U LT U R A L 7 | ARCH2055 H E R I TAG E Th e A rc h a e o l o g i c a l L e a rd S t a t e Fo re s t Field School: Tr i a b u n n a B a r r a c k s 13 | ARCH M a n c h e s t e r U n i ve r 9 | ANTH sity - Cyprus Field Anthropolog y on 4 | ARCH2059 S c h o o l Ju n e 2 8 – E xc h a n ge International Ju l y 2 5 2 0 1 5 A rc h a e o l o g i c a l 1 0 | S PA FA Field School: International ConCatanauan, f e re n c e s f o r Philippines Dummies: …also k n ow n a s 6 | A R C H Th e ‘Confessions of Philippines Field P re t e n d i n g t o P l a y School, Sitio Buhangan, Barngay It Cool’ Tu h i a n , C a t a n a u a n , Q u e s o n , Th e Philippines 30| ARCH2056 15 | ANTH2132 Britons and A n o rex i a t h r o u g h a n a n t h r o p o l o g i c a l Ro m a n s : A rc h a e o l o g y o f t h e l e n s e : Th e l i ve d We s t e r n Ro m a n ex p e r i e n c e E m p i re 20 | BIAN3113 37| ARCH2005 H u m a n E vo l u t i o n Lapita Burial Practices: A Case 26| BIAN6120 S t u dy Cultural solutions to biological prob41| HUMN2000 l e m s : E vo l u t i o n , H e r i t a ge a n d j e a l o u s y, a n d i n t i Museum mate par tner vioStudies lence 3 | BIAN3018 P r i m a t e B e h av i o u r and Ecolog y Field School in Cambodia

Es says

I m a g e : ‘ Ye l l o w - c h e e k e d G i b b o n s ’ - J D WINTER 2016 | 2

FIELD SCHOOLS BIAN3018 P r i m a t e B e h av i o u r a n d E c o l o g y Field School in Cambodia

By Grace Miller Between January and February of this year, myself, ten other students, and one PhD student went on the Primate Field School in Cambodia. The course aimed to provide students with a hands on experience of behavioural and ecological data collection. It tested students’ application of literature in the field as well as providing an up close look at conservation issues, both general and South East Asian specific. The two primary study species of the course are the Northern Yellow-cheeked gibbons (Nomascus annamensis) and the Silvered langurs (Trachypithecus germaini), both of which are threatened with extinction. Yet, other primate species do live in the study site and there is a chance that they may be spotted too. Our group were particularly lucky and had a pig-tailed macaque (Macaca leonina) visit from time to time. He (trust me when I say it was very easy to tell his sex), enjoyed a set of trees behind the toilets and generator at our camp. The experience gained on this field school gives students a hands-on insight in the world of wild animal field research.

The

field

I m a g e : ‘ S i l v e re d L a n g u re ’ - J D

took place at the Veun Sai-Siem Pang Conservation Area (VSSPCA), in Cambodia. The site has wooden huts for students and tourists to stay in, a river to cool off in, limited

many others. It is a price that felt very worth it (after the first hotel shower that is), as the learning experience was unmatched by any other courses offered at the ANU.

‘ Th e ex p e r i e n c e g a i n e d o n t h i s f i e l d s c h o o l g i ve s s t u d e n t s a h a n d s - o n insight in the world of animal field re s e a rc h ’

electricity, little to no phone signal, and is a 45-minute motor bike ride away from the nearest town. Discomfort and disconnection from the outside world was a daily school challenge for myself and

spiny, spiky forest, on a very hot day in search of our research species with no success. There were data collection sessions where we would be watching an individual and as soon as it came time to record an action, they would disappear (it’s as if they knew!). There was no doubt among us that collecting data on species that were so at home, high above us, was a real pain in the neck; figuratively and literally. Yet, when we were able to catch up with the gibbon group, or spot a langur, the excitement was ill-contained. While it was difficult, and at times frustrating, collecting data on wild animals was a gratifying accomplishment.

Even students that had no intention of any further animal studies after this course agreed that it was a worthwhile, once in a life time experience. I would recommend this course to any student that can handle confronting challenges and is interested in conservation, ecology or animal behaviour.

The primary thing that students learnt on this field school was that field work is rewarding but challenging. There were days when we would spend 2-4 hours trekking through a WINTER 2016 | 3

FIELD SCHOOLS ARCH2059 International A rc h a e o l o g i c a l F i e l d S c h o o l : Catanauan, Philippines

By David O’Brien

The Philippines archaeological field school that runs each year at ANU is an experience not to be missed. Based in the Municipality of Catanauan, the Catanauan Archaeological and Heritage Project (CAPH) is a joint collaboration between the Australian National University (ANU) and the University of the Philippines (UP). Included in the field school is a real ‘Jar Burial’ site, with real shells, beads, skeletons and other finds. It was my first year going to the Philippines field school in the 2016 season and during this time I was taught the essence of Archaeology and in particular Philippine Archaeology. Within this

season I was taught how to excavate a Jar Burial (including skeletal remains), that shells are important, and how to think like an archaeologist. Most of all, I made friends that I will keep contact with for years to come.

The Philippines field school is an experience not to be missed. It contributes to 6 units, and the experience and friends gained will help you for years to come. Not only will you be able to excavate an amazing site, you will experience the fire fly tree, bioluminescence plankton, beach time antics, and hanging out with amazing people who have amazing experiences.

P h o t o : S i m o n Te n n e r

THE REASONS THAT I ENJOYED THE FIELD SCHOOL The Catanauan site is a continuing site, with site reports available from each season of excavation. So it is easy to learn about what has occurred at the site and what the aims of the excavations are. This is also discussed whilst on the site.

Merienda (morning and afternoon tea) is ideal with salabat, calamansi juice, tea, coffee, and strange but oddly delicious condiments for bread and biscuits. If you’re lucky, the ice-cream man might pay you a visit. Merienda is perfect when you need a brake from the trenches.

The locals enjoy you being there. They are there to help and you're there to help them learn more about their history. They also have the awesome Sari Sari store that holds all the sweets and soft drinks needed whilst on the excavation.

The Philippino students are also interested in the site and are willing to help you communicate with the locals. Both ANU and UP students are there to learn from the field school and from

each other. By learning and working together you develop strong and lasting friendships.

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FIELD SCHOOLS THINGS TO KNOW The Philippines field school is one of the cheapest overseas field schools run by the ANU. Costs of the field school and flights are relatively cheap in comparison to other overseas field schools. Spending money isn’t too harsh on the bank account as the currency exchange is usually quite fair.

If you have any questions, ask. Those that have experience with the field school are all enthusiastic and willing to answer questions about the site, the field school, or what to bring to help you sleep.

Taking over vitamins tablets or fruit and veg tablets helps as the food served is freshly sourced and not everyone will stay energetic if you are picky. Don’t forget to drink water every day. You also have the chance to bring food/snacks from Manilla to help out with cravings. If you have allergies, you will be accommodated.

Spend time working in your journal whilst excavating and at night time. It is the easiest time to remember what happened that day if you do your write up as you go or at the end of that day. It only takes a few minutes and will help you in the long run.

If you are doing the extension course, take notes on what will be needed for the assignment pieces (Ask Dr. Marc Oxenham regarding this). You will then have the information and don’t have to rely on others for raw data (But grouping up to figure out what the data means is also easy).

P h o t o : S i m o n Te n n e r

Image:‘Catanauan Decorated Pottery’ - Yo l a n d i S w a r t

‘ S U P E RV I S I N G I S H A R D W O R K ’ - J D WINTER 2016 | 5

FIELD SCHOOLS ARCH Th e P h i l i p p i n e s F i e l d School, Sitio Buhangan, B a r n g a y Tu h i a n , C a t a n a u a n , Q u e s o n , Th e Philippines

By Christine Cave There was movement round the uni for the posters round about Spruiked a field school running in the Philippines With the chance of digging skellies, potsies, shellies too no doubt, Twas the stuff that fuels a bian person’s dreams.

Led by Oxenham who made his marc a’digging Viet Nam A big man with his hair of red and grey He could analyse a lesion, age a newborn, dig up Ma’am And sit chatting long to Victor all the day.

The Filipino leader was Professor Victor Paz Beneficent dictator du field An archaobotanister with some fancy fold-up chairs And a plan to keep the Mayor’s ok sealed Season one in oh eight was planned to be the only one Where the treasure hunters excavated bones In their search for Japan’s gold bars left a’buried ‘fore they’d run But burial jars were lifted neath the stones.

Jars for Amy and Amergin plus both Jessica and Jess Elizabeth, Lucille and also Lee Tim was very quiet and Alyce a ghostly guest And Heidi did her Honours hon’rably.

There were Filipino students who had come to join the fray Like Bea who was the love interest of Tim And Thea’s toe was broken but Clarissa had her say And Deyya dear and Sigrid scrambled in.

And we dug up Lucille’s baby plus the coral slabs SM That covered many skellies put in jars.

By season three we’d SMs up to SM number six And Victor’s super sat’llite bamboo cam We dug at Campo Santo after clearing it with sticks And found extended skelly in deep sand.

Season four we’ve come to know as Catanauan’s Doom First the Mayor refused to let us dig So we hunted Mulanay for plan Bees in our gloom And saw their limestone coffins on a gig.

And plagues of microbes caught us and the sickness settled in And archaeologists did drop like flies Marc was grimly retching and the students getting thin But from deepness does the human spirit rise.

That first extended burial was in the deepest pit And Hannah was converted to the cause And Don the landscape lover joined us with his kit Some good news come to even up the scores.

Season five began with Victor’s anniversary do And the fun continued at the Napa site SM1 was fading but Locale 4 was new Dead Declan’s toes ensured the future bright.

In 2014 season six began its skelly show As an icy chill hit the Philippines And an artefact unusual that we called Rosetta stone Found by Jess – report’s cover has its scenes The seventh season in Fifteen saw Locality Four rise But a rival to the first still not quite yet But just beneath the surface many shattered jars the prize Despite days off waiting out a cyclone threat.

Season eight was under way in Janu’ry sixteen Brought some extra special moments near the end Our dates were pushed aback to AD a hundred ten Carbon fourteen dates of a science bend.

And one was there, and oldster with a pair of dodgy knees And a fear of squatting toilets to be sure But a queen of karaoke though a newby overseas Soon to write in verse the Catanauan lore.

The jars were full of skellies, some of women some of men One for nearly every student in the pool They took a bit of emptying, primary, secondary, then We covered them to wait another school.

Season two was scheduled for the start of twenty ten And more newbies joined a group of last year’s stars.

Image: JD WINTER 2016 | 6

FIELD SCHOOLS And just before we got that news another special find Was dug by Meggy from a disturbed jar The chicken chick we called it – carved on bone-sun chick designed A decorative knife handle – next year’s cover star.

There’s San Miguel and Red Horse to quell the digger’s thirst There’s a beach of sand a salty salty sea There’s fishes freshly catched pork and chicken to make you burst And vegetarian dishes vegily.

There’ll be movement round the uni if the posters are around To advertise another school next year Do you want to come and join us, to dig the sandy ground For skellies put in jars as well as beer?

There’ll be digging sandy matrices and differecing between The sort of sandy silt or silty sand There’ll be mapping and recording and a lecture to be seen Nightly from the profs and student’s hands.

ARCH2055 A rc h a e o l o g i c a l F i e l d S c h o o l : Tr i a b u n n a B a r r a c k s

By Glenn van der Kolk The Australian National University (ANU) was engaged by the property owners (our host) of 3 Charles Street, Triabunna, Tasmania (the site), to undertake an archaeological investigation of the site which included two historic buildings commonly known as ‘the barracks’. The investigation and subsequent report will be used in a development application by our host to develop the site which is currently undergoing restoration.

The archaeological survey consisted of non-intrusive building and geophysical surveys, as well as three test trench excavations which were undertaken in order to map existing buildings, determine the locations of potential subterranean archaeology and the condition of the artefacts respectively. The archaeological activity was undertaken from 18Jan16 to 4Feb16 by a team of four supervising ANU staff and a mix of approximately 20 graduate and undergraduate

students from ANU and USyd. The activity was operated as a field school and thus earned 6 UOC for those who successfully completed the coursework for ARCH2055. The course is structured such that students can gain tuition and experience in project planning and execution, field activities (surveying, recording, excavating etc), finds processing, mentoring and community engagement.

These competencies were assessed and formed one element of the assessment

package which also included group participation assessment, field diary assessment and a field report.

The participants travelled by vehicle to Melbourne to catch the Spirit of Tasmania ferry and then by vehicle to Triabunna. We camped at the nearby sports oval and had access to the amenities of the sports club rooms.

were

Excellent prepared

dinners by the

Photo: Ash Lenton WINTER 2016 | 7

FIELD SCHOOLS volunteer caterers of the local AFL club. This all made for a very comfortable field experience‌ oh, except for the storm midway through the dig which flooded both camp and dig sites and put much of Triabunna underwater.

suggested that there were several buildings built on the site at different times of which, only the barracks remain.

which are yet to be investigated include a water well and several mounds of building rubble. There is still much to learn about the site and students of future seasons can look forward to interesting and exciting excavations.

I thoroughly enjoyed the activity.

I specifically enjoyed piecing the historical puzzle of the barracks together through research, reviewing community held data and conducting the archaeological investigation.

I highly recommend this course to future archaeological students.

The site is located on a major thoroughfare through Triabunna and thus gained a lot of interest and visits by local community members and tourists. The community was very supportive of the dig and many came to either volunteer at the site or just have a nosey around the finds baskets. The site facilitated sharing of stories between residents and members of the excavation and it was amazing to see the amount of historical data that For more information go to was held within the Triabunna Barracks ANU-USyd Dig on community.

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The field work also included day trips to local attractions such as Maria Island, Port Arthur, Hobart and local Indigenous and historical sites which aided in contextualising the dig site with local, historical activities. The artefacts found on the site provided insight as to the activities being conducted at the site over time. Artefact finds included a significant amount of broken bottle glass, building construction material and personal items This was the first such as toys, smoking pipe season of about three which fragments and buttons. The are planned for the site. subterranean archaeology Other features on the site

Image: JD F ro m To p t o B o t t o m : 1. Finds buckets | 2.Pottery fragmet - 'while despai...' | 3.Clay tobacco pipe fragments | 4.Drilled head of a bone toothbrush - 19th century | 5.Hand-made pearl shell button WINTER 2016 | 8

EXPERIENCES ANTH A n t h r o p o l o g y o n E xc h a n ge

By Linda Ma

So you’re an anthropology undergrad and you’re looking to extend your experiences by undertaking a semester on exchange. I’m writing to you halfway through my own exchange at the University of Hong Kong with a few tips and pieces of advice on how to make the most out of your time abroad if you’re looking to get more out of exchange than a higher alcohol tolerance and some dimly-remembered regrets.

Firstly, as a student of culture living in a foreign country, embrace the country and culture that you are living in and take every opportunity to fully immerse yourself in it. Far be it from me to advocate neglecting your studies, but if they come into conflict with your ability to get the most culturally out of your time away, understand that they are of secondary importance.

Exchange (for most students) is on a pass or fail basis. Make the most of that to travel as widely as possible, to join clubs at university or in the community, and to meet as many interesting people as possible. You’ve got some more academic freedom, so try some subjects that are a bit

left-of-field that you wouldn’t normally study at home, whether that’s philosophy, Chinese, or biology.

Second, network, network, network. Unlike more occupation-oriented degrees, it isn’t second-nature for many anthropology students to network. But exchange represents a great

where you can meet the speaker afterwards and learn from academics in the field.

Find out when conferences are on: they’re usually free to attend and welcome students who come to listen and learn, and best of all for a student budget, are catered quite well! Ask lecturers that you know at home if they can help introduce you to some-

PhD students who have become friends and people to bounce ideas off. Attend academic lectures at your host university. Never (within reason!) say no to an invitation or an event, as it could be a fruitful opportunity to learn.

I have learnt that networking, for an anthropology student, means more than just cosying up to the rich and influential. It means learning and sharing with others, whether that be domestic workers, people living hand-to-mouth in subdivided flats in Sham Shui Po, to finance executives and anthropology lecturers. It means coming with a genuine humility and willingness to learn as well P h o t o : L i n d a M a as an idea that both parties opportunity to meet people one based at your host can gain some benefit out of who share your academic university or in the area. I’ve the interaction. interests. In Hong Kong, I found a wonderful academic Third, don’t be have taken every opportunity mentor at HKU who has not to meet people. The Hong only gone out of her way to afraid to undertake a bit of Kong Anthropological Soci- assist me to settle in, but who informal ‘research’. The ety hosts talks monthly has introduced me to several University’s ethics committee might take issue with me saying this, but if you’re an ‘ I h ave l e a r n t t h a t n e t w o r k i n g ( . . . ) undergraduate, there’s no m e a n s c o m i n g w i t h a ge n u i n e h u m i l - better place to begin to learn i t y a n d w i l l i n g n e s s t o l e a r n a s w e l l (and fail!) about how to as an idea that both par ties can conduct anthropological g a i n s o m e b e n e f i t o u t o f t h e i n t e r - fieldwork. No doubt you’ll action.’ be curious about something or another in your host WINTER 2016 | 9

EXPERIENCES location. Why not start to interview your fellow students, or even people you meet on the street, on an informal basis? It may not be something you can submit, but it’ll be a great way to learn.

If you have the opportunity, too, see if you can land a position as a research assistant or intern

alongside your studies. It doesn’t have to align specifically with your research interests. By sheer luck I was lucky enough to know someone who worked in a research team for a sociology professor at HKU who needed some assistance for a research project. It wasn’t my field at all (comparative fashion) but I’ve learnt a lot

so far about how to work in a research team, and some of what academic life is really like. Hint: a lot of the work can be pretty dull, but there are moments that make it worth it!

professional advancement out of it. But if you want to, it can be a fantastic learning experience both personally and academically. Plan what you want out of exchange.

Exchange can be a great experience in many different ways, and you don’t necessarily need to get any

S PA FA I n t e r n a t i o n a l C o n f e re n c e s : f o r D u m m i e s … a l s o k n ow n a s ‘ C o n f e s s i o n s o f P re t e n d i n g t o P l a y I t C o o l ’ .

By Melandri Vlok So you think you want to attend an international conference? You have somehow managed to magically acquire funding or dish out the aircraft, accommodation and conference fees out of your own back pocket. As an honours or master’s student, chances it has been the latter. Given the steep costs involved, doubt as to whether it is worth it remains. You decide to go anyway. Soon you find yourself on an airplane bound for a holiday destination, and for every nerd goer out there, this is exactly what it is; an academic holiday, maybe.

You don’t, know. You’ve never been to a conference before. Cue me. It’s June.

I’m going Thailand...

The 2nd SEAMEO SPAFA International Conference on Southeast Asian Archaeology provided five straight days of conference presentations and outings. In total seven presenters from the Australian National University attended [Marc Oxenham, Charlotte Galloway, Chao Huang, Rebecca Jones, Melandri Vlok, Jennifer Hull, and Tse Siang Lim].

It would be the first time that a bioarchaeology panel was available. Hosted by Dr. Marc Oxenham and Dr. Sîan Halcrow, the panel provided a comprehensive overview of the current research in Southeast Asian bioarchaeology. I was part of it. Day one.

I’m shaking in my boots. I’m up. There’s no more practic-

ing now. Everyone else who has presented appeared effortless. Refined. Oh god.

My name is called. I stand up, resolved to appear to have prepared critical work, without appearing too eager

like I’ve been practicing for days… no, weeks.

I’m presenting, words come out of my mouth, but I cannot hear myself. Am I rambling? I don’t know. People are smil-

‘ I t w a s n’ t t h e p re s e n t a t i o n t h a t made it wor th it (...) it was the d i s c u s s i o n w i t h o t h e r s w h o s h a re t h e s a m e i n t e re s t s a n d p a s s i o n s a s I do, after the fact’

Photo: Melandri Vlok WINTER 2016 | 10

EXPERIENCES

Photo: Melandri Vlok

ing at me. That must be a good sign! I’ve made it to the last paragraph of my speech.

I’m done. It’s over. I breathe.

I know that I tripped over some of my words. I know it’s not the most confident performance. But that’s just it. The ice breaker. Great, I want another round. Let’s do this again!

I did what I have came here to do. But here’s the thing. The reason I write now to urge all to take that leap whenever they have a chance. It wasn’t the presentation that made it worth it (although it played a large

role), it was the discussion with others who share the same interests and passions as I do, after the fact. I made friends. I made connections.

I received support and engaged in discussion about my research with others who were as keen about my research as I was. It allowed me to step out of the bubble of thesis writing, and more importantly, allowed me look above the horizon. I’m driven to see what is next after my honours. I’m passionate about being a part of a large movement towards the advancement of archaeology in South East Asia.

Photo: Melandri Vlok

The conference ended with excursions to archaeology sites in Thailand, and attending these with other experts generated a remarkable level of thought and insight for all involved.

Like a bus load of children let loose at Disneyland, we were privileged to jump into the trenches and pretty soon we were all enlightening each other on bones, stones and all things earthenware.

Of course this opportunity is not always available at conferences, but the downtime with other academics are valuable.

In short, it’s scary.

It’s new. It’s worth it. The hardest thing is consolidating the fact that overseas trips are expensive for students. It was advised to me to annually put a sum aside to attend conferences.

Even if you put in a few dollars at a time into a jar.

Make yourself known to the outside world. Let your research have a voice… {see the link for an overview of the panel by Dr. Halcrow: https://childhoodbioarchaeo logy.org/2016/06/02/recent-s outh-east-asian-bioarchaeol ogical-research-showcased}

C U LT U R A L H E R I TAG E Th e L e a rd S t a t e Fo re s t

By Eleanor Lawless The Leard State forest covers 80,000 hectares and is located in-between the towns of Narrabri to the north and Boggabri to the south, north-west New South Wales. The forest is highly rich in biodiversity being habitat to thirty-four threatened and endangered native species. 3,421 hectares is comprised of rare, critically endangered ancient White

Box-Gum woodland, the most extensive and intact area remaining on the Australian continent.

The Leard State Forest has been home to the Gomeroi people, the traditional custodians of the land, for more than fifty thousand years. As a result, the forest encompasses thirty-eight ancient spiritual Aboriginal

P h o t o : ‘ A e r i a l o f L e a rd S t a t e F o re s t a n d s u r ro u n d s ’ - F ro n t L i n e A c t i o n WINTER 2016 | 11

EXPERIENCES

P h o t o : ‘ L e a rd S t a t e F o re s t ’ - F ro n t L i n e A c t i o n

cultural sites. These include sites of burial, rock art, ritual, and ceremony. Thus encompassing both tangible and intangible forms of cultural heritage. For example, a highly important site within the forest is Lawlers Well an ancient burial site and ongoing site of cultural practice. Therefore, this place is highly significant to the Gomeroi people. The site of Lawlers Well includes a unique water hole in the forest which has been used for ceremonial purposes as it has links to and from the dreamtime, navigation stories of the day and night sky, seasonality, and the male initiation ceremony bora. These relationships all contribute to the sites crucial importance to Gomeroi traditional heritage and continuing practices.

December of that year. This mine will cause the complete destruction of the forest including the heritage sites of cultural significance to the Gomeroi people. The forest is critical to the ongoing practices of the Gomeroi people as it contributes to the spiritual identity and belief systems of this cultural group. Thus, this desecration of sacred sites of spiritual and cultural heritage significance will have devastating impacts. Damage to and destruction of heritage sites greatly effects the wellbeing of the Aboriginal people as well as the wider national and international community. These groups benefit from the protection and longevity of cultural heritage for spiritual, educational, and commemorative purposes as well as fostering a sense of identity and belongOpen cut coal ing. Once the sites are gone, mining has been under oper- they are gone forever. ation in the Leard State Forest by Whitehaven Coal Note: No images of sacred since early 2012 with the sites are available opening of Boggabri coal mine. The Maules Creek coal mine was proposed in 2014 and began operating in

P h o t o : ‘ A e r i a l o f L e a rd S t a t e F o re s t a n d s u r ro u n d s ’ - F ro n t L i n e A c t i o n

P h o t o : ‘ S i g n i n g P ro t e c t i o n A g re e m e n t ’ - F ro n t L i n e A c t i o n

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EXPERIENCES ARCH M a n c h e s t e r U n i ve r s i t y - C y p r u s F i e l d S c h o o l Ju n e 2 8 – Ju l y 2 5 2015

By Emily Miller & Emma Biggs As Facebook is so kindly reminding us, it has been a year since we ventured to Cyprus to learn how to dig holes in the ground. We were expecting hard work and hot weather, and we were hoping for an adventure. We definitely got all of the above.

We first discovered that the way to beat jet lag was to spend a week and half exploring England before the dig. For anyone wondering, yes, the British Museum is one of the best places to spend a day in London, but beware the cafes nearby, not only will they overcharge you for tea but you will wonder if you’re about to be murdered by the owner, or

well as the strength of the ously were staying in a 5 star Cypriot sun (for the record – resort with Egyptian cotton Much of the jet lag Emily can impersonate a sheets and room service…. recovery was ruined by our lobster in about 30mins).

We knew coming flight to Cyprus landing in The Field school into the dig that we were Larnaca, one of Cyprus’ larger towns, at 4am, and the was based in the village of sleeping in a school and that about 10 we would be starting work at multiple buses we caught to Kissonerga, get to the other end of minutes’ drive from Paphos, 5.30am six mornings of the Cyprus, where Paphos is which is still far enough for a week. We packed sleeping located, a trip that took passport left in a taxi to be bags and bought travel around two hours (not highly concerning. Our early pillows at the airport. including the three hour wait arrival meant that we could Between these, our work in a dusty bus depot). We pick the best mattresses and boots, trowels, and some spent our first day on the our favourite piece of floor sunscreen we thought we island discovering the excel- to sleep on for the next four were set. Everyone else lency of Cypriot food, as weeks. To clarify, we obvi- turning up with full sheet sets and real pillows made us reconsider for about 5 minutes. It became clear ‘ Th e e n t i re s i t e w a s B r o n z e A ge, a l t h o u g h s i g n i f i c a n t l y l a c k i n g i n t h e very quickly, however, that it didn’t matter, as everyone b r o n z e d ep a r t m e n t ’ was too tired to care by the evening. €1 Beers certainly sold to unknown buyers.

Photo: Emily Miller WINTER 2016 | 13

EXPERIENCES helped the situation too.

And now for the interesting part: the dig. The dig itself was run by Dr. Lindy Crewe of Manchester University, who hails from Sydney, Australia. The site was an empty, terraced plot of land surrounded by banana plantations and holiday houses. Quite an idyllic spot, until it’s 35°C and you can’t access the swimming pools. One home owner generously allowed us to have our biscuit breaks in the shade provided by their garage door (and they say archaeology isn’t glamorous!). Ignoring the heat was fairly easy to do when we remembered that we were working on a site that had been a thriving village 4000 years earlier. The entire site was Bronze Age, although significantly lacking in the bronze department.

Dr Crewe has been directing digs on the site for 8 seasons already and the operation seemed to run smoothly.

Aside from digging in the ground and trying not to break all the pottery or mistake it for rocks, all students were involved in

cleaning and sorting finds from the site. The most concerning part was that we were all required to help cook lunch twice a week.

Feeding 30 people a new vegetarian meal 6 days a week was a challenge, but one that was met each and every day.

In between our schedule of site work, afternoon pottery cleaning sessions and many, many hours spent in the local pub, we also managed to visit some of the other archaeological sites Cyprus has to offer. We had a tour of a Chalcolithic village site, similar to but earlier than our site, which was also excavated by Dr. Crewe and her team as well as a visit to an ancient well cut into the bedrock using only antler tools. We also explored the Tomb of the Kings, a necropolis site in Paphos which is more than deserving of its grand name, as well as the beautiful Roman mosaics in Paphos’ Archaeological Park.

Photo: Emily Miller

Manchester University with a few exceptions from Canada, Ireland, and, of course, us Aussies. We had to learn to differentiate between the various British accents, and then convince everyone that we were actually from the same country as each other. A soccer match against another group of archaeologists (in 35°C heat) resulted in a win for us, mostly due to Emma’s goalie skills, and Dan (one of the PhD students) being an excellent goal scorer.

Four weeks in the sun obviously took its toll.

By the final week my trench had adopted a pet rock called Peblos, and started a game of The other students impersonating animals much on the dig were mostly from to the confusion of the rest of

Photo: Emily Miller

the crew. Unfortunately, recent news suggests that Peblos has forsaken his post as trench guardian and is now residing in an unknown location.

After a month in the sun we had learned multiple new skills, as well as improving on some we already had. We learnt to tell the difference between dirt and a 4000-year-old packed earth surface that are the same colour (the knowledge that you are standing on a surface that no one else has stood on for thousands of years is one of the coolest feelings ever, by the way), the best technique for using a pick axe (ask Emma for a demonstration, she gained a reputation for hers), and the most efficient way to clean ancient pottery (hint: it involves nail brushes and buckets of water). We also made a fantastic group of friends, some of who have returned to the dig this year.

Hopefully we can return next year for more fun and adventures and we highly encourage any of you to see about heading over for a great learning and life experience.

WINTER 2016 | 14

ANTHROPOLOGY

ANTH2132 A n o rex i a t h r o u g h a n a n t h r o pological lense: Th e l i ve d ex p e r i e n c e

By Emily Colonna

Po p u l a r u n d e r s t a n d i n g s o f a n o rex i a a n d a n o rex i c p r a c t i c e o f t e n c h a r a c t e r i s e a n o rex i a a s a d i e t go n e w r o n g , o r t h e p u r p o s e f u l e m u l a t i o n o f f a m o u s f i g u re s i n t h e f e m i n i n e q u e s t t o b e t h i n . C a n a n t h r o p o l o g i c a l a pp r o a c h e s reve a l m o re a b o u t a n o rex i c p r a c t i c e s , p u r p o s e s a n d i n t e n t i o n s ?

H ow a n d w h y m i g h t t h i s b e s o ?

Anorexia Nervosa has been defined by various disciplines and understood in many ways. It has been explained as an eating disorder in medical and psychological discourses with various symptoms and causes. Feminist scholars have explained anorexia as an issue of control against the cultural subordination of women (Warin, 2004). These discourses have influenced popular understandings of anorexia which have led to understanding the etiology of anorexia as triggered by media portrayal of the female body and the consequent dieting and emulation of these figures by young girls (Gooldin, 2008). These representations however, are too simplistic and they ignore the many complexities of anorexia and the experiences of those suffering from the disorder (Warin, 2004). As Gooldin (2008)

points out, “although we know quite a lot about anorexia, we know very little about anorexics” (pp. 278).

Anthropology is a discipline which is beneficial to furthering understanding of anorexia. Anthropology aims to disrupt taken for granted ideas and to uncover uncommon knowledge. As a discipline, anthropology is well placed to challenge popular ideas and shed light on new ways of understandings people (Monagham & Just, 2000, pp 145-146). Viewing anorexia through an anthropological lens allows for the expansion and complexification of understandings of anorexia.

Anthropology shifts understanding of anorexia beyond popular conceptions, and creates a wider, more comprehensive picture, focusing on the lived experience of people with anorexia. Through this picture of the everyday lives

of anorexic people, anthropology can further illuminate the purposes and intentions behind anorexic practices.

Ethnographic study also details how anorexic people negotiate their world and how they employ agency, creating a picture that is not constrained to understanding anorexic people as a passive victim of a disease. Finally, the greater understanding built in the anthropological study of anorexia will contribute to creating a better treatment process for anorexia. An analysis of some of the contributions anthropology has already made to the understanding of anorexia will support the argument of the disciplines value to the field.

Anthropology extends understanding beyond popular conceptions of anorexia created from the outside, and refocuses on the

lived experience of anorexia.

There is a wide range of fields which have tried to define and represent people with anorexia and, as such, there is a myriad of assumptions surrounding the disorder. One strand of thought that permeates these popular representations is the image of the anorexic body. People with anorexia are portrayed as a visual spectacle of thinness, horror, fascination and death (Warin, 2004). The anorexic body becomes a figure of abjection in the media and in popular feminist discourse (Ferreday, 2012). Focusing on the thinness of the anorexic body is a privileging of the visual and of the outsider’s gaze. It makes no attempt at understanding the lived experience of the person beyond the horror and pain represented by their emaciated bodies (Warin, 2004). Anorexic people become mere props WINTER 2016 | 15

ANTHROPOLOGY for theorising about society (Saukko, 2000). Academic attention has been directed towards understanding what the anorexic body means for the society that produced them (Ferreday, 2012). In using the anorexic body as a symbol, current discourses look through, rather than at, the anorexic as a whole person, detaching understanding from individual’s experiences and values (O’Connor & Van Esterik, 2008). In popular discourses the anorexic figure is defined as ‘other’ and is denied a voice. Anorexic people are silenced by being made into an object for outsiders to gaze at. Further, they are also silenced through medical and psychological discourses. As people suffering a mental disorder, their words are discounted as irrational and deluded (Ferrerday, 2012; Saukko, 2000).

The task of detangling these discourses, which marginalise the anorexic figure just as they try to understand it, can be achieved through a refocusing on the lived experiences of people with anorexia.

Paula Saukko (2000) addresses the issues of disentangling cultural discourses from the inner experiences of women with anorexia.

Cultural discourses undoubtedly affect all people, including people with anorexia, and so people are both acting subjects and acted-upon subjects (Saukko, 2000, pp.300). However, relying on cultural discourse solely, as discussed, relegates

anorexic people entirely to the acted-upon category.

Saukko suggests the resolution to this problem is to conduct a ‘quilting project’ in which individual women’s stories are articulated and stitched together in order to capture some sense of the complex and multifaceted nature of their experiences of anorexic people (Saukko, 2000, pp.303-304). In stitching these stories together, Saukko argues that it is possible to complicate understandings of the anorexic experience, as well

standing of anorexia in the es of anorexic people. lived experience.

Warin (2003) argues In building an that anorexic practices are understanding of how those not driven by the fear of with anorexia experience putting on weight, in the their everyday lives, anthro- effort to create a slimmer pology can further illuminate body.

Rather, anorexic the purposes and intentions people have a fear of behind anorexic practices. contamination. She illumiThe strong focus on body nates ways in which her image and dieting in popular informants thought, felt and discourses limits understand- dealt with food and how ing of how anorexic practic- certain foods were defiling es are initiated and by what or polluting. Warin discovbeliefs they are driven. ered that a different frameAnthropological research work was constructed has highlighted other major around foods by those with eating disorders. Jacinta, a 45-year-old woman who had I n u s i n g t h e a n o rex i c b o dy a s a suffered eating disorders s y m b o l , c u r re n t d i s c o u r s e s l o o k t h r o u g h , r a t h e r t h a n a t t h e a n o rex i c most of her adult life, explained that, for anorexic as a whole person people, there is a hierarchy of clean and dirty foods. as illuminate the discursive factors in the intentions and Some foods were regarded as resonances between the experiences of anorexic clean and pure, such as vegestories. Although not an people which may be a better tables, others, such as fats, anthropologist herself, Sauk- way of understanding the oils, butter and meat were ko’s ‘quilting project’ points disorder. One of the major seen as ‘defiling’, ‘disgustto the importance of ethnog- contributions to the anthro- ing’, polluting’ or ‘contamiraphy. Ethnographical study pological study of anorexia nating’ (Warin, 2003, pp. can create new bodies of is the work of Megan Warin. 80). These foods were seen information about anorexic Warin conducted fieldwork as dangerous and so participeople which are anchored in Adelaide, South Australia; pants avoided ingesting in concrete lived experiences Vancouver, British Colum- them, and also avoided phys(Gooldin, 2008). Ethnogra- bia; and Edinburgh, Scotland ical contact with them. Warin phy allows anthropologists in the late 1990s and early discovered that it was particto spend time with people 2000. The participants were ular properties of particular with anorexia, listen to their forty-four women and three foods which anorexic people stories, watch how they men ranging in age from find abhorrent and that operate in their worlds, and fourteen to fifty-five, all of anorexic food practices are they can thus allow the voice whom were in different driven by ideas of purity and of the anorexic to be heard. stages of dealing with cleanliness. These findings Through ethnography, anorexia, from newly diag- challenge the notion of anthropology can rectify the nosed to recovered (Warin, anorexia being driven by position of the anorexic as 2010). In attending to the wanting a slimmer body. an object for outsider’s gaze, everyday embodied practices One participant, Trudy, or a symbol of societal of her informants, Warin was explicitly states the imporpressures. Anthropology can able to reveal a complex tance of clean and dirty: reconnect anorexia to its layering of meaning “Much of my anorexia was context and reground under- surrounding the food practic- about being ‘clean’ versus WINTER 2016 | 16

ANTHROPOLOGY ‘dirty.’ Not eating was clean.

Eating was dirty, contaminating. It was not about being fat or thin. Nor was it about weight” (Warin, 2003, pp. 80).

The participants’ decisions to not ingest certain foods were not based on creating a thinner body, but on the sensations and feelings associated with eating those foods. Warin’s ethnographic study reveals how in depth discussions with anorexic people and attention to their everyday experiences can draw attention to new understandings of the intentions and beliefs surrounding anorexic food practices.

As well as offering new insights into why anorexic people do things, anthropology also provides insights into how they do things, which allows agency and full human status to people with anorexia.

capacity to have children (Warin, 2006, pp.41). Megan Warin (2006), in her ethnographic field work, paid particular attention to ways in which people with anorexia understood and experienced relatedness in their everyday lives. Warin found that anorexic people were not in a void of relatedness; in fact, they were creating new meanings and ways of being related. Participants in Warin’s study had entered into a relationship with anorexia, which tempered other relationships in their lives. The disorder itself was a form of being related to other people with anorexia.

Some participants characterised anorexia as belonging to a secret and powerful group (Warin, 2006, pp.43). Participants spoke about a sense of belonging to an identity that revolved around the particularities of anorexic practices (Warin, 2006, pp.44-45).

Th o s e w h o i d e n t i f i e d w i t h a n o rex i c i d e n i t i t y s h a re d i n a c u l t u re o f c o m p e t i t i o n , s e c re c y, d i s t i n c t i o n a n d p r a c t i c e s ( . . . ) Th e h u n ge r t h ey ex p e r i e c e d w a s re l a t e d t o a s e n s e One way of understanding anorexic people’s agency is in how they construct relatedness in their everyday lives. It is often commented in other discourses that anorexia is linked with negative effects of sociality such as regression, withdrawal and ‘toxic families’. Anorexia also negates some important avenues of relatedness such as commensality and the

Warin witnessed the existence of an ‘anorexic culture’ within the institutions that she studied. Those who identified with anorexic identity shared in a culture of competition, secrecy, distinction and practices.

This anorexic culture has also been seen outside of institutional settings, for example on the ‘Pro-Ana’ websites. These

websites are a place for the development of ‘Pro-Ana’ communities which are non-recovery oriented, and offer support and tips for crafting a ‘Pro-Ana lifestyle’ (Boero & Pascoe, 2012, pp.29). Boero and Pascoe (2012) conducted a study of online pro-anorexia communities. It was found that these communities are fraught with tensions over claims to authenticity and competitive attempts to being ‘the best anorexic’.

Participants showed their authenticity through engaging in group rituals, posting pictures of their weight loss and sharing techniques for weight-loss and hiding the disorder from friends and family. These techniques are all employed to ensure inclusion in the ‘Pro-Ana’ community and to thereby prove the status of true anorexic, disproving any possibility that they are a wannarexic (someone who wants to take part in the community but whose credibility as anorexic is in doubt) (Boero & Pascoe, 2012, pp.39). Wannarexics play an important role in these communities. As outsiders, wannarexics reinforced the sense of the ‘Pro-Ana’ community. ‘Pro-Ana’ anorexics studied in these online communities used aggression, experience and knowledge as tools to assert their individual authenticity and also to define and reinforce the boundaries of the ‘Pro-Ana’ community (Boero & Pascoe, 2012, pp.

46). In using these tools and rituals anorexic people on these sites are building and

maintain a community as well as crafting specific identities for themselves based on their membership to ‘Pro-Ana’ communities (Boero & Pascoe, 2012, pp.49). These interactions challenge clinical notions of the isolated anorexic and illustrate a world of anorexia which involves interaction and community (Boero & Pascoe, 2012, pp. 29). Such details of the everyday creation of relatedness in the anorexic experience shows how anorexic people are not passive victims but actively create and maintain new ideas of relatedness in the absence of traditional notions of commensality and the possibility of having children.

Anthropological study of the everyday lives of anorexic people has also added to understandings about how anorexic people construct their identities in relation to anorexia. A study

by Sigal Gooldin (2008) explores how anorexic women in Israel used the hunger they experienced to actively construct a ‘heroic moral subjectivity’ in which everyday practices gained new meaning for them.

Gooldin (2008) demonstrates that the experience of hunger and the associated pain and suffering, is transformed by anorexic people, into a feeling of self-efficiency, power and achievement.

One participant, 14-year-old Debbie, in an interview, makes this connection between hunger and achievement when discussing her WINTER 2016 | 17

ANTHROPOLOGY people, who actively choose, plan and carry out conscious actions. Their ability to overcome physical obstacles such as hunger, are used in this construction of their ideas of autonomous selfhood. They felt that they had transcended the mundane and entered the sphere of the heroic (Gooldin, 2008, pp.287). These ideas of autonomy and the use of hunger to construct identities add to our understandings of anorexia and problematizes the picture of the anorexic as passive. Through ethnographic information about how these women viewed their hunger, understandings can be built about how anorexic people understand and operate in their environThe participants ments, and how they experiwere giving meaning to their ence agency. hunger, and it was through In understanding their strength to defeat hunger that they constructed these everyday realities, the selfhood. This selfhood was anorexic experience is comstrongly described as being plexified, and anorexic autonomous. One partici- people regain agency and are pant, Yasmin states this seen as whole people rather belief in the autonomy and than symbols or victims. determination of anorexic Ethnography allows for the understanding of the people people: “They think they can make rather than just of the disorme eat, but they can’t. [Turns der. Participants in these to therapist]: You know how ethnographic studies are it is, we [anorexics] are very seen as agents in their own determined and you can’t world, who construct and force it on a person. At least, adapt to their environment, not on me... It’s me who has not just as victims or slaves to want it, no one can force it to their disorder. on me anyway, so why even Finally, these new try? Do you know how much willpower we’ve got [us, anthropological understandanorexics]?”

(Gooldin, ings of the lived experiences can help to create better 2008, pp.285).

The women in Goodlin’s treatment processes for those study presented themselves suffering with anorexia. The as competent, autonomous recovery rates for anorexia decision not to eat: I know you’ll think its superficial and all, but it’s very difficult to do this [pronounces with an emphasis], especially in the beginning.

So, it gives you a good feeling. [Q: What feeling?] A feeling of “I can do it” (Gooldin, 2008, pp.

281-282).

Hunger played an important role in the everyday experience of all participants, and many linked the pain and suffering with positive verbs such as ‘enjoy’, ‘like’, ‘made it’ and ‘succeeded’ (Gooldin, 2008, pp. 282). The hunger they experienced was related to a sense of achievement, and of defeating physical difficulties.

are low, and it continues to affect a larger proportion of people than any other mental illness (Warin, 2003; Gooldin, 2008). Current medical and psychological understandings are influenced by the popular discourses and do not adequately understanding the condition. For example, the British Medical Association (BMA) issued a

though underweight.

C. Disturbance in the way in which one's body weight or shape is experienced, undue influence of body weight or shape on self-evaluation, or denial of the seriousness of the current low body weight.

D. In post-menarcheal females, amenorrhea, i.e. the absence of at least three consecutive menstrual cycles

E t h n o g r a p h y a l l ow s f o r t h e u n d e r standing of the people rather than j u s t o f t h e d i s o rd e r ( . . . ) a n d g r o u n d s t h e o re t i c a l a n d d i s c u r s i ve work report in 2000 espousing the role of media in producing body images as one of the main factors affecting the etiology of anorexia (Gooldin, 2008). This focus on the role of the media places anorexia patients as passive victims to this influence. It does not account for the lived experiences, and therefore misses some of the essential reasons for and beliefs which continue, anorexic practices.

Further, ethnography has found that those with anorexia do not adhere to the same understandings of anorexia as the medical discourse does (O’Connor & Van Esterik, 2008). The diagnostic criteria for anorexia in the DSM-IV are as follows: A. Refusal to maintain body weight at or above a minimally normal weight for age and height B. Intense fear of gaining weight or becoming fat, even

(Hepworth, 1999).

Treatment of anorexia therefore, follows these ideas.

However, Warin (2006) discovered in her fieldwork, that none of her participants relied in the medical criteria for anorexia when describing anorexia. If anorexic people do not understand anorexia in these physiological and psychological ways, and do not experiences anorexia as a refusal to maintain body weight and do not have a disturbed body image then medical describing of the disorder in this way may need to be evaluated. As illustrated, ethnography is an invaluable way of understanding the anorexic experience and will be beneficial to creating more proficient treatment programs.

The discipline of anthropology has a great deal to contribute to understanding anorexia in a more complex and detailed way. Through ethnography, anthropology can rectify the position of the WINTER 2016 | 18

ANTHROPOLOGY anorexic as an object for outsider’s gaze, or a symbol of societal pressures. Anthropology can reconnect anorexia to its context and reground understanding of anorexia in the lived experience. Warin’s contributions have also enabled the creation of more complex understandings of the beliefs and intentions surrounding anorexic practices, problematizing the taken-for-granted ideas about dieting and emulation in the etiology of the disorder. Detailed exploration of the daily experiences of anorexic people, have enabled understanding of the agency and ingenuity of anorexic people in dealing with their disorder and creating relatedness and ideas of selfhood. Due to the capacity of ethnography to illuminate aspects of the anorexic experience, it is vital that ethnographic information is considered in creating more proficient treatment programs. Anthropology has great importance to the field of eating disorders. The holistic nature of ethnography allows for the voices of those with anorexia to be heard and creates understanding in more accurate and detailed ways than are currently popularly accepted. Further research by anthropologists in this field and others, is vital to creating more thorough understandings of how people experience and operate in their worlds. Anthropology allows the people to be predominant, gives them a voice, and grounds theoretical and

discursive work in the detailed and rich everyday lives of the people whom such theories supposedly represent.

Re fe re n c e s Boero, N & Pascoe, CJ 2012, ‘Pro-anorexia Communities and Online Interaction: Bringing the Pro-ana Body Online’, Body Society, vol.18, no.2, pp.27-57. Ferreday, D. 2012. ‘Anorexia and abjection: A review essay’, Body & Society, vol.

18, pp. 139-155.

Gooldin, Sigal 2008, ‘Being Anorexic: Hunger, Subjectivi ty, and Embodied Morality’, Medical Anthropology Quaterly, vol. 22, no. 3, pp.274-296.

Hepworth, J 1999, The Social Construction of Anorexia Nervosa, Sage Publications, London.

Monagham, J & P Just 2000, ‘Afterword: Some things We’ve learned’ in Social and Cultural Anthropolo gy: A very short introduction, Oxford University Press, Oxford.

O’Connor, RA & P Van Esterik 2008, ‘De-Medicalizing Anorexia: A New Cultural Brokering’, Anthropolo gy Today, vol. 24, no. 5, pp. 6-9.

Saukko, P. 2000. ‘Between Voice and Discourse: Quilting Interviews on Anorexia’, Qualitative Inquiry, vol. 6, pp.299-317.

Warin, M. 2003. ‘Miasmatic calories and saturating fats: fear of contamination in anorexia’, Culture, Medi cine and Psychiatry, vol. 27, pp. 77–93.

Warin, M. 2004 ‘Primitivising Anorexia: The Irresistible Spectacle of Not Eating’, The Australian Journal of Anthropology, vol. 15, no. 1, pp. 95-104.

Warin, M.J. 2006, ‘Reconfiguring relatedness in Anorexia’, Anthropology & Medicine, vol. 13, no. 1, pp.

41-54.

Warin, Megan, 2010, Abject Relations: Everyday Worlds of Anorexia, Rutgers University Press, New Bruns wick.

WINTER 2016 | 19

BIOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY

BIAN3113 H u m a n E vo l u t i o n

By Elise Jakeman

Describe the morpholog y of the specimens from Sima de los Huesos.

U s i n g m o r p h o l o g i c a l a n d m o l e c u l a r ev i d e n c e, d i s c u s s w h e t h e r t h i s p o p u l a t i o n s h o u l d b e i n c l u d e d w i t h i n t h e N e a n d e r t h a l c l a d e.

From a human evolutionary perspective, the Middle Pleistocene presents a complicated image that is difficult to interpret (Buck and Stringer 2014). The highly varied nature of hominin morphologies during this period has left the evolutionary pathways of various hominin species unclear, particularly those of H. sapiens and H. neanderthalensis (Bermúdez de Castro et al. 1997). The 1976 discovery of a hominin population in Spain’s Sima de los Huesos site has thrown further confusion onto the matter, as the vast majority of the specimens share primitive features and traditionally derived features with many other hominin species, including H. sapiens and H. neanderthalensis. Due to this, the population was placed in the H. heidelbergensis clade, a Middle Pleistocene species that has become the de facto ancestral link due to a number of fundamental diagnostic issues (Buck and Stringer 2014). From a cladistic point of view, only terminal species are diagnostic in terms of uniquely

derived traits (Carretero et al. 1997). However, due to the appearance of a number of classical Neanderthal traits in the Sima de los Huesos sample, there have been numerous attempts to establish the extent of relatedness between the two hominins and to ascertain whether the Sima de los Huesos sample should be reclassified into the Neanderthal clade. Despite the high degree of morphological similarity, a mitochondrial DNA analysis of the Spanish hominins revealed that they were more genetically similar to a Russian hominin population known as the Denisovans (Meyer et al.

2013). With regards to this evidence, it may not be possible to reclassify entirely the Sima de los Huesos specimens. However, with more evidence, it may be possible to assign them as an ancestral pathway for both the Denisovans and the Neanderthals Whilst it has been generally accepted that the evolutionary lineages of H. sapiens and H. neanderthalensis originated during the

Middle Pleistocene, the exact nature, origin, and temporal landscape of their last common ancestor is a continuing controversy (Buck and Stringer 2014).

Due to the highly varied morphological nature of many Middle Pleistocene hominin fossils, in addition to the unclear evolutionary pathways of various archaic population groups, there has been a growing consensus that many specimens not readily identifiable as H. erectus should be sorted into the group H. heidelbergensis (BermĂşdez de Castro et al.

1997; Mounier et al. 2009; Dennell et al. 2011). This latter group has become the de facto last common ancestor for H. sapiens and Neanderthals, however, there are a number of fundamental concerns for this association, mainly due to the nature of the diagnostic specimen for H. heidelbergensis (Buck and Stringer 2014). This type specimen consists of an isolated mandible found in 1907 at Mauer, near Heidelberg, in Germany (Buck and Stringer 2014). The mandible, dated to c.610 kya, has features reminiscent of H.

erectus in regards to its size, robusticity, and lack of mental eminence; other features, such as its relatively small teeth, ally it with later species (Buck and Stringer 2014). The inherent issue with diagnosing a species from a single mandible, in addition to the lack of taxonomically diagnostic features contained in the mandible, is that mandibular material is lacking for many Middle Pleistocene hominin populations (Buck and Springer 2014). This has resulted in H. heidelbergensis being associated with a mosaic of primitive and derived features, of which only a few are linked exclusively to either H. sapiens or H. neanderthalensis (Rightmire 2001; Mounier et al.

2009; Buck and Springer 2014). Currently, this uncertain group contains the specimens from the Middle Pleistocene site, Sima de los Huesos (SH), located in Spain. However, there have been many morphological and molecular studies to assess whether these specimens may more appropriately belong to the evolutionary pathway of the H. neanderWINTER 2016 | 20

BIOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY thalensis clade, rather than the joint pathway described

by H. heidelbergensis (Bermúdez de Castro et al.

1997).

In 1997, the first hominin fossils were excavated from the SH cavern (Fig. 1) located in the Sierra de Atapuerca, Spain (Bermúdez de Castro et al.

2004). The topography of the site is largely karstic, a landscape that is characterised by underground drainage systems and is often comprised of a combination of soluble rocks, such as limestone, dolomite, and gypsum (Andrews and Fernandez Jalvo 1997). The SH cavern is a small blind chamber located at the bottom of a 13 metre vertical shaft in addition to at least three other potential entry points, the latter of which have been obstructed by cave debris (Andrews and Fernandez Jalvo 1997). The base of the cavern has been infilled with layers of sediment (Andrews and Fernandez Jalvo 1997). The hominin remains were excavated from the Middle Pleistocene deposits, a layer dated to 400-600 kya, which presents silty clay overlain by cave breccia and the remains of archaic carnivores (Andrews and Fernandez Jalvo 1997; Bischoff et al. 2007; Arsuaga et al.

2014). To date, over 6,500 fossils have been uncovered, representing an MNI of approximately 28 (Arsuaga et al. 2014). Several theories have been proposed to explain the entry of hominin remains in the cave, of

which the most likely include anthropic deposition or an unspecified catastrophic event (Bermúdez de Castro et al. 2004). A lack of herbivore remains and stone tools (a single finely crafted handaxe has been located) suggest that the site was not a by-product of carnivore activity, nor was it utilised for human occupation (Conroy and Pontzer 2012).

Excavations at the SH cavern have contributed more than 80 percent of the fossil evidence for the Middle Pleistocene Homo population worldwide, and the morphological and molecular analysis of the hominin fossils may provide immensely valuable information concerning the evolutionary pathway of H. neanderthalensis (Bermúdez de Castro et al 2004).

samples, the opsithocranion outline) and H. sapiens falls on the occipital plane, (divergent lateral walls), just above the inion, largely presenting either a conversely to H. neander- parallel or slightly superiorthalensis, where the ly convergent profile opsithocranion is placed (Arsuaga et al. 2014). The well above the superior relatively flat articular nuchal line on the occipital eminence present on the squama (Arsuaga et al. temporal bone is an addi1997; Arsuaga et al. 2014). tional trait shared between Both the SH sample and H. the SH hominins and Neanneanderthalensis share the derthals (Martínez and primitive placement of the Arsuaga 1997). Of note, the inion on the linear tubercle supraorbital tori in the SH (Arsuaga et al. 1997). The crania are well-developed, occipital planes exhibited by double-arched, and rounded, the SH specimens all show a with no division into sepa“certain degree” of curva- rate arches (Arsuaga et al. ture, however, they lack the 2014). This general supraorelongation, typical lamboi- bital torus pattern closely dal flattening, and the occip- approaches the derived ital ‘bunning’ that is charac- Neanderthal morphology, teristic of Neanderthals and is clearly different from (Arsuaga et al. 1997; Arsua- other European and African ga et al. 2014). The shape of Middle Pleistocene specithe braincase in the SH mens (Arsuaga et al. 2014). sample departs from both the primitive state of early The SH midface The complete crania Homo species and the also displays a mosaic of (Fig. 2) and fragmentary derived condition seen in different primitive and remains excavated from the Neanderthals (circular derived hominin characterisSH site present a number of varying features with different phylogenetic significances (Arsuaga et al. 1997).

In the 1997 analysis conducted by Arsuaga et al., only two complete crania were able to be measured for cranial capacity indications, producing values of 1390 cc and 1125 cc. A third cranium assessed in the 2014 Arsuaga et al. analysis allowed for a mean cranial capacity of 1232 cc to be estimated, a value that is well below the Neanderthal and H. sapiens Pleistocene means. The morphological features of F i g . 1 : C ro s s - s e c t i o n o f t h e S H c a v e r n , s h o w i n g t h e d i f f e re n t s t r a t i g r a p h i c c o l u m n s t h ro u g h o u t t h e s i t e the SH crania present a and sampling (Arsuaga et al. 2014) mixed image of hominin traits. In all of the SH crania WINTER 2016 | 21

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F i g . 2 : S H c r a n i u m 5 ( s c a l e b a r re p re s e n t s 2 c m ) (Arsuaga et al. 1997)

tics. The zygomatic root is located at a medial point between the Neanderthal (low) and modern human (high) placements (Arsuaga et al. 2014). The nasal spine is positioned anteriorly in the SH specimens, with zygomaxilliary angles that fall within the H. neanderthalensis range of variation (Arsuaga et al. 2014). However, where Neanderthals show a distinctive derived pattern of nasal crests, the SH sample all display the primitive pattern: a posterolateral crest running from the nasal spine across the nasal floor and a second crest extending from the lateral margin of the nasal aperture, both crests being clearly separated (Bermúdez de Castro et al. 1997). Both H. neanderthalensis and the SH

specimens display a similar degree of midfacial prognathism, however the Neanderthal profile tends to be more “inflated, smooth, and retreating” (Arsuaga et al.

1997; Arsuaga et al. 2014).

Despite the diagnostic requirement of H. heidelbergensis being mandibular features, the SH mandibles show a number of derived H. neanderthalensis features (Rosas 2001; Arsuaga et al.

2014). The SH sample is morphologically consistent, with little size- and sex-related variation (Arsuaga et al. 2014). The ascending ramus is characterised by an asymmetrical configuration of the superior margin, the relatively inferior position of the condyle, a medial insertion of the incisure crest at the condyle, and a well-de-

veloped lateral pterygoid fossa on the medial surface of the condylar neck (Rosas 2001; Arsuaga et al. 2014).

These features are associated with a masticatory specialisation in H. neanderthalensis (Arsuaga et al.

2014). In addition to the ascending ramus features, a number of other highly significant similarities can be viewed between the SH hominins and classic Neanderthal morphology: the posterior position of the mental foramen, a large retromolar space, and large anterior marginal tubercles (Rosas 2001; Harvati et al.

2011).

The dental samples (Fig. 3) from the SH site consist of more than 500 teeth, including both permanent and deciduous exam-

ples (Martinón-Torres et al.

2012). This evidence is highly valuable when assessing the potential evolutionary pathways of the Middle Pleistocene due to the highly inheritable nature of dental form, which may render them more useful than any other skeletal element (Martinón-Torres et al. 2012). Several studies have stated that Neanderthals display a distinctive set of dental morphological features, which have resulted in a diagnostic formula for H. neanderthalensis dental remains (Bermúdez de Castro and Nicholás 1995; Bailey 2002; Gómez-Robles et al. 2011). A study conducted by Martinón-Torres et al. (2012) produced results that indicate the SH sample present “all the morphological traits” that are usually considered diagnostic of H. neanderthalensis. These traits include labial convexity and ‘shovelling’ of the upper incisors, prominent lingual tubercles and further shovelling of the upper canines, P3s with a symmetrical contour and a canine-like metaconid, and deep pit-like anterior fovea and continuous middle trigonoid crests in the lower molars (Martinón-Torres et al. 2012). With the exception of milder shovelling in I1s and tuberculum dentale, “all the traits […] described for SH dentitions are considered typical of H. neanderthalensis (Martinón-Torres et al.

2012). In sum, SH hominins present dental morphology that is as classically Neanderthal as those seen in H. WINTER 2016 | 22

BIOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY neanderthalensis specimens recovered from the sites at Krapina, Croatia, or Hortus, France (Martinón-Torres et al. 2012).

In addition to the common cranial and dental traits, the SH hominins share particular morphological features in the pectoral and pelvic girdles that were traditionally thought to be derived traits in H. neanderthalensis (Carretero et al.

1997; Bonmati et al. 2010).

Clavicular midshaft perimeters measured in the SH sample are similar to the mean values of both Neanderthals and H. sapiens, what makes them interesting, however, is the twisted

diaphysis in all SH individuals described by Carretero et al. (1997): when the clavicle is viewed with the anteroposterior axis of the acromion on the horizontal plane, the dorsal surface is cranially oriented at the acromial end, but anteriorly directed at the midshaft. The meaning of this trait is unclear (Carretero et al. 1997). In all SH specimens, the midshaft cross-sections present a compressed elliptical shape, a morphology known as a ‘platicleidic clavicle’ (Carretero et al. 1997). This paticleidic trait is found in high frequencies amongst Neanderthals, although it must be noted that the trait can be found to some extent

in most hominin species (Melillo 2016). Most importantly, however, a number of SH scapulae specimens present a well-developed dorsoaxillary pillar associated with the dorsal sulcus and an absence of a ventral bar (Carretero et al. 1997).

Neanderthals share the same pillar and lack of ventral bar, the latter of which is noteworthy for its development in both Australopithecus and modern humans (Carretero et al. 1997). Additionally, the SH sample presents a dorsal sulcus in both juvenile and adult specimens of varying robusticity, suggesting that its development is not linked to either maturation or muscular develop-

F i g . 3 : A s e l e c t i o n o f I 1 f ro m S H ( M a r t i n ó n - To r re s e t a l . 2 0 1 2 )

ment (Carretero et al. 1997).

Carretero et al. (1997) suggest that its appearance may be linked with the different morphological pattern of the SH and Neanderthal pectoral girdles, and may be genetically encoded.

Whilst only a single complete pelvis has been excavated from SH to date, it is possible to view similarities between its morphology and those of H. neanderthalensis (Bonmati et al. 2010). The morphological pattern present in the SH fragmentary samples tend to indicate a primitive pattern shared by H. ergaster, other Middle Pleistocene hominins, and Neanderthals (Bonmati et al.

2010). Within this primitive pattern, Neanderthals are distinguished by an extreme craniocaudal thinning of the superior pubic ramus, a sharp contrast to the robust modern human pubic ramus (Bonmati et al. 2010). The SH sample falls at an intermediate point between these two thicknesses, as does a specimen from Jinniushan, China (Bonmati et al. 2010).

It has been theorised that these two hominin groups may represent the condition from which H. neanderthalensis and H. sapiens diverged (Bonmati et al.

2010).

The mosaic nature of the skeletal morphology of the SH sample creates difficulty when assigning it to both a species and an evolutionary pathway. Some features present in the SH remains are apparently characteristic of primitive morphology, other aspects WINTER 2016 | 23

BIOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY are typical of H. neanderthalensis, and some traits appear to be linked to those present in modern H. sapiens (Carretero et al.

1997; Rosas 1997). However, the large proportion of shared characteristics between the SH sample and diagnostic H. neanderthalensis morphology (such as the position of the mental foramen, the appearance of a retromolar space, and the dorsal sulcus present on the scapula) suggests that it may more aptly be placed in the Neanderthal clade, if not as part of the same species then

were merged together to reconstruct full-length molecule sequences, before being mapped against the modern human genome (Meyer et al.

2013). For most of the characterised libraries, less than 0.1 percent of the sequences to could be confidently matched to the modern human genome, and, in instances where the libraries were overly rich in modern human DNA, present-day human contamination was accounted for (Meyer et al.

2013). Frequencies amongst the libraries suggested that two populations of sequenc-

Despite the unusual cranial m o r p h o l o g y p re s e n t i n t h e S i m a de los Huesos hominins, [some] c h a r a c t e r i s t i c t r a i t s ( . . . ) a re h i g h l y s i m i l a r t o t h o s e p re s e n t in H. neander thalensis certainly as the evolutionary pathway (Conroy and Pontzer 2012). In order to determine the accuracy of the potential reclassification, it is essential to look at other forms of evidence. A study conducted by Meyer et al.

(2013) managed to isolate an almost complete mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) genome sequence from one of the hominins from the SH site. Samples were extracted from the breaks in Femur XIII, which had been excavated in three parts from 1994-1999 (Meyer et al.

2013). DNA was isolated and converted into 77 ‘libraries’ for sequencing and characterisation (Meyer et al. 2013). When ends of the libraries overlapped they

es were present in the data: an endogenous population and an (as yet) unknown one (Meyer et al. 2013). The unknown population was removed from the sample, isolating the remaining libraries and allowing a mapping quality filter to be applied to them (Meyer et al.

2013). The final sequence was compared against the mtDNA of present-day and archaic hominins, H. neanderthalensis, a Russian population of Middle Pleistocene hominin known as the Denisovans (a sister-species to the Neanderthals), Pan troglodytes, and Pan paniscus (Meyer et al.

2013). Results from the analysis showed that the SH hominin population was

tion is more genetically related to the Denisovan population of Russia and another unknown hominin population. Due to these unexpected results, it may not be possible to reclassify the SH population into the H. neanderthalensis clade, despite the apparent morphological similarity.

Rather, the SH hominins could either be the ancestral link to both the Neanderthals and Denisovans, or there could have been another mystery population that brought Denisovan-like DNA into the Neanderthal line, should the SH populaDespite the unusual tion be the direct Neandercranial morphology present thal ancestor (Arsuaga et al. in the Sima de los Huesos 2014). hominins, the characteristic traits of the mandible, dentition, and pectoral and pelvic girdles are highly similar to those present in H. neanderthalensis (Arsuaga et al.

1997; Carretero et al. 1997; Rosas 2001; Bonmati et al.

2010; Harvati et al. 2011; MartinĂłn-Torres et al. 2012; Arsuaga et al. 2014). Many of these shared traits were traditionally believed to be classical derived traits of the Neanderthal clade and were used as diagnostic morphology (Conroy and Pontzer 2012). However, the appearance of these traits in the older SH sample indicates the potential genetic-relatedness of the two populations, making the current H. heidelbergensis classification of the SH hominins void (Arsuaga et al. 2014).

Conversely, the mtDNA study conducted by Meyer et al. (2014) has also demonstrated that the SH populamost closely related to the Denisovans, in addition to the unknown population (Meyer et al. 2013). Due to these two divergent lineages, there are a number of possible explanations: it may be possible to attribute the evolution of both the Denisovans and the Neanderthals to the SH hominin population (each stemming from the different lineages), or there was gene flow from another (unknown) population that introduced Denisovan-like DNA into the SH population (Arsuaga et al.

2014).

WINTER 2016 | 24

BIOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY References: Andrews, P. and Fernandez Jalvo, Y. 1997. ‘Surface modifications of the Sima de los Huesos fossil humans’. Journal of Human Evolution 33(2-3):191-217.

Arsuaga, J., Martínez, I., Arnold, L, Aranburu, A., Gracia-Téllez, A., Sharp, W., Quam, R., Falguères, C., Pantoja-Pérez, A., Bischoff, J., Poza-Rey, E., Parés, J., Carretero, J., Demuro, M., Lorenzo, C., Sala, N., Martinón-Torres, M., García, N., Alcázar de Velasco, A., Cuena-Bescós, G., Gómez-Olivencia, A., Moreno, D., Pablos, A., Shen, C., Rodríguez, L., Ortega, A., García, R., Bonmati, A., Bermúdez de Castro, J. and Carbonell, E. 2014. ‘Neanderthal roots: cranial and chronological evidence from Sima de los Huesos’.

Science 44(6190):1358-1363.

Arsuaga, J., Martínez, I., Gracia, A. and Lorenzo, C. 1997.

‘The Sima de los Huesos crania (Sierra de Atapuerca, Spain): a comparative study’. Journal of Human Evolution33:219-281.

Bailey, S. 2002. ‘A closer look at Neanderthal postcanine dental morphology: the mandibular dentition’. The Anatomical Record (New Anatomy) 269:148-156.

Bermúdez de Castro, J. and Nicolás, M. 1995. ‘Posterior dental size reduction in hominids: the Atapuerca evidence’. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 96:335-356.

Bermúdez de Castro, J., Arsuaga, J., Carbonell, E., Rosas, A., Martínez, I. and Mosquera, M. 1997. ‘A hominid from the Lower Pleistocene of Atapuerca, Spain: possible ancestor to Neanderthals and modern humans’.

Science 276(5317):1392-1395.

Bermúdez de Castro, J., Martinón-Torres, M., Lozano, M., Sarmiento, S. and Muela, A. 2004. ‘Paleodemography of the Atapuerca-Sima De Los Huesos hominin sample: a revision and new approaches to the paleode mography of the European Middle Pleistocene popu lation’. Journal of Anthropological Research 60(1):5-26.

Bischoff, J., Williams, R., Rosenbauer, R., Aramburu, A., Arsuaga, J., García, N. and Cuenca-Bescós, G. 2007.

‘High-resolution U-series dates from the Sima de los Huesos hominids yields 600 kyrs: implications for the evolution of the early Neanderthal lineage’. Journal of Archaeological Science 34(5):763-770.

Bonmati, A., Gómez-Olivencia, A., Arsuaga, J., Carretero, J., Gracia, A., Martínez, I., Lorenzo, C., Bermúdez de Castro, J. and Carbonell, E. 2010. ‘Middle Pleistocene lower back and pelvis from an aged human individual from the Sima de los Huesos site, Spain’. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 107(43):18386-18391.

Buck, L. and Stringer, B. 2014. ‘Homo heidelbergensis’.

Current Biology 24(6):R214-R215.

Carretero, J., Arsuaga, J. and Lorenzo, C. 1997. ‘Clavicles, scapulae and humeri from the Sima de los Huesos site (Sierra de Atapuerca, Spain)’. Journal of Human Evolution 33:357-408.

Conroy, G. and Pontzer, H. 2012. Reconstructing Human Origins: a Modern Synthesis. New York: W. W. Norton & Company.

Dennell, R., Martinón-Torres, M. and Bermúdez de Castro, J. 2011. ‘Hominin variability, climatic instability and population demography in Middle Pleistocene Europe’.

Quaternary Science Review 30:1511-1524.

Gómez-Robles, A., Martinón-Torres, M., Bermúdez de Castro, J., Prado-Simón, L. and Arsuaga, J. 2011. ‘A geometric morphometric analysis of hominin upper premolars: shape variation and morphological integration’. Journal of Human Evolution 61(6):688-702.

Harvati, K., Singh, N. and Nicholson López, E. ‘A three-dimensional look at the Neanderthal mandible’. In Condemi, S. and Weniger, G. (eds.) 2011. Continuity and Discontinuity in the Peopling of Europe: One Hundred and Fifty Years of Neanderthal Study. New York: Springer.

Martínez, I. and Arsuaga, J. 1997. ‘The temporal bones from Sima de los Huesos Middle Pleistocene site (Sierra de Atapuerca, Spain): a phylogenetic approach’.

Journal of Human Evolution 33:283-318.

Martinón-Torres, M., Bermúdez de Castro, J., Gómez-Robles, A., Prado-Simón, L. and Arsuaga, J. 2012. ‘Morphological description and comparison of the dental remains from Atapuerca-Sima de los Huesos site (Spain)’. Journal of Human Evolution 62:7-58.

Melillo, S. ‘The shoulder girdle of KSD-VP-1/1’. In Haile-Selas sie, Y. and Su, D. (eds) 2012. The Postcranial Anatomy of Australopithecus afarensis. New York: Springer.

Meyer, M., Fu, Q., Aximu-Petri, A., Glocke, I., Nickel, B., Arsuaga, J., Martínez, I.,Gracia, A., de Castro, J., Carbonell, E. and Pääbo, S. 2013. ‘A mitochondrial genome sequence of a hominin from Sima de los Huesos’. Nature 505(7483):403-406.

Mounier, A., Marchal, F. and Condemi, S. 2009. ‘Is Homo heidel bergensis a distinct species? New insight on the Mauer mandible’. Journal of Human Evolution 56:219-246.

Rightmire, G. 2011. ‘Patterns of hominid evolution and dispersal in the Middle Pleistocene’. Quaternary International 75:77-84.

Rosas, A. 2001. ‘Occurrence of Neanderthal features in mandibles from the Atapuerca-SH site’. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 114:74-91.

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BIOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY BIAN6120 Cultural solutions to biological p r o b l e m s : E vo l u t i o n , j e a l o u s y, a n d i n t i m a t e p a r t n e r v i o l e n c e.

By Ben Gleeson

Recent attempts to deal with outrageous levels of male violence against women in Australia have tended to focus attention upon cultural change as a way to prevent it. Interestingly however, numerous researchers assert that intimate partner violence (IPV) may be a result of evolved psychological mechanisms.

Does the existence of biological predispositions mean cultural approaches to IPV are likely to prove ineffective?

In this brief article, I first quantify the problem of IPV against women, and then discuss some of the evolutionary explanations put forward to explain it. In particular, I focus on previous literature concerning divergent reproductive strategies among males and females and the different forms of jealousy which these give rise to. I conclude that understanding these evolved mechanisms may help individuals lessen their likelihood of experiencing IPV and, further, I explain why social affirmations of the unacceptability of IPV are an effective approach to

reducing its occurrence.

Familial assault and homicide in Australia: To provide an indication of the quality and quantity of physical assaults (not including sexual assaults) in Australia, relevant data for the years 2010-2013, by sex of victim and relationship to the offender, is provided in Figure 1 (Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2014).

Perhaps the most notable aspect of this figure is the distinctly contrasting patterns it shows between

male and female victims of assault. Among females the abuser overwhelmingly tends to be a family member and not a stranger, however, this trend is reversed for males. Shockingly, female victims were more likely to have been assaulted by a current intimate partner (33.2%) than by any other category of relation, including: ex-partner (11.2%), other family member (15%), or stranger (14.2%). This pattern of assaults also translates to recorded trends in Australian homicide. Table 1 presents figures for all homicides

recorded over the ten years between 2002 and 2012. In cases of homicide involving intimate partners it is overwhelmingly females who are the victims (75% of cases), whereas males are more often the victims of homicide perpetrated by non-family members (83%). Note that males tend to be the offender across both these categories of homicide (Bryant & Cusson, 2015).

Ultimate explanations for intimate partner violence: Multiple

authors

F i g u re 1 : A s s a u l t v i c t i m s ’ re l a t i o n s h i p t o o f f e n d e r b y s e x . F i g u re i n c l u d e s d a t a f o r N S W, S A , N T a n d A C T ( A u s t r a l i a n B u re a u o f S t a t i s t i c s , 2 0 1 4 ) WINTER 2016 | 26

BIOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY

Ta b l e 1 : H o m i c i d e Vi c t i m a n d O f f e n d e r b y R e l a t i o n s h i p and Sex, 2002-2012 ( c a l c u l a t e d f ro m B r y a n t & C u s s o n , 2 0 1 5 ) .

have suggested intimate partner violence (IPV) has adaptive evolutionary explanations (Buss & Duntley, 2011; D’Alessio & Stolzenberg, 2010; Goetz, Shackelford, Romero, Kaighobadi, & Miner, 2008; Stieglitz, Gurven, Kaplan, & Winking, 2012; Stieglitz, Kaplan, Gurven, Winking, & Tayo, 2011; Wilson & Daly, 1996). One line of evidence which might support this perspective is the presence of coercive and violent male mating strategies among non-human primate species (Smuts & Smuts, 1993).

Such strategies involve mate-guarding and sexual coercion, whereby males attempt to control female sexuality, thus preventing consort with other males whilst maintaining their own reproductive access. This widespread primate behaviour strongly suggests the existence of evolved psychological mechanisms that predispose dominant males to coercion strategies, including forms of IPV. This further suggests the possibility that some violent and coercive behaviours witnessed among human

males (evidenced in Figure 1 and Table 1) might also be driven by motivations similar to that of primate mate guarding, as is suggested by Stieglitz et al. (2012).

The history of human interaction has involved a range of strategies employed by people in order to influence each other’s behaviour. These manipulative actions arise due to the diverse, sometimes conflicting, motivations and goals pursued by each person. From an evolutionary perspective, the most fundamental goals of an individual are to ensure reproductive opportunity and to adequately promote the survival of offspring (Buss & Duntley, 2011; Darwin, 1859; Trivers, 1972). Given the primacy of these motivations, we would expect particularly strong selection pressure for measures that promote the reproductive success of the individual—even whist imposing costs in relation to the interests of their reproductive partners (Buss & Duntley, 2011).

Following early work by Bateman (1948) and then Trivers (1972), evolutionary researchers have often highlighted the differing reproductive strategies of males and females and the conflicting goals these may represent. Because, physiologically speaking, female mammals invest heavily to ensure offspring survival, the primary limiting factor for increased female reproduction is access to nutritional resources to nourish the growth of offspring; whereas, for males (who invest relatively less), the limiting resource is mating access to female partners (Bateman, 1948; Smuts & Smuts, 1993; Trivers, 1972). Added to these differences is the fact that males experience paternity uncertainty, whilst females know for sure which children are their own. One way in which these sexually divergent aspects of reproduction have been used to predict and explain behaviours associated with IPV is through research which explores sexual jealousy in humans. In a classic study by Buss et al.

(1992) it was demonstrated that males and females experience jealousy in significantly different ways.

Females tended to report feeling greater distress over emotional infidelity when compared to sexual infidelity, whereas men reported the opposite relationship.

Male jealousy has been identified as the leading global cause of IPV, across all cultures (Wilson & Daly, 1996). IPV by males against females has been shown to be more likely when the

female partner is younger (hence more reproductively valuable), but diminishes as the woman ages (Buss et al., 1992). It is also more likely where the male involved is of low socio-economic status, and, therefore, less able to maintain fidelity and mating access through the provision of desirable resources (D’Alessio & Stolzenberg, 2010). Another known exacerbating factor, also related to male jealousy, is where the woman actually is pregnant to a man who is not her current partner (Buss & Duntley, 2011).

Furthermore, it has been shown that IPV is more likely, and takes more extreme forms, where women have children from a previous partner within the household (Miner, Shackelford, Block, Starratt, & Weekes-shackelford, 2012).

It is also more likely where the male to female sex ratio is higher and where women work outside the home, because more potential competitors and periods of separation are also associated with elevated male jealousy (D’Alessio & Stolzenberg, 2010).

Women also show a strong jealousy response, but female jealousy is thought to differ in quality to that evolved by males (Buss et al., 1992; Shackelford & Buss, 1997; Stieglitz et al., 2012). In particular, the ‘paternal disinvestment’ hypothesis predicts that female jealousy is attuned to ensure the resources of a male partner are not misdirected to other women and their offspring in order to WINTER 2016 | 27

BIOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY increase the mating opportunities of the male (Stieglitz et al., 2011). This motivation is reflected in the tendency (mentioned above) for women to be relatively less concerned by the sexual infidelity of an intimate partner than they are by the potential for emotional infidelity (Buss et al., 1992).

Another contrast is that, unlike with male jealousy which promotes male violence towards intimate partners, jealousy is less often a motivation when females commit IPV against males (Caldwell, Swan, Allen, Sullivan, & Snow, 2009).

Instead, jealous attempts by females to limit male investment in other mates are likely to result in further IPV against women, as men may be strongly motivated to maintain their

the logic of heterosexual interactions and strategies.

However, it has been observed that IPV is just as prevalent among non-hetero members of human populations (Campo & Tayton, 2015). Further study may be useful to determine whether the same evolutionarily adaptive motivations influence IPV and homicide between LGBTIQ partners, or if other factors are of more relevance. Research by Mize and Shackelford (2008) found that methods used in intimate partner homicides differed between LGBTIQ and heterosexual offenders.

However, this study tested a relatively unsophisticated hypothesis—the expectation that men are simply more violent than women —rather than examining sexual differences in motivations

B u t d o e s t h e s u g ge s t i o n t h a t t h e re m a y b e u l t i m a t e, b i o l o g i c a l , f a c tors in IPV undermine these cultural understandings and approaches?

I n s h o r t , n o , i t d o e s n’ t . wider mating opportunities for violence with regard to (Stieglitz et al., 2012). evolved reproductive strategies.

A point of interest in Widespread socioIPV research would be logical perspectives on the whether evolved reproduc- apparent prevalence of males tive strategies influence the as the perpetrators of IPV occurrence of violence suggest this trend is princiamong Lesbian, Gay, Bisex- pally the result of culturalual, Trans, Intersex and ly-conditioned behaviours Queer (LGBTIQ) communi- (e.g.

Lawson, 2012). ties. Given that basic evolu- According to this perspectionary modifications in tive, a ‘culture of male sexually reproducing species violence’ exists whereby occur as a result of the males are encouraged to be recombination of male and competitive, aggressive and female gametes, it may be violent as an expression of understandable that most their identity as males, per evolutionary theory applies se. Heterosexual relation-

ships are also seen as strongly influenced by overarching social and economic structures which promote male domination and the abuse of women (Lawson, 2012).

These cultural approaches to IPV emphasise the need for broad social programs which stigmatise male violence against intimate partners and encourage an outspoken attitude of intolerance towards it. But does the suggestion that there may be ultimate, biological, factors in IPV undermine these cultural understandings and approaches?

In short, no, it doesn’t. There are numerous contextual factors that determine whether or not IPV occurs in a given relationship. Buss and Duntley (2011) point out that throughout our evolutionary history abusive partners are likely to have risked provoking detrimental repercussions by choosing to enact a violent reproductive strategy.

Not only might jealously-violent mate-guarding fail to prevent a mate from defecting to another partner, it is also quite likely to drive an otherwise faithful partner away. Other negative consequences of IPV include violent retaliation by the abused partner themselves, or by the partner’s kin, as well as a documented decrease in the perceived desirability of the abuser among other potential mates (Buss & Duntley, 2011). It follows that the implementation of violence as a reproductive strategy would have evolved as a set of decision rules which weigh the potential costs and benefits of this

strategy from the abuser’s perspective. This implies that if potential abusers perceive an elevated threat of negative social repercussions for IPV, they are far less likely to enact a violent coercive strategy.

In contrast, where violence against intimate partners is apparently acceptable or condoned, IPV will be relatively more prevalent. The Australian example of the infamous judicial directions invoking the acceptability of ‘rougher than usual handling’ in intimate settings (Bollen, 1992), and the resultant public outcry and ridicule that followed it, are an illustration of where public figures have threatened the lives of women by condoning violence towards them, and the informed public have responded to maintain an essential shield against this abuse. The expectation that trends in intimate partner violence might be caused by inherited psychological mechanisms does not mean that this behaviour is beyond our present efforts at amelioration. In fact, the existence of broad evolutionary themes in IPV make it a more predictable outcome in some circumstances, and this knowledge may well be useful in lessening its occurrence in future.

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BIOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY References Australian Bureau of Statistics. (2014). Recorded Crime Victims Australia 2013 (No. 4510.0). Canberra, A.C.T. Retrieved from http://www.abs.gov.au/AUSSTATS/abs@.nsf/Details Page/4510.02013?OpenDocument Bateman, A. J. (1948). Intra-sexual selection in Drosophila. Heredity, 2(3), 349–368.

Bollen, D. W. R v David Norman Johns: [unreported judgment]": 26 August 1992 (1992).

Bryant, W., & Cusson, T. (2015). Domestic/family homicide in Australia (Research Report No. 38).Australian Institute of Criminality.

Retrieved from http://www.aic.gov.au/publications/current%20se ries/rip/21-40/rip38.html Buss, D. M., & Duntley, J. D. (2011). The evolution of intimate partner violence. Aggression and Violent Behavior, 16(5), 411–419. http:doi.org/10.1016/j.avb.2011.04.015 Buss, D. M., Larsen, R. J., Westen, D., & Semmelroth, J. (1992). Sex Differenc es in Jealousy: Evolution, Physiology, and Psychology. Psychological Science, 3(4), 251–255.

Caldwell, J. E., Swan, S. C., Allen, C. T., Sullivan, T. P., & Snow, D. L. (2009).

Why I Hit Him: Women’s Reasons for Intimate Partner Violence.

Journal of Aggression, Maltreatment & Trauma, 18(7), 672–697. http:doi.org/10.1080/10926770903231783 Campo, M., & Tayton, S. (2015). Intimate partner violence in lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, intersex and queer communities (CFCA Practitioner Resource). Australian Institute of Family Studies. Retrieved from https://aifs.gov.au/cfca/publications/intimate-partner-violencelgbtiqcommunities D’Alessio, S. J., & Stolzenberg, L. (2010). The sex ratio and male-on-female intimate partner violence. Journal of Criminal Justice, 38(4), 555–561. http://doi.org/10.1016/j.jcrimjus.2010.04.026 Darwin, C. (1859). On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, Or, The Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life. London: John Murray.

Goetz, A. T., Shackelford, T. K., Romero, G. A., Kaighobadi, F., & Miner, E. J. (2008). Punishment, proprietariness, and paternity: Men’s violence against women from an evolutionary perspective. Aggression and Violent Behavior, 13(6), 481–489. http:doi.org/10.1016/j.avb.2008.07.004 Lawson, J. (2012). Sociological Theories of Intimate Partner Violence. Journal of Human Behavior in the Social Environment, 22(5), 572–590. http:doi.org/10.1080/10911359.2011.598748 Miner, E. J., Shackelford, T. K., Block, C. R., Starratt, V. G., & Weekes-shackel ford, V. A. (2012). Risk of Death or Life-Threatening Injury for Women with Children Not Sired by the Abuser. Human Nature!: An Interdisciplinary Biosocial Perspective, 23(1), 89–97. http://doi.org/ http://dx.doi.org.virtual.anu.edu.au/10.1007/s12110-012-9129-9 Mize, K. D., & Shackelford, T. K. (2008). Intimate partner homicide methods in heterosexual, gay, and lesbian relationships. Violence and Victims, 23(1), 98–114.

Shackelford, T. K., & Buss, D. M. (1997). Marital satisfaction in evolutionary psychological perspective. In R. J. Sternberg & M. Hojjat (Eds.), Satisfaction in close relationships. NewYork: The Guilford Press.

Smuts, B. B., & Smuts, R. w. (1993). Male Aggression and Sexual Coercion of Females in Nonhuman Primates and Other Mammals: Evidence and Theoretical Implications. In Advances in the Study of Behavior (Vol. 22, pp. 1–63). Elsevier. Retrieved from http://linkinghub.elsevi er.com/retrieve/pii/S0065345408604040 Stieglitz, J., Gurven, M., Kaplan, H., & Winking, J. (2012). Infidelity, jealousy, and wife abuse among Tsimane forager–farmers: testing evolutionary hypotheses of marital conflict. Evolution and Human Behavior, 33(5), 438–448. http://doi.org/10.1016/j.evolhumbehav.2011.12.006 Stieglitz, J., Kaplan, H., Gurven, M., Winking, J., & Tayo, B. V. (2011). Spousal violence and paternal disinvestment among Tsimane’ forager-horticulturalists. American Journal of Human Biology, 23(4), 445–457. http://doi.org/10.1002/ajhb.21149 Trivers, R. L. (1972). Parental investment and sexual selection. In B. M. Campbell (Ed.), Sexual Selection and the Descent of Man, 1871-1971 (pp. 136–179). Chicago: Aldine.

Wilson, M. I., & Daly, M. (1996). Male Sexual Proprietariness and Violence against Wives. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 5(1), 2–7.

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ARCHAEOLOGY

ARCH2056 B r i t o n s a n d Ro m a n s : A rc h a e o l o g y o f t h e We s t e r n Ro m a n E m p i re

By Amelia O’Donnell

Th e Ro m a n l e g i o n a r i e s w e re d r a w n f r o m a l l ove r t h e Ro m a n E m p i re. I s i t p o s s i b l e t o i d e n t i f y ex p re s s i o n s o f n a t a l e t h n i c i t y w i t h i n m i l i t a r y c o n t ex t s in Britain or did militar y membership become the focus of soldiers’ ethnic identity?

The Roman conquest of Britain is held to have influenced substantial changes in the social and cultural identities of the native Britons, and the Roman army is argued to have played a key role in driving these changes (Eckardt 2005: 5; Gardner 1999: 403). Yet the Roman army’s expansion into Britain would have also had an effect on the social and cultural identities of its milites, who came from all over the Roman Empire to serve in the new, and foreign province of Britannia (Kampen 2006: 132; Olson 2013: 4). The construction of identity is a complex and multifaceted process but it is popularly believed that the everyday structures of the Roman military machine constructed a cohesive, communal identity from its multi-ethnic soldiers (Eckardt 2005: 4; Haynes 1999a, b; MacMullen 1984; James 2001: 79). The concept of the Roman army as a “community” (Haynes 1999a, b) or “society” (MacMullen 1984) draws on Bourdieu’s (1977) notion of habitus but the processes employed in the construction of this common identity can also be argued to have fostered an army-based sense of shared ethnicity (Jones 1997: 84). If a collective ethnic identity was nurtured

by the Roman army this begs the question as to whether the structures of the Roman military machine allowed its multi-backgrounded soldiers to continue to express elements of their natal ethnic identities, or, whether the fostering of an army-based ethnicity became the focus of a travelling soldier’s identity (Bourdieu 1977: 72; Lucy 2005: 96; Petts 1998: 72). In this essay I will explore the dichotomy of origin versus military-based ethnicity in relation to the Roman legions serving in Britain. Employing the evidence of the “official” distance stones of the Antonine Wall, elements of legionary dress, and cooking ceramics from early British military contexts, I will argue that the identity of the Roman legionary in Britain was “hybrid and multiple” (Eckardt 2005: 6) and, as such, both army-based and natal ethnic identities were practiced within the early military contexts of Britain.

The Roman army played an essential role in forging the history of the Roman state (Haynes 1999a: 7).

The army comprised of permanent contingents, the legions, auxillia, guards, and fleet, which were distributed among the Rome’s frontier prov-

inces to perform both military and civil duties but the legion was regarded as the most significant constituent of the Roman military machine (James 2001: 78; MacMullen 1984: 445). The legions were defined on basis of their recruits, men of citizen status, as opposed to the non-citizens in the auxillia, and during the Roman occupation of Britain these citizen men were enlisted from Rome’s provinces (fig. 1) to serve a 25-year term in the legions (Pollard & Berry 2012: 34, 36; Malone 2006: 186-187; Kampen 2006: 132). A Roman legion comprised of 4,800 men, who were arranged into 10 cohorts made up of 6 centuries of 80 men each, and these centuries were again broken down into groups of 8 men known as contubernia (Pollard & Berry 2012: 36). Additionally, a legion could be split into temporary vexillations of 1000 to 2000 men to perform multiple duties over the province in which it was serving (Pollard & Berry 2012: 37). Although the division of the Roman army into smaller units does mirror modern military practices James (2001: 78) argues that the Romans considered their army as a “class of men” not an institution. The Roman legionary recruit then had to negotiate his identiWINTER 2016 | 30

ARCHAEOLOGY

F i g u re 1 : T h e e x p a n s i o n o f R o m e f ro m 4 4 B C t o A D 11 7 (vanRossen Classical Studies 2016)

ty, whether natal or otherwise, through differing levels of social interaction and this has led many to suggest that the official structures of the Roman army assisted in promoting cohesion among its men (James 2001: 79).

One of the key concepts within the scholarship that explores the socio-cultural workings of the Roman army is notion that the official structures of the army aimed to create a cohesive “community” or “society” of its ranks (Haynes 1999a, b; MacMullen 1984: 440; James 2001: 77).

Both MacMullen (1984) and Haynes (1999b) argue that mandatory participation in the Roman religious calendar, use of Latin as the official language of the army, and membership in military social clubs would have had a drastic impact upon the cultural identity of a recruit through their indoctrination into a (probably) foreign yet definably martial mode of practice. Additionally, James (2001: 79-85) suggests that other everyday practices like training, dress, and even the standardised layout of Roman military settlements would have functioned as normative pressures to draw these men into a community of prac-

tice, thus shifting a soldier’s cultural identity more in line with his fellows than those outside the Roman military sphere. This enculturation of soldiers into the Roman army way of life served a recognisably utilitarian purpose as it ensured military units, like the legions, would function in a unified manner during combat, or other high-pressure situations, and, I would suggest, this cohesion would have played an important role in drawing legionaries together when they were transferred to a new province, like Britannia (MacMullen 1984: 455; Petts 1998: 71-72; Jones 1997: 91).

The argument that the structures of Roman army fostered a communal identity draw upon Bourdieu’s (1977) theorisation of habitus and this concept of habitus also serves to define the created identity of the Roman army in line with recent archaeological definitions of ethnicity (Jones 1997: 84).

Bourdieu (1977) defined habitus as the internalised cognitive structures of an individual, i.e. thoughts, habits, ways of understanding, etc., which are representative of the external structure/s through which

an individual has been socialised, such as, family, culture, and education. The habitus of an individual connects them to their wider social sphere, which is governed by certain rules, and dictates their place within it, thus, if an individual’s habitus aligns with the values of their social sphere this social sphere and the individual within in it will function successfully (Bourdieu 1977). Hence, when Haynes (1999a, b), MacMullen (1984), and James (2001) speak of the Roman army creating a community through the soldiers’ participation its official structures they are describing the way in which these external structures conditioned the habitus of its soldiers towards a form more conducive for the army’s success (Bourdieu 1977). This manipulation of an individual soldiers’ habitus to reinforce the army’s values is important when considering how these soldiers would have conceived their own identity as such ideas are also reflected in the construction of ethnicity (Jones 1997: 84; Jones 2008: 327). Jones (1997: 84) defines an ethnic group as: “culturally ascribed identity groups, which are based in the expression of a real or assumed shared culture and common descent (usually through the objectification of cultural, linguistic, religious, historical and /or physical characteristics)” (Jones 1997: 84). Therefore, a soldier’s involvement in tradition-based structures of the Roman army, like the participation in religious festivals and modes of dress, would have assisted in building a habitus that saw him connected to a culture system that he not only shared with his comrades but also those who had served before him (i.e. a military-based ethnic group), which, in turn, was in opposition to those not indoctrinated into the military system (Bourdieu 1977; Jones 1997: 84; Jones 2008: 327; Kampen 2006: 128). This means that a legionary’s identity would have been constructed upon multiple ethnicities, however, it is generally agreed that WINTER 2016 | 31

ARCHAEOLOGY certain elements of identity will come to prominence in different contexts and, as such, the transfer of legions to Britain would have undeniably had an impact on the way soldiers expressed their ethnic connections (Jones 1997: 91; Lucy 2005: 97, 100; Petts 1998: 72).

The Roman army was brought to Britain by Claudius in 43 AD and four legions likely served in the invasion force including: II Augusta, IX Hispana, XIV Gemina (which was replaced in c.60AD by II Adiutrix) and XX Valeria Victrix with the VI Victrix transferred to Britain in c.AD122 (Pollard & Berry 2012). Once established the legions actively served to expand Rome’s hold over the new province of Britannia by establishing ten “permanent” fortresses in the region, which were periodically settled until their withdrawal in the 4th century AD (fig. 2) (Pollard & Berry 2012: 82-83; Malone 2006: 40). Not only had these legions been brought to Britain from different locations in the empire, for example, the II Augusta was transferred from the Rhineland, whereas, the IX Hispana came from Pannonia (around modern Hungary), but the men that made up their ranks were themselves drawn from different locations (Malone 2006: 37). For example, Malone’s (2006: 186-187) study of the XX Valeria Victrix found that this legion’s men were recruited from Italy, France, Spain, Germany and Austria. The movement of the legions, along with the Roman army’s widespread recruitment, would have impacted on the way these soldiers connected with the wider world and thus the way they expressed their identity (Petts 1998: 72; Eckardt 2005: 5).

Still, it must be remembered that the Roman legions did not act in a socio-cultural vacuum as even in far way Britain a legionary still came into contact with local people, the civilians, perhaps from their own region, who travelled with the army, and, as

the letters from Vindolanda illustrate, the legionary was able to keep in contact with their family back home (James 2001; Gardner 1999: 405; Bowman & Thomas (eds.) 2003).

Nevertheless, it can be assumed that the army-based ethnicity would have been the most accessible and contextually relevant element of a legionary’s identity when serving in Britain, as such, I will now explore the material evidence of “official” and more personal expressions of identity from early military contexts in Britain in order to show that the ethnic military identity, formed by the manipulation of habitus, did become a focus of a British legionary’s identity but natal ethic identities were also able to be expressed and practiced within the military’s structures (Curta 2007: 183).

F i g u re 2 : L o c a t i o n o f l e g i o n a r y f o r t re s s e s i n B r i t a i n ( P o l l a rd & B e r r y 2 0 1 2 : 8 4 )

As seen above, the “official” workings of the Roman army influenced and reinforced martial ethnicity within its milites and the construction of the Antonine Wall is one such project that aimed to reinforce a cohesive military identity in Britain (Kampen 2006: 128; Malone 2006: 8).

The Antonine Wall (see fig. 2) was constructed from 140AD to 143AD by vexillations of the Second, Sixth and Twentieth legions (Kampen 2006: 125). Due to its short use history, approximately 25 years, the Antonine Wall remained earthen except for the carved, stone-slab distance markers erected by the vexillations (Kampen 2006: 125). Made of local sandstone, the Antonine Wall slabs measure from 60cm to 120cm in height and all are engraved with an inscription honouring the emperor, naming the vexillation’s legion, and denoting the specific distance of wall they constructed (Kampen 2006: 125). In addition, some slabs are also carved with natural and figurative images, which often include the symbol of the legion (fig.

3) (Kampen 2006: 125-127). Even though each legion of the Roman army had its own symbol, which were either zodiac signs, mythological creatures, or animals with “soldierly” attributes, such as the boar of XX Valeria Victrix (fig. 3), and although Lucy (2005: 96) suggests that such symbols would have acted as one of the “most powerful ways to reproduce feelings of ethnic belonging”, Kampen (2006) contends that the use of these symbols is not the most meaningful form of identity expression represented in the Antonine Wall stones with the style of the friezes argued to be “just as productive of identities as motif and iconography” (Kampen 2006: 128).

Kampen (2006) insists that although the stones are often seen to be unskilled imitations of the fine Hellenistic-style monuments found in the Mediterranean, the figurative work of the Antonine slabs were purposefully created to be generic to reflect the style and type of imagery the legionaries were accustomed to seeing in their provincial homelands (Kampen 2006: 134). The duality of identity reinforcement that can be seen in the Antonine distance slabs presents an interesting insight into the way identity was expressed within the structures of the WINTER 2016 | 32

ARCHAEOLOGY British Roman legions. For, even though the stones represent an “official” form of habitus reinforcement, especially through their use of legionary symbols, for example, all but one of the surviving complete stones of the Twentieth legion are carved with a boar (fig. 3), the generic style employed in their carving illustrates that there was some understating that natal ethnicity still played a role in shaping a legionary’s’ identity (Curta 2007: 160; Kampen 2006). Although this official form of identity expression encompasses both martial and natal ethnic identities it seems that the representation of ethnic identity through legionary dress was less dualistic (Bishop & Coulston 1993).

Dress is a key signifier of identity as it serves to convey the wearer’s values and connections but dress is also influenced by wider, culturally-driven ideas and expectations (Lucy 2005: 96-97; Curta 2007: 175). The archaeological classification of certain dress items as “military” within the context of Roman Britain would suggest that the Roman legionary was differently garbed to the Romano-British civilian, however, the reality of this difference was minimal as the Roman army did not have a standardised “uniform” and the milites purchased their own kit meaning their dress, in most non-combat circumstance, likely reflected the general fashions of the period (Bishop 1991: 21; Bishop & Coulston 1993: 196, 202; Coulston 1998: 175). Even so, the waist-belt is generally accepted to be a military form of dress as these items were used to suspend and display bladed weapons, which was a practice generally only allowed to military personnel under Roman law (Hoss 2012: 29-30; Coulston 1998: 184). Waist-belts were constructed with a leather base, which was reinforced with highly decorated metal belt-plates, and also had other metal fittings such as a buckle and frogs to

hold weapons (Bishop & Coulston 1993: 96-98). The fact that waist-belts were highly decorative items of personal property means they were likely employed to express the identity of its wearer (Coulston 1998: 184; Bishop & Coulston 1993: 196). Moreover, Hoss (2012: 43) proposes that a waist-belt was accepted as legionary gear the basis of function, not decoration, and, as such, the belt-plates could have served to express an individual’s own personal identity, including their natal ethnicity, however, this does not seem to be the case in Britain (Coul-

ston 1998: 175; Bishop & Coulston 1993: 98; 197).

From their study of Roman military equipment Bishop and Coulston (1993) found that early belt-plates in Britain were generally narrow in form and decorated in niello meaning military men would have displayed some form of visual cohesion through their dress (Bishop 1992). Conversely, the distribution of embossed belt-plates (fig. 4) dating to the earliest period of Roman occupation in Britain is limited to the south and south-west

F i g u re 3 : S t o n e - s l a b s o f l e g i o X X f ro m t h e A n t o n i n e Wa l l (Malone 2006: 59).

WINTER 2016 | 33

ARCHAEOLOGY of the region which was under the control of legio II Augusta from 43AD and Bishop and Coulston (1993: 98, 197) suggest that these embossed belt-plates represent the expression of a cohesive identity characteristic of the Second legion (Bishop & Coulston 1993: 98, 197). The cohesive style present in military belt-plates from Britain demonstrate that although a legionary could technically express any facet of his identity though this form of everyday dress, a clear choice was made to employ the belt-plate as a vehicle martial connectedness, which, at least in the conquest period appears to have been legion-based (Bishop 1992; Bishop & Coulston 1993: 98, 197). Yet there is an issue in interpreting belt-plates as an articulation of martial ethnicity because, as Eckardt (2005: 55) contends, these items are not necessarily interpreted as military equipment when found outside of military contexts in Britain, however, another element of the legionary’s costume also presents a similar focus on army-based ethnicity (Bishop 1991; Bishop 1992; James 2001: 83; Olson 2013).

As a legionary had to purchase their own gear the act of personalisation, including the labelling of ownership, was common practice but military equipment was also subject to recycling with gear redis-

F i g u re 5 : T h a m e s H e l m e t n e c k g u a rd p e r s o n a l i s e d with names of owners (Olson 2013: 14).

tributed among a unit’s ranks meaning personalised pieces of kit, like legionary helmets, could be handed down from one soldier to another (Coulston 1998: 175; Olson 2013: 17). Olson (2013) suggests that the personalisation of military equipment, which a soldier probably knew would be redistributed to another on his death or retirement, was a form of self-driven commemorative practice with legionary helmets the perfect vehicle for such practices as the neck guards of these helmets were shaped in a way that would outwardly display anything inscribed upon them. The neck guard of a 1st century Coolus-type helmet recovered from the Thames represents one such example of personalisation of equipment being employed as a form of commemoration (Olson 2013: 13-16). The outer face of the “Thames Helmet” neck guard is inscribed with the names of at least four individuals

F i g u re 4 : B e l t p l a t e d i s t r i b u t i o n i n c l u d i n g “ I I Augusta” belt-plates (Bishop & Coulston 1993: 96)

who wished to associate themselves with this piece of equipment and each other (fig. 5) (Olson 2013: 14-16). The “Thames Helmet” shows that legionaries in Britain drew on their connection to their predecessors, who possibly served in same century or wider community of cohort or legion, as a focus of their everyday identity (Olson 2013: 17; Lucy 2005: 98). It could be argued that the strong connection to martial identity reflected in the “Thames Helmet” and belt-plates could relate to the fact that these items were a part of the structure involved in socialising a military habitus meaning it may not have been appropriate for other forms of ethnic expression to have manifested on these items (James 2001: 79-85). Nevertheless, I would suggest that these dress elements were significant for everyday identity recognition and reinforcement and so, although the identity the represented by this form of material culture may have been the product of normative pressures, the legionary still felt a strong connection to their constructed army-based ethnicity (James 2001: 79-85). Even though the structure of the Roman army held an important place in the creation and expression of identity within Britain’s legions it does appear that the expression of local ethnic identity through cuisine was an acceptable practice within the structure of the Roman army in Britain (Swan 1992; Swan 2009).

Figure 5: Thames Helmet neck guard WINTER 2016 | 34

ARCHAEOLOGY personalised with names of owners (Olson 2013: 14).

Foodways and cuisines articulate and reinforce difference between communities and in Britain and the other Roman provinces different ceramic cooking vessels were employed in regionally distinct cuisine practices (Lucy 2005: 87; Swan 2009: 15; Swan 1992). The Roman army did have its own culinary practice based around the simple carinated, ceramic bowl, which was mass produced in military workshops and formed part of the standard military kit of a soldier (Swan 2009: 33). Yet, British military sites do yield evidence of foreign cooking ceramics and one of the most significant foreign vessel types in the context of the early Roman period is the tripod-vessel (Swan 1992: 3; Swan 2009: 51). Tripod vessels are thought to have originated around Austria and Hungary during the 1st Century BC and soon spread to southern and central Gaul (Swan 2009). Tripod-vessel represents a cooking style that was significantly different to that used in the northern provinces as instead of planting bowls or jars in hot ash, the vessel sat higher in the fire and the “legs” (fig. 6) allowed the vessel to

heat quickly meaning they were a faster method of cooking (Swan 1992: 3; Swan 2009: 18, 24). Swan (2009: 30-31) states that tripod-vessel in Britain are “uncommon but widespread” with all but two post-dating 43AD with most evidence for these vessel coming from sites with military associations (fig. 7). The earliest tripod-vessels are recorded from the initial phases of Roman legionary activity at Colchester and Caerleon with the vessels from these sites showing direct parallels with the types found in the south-west of Gaul (fig.

6), thus Swan (2009: 31, 51) argues these tripod-vessels were brought to Britain during the invasion by legionaries recruited from Gaul (Swan 2009: 52-55). Interestingly, tripod-vessels were also made in the early legionary kilns, by legionary potters with “Gaulish” affinities, until the 2nd century AD when the vessels are no longer present in British assemblages (Swan 2009: 52- 56). Although Malone (2006: 60) argues that the culinary preference of a legionary had little to do with their natal ethnic identities, the small number of the tripod-vessels in Britain and the fact they occur mainly in military contexts lends weigh to the argument that tripod-vessels represent

F i g u re 6 : Tr i p o d - v e s s e l s f ro m B r i t a i n a n d Continental parallels (Swan 2009: 38)

legionaries practicing their natal ethnic cuisine (Eckardt 2005: 35; Swan 2009: 15). James (2001: 80, 85-86) suggests that soldiers were able to express their natal ethnic identities through culinary practices because such domestic matters were not the concern of the Roman military structure, and yet, the very fact that tripod vessels were being produced in legionary kilns with the “official” military ceramics illustrates that the expression of a non-military-based ethnicity was possible and the soldiers of the Roman legions in Britain did express aspects of their natal identities along with their constructed military ethnic identity (James 2001: 79-85; Lucy 2005: 97; Eckardt 2005: 27).

The identity of the Roman legionary in Britain was “hybrid and multiple” (Eckardt 2005: 6) with both military and natal ethnicities expressed within the military contexts of early Roman-period Britain.

Although the Roman legions were recruited from all over the Roman provinces the everyday structures of the army acted to influence the habitus of these men to form a successful army community, which paralleled the modern definition of an ethnic group

F i g u re 7 : D i s t r i b u t i o n o f t r i p o d - v e s s e l s in Britain (Swan 2009: 32) WINTER 2016 | 35

ARCHAEOLOGY (Haynes 1999a, b; MacMullen 1984; James 2001: 79; Bourdieu 1977; Jones 1997: 84). The multi-ethnic legionnaires sent to serve in the new and foreign province of Britannia, although not cut off from the world, did rely on their connection to the Roman military community but this did not become the sole focus of their identity (Malone 2006; James 2001; Gardner 1999: 405; Curta 2007: 183).

The stone slabs of the Antonine Wall were carved in a generic fashion, which not only reinforced a cohesive, “official” military identity in its viewers but also served to connect them with a familiar visual element of their home land thus indicating the recognition of the duality of legionary’s identity within the army structure (Curta 2007: 160; Kampen 2006). The homogenous style of military belt-plates and the commemorative personalisation of the “Thames Helmet” illustrate a strong affiliation to the martial ethnicity was present within the British legions (Bishop & Coulston 1993: 98, 197; Olson 2013).

Yet the distribution and location of tripod-vessels within early military contexts in Britain suggests that these objects were brought to and made in Britain by legionaries who continued to practice an aspect of their natal identity and thus the structure of the Roman army, although concerned with creating a cohesive identity among its men, did allow for the performance of other ethnic identities in its legions (Swan 2009; Lucy 2005: 97; Eckardt 2005: 27). From the evidence presented it is clear that the identity of a Roman legionary was a hybrid of ethnic practices from different habitus affecting social spheres and, as such, the Roman legionaries in Britain actively expressed their ethnic connections to both the Roman military structure and their natal homelands (Eckardt 2005: 27; Jones 1997: 84).

References

Bishop, M.C. 1991. “Soldiers and Military Equipment in the Towns of Roman Britain.” In Maxfield, V.A. and Dobson, M.J. (eds.), Roman Frontier Studies 1989: Proceedings of the XVth International Congress of Frontier Studies. Exeter University Press, Exeter, pp. 21-27.

Bishop, M.C. 1992. “Early Enamelled Belt Plates from Britain.” Arma, Vol. 4, No. 2, pp. 17-19.

Bishop, M.C. & Coulston, J.C.N. 1993. Roman Military Equipment: From the Punic Wars to the Fall of Rome. B.T. Batsford Ltd, London.

Bourdieu, P. 1977. Outline of a Theory of Practice, translated R. Nice, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Bowman, A.K. & Thomas, J.D. (eds.) 2003. The Vindolanda Writing-Tablets Volume III (Tabulae Vindolandenses III), The British Museum Press, London.

Coulston, J.C.N. 1998. “How to Arm a Roman Soldier.” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies , Vol. 42, S. 71., pp. 167-190.

Curta, F. 2007. “Some Remarks on Ethnicity in Medieval Archaeology.” Early Medieval Europe, Vol. 15, No. 2, pp. 159-185.

Eckardt, H. 2005. Objects and Identities: Roman Britain and the North-Western Provinces.

Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Gardner, A. 1999. “Military Identities in Late Roman Britain.” Oxford Journal of Archaeology, Vol.18, No. 4, pp. 403-418.

Haynes, I. 1999a. “Introduction: The Roman Army as a Community.” In Goldsworthy, A. and Haynes, I. (eds.), The Roman Army as a Community, Journal of Roman Archaeology, Portsmouth, pp. 7-14.

Haynes, I. 1999b. “Military Service and Cultural Identity in the Auxilia.” In Goldsworthy, A. and Haynes, I. (eds.), The Roman Army as a Community, Journal of Roman Archaeology, Portsmouth, pp. 165-174.

Hoss, S. 2012. “The Roman Military Belt.” In Nosch, M.L. (ed.) Wearing the Cloak: Dressing the Soldier in Roman Times, Oxbow Books, Oxford, pp. 29-44.

James, S. 2001. “Soldiers and Civilians: Identity and Interaction in Roman Britain.” In James, S. & Millett, M. (eds.), Britons and Romans: Advancing an Archaeological Agenda, Council for British Archaeology, York, pp. 77-90.

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Routledge, London.

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Kampen, N.B. 2006. “The Art of Soldiers on a Roman Frontier.” D’Ambra, E. & Mètraux, G.P.R. (eds.) The Art of Citizens, Soldiers and Freedmen in the Roman World, Archaeo press, Oxford, pp. 125-134.

Lucy, S. 2005. “Ethnic and Cultural Identities.” In Diaz-Andrew, M., Lucy, S. Babić, S. and Edwards, D.N. (eds.), The Archaeology of Identity: Approaches to Gender, Age, Status, Ethnicity and Religion. Routledge, Abingdon, pp. 86-109.

MacMullen, R. 1984. “The Legion as a Society.” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, Vol. 33, No. 4, pp. 440-456.

Malone, S.J. 2006. Legio XX Valeria Victirx: Prosopography, Archaeology and History. Archaeo press, Oxford.

Olson, B.R. 2013. “Roman Infantry Helmets and Commemoration among Soldiers.” Vulcan, Vol. 1, No. 1, pp. 3-19.

Petts, D. 1998. “Landscape and Cultural Identity in Roman Britain.” in Lawrence, R. & Berry, J. (eds.), Cultural Identity in the Roman Empire. Routledge, London, pp. 79- 94.

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Swan, V.G. 1992. “Legio VI and its Men: African Legionnaires in Britain.” Journal of Roman Pottery Studies, Vol. 5, pp. 1-33.

Swan, V. 2009. Ethnicity, Conquest and Recruitment: Two Case Studies from the Northern Military Provinces, Journal of Roman Archaeology, Portsmouth. vanRossen Classical Studies 2016. Roman Empire Expansion Map for Caesar, Augustus and then Trajan, accessed 27 May 2016, https://vanrossenclassicalstudies.wikispaces.com/ Roman+Empire+expansion+Map+for+Caesar,+Augustus+and+then+Trajan WINTER 2016 | 36

ARCHAEOLOGY

ARCH2005 Lapita Burial Practices: A C a s e S t u dy B y M e g Wa l k e r

The Lapita Burial Practice is a broad, diverse, and complicated mortuary process. By analysing the mortuary processes of this culture we are able to study the living through their treatment of the dead. Additionally, these stages, that occur around the time of and after death, are usually not one simple event but a layered process. To understand the burial process, different elements of the grave and the human remains are examined. For inhumation burials, the grave, grave orientation, body arrangement, single or multiple burial, secondary or primary burial, skeletal markers, adornment of the body, grave goods, and site organisation are analysed in detail (Parker Pearson, 2003). By doing so, we can understand more about social differences and organisation, changes over time, human sacrifice, ideas regarding gender, and other factors of their society (Parker Pearson, 2003). By analysing the mortuary processes at the site Teouma on the Island of Efate, Vanuatu, we are given an insight into the society and lives of the Lapita peoples.

The Lapita culture covers the region from the Bismarck archipelago to Tonga/Samoa. Our current understanding suggests the culture is seen from 3,350 BP in the Western region and 3,000-2,900 BP in the eastern

region (Burley 2007; Specht 2007).

The signature distribution of this culture is denoted by the dentate stamped pottery (Bedford and Sand 2007). Overall, this culture disappears around 2,800-2,500 BP throughout the region (Bedford and Sand 2007).

Although there have been other mortuary sites relating to the Lapita culture, they only provide a small sample of individuals for analysis. Therefore, there is still a lack of knowledge concerning their mortuary practices across the region.

Teouma, Vanuatu The site of Teouma on the south coast of Efate, Vanuatu has filled in many of these gaps surrounding the mortuary processes of the Lapita culture. The cemetery dates from 3,000 BP to no later than 2,500 BP based on direct dating of skeletal remains and through the presence of Lapita dentate pottery (Bedford et al.

2010). Although currently located 8m above sea level, 800m from the sea, the site was once a former beach terrace located on a low promontory bounded by the sea to the west.

Currently, the site it used as a cattle farm (Bedford et al. 2006). The Lapita associated burials were found in 2 interconnected but different environs, the beach and the uplifted reef flats.

The burials found in the beach

required one to dig through the coral rubble surface and a coral boulder was placed over the shallow grave. The reef flats required one to dig through the tephra deposits to form solution holes within the coral where the individual was placed. On one occasion a body was laid on the reef flats directly.

Overall, 68 Mortuary contexts were discovered with a total of 91 individuals represented. The individuals excavated were typically adults and infants as there is a general absence of children and sub-adults at the site. Although, 1 child and 1 adolescent were found (Valentin et al.

2011). There is great variation in orientation of the burials (Valentin et al. 2010), possibly suggesting differences in social status, gender, or potentially nothing and orientation may be due to the formation of the reef. Overall, the current evidence suggests that there were at least 59 inhumation burials, 1 cremation, 3 (potentially 5) jar burials, and many bone collections (Valentin et al. 2015).

The Isotopic analysis of 17 individuals shows that the majority of individuals were born, raised, and buried in the Teouma region. However, 4 individuals were probably immigrants and are seemingly treated differently within the site (Bentley et al. 2007).

WINTER 2016 | 37

ARCHAEOLOGY The Mortuary Process From the analysis of the site and human remains, four phases were determined: body preparation, inhumation, exhumation, and bone collections and deposits (Valentin et al.

2010). The initial preparation stage of the mortuary process was determined based on the analysis of the spatial distribution and position of the bones in the grave (Valentin et al. 2010).

There is evidence to shows that in several cases the knees were forced into an unnatural flexed position. This forced flexion could be due to the cutting of tendons and ligaments around the knee pre-decomposition, or the wrenching of partially decomposed flesh. Due to the level of articulation of the bones in the feet, we know that this manipulation was not done after skeletonisation (Valentin et al. 2010). The reason for this body manipulation is still undetermined, but one could hypothesise that it is potentially due to the need to fit into the natural dimensions of the coral pits.

Another event that potentially occurs at the initial stage included restricting the body and separating it from the soil (Valentin et al. 2010).

This was seen as the bones were restricted and able to decompose uninhibited by soil. The bones were allowed to fall naturally and were not in their original position at the time of inhumation as one would expect if they were surrounded by soil from the beginning. This may have been achieved through the use of a container and/or wrapping of the individual.

To separate the body from the soil, the material used to wrap the individual would decompose at a slower rate than the individual and therefore would allow the individual to reach skeletonisation uninhibited. This could include pandas matting. Additionally, a container could simply be a grave dug to the specific dimensions of an individual, causing the individual to be

restricted (Valentin et al. 2010). A possible scenario may have been the absence of soil in the grave during decomposition with the coral lid protecting the body. In this situation, only a restrictive space, not a wrapper, would be needed to achieve the spatial distribution of the bones.

The next stage, inhumation, was a very important and structured process. This assumption is based on three pieces of evidence. Firstly, the positioning of many individuals facilitated the future removal of bones. The torso was propped up to provide access to the upper torso in some individuals whilst others who were positioned on the front had their head and neck propped up backwards (Figure 1)(Valentin et al. 2010).

Secondly, limb positions vary significantly and it is suggested that the absence of pattern may indicate a range of social factors expressed in sex-dependent variation. Valentin et al (2010) suggest that as men have not been seen in a fully extended position, apposed to women, there is a differentiation between sexes. However, many other factors such may have caused

this mortuary feature. Such explanations could include the sheer size of men who may not have been able to fit into the solution holes of the coral reef. The last reason they suggest is based on the care of the final infilling and the placement of grave goods.

This placement of grave goods shows that this space is dualistic in nature. A temporary place for body transformation and a definitive place of memory (Valentin et al. 2010) The exhumation phase was another major and important stage in this mortuary process. This event occurred some time after inhumation, yet, this time cannot be determined (Valentin et al. 2010). Exhumation is marked by 3 main events, the removal of specific bones, reogranisation of bones (one case), and the addition of new elements (Valentin et al. 2010).

As mentioned previously, individuals were placed in positions where specific bones could be removed during this stage. These mainly included the cranium, mandible, forearms, clavicles, and sternum. Although the humeri, sternum, ribs, and metacarpals were also in some cases removed.

F I g u re 1 : E x a m p l e o f b o d y p o s i t i o n a t Te o u m a : b u r i a l d i s t r i b u t i o n a n d p o s s i b l e b o d y p o s i t i o n . ( Va l e n t i n e t a l . 2 0 1 0 ) WINTER 2016 | 38

ARCHAEOLOGY Figure 2 provides the percentage of individual bones found in the mortuary context. In all adult cases, the craniums were removed. However, other bones were removed on an individual level and thus may have been influenced by social conventions and/or change over time (Valentin et al. 2010). Another suggestion that may explain this inconsistency in bone removal is that the individuals were at different stages of decomposition during exhumation (Valentin et al.

2010). Evidence for this includes 7 cases in which the absence of the first cervical vertebrae could suggest accidental removal with the skull.

Additionally, these individuals are missing more bones than others, sometimes entire limb segments (Valentin et al. 2010). This could suggest multiple possibilities: potentially there was no social rule surrounding time between inhumation and exhumation, maybe the timing was regulated but F i g u re 2 : P e rc e n t a g e re p re s e n t a t i o n o f the time wasn’t adapted to the local p re s e n t s k e l e t a l e l e m e n t s , 2 0 m o r t u a r y c o n t e x t s ( Va l e n t i n e t a l . 2 0 1 0 ) environmental conditions, or lastly, this process was a community practice The last stage, bone collecwhere the exhumation stage occurred tions and the deposition of bones, is at periodic and regular intervals and found in many instances over the was not an individual practice (Valen- cemetery. These collections are comtin et al. 2010). prised of the bones typically removed from the graves and are apparently Grave goods and additional associated with other burials (Bedford elements are most likely placed into et al. 2009). Overall, only Seven cranithe grave at this stage. These elements ums were found at the site. Three of include 3 (potentially 5) jar burials these were found over the chest of one associated with male inhumations adult who interestingly immigrated to (Valentin et al. 2015), highly decorat- the site based on the isotope results ed Lapita pots scattered (potentially (Bedford et al. 2006; Bentley et al. due to ritualistic activities), Conus 2007). The origins of these bones is shell rings under jar burials and associ- still unknown and many theories have ated with the region where the cranium been developed. It is possible that would have been, rare conus shell bones collected from the site were bracelets found on the ankles of the curated and then positioned back into only adolescent, and large mangrove the cemetery. Conversely, it should bivalve sometimes placed around the also be considered that the remains pelvis and knee regions (Valentin et al. were brought from different site across 2010). These grave goods are still the region and deposited at the unanalysed but may provide insight Teouma cemetery (Valentin et al. into the ideas of childhood, the skull, 2010). To determine this association, and social status within society. pair matching must be conducted across the cemetery. Nonetheless, the

current thought is that these bones are being curated away from the cemetery or used for other purposes. Human remains found at the Lapita habitation site on Eloaua in the Massau Islands matches the removed bone record seen at Teouma (Kirch et al. 1989). These have been interpreted as ancestral relics stored in houses. Other instances report Human radii being transformed into tools at the Tongan Lapita site Tongatapu (Storey 2001). These two examples are to show that these bone elements have the potential to be used further within the community. However, more excavations of habitation sites in the region are important to understand this correlation in greater detail.

Overall, this complex mortuary process suggests that the dead are not placed in the ground on an individual level to be left for eternity. Death is possibly a process of transition where individuals remained involved in the community life (Valentin et al. 2010).

Therefore, their role and importance within the community may continue through the curation of an individual’s bones. However, this cannot be determined without further research and debate. This research may provide an insight into how the society views children and infants, social structure, idea of gender.

From this knowledge, we also understand the changes in practices over time. By comparing this funerary process to those associated with post-Lapita, 1st millennium, and 2nd millennium burials in Vanuatu, studies have shown that there were two major changes in mortuary practices (Valentin et al. 2011). It should be noted that the comparative samples used are small and the full chronology of the sites is still unknown. The first change occurred at the end of the Lapita Period and it is thus most applicable to this report. The complex body treatment seen at Teouma is replaced by a WINTER 2016 | 39

ARCHAEOLOGY simpler inhumation stage by c. 2800 BP where body positions and orientation become standardized (Valentin et al. 2011). This change has been hypothesized to show the changing relationship with the dead and thus with society. The society now looks at death on an individual level instead of ancestor rituals and thus shows the transition from a process of transformation to that of an event of deposition (Valentin et al. 2011). This change also coincides with the end of the identifiable Lapita period (Spriggs 1997).

The dilution of the original super-community, who depended on the interaction with other similar small maritime communities, and the increase in cultural diversification is highlighted in the change of mortuary practices. Mortuary practices move towards the individual as the Lapita peoples may highlight a self-sufficient local economy.

References

Bedford, S. & Sand. C. 2007. Lapita and Western Pacific Settlement: Progress, prospects and persistent problems. S. Bedford, C. Sand, and S. Connaughton (eds.) In Oceanic Explorations: Lapita and western Pacific Settlement. Pp. 1-15.

Canberra: ANU E-press, Terra Australis 26 Bedford, S., Spriggs, M. & Regenvanu, R. 2006. The Teouma Lapita site and the early human settlement of the Pacific Islands. Antiquity, vol. 89, issue 310, pp.

812-828 Bedford, D., Spriggs, M., Buckley, H., Valentin, F. & Regenvanu, R. 2009. The Teouma Lapita site, South Efate, Vanuatu: a summary of three field seasons (2004-2006), in Sheppard, P., Thomas, T. & Summerhayes, G. (eds), Lapita: Ancestors and decendants. Auckland: New Zealand Archaeological Association Monograph Series, pp. 215-234 Bedford, D., Spriggs, M., Buckley, H., Valentin, F., Regenvanu, R. & Abong, M. 2010.

Un cimetière de premier peiplement: les site de Teouma, Sud Efate, Vanuatu/ A Cemetery of First Settlement: the Site of Teouma, South Efate, Vanuatu, In Sand, C., & Bedford, S. (eds), Lapita: Ancêtres océanies/Oceanic ancestors.

Paris: Somogy Editions s’Art/Musée du Quai Branly, pp. 140-161 Bentley, A., Buckley, H., Spriggs, M., Bedford, S., Ottley, C., Nowell, G., Macpherson.

C & Pearson, D. 2007. Lapita migrants in the Pacific’s oldest cemetery: Isotopic analysis at Teouma, Vanuatu. American Antiquity, vol. 72, no. 4, pp.

645-656 Burley, D. V. 2007. In search of the Lapita and Polynesian Plainware settlements in Vava’u, Kingdom of Tonga. In Oceanic Explorations: Lapita and Western Pacific Settlement, eds. S. Bedford, C. Sand, & S. Connaughton, pp. 187-198.

Canberra, ANU Press, Terra Australis 26 Kirch, P. V., Swindler, D. R. & Turner II, C. G. 1989. Human skeletal and dental remains from Lapita sites (1600-500 B.C.) in the Mussau islands, Melanesia. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, vol. 79. Pp. 63-76 Parker Pearson, M.G. 2003. The Archaeology of Death and Burial. Stroud UK: Sutton Publishing Ltd. Specht, J. 2007. Small islands in the big picture: The formative period of Lapita in the Bismark Archipelago. In Oceanic Explorations: Lapita and Western Pacific Settlement, eds. S. Bedford, C. Sand, & S. Connaughton, pp. 51-70. Canberra, ANU Press, Terra Australis 26 Spriggs, M. 1997. The Island Melanesians. Oxford: Blackwell Storey, A. 2001. Can Tongan Cannibalism Be Substantiated by Archaeological Evidence? A Study of Human Remains from the Ha’apai Islands. M.A Thesis.

Burnaby: Simon Fraser University Valentin, F., Bedford, S., Buckley, H. R. & Spriggs, M. 2010. Lapita Burial Practices: Evidence for Complex Body and Bone Treatment at the Teouma Cemetery, Vanuatu Southwest Pacific. Journal of Island & Coastal Archaeology, vol. 5, pp. 212-235 Valentin, F., Spriggs, M., Bedford, S. & Buckley, H. 2011. Vanuatu Mortuary Practices over Three Mellennia: Lapita to the Early European Contact Period. Journal of Pacific Archaeology, vol. 2, no. 2, pp. 49-65 Valentin, F., Choi, J., Lin, H., Bedford, S. & Spriggs, M., 2015. Three-thou sand-year-old-jar-burials at the Teouma Cemetery (Vanuatu): A Southeast Asian – Lapita connection? In Christiophe Sand, Scarlett Chiu, Nicholas Hogg (ed.), The Lapita Cultural Complex in time and space: expansion routes, chronologies and typologies, Institut d'archeologie de la Nouvelle-Caledonie et du Pacifique and Center for Archaeological Studies, New Caledonia, pp. 81-101 WINTER 2016 | 40

C U LT U R A L H E R I TA G E

HUMN2000 H e r i t a ge a n d M u s e u m Studies: Alternate uses of h e r i t a ge

By Eleanor Lawless

M u s e u m a n d h e r i t a ge i n t e r p re t a t i o n h a s t r a d i t i o n a l l y b e e n d e f i n e d by i t s e d u c a t i o n a l a i m s . I s e d u c a t i o n t h e o n l y w a y t h a t m u s e u m s a n d h e r i t a ge s i t e s a re u s e d ? S h o u l d e d u c a t i o n b e t h e p r i m a r y c o n c e r n o f i n t e r p re t a t i o n ?

While museum and heritage interpretation has traditionally been defined by its educational aims, this is not, and should not be, the only way individuals and groups interact with these sites. Education, while an important as-pect, is not the only way that museums and heritage sites are used. Therefore, education should not be the pri-mary concern of interpretation. Museums and heritage sites have traditionally been viewed as places of knowledge and learning. This wisdom does not often come into question, especially the way selection and exclusion of objects determine the narrative of the history presented. In addition, museums and heritage sites may not present a multivocal approach to interpretation, thus excluding opinions and narratives of marginalised groups. The education presented through heritage may be biased (Chang and MacLeod 2012: 36). It is also important to analyse and unpack preconceived ideas of why people go to heritage sites. There exist a variety of ways people view and use heritage spaces. This essay will explore the differing uses of and approaches to her-itage including as a memorial, a

place to connect to family, due to political beliefs, for commemoration, as a way to be incorporated into a new country and citizenship, to remember and to have certain ideas about the world reinforced. Of special interest is the way heritage sites and museums have a large impact on the visitor’s sense of belonging, connection to place, and producing a self identity (Smith 2014: 3). Additionally, because education in museums has taken the most prominent position of interpretation, the visitor’s experience of being in the space and their emotional response to it is ignored. It is argued in this essay that both tangible and intan-gible heritage may be used as places of emotion and feeling.

‘ Th e t r a d i t i o n a l b e l i e f (...) witnesses museu m s a n d h e r i t a ge s i t e s t o b e p e rc e i ve d a n d upheld as educational institutions’ The traditional belief, stemming from the Nineteenth Century with the establishment of many Euro-

pean museums, witnesses museums and heritage sites to be perceived and upheld as educational institutions.

This belief still plays a significant role in the way museums function in today’s world in terms of the curator’s interpretation and the visitor’s expectations (Smith 2014: 4). The belief and idea that museums could educate people through developing the mind and moving the spirit was the founding philosophy of a range of western based museums and heritage sites including the British Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum (Hooper-Greenhill 1991: 6). The wider public still generally views museums as places of learning with this being a stereotypical view that prevails (Smith 2014: 4).

However, education is still an important aspect of museum and heritage interpretation through building connections with people and ideas and expanding knowledge. Thus museums and heritage sites when used as places of education have the ability to become places of diverse perspectives.

Wide groups of people including artists, researchers, the general public, histori-ans, curators and so forth are able to learn from each other. As a WINTER 2016 | 41

C U LT U R A L H E R I TA G E result new insights and understandings about the world are created (Duensing 1994: 17). However, while education is useful and important there are a varie-ty of other uses and possible interpretations of sites and therefore education should not be all-encompassing (Smith 2014: 1). Because of this, according to Hooper-Greenhill, museums are now re-thinking their pur-pose as learning sites as their identity and use changes. New ideas about culture and society are emerging with the continual reworking of the identity of museums (2007: 1). This offers the oppor-tunity to explore the alternate uses of heritage sites and museums as preconceived notions of interpre-tation and use shift away from education.

While museums and heritage sites may be valuable for their educational use, interpretation and display of mu-seums and heritage sites is inevitably bias. Heritage interpretation cannot be objective or neutral. This is due to the curator’s selection and exclusion of objects with the museum becoming a performative space.

Particular narratives of history are expressed through display, interpretation and inevitably the site’s education programs. Thus museums and heritage sites are organised and displayed in ways that create certain visual narratives about the history they are presenting. They may emphasis some aspects while ignoring others (Hooper-Greenhill 2007: 2). For example, the visitor experiences a certain construction of the world and history as they move through a museum display. This is witnessed at the British Museum in London where the display is organised and presented chronologically in a manner which speaks of the linear progression of time. As a result this dis-play uses a master narrative approach in which alternate ideas, groups of people or histories are not presented. Hooper-Greenhill argues

there is a need for more recognition of the role of museums in presenting a certain view of history and society (2007: 2).

Museums and heritage sites have traditionally been viewed as places of knowledge and learning, with this ingrained aura of wisdom not often coming into question. It is comforting for societies to view mu-seums and heritage sites as the upholders of truth and as safe places to be educated.

However, as explained previously, the education being presented will inevitably be biased. Even today heritage places are con-stantly visited by mass audiences who regard them as trustworthy in everything and the ideal of ob-jectivity (Lowenthal 2009: 19).

However, alternate narratives, opinions, ideas and marginalised groups may be ignored. This relates to the Authorised Heritage Discourse (AHD) the concept LauraJane Smith coined. It is a set of practices that defines the use of heritage in contemporary western societies (Harrison 2010: 2). The AHD is hegemonic as it values grand scale, age, and the judgements of scientific and aesthetic experts (Smith 2006: 11). It is born from a western elite class system presenting all that is ‘good’ and ‘great’ with a sanitised,

ing (Smith 2006: 12). As a result certain understandings about heritage have been excluded, including intangible heritage, marginalised groups and alternate narratives separate from the grand and positive accounts of history.

Through recognising the concept of the AHD Smith focuses on challenging the traditional western definitions of herit-age and unchallenged views of the past (Harrison 2010: 29). Ideally interpretation of museums and heritage sites shall begin to question the narratives being presented and thus more successfully educate visitors. As heritage education may not be trustworthy or present a multi-vocal approach, it is therefore appropri-ate to explore, recognise, and expand alternative uses of heritage. In addition this also strongly outlines why education should not be the primary concern of interpretation.

Visiting heritage sites has a large impact on a sense of identity and feelings of belonging and connection to place, illustrating alternative ways heritage sites are used. Some individuals and groups may visit museums and heritage sites to determine their place within the world around them and therefore define their identities (Chang and MacLeod 2012: 23). Hoop-

‘ h e r i t a ge p l a c e s a re c o n s t a n t l y v i s i t e d by m a s s a u d i e n c e s w h o re g a rd t h e m a s t r u s t w o r t h y i n eve r y t h i n g a n d t h e i d e a l o f o b j e c t i v i t y. H ow eve r, a l t e r n a t e n a r r a t i ve s , o p i n i o n s , i d e a s a n d m a rg i n a l i s e d g r o u p s m a y b e i g n o re d . ’ romanticised representation of the past that does not explore suffering or atrocities. Rather it presents heritage that initiates pride and nationalism (Smith 2006: 42). Furthermore the AHD confines heritage to the past and does not recognise it as something that is consistently changing and develop-

er-Greenhill argues the self-identities of visitors to museums must not be ig-nored but rather more attention should be payed to the role of museums in creating a sense of identity (2007: 3). Visions of identity are a dynamic construct that may be constructed and grown through expoWINTER 2016 | 42

C U LT U R A L H E R I TA G E sure to heritage. For example people may visit sites to connect with family, to integrate into a new society or citizenship, or to remember and to understand their culture in order to better identify with it. This could take place at the Melbourne Museum of Immigration, where an individual might visit to view the story of their immigrant grandparents, thus shaping their sense of belonging. In addition an individual may visit the National Museum of Australia in order to understand the cultural practices of their new country and as a result build their identity as a new Australian.

An exhibition about the television program Big Brother was displayed at the Science Museum in London in 2006. While Appleton writes about this exhibition as being an educational experience, it appears more as a way of making connections, understanding identities and building a sense of belonging (2007: 115). For example, one floor explored the theme of ‘Who Am I?’ which allowed visitors to engage with genetic fingerprinting which “matched up the DNA” with

are often constrained through the AHD to represent one version of identity but in reality, diverse and dynamic identities of both individuals and communities exist (Chang and MacLeod 2012: 25). As Smith highlights, people visit heritage places to emotionally invest (2014:2). This may be achieved through generating a sense of identity and belonging and building connections to place. Museums may have a large impact on individuals especially concerning their sense of place. As an example museums which have represented minority groups have witnessed positive outcomes for individuals from these group. This may relate to visually impaired or blind people who visit a museum and discover it has catered for their individual needs (Sandell 2007: 97). While museum and heritage interpretation has traditionally been defined by its educational aims, the sense of belonging created through these sites illustrates alternate ways they are used. Education should not be the primary concern of interpretation, because many visitors are much more concerned with ideas such as belonging and inclusion.

‘Commemoration as a use of h e r i t a ge s i t e s i s n o t o f t e n re c o g n i s e d , a s t h e m e m o r i e s a s s o c i a t e d a re n o t n e c e s s a r i l y ‘ go o d ’ a n d c a u s e t e n s i o n . ’ members of their family such as their mother, father and child and the wider community. This appears as a way to build identities and form connections to place and people rather than be educated. Hooper-Greenhill similarly promotes learning in museums and heritage sites but still recognises, unlike Appleton, that this has a large impact on producing self identities (2007: 1).

Museums and heritage sites

People also visit museums and heritage sites to have their views about the world around them reinforced (Smith 2014: 1). For example, an individual may attend a heritage site, such as the Stockman’s Hall of Fame, with preconceived ‘entry narratives.’

Upon leaving the heritage site, the visitor does not have new ideas about the heritage presented and thus has not had an educational experience through learning. As a result the visitor has had

their ideas reinforced about how they perceived a certain history and hence is assured about their place in the world and of their identity. If their perceptions about the past had been challenged, it would have disput-ed the legitimacy of their experiences and sense of identity. The Bradman Museum, located in Bowral N.S.W, reinforces the stereotypical notion of Australia as a masculine white nation of sporting heroes. This museum may be visited by a certain class and type of Australian, to reaffirm the viewer’s ideas of self identity (Ander-son and Reeves 1994: 121). Thus people use museums and heritage sites to see themselves and their history reflected, separately from pursuing educational outcomes.

Similarly, another alternate reason individuals or groups may visit museums and heritage sites is to commemorate and remember (Smith 2006: 57). For example, an individual may visit the Australian War Memorial, locat-ed in Canberra, in order to commemorate those who lost their lives and not to learn about the history of Aus-tralia’s involvement in military conflicts. In a similar fashion, an individual may visit Port Arthur to remember the massacre of April 1996 and not be educated about the colonial history. In addition, people may visit an Australian Indigenous site to pay respect to and commemorate their ancestors and remember their culture.

Commemoration as a use of heritage sites is not often recognised, as the memories associated are not necessarily ‘good’ and cause tension. Commemoration is also associated with an emotional response in the visitor which is seen as an unreliable and untrustworthy approach to heritage by the museum, unlike education which is rational and useful (Smith 2006: 58). It is important to recognise the varied reasons people may visit and use heritage sites and embrace emotion as WINTER 2016 | 43

C U LT U R A L H E R I TA G E a viable response. Identifying the importance of other uses of museums and heritage sites highlights a need to balance the traditionally dominant educational uses with the diverse range of other applications.

Education and learning have traditionally been prioritised in museums and are generally though of in a positive light. As a result, the idea of emotional responses in the visitor has been ignored. Museums and heritage sites have prevailed in public opinion as sites to acquire knowledge. Thus they privilege the mind and ignore the body (Hooper-Greenhill 2007: 4).

However, individuals may visit sites to explore and experience the feelings associated with being in the space and the emotional responses one may feel from a particular site. Josie Ap-pleton presents a different view within Museums and their Communities writing “museums should stick to what they do best - to preserve, display, study and where possible collect the treasures of civilisation and of nature” (2007: 125). She offers no suggestion that museums may be used as sites of emotion, creating a sense of belonging or as a memorial. It is important to acknowledge the emotional quality of heritage and recognise some people visit museums and heritage sites to feel and respond emotionally (Smith 2006: 66). Conflict between the concept of heritage for emotion and heritage for education can be witnessed in the interpretation of the “Enola Gay” Exhibition, which was on display at the National Air and Space Museum in America until 1995. It was praised for its merits as an exhibition which challenged ideas surrounding the narratives of war and nationalism.

It is also applauded by Kohn for its educational purpose of “promoting scholarship” (1995: 1040). The exhibition explores the dropping of the atomic bomb on Japan in 1945 which is believed by many to be the catalysts

for the end of the Second World War. The exhibition chose to question the motives behind dropping the bomb, its consequent impact and legacy especially to the Japanese civilian victims.

tives of history through selection and exclusion of objects, ideas, and view points. The traditional belief witnesses museums and heritage sites to be perceived and upheld as educational

‘ I t i s i m p o r t a n t t o a c k n ow l e d ge t h e e m o t i o n a l q u a l i t y o f h e r i t a ge a n d re c o g n i s e s o m e p e o p l e v i s i t m u s e u m s a n d h e r i t a ge s i t e s f o r a n e m o t i o n a l connection and to feel’ This un-nationalistic approach was widely criticised in America by such groups as politicians and veterans.

While the exhibition diverged from the AHD approach through challenging audiences, it is witnessed as purely valuable for its educational purposes (Kohn 1995: 1036). While these educational purposes are useful and valuable it is not considered that people may visit the exhibition purely to feel, to be connected with the event and the suffering, to feel the power of the object and as a result have an emotional response.

In conclusion, and what this essay set out to demonstrate, is that education is not the only way that museums and heritage sites are used.

Therefore education, while a valuable aspect, should not be the primary concern of interpretation. There exists a variety of ways individuals and groups may use heritage. For example, to show respect, as a memorial, for connections to family, due to political beliefs, for commemoration, as a way to be incorporated into their new citizenship, and to remember. Museums and heritage sites have traditionally been viewed as places of knowledge and learning, this ingrained historical view of these sites as upholders of true wisdom has not often come into question. It is important to acknowledge these sites as inevitably biased while telling particular narra-

institutions. This belief still plays a significant role in the way museums function in today’s world in terms of the curator’s interpretation and the visitor’s expectations. However, it is important to analyse and unpack preconceived ideas of why people visit heritage sites. It is important to acknowledge the emotional quality of heritage and recognise some people visit museums and heritage sites for an emotional connection and to feel.

People also visit museums and heritage sites to have their views about the world around them reinforced. Of special importance is the way visiting heritage sites and museums has a large impact on a sense of identity and feelings of belonging and connection to place, illustrating alternative ways heritage sites are used. Therefore education, while an important aspect of interpretation, should not be its primary concern.

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Hooper-Greenhill, E. 2007. Museums and Education: Purpose, Pedagogy, Performance. Oxon: Routledge.

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Kohn, R.H. 1995. History and the Culture Wars: The case of the Smithsonian Institution’s Enola Gay exhibition. The Journal of American History 82(3): 1036-1063.

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The views and opinions expressed in articles are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of ABACUS or the Australian National University.

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