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(c)2001 Jon Muller
Archaeological
Formations
There are a number of key elements in an
historical-materialist analysis. First, one should expect that there
will be a dialectical component extending beyond a simple discussion
of cause and effect. As each new archaeological formation comes into
being, it contains contradictions. These contradictions, of course,
are not necessarily logical
oppositions, but rather refer to implicit oppositional consequences
of a single phenomenon. Some contradictions are critical to the
continuation of the archaeological effort--others play a relatively
minor role in change and evolution of the discipline. In addition, we
should expect that the material conditions of everyday life--in the
way that archaeology is done--will have a determining role in the
formation of archaeological practice and theory. At the same time, it
is clear that class, the social structure of archaeology itself, and
of the larger scale formations of which it is a part will be
important to understanding the genesis of archaeological formations.
I should explain that I use the term
formation here in a
purposefully ambiguous fashion--first, to indicate that archaeology
is formed within the context of its social settings
(i.e., social formations) and that archaeologists together are a
social group--a social formation--in the same way as other social
groups, living and dead. The second reason is to make the point that
archaeology has its own, objective 'material conditions of everyday
life.' Like other scientific and humanist scholarship, archaeological
knowledge is constrained by an objective world of fact. Although much
of all scholarship is opinion, not all opinion is scholarship, nor is
all scholarship just opinion. Outside of the nihilism of
Postmodernism, scholarship, not just science, sets standards for how
fact is to become
data, for how we are to judge
what is fair, and what is irrelevant.
In the brief span of this paper, I want to introduce several
issues concerning archaeological formations. First, I want to comment
briefly on the increasingly sophisticated writing of histories of
archaeology by archaeologists. Then I will talk about several aspects
of a 'political economy' of archaeology, including a kind of 'mode of
production' outline of archaeological social development and class
structure.
An Archaeology of Histories of
Archaeology
There are contradictory, though not necessarily dialectically
opposed, practices in studies of the development of archaeology. Some
histories completely fail to apply the tools of anthropology to the
analysis of archaeology itself, while others write histories that are
clearly situated within one or another particular tradition of
archaeological reportage, but often without seeming to realize the
implications of such practice. Disjunctions thus emerge between
archaeological practice in the study of its primary subject matter
and the histories written about archaeology's own
development.
A classic example of the failure to practice what is preached
is the widespread reference to, and metaphorical use of, the
'paradigm shift' model of Thomas Kuhn (e.g., 1957, 1962). What are
the main features of this model? It, as much as anything, claims the
independence of changes in scientific disciplines from the objective
conditions of their 'everyday' life. It traces those changes instead
to the interplay of ideas in social relationships. A 'Kuhnian'
perspective emphasizes the social conditions of intellectual history
to the exclusion of nearly every other factor. The acceptance of this
model by bourgeois idealists is neither surprising nor inconsistent,
but widespread tacit acceptance of the Kuhnian model by cultural
materialists or selectionists is both astonishing and inconsistent.
Kuhn's The Structure of
Scientific Revolutions (1962),
is the most often cited source, but his earlier The Copernican
Revolution (1957), I think, even more clearly exposes
the essentially bourgeois idealist character of his theory. In that
work he confuses public adoption with expert judgment (e.g.,
1985:187), and he commonly treats Occam's Razor as though it were a
frivolous aesthetic judgment (e.g., 1985:226). It is not that Kuhn is
wrong in arguing for the importance of social life in the formation
and dissemination of scientific theory, but rather that he comes very
close to arguing that this is all there is to scholarly
investigation. If Kuhn comes close to denying any role for objective
fact, many of those who cite him go full tilt into a denial of
scientific method.
|
Figure
1. A 'Seriation' of American
Archaeology (Willey and Sabloff 1974:Figure 4)
|
It is more interesting that other histories of archaeology
have implicitly, perhaps even covertly, proceeded along the same
lines that the authors have used in their
archaeological
investigations. Culture-historical and antiquarian historians of
archaeology have been perhaps the most consistent in this regard. The
antiquarian tradition of British archaeology is strongly reflected in
Daniel's histories (1950, 1963, 1975; but contrast the recent
revision by Renfrew, Daniel and Renfrew 1990). There are treasures
here--one may note that a hundred-year history of archaeology was
published in 1950, and that only 25 years later, archaeology had
progressed so far as to have 150 years. Daniel's 1975 environmental
explanation of processual archaeology in the United States is also a
gem in arguing that the emphasis on theory is a consequence of the
boring lack [sic!] of really fancy archaeological remains in the
North America. In culture historical work, the first edition of
Willey and Sabloff's History of American
Archaeology strongly parallels
the form of Willey's famous areal survey, Introduction to the
Archaeology of America (1966).
Both studies share the emphasis on historical context, local
sequences, and regional developments. For example, the first edition
of the History presented a
seriation-like graph for archaeological schools (Figure 1-from 1974:
Figure 4) that is certainly in the spirit of sequence charts in the
Introduction. Both volumes are culture historical in form
and character. In later editions (e.g., 1993) in a 'processual'
environment, revisions reflect interplay among processualism, culture
history, and even postprocessualism, but with little attention to
selectionism. On other fronts, the sophisticated social treatments of
archaeological history by Trigger in a number of papers and books
(e.g., 1989), Patterson (e.g., 1990, 1994, Schmidt and Patterson
1995), or by McGuire in his more general theory volume (1992) reflect
their position on the left of archaeological theory. McGuire's
adherence to the Marxian 'Theory of internal relations,' is
particularly consistent with his historical discussion in emphasizing
the social relations of archaeology. In the last few years there has
also been a flurry of selectionist historical writings from Robert
Dunnell and his associates. For example, O'Brien's history of
Missouri archaeology, Paradigms of the Past: The Story of Missouri
Archaeology (1996) ranges much
more broadly than its title suggests. In an edited volume,
Changing Perspectives on the Archaeology of the Central
Mississippi Valley (1998), Dunnell and O'Brien also included a
number of historical perspectives. However, I confess that I cannot
see much selectionist method in their approach to history except
for some concentration on 'traits.' However, the differential
persistence of these archaeological practices seems to be attributed
to a kind of intellectual perverseness on the part of those being
criticized, rather than to a process of
evolutionary
selection. In this sense, at least, a selectionist
historical argument is framed in different theoretical terms from the
approach taken by selectionists to actual archaeological remains.
Thus, the persistence of what is called an 'essentialist' phase is
not seen as an indication of selection of that taxonomic unit concept
(e.g., Fox in O'Brien and Dunnell 1998).
Of course, similar points may be made in relation to broader
anthropological histories. Marvin Harris's The Rise of
Anthropological Theory (1968) certainly reflects the cultural
materialism of its author, but a largely intellectual-history
narrative detracts from his efforts to argue for cultural materialist
analyses. If such ideological factors are relevant for archaeological
history, why not for explanations of 'sacred
cows'?
The truth, of course, is that intellectual histories and
social histories are so typical of our cultural systems that hardly
anyone can escape some degree of 'contamination' by them. And, of
course, aside from a few doctrinaire hard-liners, most of us
understand that social and intellectual concerns are relevant to change in archaeological theory
and practice, as well as to the everyday life of all people, past and
present. The problem is not that social or intellectual histories are
bad--it is rather that they are a problem when
only social or intellectual
factors are considered. One of the great strengths of an
historical-materialist approach is that it provides a framework
within which ideas, society, and environment can all play
parts.
Archaeological
Formations
Archaeological
'Production'
How do archaeologists
do archaeology? At the heart
of any historical-materialist approach are the essentials of how
labor is organized. We should ask whether there is a 'mode of
production of American archaeology' in more than a metaphorical
sense. There certainly is social reproduction of archaeology and
archaeologists, and the reproduction of social values in graduate and
undergraduate training is as much initiation as any circumcision
ceremony. Naive students are brought into the 'bush' of academic
departments, placed under enormous economic and social stress, and
trained in esoteric behaviors. We may perhaps note without further
comment the common observation by non-anthropologists that we often
practice endogamous biological reproduction.
Archaeologists, and anthropologists in general, form a
relatively homogenous in-group like the anthropological linguists
studied by Murray (1983). In their daily work, archaeologists are
specialists working in class-based, industrial society. There are
certainly 'material bases' for everyday archaeological life. Although
many of these factors are shared with other academic and professional
groups, this does not alter their importance in shaping the nature of
archaeological behavior, as well as of archaeological
discourse.
It is difficult to say whether it is meaningful to speak of
alienation of production in academic archaeology. There hardly seems
to be a "surplus value' to be appropriated! However, the analysis of
the social structure of intelligentsia has always created problems
for efforts to force such social groups into the class struggle. As a
professor, of course, I am likely to feel that the common
identification of students as an exploited social group has been
overstressed. I am, however, acutely aware of the exploited condition
of teachers, as teachers, relative to the Universities where they are
employed. Seriously, one feature of alienation and class that is
particularly relevant lies in the conditions under which, and the
purposes for which, archaeologists are actually employed. In
'contract archaeology,' on the other hand, the situation is much
clearer there can be no doubt that whole groups of field
archaeological workers have been proletarianized, while others have
become something akin to exploiters, if not always 'bourgeois' in the
19th century sense.
Class in
Archaeology
Class identification of archaeologists has changed
considerably in the last century. Like other natural sciences in
England (for such was its origin), the field was dominated by the
idle rich (such as Pitt-Rivers, nee Lane-Fox) or less wealthy, but
gentle non-producers such as clergymen. Gentility and amateurism were
the keys, since working-class persons could rarely aspire to the
leisure time necessary to practice any form of archaeology. Less
genteel persons could engage in archaeology in the wealthier United
States. For example, Cyrus Thomas and John Wesley Powell were fellow
members of the Illinois Natural History Society, and they were both
natural historians rather like those of England. But America had no
titled elite, merely wealthy lawyers, doctors, and the less wealthy,
but nascent academics. Powell and his archaeological director Thomas
shared a common background in American bourgeois academic life--both
had academic appointments at the ancestors of Illinois State
University and Southern Illinois University, respectively, before
they went to Federal service. Frederick Ward Putnam at Harvard was
more representative of established wealth than were the upstarts from
Illinois. It is interesting to explore the similarities and
differences of the approaches taken by the Bureau of Ethnology and
the Peabody Museum in the rush to acquire specimens in the late
19th century with these social differences in
mind.
In social terms, class and ethnicity were strong elements in
the development of the respective archaeological training centers at
Harvard and Columbia. At Harvard, the culture-historical, but not
Boasian, work of scholars like Roland B. Dixon may be contrasted to
the German and Jewish tradition of scholarship followed by Franz
Boas. These matters are beginning to see some discussion, but they
would hardly have been treated so sparingly and gingerly were they
features of some 'native' society. It is surely more than merely
interesting that the material conditions under which these persons
worked went far to reduce what one might otherwise expect to be a
vast and unbridgeable social difference in academic settings still
rife with class and anti-Semitic prejudice.
More recently, the material changes that resulted in the
emergence of the 'New Archaeology' of the 1960s were among the
consequences of the 'democratization' of higher education in the
United States after World War II.. This process created new class
identities for millions of Americans, male and female. It is no
accident that so many scholarly fields shared the development of
'New' theoretical schools as those trained in the late 40s and 50s
replaced the pre-war academic elite. A personal illustration of this
process may be seen in the consciousness of class in the
graduate-student reminiscences of Lewis Binford
(1972).
Postmodernism of one flavor or another became widespread in
the academic social formations of the eighties, but it is hard to see
how the specific emergence of archaeological postprocessualism as
we know it today could have taken place outside the social
and economic contradictions of Thatcherite England. How can a purely
intellectual history justify ignoring the importance of the social
conditions of the academy in these changes?
These few examples, I hope, illustrate
potential benefits of attending to variables such as production,
reproduction, and class--that is to say, those variables that are
integral to historical-materialist analyses. I would, however, never
pretend that historical materialism is the
only way to deal with these
concerns.
Archaeological
Contradictions
In the brief time that is left, I want to point to additional
questions that deserve more explicit answers in the 'archaeology of
archaeology.' I have already suggested that we need to pay more
attention to the dialectical contradictions implicit in
archaeological social formations. We have group, if not class,
oppositions between contract archaeologists and academic
archaeologists. The potentials for old fashioned exploitation exists
between archaeological 'bosses' and their workers. Such problems are
not only a feature of contemporary archaeology, of
course.
Many other contradictions exist. The interests of 'amateurs'
and those of professionals have been brought together in felicitous
ways in programs such as those of Arkansas, but there are often
severe tensions. These interests and the role of archaeologists as a
group in relation to the Native peoples whose remains are being
studied are going to be critical to the very survival of the
discipline as a social formation. It is in this arena, that the
contradictions between popular and scientific archaeology will be
negated.
Finally, I cannot resist identifying some important, if not
necessarily determining, contradictions of archaeology, mixing
theoretical and practical concerns. We live in a world of facts about
time, but Schiffer's cautions on the nature of the 'formation' of the
archaeological record have dialectical dimensions (1987)--for
example, in the interplay between natural and cultural processes and
our 'ability' to distinguish between the two. We also have the
problem that our work, like music or drama, produces little of
material worth. Yet the public interest in archaeology--whether fair
or foul, legitimate or fantastic--continues to grow, fed by not only
the mostly 'legitimate' presentations of PBS, but also by the mixed
bag of The Learning Channel and A&E. We also forget at our peril
the use of archaeology to justify political and public policy. The
'Ancestral Heritage' branch of the SS (Kater 1974) and other similar
uses of archaeology still resonate in a world of Palestines and
Kosovos.
<![if !supportEmptyParas]> <![endif]>
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