Dawn of the Metal Age: Technology and Society during the Levantine Chalcolithic 9781904768999, 2007031548

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Dawn of the Metal Age

Approaches to Anthropological Archaeology Series Editor: Thomas E. Levy, University of California, San Diego Editorial Board: Guillermo Algaze, University of California, San Diego Geoffrey E. Braswell (University of California, San Diego) Paul S. Goldstein, University of California, San Diego Joyce Marcus, University of Michigan This series recognizes the fundamental role that anthropology now plays in archaeology and also integrates the strengths of various research paradigms that characterize archaeology on the world scene today. Some of these different approaches include ‘New’ or ‘Processual’ archaeology, ‘PostProcessual’, evolutionist, cognitive, symbolic, Marxist, and historical archaeologies. Anthropological archaeology accomplishes its goals by taking into account the cultural and, when possible, historical context of the material remains being studied. This involves the development of models concerning the formative role of cognition, symbolism, and ideology in human societies to explain the more material and economic dimensions of human culture that are the natural purview of archaeological data. It also involves an understanding of the cultural ecology of the societies being studied, and of the limitations and opportunities that the environment (both natural and cultural) imposes on the evolution or devolution of human societies. Based on the assumption that cultures never develop in isolation, Anthropological Archaeology takes a regional approach to tackling fundamental issues concerning past cultural evolution anywhere in the world.

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Dawn of the Metal Age Technology and Society during the Levantine Chalcolithic

Jonathan M. Golden

First published 2010 by Equinox, an imprint of Acumen Published 2014 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017, USA Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

© Jonathan M. Golden 2009

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Notices Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge in evaluating and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described herein. In using such information or methods they should be mindful of their own safety and the safety of others, including parties for whom they have a professional responsibility. To the fullest extent of the law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors, or editors, assume any liability for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use or operation of any methods, products, instructions, or ideas contained in the material herein. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN-13 978 1 904768 99 9

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Golden, Jonathan Michael. Dawn of the metal age : technology and society during the Levantine Chalcolithic / Jonathan M. Golden. p. cm. -- (Approaches to anthropological archaeology) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-904768-99-9 (hb) 1. Copper age--Middle East. 2. Copper mines and mining, Prehistoric--Middle East. 3. Copper implements--Middle East. 4. Metal-work, Prehistoric--Middle East. 5. Excavations (Archaeology)--Middle East. 6. Middle East--Antiquities. I. Title. GN778.32.M628G65 2008 939’.4--dc22 2007031548 Typeset by CA Typesetting Ltd, Sheffield

In memory of my beloved parents, Carl and Dorie Golden

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Contents

List of Figures List of Tables Acknowledgments Preface by Thomas E. Levy

ix xi xii xvii

1 The Dawn of the Metal Age

1

2 Leaving the Neolithic

8

3 The Northern Negev Copper Boom

35

4 Elite Tombs of the Chalcolithic

48

5 Cornets and Copper— A Metallurgical Perspective on Chalcolithic Chronology

71

6 A Model for Specialized Craft Production

97

7 Copper Production at Abu Matar

108

8 The Seduction of the Industry

150

9 Technology and Society

163

10 Production and Social Organization during the Chalcolithic

181

11 Conclusion

191

Bibliography Index

203 228

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List of Figures

2.1 2.2. 2.3 2.4

Burial from Gilat with ‘V-shape’ bowl. ‘Lady with Churn’, ceramic sculpture from Gilat ‘Ram with Cornets’, ceramic sculpture from Gilat. Anthropomorphic figure with exaggerated eyes from portion of a painted wall ‘fresco’ found at Ghassul.

3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6

Map of Chalcolithic sites in the Beer Sheva area. Profile drawings of subterranean structure, Locus 127 at Abu Matar. Beer Sheva Chalcolithic ceramics. Examples of anthropomorphic figurines from the northern Negev. Fenestrated basalt stand (‘incense burner’) from Abu Matar. Distribution of archaeological evidence for copper production at the Chalcolithic village of Shiqmim.

4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5

Tomb with kurkar ossuaries discovered at the coastal site of Palmachim. Ceramic ossuary (‘bone box’) from Peqi'in with depiction of human face. Standard made from a complex metal found at Nahal Mishmar (No. 21). Ibex Standard from Nahal Mishmar (No. 17). ‘Crown’ from Nahal Mishmar (No.10).

5.1

Bar graph showing distribution of pig bones according to rainfall patterns.

7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 7.7 7.8 7.9 7.10 7.11 7.12 7.13 7.14 7.15 7.16 7.17 7.18 7.19 7.20 7.21 7.22

Ternary diagram showing relative proportions of mineral phases in Chalcolithic slag. Diagram showing levels of magnesium and manganese in ores from Chalcolithic settlements. SEM micrograph of ore. SEM micrograph showing reaction between the silica and iron oxides. Crucible fragments from Abu Matar. Reconstruction of Chalcolithic crucible. ‘V-shape’ vessel re-used as a crucible. Photograph of furnace wall with slag coating. Drawing of furnace wall, interior face with profile and overview. Photograph of furnace fragment from Shiqmim. Photograph of ceramic furnace fragment, possibly a lid, from Abu Matar. Reconstruction of smelting furnace, section drawing. Photograph of furnace fragment with slag and trapped beads of copper. Map of Abu Matar showing distribution of artifacts related to metal production. Distribution of furnace remains at Abu Matar. Distribution of crucible remains at Abu Matar. Chart depicting the frequency of smelting furnaces at Abu Matar according to phase of occupation. The number of loci with furnace remains. Distribution of slag and ore according to locus. Graph comparing size of ores are found in Loci 218 and 244. Photograph of metal artifact, possibly an ingot, from Bir es-Safadi. Photograph of metal artifact, possibly an ingot, from Bir es-Safadi, section.

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7.23 7.24 7.25 7.26

Photomicrographs of ‘ingot’ from Bir es-Safadi. Drawing of metal artifact, possibly an ingot, from Shiqmim. Disc-shaped macehead from Shiqmim. Fragment of copper sheet from Bir es-Safadi.

8.1 8.2 8.3

Basalt pillar figurine from Golan depicting human face. Metal vessel and piriform macehead from Nahal Mishmar. Piriform macehead from Nahal Mishmar.

9.1

Decorative macehead from Nahal Mishmar incorporating blade-like projections and a joint pair of animals. Metal horn-shaped casting from Nahal Mishmar.

9.2

List of Tables

2.1

Chronological chart showing cultural phases and specific sites.

4.1 5.1 5.2 5.3

Composition of gold and electrum rings from Nahal Qanah. Some general trends in material culture showing change in the ceramic assemblages, the use of figurines, basalt fenestrated stands and the introduction of copper. Summary of ceramic, archaeometallurgical and radiocarbon evidence. Percentage of pig bones at Chalcolithic sites according to rainfall.

7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 7.7

Chemical composition of ores and slag from Chalcolithic sites in the northern Negev. Chemical composition of the ‘disc’-shaped macehead from Shiqmim, PIXE Analysis. Chemical profile of Shiqmim ‘disc-shaped’ macehead ICP analysis. Chemical profile of selected maceheads from Nahal Mishmar, ICP analysis. Chemical profile of standard from Palmachim; AAS analysis. Chemical composition of ‘raw’ copper prills from Abu Matar; PIXE analysis. Chemical composition of ‘raw’ copper removed from refractory ceramics, ICP analysis.

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Acknowledgments

The idea for this book first came during a conversation in the summer of 1993, while riding in a jeep through the northern wadis of Israel’s Negev Desert. The research for this book took me from Philadelphia to Germany, and to Israel and back multiple times. Numerous people have assisted me during the course of this adventure and I will try to thank them all. I begin by extending the greatest gratitude to four people in particular who made research for this project possible: Catherine Commenge, Vincent Pigott, Andreas Hauptmann, and above all Thomas E. Levy, who facilitated much of the research that has gone into this work, and who is also the editor of the series of which this book is a part. It was Tom Levy who drove that jeep in the summer of 1993, steering me toward this quest to uncover the mysteries of metallurgy during the Chalcolithic. Research for this book was made possible with support of generous grants from such sources as the Deutscher Akademischer Austauschsdienst–German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD), and the United States Information Agency (Jr. Research Fellowship), administered by the Albright Institute for Archaeological Research in association with the American Schools of Oriental Research (ASOR). In addition to providing a grant, the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS)—Centre de Recherche Français, Jérusalem also provided access to archaeological materials, hospitality, and camaraderie. Support for travel and lodging came from the Dorot Travel Grant, administered through the Department of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies at the University of Pennsylvania; the Samuel H. Kress Graduate Studies Fellowship in Archaeology, administered by the Nelson Glueck School of Biblical Archaeology, HUC-JIR, Jerusalem; the ‘Field Funds’ Travel Grant from the Department of Anthropology, University of Pennsylvania; and the Dissertation Fellowship, also from the Department of Anthropology, University of Pennsylvania. Material analysis is at the very core of this book and this research would not have been possible without MASCA and the guidance of the MASCA staff. Specifically, I would like to thank Stuart Fleming, and Charles Swann for providing PIXE analysis, Sam Nash for his assistance preparing and analyzing samples for metallographic examination, Naomi Miller for examination of organic materials, Patrick McGovern for consultation of ceramic materials, and Phillip Nord for photography. During my years at Penn, especially during the time spent working at MASCA, Vincent Pigott was much more than a teacher; he was a mentor in every sense of the word. The bulk of the material analyses discussed in this book were carried out at the Institüt für Archäometallurgie—Deutsches Bergbau-Museum, Bochum, and I would like to thank the entire staff at the IFA-DBM, especially Andreas Hauptmann, the Institute’s Director. I also wish to thank Andreas Ludwig who has elevated the process of sample preparation to an art form; Andreas and his wife Simone provided friendship and hospitality. Karsten Hess and Michael Prange both took time from their own research to assist me in my work and I am grateful to them for this. Unsal

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Yalcin, Frau Heuchel, Frau Opel, and Wolfgang Stager also provided assistance to me during my sojourn in Bochum. I am forever indebted to Thilo Rehren, now of the Institute for Archaeology, UCL, for the innumerable hours he spent coaching me on the Scanning Electron Microscope and for his great insight in the interpretation of archaeometallurgical remains; more than this, Thilo and his family afforded me great hospitality while I was in Germany. I am also grateful to the staff at the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion. In particular, I would like to thank the late Dr. Avram Biran, Hanni Hirsch, David Ilan, Rachel Ben-Dor and Gila Chaim, Malka Hershkovitz and Adi Kafri for all of their help over the years. At this juncture I must also thank two dear friends, Yorke Rowan and Morag Kersel, both of whom have provided insight on the topic, as well as logistical support over the years. The initial stage of research began at the Centre de Recherche Français, Jerusalem, where I worked closely with Catherine Commenge. Herself an expert on the Chalcolithic, it was she who first introduced me to the wonderful assemblages from Abu Matar and Bir es-Safadi. The rest of the staff at the Centre, including Director François Blanchtiere, his wife, Naomi Blanchtiere, Charles Seraphin, Daniel Ladiray and Marjolaine Barazzani, who produced a number of the photos that appear in this book, were also helpful. During the time that I was conducting research at the Centre de Recherche Français, I lived at the Albright Institute in East Jerusalem, and my stay there was made most comfortable and fruitful with the help of Director Sy Gitin, Edna Sachar, Sarah Sussman, and Said Freij. Of course this project would not have been possible without the cooperation of the Rishut Ha’Atiqot (Israel Antiquities Authority). In particular, I need to thank Pnina Schor for her continued help with access to the assemblages. I also thank the late Amir Drori, Amir Golani, Eliot Braun and Sam Wolf. Both Ossi Brandl of the Israel Museum and the late Ornit Ilan of the Rockefeller Museum also provided assistance. This work is based in part on my doctoral dissertation completed for the University of Pennsylvania’s Department of Anthropology and I would thus like to thank the members of my dissertation committee, Clark Ericson, Richard Zettler, and Bruce Routledge. Additional thanks must also be extended to Bernard Wailes, a true mentor at Penn who has offered continued support and guidance over the years. The staff at the University Museum Library, especially John Weeks, Jean Adelman, and Anita Farringer who provided support above and beyond that of a librarian during my years at Penn and thereafter. Linney Schenck was also of great help to me during this time, as was Kathleen Ryan. Robert Kalalian helped with the preparation and inclusion of images, and Julie Hanlon helped with the preparation of figures and editing of citations among other things. I would like to thank members of Kibbutz Ein Harod, and David Motin in particular, for hospitality during my most recent visit to Israel when some of the photos appearing in this book were taken. Computer support at Drew University was provided by Gamin Bartle, Sarah Ashley, John Saul and Alan Canditotti; Ciana Meyers, worked tirelessly to perfect the quality of many of the images appearing in this book and Eric Emdur helped with editing. I would like to thank Phil Peek, Chair of the Anthropology Department at the time of this book’s writing, along with Leedom Lefferts, both of whom offered help and hospitality during my earliest years at Drew. I would also like to express my appreciation to my Department Chair, Prof. Christopher Taylor, Dean Jonathan Levin, Provost Pamela Gunter-Smith and President Robert Weisbuch. I also need to thank a number of friends who have provided support and hospitality over the years, especially Serge Avery and the Philadelphia Canoe Club. I must certainly express my gratitude to Janet Joyce, Heidi Robins and Valerie Hall at Equinox for their interest in publishing this book, and for their great patience as I gradually completed it.



Acknowledgments

xv

Last, but certainly not least, I would like to the thank members of my family who have provided infinite love and support: Steve, Shira, Navah, Hannah, as well as my late parents, Carl and Dorie Golden. Finally, I thank Priscilla, who not only helped with things like editing and citations, but also provided much-needed support during the days spent completing this book.

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Preface Thomas E. Levy, University of California, San Diego

The northern Negev desert of Israel is one of the richest regions in the Middle East in which to study the rise of social complexity. Sometime between 3600 to 2600 bce the first fortified urban sites grew and expanded across the Middle East from the plains of Mesopotamia in modern IraqIran, across Anatolia and south to the Mediterranean littoral in Israel-Palestine-Jordan. While the great prehistorian V. Gordon Childe (Childe 1950) recognized this settlement pattern long ago and referred to it as the ‘urban revolution’, it was only in the mid-1970s that archaeologists working in the Levantine corridor, linking Egypt and southwest Asia, began to systematically explore the roots of complex urban society in the preceding Chalcolithic period (ca. 4500–3600 bce). In terms of originality, vibrancy and beauty, the Chalcolithic cultures of the northern Negev are amongst the most unique prehistoric cultures in the Old World. This is evident in their ritual artifacts, subterranean villages, craft specialization and other features. A critical factor in the social evolutionary trajectory that enabled late 5th–early 4th millennium societies to grow, adapt, and maintain themselves in the northern Negev is what I’ve referred to as the metal revolution (Levy 2007) and Jonathan Golden calls the Dawn of the Metal Age—the title of this very original and much needed volume. As the first comprehensive anthropological archaeology study of the role of one of the world’s oldest metal production traditions, Golden’s study is extremely useful because it melds the latest models concerning the anthropology of traditional craft production with a healthy dose of hard scientific analyses of previously unpublished Chalcolithic archaeometallurgical data and the latest archaeological discoveries of the period. Golden begins his study by asking key socio-economic questions that revolve around the ‘multiple meanings and uses of metals’ in ancient societies. By taking this perspective, the book goes beyond functionalist explanations of culture change without discarding the achievements of processual approaches to the archaeological record. Some of the questions raised here include clarifying whether formative metallurgy developed with the aim of expressing and reproducing existing Chalcolithic social relations. Other questions focus on whether this innovative industry required new complex social forms—the rise of chiefdoms—to organize the procurement of ore, its processing and the final distribution of metal goods. This leads Golden to question whether formative metal production led to the emergence of a non-producing social elite that was fueled by monopolistic control over prestige metal goods and/or production technologies. Rather than enmeshing himself in the debates concerning the structure of Chalcolithic societies in the Negev desert, that is whether they were intrinsically hierarchical (Levy 2003; Rowan and Golden 2009) or non-hierarchical (Gilead and Fabian 2001), Golden argues for an amalgamation of these factors. The reader will judge whether such a middle of the road explanation can be achieved. The success of this volume rests on the unique talents of the author who has solid training in anthropology, ancient Near Eastern studies and archaeometallurgy. I have been fortunate to know and work in the field with Jonathan Golden—a relationship that began in the 1990s when I was

xviii dawn of the metal age carrying out Chalcolithic excavations in Israel’s northern Negev desert. Jonathan started working with me at the Gilat sanctuary site in Israel (Levy 2006) when he was searching for a doctoral research topic at the beginning of his studies at the University of Pennsylvania. Although we discovered over 80 human burials around the Gilat sanctuary, Jonathan was fortunate enough to find the only sample with a burial offering (see page 18, this volume). The richness of the material culture related to ritual at Gilat juxtaposed to the paucity of prestige burial offerings for those individuals interred around this 5th millennium bce sanctuary—one of only three known public temples from this period in the southern Levant—was deeply troubling for Jonathan. At this early stage in his career, he considered focusing on mortuary archaeology and worked closely with the Gilat project biological anthropologist Patricia Smith (Smith et al. 2006). By 1993, Golden was a key member of our Chalcolithic research team. That year we carried out the last season of excavations at the Shiqmim village center along the banks of the Wadi (Nahal) Beersheva. As a field supervisor, Golden was fortunate enough to find a beautiful alloyed copper disc-shape mace head in the largest building complex at the site (Golden et al. 2001)—a wonderful example of Chalcolithic prestige metalwork and remarkably similar to samples found in the spectacular ‘Cave of the Treasure’ back in the early 1960s by Psaach Bar Adon (Bar Adon 1980). These field experiences helped shape Golden’s quest to understand the ‘Dawn of the Metal Age’. The end result of Golden’s quest to understand one of the most significant technological revolutions in human history is a very well-written and engaging volume that explains the remarkably sudden expansion of the new metal technology in social and cognitive terms. Golden argues that a major conceptual change took place when humans adapted metallurgy as a ‘transformative technology’ and matter (ore) could be manipulated and transformed with human intervention from one state to another (metal). Adapting ideas from the philosopher of science, Thomas Kuhn (Kuhn 1962), Golden suggests that this transformative technology represents a new intellectual paradigm for late prehistoric societies in the southern Levant. I would emphasize that the metal revolution also ushered a new technological threshold in human interaction that impacted their interaction with both the natural and social environments in which they interacted. In this sense the innovative minds that embraced early metallurgy in the Beersheva Valley over 6,000 years ago were little different from those that resided in the Silicon Valley at the end of the 20th century ce. The kind of ‘transformative technology’ described by Golden for the dawn of the metal age was as profound for late prehistoric Middle Eastern societies as the Information Technology revolution was for us in the 20th century.

1

The Dawn of the Metal Age

Introduction This is the story of an ancient society in the throes of rapid social transformation. The changes that occurred involved a great revolution in technology, namely the beginnings of metallurgy in the southern Levant, thus, this is the story as told through the metals. The local advent of metallurgy represents one of the hallmark developments of the age known as the Chalcolithic Period (ca. 4700–3500 bc). The archaeological record, known to us through the excavation of villages, cave sites and cemeteries throughout the southern Levant, reflects significant changes in economic, social, political and religious life during this time. Indeed, when we compare Chalcolithic cultures with those of the preceding Neolithic, the differences are stark. At the beginning of the fifth millennium bc, the Neolithic way of life persisted in the southern Levant. People generally lived in small villages where most people were engaged directly in food production, though some no doubt dabbled, and perhaps even specialized, in additional activities such as the production of pottery and the carving of stone. The operative working unit was the nuclear family, extended family, or kin group, and labor was organized accordingly. There was certainly some level of economic integration and coordination as certain members of the community had specific jobs (e.g. potters), and thus, inevitably, there were some economic distinctions. In fact, it can be argued that part-time craft specialization was embedded within certain subsistence tasks (Perlès 2001), for instance, horticulture (e.g. olives) and pastoral production would emerge as specialized activities during the Chalcolithic. As for their approach to the technological and material world around them, people were still working largely with the same materials that they had for millennia—stone, bone, ivory, wood and other vegetal materials. The most recent additions to these media had been clay and plaster, which, in addition to their contribution to the material culture of economic and domestic life, also played a part in the rise of public cults as well. Advances in technical skills and methods are especially evident in the area of ceramic production where we will see the earliest production of fine wares as well as an expansion in the use of symbolic ceramic goods. It is also significant, particularly from the standpoint of this book’s primary focus—the discovery and production of metals—that both clay and plaster required the application of extreme heat, representing vital steps in the development of pyrotechnology. In terms of social and political organization during the Neolithic, it is doubtful that society was what anthropologists refer to as ‘egalitarian’ in the sense of all members of society being equal in wealth and status, for surely some distinctions can be observed. For one, some members of society had exclusive access to ritual goods, which is significant when the cult was one of, if not the most, powerful establishments at the time. However, it is possible to achieve this level of organization without recourse to any institutionalized or formalized hierarchy or control. This is what Perlès has called ‘heterarchical organization’, meaning a social order ‘based on a differentiation of social and economic roles’ (2001:305). In other words, certain social distinctions, based on

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economic tasks and connections with the cult, did exist during the Neolithic, but this did not involve ranking or a permanent hierarchical structure, and there was probably little political power existing beyond the cult. By the latter part of the fifth millennium with the beginning of the period known as the Chalcolithic (ca. 4500–3500 bc), significant change began to occur in virtually all aspects of Levantine life. Large, well-planned communities were established throughout the southern Levant, including the first significant settlement in the northern Negev desert. New and varied forms of material culture reflect key economic developments, such as the origins of specialized production, in addition to the development of a unique symbolic and artistic tradition. The first pan-regional ritual centers arose in the southern Levant during the late 5th-early 4th millennium bc at sites such as Gilat (Alon and Levy 2006) and Ghassul (Bourke 2002a). Changes in burial practices are also evident in the earliest use of ossuaries, extramural cemeteries and constructed tombs. While the Neolithic was by no means devoid of social competition, a number of developments, especially the proliferation of luxury goods and the use of wealthy cave tombs, reflect meaningful changes in overall social life by the time of the Chalcolithic. Looking at the material record, one of the most outstanding changes in the archaeological record of the Chalcolithic was the introduction of metal, a new material and technology that would ultimately have a profound and deep impact on society. In addition to the direct effects of this new technology on material existence and economic organization, the evolution of the metal industry can also provide insight into changes in the sociopolitical structure and in religious practice as well. While these changes may have occurred independently of metallurgy, it was not long before this new medium became a forceful vehicle for expressing social relations and political power. Overall, an examination of the rise of metallurgy has great potential for providing insight into many questions about social organization during the late prehistory of the southern Levant. In the discussion that follows, we will focus on one primary problem: how the inception of metallurgy in the southern Levant relates to the processes of social transformation that took place during the fourth–fifth millennium bc. But in order to answer this extremely broad question, we must proceed by addressing a number of more specific problems. There is, in fact, a number of different issues that figure in the more general topic, and it is therefore useful to divide them into sets, the first set of which concerns questions about when and where metals and metallurgy—these are two separate things—first appeared in the region. This is important because it is necessary to understand the spatial and temporal framework within which the emergence of metallurgy took place if we are to see it as part of a social process. The second set of questions centers on technical aspects of Chalcolithic metallurgy, for it is critical that we understand how this industry operated, i.e. what goods were being manufactured and by what means. This portion of the discussion will focus on the archaeological evidence for metal production, or rather, archaeometallurgical remains, and the scientific analysis of these materials. Based on this analytical data, we may then go further to address a range of questions about how copper production was organized and how finished products were used. By examining evidence for the distribution of these artifacts within the context of the community, we may gain insight into socioeconomic organization in Chalcolithic society. Finally, drawing on all of this data as a whole, we may begin to answer a number of key questions concerning the ways in which specific developments within the metal industry relate to broader social changes. Thus, it is necessary that we examine a number of different themes, each of which will now be outlined.

Metal and Society Technology, as a form of knowledge, cannot be abstracted from the social environment in which it evolves. Accordingly, if we are to understand the technological systems of the past, we must



The Dawn of the Metal Age

3

also examine how they fit within their own particular cultural historical context; in other words, the practical, social, political, and ideological factors that drove the demand for metal. While the first appearance of more complex social institutions generally coincided with the advent of copper in the southern Levant, the relationship between these phenomena is not so easily understood. Broadly defined, the role of metal in society is twofold: it is the focus of economic activities (i.e. production); and it is a finished good that can be used for a variety of purposes. When studying problems related to metal and society, therefore, it is important to distinguish between production and use. Production refers to all of the activities involved in the manufacture of copper, from the mining of ores to the final hammering and polishing of finished goods, and in some cases, the repair and recycling of these goods. As far as the use of metal is concerned, many important questions remain unanswered. For instance, copper was used to produce a variety of items that would generally be regarded as ‘utilitarian’ forms, but an axe made of the relatively soft ‘pure’ copper would have been rather ineffective as a tool, and we must at least raise the question of whether such a classification is truly valid. At the same time, multiple examples of elegant and beautifully cast goods made from what we shall call complex metals are also part of the material culture. This term, complex metals, is employed here to describe copper with significant amounts of other materials, such as arsenic and antimony, and to a lesser extent nickel, silver and lead; as it is unclear whether these metals were actually handled separately as distinct metals to be intentionally co-smelted, the term ‘alloy’ is used with caution. The gold intermixed with silver found only at the cave tomb at Nahal Qanah can also be considered as part of this group. The actual function of the complex metal castings (e.g. prestige goods, weapons) is not clear, and this is a topic that we will explore at length in later chapters.

The Social Organization of Production

A large portion of this study also concerns socioeconomic systems and the social organization of production, in particular, the topic of craft specialization. Broadly speaking, there are two major questions: how did people actually go about producing copper? And, what was their role as producers within the broader economic and social system? A useful body of theory has been developed for the purpose of characterizing the various forms of specialized craft production (van der Leeuw 1977; Brumfiel and Earle 1987; Clark and Parry 1990; Costin 1991), and we will, upon reviewing these models, attempt to adapt a version developed specifically for the purpose of analyzing Chalcolithic copper industries. Many of the copper items represent luxury goods, and we must therefore investigate whether producers were directly tied to more complex sociopolitical entities, an arrangement often called attached specialization (Costin 1991:5; Earle 1991). We must also consider the extent to which trade in both raw materials and finished goods, in some cases involving long-distance contacts, may have also contributed to social change through exposure to new ideas (Renfrew 1982). The production of metal was a craft that required a substantial investment of resources and energy on a level perhaps unseen prior to this period in the Levant. This in turn, may have necessitated the invention of new ways of organizing production and labor. By the time luxury goods fashioned from complex metals came into use, privileged access to these items may have had the effect of further encouraging social differentiation. Thus, studying the distribution of metal at an archaeological site can contribute to our general understanding of the overall organization of village society. In the discussion that follows we will track what appears to be a strong and consistent correlation between advances in the metal industry and increases in social complexity, the point being to understand the relationship between the two. Archaeological research, of course, produces a static record to which the archaeologist must try to add life. In our efforts to do so, archaeologists often turn to ethnographic studies of living or recently observed peoples whose ways and lives

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may provide some insight into the dynamics of past societies. When studying social and political organization in pre-state or mid-range societies, archaeologists also find it useful to compare these cultures to the types of societies known in the ethnographic literature as chiefdoms (Carniero 1981; Earle 1987, 1989, 1991, 1997; Gilman 1991; Kirch 1991; Potter 1993). Scholars such as Levy (1986, 1992b, 2003) and Joffe (1991) have applied this term to the Chalcolithic societies of the southern Levant, and though this representation has been disputed (Gilead 1994), acceptance of this approach has grown in recent years. In truth, it is not the actual term that should be at issue, but rather questions about the changing level of social complexity over the course of the entire period, and how we may best characterize social organization. This topic will be explored throughout the course of the discussion.

The Multiple Meanings and Uses of Metal

We must keep in mind that metal at this time represented an entirely new medium, with great potential as a vehicle for making statements about the status and wealth of those who controlled its manufacture and distribution. Luxury goods played a vital role in many early complex societies, especially in those with intense prestige rivalry (Renfrew 1982; Suggs 1961). Metals, particularly the complex metals, were among the key commodities in many early prestige goods exchange systems (Yener 1995; Moorey 1994; Chernykh 1992; Levy and Shalev 1989; Knapp 1988). For example, the elite among the Copper Age societies of the Aegean and southeast Spain converted staple finance wealth (e.g. the accumulation of wealth through a surplus of grain) into the production of status goods which could be more easily displayed (Gilman 1991, 1987). As the evidence will show, we can infer a similar association between the introduction of metals in the southern Levant and the rise of complex social systems where material culture was manipulated as a means of expressing wealth and status (Levy 1995; Levy and Shalev 1989; Moorey 1988). And while a general chronological correlation between the appearance of luxury goods and complex societies in the area has been well documented, the relationship between them remains unclear. In order to examine this problem more closely, several research questions may be proposed. First, we must ask, was metallurgy initially developed specifically for the purpose of expressing and reproducing existing social relations? Or was it the fledgling metal industries, requiring increasingly complex forms of economic and/or social organization to drive it, that lead to the creation of a non-producing elite, which was supported through access to limited goods? Were social relations then reproduced and maintained through restrictions on access to these goods (i.e. monopolies on prestige goods and/or technologies)? In addressing this issue, we must be careful to avoid simplified models based on a ‘hierarchical/non-hierarchical’ dichotomy, and as we shall see, the best explanation may reside in an amalgamation of the aforementioned factors. In recent decades, questions concerning the earliest use of complex metals have been the focus of extensive research (McKerrell 1977; Maddin 1988; Rapp 1988; Northover 1989; Rostoker and Dvorak 1991). In a number of early metal producing industries, including Anatolia (Frangipane 1985) and southeast Spain (Hook et al. 1991), researchers have observed a technological division between ‘utilitarian’ industries based on ‘pure’ copper technology and luxury goods industries based on the use of complex metals. A similar ‘dual industry’ was first observed in the southern Levant by Key (1980; see also Potazkin and Bar-Avi 1980), who perceived a strict division between the ‘utilitarian’ goods and the luxury/symbolic goods of the Nahal Mishmar hoard. Subsequently, the ‘dual industry’ model has been noted throughout the southern Levant (Key 1980; Rosen 1984; Shalev and Northover 1987; Northover 1989; Levy and Shalev 1989; Gopher and Tsuk 1991; Tadmor et al. 1995; Golden et al. 2001). This model can now be re-examined in light of the new data, synthesized with what is already known about the evidence for metal production.



The Dawn of the Metal Age

5

As for the origins of this so-called ‘natural alloy’ technology, a number of scholars have argued that the first use of complex metals and the technology associated with it (e.g. co-smelting) developed in Anatolia, closer to sources of this material (Palmier et al. 1993; Pernicka 1990; Zwicker 1980). We must note, however, that the number of complex metal goods discovered in the southern Levant in Chalcolithic, pre-Early Bronze Age (EBA) contexts far exceeds those from contemporary contexts in Anatolia. Furthermore, it is not only the number, but also the variety of types found in the metal assemblage of the southern Levant that is so impressive. In truth, it was not only the use of new materials (i.e. complex metals) but the accompanying advances in production techniques that were conducive to the blossoming of this industry. Whereas in both Anatolia and Iran the proximity and availability of raw materials seems to have led to the expansion of metal technology and the proliferation of the use of complex metals, this was not the case in the southern Levant where complex metals were not locally available. Alternatively, it may be suggested that it was a rich symbolic system, involving a combination of social, ideological, and political factors that fueled the demand for complex metals within Levantine societies. In other words, a unique set of circumstances helped create a socially driven need for complex metal technology. In spite of the more accessible local sources of ‘pure’ copper ore, people went to great lengths, participating in vast exchange networks and perhaps long-distance expeditions in quest of a more rare and desirable material, which was, no doubt, ascribed great value. It cannot, however, be assumed that the dichotomy involving ‘pure’ copper and complex metals existed from the very inception of metallurgy, and it is important that we attempt to establish some sort of chronological framework for this development. For instance, it is necessary to determine if there was an earlier phase when people worked with ‘pure’ copper alone, after which the complex metals industry branched off as a secondary development. A whole other set of questions concerns whether or not metallurgy developed independently in the southern Levant or was an imported technology. When did both ‘pure’ copper tools and complex metal castings first appear? And, did the pattern of dual industries first appear as an established phenomenon, or did the latter tradition develop locally out of the former? One of the most fascinating topics that we will explore in this book concerns technology as a social phenomenon, and it is critical that we learn as much as we can not just about the properties of the metal goods, but about what they can tell us of the people who produced and consumed them. In particular, we will examine the ways that trends in metal production and use correlate with broader cultural trends. Exploring this topic, we will rely on the works of scholars who have discussed ways to study ancient technology and the processes of innovation through archaeological remains (Petrequin 1993; Lemonnier 1993; Renfrew 1984; Spratt 1982). We will also draw from various models that seek to explain the processes by which new ideas are discovered and disseminated (Kuhn 1962; Wallace 1972). When studying ancient production systems, we must also consider numerous social factors that influence the technological choices that producers make (Lemonnier 1993). Furthermore, we must look beyond just our field of primary interest, in this case metallurgy, to examine broad trends in other industries in order to explore what has been called technological milieu (Leroi-Gourhan 1943) and technological style (Lechtman 1988; 1977).

Chronological Sub-Phases and Social Change in the Chalcolithic Discussing long-term technological change requires that we have a firm grasp on chronology. One way to study the shifting social climate is to track changing patterns in the demand for prestige goods (e.g. complex metal castings), which in turn requires reference to a reliable temporal framework. The Chalcolithic of the Levant was originally recognized as a distinct archaeological culture preceding the Early Bronze Age by researchers such as W. F. Albright (1932, 1954) and G.E.

6

dawn of the metal age

Wright (1957). Still, despite over 50 years of subsequent research, there has been relatively little effort to subdivide this cultural/chronological phase that spans over 1000 years. There have been several fairly recent efforts to study this problem (Joffe and Dessel 1995; Gilead 1994; Stager 1992; Levy 1992a), which will be discussed in depth in Chapter 5. So long as the traps of circular reasoning are avoided, we may find that changes in the metal assemblage, reflecting changes in the methods of production and patterns of use of over time, can also contribute to our understanding of broader chronological problems. The period considered here represents a long span of time, including the time before metal first appeared in the region. At the same time, this means that the phase when copper technology was actually current could have been rather short-lived. Ultimately, it is the question of how changes in the metal industry may relate to broader social changes with which we are most concerned.

Technical aspects of prehistoric metallurgy In order to fully comprehend the organization of copper production during the Chalcolithic, it is necessary to address a number of technical issues. The aim of this type of research is to generate the scientific data necessary for testing the anthropological models used to study the social organization of production. We must, therefore, reconstruct Chalcolithic metallurgical technology through a detailed study of the production process as a whole. We may divide this process into three main phases: (1) mining and handling of ores; (2) the smelting process; and (3) casting and finishing techniques. The study of mining and ore use involves a range of questions about the acquisition of raw materials such as where did the material derive from and how, and by whom, were these materials selected and transported. These types of research problems can often be addressed through studies of sourcing and provenience. Hauptmann (1989) has compared ore samples found at sites such as Abu Matar, Bir es-Safadi, Wadi Ghazzeh, Jericho and Wadi Fidan 4, with those from mineralizations in the Faynan region. The results of these analyses, as well as most recent studies (Namdar et al. 2005), suggest that Faynan was the source for most of the ores found at the Chalcolithic settlements, although the mines of Timna cannot be ruled out (Rothenberg 1990b, 1972, see Chap. 7). Based on these types of data, it is also possible to address other issues such as the distance people were prepared to travel and trade in order to obtain the desired materials, and how important to them was the distinction between various materials. As for smelting technology, there is a great deal to be learned about the nature of Chalcolithic metal industries via technical studies of the archaeometallurgical remains. Through the analysis and interpretation of the remains of production we can establish how many steps were involved in the whole process, and thereby begin to answer questions about the division of labor and the scale of production. Evidence for copper production has been discovered at several Chalcolithic villages in the northern Negev, and a significant corpus of finished copper goods comes from sites throughout the southern Levant. Overall, the evidence suggests that a lively copper industry emerged toward the end of the period, yet many details about the technical aspects of smelting technology still elude us. There are also outstanding questions pertaining to technological change and development over time within these industries; thus we will examine evidence for change in materials used and/or produced, change in rate/volume of production, and change in production techniques. In addition to the evidence that has previously been published, this study will present new data on the archaeometallurgical assemblages from the Negev production centers of Abu Matar, Bir es-Safadi, and Shiqmim as well as recent data from Gilat and Nahal Tillah in our efforts to investigate the research problems outlined here.



The Dawn of the Metal Age

7

Summary The overall aim of this book is to understand the ways in which a new technology, namely metallurgy, helped transform society and how social change in turn transformed an industry. We will begin with a survey of Chalcolithic settlements and their material culture in an attempt to reconstruct a general culture history. We will then proceed by examining the substantial body of evidence that pertains directly to the processes of metal production. The primary goal behind the technical analysis of archaeometallurgical remains is to understand the production process so that we may address questions about metallurgy as a specialized craft and the organization of production in Chalcolithic societies. Thus while this portion of the discussion begins literally at the microscopic level, we quickly move toward questions about the people who were involved in metallurgy and how their work was organized (e.g. was there a division of labor?) We will also study this subject on a regional level, examining the evidence for the production and use of metal throughout the southern Levant. One particularly interesting problem concerns the accessibility of metal within Chalcolithic society, thus we must examine patterns in the distribution of copper within specific villages and throughout the broader region. Which villages had metal and which did not? We must also consider the different archaeological contexts in which metal has been recovered in order to assess its value and the nature of its use. Looking beyond the immediate region, we must search for the sources of raw material, and, perhaps, for the roots of the technology itself. Ultimately, it is questions about the way that technology impacted and was impacted by the social lives of Chalcolithic peoples that we are most concerned with. The overarching aim of this study is to recreate life in the late fifth and fourth millennium bc, when society witnessed rapid and dramatic changes in virtually all areas of social life. Indeed, it is not too far-fetched to suggest that the people of the southern Levantine Chalcolithic themselves had a sense that they were living in exciting times, a brilliant cultural phase which we will now explore in depth.

2

Leaving the Neolithic

Introduction Concerning the transition from the Neolithic to the Chalcolithic, it is often difficult to determine where one period ends and the other begins. As we will see, copper, the material considered the harbinger of Chalcolithic, does not even appear until several centuries into the period. Furthermore, much of the Neolithic population remained in the region as is now evident in the coastal region (Besor/ Qatif), the northern Negev (Gilat), and the lower Jordan Valley (Teleilat Ghassul), and there is clear continuity in many aspects of material culture, particularly the pottery assemblages (see below). If, however, we look ahead in the period, to what has been called by some the ‘Developed Chalcolithic’ (Joffe and Dessel 1995) there is indeed a stark contrast in terms of settlement patterns, material culture, and subsistence strategies, all of which reflect significant changes in society as a whole. It would be naïve to characterize Neolithic societies as ‘egalitarian’, but it is also clear that no ranked social structure had yet developed. Over the course of the next 1000 years things would change dramatically. By the end of the ensuing Chalcolithic period, we find not only significant advances in technology, but a complex socioeconomic structure with evidence for economic specialization and disparities in wealth and status passed from one generation to the next via lineages and kin groups. Examining the period as a whole, our primary concern is with the questions of how and why these critical changes occurred; thus, we begin with a discussion about when and where these developments took place. In recent years, a number of researchers (Burton and Levy 2001; Gilead 1994; Levy 1992a) have been grappling with issues concerning Chalcolithic chronology and as our present goal is to understand social change during this period it is particularly important that we have a reliable temporal framework within which to work. Therefore, in both this and the following chapter we will review evidence from a number of Chalcolithic sites, paying particularly close attention to material that pertains to the manufacture of metal as well as evidence that may have chronological value, so that we may be able to detect change within a dynamic context. This does not presume to be an exhaustive review, but rather a cursory survey designed to highlight certain features that will allow us to characterize social change during the course of the more than one thousand years ascribed to the Chalcolithic in the southern Levant. We begin this task by attempting to characterize the transition between the cultures of the Neolithic and the early Chalcolithic. Cultural Phase

Time Line

Late Neolithic: Yarmukian; Lodian

6000

Wadi Rabah

5500

Key Sites Jericho IX; Ziglab 200 Nahal Qanah (Neolithic Deposit) Munhata Nizzanim Munhata 2a; Wadi Rabah; ‘Ain el-Jarba; Teleilat Ghassul H-J; Tel Tsaf I; Jericho VIII Abu Hamid (Lower)



Leaving the Neolithic W.Rabah–Chalcolithic ‘Formative Chalcolithic’; ‘Pre-Ghassulian’ Early–Mid Chalcolithic ‘Ghassulian’ ‘Developed Chalcolithic’

4800

Late Chalcolithic ‘Beersheban’

4300

‘Developed Chalcolithic’

4000

Terminal Chalcolithic

3600

4600

9

Jericho VIII; Abu Hamid (Lower); Kfar Samir Uvda; Megadim; Beth Shean XVIII, Peqi’in Ghassul D-G; Golan 18; Neve Ur; Beth Shean XVII Grar; Gilat; Besor: Qatif Y-3; Abu Hof Peqi’in; Shiqmim 3-4; Cave of Warrior Ghassul C-A; Golan 12 Peqi’in; Nahal Qanah (Gold Dep.); Cave of Warrior Shiqmim 1-2; Beer Sheva Sites: Abu Matar/Bir esSafadi; Horvat Beter; Nahal Mishmar Givat HaOranim; Gilat (two ‘late’ dates) Lower Egypt: Maadi; Buto

Table 2.1 Chronological chart showing cultural phases and specific sites according to a general timeline based primarily on rounded dates.

The Late Neolithic-Chalcolithic Phase Population growth and settlement patterns

One of the most important changes to occur in the southern Levant at the end of the end of the fifth millennium bc was an increase in the population. The effect of population pressure on society has been a recurrent theme in the social sciences, and is often cited as a primary cause of social and political change. Of course, population increase does not necessarily mean population pressure, unless people feel a pinch on resources and/or find themselves in conflict with neighboring groups. Here we may wish to consider Carniero’s (1970) theory of circumscription whereby groups become ‘bounded’, either by environmental factors or by social boundaries, often resulting in competition for vital resources such as farmland and grazing pasture. This in turn would often result in warfare, which could then lead to political change. Processes similar to those described by Carniero (1970) could have been in Levantine Chalcolithic societies. If we look, for example, at the northern Negev where arable land was often limited to the floodplains adjacent to wadi drainage systems, it is plausible that there was competition for land. The same may be true of grazing land, where pastoralists vied for access to greener pastures. As for social circumscription, the archaeological record reflects the emergence of distinct sub-regional culture areas within the broader region, a phenomenon related to this overall population increase (Levy 2003). Distinct regional traditions have been observed throughout the southern Levant, for instance, in the Golan region, which spanned the Golan, the eastern Galilee, the Damascus Basin and northern Jordan (Epstein 1978, 1998; Hanbury-Tenison 1986). On the southern portion of the Mediterranean coast was the ‘Besoran’ Chalcolithic tradition (MacDonald et al. 1932; Roshwalb 1981), and the related ‘Qatifian’ (Gilead 1990; Oren and Gilead 1981); a Chalcolithic presence has been noted further north as well (Sukenik 1937). In the northern Negev, four cultural traditions—the Beer Sheva, Nahal Besor, Nahal Grar and Nahal Patish—emerged within an area of only 3,390 sq km (Levy 2003). There is also evidence for Chalcolithic occupation of the Hula Basin (Eisenberg 1987), the Jezreel and Beth Shean Valleys (Engberg and Shipton 1934), and the central highlands (de Vaux and Steve 1947; Gopher and Tsuk 1991, 1996). At least four sites found during surveys of the small valleys between the deep gorges of the western Samaria foothills have been identified as Chalcolithic based on the presence of pottery such as pedestaled bowls, holemouth jars, cornets and churns, as well as triangular and loop handles and fragments of footed basalt vessels. Based

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dawn of the metal age

on the ceramics Gophna and Tsuk (2005:14) recognize these small settlements as ‘Ghassulian’ while their burial practices involving secondary burials in ceramic ossuaries, suggest that their inhabitants had their cultural roots on the Coastal Plain. To the east, sub-regional cultural enclaves have been identified in the middle Jordan Valley (e.g. Tel Tsaf), the lower Jordan Valley (McNicoll et al. 1982; Bourke 2001), the Ammon Plain and Wadi Ajlun (de Contenson 1964; Dollfus and Ibrahim 1988; Dollfus and Kafafi 1993), the Central Plateau (Ibrahim 1987), and in the Judean Desert (Neuville and Mallon 1931; Bar Adon 1980; Ussishkin 1980). In many, if not all, of these cases, it is feasible that different groups experienced circumscription—both social and environmental—within their respective sub-regions leading to inter-group competition and setting in motion processes of sociopolitical change.

The origins of the Chalcolithic culture

Questions about the origins of the Chalcolithic cultures received a fair amount of attention during the 1950–70s (Perrot 1955; Kaplan 1969; de Vaux 1971; Moore 1973), and more recently in the 1990s (Gilead 1990; Gopher and Gophna 1993; Lovell 2001; Gopher 1998; Levy 2006). Generally speaking, archaeologists tend to disagree about whether the early Chalcolithic societies developed directly out of those of the local Neolithic or if the origins of Chalcolithic cultures should be sought elsewhere, outside of the southern Levant. Following what was at the time the most extensive investigation of a Chalcolithic site, Perrot argued that the appearance of the Beer Sheva culture in the northern Negev was rather sudden, suggesting that we must look for its origins outside Palestine (1955:185). Both de Vaux (1971) and Kenyon (1979) concur with this view, and all have pointed toward the north and/or east for the probable roots of the Chalcolithic culture. Chalcolithic pottery assemblages, in the ‘formative’ years display a strong Halafian influence, while some Ubaid elements appear as well (see below). In the meantime, Kaplan had initiated archaeological research in the Tel Aviv area, focusing on the latest phase of the Neolithic, and a regional culture that he called Wadi Rabah after the typesite (Kaplan 1958, 1969). According to Kaplan, the Ghassulian culture was a direct continuation of the Wadi Rabah horizon, also related to a cultural horizon identified in Stratum VIII of Jericho. He noted that people continued to use many of the same ceramic and stone tool types as well as the methods of constructing houses into the earliest phases of the Chalcolithic. Moore (1973) also agreed that the Chalcolithic culture developed in place directly out of the Neolithic, but argued that the innovation of metallurgical technology must have developed elsewhere first, and was subsequently imported into the region (this latter point, of course, is critical to our discussion and we will return to it later). Tracing the history of the Pottery Neolithic in the southern Levant, Gopher and Gophna (1993) present a strong case for the local development of the Ghassulian through the Yarmukian and Wadi Rabah cultural horizons. They describe the Yarmukian as being a ‘new socioeconomic system with new mechanisms for maintaining group identity or solidarity’ that eventually evolved into the Wadi Rabah culture, involving a rural agricultural system and an even more complex social structure (Gopher and Gophna 1993:346). They point out that rapid social change in the northern Levant (Syro-Cilicia) and Mesopotamia would have also influenced socioeconomic processes in the south. Evidence from the most recent excavations at Teleilat Ghassul, including radiometric data indicates that the Chalcolithic culture of the Jordan Valley ‘developed relatively smoothly out of the preceding Neolithic shortly after 5000 bc’ (Bourke 2001:5). This includes data from Wadi Ziglab 200 (Banning et al. 1996) Abu Hamid Lower (Dollfus and Kafafi 1993; Lovell 1997) and Ghassul (Bourke 2002a), where late Neolithic assemblages have been observed. We will now take a closer look at the archaeological evidence for the Wadi Rabah culture, exploring its possible roots and its influence on Chalcolithic culture.



The Wadi Rabah in relation to the Chalcolithic

Leaving the Neolithic

11

As it becomes increasingly clear that there was significant change not only in material culture, but in economic and social structure as well, we must ask a range of questions about what sparked these changes. For instance, where does the Wadi Rabah horizon fit in relation to the Chalcolithic culture and what was the impact of outside influences? As we have noted, a number of scholars (Perrot 1955; de Vaux 1971; Kenyon 1979) have argued that the Chalcolithic culture owes much to external forces, yet others have emphasized the homegrown aspects. According to Hennessy (1969, 1989), despite variation in ceramic styles, all change had occurred within a single tradition, and he believed that the ceramic tradition and the Ghassul culture in general had developed in situ (Bourke 1997a:255). Similarly, Moore (1973) has argued that the Chalcolithic of the southern Levant developed directly out of local late Neolithic traditions with limited stimuli from outside the region. Today, there is ample evidence demonstrating that, indeed, the Chalcolithic had strong local roots. The Wadi Rabah has been treated as an early Chalcolithic phase by some (Kaplan 1958; Mazar 1990; Garfinkel 1999b; Lovell 2001), or as a transitional phase between the two periods by others (Moore 1973). Kaplan (1972, 1960) was the first to propose that the Wadi Rabah culture might best be regarded as the earliest phase of the Levantine Chalcolithic. Examining material from the type-site itself, he suggested that there was overlap between the two assemblages, relating the latest level at Wadi Rabah (Str. I) to the Ghassulian. The earlier level (St. II) was seen as contemporaneous with Jericho VIII, although certain differences can be noted (Kaplan 1960). At Rabah, for example, there was both red and black burnished pottery, which was absent from Jericho, and the incised decoration typical of the Rabah pottery was absent from Jericho VIII as well (Kaplan 1960:32). This pattern suggests that Jericho VIII predates Ghassul, as Albright (1932) had originally argued, but was later than Wadi Rabah. Kaplan (1972) also points out that while more than half of the Jericho material has affinities with that from Ghassul, the Jericho complex is also less diverse than that from Wadi Rabah and may have been a degenerated phase of the Rabah culture. Kaplan has also argued that these sites represent a single sequence: Wadi Rabah, followed by Jericho VIII, then Ghassul. One ceramic type in particular, the cornet, is especially useful as a chronological indicator because it first appears in the late Neolithic Wadi Rabah complex, increases in popularity during the early-mid Chalcolithic, and all but disappears by the latter part of the period (see also Chap. 5). The cornet is an elongated, cone-shaped cup. The upper part of the cornet is often thin and fragile, like that of the ‘V-shape’ vessel, with a diameter of roughly 7-11 cm. It is possible, in fact, that in some cases cornets have been misidentified as the latter. The pointed base forms a solid cone or cylinder, and it is these bases that are most commonly recognized in archaeological contexts, owing to their thickness. Cornets are sometimes red-slipped on the exterior and are often decorated with red-painted horizontal bands on the body and rim. The function of the cornet is unclear. It has been suggested that it may have served some special purpose, perhaps used in some sort of drinking ritual or libation practice (Alon and Levy 1980; Amiran 1989; Cameron 1995; Koeppel et al. 1940). During excavations at Ghassul, a group of over 30 broken cornets were found in a small storage room (Rm. 81) that was associated with a cultic complex (Bourke 2002a). Cornets were popular at Gilat and were by far the most common at Ein Gedi, two other Chalcolithic shrines (see below). Gilead (1988), however, has argued that cornets also appear in domestic settings, and may have had more pedestrian uses. Cornets and pots with pierced lug handles, another form common in the Chalcolithic, appeared in the latest levels at Wadi Rabah (Level 2), suggesting that occupation of the site overlapped with the beginnings of the Chalcolithic (Moore 1973); it is possible, however, that the deposits were mixed. Cornets have also been found at ‘Ain el-Jarba, where the lithic assemblage—with axes, chisels, awls, scrapers, and sickle blades, in addition to two stone maceheads—also foreshadows the beginning of the Chalcolithic.

12

dawn of the metal age

Several novel cultural practices can be observed for the first time in the southern Levant during the Wadi Rabah phase. This is particularly true with regard to the adoption of new burial customs, which often is a sign of the arrival of new peoples. One new practice, the burial of infants in jars, has been observed in the north at Tel Dan (Gopher and Greenberg 1987), Tel Teo (Eisenberg 1987), Byblos, Neolithic Ancien (Dunand 1973), Teluliot Batashi, level III, and also at Qatif Y-3 (Epstein 1984). At the site of Nahal Zehorah II evidence for unique burial practices have been discovered in Wadi Rabah layers. There were two fetus burials—one in a jar and one in a small, stone-slab ‘cist’—and a child burial surrounded by stones, the skull replaced with a massive stone (Gopher and Orelle 1995). The jar burials, in particular, became even more common in the Chalcolithic, occurring at both Gilat and Ghassul. The tradition of burying long bones in ceramic ossuaries, a practice epitomized by over 200 examples in the Peqi’in burial cave (see Chap. 4), derives in part from the jar burial tradition. The construction of cist tombs also carried on into the Chalcolithic, with various forms of stone-built structures uncovered at Shiqmim (Levy and Alon 1985) as well as Adeimeh and Bab edh-Dhra, though the dating of the latter is in question (see Chap. 4). According to Gopher and Orelle (1995:28), the use of jar burials is indicative of social change, specifically with regard to attitudes toward the young and childbearing, and an emphasis on family lines and lineage. In addition to the jar burials, a number of ceramic forms with Wadi Rabah elements (e.g. painted wares) have been discovered in the earliest cultural levels at both Gilat (Commenge et al. 2006) and Ghassul (Lovell 2001), two of the most prominent Early-Mid Chalcolithic settlements. The Wadi Rabah ceramic assemblage also reflects advances in ceramic production technology. Most pottery was typically made using the coil method, where the pot is made by building up rings of clay, though at sites such as Munhata and Gilat the use of a slab method was preferred over coils. Pot rims were often finished on a slow wheel, or tournette (Kaplan 1960) and this seems to represent the earliest evidence for slow-wheel technology in the region. Common vessel forms include rounded bowls, carinated bowls, and what may be an early form of the ‘V-shape’ bowl, a well-known Chalcolithic type. We must be careful not to force this evidence into a simplistic developmental sequence, and Commenge (2001) is correct in pointing out that there are many dimensions to the late Neolithic and Chalcolithic pottery assemblages, complicating attempts to impose order.

Transition to the Chalcolithic By midway through the fifth millennium bc, and probably earlier, there were signs that change was afoot in the southern Levant. Notable modifications in ceramic and lithic assemblages reflect changes in subsistence patterns and domestic life. The first appearance of cist tombs (see Chapter 4) represents changes in the social structure, while the emergence of several large cult centers indicates new religious practices. We will now examine some of the key data from late fifth– early fourth millennium sites in order to track these developments through the archeological evidence.

Nizzanim

Another interesting site is the small village of Nizzanim, located on the Mediterranean coast, about 5 km north of Ashqelon, on the Wadi Nevtah. There are two separate sites at Nizzanim: an Early Bronze Age site on the northern side of the wadi, and on the southern bank, a late Neolithic site. It is the latter site, which was excavated during four seasons between 1968–1970 by Yeivin and Olami (1979), with which we are concerned here.



Leaving the Neolithic

13

The material culture from Nizzanim generally falls within the range of the Pottery Neolithic (PN) phase, which immediately preceded the Wadi Rabah (Commenge-Pellerin 1990). Yet when compared with sites typical of the PN such as Sha’ar Hagolan (Stekelis 1972) and Munhata (Perrot 1966) the ceramic assemblage is different. Several features such as holemouth-type rims and applied features such as ledge and knob handles and pierced lug handles, which continue into the Chalcolithic, appear at Nizzanim; early holemouth jars also appear at Munhata and Sha’ar Hagolan (Stekelis 1972). Affinities between this assemblage and that of Teluliot Batashi (Str. IV) have also been noted (Yeivin and Olami 1979; see also, Kaplan 1958: figs. 7-8). The lithic assemblage from Nizzanim also indicates a post-Yarmukian date for the site (Olami, Burian, and Friedman 1977; Gopher 1989; Gopher and Gophna 1993). One radiocarbon sample, taken from bone, has produced a mid-sixth millennium bc date (HV-8509, 6740 ± 90 BP).1 Of particular interest are the several fragments of copper ore discovered at Nizzanim. One of these (Niz/293/M) was a small lump of either chrysocolla or malachite, found on the site surface, while the other, from Layer I (Niz/110), was a copper sulfide (chalcocite and malachite?). Both of these ores appear to have derived from a sandstone matrix. A third piece (Niz/182), from Layer V, was described as a combination of hematite and malachite, thought to come from the Sinai (Yeivin and Olami 1979:132). Two pieces identified as manganese ore were also discovered, both from Layer V. The ore was almost certainly treated as a decorative item, used either as a valuable stone or for preparing colored paint, but not for smelting. These artifacts along with those from some of earliest Chalcolithic sites demonstrate that people were familiar with copper minerals from the Neolithic (e.g. the Nahal Hemar mask) through the early Chalcolithic, though there was as yet no knowledge of metal.

Jericho VIII

The famous tell site of Jericho was also occupied around this time. ‘Ghassulian’ features were first discovered by Garstang et al. (1935) in level VIII, which also contained Wadi Rabah elements. A recent re-study of material from the site has revealed still more ‘Ghassulian’ elements in the ceramic assemblage, such as deep hemispherical bowls and spouted holemouth jars, in addition to other typical ‘Ghassulian’ features such as pierced handles and thumbimpressed rims (Garfinkel 1999a). There are also ceramics with painted decoration in the Jericho VIII assemblage, which like that of the Wadi Rabah style pottery, display a strong Halafian influence. It is also important to note that this level was just above the Late Neolithic Level IX, which attests to the local roots of the ‘Ghassulian culture’ at the same time that foreign (Halaf) influences are evident.

Early Besor (Ghazzeh) Sites and the ‘Qatifian’ Culture

Another candidate for a regional sub-culture and/or sub-phase is the so-called Qatifian. The site of Qatif (Y-3) has been proposed as the type-site for a distinct archaeological subculture (Gilead 1990, 1994; Gilead and Alon 1988; Goren 1990). The definition of the ‘Qatifian’ is based largely on the discovery of a unique form of rather poor quality pottery, as well as unique trends observed in the lithic assemblage, particularly sickle blades (Gilead 1990:55) at a group of small, short-lived sites in the Nahal Besor/Wadi Ghazzeh region (Macdonald et al. 1932). There have also been attempts to identify the ‘Qatifian’ at sites outside of this region, such as Faynan and Ghassul (Gilead 1990; Goren 1990). Archaeologists working at the latter (Lovell 2001; Bourke 1997b, see below) have generally rejected this idea, as does the excavator at Tell Faynan (Weisgerber, personal communication). Qatif (Y-3): the ‘type site’. The site of Qatif (Y-3) is located on the coastal strip south of Gaza, 300 m north of Tell Qatif.2 Excavations at this small farming village uncovered layers of cultural

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material reaching a depth of some 2 m, indicating a fairly long occupation. Architectural remains at the site are ephemeral, but houses have been identified based on clay-built hearths and living surfaces represented by hard-packed sand that may have been the floors of light structures (Gilead 1990:48). The ceramic assemblage includes forms that may be tentatively called early Chalcolithic, such as holemouth jars with loop handles, and straight-walled bowls, which may be an early prototype for the ‘V-shaped’ vessel. The pottery was hand-made with straw-tempered fabric described as crumbly and poorly fired (Gilead 1990). The lithic assemblage from the site, which is dominated by broad, flat sickle blades that are usually truncated and bear fine denticulation, indicates that farming was the primary subsistence activity. The people of Qatif also used trapezoidal, elongated or elliptical axes. Small arrowheads also appear at the site, indicating that hunting was still practiced. The remains of sheep, goat, cattle and above all pig, which make up 25% of the site’s faunal assemblage, indicate that a significant portion of the diet came from animal husbandry. Gilead (1990) points out that the presence of pig bones in such high proportions refutes Epstein’s (1984) claim that semi-nomadic groups used the site. It is also noted here that this pattern of animal exploitation conforms to the model proposed in Chapter 4, whereby pigs were associated with a phase of settlement that was focused in the more humid zones, where pigs could thrive; it also appears that this phase of settlement was somewhat earlier than the occupation of the Beer Sheva sites. Some of the other early sites in the Besor region, such as Site P14 and D11 (near the Qatif site), may also contain elements of the so-called Qatifian, specifically the poor quality, straw-tempered pottery and lithic assemblages dominated by sickle blades. The relation between Qatif and the sites (Sites A, B, D, and M), discovered during earlier investigation of the region (MacDonald et al. 1932) is not clear. A similar pattern of material culture has also been observed at Teluliot Batashi, where additional features considered diagnostic of the Qatifian include thick bases with rounded reed impressions and basins decorated with vertical thumb impressions (Kaplan 1960). The earliest levels of Ghassul, described by Hennessy (1969, 1989) as ‘Pre-Ghassulian’, contain coarse wares and bases with the rounded mat impression, and therefore it has been proposed that they should also be regarded as Qatifian (Goren 1990). Renewed research at Ghassul, however, does not seem to support this reconstruction (Lovell 2001; Bourke 1997b). In fact, it is more likely that these features reflect a shared technology, for instance, the reed impressions observed on the bases of these vessels represent a specific method of production (Commenge 2006), but need not be considered a stylistic feature diagnostic of a cultural horizon. It has also been suggested that Wadi Fidan 4 fits within the Qatifian horizon (Gilead 1990), but this now seems unlikely as the Wadi Fidan 4 site can now be confidently dated to the EB1a (see Chapter 3). Compared with the material culture from Nizzanim, the Qatifian sites differ in significant ways. Specific elements from the ceramic assemblage of Nizzanim, most notably the knob and ledge handles, grit-tempered fabric, and use of burnishing and painted decoration were clearly absent from the Qatifian sites. And while these may represent distinct offshoots of the late Neolithic-early Chalcolithic, there is disagreement concerning which of these (Nizzanim or Qatif) was earlier (Gilead 1990; Gopher and Gophna 1993). The most pertinent question here is whether the Qatifian represents a distinct archaeological culture that was ancestral to the copper-bearing Chalcolithic culture that ultimately emerged in the northern Negev. Garfinkel (1999b) refers to it as ‘Qatifian Ware’. Gopher and Gophna (1993) at one point refer to the Qatifian as a ‘culture’ while also suggesting that it might be more accurately described as a variant of the Wadi Rabah culture. In other words, the more widespread Wadi Rabah tradition represents the direct forerunner of the developed Chalcolithic, while the Qatifian was but one facie of a larger cultural entity.



Leaving the Neolithic

15

Middle Jordan Valley Sites

The middle Jordan Valley was also an area of settlement around this time, though archaeological research has been limited (Tsori 1958; Gophna and Sadeh 1989). According to Bourke (2002:5), the Chalcolithic of the Jordan Valley should be viewed as ‘later than the Qatifian and early Rabah/ Munhata complexes, and contemporary with the later Rabah/Tel Tsaf and Besoran/Beersheban complexes’ (Stager 1992; Gilead 1994); it will be argued below, however, that while the Beer Sheva phase overlapped with settlement in these areas, the Beer Sheva occupation continues for some time after the Jordan Valley sites were abandoned. Tel Tsaf. The site of Tel Tsaf lies roughly 11 km southeast of Beth Shean, near the Jordan River. This small farming village was established on virgin soil, with homes built of ‘plano-convex’ mudbricks. Recent investigations (2004–2007) of Tel Tsaf ’s upper phases have revealed nearly 800 sq m of a densely built-up settlement dating to c. 5200–4500 Cal bc (Garfinkel et al. 2007). Architectural features include courtyard buildings that incorporate facilities for large-scale surplus storage in the form of rounded silos. According to archaeological survey, Tel Tsaf may have reached 20 hectares at its peak. The ceramics from Tel Tsaf feature fine wares with intricately painted decorations. The assemblage includes hemispherical bowls, goblets, small amphoriskoi, necked jars, holemouth jars and ‘V-shape’ vessels; many of the jars had loop handles or small pierced lug handles. Most distinctive about the Tsaf pottery is the variety of methods of surface treatment and decoration employed by their makers. The ceramics were often treated with a red slip and painted with geometric bichrome designs. One common motif used black triangles and bands filled with lattice designs, and red bands were sometimes painted on the inside of the vessel rim. A method of high burnishing was also often applied to the vessel surface. It is of particular interest that this style of pottery decoration resembles that of the northern Mesopotamia/Syrian Halaf tradition, though only a few of the motifs from the diverse Halaf repertoire have been observed at Tel Tsaf. The Tsaf-style pottery also appears in conjunction with other elements (e.g. applied decoration) that recall the Wadi Rabah style as observed at ‘Ain el Jarba (Kaplan 1969) and Munhata (Perrot 1968; Garfinkel 1992), and has parallels in the middle to later phases at Ghassul (Hennessy 1969). Based on the pottery assemblage, as well as the flint, it appears that Tel Tsaf dates to later than the Wadi Rabah phase but earlier than the Ghassulian (Lovell 2001; Gophna and Sadeh 1989); radiocarbon data suggest an early–mid-fifth millennium date (Garfinkel et al. 2007). This Tsaf-style pottery has also been observed at other sites in the middle Jordan Valley. The pottery assemblages from Tel es-Shunah I, Beth Shean (level XVIII), and Tell Abu Habil I and II are similar to that from Tsaf, though these lack the painted pots (de Contenson 1960; Gopher and Gophna 1993). Similar ceramics, including the painted wares have been found at Kateret es-Samra (see Leonard 1985). It appears that early wares were rougher with sloppier decoration, a pattern observed at Abu Hamid (basal layers), Beth Shean (Str. XVIII and pits), Ghrubba, and probably Megiddo (Str. XIX) (Dollfus and Kafafi 1993; Lovell 1997; Fitzgerald 1935, Mellaart 1956; Shipton 1939). A later phase was characterized by finer ceramics with a more careful execution of the painted decorations, as evidenced by finds from Teleilat Ghassul, Kateret es-Shamra and Tel Tsaf; the latter ceramics appear in conjunction with Wadi Rabah ceramics at Ghassul (Lovell 2001) and Kataret es-Samra (Leonard 1989). Bourke (1997b) has referred to the phases at Ghassul that have these Tsaf-style ceramics as the Middle, or ‘Pre-Classic’ Ghassulian, while maintaining that this phase is distinct from the Wadi Rabah. It is also noteworthy that archaeologists working at Tel Tsaf have discovered large-scale cooking facilities in association with a concentration of pig bones around and within cooking facilities, and a concentration of discarded pig parts in one location (Ben Shlomo et al. 2009). This has been interpreted as evidence for feasting, conducted as part of relatively large-scale events utilizing pig meat provisioned from household resources.

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dawn of the metal age

Looking at the pottery from the Middle Jordan Valley as a group, Gophna and Sadeh (1989) suggest that it may represent a distinct regional variant of the late Neolithic/Wadi Rabah, pointing out that it clearly foreshadows elements of the later Chalcolithic and thereby represents a chronological link between the Neolithic and Chalcolithic periods. According to Gophna and Sadeh (1989:42), ‘the existence of a strong painted pottery style in this part of the Middle Jordan Valley in the fifth millennium, and its continuance…at Teleilat Ghassul, may be considered the last appearance of the impact of the Halafian painted pottery styles on the Levant.’ Based largely on the decorated wares several scholars have suggested the use of the term Levantine Halafian (Wright 1951; Perrot 1968; Mellaart 1975:236–43). Kaplan (1960:36), of course, searched for the roots of the Wadi Rabah culture in the Halafian, arguing that the Chalcolithic pottery of Palestine represented by the finds at Ghassul, Jericho VIII, and Wadi Rabah showed a strong Halafian influence. It now seems that the strength of the Halafian influence varied from area to area and this terminology cannot be simply applied to the region as a whole (Gopher and Gophna 1993). Most of what is known about settlement in the middle Jordan Valley during the Chalcolithic comes from regional surveys. A site identified at Bezek Channel seems to be later than Tel Tsaf but earlier than the Ghassulian (Sadeh and Gophna 1991). The ceramics are much like that from Tel Tsaf including jars with everted rims, and hole-mouth jars, as well as a bowl with red triangles reminiscent of the Wadi Rabah tradition. But the use of loop-handles and the appearance of the churn, which would become a vital part of the dairy production tool kit during the Chalcolithic, were both diagnostic features of the developed Chalcolithic and indicate that the Bezek Channel site was somewhat later. A similar pattern was encountered at the site of Sde Eliyahu (Sadeh and Gophna 1991), where Chalcolithic-style churns appear. Other aspects of this assemblage such as the small size of jar necks and the addition of loop handles together with pierced lugs are similar to material from Ghassul, hinting that the site may be even later than Bezek. At the same time, typical features of the Ghassulian, such as the pierced lugs that are triangular in section, were notably absent, suggesting that the assemblage is somewhat earlier than the ‘classical Ghassulian’ (Sadeh and Gophna 1991:143). Based on the evidence from these three sites (Tel Tsaf, Bezek Channel, and Sde Eliyahu), Sadeh and Gophna (1991) have proposed a tentative chronological sequence for the middle Jordan Valley as follows: Munhata 2A represents the Wadi Rabah phase, followed by a late Rabah-early Chalcolithic phase observed at Tel Tsaf, Beth Shean (XVIII), Tell es-Shunah (I), Abu Habil (I and II). The late Pottery Neolithic phase at Hayonim Terrace may also be attributed to late Wadi Rabah/Early Chalcolithic (Khalaily et al. 1993). Bezek Channel, followed by Sde Eliahu, may be slightly later and more typical of the Chalcolithic. By the time that sites such as Quarantine Station, Delhamiya, Neve-Ur, and Beth Shean (XVII) were occupied, the beginning of the Chalcolithic was underway (Sadeh and Gophna 1991). It is worth noting that a phase which includes the presence of Tel Tsaf-style painted wares occurs at Teleilat Ghassul, extending from the middle to the late phases at the site. But while this pottery group enjoyed relatively long-lived currency at Ghassul, it never comprised more than a small portion of the entire assemblage (Lovell 2001). According to Gophna and Sadeh (1989), the group from Ghassul is somewhat different from the Tel Tsaf ceramics of the Jordan Valley sites, but Lovell (2001) prefers to stress the similarities. A tentative chronological sequence for the middle Jordan Valley has been proposed by Sadeh and Gophna (1991), whereby Munhata 2A represents the Wadi Rabah phase, followed by a late Rabahearly Chalcolithic phase observed at Tel Tsaf, Beth Shean (XVIII), Tell es-Shunah (I), Abu Habil (I and II). The late Pottery Neolithic phase at Hayonim Terrace may also be attributed to a late Wadi Rabah/ Early Chalcolithic (Khalaily et al. 1993), though this material is not from stratified contexts. Bezek Channel, followed by Sde Eliahu, may be slightly later. By the time that sites such as Quarantine



Leaving the Neolithic

17

Station, Delhamiya, Neve-Ur (see below) and Beth Shean (XVII) were occupied, material culture indicative of the beginning of the Chalcolithic is apparent (Sadeh and Gophna 1991). Incidentally, Garfinkel (1999b) has proposed that a form of pottery typified by ceramics from Beth Shean Level XVIII, i.e. Beth Shean Ware (BSW), be equated with what he calls the ‘Middle Chalcolithic’. This terminology, however, has not been widely accepted (Banning 2001; Braun 2004). Braun (2004) has taken issue with several of Garfinkel’s (1999b) assertions, in particular Garfinkel’s uncritical use of evidence from FitzGerald’s excavations; Braun sees intermixing of Neolithic, Chalcolithic and EB1 ceramics in the latter’s Level XVIII, thus disputing Beth Shean’s use as a type site. Other problems concern the definition of this type (BSW) morphologically as well as chronologically (see Braun 2004:39–44 for an extensive critique). Braun rather opts to use the much broader term ‘Late Neolithic/Early Chalcolithic’ (LN/EC) for the pre-EB ceramics found in Beth Shean XVIII and XVII, only because it is currently difficult to be more precise with any degree of certainty. For the present author, the most difficult aspect of Garfinkel’s reconstruction is that by calling this phase ‘Middle Chalcolithic’ he leaves no room for the Beer Sheva phase, which should be considered late. His ‘Late Chalcolithic’ is defined in part by the presence of cornets, a form which disappears before Beer Sheva flourishes, and perhaps shortly after the first appearance of copper in the region (see below). As it happens, no metal has been discovered in either Beth Shean XVIII or XVII, and the metal artifacts from Beth Shean XVI—an adze, an axe head, a knife blade, two needles and an awl—all seem more akin to EB 1 types, at least in terms of their style and form. Lovell’s (1999) use of the term ‘Middle Chalcolithic’ for the assemblage at Ghassul is more consistent with the sequence espoused here, for instance, her definition of ‘Middle Chalcolithic’ includes cornets. Lovell, however, also identifies a ‘Late Chalcolithic’ phase at Ghassul, while here it will be argued that the Beer Sheva sites represent a phase that succeeded the final phase at Ghassul, and thus should be regarded as the late Chalcolithic.

Early Chalcolithic Communities For roughly one millennium (ca. 4500–3500 bc), the northern Negev Desert played host to a thriving culture. A series of relatively large villages emerged along the network of seasonal riverbeds, which at the time may have had standing water for a considerable part of the year (see below) (Levy 1987). As noted already, it will be argued here that the Beer Sheva sites, situated deeper into what is today the semi-arid zone, were occupied later in the period, but several of the earliest and largest Chalcolithic settlements, including Gilat, were located just a few kilometers to the north (Levy 2006; Levy 1987).

Gilat

The Gilat site, located along on a small rise on the east bank of the Wadi Patish roughly 18km northwest of modern-day Beer Sheva, was first discovered in the early 1950s as a result of deep plowing activities by the modern farmers of Moshav Gilat. The rich assemblage of archaeological material was immediately apparent, and research under the direction of David Alon commenced in 1975. Three seasons were carried out from 1975–77 (Alon 1977), another season in 1987 (Alon and Levy 1989), and three seasons between 1990–92 with Thomas E. Levy as co-director (Levy 2006). Four main strata, which are further divided into seven sub-strata have been identified at the 10 ha site, the primary occupation levels being Strata IIIA, IIC, IIB and IIA (Levy et al. 2006a). Stratum I, the latest level, has been severely damaged by recent plowing activity, which has also affected Stratum II although to a lesser degree. In the much better preserved Stratum III, extensive architectural remains have been excavated, while Stratum IV, the earliest level has seen only limited exposure. Elements

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dawn of the metal age

of the Wadi Rabah tradition observed in ceramics from the earliest levels at Gilat (Str. IV) reflect the early cultural roots of this settlement (Commenge et al. 2006), but there is virtually no evidence for occupation at Gilat either prior or subsequent to the Chalcolithic (Levy 2006). Subsistence and economy at Gilat. Gilat’s location falls just inside what is today the 200+ mm isohyet, the theoretical line that delineates the area where there is the minimal amount of rainfall required for practicing dry-farming. Subsistence was based on a combination of agricultural and pastoral production. Wheat and barley were the primary crops grown, while the production of pastoral goods is evident in the faunal assemblage along with ceramic churns used in dairy goods production. In addition to the processing of dairy goods, bone tools, spindle whorls and tabular scrapers all point to a thriving textile industry at Gilat (Levy et al. 2006b). According to Levy, it is significant that the site is strategically located at the confluence of varying ecological zones, as Gilat’s rise to prominence as a cult center, ‘signals the establishment of an institution for mitigating the utilization of social and environmental resources in the region’ (1996:170). Moreover, patterns of consumption at the site suggest that the people of Gilat ‘promoted and probably monitored the interregional circulation of commodities’ (Levy and Kansa in Commenge 2006). The lithic assemblage from Gilat is dominated by blade tools as well as axes and adzes, most of which are made of flint from local wadi cobbles. One outstanding form is the fan-shape scraper, made from the so-called ‘tabular flint’ a fine quality, chocolate-colored material with a white cortex left on and carefully ground to a smooth finish. It is not clear in many cases whether these were ever used. The fan-shaped scraper tradition actually began back in the Neolithic, while some of the artifacts made from this material more closely resemble blades, i.e. ‘proto-Canaanean blades’ (Rowan and Levy 1994). Micro-end scrapers made from an extremely fine flint are typical of the earlier Chalcolithic. A number of micro-end scrapers have been found at Gilat, and there is evidence for their production in the way of blade blanks and a rare bladelet core (Rowan 2006). Typical ceramic forms from Gilat include ‘V-shape’ bowls, jars and pithoi, and churns in addition to cylindrical vessels and conical beakers with nail-impressed designs (Commenge 2002).

Figure 2.1 Burial from Gilat with ‘V-shape’ bowl included as burial offering, in upper left corner (Photo by J. Golden).



Leaving the Neolithic

19

The cult center at Gilat. The material culture of Gilat is rich and diverse, and the eccentric nature of many artifacts coupled with their discovery in a complex of large public buildings reflects Gilat’s role as a large cultic center (Levy 2006; Levy et al. 2006a). One line of evidence concerns the presence of ceremonial vessels, many concentrated in Area J (Levy and Kansa in Commenge 2006). At least two types of vessels found at Gilat appear to be entirely unique to this village. One form is the miniature churn, which is interesting in that it is generally too small to have been efficient in the processing of dairy goods since the processing of a small batch requires a comparable amount of time to the processing of a larger one. The other vessel type is the so-called ‘torpedo’ jar, an elongated form reminiscent of amphorae, which are often as large as 65 cm, with walls 3 cm thick that make them rather heavy. In most cases, there is a double handle near the vessel rim. While over one hundred examples of the ‘torpedo’ jar have been found at Gilat, they appear nowhere else, save a single sherd from near Beit Guvrin (Gophna in Levy 1996:173). The function of these vessels remains enigmatic, but there may be a cultic association (Alon and Levy 1989; Levy 1996). Petrographic studies suggest that they were manufactured at as many as five locations, none in the immediate vicinity of Gilat (Goren 1987), and Levy (1996), applying central place theory (Renfrew 1982), suggests they may have come to the site by way of pilgrims bringing various goods such as the olive oil contained in the ‘torpedo’ jars (Burton and Levy 2006, 2001). In a number of instances, the ‘torpedo’ jars appear to have been intentionally broken at the site, perhaps in some ritual. Cornets, which may have had some ritual function, are also relatively common at Gilat (a ‘mock’ cornet can be seen protruding from the back of a ceramic ram from Gilat, see Fig. 2.3). Gilat, with over 60 ‘violin-shaped’ figurines, has by far the largest corpus of any site; as Commenge succinctly states, ‘Violin-shape figurines are numerous at Gilat yet relatively rare in Palestine as a whole’ (Commenge et al. 2006:753). These figurines seem to represent some form of abstracted version of a female, especially the examples with breasts, and may have some cultic association (Levy 1987). Their interpretation as ceremonial goods (e.g. for libation or dedication) also seems to find support when the context of these finds is considered; for example, a concentration of fragmented figurines recovered south of the large open area (in Squares K5, J5 and J6) (Levy and Kansa, in Commenge 2006). It is important to note that the various stones (e.g. limestone, calcite, marble and greenstone) used to make them were in many cases brought in from outside the region (Goren 1995). Other ritual paraphernalia found in the sanctuary area at Gilat include groundstone palettes and fenestrated, or high-footed, basalt stands which may have been used for burning incense. In Room A alone there were some 68 artifacts with some form of symbolic function, supporting the idea that it was part of a cultic complex. Two of the most outstanding examples of Chalcolithic sculptural art—the so-called ‘Gilat Lady’ or ‘Woman with Churn’ (Fig. 2.2) and ‘Ram with Cornets’ (Fig. 2.3)—both come from Room A. The ‘Woman with Churn’ depicts a woman who sits on what may be a birthing stool, holding a churn on her head with one hand while she tucks another object, either a second birthing stool or a drum under her arm. It is not clear what the irregular-shaped bands of red paint on the figure’s body represent, though it has been suggested they represent either tattoos (Alon 1976), body painting (Fox 1997), or perhaps henna (Joffe et al. 2001). Although there seems to be a consensus that the ‘Woman with Churn’, relates to ritual beliefs concerning fertility (Alon 1976; Amiran 1989; Fox 1995; Levy 1996; Weippert 1998; Joffe et al. 2001), there is disagreement concerning the statue’s precise function. According to Fox (1995:225) both the ram and female figures from Gilat represent the ritual paraphernalia of a cult ‘centered on milk and/or water, in which birth, death and rebirth were perceived as cyclical, ensuring the revival of the dead’. Levy (1996:170, 2003) has suggested that the Gilat statues reflect a ‘concern with forces of nature associated with both human and animal

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dawn of the metal age

fertility’. Joffe et al. (2001:18), however, argue that the woman represents a human being and not a deity, suggesting that she served as the focal point for concerns about marriage, childhood and maturation. While the general style of representation and incorporation of local vessel types (e.g. cornets and churns) can be seen in the two ceramic statues from Gilat and the bull from Ein Gedi is clearly native to the region, these Levantine examples also have affinities with traditions from elsewhere in the Near East. Joffe et al. (2001) have pointed to examples from the Halaf and Ubaid cultures, where ceramic figurines of females have surface treatment implying some sort of body decoration. Levy (1996) has also drawn parallels to the Mesopotamian concept of ‘Gods as Providers’, where people sought to understand and appease, if not control, the forces of nature that were vital to their survival and economic success (Jacobsen 1976). Many of the artifacts that may have possible cultic associations have been found in association with large public buildings (Alon and Levy 1989). In addition, several ritual standing stones, called massebot, have also been discovered. Considering all of these finds, there can be no doubt

Figure 2.2 ‘Lady with Churn’—ceramic sculpture from Gilat depicting a seated female figure with a churn on her head; the seat, which may be a birthing stool, and the churn, used in pastoral production, may indicate that the statue relates to rituals associated with fertility; height = 31 cm, width 14.5 cm (Illustration courtesy UCSD Levantine Archaeology Lab, drawing by Michal Ben-Gal).



Leaving the Neolithic

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Figure 2.3 ‘Ram with Cornets’—ceramic sculpture from Gilat depicting a ram with three cornet vessels protruding from the back; height 23 cm, length 27.5 cm (Illustration courtesy UCSD Levantine Archaeology Lab, drawing by Michal BenGal).

that some form of ritual activity was carried out at the site (Alon and Levy 1989). We have also noted Gilat’s role as the main center for a broad region, as suggested by the import of goods and materials from elsewhere. Surely the monumental buildings at Gilat would have stood as the most prominent structures on the Negev landscape at the time, while the large open ‘plazas’ adjacent to the sanctuary and other structures could have accommodated a large number of visitors (Levy 2006; Levy et al. 2006a). The topic of Gilat’s role as cult center will be raised again in the discussion that follows, and we must also keep in mind that Gilat would have served as an important economic center. Many of the site’s visitors may have been there on business, exchanging animals and produce (e.g. olives) as well as craft goods. Several large stone-lined silos probably used for the storage of grain have also been found at Gilat, suggesting centralized storage and the pooling of resources (Levy 2003). Of course, an agricultural surplus was important because it could be used to finance a variety of specialized activities, and may indicate the presence of some form of political body needed to oversee and administer these activities. Another interesting group of finds from Gilat are ‘greenstones’, or low-grade copper ores such as plancheite with (par)atacamite and chrysocolla. As we have noted, during the Neolithic and the beginning of the Chalcolithic this material was carved and ground and generally treated as any other decorative stone, but the potential for smelting was as yet unrecognized. Several large chunks, which appear to be in ‘raw’ or unprocessed form, may have been used for the production of beads. No metal or evidence for the processing of metal has been found at the site (despite what is reported in the original publication) (Alon 1977). It will be argued below, in fact, that the

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occupation of Gilat preceded the local advent of metallurgy, thereby explaining the lack of copper at the site (see Chapters 4–6). Eight calibrated (1 sigma) radiocarbon dates currently available from Gilat range from ca. 4774–3093 bc (Levy 2006:833). At least two of these radiocarbon dates3 run well into the fourth millennium (see Levy 1992a; Carmi and Segal 1992; Burton and Levy 2001), complicating the chronological picture presented by the material culture; this and related issues will be addressed in subsequent chapters.

Grar

Grar is a small village on the banks of the Nahal Grar, roughly 10km north of Gilat, excavated under the direction of Gilead (1989, 1995). The site actually comprises a cluster of small to medium-sized occupation units, rather than a single, contiguous site, thus making it difficult to ascertain the overall size of the village. Each household unit consisted of a small structure with a courtyard that was often surrounded by numerous pits. As at Gilat, the architectural foundations were made of mudbrick, as opposed to the stone foundations found at sites to the south. Several pit burials have been discovered at Grar. The pottery of Grar was mainly locally produced, with a few exceptions (Goren 1987). The assemblage at Grar is rather similar to that found at Gilat. As at the latter, cornets were common, and other diagnostic ceramic forms include churns, mini-churns, and spoons. The term ‘Cream Ware’, which is also common at Grar, refers to a style of ceramic that comprises a number of different vessel forms, all made from an extremely fine, grit tempered fabric, the best example being the ‘V-shaped’ bowl. Dever defines Cream Ware as ‘light buff-to-cream, finely levigated with virtually no inclusions; the wares are feather-light, egg shell thin, very well fired and sometimes metallic’ (1974:13). Cream Ware may actually represent a Middle Chalcolithic form, while cornets appear to be earlier. The lithic assemblage from Grar was dominated by flakes (roughly 60%) and blades (13%). Sickle blades were the most common tool type, constituting 25% of the assemblage—a pattern that differs significantly from the assemblages of the later Beer Sheva sites (Gilead 1989). Some 10% of the lithic assemblage includes microlithics such as bladelets and micro-end scrapers, forms which may also represent an earlier phase of the Chalcolithic. Another important similarity to Gilat is the complete absence of copper at Grar, a fact which is critical to our definition of the earlier, pre-metallic Chalcolithic phase as outlined here. It may yet turn out to be true that the absence of metal at Grar may represent a regional phenomenon; in other words, Grar’s citizens were deprived of access to this new innovation. But it will be argued here that the distribution of copper throughout the northern Negev more likely reflects change over time accompanied by a shift in settlement patterns, specifically, that the Nahal Grar region was occupied prior to the copper boom at villages to the south.

Neve Ur

While sites such as Tel Tsaf were abandoned, occupation continued elsewhere in the middle Jordan Valley into the early to mid-Chalcolithic. One example is the site of Neve Ur, located on the west bank of the Jordan River, roughly 15 km south of the Sea of Galilee (Perrot, Zori, and Reich 1967). The small farming village of roughly 2-3 ha appears to have been occupied for but a short time. The ceramic assemblage from Neve Ur includes ‘V-shaped’ bowls and churns, along with features such as pierced handles, finger-impressed bands on rim, and painted wares. The lithic assemblage included axes and adzes as well as fan-shaped scrapers, indicating a mixed economy based on agriculture and pastoral goods production. There are several examples of perforated flint discs, at least one of which is similar in form to the copper disc-shaped maceheads of the later Chalcolithic that have also been discovered at the site (see Perrot et al. 1967, Fig. 9:1). High-footed vessels (aka fenestrated incense burners) made of basalt also appear at Neve Ur, along with basalt bowls.



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Teleilat Ghassul

One of the most interesting and most extensively researched Chalcolithic sites is Teleilat Ghassul, located just north of the Dead Sea in modern day Jordan. The main settlement covers some 20+ ha, and there are several outlying structures that may also belong to the site. The earliest excavations at Ghassul were conducted by the French Mission under the direction of Mallon, Koeppel, and Neuville (see Mallon et al. 1934), who initiated the use of the term Ghassulian to refer more broadly to the late prehistoric culture they discovered at the site. In 1959–60, one season of excavation was conducted by North (1961, 1982), and the material from these investigations has been restudied and published by Blackham (1999). The next round of research at Ghassul was led by Hennessy (1969, 1989; McNicoll et al. 1982), who carried out deep soundings (Area A) in an effort to sort out the stratigraphy of the site. Most recently (1994–95), there have been renewed excavations at the site led by Bourke (1997a, 1997b, 2002a, 2002b; Bourke et al. 1995, 2000). Ghassul was one of, if not the largest town in the southern Levant with as many as 4000-5000 inhabitants (Mallon et al. 1934; Stager 1992). Most of the houses at Ghassul were free-standing long room units, but houses with multiple cells also appeared throughout the occupation of the site (Bourke 1997a:254). At least some of the houses may have been entered from the roof, and some appear to have had a second story or loft (Blackham 1999). Examining evidence from Abu Hamid, another Jordanian site, Dollfus and Kafafi (1988, 1993) have proposed a developmental sequence whereby simpler homes were ultimately replaced by more complex housing units; it is unclear whether such as sequence occurred at Ghassul. Sequence of occupation. Understanding the history of human occupation at Ghassul has not proven easy. The original excavators of Ghassul recognized four distinct occupation levels at the site, though only the most recent occupation (Level IV) was explored in depth (Mallon et al. 1934). Hennessy (1969) described a nine-stage sequence (A-I) for the site. During the most recent exploration of Ghassul research has again focused on clarifying the stratigraphic and ceramic sequences in Areas A and E. Confusion regarding some of the earliest radiocarbon dates from Ghassul—these dates appeared to push the site’s founding well back into the sixth millennium— did not help this situation (Bourke 1997b; Blackham 2002). But more recent AMS dates suggest a later beginning for occupation of Ghassul (Bourke et al. 2004b). The earliest levels at the site date to the Neolithic with a direct line of cultural progression to the Chalcolithic and no break in occupation (Bourke 1997b); settlement during this phase though seems somewhat ephemeral. The ceramics from the earliest levels at Ghassul (Hennessy’s phases H and I), characterized by shell-tempered and chaffe-tempered wares, belong to the late Neolithic. Typical forms include simple holemouths, basins, and jars with loop handles, and a ‘deep, slightly curved to straight sided bowl, often in a buff fabric with greenish tinges’ (Lovell 2001:49). According to Bourke, the Ghassul pottery assemblage may represent what was a ‘tightly localized PNA-associated variant’ (1997:412). It is possible that the earliest levels at Ghassul fall somewhere around the time of the Pottery Neolithic (PN) A-B transition at Jericho (Lovell 2001). This phase is also characterized by the early use of rectilinear architecture. It is important to note, however, that significant occupation at Ghassul postdates the Neolithic (Bourke et al. 2004a). The following phases (F and E) represent the early Chalcolithic. The use of red-slip with burnish is reminiscent of the Wadi Rabah horizon, as are some of the incised decorations. It is quite possible that this phase was contemporary with the ‘Wadi Rabah’ sites, yet lay outside the sphere of immediate ‘Rabah’ influence. The size of the settlement seems to have increased rather markedly during the middle phases, reaching over 10 ha by the end of the period (Bourke 1997b). These middle phases are characterized by a ‘non-Ghassulian’ Chalcolithic assemblage, perhaps more like those to Tell esh-Shuna (N) and Ghrubba.

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dawn of the metal age

The latest levels at Ghassul (Hennessy’s Levels A-D, Mallon, Koeppel and Neuville’s Ghassul IV) are characterized by the appearance of pottery with painted decoration similar in many ways to examples from sites further north and elsewhere in the Jordan Valley, such as Bezek Channel and Sde Eliyahu (Sadeh and Gophna 1991). Most of these ceramics (80%) were made from wellfired iron-rich clay, and roughly half were decorated with the so-called reserved or scraped-slip design. In some cases, chevron and lattice painted designs were used, displaying strong affinities with the early Chalcolithic assemblage at Tel Tsaf, thus we may identify this phase at Ghassul, which extends from the middle into the late phases, as post-Neolithic (Lovell 2001). These most recent phases of occupation at Ghassul saw the settlement reach its maximum size of 18-25 ha. These levels, which generally correspond with Mallon et al.’s (1934) Levels IVa and b, may be contemporary with the occupation of the Beer Sheva area sites. There are, however, some important differences in their respective assemblages and it will be argued here that while the final occupation of Ghassul may well have been contemporary with the beginning of the Beer Sheva culture, the occupation of Beer Sheva outlasts that of Ghassul. It was previously reported that Ghassul was inhabited well into the fourth millennium bc (Bourke 1997a), though subsequent radiocarbon evidence seemed to indicate that significant occupation had ceased prior to ca. 4000 bc (Bourke et al. 2001, Fig. 2, 1221; Burton and Levy 2001; see also Bourke 1997; Weinstein 1984). Still more recent radiocarbon data (Bourke et al. 2004a), specifically some twelve new AMS dates from the site’s latest level, suggest that the site was not abandoned before 3900/3800 cal bc (5110±90 bp (GrN-15196) (3982–3793 Cal bc 1-sigma). Of course, it must always be kept in mind that all radiocarbon data represent possible ranges and not fixed points. What is most important for the present discussion about cultural development (yet still unclear) is whether the assertion by Bourke et al. (2004a) that ‘significant occupation at Ghassul had ended by the floruit of the Beersheban Chalcolithic’ still stands. It is unlikely that radiometric measures currently available will ever permit such tight control over the data so as to determine with certainty the specific chronological relation between Ghassul and the Beersheban sites; this is precisely why radiocarbon dates must always be considered in conjunction with material culture. Subsistence and economy at Ghassul. Clarification of the sequence of occupation at Ghassul has also allowed for a better understanding of changes in subsistence patterns practiced by the site’s inhabitants. Cattle and pig, two animals that require greater amounts of water than do the ovicaprines, increased in the faunal assemblage at Ghassul from the Neolithic (cattle = 7%, pig = 4%) to the Early Chalcolithic (cattle = 13%, pig = 10%). By the later phases, however, both animals decreased to only 6% of the assemblage. As for gazelle, there was a steady drop in their number from the Neolithic (10%) to the Early Chalcolithic (3%), a pattern that extends the trend from the beginning of the Neolithic when hunting began to decrease in importance. By the time of the latest occupation, though, the trend had reversed as people relied even more heavily on the hunting of gazelle (19%) (Bourke 1997a). As for agriculture, paleobotanical evidence from Ghassul indicates that barley, of the sixrowed and two-rowed hulled variety (Hordeum vulgare, H. distichon), was at first the primary staple, while wheat, primarily einkorn and emmer (Triticum monococcum, T. turgidum), grew in importance over time. People also began cultivating a variety of pulses and producing animal fodder crops (Meadows 1998). Legumes such as chickpeas (Cicer arietinum), lentils (Lens esculenta) and peas (Pisum sativum) were cultivated as well. During the early phases of occupation at Ghassul horticulture gradually grew in importance, with nuts and fruits becoming part of the regular diet by the middle phases (Early Chalcolithic). People also engaged in the intensive production of specialized goods such as olive oil. Evidence for olives was found in the earliest levels at Ghassul and increased steadily throughout its occupation, accompanied by evidence for oil production



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and perhaps storage; see below for a discussion as to whether these early olives were actually cultivated (i.e. domesticated) or collected (i.e. wild). Another product that was probably part of a separate industry was flax, which was also grown by the middle phases. These agricultural and horticultural activities at Ghassul appear to have been well organized. Wheat, olive and flax were probably grown with the aid of irrigation systems, and much of the food processing tasks took place off-site. There is also evidence for specialized storage facilities used for dry goods located within large multi-room courtyard complexes (Blackham 1999; Bourke 2001), which suggests coordination not only of production but of distribution as well. The lithic assemblage from Ghassul is predominated by flake tools, while bifacial axes and adzes also appear. Much of this tool kit reflects the use of farming implements, but the discovery of numerous ‘tabular fan-shaped’ scrapers, stone tools used as animal shears, indicates that the production of pastoral goods was also important. By the end of the site’s occupation, the people of Ghassul seem to have hit hard times, owing in large part to a shift in climate. They began to grow a great variety of legumes (e.g. vetches) that most likely represent fodder crop, or what Bourke suggests might even be ‘famine food’ (1997a:253). Thus, the broad trends, namely, the cultivation of less desirable crops and the resurgence in hunting, reflect climatic deterioration. Had the environmental conditions remained stable, a greater reliance on husbandry over hunting would be expected to continue. And the animals that were herded reflect a shift away species with greater water requirements, as cattle and pigs both began to decline (Bourke 1997b, 2001). Examining this overall pattern, Bourke has characterized subsistence during the latest Chalcolithic phase at Ghassul as having a ‘scarce and scrappy nature’ (2001:252). It is also interesting to note that as people shifted away from pig and cattle herding and toward hunting, the dependence on ovicaprines remained relatively constant through the Chalcolithic at Ghassul (72% of the faunal assemblage in the Early Chalcolithic, 68% in the ‘Terminal’ Chalcolithic). Sheep and goat are the more resilient species and would be a reliable source of food even in times of drought. While inter-regional contact was minimal during the earliest phases at Ghassul, trade activity increased during the middle phase and peaked in the final phase (Bourke 1997b, 2002b). A range of goods made outside the immediate vicinity of the site, including ‘Cream Ware’ churns, fine basalt vessels, faience beads, alabaster maceheads, and several copper ‘tools’, first appeared in significant numbers during the final phase (Blackham 1999; Bourke 1997a). Fragments of anthropomorphic vessels have been found at Ghassul, but the general impression is that they originate elsewhere; perhaps the Judean hills (Lovell 2001). Equids, or donkeys, which could have been used as pack animals in overland trade, became ‘an infrequent but consistent part of the animal assemblage’ by the middle phases (Bourke 1997b, 2002b). It appears that the inhabitants of Ghassul were in fairly regular contact with Egyptians as well as peoples to the north and east by the final phases of occupation. It has been pointed out that the demise of Ghassul followed not long after its first contact with the emerging ‘proto-states’ in Egypt and Mesopotamia (Bourke 1997b, 2001). Though rare, there is some evidence that stamps and various other forms of marking were used, perhaps in order to track commercial transactions. Pot marks appear frequently on the ceramics from the latest occupation at Ghassul (Lee 1973), as well as at a number of other sites (Helms 1987, 1991; Ibrahim 1987; Keel 1989) and a variety of markings were employed. Stone seals have also been found at Ghassul (Elliot 1978) including one finely carved seal from the more recent excavations (Bourke et al. 2000). An interesting pattern in the distribution of seals has been observed, whereby incised crosshatched patterns appear in the south Jordan Valley and highlands that border to the east, while round, spiral incised seals are more common in the Beer Sheva region and Levantine coast (Bourke 2002a). Several stone tokens that might also have been used for commercial purposes were found at Ghassul as well (Bourke et al. 2000).

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dawn of the metal age

The situation at Ghassul with regard to metal is rather interesting. Several ‘pure’ copper artifacts have been found at the site, all from the final phase (Level IV), including two axeheads found in surface structures, Maison 39 and Maison 20. The original excavators referred to some of these artifacts as tin bronze (Mallon et al. 1934),4 and although these artifacts have not been analyzed, it is more likely they are ‘pure’ copper based on similar artifacts. Until they are analyzed, the use of a copper-arsenic-antimony ‘alloy’ cannot be ruled out, but axes made of this material would be unique. A fishhook made of pure copper was also found at the site (Lee 1973:24). There is no evidence for complex metal castings or for copper production (save a few artifacts that are possibly, but by no means certainly, slag). It is possible, in fact, that the copper from Ghassul represents some of the earliest metal in the southern Levant, metal that was imported into the site already in the form of finished goods (see Part 2). Ritual practice at Ghassul. In the southern portion of the site, Hennessy’s (McNicoll et al. 1982) team discovered a complex of architectural features—two large buildings, the remains of a temenos wall, and a possible gate were exposed in Area E—which have been interpreted as a sanctuary precinct (Seaton 2000). According to Bourke (1997b), this temple precinct was a highlight of the settlement by the final phases of occupation at Ghassul. He also points out that this temple complex shares many common features with the sanctuary from En Gedi, with both having two broad-room sanctuary buildings, paved areas and an enclosure wall (Bourke 2002a; Ottoson 1980; Ussishkin 1980). The most recent excavations have revealed a paved area, semi-circular in shape, flanked by a semi-circular boundary wall with a raised stone altar in its center. According to Bourke (2002a) this feature’s position, in an open courtyard between two sanctuary buildings, also has parallels with the layout of the central well installation at En Gedi. It is noteworthy that the cultic buildings at Ghassul appear in association with the large storage complexes (Bourke 2001). Evidence for ritual activity at Ghassul, however, has been discovered throughout the site suggesting that religious activities were not restricted to the central area (Bourke 2002a). Several different genres of figural art have been observed at Ghassul, some of which may have been employed as ritual paraphernalia. ‘Violin-shaped’ figurines made from a variety of stones have been found at Ghassul, including miniature ‘violin-shaped’ pendants made of bone and ivory (Lee 1973; Bourke et al. 1999). A number of small ‘eye figurines’ which recall similar examples from northern (Syrian) sites such as Tel Brak and Tepe Gawra (Mellaart 1975; Mallowan 1947) have also been found at Ghassul. It is not clear if there is any direct connection between the Ghassulian and Syrian figurines, but similarities between some of the ceramic forms suggest that there was contact between people of these cultures, and these parallels provide support for the interpretation of them as having some religious function. Also represented at Ghassul were two varieties of basalt figurines: zoomorphic ‘figural vessels’ and anthropomorphic ‘pillar figures’ (Bourke 2001). The zoomorphic examples are usually representations of horned bovines or caprines incorporating a shallow bowl into the back (Ibrahim and Mittmann 1987). The anthropomorphic ‘pillar figures’ are typical of the northern, or Golan Chalcolithic (Epstein 1978; Ibrahim and Mittmann 1987). The style in which the faces are rendered also recalls the human representations on the ossuaries of Peqi’in (Gal, Smithline and Shalem 1997). In the Golan, the ‘pillared figures’ were found in what is thought to be a cultic context (Epstein 1978a) and one cylindrical vessel similar to these (though not figural) derives from the sanctuary complex at Ghassul (Bourke et al. 1999; Bourke 2001). Numerous stone and shell pendants have also been found at Ghassul, but it is unclear whether they had some ritual function or were simply decorative items. One of the most outstanding features at Ghassul is the group of ‘frescoes’ painted onto plastered walls. These polychrome paintings, which first appear during the early middle phases (Hennessy’s F/G), were made with mineral-based paints in blue, black, green, yellow, a range of browns, and deep scarlet (Cameron 1981; Bourke 2001). One mural depicts what is referred to



Leaving the Neolithic

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Figure 2.4 Anthropomorphic figure with exaggerated eyes from portion of a painted wall ‘fresco’ found at Ghassul (J.Golden, adapted from Cameron 1981).

as the ‘Processional Frieze’, where several individuals (mostly incomplete in their current state) are shown approaching a walled complex. They are dressed in fancy robes, the lead figure holding what is probably a sickle above his shoulder (Hennessy 1989; Cameron 1981; Stager 1992:28). Other motifs that appear in the murals include a schematized eight-pointed star that appears in Building 10, as well as in the so-called ‘Notables Frieze’ in Building 78, where several large seated figures face a smaller figure that stands in front of the star symbol. Horned animals and humanlike figures with exaggerated eyes also appear (see Fig. 2.4; Bourke 2002a; Stager 1992;). It is impossible to know precisely what meaning lay behind these symbols, but they may represent religious icons. Many fragments have indeed been found in the sanctuary buildings (Cameron 1981), but Bourke (2001) points out that they are not entirely exclusive to religious contexts, and that any interpretation is especially difficult because of the multiple overlying paintings. Unfortunately, there is little opportunity for studying religious practice at Ghassul through mortuary archaeology, as only infant burials have been found. The place where adults were buried has not yet been discovered, though it is possible that some burials from the nearby Adeimeh cemetery, a cist cemetery used by mobile peoples, date to the Chalcolithic (Prag 1995); the evidence from Adaimeh and Bab edh-Dhra, another cemetery, are discussed at length in Chapter 4.

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Ein Gedi

A third Chalcolithic sanctuary was located at Ein Gedi, built on a prominent rock adjacent to the Ein Gedi spring, which feeds this lush oasis in the Judean Desert. The shrine consists of several structures including a main gatehouse, a secondary or postern gate, a lateral chamber, and the sanctuary. Each of these structures was built with carefully laid stones. Inside both the gatehouse and sanctuary the walls were lined with benches that may have been used to accommodate worshippers or as platforms for various cult items (e.g. statues). In some cases, plaster was used to coat the walls, and one small fragment with traces of pink and dark blue paint raises the possibility that murals like those of Ghassul once adorned the walls of the Ein Gedi shrine as well (Ussishkin 1980: fig. 6). The entire area is delineated by a stone enclosure wall, creating a large (ca. 250 sq m) courtyard at the center of which was a circular installation. Cornets were the most common form of pottery, as at least 195 examples can be inferred from the bases. There was also a relatively large number (at least nine) of fenestrated incense stands, and both the cornets and stands may have been used in various rituals. One remarkable discovery is a ceramic figure of a bull with two vessels, now broken but presumably churns, stemming from the animal’s back (Ussishkin 1980: fig. 11; Pl. 14-15). This example is reminiscent of both the ‘Ram with Cornets’ and ‘Woman with Churn’ statues from Gilat, both of which depict an animal or human figure incorporating either a churn or cornet. The cultic function of this piece can be inferred from the context of its discovery, in the ashes of the altar. Another interesting figurine is the ‘spotted snake’, which has a parallel from Shiqmim (Levy et al. in prep.). An alabaster5 vessel and alabaster maceheads are other noteworthy finds. Based on the nature of the Ein Gedi buildings, its dramatic location overlooking the Dead Sea, and the aforementioned artifacts, Ussishkin (1980) has argued that Ein Gedi served as a regional cult center. The sanctuary at Ein Gedi is not immediately associated with any settlement and may have been used only sporadically, perhaps as a central place of congregation or pilgrimage for sparse sedentary communities and/or pastoral groups that roamed the region (Elliot 1977, 1978). The shrine’s location in relation to two springs suggests that it may have had some ritual association with water. It has also been argued that the items found in the nearby ‘Cave of the Treasure’ (i.e. the Nahal Mishmar Hoard) were initially the property of the shrine, but were stashed in the cave upon abandonment of Ein Gedi. The contemporaneity of the shrine and the hoard, however, is still in question, for the reed mat in which the hoard was wrapped could date to several centuries after the shrine was abandoned. Outside of the Jordan Valley, numerous sites have been documented via survey, though only a few have been excavated. A few larger sites have been identified, though many are quite small in comparison to the larger sites of the Jordan Valley and Negev. At the larger sites such as Sahab near Amman, architectural patterns similar to Chalcolithic sites such as Ghassul (Ibrahim 1987:75) have been observed. This includes building plans and construction techniques using field stone foundations with mudbrick superstructures. A series of pits at Sahab discovered in association with the broadroom structures may indicate some element of centralized control over an agricultural surplus (Ibrahim 1984; Bourke 2001). Similar rectilinear broadrooms, courtyards and possible storage facilities have also been observed at Abu Snesleh (Lehmann et al. 1991; Kerner 1997). To the north several clusters of sites are known: one near the large site of Sal, and another further to the west in the Harra (Betts 1992). Artifacts retrieved during survey work at Sal included a variety of material familiar to Chalcolithic sites in the Jordan Valley and further east; the basalt vessel fragments (Kamlah 2000: fig. 67.2) closely resemble examples from Gilat and Zeita (see Rowan et al. 2006, fig. 32E, fig. 31A, respectively). To the south, small sites have been identified in the Madaba Plains region, the Karak Plateau (MacDonald 1988, 1992) and the Wadi Faynan region (Barker et al. 1997, 1998).



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Mezer

Another Chalcolithic site that has bearing on the story of copper’s evolution is the site of Mezer, excavated by Dothan (1959a) on behalf of the Israel Department of Antiquities during two seasons in 1956–57. The settlement, situated on top of a rocky hill, covers an area of roughly 1.25 acres. Most of the architectural remains, including a tumulus and several buildings, come from operations in Area B, with limited architecture found in Area A. In areas B, C and D, three layers were uncovered. The earliest level (Str. III) appears to have a ‘middle’ Chalcolithic assemblage. In the next phase (Str. II) new forms such as Cream Ware began to appear. By the time of Stratum I, new forms arrive yet again, for example, a jug with a high loop handle. In the earliest level (Str. III) of Area B, a broadroom house was discovered, and excavations in Stratum II revealed broadroom houses with one apsidal wall. The so-called broadroom house is a rectilinear structure typically having an entrance on one of the long walls. The entrance is often discernable by its worn door socket. Sometimes the building includes a low stone or mudbrick bench along the inside of the wall. The people of Mezer used pits, cupmarks, and channels hewn into the natural rock, perhaps part of a water catchment system (Dothan 1959a:220). The ceramic assemblage from Mezer appears to have elements from several different traditions, but it is possible that distinct periods are mixed. The ‘Ghassulian’ pottery from the site includes forms such as deep bowls with lug handles and pithoi with red slip. The slip-band, similar to the scraped slip, also occurs, as does an early form of ‘line group painted ware’. Gray burnished or ‘Esdraelon’ ware is also present, representing the northern influence, although the chronological position of this pottery is not certain.6 Dothan’s (1957, 1959b) purported discovery of ‘Ghassulian’ material in conjunction with EBA material seemed at first to confirm the idea that Ghassul was actually at the very end of the Chalcolithic sequence (Bourke 1997a), but this has now been seriously questioned. Cornets have also been discovered at Mezer, mainly in Stratum II. Dothan (1959:225) has argued that the cornet originates during what he calls ‘the Ghassulian phase’, continuing with slight modifications up until the Late Chalcolithic. It now appears that cornets were actually quite rare during the latest phase (Commenge, personal communication, see also Part 2). Several stone adzes have been found, as were ‘Canaanean’ blades, trapezoidal and/or triangular in section, which again may point to some mixing of earlier and later material at Mezer. The groundstone finds include rectangular ‘cosmetic’ palettes and a basalt incense burner. Metal has also been found at Mezer. Beneath an apsidal wall located in Area C, there was a small cache of five copper adzes. The adzes, which were most likely cast,7 have straight almost parallel sides, which Dothan has compared to those of Ghassul (1959a:226). These are the only copper artifacts from the site and there was no evidence for complex metals or metal production. Thus, like Ghassul, there is limited evidence for copper tools, with no evidence for complex metal castings or metal production; cornets are present, but rare.

Ecology and ‘Specialized’ Subsistence in the Southern Levant Specialized Pastoralism

The settled peoples of these Chalcolithic villages, however, may tell only part of the story, for it is possible that a sizable transhumant population, i.e. semi-nomadic pastoralists, also inhabited the region (Gilead 1986; Levy 1992b). The appearance of certain artifacts such as churns reflects innovation in the production of secondary products, a development that allowed for a significant expansion in the pastoral goods industry. And while this may have encouraged specialization in the production of pastoral goods, other factors may have virtually required it. According to Lees and Bates (1974:192), ‘selection for specialized nomadic pastoralism began

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in association with increased labor requirements for irrigated agriculture and the consequence was conflict of interests related to land and labor use in alluvial zones’. They also explain that in arid areas where there is a high risk of drought, people engage not only in mixed crop agriculture, but in the herding of mixed animals as well; i.e. diversification as a hedge against ecological challenges. The impact of these changes on economic, social and political organization was considerable (Grigson 1995; Tchernov and Horowitz 1990; Levy 1983; Sherratt 1981), and will be discussed at length in later chapters. For now, we will focus on the evidence for the presence of mobile peoples in the semi-arid zones as a population, itself a challenging task when dealing only with archaeological remains (Cribb 1991). As noted already, a good deal of archaeological research involves regional survey projects, and in some cases archaeologists have been able to discern the remains of semi-permanent encampments and clusters of small campsites, even if used but briefly by ancient herders.

Nahal Sekher

In the Nahal Sekher area, south of Ramat Hovav, archaeologists have identified ten small ephemeral sites, or stations in an area of roughly 1500 sq m (Gilead and Goren 1986). It appears that the Chalcolithic herders who sought respite at these camps chose a small niche, or microenvironment, that was somewhat greener and more humid than the immediate surroundings. In most cases such sites have been identified by the large hearths—roughly 50-100 cm in diameter and 15-30 cm deep—found at each of the stations, and the scatters of artifacts in their immediate vicinity. The lithic assemblage reflects the fact that these were not farmers, as typical tools of the agriculturalists such as adzes, axes and sickle blades were not found. Fan-scrapers known from the villages were also notably absent, which is not surprising since shepherds would not do the shearing, at least not out in the pastures. The pottery forms found at these sites are limited in range, generally restricted to ‘V-shape’ bowls, large bowls, necked jars, holemouth jars, and cornets, reflecting activities such as cooking, serving, and small-scale storage. According to the excavators (Gilead and Goren 1986), the ceramic assemblages from the Nahal Sekher sites belong to the Beer Sheva and Besor assemblages, though the presence of cornets, which were extremely rare in the Beer Sheva assemblages, does not support this conclusion (Perrot 1955, 1984; Commenge-Pellerin 1987, 1990; Lovell 2001). We must also note that exotic raw materials or evidence for ‘professional craftsmanship’, presumably copper, did not appear at any of these sites. Of course, we must consider whether such finds should be expected at a herder site. Rosen’s (1993) research on herder sites of the EBA indicates that pastoralists did engage in small-scale craft production, for instance bead manufacture, on the side. According to Gilead and Goren (1986), the herders of Nahal Sekher were affiliated with people of the nearby villages. Taking their animals out to graze, they were attracted to the greener pastures of the area, but may have returned to the village with some frequency.

Shefayim

The Sharon Plain was barely settled during the Chalcolithic, but mobile groups appear to have exploited this area, as indicated by a small encampment located near Kibbutz Shefayim, just 400 m east of the present-day coast. The Shefayim site, which covers an area of less than one acre, was first identified by Tsuk in 1981, and later excavated under the direction of Gophna (1992a). Cultural material occurs in small concentrated scatters within the site’s parameters. The ceramics have been described as ‘typical Ghassulian Chalcolithic’ (Gophna 1992a:195), and include ‘V-shaped’ bowls, cornets, jars with lug handles, holemouth jars, pithoi with loop handles and applied rope-like decoration, and churns. Based on petrographic analysis, the Shefayim pottery matches that from nearby Tel Aviv area sites such as Jabotinsky Street.8 Fragments of basalt vessels found at the site



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also resemble examples from the Ghassulian assemblage; for example, a band of incised hatched triangles on the sharp inner rim appears on vessels from both Shefayim and Ghassul. Again, if indeed these ephemeral sites served as encampments for transhumant people as opposed to fully sedentary communities, differences in the assemblages from these sites should be expected. It is noteworthy that cornets were present at the site, while no copper has been reported. The small encampment at Shefayim may have been a satellite site associated with a larger nearby settlement. Permanent villages dating to the Chalcolithic did exist in the area of the lower Yarkon River, but these have not been adequately documented to date. It is possible that Shefayim was used as a base camp by transhumant groups who came through the coastal region on a seasonal basis in order to exploit the area for grazing, hunting, and fishing. The presence of sickle blades and an axe suggests some limited farming may have been carried out (Gophna 1992). Shefayim was probably one of many small encampments used by transhumant people in order to exploit specific ecological niches, and is indicative of the symbiotic relationship that often exists between mobile herders and the people of the settled villages they surround. Seasonal pastoral encampments have also been identified in the Hisma Basin of Jordan (Henry 1995), the Faynan/Fidan region (Barker et al. 1998; Levy et al. 2001) and elsewhere in Jordan. The role of pastoralism in Chalcolithic societies will be addressed at length in Chapter 10.

The Olive Oil Trade

The archaeological evidence from Chalcolithic sites throughout the southern Levant demonstrates that the production and exchange of olive oil became increasingly important during this period. Recent discussion has centered on whether olives were actually domesticated by the time of the Chalcolithic or whether people still relied on the collection of wild sources. Defining the original natural habitat of this species within the southern Levant has proven difficult. The olive tree (Olea Europaea) is believed to have grown wild in highland areas such as the Golan, Galilee, Carmel and the southern Judean mountains and Samaria (Zohary and Hopf 1993; Kislev 1994–95, 1996; Liphschitz 1996). According to Finkelstein and Gophna (1993), the spread of the Chalcolithic population into the uplands was probably related to olive cultivation, and a similar trend may have occurred in Jordanian uplands during this period (Kamleh 1998). Based on the appearance of early olive wood and stones at Ghasssul, outside this assumed natural habitat (Neef 1990), it was suggested that this was one of the earliest sites of olive domestication (Zohary and SpiegelRoy 1975). It now appears that indeed while no Israeli Neolithic or Chalcolithic olives are domestic, the Jordanian site of Ghassul may provide evidence for the earliest domesticated olives (Meadows, in Bourke et al. 2000:79-84; Bourke 2001). Recent radiometric data from other Chalcolithic sites in the Jordan Valley, namely Abu Hamid, Pella and Tell Shuna North, suggest domestic olives were present only at the very end of the Chalcolithic period (ca. 4000–3800 bc), and Liphschitz and Bonani (2000) have argued that the olives from Ghassul were later material contaminating earlier deposits. Five new radiocarbon dates from Ghassul olive samples, however, seem to confirm that olive domestication had begun at Teleilat Ghassul by the middle of the fifth millennium (Bourke et al. 2003). Irrespective of whether the Chalcolithic peoples relied on wild or domesticated trees, several different lines of evidence indicated that olive trees were exploited for the production of oil. It was not until Hellenistic or Roman times, in fact, that olives were cured, thus we know that during the Chalcolithic the fruit itself was not eaten, but rather pressed for its oil. Areas where the olive could thrive, such as the Golan, became centers for the production of olive oil (Epstein 1978, 1993). Both olive wood and stones have been found at several Chalcolithic sites in the Golan, as well as spouted vats used for separating oil (Epstein 1993). Evidence for olive production has also been discovered at the submerged site of Kfar Samir, located on the coast near Haifa and the Carmel mountains (Galili and Shavrit 1994–95; Kislev 1994–95). Here, archaeologists uncovered

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a round pit lined with limestone, containing a large number of olive stones and pulp identified as that of the olive (‘jift’). Most of the stones were crushed, and were found in association with stone chopping and crushing tools, a woven basket, perhaps used to transport the fruit to the processing station, and straw and wood branches that may have been used as a strainer. According to Kislev (1994–95), the inhabitants of Kfar Samir probably used a method called ‘shemen rahutz’ (washed oil), where the olives are crushed and then covered with water and agitated, until the oil floating to the top could be skimmed off. Three samples of olive stones have yielded dates ranging from ca. 4800–4400 bc (Carmi and Segal 1994). Olive stones have also been discovered at Shoham (Liphshitz et al. 1996), Nahal Zehora (Liphschitz and Bonani 2000), and Nevallat (van den Brink et al. 2001). In the lower hill country, archaeologists have found measurements of olive pits (Neef 1990:300) and bedrock grinding features possibly related to oil extraction (van den Brink et al. 2001). Evidence for olive harvesting is attested in the eastern hill regions as well, where stones were found at Pella and wood was found at Tel Tsaf, Tell Abu Hamid and Tell esh-Shunah (Bourke et al. 1999; Neef 1990; Wilcox 1992). Olive stones have also been found in places where the olive does not grow wild suggesting that perhaps they were domesticated by midway through the Chalcolithic. For instance, crushed olive stones have been discovered at sites in Jordan such as Abu Hamid, Tel esh-Shuna and Ghassul (Neef 1990), where they became increasingly common over time (Bourke 2001). Olive stones found at Teleilat Ghassul in the Jordan Valley indicate they were intentionally cultivated because the trees would not have grown in that area (Neef 1990). The same is true of the Negev, where olive stones have been recovered at Gilat. As noted already, Gilat was on the receiving end of the olive trade, which tells us something about the dynamics of that trade. Organic residue analyses of ‘torpedo’ jar fragments have confirmed that these jars once contained olive oil (Burton and Levy 2001, 2006), while petrographic analyses of the same vessels indicate that they originate from the Judean mountains (Goren, forthcoming), where olives probably thrived at the time as they do to this day. In addition to demonstrating that at least some oil was brought into the site as a finished product, the evidence also indicates that the olive oil trade served to connect peoples from different regions via a network of exchange. Considering the distance traveled in some instances from source to end user, along with the eccentric nature of the vessels in which the goods were transported (e.g. ‘torpedo vessels’), it is likely that oil was treated as a valuable luxury item. Food offerings have often played a vital role in the emergence of complex societies, such as the chiefdoms of Polynesia (Claessen 2000) and Cahokia (Milner 1998). We must also keep in mind that olive oil production in the first place involves a considerable effort in that propagation and intentional breeding (e.g. selecting for larger fruit with more oil) is not simple and trees take at least 5-7 years to yield fruit (Kislev 1996), which limited the number of producers, while enhancing the status of this commodity.

Summary During the late sixth-early fifth millennium bc there was a Late Neolithic/Wadi Rabah horizon in the southern Levant that may represent something of a transition to the Chalcolithic. Ghassul, which would become a great regional center by the Early-Mid-Chalcolithic, was probably a small hamlet at the time. Sites of similar size with material assemblages displaying stylistic similarities appeared throughout the southern Levant. Differences, however, can be noted in sub-regional assemblages. For instance, ceramics that appear to represent local variations on the Rabah tradition have been observed at several sites including Ghassul and Gilat, and the ‘Qatifian’ sites may also represent another localized version of this tradition (Gophna and Sadeh 1989). Most important about the discovery of ‘Wadi Rabah’ elements at sites such as Ghassul and Gilat is



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that it demonstrates the local roots of the Chalcolithic culture, though it does not deny outside influence. A contemporary, or perhaps slightly later ceramic tradition typified by the painted wares of Tel Tsaf has been identified, primarily in the Middle Jordan Valley. There seems to be an earlier phase of this Tel Tsaf tradition, which may be contemporary with or slightly later than the late PNA levels at Jericho, and a later phase represented by pottery with more careful execution of design, which appears in conjunction with Wadi Rabah material at Ghassul (Lovell 2001) and Kataret es-Samra (Leonard 1983). The next phase represents the earliest part of the Chalcolithic. Indeed, based on the first appearance of new ‘classic’ Chalcolithic artifacts—cornets and fenestrated stands—Lovell (2001) has designated Levels G and GH at Ghassul as the ‘Early Chalcolithic’. Included in this group are Gilat, Grar, Teleilat Ghassul, along with several herder sites. Some elements of the Wadi Rabah can still be observed, while early diagnostic features of the Chalcolithic, such as the distinctive iconography and the proliferation of pottery types, can be clearly observed. This was followed by a later phase where there was a significant increase in the frequency of painted and incised decoration. At Ghassul (Levels F, D, and E) cornets became more common and the churn made its first appearance at the site. The most recent levels at Ghassul (C, B, A, and A+) have been assigned to the Late Chalcolithic (Lovell 2001; Bourke 2002a). There appear in these levels new forms of decoration such as red painted decoration on white slip, and at some sites (Ghassul and the Beer Sheva sites) a ‘streaky washed’ decoration. Reviewing the evidence from North’s (1961) excavations, Blackham (1999) refers to some ten fragments of Cream Ware from Ghassul that were restricted to the final phase of occupation and Lovell’s (2001) findings confirm that this pottery group was represented at the site, but it is not clear how common it was. Including cornets in this group, Cream Ware is by no means rare at Ghassul, but it does appear that there are some later forms of this ceramic type found at the Beer Sheva sites and the cave tombs that are not well represented at Ghassul. It appears that the collapse of society at Ghassul may have been tied in with an inability to adapt to environmental change. Bourke (1997b:413), however, has warned that the evidence for climatic change is not entirely clear as yet. It is also important to recognize that certain ceramic forms may represent varied behaviors and practices and are not always accurate chronological indicators. For instance, notably absent from Ghassul were the large ceramics churns, which were found at Gilat, as well as the Beer Sheva sites. This could reflect a number of things such as different production methods for pastoral goods, if, for instance, at Ghassul the processing of dairy goods was carried out offsite and/or by mobile pastoralists using churns made of hide. It is also possible that the ceramic churns, especially the miniature examples, played a role in some ritual practice. One of the most interesting discoveries at Ghassul is what appears to be one of the earliest occurrences of metal in the southern Levant, where a limited number of copper tool-shaped items are found in the latest levels. It is critical to note, however, that neither complex metal castings nor convincing evidence for production has been found at Ghassul, and no other sites from this phase have evidence for copper. It will, in fact, be argued in the following chapters that while the most recent levels at Ghassul may represent a late Chalcolithic phase, and there was certainly considerable overlap with the occupation of the Beer Sheva sites, there was a final florescence of the Chalcolithic culture manifest in the latest levels of the latter sites that postdates the demise of Ghassul. Beyond chronological issues, the archaeological evidence from these Early-Mid Chalcolithic sites reflects a number of critical economic and social developments. For one, significant shifts in the means and modes of pottery production, which began during the Rabah phase, give some indication of socioeconomic change. For example, molded bases on certain pots suggest that the tournette was used, providing early signs of standardized production (Commenge 2001; see also, Yannai 1997). The faunal assemblages from these sites as well as ceramic churns reflect an

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increase in dairy goods production, while fan-shaped flint (‘tabular’) scrapers may have been used for processing wool, both of which signify the emergence of secondary products production as an economic specialization. The burials at Adaimeh and Bab edh-Dhra, which appear to be related to the Ghassulian population and/or mobile peoples from the surrounding regions, give some indication that social ranking was on the rise. Signs of wealth and social status are also evident in the appearance of expensive prestige goods, while social and economic interaction can be inferred from the movement of various materials and finished goods throughout the region. One of the most important developments that took place during the Chalcolithic was the rise of regional cults. According to Levy (2006), these cults helped provide the bonds that tied dispersed settlements into a cultural network that provided solutions to perennial problems related to the management of agro-pastoral risk, warfare, control of technology, and trade. They argue, for instance, that Gilat may have lacked certain economic resources such as olives that were native to the Judean mountains, but was able to rival the more resource-rich areas because of its role as a cultic center (Levy 2006). Gilat may have also served as an arena for reciprocal exchange between various communities. Similarly, Bourke (1997a; 2002a) asserts that Ghassul rose to prominence in large part as a result of the sanctuary complex there. Both Ghassul and Gilat, along with Ein Gedi, featured cultic complexes with large buildings and open courtyards that were probably used for the performance of public rituals. These rituals no doubt involved the use of cultic paraphernalia such as the cornets that may have been used in drinking rituals and the few examples of ceramic statuary that betray a concern with fertility— both human and animal. Most of these cult objects were made from ceramic material, a variety of stones, in particular basalt, and on rare occasion, ivory. Soon though, a new medium—copper and copper-based metals—would appear in the region. This represents not only technological progress, craft specialization, and disparities in wealth and status, but many of the forms created and the context of their discovery—in caches, hoards, ‘foundation deposits’, and tombs—all suggest a ritual function as well. Certain motifs and elements of design carried over from the earlier media into the metals industry, but the virtual disappearance of cornets suggests that certain practices may have been abandoned around the same time that metal first began to appear. A number of issues concerning the coming of copper and the local inception of metallurgy will be examined in the following chapters.

Notes



1. Nizzanim Hv-8509 (Yeivin and Olami 1979). 2. Test excavations began in 1973 under the direction of Epstein (1984) followed by several seasons under the direction of Oren and Gilead from 1979–83. 3. Gilat C14 sample RT-860A has been dated to 5440 ± 180 bp (4688–3816 Cal bc 1-sigma) (Carmi and Segal 1992) and sample RT-2058 dates to 4530 ± 85 (3515–2921 Cal bc 1-sigma) (Burton and Levy 2001). 4. The axes were chemically analyzed at the École des Mines à Paris; results are said to be the same as those from analysis of metals from Umm Qatafa. 5. It is not always clear what is high quality gypsum or limestone, though the term alabaster is frequently used. 6. Archaeologists have had a difficult time separating artifacts from the Chalcolithic and EB strata, making the stratigraphy and classification of material culture from the site somewhat tentative. Hence, we may include Mezer in this discussion, but should use caution when considering the site’s chronological position. 7. The adzes were studied by W.Bodenheimer in Jerusalem. 8. Petrographic analysis has been conducted by Y. Goren.

3

The Northern Negev Copper Boom

Introduction During the latter half of the fifth millennium bc settlement began to expand southward, as people established new communities deeper into the northern Negev. Though it is difficult to isolate localized and short-term changes in the environment, most of the paleobotanical evidence points to a more humid climate in general at this time (Bar Matthews et al. 1998, 1999). With the additional rainfall the villagers of Beer Sheva, Shiqmim and other small sites could exploit the floodplain to grow a healthy crop of wheat and barley, while the margins of the arid zone were used for the herding of sheep and goats. Ultimately, new cultural practices would begin to appear as settlement in the northern Negev boomed. For one, there emerged a unique style of artistic expression, perhaps related to new sets of social conventions and ritual practices. There are also some indications that significant shifts in the structure of economics, wealth and political power occurred. One area in particular where many of these changes can be observed is in the metal industry—the Negev copper boom. In this chapter we will continue our survey of some of the key Chalcolithic sites, mostly settlements and a few tombs all of which may represent a somewhat later phase of the period. Our primary aim will be to understand how certain changes in material culture reflect the various socioeconomic developments occurring late in the 5th millennium bc, and, furthermore, to reconstruct the social environment in which these changes took place. As it is among the most salient signs of broader change and on several different levels, we will focus in particular on one of the most dramatic changes in the material culture of the Chalcolithic: the local inception of metallurgy.

The Beer Sheva sites The Nahal Beer Sheva in Israel’s northern Negev desert was home to a vibrant culture during the Chalcolithic. In the immediate vicinity of modern-day Beer Sheva there existed a group of Chalcolithic sites that were roughly contemporaneous with each other (Fig. 3.1). In fact, several of these sites, Abu Matar, Bir es-Safadi, and Neve Noy, may very well represent different parts of what was at one point one large village (Shugar 2001; as they have been reported as distinct sites, they will be treated as such here). The nearby sites of Horvat Beter and Bir Ibrahim may also be part of the Beer Sheva complex, though research at these sites is not as extensive (Perrot 1990). The regional distribution of sites along the ca. 60 km-long Nahal Beer Sheva drainage system indicates an integrated settlement pattern characterized by a hierarchy of large sites (over 9 ha in size) surrounded by smaller villages and hamlets during the late 5th-early 4th millennium (Levy and

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Alon 1987). Levy and Shalev (1989) have suggested that these sites were at least partly integrated through their control of a metallurgical ‘monopoly’ during the Chalcolithic period, and it will be argued here that this was the center of the late Chalcolithic copper boom. The Beer Sheva sites seem to constitute a regional sub-culture, as suggested by both geography and by certain facets of the Beer Sheva assemblages that vary from that of other areas (e.g. Ghassul and the Golan sites). For example, there is a distinctive tradition of figural art notable in a corpus of sophisticated ivory figurines from the Beer Sheva region (Amiran and Tadmor 1980; Perrot 1993), with similar faces depicted on stone and bone figurines from Shiqmim (Levy and Golden 1996). Another feature common to the Beer Sheva sites is the use of subterranean architecture (e.g. at Abu Matar, Bir es-Safadi and Shiqmim), where the ancient villagers dug into Pleistocene sediments to create extensive systems of chambers connected by tunnels. A certain level of uniformity can also be observed in the ceramic assemblages from northern Negev sites such as Abu Matar and Bir es-Safadi, as well as Wadi Zoumelli roughly 10 km upstream from Abu Matar (Commenge-Pellerin 1987, 1990). Focusing not only on the formal and decorative aspects of pottery, but on the methods of production as well, Commenge-Pellerin (1990:47) emphasizes the consistency of methods employed, describing the pottery from these sites as an ‘assemblage céramique homogène, remarquable par la sobrièté de ses formes at par l’ingéniosité des procédés techniques utilizes’. Current studies on the ceramic assemblages from Shiqmim demonstrates shared features with Beer Sheva, while displaying differences from other assemblages, for example, the general absence of cornets so typical of sites such as Grar, Gilat and Ghassul. One of the most interesting features of the northern Negev Chalcolithic, and of course, the primary focus of this discussion, is the evidence not only for finished copper but for copper production, which is quite rare in the region prior to this. Copper, while rare in the Ghassul region and absent from the Golan, is relatively widespread in the Beer Sheva region, where there is evidence for both production and use. It is critical to note that important discoveries made mainly during the 1990s have turned up finished copper goods well outside the northern Negev, in caches and in cave sites located throughout the southern Levant. In most cases, the cave sites were tombs (see Chapter 4) with the finished copper items included as grave goods. Thus, while metal production still seems to have been restricted to the northern Negev at the time, knowledge of metal and the use of finished goods were not. The diffusion of copper technology would no doubt have been influenced by dynamics related to geography and the physical environment. According to Bourke (2002a), trade routes from the Faynan mining district to the northern Negev may have circumvented Ghassul, cutting this important center out of the ‘copper loop’, a factor that may have ultimately contributed to the site’s decline. It is possible that people of the northern Negev had unique knowledge and privileged access to these ore sources, which also allowed them to heavily influence if not entirely control the distribution of copper. It is interesting to note that while production technology may have been restricted to this small portion of the northern Negev, within this area there was a certain level of technological know-how that was shared by multiple workshops (Perrot 1959, 1968, 1984; Amiran and Tadmor 1980).

Abu Matar Abu Matar is a small mound located in the Beer Sheva Valley, 1.5 km southeast of the Old City section of modern Beer Sheva. The site is situated on the loess and sandy loams of a 200 m stretch of undulating hills rising 12 m above the wadi floodplain. The site was first discovered by David Alon in 1952 when Chalcolithic material was found on the small tell and its immediate vicinity. Excavations at the site under the direction of Jean Perrot began that same year, with a second season between 1953–54, and a third in 1954. Perrot’s (1955) excavations comprise 52



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Figure 3.1 Map of Chalcolithic sites in the Beer Sheva area (courtesy of T.E. Levy, UCSD Levantine Archaeology Laboratory).

squares of 5 × 5 m, a trench 20 m long and 3 m wide down the east side of the tell, and soundings T and M (areas III and IV) with a total excavated area of over 1500 sq m. More recently, salvage operations have been carried out by the Israel Antiquities Authority under the direction of Gilead, Rosen and Fabian (Gilead et al. 1991). During two seasons (1990–91) three areas, A, B, and M were excavated (Gilead et al. 1991). Settlement at Abu Matar, as at Safadi and Shiqmim, was characterized by both surface occupation as well as a system of underground rooms connected by tunnels cut into the natural soil. The function of this architecture is not entirely clear. While Perrot (1984) has argued that these architectural complexes were used to find respite from the hot, arid environment of the northern Negev, Levy et al. (1991b) suggest that they may have been used for refuge in the event of hostile attacks. In some cases, human remains have been found within the subterranean systems, but it is doubtful that their primary purpose was for burials seeing that this was the exception and not the rule, in addition to the fact that most of the finds seem unrelated to a mortuary context. The presence of architectural remains both on and below the surface can in some cases complicate the interpretation of the site’s stratigraphy. In an attempt to simplify matters, Perrot (1955) focused on the detailed stratigraphy for one group of structures (Group I) at the site, and then applied this sequence to other parts of the village where both forms of architecture were observed. He identified nine principal layers (Layer 9 as the lowest and earliest) in subterranean dwelling room 127 (Fig. 3.2), and eight layers in room 135. Nineteen other structures are associated with Group I.

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Figure 3.2 Profile drawings of subterranean structure, Locus 127 at Abu Matar; the stratigraphic phasing for the entire portion of the site excavated by Perrot is based in part on the sequence from this feature (Commenge-Pellerin 1987).



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Group I comprises 21 localities, each with an internal sequence of layers that have been grouped into three main phases of occupation. They are described as follows: Level IA—This level represents the earliest occupation of the site, known as the pioneer settlement phase. This early village was characterized by the construction of a subterranean system with rooms such as Locus 127 (layer 9) and 108a (layer 8), and as series of tunnels cut into the natural loess. Level IB—Following this pioneer settlement was a brief period of abandonment. Level IIA—This phase was characterized by the reuse of several earlier structures, ranging from reoccupation of abandoned dwellings to the incidental deposition of cultural material. Several new structures were also built during this phase. Structures from Groups II and III have also been assigned to Level II of Group I. Level IIB—There appears to have been another abandonment of the Group I area at this point. The upper portions of the subterranean rooms collapsed due to neglect, abandonment or, perhaps, deliberate destruction. Level IIIA—The third phase of occupation is better represented in other parts of the site, which are then tied into the Group I sequence. Several of the earlier structures in Level IIIA (L.127, 106, and 156) that had originally been constructed as subterranean rooms, were incorporated into the newer architecture as semi-subterranean rooms and/or ‘sunken’ surface structures. Level IIIB—Again, there appears to have been a brief period of abandonment, indicated by a layer of rubble. Level IV—The final phase of Chalcolithic occupation is characterized by the foundations of rectangular houses on the surface of the site. To summarize, according to Perrot (1955) the occupation levels of Abu Matar can be grouped into three main phases. The first phase comprises levels I and II, with level Ib and IIb representing brief periods of abandonment. The second phase lasts only a short time, and is represented by ephemeral remains including a number of hearths and several stone circles connected with burials. The third phase of occupation is seen in level IV, which is characterized by the establishment of rectilinear architecture with stone foundations on the site surface. Perrot draws a chronological connection between this phase and both Horvat Beter and Bir es-Safadi (1955:184). Based on the more recent excavations at Abu Matar, Gilead et al. (1991) have challenged Perrot’s (1955, 1984) interpretation of the site’s stratigraphy. First, they point out that the exposure in Area M indicates that a semi-subterranean feature had been constructed only after a substantial period of surface occupation, and thus Perrot’s generalized architectural sequence whereby subterranean precedes surface occupation does not hold true for this portion of the site (Gilead et al. 1991:178). Moreover, the new excavations have also revealed more than one phase of above ground construction with no indication that they followed earlier subterranean features. Gilead et al. (1991) also argue that the patchy or non-contiguous occupation of the site makes it such that Perrot’s general stratigraphic sequence cannot necessarily be applied to the entire site. The ceramic assemblage from Abu Matar is dominated by bowls, including Cream Ware ‘V-shaped’ vessels, which often bear a red-painted band on the rim. There are also small carinated bowls, most of which were wheel-made. Jars both with flaring necks and holemouths are common, as are large vases that sometimes have a ‘pie-crust’ rim. Shallow bowls, basins, and platters also appear, as do churns and footed bowls. Wide, red painted bands frequently decorate jars and bowls, while pierced lug handles are by far the most common type of applied decoration observed in this assemblage (Commenge-Pellerin 1987). Though little can be said about the nature of ritual practices at the site, there is some evidence that seems to reflect symbolic behavior. Figurines of animals and humans, including two male

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ivory figures have been found at Abu Matar (Fig. 3.4), along with a number of ground stone vessels. One small cache contained a fenestrated incense burner made of basalt (Fig. 3.5), possibly representing the intentional burial of ritual paraphernalia. Small pendants, often with two perforations along one side and/or incised decoration, have also been found at the site. One fascinating discovery was a group of enigmatic painted pebbles, which appear to have been laid out as if to form a patio floor. It is intriguing that the painted stones were arranged in rows and columns in multiples of seven, yet the meaning of this motif is elusive. A similar painted pebble feature has also been discovered at Shiqmim (Levy et al. forthcoming). Of course, there is extensive evidence for copper production at Abu Matar, and in several different areas of the village. The assemblage of ores, slag, crucibles, furnace remains, and copper constitutes the largest group of archaeometallurgical material from any Chalcolithic site in the southern Levant. Finished copper goods, including an awl, eight tiny ringlets or beads, and a standard, have also been discovered at the site. This material will be discussed in greater detail in Chapter 7.

Figure 3.3 Beer Sheva Chalcolithic ceramics including bowls and jars; note the ‘V-shaped’ vessel (no. 1); (CommengePellerin 1987:140, Pl. IX).



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Bir es-Safadi (including Neve Noy) The site of Bir es-Safadi is situated on a terrace adjacent to the Wadi Beer Sheva, opposite from Abu Matar, just 700 m upstream. The site was first discovered in 1952 and archaeological research by the French Mission commenced under the direction of Jean Perrot in 1954, continuing intermittently until 1960. During six campaigns at the site some 8000 sq m were excavated. In the summer of 1983, Eldar and Baumgarten (1985a, 1985b) conducted salvage operations at Neve Noy, a site located just 150 m east of Bir es-Safadi and generally considered to be part of the same site. Eight units were excavated in an area of 300 × 100 m.

Figure 3.4 Examples of anthropomorphic figurines from the northern Negev; a) ivory female from Bir es-Safadi, drawing by J. Golden, adapted from Perrot (1968); b) ivory male from Bir es-Safadi (drawing by J. Golden, adapted from Perrot (1959); c) sandstone violin-shaped figurine from Gilat, drawing by J. Golden, adapted from Commenge et al. (2006); d) bone figurine from Shiqmim, drawing by J. Golden, adapted from Levy and Golden (1996); drawings not to scale.

The ceramic assemblage from Bir es-Safadi is virtually identical to that from Abu Matar. Jars with flaring necks and holemouth jars are common. Small jars or ‘piriform vases’ vary in form from low, squat examples to those with a high shoulder (Commenge-Pellerin 1990). Basins or large open bowls and platters are also present along with churns and several examples of ceramic fenestrated stands. Large bowls and ‘V-shaped’ vessels indicate that local potters used the slow-wheel. Painted decoration, particularly in the form of large red bands, is fairly common, while plastic and incised decorations occur less frequently. Pierced lug handles are also common, appearing on the squat and ‘piriform’ vases or jars. It is noteworthy that cornets are extremely rare, constituting less than 0.1% of the sherds from the site. Like Abu Matar, the village at Bir es-Safadi included extensive systems of underground chambers connected by tunnels, in some cases reaching as deep as 7 m below the surface. Like the progression from subterranean dwellings to rectilinear surface architecture at Abu Matar, Perrot (1968, 1987) has proposed a similar sequence for Bir es-Safadi, though recognizing that some surface and subterranean structures could be contemporary. During subsequent investigations at Neve Noy, the excavators identified three phases of underground and semi-subterranean architecture, although they maintain that these do not correspond to those described by Perrot (see Eldar and Baumgarten 1985a:136). Several large semi-subterranean (‘submerged’) rooms were excavated at Neve Noy, some displaying evidence of secondary phases of reconstruction/renovation, such as the addition of mudbrick walls supported by stone foundations.

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Figure 3.5 Fenestrated basalt stand (‘incense burner’) from Abu Matar, drawing by J. Golden, adapted from Perrot (1955); height 23 cm, diameter 25 cm.

Economic life at Bir es-Safadi was also much like that at other northern Negev sites, with the villagers relying mainly on the cultivation of cereals and legumes, along with herding. Analyses of the faunal assemblage indicate that sheep and goats were the primary pastoral animals (over 83%), while there is a notable absence of pig at Bir es-Safadi, an interesting pattern with implications for understanding local ecology (see Chapter 4). Specialized craft production also played an important role in economic life at Bir es-Safadi. Inside one of the subterranean chambers at the site, archaeologists identified a small workshop used for the manufacture of ivory goods. Several outstanding examples of ivory statuettes have been discovered at Bir es-Safadi, again attesting to the high level of craftsmanship achieved by Chalcolithic sculptors. One statuette representing a tall, thin man may have had a ‘life-like’ beard, as indicated by a row of perforations on the face below the mouth along the jaw. Another, headless figurine clearly represents a pregnant woman, a recurrent theme in Chalcolithic art. There is also evidence for metallurgical production at Bir es-Safadi, though it is less extensive than that across the wadi at Abu Matar. Despite limited excavations at the Neve Noy section of Safadi, several finds that contribute greatly to our understanding of Chalcolithic metallurgy have come to light. In Unit 106/102, several large flat stones were found in association with ores (malachite?), representing the remains of an ore-crushing station. Another semi-subterranean structure, Unit 144, contained evidence for copper production as well as finished metal goods. In this large, sunken courtyard



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(8 × 4.5 m) a small metallurgical installation was found in association with several stones, forming what may have been a processing station (the installation will be described in greater detail in Chapter 7). The excavators have also reported the discovery of a tuyére, which represents one of the earliest examples of this tool in the southern Levant (Eldar and Baumgarten 1985a:137).1 A fragment of copper sheet with ‘turned-up edges forming a kind of spiral’ derives from the latest phase of occupation (Level 3A) (Eldar and Baumgarten 1985a:138). This artifact offers insight into the production of certain tool types (e.g. awls) where thin sheets of metal are repeatedly rolled and hammered. A small pendant with spirals made from copper wire and several awls were also recovered (analytical data for these artifacts are presented in Chapter 7). One particularly interesting find was a group of five copper items including two standards and two axe-heads were found together, bound by a broad bracelet-like band. This attests to the fact that while there are certain differences between the complex metals and ‘utilitarian’ traditions, there seems to have been an association between all metal goods. Ultimately, we are most interested in learning whether or not the ancient producers of these goods drew the same distinctions with regard to these metals that modern scholars have.

Horvat Beter Another Chalcolithic village, located in the vicinity of Beer Sheva upstream from Abu Matar, is Horvat Beter (Khirbet et-Bitar in Arabic). The accumulation of cultural debris totals roughly 1 m, which, coupled with seemingly little evidence for temporal change, has led to the conclusion that the site was only briefly occupied (Dothan 1959b, 1953; Rosen and Eldar 1993). On the whole, the material culture from Horvat Beter is generally similar to that of the Abu Matar and Bir es-Safadi. As far as its chronological position in relation to other Chalcolithic sites is concerned, the occupation of Horvat Beter was roughly contemporary with that of Ghassul, perhaps the latest phase (Level IV), but like the Beer Sheva sites, continues on after the abandonment of Ghassul. Perrot has also commented briefly on the chronological position of the site, stating that the upper levels belong to ‘Upper level of Beer Sheva, with Abu Matar IV, and Safadi levels with rectilinear architecture’ (Perrot 1957:174). Several radiocarbon dates from the site have been recorded: one sample comes from Silo 50 associated with the surface occupation, W-245, 5280 ± 150 bp (4326–3960 Cal bc 1-sigma); and two samples from subterranean architectural contexts (Locus 30), Pta-4312, 5100 ± 130 bp (4038–3712 Cal bc 1-sigma) and Pta-4312a, 5180 ± 70 bp (4041–3956 Cal bc 1-sigma). There is also an early date from Stratum III with a value of C-919, 7420 ± 520 bp (6978–5741 Cal bc 1-sigma), which may reflect a Neolithic presence at the site (Dothan 1959b; Weinstein 1984). It should be noted that the ceramic assemblage of Horvat Beter includes some 60+ sherds from cornets (Dothan 1959:16, figs. 10:6-13, 16:11-24), representing a relatively small percentage of the overall assemblage (Gilead and Goren 1995:162), but making it one of just a few sites where cornets and copper appear in the same context. Excavations at Horvat Beter have produced evidence for metal production, though it is significantly less than that recovered from Abu Matar (Perrot 1957:175 fn.30). In Locus 11 of Stratum I, copper ore and slag were found in association with a group of ‘soot-blackened stones and some ashes’ (Dothan 1959b:5), along with fragments of copper found in a broken jar. Based on these finds, the excavator has inferred that a ‘copper smelter must have worked in the vicinity’ (1959b:5). One artifact has been chemically analyzed, revealing a composition of ‘pure’ copper, which was ‘wrought or rolled copper, rather than smelted’ (Dothan 1959b:32). This small production station provides evidence that while large, centralized shops were in operation at the Beer Sheva sites, individual households were also engaged in copper production.

Shiqmim Less than 16 km downstream from the Beer Sheva settlement cluster is the site of Shiqmim. Shiqmim was first discovered by Thomas Levy during his surface survey along the wadis of the

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northern Negev, and eight field seasons of excavation (1977, 1982–84, 1987–89, and 1993) have been carried out at the site (Levy 1987; Levy et al. 1991a, 1991b). The settlement, which is roughly 9.5 ha in size, comprises an upper village with some 1 m of cultural deposits built on the hills of loess, and a lower village on the floodplain terrace adjacent to the wadi channel. A series of related cemeteries located on the nearby hills has been excavated, in addition to several outlying settlements (e.g. Shiqmim Darom, Mizrah and Mezad Aluf). Four main stratigraphic levels corresponding to three principle phases of occupation have been identified at Shiqmim (Levy et al. 1991a). The earliest phase (Str. III) was characterized by the construction of subterranean architecture involving a network of chambers and tunnels much like that of the Beer Sheva sites. In one of these structures, Room 7, a series of pits were repeatedly re-used over several phases and stone walls were sometimes built within the subterranean system in order to reinforce the exposed loess from which they were initially carved. The next phase of occupation (Stratum II) was an open-air settlement situated on the rich alluvial soil of the wadi floodplain. Based on radiocarbon dates, it appears that most subterranean and surface settlement took place between roughly 5590±60 bp (RT-1334) (4489–4353 Cal bc 1-sigma) and 5080±180 bp (RT-859C) (4042–3660 Cal bc 1-sigma) (Burton and Levy 2001: fig. 4). Once established, much of the surface settlement was built in a relatively short period of time (Levy et al. 1991a). The architecture of Stratum II consists of houses as well as several large rectilinear buildings (e.g. 5×10 m) some with courtyards. The northwest-southeast orientation of the architecture and the network of alleys have led the excavator to conclude that Shiqmim represents one of the earliest examples of a planned village in the southern Levant (Levy et al. 1991a:403). Extensive traces of burning indicate that part of the site may have been destroyed during the final phase of occupation. Part of the Shiqmim village was cut into the low hills flanking the wadi banks. As a result of this and other factors such as the lack of much subsequent occupation, Shiqmim offers some excellent examples of well-preserved architecture. For instance, several well-preserved walls, some over 2.0 m in height, have been uncovered. These examples reveal that the superstructure of these buildings was made of mudbrick set on stone foundation. The relatively undisturbed settlement plan shows broadrooms ranging from 5.5 × 2.5 to 5.0 × 10 m, often attached to courtyards of irregular size and shape. The rooms and courtyards often had small pits and hearths along with domestic tools such as grinding slabs and hand-stone fragments. The house structures are often separated by alleys and plazas. Similar architectural elements have been observed at other sites such as Abu Hamid, which had similar dwellings with courtyards and storage rooms (Dollfus and Kafafi 1988, 1989, 1993). Like their neighbors, the inhabitants of Shiqmim relied mainly on a combined strategy of farming and herding for subsistence. Two-rowed barley was the most common crop (83% of the floral assemblage) at Shiqmim, followed by wheat and lentil (Kislev 1987). Based on studies of archaeobotanical remains from Shiqmim, Rosen (1995; Levy 1995) explains that simple irrigation techniques were used to assist in the cultivation of wheat and barley. Specifically she points to phytoliths, the silica ‘skeletons’ of plant cells, which indicate that crops at Shiqmim were grown under irrigation conditions (these are notably larger than those from plants grown under dry-farming conditions). Another improvement in farming technology was the use of cattle for traction in plowing, a development reflected in the faunal assemblage. According to Grigson (2003) the broadened epiphyses and osteitis observed on cattle may indicate that they were being used for drafting. Of course, animals were also kept as a source of food, and evidence from the faunal assemblage, specifically, an increase in the age of female animals, reflects a growing dependence on secondary products (i.e. wool and dairy goods) in the economy of Shiqmim. Kislev (1987), in fact, has argued that the low frequency of pulses from the Shiqmim sample is evidence that the people of Shiqmim relied more heavily on animal products.



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The ceramic assemblage from Shiqmim includes Cream Ware pottery, particularly ‘V-shaped’ bowls, hemispherical bowls and necked jars, as well as jars and bowls painted with large red bands like those from the Beer Sheva sites (Levy and Menachem 1987; Burton 2004). Ceramic churns are rare, while cornets are all but completely absent. The lithic assemblage is dominated by flake tools, with some blades, bladelets, axes, adzes and various drilling tools (Levy and Rosen 1987). ‘Tabular’ fan-shaped scrapers have also been found at Shiqmim (Rowan forthcoming). While most of the archaeological remains found at Shiqmim represent domestic activities, there is some evidence that probably reflects ritual activity at the site. Two open-air altars have been identified, one being a crescent-shaped construction (5 × 6 m) with stone foundations and a mudbrick superstructure. In the center of the altar, a pottery cache with a fenestrated stand was discovered (Levy et al. 1991a: 400). Excavations at Shiqmim have also produced a number of figurines including a basalt head, and a female ‘violin-shaped’ figurine with breasts. Another figurine (Fig. 3.4:d) from Shiqmim represents a unique example of an anthropomorphic figurine made of bone. Even more striking is the fact that this example combines elements of both the ‘violinshaped’ figurines and the ivory statuettes from the Beer Sheva sites, in an unprecedented merging of traditions (Levy and Golden 1996; Amiran and Tadmor 1980; Perrot 1959). Several exquisite ivory objects have been found at Shiqmim, including a dove-shaped hairpin and an ivory vial with herringbone design. Evidence for a lively metallurgical industry, including ore, slag, crucibles, the remains of smelting installations and ‘raw’ metal has been known since the earliest excavations at Shiqmim (Shalev and Northover 1987; Shalev et al. 1992; Levy and Shalev 1989). Many of the archaeometallurgical remains were found in association with ash-filled heating installations, all concentrated at the western end of the site. The metallurgical activity zone at the western end of the site also involves several large buildings such as Building 23-24 and Building 25 (Fig. 3.6). Otherwise, evidence for metallurgy appears in association with several households at the site, as well as at the outlying satellite site of Mezad Aluf. Chemical analyses of the ore, slag and metal from Shiqmim so far indicate that only ‘pure’ copper was processed at the site (Shalev and Northover 1987; Golden et al. 2001). The copperrich ores at Shiqmim, mainly brick-red cuprite, green malachite, and ‘brecciated’ ore with these two types and lower levels of iron inter-mixed, are virtually identical to ore from the Beer Sheva sites. Research teams working on material from Shiqmim and Faynan in the Wadi Arabah in Jordan have concluded that the ores used by the metalsmiths at the settlement most likely derive from the Faynan mines (Hauptmann 1989; Shalev et al. 1992; Golden et al. 2001), though Timna (Rothenberg 1990b) as a source cannot be totally ruled out. The corpus of finished copper goods from Shiqmim includes several tool-shaped artifacts, namely chisels, awl, axes and adzes made of relatively pure copper. Complex metal castings— scepters and maceheads made from copper with arsenic and antimony among other trace elements—have also been found at Shiqmim. In one part of the village, complex metal castings were intentionally buried as ‘foundation deposits’ at the bases of buildings. In some instances, these deposits were located in the vicinity of metallurgical stations (Levy et al. 1991a). We will explore in much greater depth both the social and technical dimensions of copper production at Shiqmim and the Beer Sheva sites in subsequent chapters.

Summary We have now reviewed the archaeological evidence from some of the more thoroughly studied Chalcolithic sites, focusing in particular on metal-related finds and material that contributes to our understanding of Chalcolithic chronology. This survey of sites is by no means meant to be

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Figure 3.6 Distribution of archaeological evidence for copper production at the Chalcolithic village of Shiqmim (Str. II); while small clusters of archaeometallurgical remains are distributed throughout the village, there is a larger density of artifacts at the western end of the site indicating a concentration of work stations (Levy et al. 1991a; Golden et al. forthcoming).



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exhaustive, and as one of our primary aims is to study copper production, we will revisit some of these sites for an even closer look later on in the discussion. Our goal for now has been to understand the cultural context in which the local metal industries first emerged, in addition to building a temporal framework within which the metal industry developed. As stated earlier, it is critical to establish a temporal framework for understanding the development of Chalcolithic archaeometallurgy if we are to be able to discuss change within this industry. Ultimately, we want to study the evolution of copper metallurgy, and three major developments in particular: the first appearance of any metal in the region, the emergence of complex metal castings, and the northern Negev copper boom of the late the 5th millennium bc. In the preceding discussion, we have identified four phases spanning the period from the Neolithic to the Early Bronze 1: (1) a late Neolithic transitional phase, most apparent in late Wadi Rabah elements; (2) the ‘pre-metallic’ Chalcolithic phase preceding the local advent of copper, and generally corresponding to the Ghassulian Chalcolithic (Bourke et al. 2000; Lovell 2001); (3) the ‘copper horizon’, a mid-late Chalcolithic phase, when the Beer Sheva culture flourished and the cave tomb tradition was established (see Chapter 4); and (4) a late Chalcolithic-EB 1 transitional phase, which may correspond to Joffe and Dessel’s (1995) Terminal Chalcolithic. This reconstruction, based primarily on broad trends in the ceramic assemblages and on the distribution of copper, is meant only as a general framework, and no doubt more precise analyses of Chalcolithic chronology are badly needed. For our present purposes, we will proceed to work within this general system of periodization, addressing more specific problems as they arise.

Note

1. No illustration for the artifact has been published.

4

Elite Tombs of the Chalcolithic: Mortuary Practices as Evidence for Social Organization

Introduction There has been considerable debate regarding the level of social complexity achieved during the Chalcolithic. Specifically, scholars disagree as to whether social organization developed to such a point that there were significant disparities in wealth and status resulting in standing, if not rigid, social hierarchies. While some have suggested that there was indeed such a hierarchy, and an overall form of social organization akin to chiefdoms (Gopher and Tsuk 1996; Levy 2003; Levy and Holl 1987; Joffe 1991; Schick 1998), others have argued that social distinctions were not yet pronounced at this time (Gilead 1994). In truth it comes down largely to a matter of how the archaeological evidence is interpreted. For instance, a number of scholars, have pointed to evidence that reflects the intentional display of wealth, i.e. conspicuous consumption, as indicative of an emerging social hierarchy. Blackham (1999:63), in his reassessment of material from North’s excavations at Ghassul argues that ‘the differentials in house sizes, and storage capacities…in conjunction with cornets and other elaborately decorated pottery, as well as violin-shaped figurines, pedestaled vessels, animal figurines, pendants, jewelry, wall paintings, and [stone] maceheads are all indicators that Ghassulian society was preoccupied with displays of wealth and prestige.’ According to Bourke (1997b:413 fn 1), the ‘growing archaeological evidence for wealth inequality, elaborate cult practice and differential burial mode suggest the emergence of heightened levels of socio-economic complexity. Comparison with Amratian Egypt and Ubaid Mesopotamia is entirely appropriate revealing many similarities.’ Despite the comparisons, however, the evidence for social hierarchy in the southern Levant is not as conspicuous as it is in these neighboring societies. Certainly the people of this region had luxury goods such as metal and ivory, which implies differential access to economic resources. Yet, many of these goods derive from small caches or ritual deposits, which could represent collective holdings; this is especially true of some of the cave tomb contexts discussed in this chapter. In other words, drawing a direct correlation between the presence of expensive goods and specific individuals is not a simple matter. And while Blackham (1999) may point to differentiation in the size and design of houses at Ghassul, it is not clear that this was the case at other sites. With a host of new data pertaining to this problem, it is clear that the debate about social organization during the Chalcolithic warrants re-examination. One of the best indicators used for studying social organization comes in the form of mortuary data, as it often provides a view on such important factors as wealth, status, and kinship relations. Still such evidence is open to interpretation. For example, while it has been argued that the cemetery at Shiqmim reflects social ranking during the Chalcolithic (Levy 1987; Levy and Alon 1989), others have found this evidence less convincing (Hanbury-Tenison 1986; Lovell 2001). In fact, a wide variety of burial practices have been observed during the Chalcolithic, so much so that it is difficult to draw correlations between specific practices and the values and belief systems



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they represent. Sub-adults, for instance, appear to have been treated in a variety of ways, with no clearly discernable pattern. Furthermore, graves often do not contain any artifacts—in many cases they were robbed—thus making it difficult to tie an extramural cemetery to a specific settlement as well as to date it securely. One of the most distinctive features of the Chalcolithic mortuary culture is the ossuary. Also known as a ‘charnel house’ or ‘bone box’, it is a ceramic receptacle that in most cases contains, or at one time contained, the bones of secondary burials. Complete examples include both the main case and lid. Perrot and Ladiray (1980) have developed a system for classifying ossuaries, dividing them into three general groups: open tubs, enclosed structures, and jars. The so-called structural ossuaries, also known as ‘house ossuaries’, are thought by some to resemble the design of real domestic structures at the time, but parallels for this type of house design are rare in the archaeological record. Some of these ceramic ossuaries integrate applied and/or painted elements mimicking architectural elements such as beams and doors, in addition to representing anthropomorphic features such as prominent noses, eyes, and breasts. The open tub ossuaries, usually made of stone, are simpler in design. Jars are less common, especially in the Negev, though some outstanding examples of jar-shaped ceramic urns have recently been discovered at the site of Kissufim (Goren and Fabian 2002, see below). The four urns from Kissufim are striking in their display of painted vegetal motifs, concentric circles and other curvilinear designs and are unique in that their apertures are on the top third of the vessel (Goren 2002). Burial caves containing ossuaries have been found throughout the Mediterranean climatic areas (Goren and Fabian 2002), the densest concentration being in the area north of Nahal Soreq. It is noteworthy that ossuaries are virtually unknown in the Beer Sheva area: there is one example from Shiqmim (Levy and Alon 1987) and a fragment of one from Bir es-Safadi. Ossuaries represent but one dimension of southern Levantine mortuary practices, and as noted already, multiple traditions have been observed (for a useful index of Chalcolithic burial sites see van den Brink 1998). A general synthesis of Chalcolithic mortuary archaeology is a huge and much needed undertaking, one that is beyond the scope of the current discussion. But a series of recent discoveries indicates that many of the most important metallurgical discoveries derive from burials and thus certain aspects of this topic must be addressed here. Specifically, archaeologists have discovered several cave tombs housing multiple burials furnished with luxury goods. Taken together with previously discovered sites of a similar nature, these constitute evidence for an important burial tradition that has hitherto been under-appreciated. We will begin with a brief review of the known Chalcolithic cemeteries, followed by a discussion of the tantalizing evidence from what probably represent cave tombs for the elite.

Chalcolithic Cemetery Sites The Shiqmim Cemetery The extensive burial site adjacent to the village of Shiqmim represents the only extramural cemetery in the northern Negev (Levy 1993). The cemetery spans over 1 km, stretched across the hilltops of a chalk ridge overlooking the Beer Sheva Valley. Approximately 100 mortuary structures, including grave circles, cist graves and burial cairns have been recorded at Shiqmim cemetery (Levy and Alon 1982, 1985, 1987). Grave circles, the most frequently encountered form of burial, range from roughly 1-3.5 m in diameter, and contain secondary burials. There is evidence to suggest that the construction of some graves (e.g. burial cairns) at the Shiqmim cemetery required greater energy expenditure than others, and in some cases include grave goods such as ceramics, beads and palettes (Levy and Alon 1985). Disparities in wealth, however, are not pronounced and luxury goods such as metals and basalt do not appear in the graves, save one or two exceptions

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(Hanbury-Tenison 1986). The cist structures, found primarily in Cemetery III each contained a bowl, often a V-shaped bowl, usually on the floor of the structure. And though no human remains were found, Levy and Alon (1985) have argued that the cists were used for excarnation before the bones were collected for the secondary burial in the circular graves. The arrangement of the burials may in some cases provide evidence for social groupings. For instance, the burial cairns form clusters of 10 to 25 structures, while two hilltops had twelve cist graves (Levy 1993; Levy and Alon 1985). Perhaps each cluster of mortuary structures represented an extended family or lineage. In several instances, it appears that children were buried with a relatively large number of grave goods, which may also say something about the wealth and status of particular lineages.

Wadi Fidan Site 009 Grave circles similar to those at Shiqmim also appear at Wadi Fidan Site 009, where a cemetery sits on a low plateau along the northwest side of the Fidan Gorge (Levy et al. 1999). It should be noted that some of the Fidan 009 graves could date to as late as the early EB1, while a different section of the cemetery was used during the Iron Age.1 The grave circles were built with wadi cobbles in a style and method similar to that used for the grave circles at Shiqmim and Safi, a site in the southern Ghor, just south of the Dead Sea (Adams 1991:181; Levy et al. 2001). The Fidan 009 cemetery also had a number of well-built cist tombs capped by large, flat stones, with a stone circle above. It is possible that these larger and more elaborately constructed tombs belonged to people of greater wealth and/or status. Unfortunately, there was little in the way of grave goods.

Funerary practices of the Dead Sea Region The funerary culture of the Dead Sea region incorporated a variety of practices including open-air enclosures (for excarnation), cist graves and tumuli used for secondary burials. The cemetery at Adeimeh, which consists of some hundred cist graves, may have served the people of Ghassul only 2 km away, though the precise dating of the cemetery is uncertain, and it too could be early EBA in date (Mallon et al. 1934; Stekelis 1935; Hanbury-Tenison 1986). The graves are generally rectangular stone-lined pits, roughly 1m long. Some contain primary inhumations where the bodies are usually flexed, while others are secondary burials that include the long bones and skull only. The cemetery complex also includes several tumuli that are much larger (5 m wide on average), comprising a mound of stone covering finely constructed cairns similar to those from Shiqmim (Levy 1993b). There is also a large (30 m wide) stone-built enclosure just to the south of the cist graves and tumuli (Hanbury-Tenison 1986). Roughly 1 km south of Bab edh-Dra’ is another cemetery consisting of some thirty cairn graves, similar in form though larger than the cist graves of Adeimeh and covered with a small mound of rubble (McCreery 1978/79). In some cases, fragmentary border walls project from the tumuli, as if to delineate grave clusters and Bourke (2002a:19) has argued that this may reflect affiliations between the individuals buried in the cist graves with social/political leaders, perhaps chieftains. Thus, while individual identities were retained through the use of the separate cist graves, there is also evidence for group-affirming traditions, assuming these different mortuary features were contemporary. Two large enclosures roughly 25 m wide were also discovered at the site, possibly demarcating an area used for ritual activities associated with the burial (Clark 1978). The dating of both cemeteries, however, is problematic as the ceramics finds are limited; yet in both cases, an association with the Ghassulian Chalcolithic seems likely. Bourke (2002a) has attempted to draw a parallel between the Adeimeh and Bab edh-Dra’ enclosures and the enclosure near the Nahal Mishmar cave (Bar-Adon 1980). He points to Moorey’s (1989) argument that the so-called ‘crowns’ from the famed copper hoard may actually represent



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excarnation enclosures, suggesting this was a recurrent motif. Together, argues Bourke (2001, 2002a), these examples may represent a ‘coherent Dead Sea regional funerary culture’, which contrasts with the cave and ossuary culture (see below) of the coast and highlands. These varying burial practices, in fact, may be indicative of general differences in ideological belief systems between two sub-regional cultures.

The Eilat cemetery Archaeologists working in the Eilat area have recently discovered a cemetery representing the late Neolithic- early Chalcolithic (ca. 5500–4500 bc) (Avner 2008; Eshed, forthcoming), though it is difficult to date securely, with radiocarbon dates ranging from 6400±210 (RT-1215) to 5400±100 (RT-926b) (mid-fifth to mid-sixth millennium bc) (Burton and Levy 2001:Appendix). Investigation of the burials (N=28) revealed that children less than three years old were entirely absent from the cemetery, a standard pattern for cemeteries and cave sites where secondary burial is practiced. Low frequencies of infants and young children have been observed at sites such as Peqi’in (Nagar and Eshed 2001), Kissufim (Zagerson and Smith 2002), Shiqmim cemetery (Levy et al. 1991) and Ben-Shemen (Perrot and Ladiray 1980), but whether this is differential preservation or preferential burial treatment is unclear. This mortuary site is interesting not only because it represents an early example of an extramural cemetery, which would become common during the Chalcolithic, but also because it includes one of the earliest tumulus burials in the region.

Cave Tombs of the Levantine Coast and Highlands With the relatively recent discovery of a series of wealthy cave tombs, the archaeological evidence for social ranking must be reconsidered. In fact, research over the past few decades has produced a number of finds that provide compelling evidence for differences in wealth and status in the late Chalcolithic societies. According to van den Brink (1998), the number of mortuary caves known in Israel has nearly tripled since the 1980s. In some cases, such as Palmachim, Azor, and Giv’atayim, these were not natural caves but rather were hewn from the kurkar ridges overlooking the coast (Gophna and Lifshitz 1980; Perrot and Ladiray 1980; Sussman and Ben-Arieh 1966). And even in the case of natural caves, such as the karstic caves in the central highlands, architectural modifications, such as the construction of terraces and benches, are typical. In a number of cases, cave sites appear in clusters, for instance at both Ben Shemen and Shoham there are six caves each, and at Qula (West) there are seven (Perrot 1967; van den Brink and Gophna 1996; Milovski and Shabo 1997). In almost all cases, the cave included secondary burials found in and around ceramic ossuaries (van den Brink 1998). Also common to a number of these tombs are caches of luxury goods, including complex metals, ivory and basalt. There is, however, no indication that either these tombs or their contents belonged to any one individual, as each burial context contains the remains of multiple individuals. Thus, it might be argued that the wealthy burials such as those from Givat Ha-Oranim, Nahal Qanah and Peqi’in were used as the final resting places, not for chiefs or the like, but for members of powerful lineages (see below). In any event, these cave tombs represents an important burial custom of the Chalcolithic that was previously difficult to recognize, and provides the strongest evidence to date that there were some disparities in wealth and prestige. We will now take a closer look at some of the cave tombs that represent this elite burial tradition.

Kissufim Road Beginning with the coastal plain, we turn our attention to three sites in particular, Kissufim, Plamachim and Giv’atayim. Investigation of the Kissufim Road site, located in the lower Besor

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area, was undertaken by the Israel Antiquities Authority as part of salvage operations conducted in 1991 (Goren and Fabian 2002). The site is situated some 10 km inland, lying between the kurkar ridges that typify the coastal area. Kissufim comprises several clusters of burials, constituting a sizable mortuary complex, which includes an impressive mudbrick funerary chamber. The ceramic assemblage from Kissufim includes both specialized mortuary wares as well as pottery more typical of domestic assemblages. The domestic wares are similar to those from the Beer Sheva sites, and distinct from sites of the Nahal Patish (e.g. Gilat), Grar, and the Besor sites; for example like the former group, Kissufim Road site does not have cornets, while cornets are common in the latter group. Ceramic types found at Kissufim include ‘V-shaped’ bowls, holemouth jars, kraters, and churns. The ceramics associated with the burials share many common elements with mortuary assemblages from other sites of the coastal plain. For example, burial tubs discovered at the site generally correspond with Perrot and Ladiray’s (1980) Group 1, and there are house-shaped ossuaries that also display affinities with those from other coastal sites, forming part of what Bourke (2002a) has called a broader ‘coastal upland cave and ossuary culture’. One of the most outstanding features of this assemblage is a group of four ovoid urns noted above. Adjacent to the burial pit (L. 501) a group of massebot (standing stones) was discovered. As for the burials themselves, four different types of mortuary practices have been observed at Kissufim Road: a collective pit burial, individual pit burials, a primary burial, and a mudbrick funerary chamber. The latter was partly destroyed, but the archaeologists could ascertain that this semi-subterranean structure was roughly 10 sq m with walls 0.6-0.8 m thick. It may have originally been covered with a roof built with wooden beams and kurkar slabs, several of which had collapsed into the tomb crushing the ceramics beneath them. A range of ceramics including ossuaries, urns, and burial tubs were discovered in the tomb; some may have initially sat in niches built into the walls. In the collective burial pit (L. 501) 15 m east of the funerary chamber, the remains of multiple (n=11) individuals were placed in and around the stone burial tubs. Several of these burials included perforated shell pendants. In the mudbrick funerary structure, on the other hand, there were but two individuals, juveniles, each placed in their own individual vessel. The funerary chamber also contained an impressive assemblage of pottery with a number of unique and rare forms, such as basket-handled pedestalled goblets. Petrographic analysis suggests that the ossuaries were locally made (Goren 2002), while one ‘V-shaped’ bowl from Kissufim contained the charred remains of what has been identified as Trigonella arabica, a local, non-food plant, perhaps some kind of burnt offering (Kislev and Melamed 2002). According to the site’s excavators (Goren and Fabian 2002:83), this range of burial practices represents what may be the most pronounced intra-site variability of any Chalcolithic site in the southern Levant. Furthermore, they point to the extremes in this range—the mudbrick tomb on one hand and the collective burial pit on the other—and infer evidence for ‘exceptionally different concepts in the treatment and disposal of the dead’ (Goren and Fabian 2002:83). They propose that these differences could relate to either marked differences in social status of the individuals buried if they date to around the same time, or reflect change in practices over time if they do not. If the excavated burials are contemporary, ‘the different burial installations reflect an assemblage of burial customs that were adopted for different hierarchies within a contemporary society (Goren and Fabian 2002:83). They also suggest that this could represent different stages of a sequential burial process, i.e. that the large chamber was actually underused and had either lost or was awaiting additional burials. It is significant that the individuals buried inside the funerary chamber were sub-adults, placed inside a relatively plain krater and a small burial tub, while the urns and ossuary remained empty. The tomb construction itself suggests disproportionate energy expenditure, but luxury goods such as copper, basalt and ivory, known from cave tombs of the period, are notably absent. Thus, the



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notion that this structure served as a temporary repository used prior to final burial (Smith 2002) seems more plausible than the possibility that it was a tomb which actually belonged to the two juveniles.

Palmachim Palmachim is located on the Mediterranean coast, roughly 20 km south of Tel Aviv. The most intense occupation of the site in antiquity dates to the Early Bronze Age, however, one cave site, Cave 9, dates to the Chalcolithic (Gophna and Lifshitz 1980; Gophna and Portugali 1988). Based on the discovery of human remains and fragments of ten ossuaries, it is clear that the cave was used as a tomb. The ossuaries are painted with red, brown, and black bands and have plastic decoration applied to the vessel body. Several ceramic sherds in the form of noses and pierced lug handles, which may have been intended to represent small arms, were also found in the tomb and most likely were initially attached to the ossuaries. These ossuaries have strong parallels with examples from a number of burial sites such as Peqi’in. The ceramic assemblage from Cave 9 also includes ‘V-shaped’ vessels and ‘rounded’ (hemispherical?) bowls; characteristic red-painted bands appear on a number of vessels. Some examples have marks indicating that a tournette, or slow wheel, was used in their manufacture (Gophna and Lifshitz 1980). There are also several examples of a rare ceramic form known as a ‘bird-shape’ vessel that appear in the cave. These ceramics feature what is called a ‘trumpet’ base, and have a vertical line of perforations on the back. These pots were also made in part using the tournette (Gophna and Lifshitz 1980:4). While these so-called ‘bird-shape’ vessels are unique in the southern Levant, the excavators have pointed to curious affinities with the so-called ‘dove-shaped’ vessels from early Halafian levels at Arpaciyah (Mallowan and Rose 1935) and the Protoliterate period at Khafaje (Delougaz 1952). These vessels also recall certain ceramics from the Ubaid culture, and hints of an Ubaid influence have been found elsewhere in the region. At the Abu-Sinan cave site in the Galilee, for instance, Frankel and Gophna (1980) have identified Ubaid-style pottery—white or cream-colored slip with red/brown painted designs, some with Ubaid motifs, pointing to parallels from Ras Shamra. Hennessy (1969) observed Ubaid elements in some of the Ghassul pottery. Of particular interest is a small cache of metal artifacts discovered in Cave 9. One outstanding item is a standard made from a complex metal—copper with arsenic and antimony (see Chapter 8). The discovery of these types of goods at Palmachim is particularly important for two reasons: 1) it is the first instance of complex metal castings found on the coastal plain, extending their known area of distribution, and 2) Palmachim Cave 9 represents another example of the association between complex metal castings and burial caves. During more recent excavations at Palmachim some 50 Chalcolithic graves, round and rectangular structures with corbelled domes built of local stone, have been discovered (Gorzalczany 2006). These small tombs, in many cases well preserved, range from 1.5 to 3 m in size and represent a type of burial previously unknown in the coastal region. Some twenty oviform ossuaries made from the local kurkar stone and often finely carved have been found in the graves (Fig. 4.1). The use of kurkar ossuaries represents a local tradition, apparently bound by the availability of raw material, as they have been found at other coastal sites such as Benē Berak, Giv’atayim and Kissufim, but are otherwise rare in the southern Levant. Other forms of burial observed at the Palmachim cemetery include a series of rectangular burial cells sharing a long wall, and thus dubbed ‘ladder burials’, as well as tombs dug into the pavement between the structures. The limited and poorly preserved ceramics include holemouth jars and cornets, which according to the excavator, dates the cemetery to the ‘Ghassul phase’ of the Chalcolithic period (Gorzalczany 2006). The lithic assemblage includes blades, finely retouched bladelets, and blade cores; a perforated kurkar pendant was also recovered from one burial.

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Figure 4.1 Tomb with kurkar ossuaries discovered during recent salvage operations at the coastal site of Palmachim, drawing by J. Golden adapted from Gorzalczany (2006); the dimensions of the two ossuaries is approximately 1.6 meters.

Several massebot have also been found, and one example associated with the pavement abutting a tomb bore traces of burning. A vessel found sitting within a niche of a tomb wall also had traces of burning, suggesting that some form of graveside ritual involving burning was carried out, a pattern seen at other tomb sites. The sequence of burials indicates that the cemetery was used over several generations, and perhaps these rituals were performed as part of an effort to reinforce lineages and kin relations.

Giv’atayim Giv’atayim is located in the kurkar hills overlooking the Ono Valley and Shephelah just east of Tel Aviv. Archaeologists working in the area discovered a small cluster of some 13 caves that were used as tombs during the Chalcolithic, though no particular pattern for the sequence in which the caves were used has been determined (Sussman and Ben-Arieh 1966; Kaplan 1993). This mortuary complex is particularly interesting in that three different forms of burial were in use, in some cases, side-by-side: stone burial tubs, ceramic ossuaries, and ceramic urns. In Cave No. 1, a house-shaped ossuary had been placed on stone slabs along the interior wall of the cave, which may echo the construction of benches observed inside the inland cave tombs. Also found in Cave No. 1 was a ceramic figurine of a donkey bearing two sacks of cargo. In Cave No. 2, human remains were placed inside of (and around?2) stone burial tubs that had flat stone slabs as covers. Cave No. 3 contained the fragments of ceramic ossuaries, two complete ceramic incense stands, and several jugs, as well as carnelian beads that probably formed part of a necklace. The floor was covered with ash and charred bones, and there was evidence for burning throughout the cave, though the burning episode may be later (the EBA). In Cave No. 5, large ceramic jars were used, and in Cave No. 7, the ceramic ossuaries and jars were both present. An incense stand and ‘V-shaped’ bowls were also found in Cave No. 6. Four stelae were discovered in Cave 7, two of which stood flanking an ossuary; at least one of the stelae was originally decorated with red paint (Sussman and Ben-Arieh 1966). This assemblage of burial



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goods, coupled with the evidence for burning suggests that some form of funerary rite could have been carried out at or in the tomb. Considering the differences in burial types, the site’s excavators have argued that this probably reflects differences in social standing (Sussman and Ben-Arieh 1966). It is noteworthy that no copper was found in any of these tombs, and basalt fenestrated stands, often found in such burial contexts, are lacking from many of the tombs.

Nahal Qanah Moving inland toward the highland zone, we find one of the most impressive of the cave tombs, the Nahal Qanah cave. Located in the western Samaria hills, precise information about the location of the tomb has been deliberately withheld for purposes of protecting it (Gopher and Tsuk 1991). The Nahal Qanah site was discovered in 1981 and excavated under the direction of Gopher and Tsuk (1991, 1996). Excavation of the site began that year with subsequent research carried out between 1987 and 1989. There has been considerable karstic activity in the cave subsequent to its final use in the Chalcolithic and, in fact, the cave is still active today. Though this has resulted in greater preservation of the artifacts in some cases, it has also made it more complicated to sort out the history of the cave’s use, and in most cases stratigraphic principles do not apply. Radiocarbon dates for Chalcolithic activity in the cave fall between the late fifth and mid fourth millennium bc: RT-861E 5440 ± 100 bp (4357–4114 Cal bc 1-sigma); RT-861C 5240 ± 180 bp (4323–3803 Cal bc 1-sigma); RT-861A 5150 ± 190 bp (4222–3710 Cal bc 1-sigma); RT-1545 5340 ± 57 bp (4317–4045 Cal bc 1-sigma); RT-1543 5090 ± 75 bp (3971–3789 Cal bc 1-sigma) (Carmi 1996). Artifacts dating to the Neolithic, Chalcolithic, and Early Bronze Age have been found at the site, where excavations have probed some 100 m from the entrance and to a depth of some 25 m. The majority of the finds, however, are from the Chalcolithic. There are two main Chalcolithic deposits in the Nahal Qanah cave, dubbed the Copper Chamber and the Terrace Chamber by the excavators (Gopher and Tsuk 1991, 1996). The Terrace Chamber is an elongated room located in the deepest portion of the cave. The excavators have identified at least ten walls, built as part of an effort to modify the cave by creating terraces, which were preserved to a height of 1.3 m in four different parts of the cave. Similar terraces have also been observed in other parts of the cave, namely the Upper Chamber and the Square Chamber. In some cases, the terraces were used as shelves to hold vessels and ossuaries. The Central Hall, which contained most of the evidence for human remains along with ossuary fragments and burial offerings, was probably the main burial chamber. Disarticulated skeletal remains, including the skull of a child, were found in one of the cave’s many passageways. Pottery finds from the cave include Cream Ware jars and ‘V-shaped’ bowls, goblets, churns and necked and holemouth jars (Gopher and Tsuk 1991). The composition of this ceramic assemblage is interesting as it includes luxury wares such as the Cream Ware, and ‘functional’ forms such as the churn, which could have played a role in some form of mortuary ritual (see below). The excavators have drawn a distinction between ceramics of the Ghassulian assemblage and those of the Beer Sheva sub-regions, concluding that the pottery from Nahal Qanah is more representative of the latter because of the presence of Cream Wares and the absence of cornets. Various goods made of bone, ivory, and shell have also been found in the Nahal Qanah cave, as well as hematite maceheads and a large decorated bead made of turquoise. A ‘perforated tusk’ similar to examples found at Nahal Mishmar, Bir es-Safadi, and Shiqmim has also been found at Nahal Qanah, while perforated rods, made of bone and ivory, also found in the cave are similar to examples from Ghassul as well as Mostagedda in Egypt (Scham and Garfinkel 2000). As for the source of the ivory, it derives from either elephant or hippopotamus tusk, probably coming from Egypt, though it cannot be ruled out that the tusks of local hippopotami were used. One vessel, originally thought to date to the Yarmukian has been re-dated by Garfinkel (1999a) to the Chalcolithic. The pot in question is a cooking pot that was charred on the outside and contained organic matter and a bone point.

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What is most interesting about this find is that it could represent the practice of ritual feasting or burning in the tomb at the time of, or subsequent to, the burial (for a good general discussion of ritual feasting see Dietler and Hayden 2001). The grave goods from Nahal Qanah also include some of the region’s most spectacular metal finds. All of the metal goods were found in one portion of the cave known as the Copper Chamber. Two of these items were complex metal castings with direct correlates in the Nahal Mishmar hoard. One is a hollow scepter with a disc-shaped macehead made of copper with high levels of arsenic and antimony. Another item has been described as a ‘crown fragment’ because of its similarity to certain portions of the so-called crowns from Nahal Mishmar. This object is made from a unique alloy of copper with As, Sb, and Ag (Gopher and Tsuk 1991:25; for an alternative explanation of the ‘crowns’ see Moorey 1988). Two pieces of copper wire wound together were also found in the Copper Chamber, recalling the copper wire that bound a group of metal artifacts found at Neve Noy. The most celebrated discovery made at Nahal Qanah is the group of eight ring-shaped objects fashioned from gold and gold-based metals. The rings were recovered from a small, vertically oriented cavity that had both Chalcolithic and Neolithic ceramics and was sealed by later EB I material. Gopher and Tsuk (1991) point out that while they have a certain finished appearance, the rings are most likely too large and cumbersome to have been used as items of personal adornment. Alternatively, the excavators have pointed to later parallels from Egypt (ca. 15th century bc) where items similar in shape functioned as ingots. In either case, it appears the gold was included in the cave as some form of burial offering (Gopher et al. 1990; Gopher and Tsuk 1991). As there are no precedents for this artifact type (i.e. large rings), nor evidence for the production of goldbased metals, nor local sources for this material, it seems likely that the gold rings were imports. Chemical analysis of the metals reveals that with one exception (Ring 4), the metals used to make the rings were an alloy of gold and silver (30%), i.e. electrum, representing the earliest gold of any sort in the southern Levant (Gopher et al. 1990; Gopher and Tsuk 1991; Shalev 1994). The higher concentrations of gold (80-90%) in samples taken from the surface of the rings indicate that the metalworkers that made them intentionally enriched the surface of the metal to enhance its appearance. The surface of each ring was ultimately hammered in order to finish the product. No. 1 2 3 4 5 6

% Gold

Surface % Gold

% Silver

Surface % Silver

% Copper

Surface % Copper

64.43 71.45 69.25 98.00 68.68 69.53

80.40 90.29 87.61 96.38 86.05 88.47

35.22 28.04 30.33 01.47 30.07 29.81

19.40 9.42 12.15 03.32 13.24 11.15

0.35 0.51 0.42 0.53 1.25 0.66

0.20 0.29 0.24 0.30 0.71 0.38

Table 4.1 Composition of gold and electrum rings from Nahal Qanah (Gopher et al. 1990).

Often overshadowed by this array of luxurious finished goods is an artifact described simply as an ‘amorphous lump of metal’. The metal, weighing 18 g, is copper with roughly 5% Sb, 2% As, and nearly 1% Pb. This artifact is potentially of great significance as to date there is very little evidence concerning the acquisition of the complex metals and it is possible that this artifact represents the import of raw material. A lump of imported raw metal could then be used in local workshops to produce finished goods, i.e. complex metal goods were cast locally using imported materials. We will return to this point below, when an argument for local production of complex metal castings is laid out.



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The Nahal Qanah assemblage also includes two artifacts made from ‘greenstones’, most likely copper ores. Also recovered from the cave was a spheroid bead made of a blue-green stone (roughly 2 × 2 cm and weighing 11.2 g), maybe azurite. Another artifact, either a bead or pendant, is also made from a ‘greenstone’, although no chemical analysis has been conducted on either artifact. In sum, discoveries from the Nahal Qanah cave provide critical information about several facets of early metallurgy in the southern Levant. Several points in particular stand out. First, complex metal castings as well as the earliest gold in the southern Levant were used as burial goods, offering insight into the nature of the emerging luxury goods exchange. Thus it is clear that the individuals buried in the Nahal Qanah cave had access to these rare and valuable goods, and it is reasonable to assume that they were at the very least wealthier and perhaps of higher social status than other members of society who did not. Secondly, the amorphous lump of a copper with arsenic and antimony found in the cave points to the possible import of complex metals in the form of raw metal. Finally, the presence of complex metal castings in conjunction with the Beer Sheva ceramic assemblage may be an indication that these goods came later in the Chalcolithic sequence (see below).

Peqi’in One of the most fascinating discoveries in Levantine archaeology in recent years is the cave site of Peqi’in in the Upper Galilee. The cave was discovered in the course of road construction and excavated during one season in 1995 (Gal et al. 1997). The site consists of three units or chambers, each of which has been deliberately modified through the construction of walls and platforms, much like those seen at Nahal Qanah. Subsequent to the burial of the last individuals, karstic activity in the cave increased, sealing the ossuaries and human remains and in some cases possibly improving preservation of the archaeological remains. Unfortunately, the tomb was robbed at some point in antiquity, thus the context for the human remains has been obscured and we cannot be certain about the number and type of burial goods originally contained therein. The use of the cave appears to have occurred in three phases, as observed during the cutting of probes into the middle and lowest units. According to the excavators, the earliest material from the cave dates to the Wadi Rabah phase (Gal et al. 1997:147). The middle phase, described as postWadi Rabah but pre-Ghassulian, is better represented archaeologically than the previous level. This phase is characterized by the presence of bow-rim jars, hole-mouth jars, large ‘V-shaped’ bowls, and churns. During these first two phases the cave may have been used on a sporadic or seasonal basis. The third phase of cave use, referred to by the excavators as ‘the later Ghassulian phase’ (Gal et al. 1997) has yielded a large and varied assemblage of cultural material believed to represent grave goods. The extensive evidence for human remains and the vast array of ceramic ossuaries found within the cave attest to its function as a collective tomb. The corpus of funerary material from Peqi’in includes at least 250 and perhaps as many as 300 ossuaries ranging in size and shape. In many instances, there are complete examples with both the case and lid intact. The ossuaries from Peqi’in, such as the example shown in Figure 4.2, are of particular interest in that they incorporate elements of the human figure. On a number of examples, the ossuary lids bear either a human or animal face, created using a variety of methods. The rendering of faces, for instance, sometimes combines painted and/or applied decoration. In some examples only a nose or beak protrudes from the ossuary façade, while in several rare cases, arms and legs were sculpted threedimensionally. Both males and females are represented in the Peqi’in ossuary assemblage, though there seems to have been a majority of the latter (Gal et al. 1997). The recurrence of female representations in Chalcolithic art on the whole has often been interpreted as reflecting the worship of a female

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Figure 4.2 Ceramic ossuary (‘bone box’) from Peqi’in with depiction of human face (drawing by J. Golden, adapted from Gal et al. 1999); approximate height 35cm, width 25.0 cm, length 50cm.

deity (Merhav 1993; Beck 1989; Epstein 1982), but this is probably not the case with the ossuaries. While the human faces from Peqi’in obviously share a common iconography, each representation is unique, leading the excavators to suggest that the ossuary faces were intended to represent specific individuals (Gal et al. 1997). It is possible that the renderings of humans on the ossuaries were used to refer to ancestors or to convey information about different social identities and group affiliation. One noteworthy example is the unique ‘twin ossuary’, which may represent the combined burial of two related individuals. In addition to the sculpted elements, most of the ossuaries are also decorated with red painted geometric forms similar to motifs displayed in the painted decoration found on pottery and figures such as the ‘Woman with Churn’ from Gilat (see Fig. 2.4). Another method of interment represented at Peqi’in is the jar burial. There are several examples of jars designed with both ‘windows’ and lids. The dark-faced jar type, with basalt inclusions and plastic rope decoration, provides a link with the Golan Chalcolithic tradition (Gal et al. 1997; Epstein 1978). Fenestrated incense burners, or high-footed bowls, were also associated with the burials, and several examples were painted with detailed human faces on the exterior surface. In a few cases, skulls were found inside the bowls. The excavators have concluded that these stands, some with traces of burning, were used in rituals associated with the burials. Figurines have also been found in the cave, including the head of a small ivory figure similar to the Beer Sheva ivories. Ten ‘violin-shape’ figurines were also found at the site. These vary in size, with some being quite small. Some examples are marked with perforations, and one was fashioned with breasts. According to the excavators, ‘artistic development of figurative sculpture shows a chronological progression from early, realistically detailed faces to later symbolic representation’ (Gal et al. 1997:153). Throughout the region, however, the opposite trend can often be observed, where the more abstract ‘violin-shape’ figurines such as those from Gilat and Ghassul, appear to be earlier than the more naturalistic ivories from the Beer Sheva sites (Levy and Golden 1996). At



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both Shiqmim and Peqi’in, the two sculptural traditions appear side-by-side, and in one rare bone figurine from Shiqmim, were fused. The flint assemblage is rather limited, but the two dozen perforated discs provide another link with the Golan tradition. The groundstone assemblage includes several stone maceheads as well as fragments of basalt bowls on fenestrated bases. Also among the cave’s burial goods were some 190 beads made of white paste found in and around the ossuaries. The beads, only a few millimeters in size, appear to have been made by firing talc, a mineral not known to come from sources any closer than Turkey or Egypt (Bar-Yosef Mayer et al. 2004). The Peqi’in cave tomb also contained a small group of metal objects, including both toolshaped artifacts (two chisels) and complex metal castings (two standards). The standards represent two different styles, one being short and squat, the other more elongated. In terms of form, both are comparable to examples from Nahal Mishmar and elsewhere. One of the more interesting aspects of this cave site is the syncretistic nature of the burial goods. The excavators have pointed out that while Peqi’in is the first site where elements from different Chalcolithic traditions (i.e. Beer Sheva and Golan) appear together, this may also be the first indication of a previously unrecognized regional tradition centered in the Upper Galilee. It is also important to note that the cave is located in a fairly remote location away from any sizable settlement (Gal et al. 1997; Frankel et al. forthcoming). It is possible that a remote site was chosen in order to restrict access to the tomb, or that the tomb was strategically situated in a central location between different population centers. In addition to its role as a central burial site, Gal (Gal et al. 1999) has proposed that the cave, situated on the dramatic slopes of Mt. Meiron, may have functioned as a sacred place. There are also important inferences to be made concerning Chalcolithic social organization based on the discovery of the Peqi’in cave tomb. The large number of individuals—at least 453—represented in the cave suggests that it was either used over a long period of time or that it served briefly as the burial site for an extended population, perhaps from several different villages (Gal et al. 1999; Nagar and Eshed 2001). Ossuaries are usually requisite when restricted burial chambers are used repeatedly for collective burials, in order to maintain individuation (Perles 2001). The singling out of individuals, however, was not the priority, for while certain ossuaries may have been more elaborate than others, no one burial seems preeminent. It is important to note that the primary context was disturbed in antiquity, as the tomb appears to have been robbed already during the Chalcolithic; there was also a brief occupation prior to its use as a tomb (Gal et al. 1997). The large majority of people buried in this tomb were over the age of 15. Children under the age of three were entirely absent, which is quite striking considering that infant mortality rates predict there would be closer to 80 out of 453 (Nagar and Eshed 2001); at the same time, the archaeological record could be somewhat skewed as infant burials are less likely to be preserved. According to the researchers working at Peqi’in (Gal et al. 1999:14), all of this evidence points to ‘the existence of a caste, tantamount to a priestly caste, that maintained the physical state of the cave and determined and organized ritual practices and ceremonies associated with the reburials.’ Based on the inclusion of rare and valued goods, it can certainly be argued that someone, or some people, buried in the tomb possessed wealth and status, though perhaps not at the level of caste in the sense of rigid social stratification. As noted elsewhere, the use of this tomb over several generations may indicate that it belonged to an extended kin group. The excavators are also right in pointing out that, rather than see a static monument, we must imagine this tomb as a place where ritual activities were carried out. Evidence that incense burners found in the tomb had been used suggests that ritual activities involving burning may have been carried out at the site (see also van den Brink et al. 1999). More than just a dormant repository for bodies and grave goods, at the time of burial and/or secondary burial, and perhaps after this, the tomb may have served as the site of rituals performed not only out of respect for the dead, but to reinforce social cohesion and identity for the living as well.

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Givat Ha-Oranim Givat Ha-Oranim (Nahal Bareqet) is a Chalcolithic cave site located in the Judean foothills on the edge of the coastal plain, northeast of Jerusalem (Scheftelowitz and Oren 1997). The Givat Ha-Oranim site is characterized by systems of subterranean architecture, including structures and pits connected by a series of tunnels and burrows, adapted from natural karstic caves. No surface architecture has been discovered, though associated superstructures may have been there but show no traces. Of the eight multi-chambered cave complexes explored, six of these had openings in the roof, and were thus deemed habitable by excavators, while the other two without ventilation may have been reserved for storage and/or burial. Though no human remains have been found, it may be possible to infer the presence of elite burials based on the assemblage of luxury and/or ritual goods paralleling that of the aforementioned tombs. This group of well-preserved artifacts includes three complete basalt bowls and three ‘fenestrated incense burners’. Some of the fenestrated stands show traces of burning, suggesting that ritual activities may have been performed at the site of burial. Ivory objects ‘of amazingly high workmanship’ have also been reported (Scheftelowitz and Oren 1997:20). Caves that were occupied and used as living space were all found on the southern slope of a ridge running from northeast to southwest. The ‘house caves’ all varied in terms of overall size, formal design, and number of chambers. Pottery representing a typical domestic assemblage with storage, cooking and serving vessels has also been found in the cave. The discovery of domestic contexts in association with the cave tombs is critical to our understanding of the overall picture as it might now be prudent to assume that other cave tomb sites, seemingly isolated, were in fact directly associated with settlements that lay undiscovered. Goren and Fabian (2002), for instance, point out that prior to excavating at Kissufim Road, the surface finds gave no indication of a Chalcolithic presence at the site. This may be due to a very rapid process of sedimentation, suggesting that other Chalcolithic sites in similar environmental circumstances may await discovery. Other settlements in limestone foothills of the Judean Hills which should also be noted include Shoham, El’ad, Nevallat, Ono, Lod. The Givat Ha-Oranim cave is of particular interest because a number of copper and copper-based metal goods have been discovered there; more important, these artifacts have been extensively studied (Namdar et al. 2004). The metal artifacts were discovered in the subterranean structures, either in their floors or in small niches carved into their walls. The assemblage includes four piriform maceheads, two standards, two ‘decorative items’, an odd scraper-shaped artifact, two awls, several axes and chisels, and some loose fragments of metal, perhaps damaged or unused material (Namdar et al. 2004). The metal artifacts discovered at Givat Ha-Oranim have close parallels with examples from Nahal Mishmar (Scheftelowitz and Oren 2004). The decorative items bear a striking resemblance to the ornamental pieces that adorned the Nahal Mishmar ‘crowns’. The standards are unique in their form but incorporate specific individual elements, such as the ibex head and horns and a piriform machead, tying them into the same tradition as those complex metal castings from Nahal Mishmar and other sites. One observation that we can make about the materials used to make these items is that they are consistently inconsistent: the metal goods from Givat Ha-Oranim employ metals with a variety of components in a range of proportions. One macehead (97-3477) has a composition of 86% copper with 2.2% antimony, 1.4% arsenic and just around 0.5% of lead and nickel, while another macehead from the site (97-3479) has only 70% copper with 12% antimony, 6% arsenic, almost 0.5% lead and nearly 1% bismuth. The three standards found at the site actually show some degree of similarity in the materials used: one (97-3468) having roughly 84-86.6% copper, 2-3% antimony and up to 1.5% arsenic; one (97-3469) having 88% copper, nearly 3% antimony and roughly 1% arsenic; and the third having 83% copper, 3.3% antimony, and about 1% arsenic. The two artifacts classified as ‘crown’ decorations also have some degree of similarity in chemical



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composition between them: one (97-3462) has roughly 89% copper with 1.4% antimony, and 0.5% arsenic; the second has roughly 90% copper, roughly 0.6% antimony and 0.5% arsenic. Unexpectedly, the chisel (97-3484) is made of roughly 89% copper with 1.3% arsenic and 1.8% nickel. This artifact matches a similar example from Nahal Mishmar (No. 61-147) in both form and composition (Key 1980; Namdar et al. 2004). Regardless of any utilitarian advantages the inclusion of nickel and arsenic may have conferred on the metal (see Namdar et al. 2004:74, Table 5.2), examination of the Givat Ha-Oranim metal ‘tools’ reveals that these artifacts were probably never put to use. Namdar et al. (2004:82) make the important observation that while most of the metal artifacts generally fall into the dual industry model, examples like the chisel suggest that the borders between these two categories are less sharply defined than previously thought. Furthermore, this is another example where ‘utilitarian’ artifacts and complex metal castings are buried together, further blurring any distinction made based on functionality. On the whole, the chemical profiles of these artifacts indicate once again that the Chalcolithic metalworkers did not have precise control over the materials they employed. Lead isotope analyses of the metal points to Faynan as the most probable source for the ‘pure’ copper, which conforms with similar findings in studies on artifacts from Cave of the Sandal (Segal et al. 2002), Peqi’in Cave (Segal et al. in press) and Qarantal (Segal 2002). The source of the arsenic and antimony, whether naturally intermixed with copper or not, remains uncertain, though Namdar et al. (2004) suggest Anatolia. The casting of the metal into finished form, however, appears to have occurred locally. Examination of the ceramic cores of the metal artifacts from Givat Ha-Oranim indicates that most were made with Taqiye marls or pale rendzina soils mixed with eocene chalk or sand typical of the Israeli coastline. The remaining cores are made from marl from the Moza Formation, which occurs at the Judean-Samarian anticline. Given that these two forms of clay can both be obtained in only one area—between Tel Gezer and the Judean Hills—Nadmar et al. (2004) suggest that they could have been produced in the Shephelah region of central Israel; again, further evidence in support of a southern Levantine locus of production. Goren (1995) has noted a similar pattern in ceramic cores from Nahal Mishmar, Nahal Ze’elim, Peqi’in, and sites in the northern Negev. Radiocarbon analysis of two charcoal samples from Cave 1185 yields mid-fourth millennium dates, RTA-4506 4690 ± 40 bp (3520–3370 Cal bc) and RTA-4507 4675± 50 bp (3520–3370 Cal bc) for this context. One date obtained from material in Cave 1779 suggests an earlier use of this context, around the beginning of the fourth millennium, RTA-4508 5105 ± 50 bp (3970–3800 Cal bc). Cornets have been found in several loci at the site, and may represent some of the latest occurrences of this type into the fourth millennium.

Caves of the Judean Desert The arid region of the Judean Desert lies between the Central Highlands and the Central Jordan Valley. The high cliffs of the region are dotted with caves frequently located in steep gorges and on precipitous slopes that are not easily accessible and are not in proximity to any immediate source of water (Tadmor et al. 1995). It is, therefore, both in spite of and because of their remoteness that for millennia people have used the caves of the Judean Desert for a variety of purposes. A number of these caves seem to have been oft visited, if not inhabited year round, and with some, such as the Nahal Mishmar cave, it is the difficulty in reaching the cave that made it the perfect location for hiding a massive hoard of treasure. The French researchers Neuville and Mallon conducted a survey of the Judean Desert region, identifying a number of caves, two of which, Umm Qatafa and Umm qa’la, they excavated (Neuville and Mallon 1931). More recently, the archaeological finds from these two sites have been re-analyzed by Perrot (1992). Aharoni also carried out an important survey in the area in 1961.

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Nahal Mishmar. It was an expedition led by Bar Adon (1980) that yielded one of the most spectacular archaeological finds, not only in the Judean Desert, but in the ancient Near East overall, the Nahal Mishmar Hoard. Owing to a variety of factors—the aridity of the environment around the Nahal Mishmar area, the shelter of the cave, and its remote location in a cliff face—the archaeological context has remained largely intact. Popularly known as ‘the Cave of the Treasure’, Nahal Mishmar is best known as the site of a great hoard containing a cache of over 400 copper goods. And while Nahal Mishmar is widely regarded as a hoard site, it cannot be ruled out that the cave also functioned as a tomb, an intriguing possibility that we will explore below. Furthermore, irrespective of whether the Nahal Mishmar cave was actually used as a tomb or not, there is no better evidence from the southern Levantine Chalcolithic for the concentration of great wealth and prestige than this fabulous cache of copper, ivory and other prestige goods. The dating of the cave is not entirely clear. The ceramic assemblage from Nahal Mishmar generally indicates a late date for the site. The pottery is similar to that of the Beer Sheva sites, and displays elements that presage the early EB I pottery such as the increased use of chaff temper. The pottery also represents a number of relatively widespread petrographic groups, indicating that some of the pottery was produced outside of the immediate area and brought to the site (Goren 1989). It should be noted that one jar from Nahal Mishmar was burnt on both the inside and out (Bar Adon 1980:137, No. 2; Garfinkel 1999b; see also below), showing possible use at the site. Due to the excellent state of preservation in the cave, the (uncarbonized) remains of plants and cereals, basketry, and textiles, as well as wooden artifacts have remained intact. These remains are important for several reasons. For one, they provide vital information about the original context of the hoard, suggesting that other caches may have also been buried in baskets or wrapped in mats; this is also supported by finds from the Cave of the Warrior. Of course, these vegetal materials also present the opportunity for direct dating of the deposit. Three of the four radiocarbon assays obtained during studies in the 1960s gave dates around 3500 bc; the fourth was some 500 years earlier. These dates have always seemed somewhat late for the Chalcolithic but have widely been considered reasonable, perhaps because the level of craftsmanship demonstrated in the hoard seems like it would represent the epitome of metal technology at the time. In addition, attempts by several scholars to explain how the hoard came to rest in this remote cave on a high cliff in the desert often hinged on the fact of the hoard’s burial at the very end of the period, and thus fitting with theories about some great crisis at the point of society’s collapse. Re-examination of the reed matt using AMS (accelerator mass spectrometry) suggests that portions of it may date to as early as ca. 4350 bc (Aardsma 2001). According to Aardsma (2001), one explanation for this disparity is that the mat too had some ritual significance (perhaps coming from the Ein Gedi temple) and was kept for a considerable time having been repeatedly repaired; this would explain why the mat has yielded dates spanning several centuries. In terms of understanding the development of copper technology within the region, the early date raises some interesting questions. Were this, for instance, the date for the copper objects found with the mat, it would be an extremely early date for any copper in the region, let alone such a developed stage of craftsmanship. This problem concerning these dates awaits further analysis and must remain unresolved for now. Human remains have been found in three of the cave’s chambers, though these are rarely mentioned since it is not clear that these burials were associated with the copper hoard. The lack of discussion concerning the burials may stem from the fact that the excavator did not initially comment specifically on the relation between the human remains and the hoard, and this is understandable considering there was as yet no precedent in the region for wealthy cave tombs. Cave 1, where the copper hoard was found, contained five burials including two children, one woman, and two men, while Cave 2 had six burials including four children, one woman, and one man. Ten burials were found in Cave 3 including one child, four women, and five men; one male had a jar placed next to the head, a common practice during the Chalcolithic. According to the excavator



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(Bar Adon 1980), all three caves were related, and the distribution of individuals in each group suggests the burials represent extended families. Again, this is similar to the patterns observed at other cave tombs where a group and not an individual was the focus of the burial. Ilan (1994) has argued that these human remains are central to the cave’s function as a tomb, and in light of more recent discoveries concerning other cave tombs, this may well be the case. This and other arguments concerning the function of the cave will be discussed below.

Figure 4.3 Standard made from a complex metal found at Nahal Mishmar (No. 21), where it was included as part of the large burial hoard; the form incorporates the likeness of a human face, drawing by J. Golden adapted from Bar Adon (1980), Moorey (1988); height 13.2 cm, diameter 1.9 cm, weight 268 gr.

Of course, the Nahal Mishmar cave is renowned for the phenomenal hoard of copper goods it contained, and hence the name, Cave of the Treasure. The total number of copper artifacts equals 416, almost all of which are complex metal castings. Over two hundred of these items are maceheads coming in a variety of forms including globular, piriform and disc-shaped. After the maceheads, the second largest category is the standards (Bar Adon 1980), also referred to as

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scepters or maces (Tadmor et al. 1995). While the hoard confirms that there are some general forms that recur, it also contains several unique and elaborate forms of maceheads and scepters. One example of the latter (Fig. 4.3) bears a human face similar in style to faces seen on ossuaries (see Fig. 4.2) and basalt pillar figurines (see Fig. 8.1). Other examples include such exquisite castings as the Ibex Standard (Fig. 4.4), the Vulture Standard, and a macehead flanked by two ibexes (see Fig. 9.1). Several entirely unique artifacts include a copper vessel (see Fig. 8.2), a horn-shaped object (Fig. 8.4), and a set of so-called crowns (Fig. 4.5) (for the complete catalogue of finds, see Bar Adon 1980; for a good summary of the objects and their chemical analysis as well as notes on terminology see Tadmor et al. 1995; for a good interpretive discussion of the Nahal Mishmar Hoard see Moorey 1988). Also found as part of the hoard was a group of 19 tools, or tool-shaped objects made from ‘pure’ copper. In addition to the metal artifacts, which are discussed in greater depth below, we must also note a group of stone maceheads, six of hematite and one of limestone, and six miscellaneous ivory artifacts, which must also be regarded as luxury goods.

Figure 4.4 Ibex Standard (No. 17) from Nahal Mishmar, drawing by J. Golden adapted from Bar Adon (1980); height 27.5 cm, diameter 2.3 cm, weight 1,014 gr.



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Figure 4.5 ‘Crown’ from Nahal Mishmar (No.10), drawing by J. Golden, adapted from Bar Adon (1980); height 9 cm, diameter 17.3 cm, weight 1,285 gr.

The large oval, stone-built enclosure located on the plateau above the Nahal Mishmar cave has often been linked with the hoard site (Bar Adon 1980; Moorey 1989; Bourke 2002a). Bar Adon (1980) suggests that this may have been an open-air cultic structure, and Ilan (1994) compares this with similar stone constructions observed in the southern Negev and Sinai by Avner (1990). The Nahal Mishmar site has also been linked with a shrine at Ein Gedi (Ussishkin 1971, 1980), a problem recently re-examined by Yuval Goren (see Chapter 5). The Cave of the Sandal, Ketef Jericho. The so-called Cave of the Sandal in the Judean Desert was investigated in 1993 by Eshel and Zissu (1998, 2002) as part of ‘Operation Scroll’, a research project aimed investigating caves used during the Bar Kokhba period. The burial from Cave of the Sandal dates to the early fourth millennium bc (RT-2178 5126 ± 60 bp (3978–3804 Cal bc 1-sigma) (Segal and Carmi 1996). Several metal objects were found in the cave including two copper tools (a flat axe and a chisel) and a disc-shaped macehead. The metal used for all three items can be classified as ‘pure’ copper; the axe and chisel contain less than 0.1% of impurities. The research team examining this material (Segal et al. 2002) has made the important observation that some of the so-called prestige items were actually made of unalloyed copper, raising questions about the definition of these categories. Examination of the chisel and axe reveal that were made in an open mold. The disc-shaped macehead, a solid casting, was probably made using a two-piece mold. After casting, it was hotforged at around 400º c, with the shaft-hole slightly cold-worked. According to lead isotope ratios for the Cave of the Sandal copper, the ore used in the manufacture of the copper most likely came from the Faynan deposits (Segal et al. 2002). The Cave of the Warrior (Cave 13). The Cave of the Warrior is located in the lower part of Wadi elMakkukh, 3.5 km northwest of Jericho. Groups of caves used during the Iron, Hellenistic, early Roman and medieval periods were also discovered in the same survey of cliffs that revealed the

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Chalcolithic Cave 13. The cave is 13.3 m long with a maximum width of 2 m, described as unsuitable for habitation and unlikely to have hosted extended occupation (Schick 1998). The evidence instead suggests that the cave was used as a burial site. Radiocarbon samples from Cave 13 have been dated to the first half of the fourth millennium bc and the mid-fifth millennium bc, thus, a ‘Ghassulian’ (early) Chalcolithic and ‘late Chalcolithic’ have been identified (Jull et al. 1998). The earliest burial (Phase C) was that of a child found with the remains of a mat, discovered beneath the male adult burial (Phase B). One burial from Phase B has been described as a ‘burial bundle’ because of the wrapping sheet with dark bands and ‘warp fringes’ on the end (Schick 1998). The remains of adult male were found wrapped in a cloth, lying on top of a well-preserved plaited reed mat. The use of mats for burials may have been fairly common, but they are greatly under-represented in the archaeological record as a result of poor preservation. In the Near East mats have been found dating back to the Neolithic at sites such as Ali Kosh (Hole et al. 1969) and Abu Hureyra (Moore et al. 2000), also occuring in late prehistoric Egypt at Mostagedda-Nagada 2 (Baumgartel 1960) and Maadi (Rizkana and Seeher 1989). Mats were also found in a burial (Tomb 49) from the Nubian A cemetery, which may be the tomb of a ‘chief ’ (O’ Connor 1993). Matts have also been found in EBIA tombs at Bab edh-Dra’. It is interesting to consider whether the inclusion of reed mats in Chalcolithic tombs reflect their use in houses. Several burial goods were found in the grave including a coiled basket and wooden bowl found on the front portion of the mat, two matching pieces of a wooden bow, and a worked wooden stick. The wooden bowl, hand-made from Tabor oak, is similar to examples from Maadi, having a coating of red ochre on the interior and an exterior still preserved to a luster in spots. Different weaving techniques are displayed on textiles found in the cave, including a sash-like garment made with an intricate counter-weft twining. Several of these artifacts were ‘stained or smeared with red ochre’ (Schick 1998:5). The cave derives its name from the fact that weapons accompanied the young males buried inside the cave. Several of the weapons have strong parallels with Egyptian examples. For instance, two wooden shafts, which probably formed the upper portion of a composite arrow, are similar to examples from Egypt. There was also the so-called ‘Warrior’s bow’, which was doubly convex in design with a setback, much like the form of bow depicted in the Predynastic ‘Hunter’s Palette’. It is uncertain whether these weapons were used for warfare or hunting or both; experiments conducted using replicas of the bow and arrow have demonstrated that it could have functioned effectively for either purpose. Thus, it is not clear whether this was literally the burial of a warrior. There are functional weapons which are just as likely to have been used for hunting as for warfare, no metals or other typical prestige goods such as ivory and basalt appear in the tomb, and thus the tomb could certainly represent the burial of a hunter.

Discussion In the preceding pages, we have examined but a few of the more prominent and wealthy mortuary caves from the Chalcolithic period, but there are many more throughout the countryside (see van den Brink 1998). Other noteworthy examples of burial caves not discussed here include Bene Beraq (Ory 1946); Hadera (Sukenik 1937), and Azor (Perrot 1961). Nonetheless, considering the group of caves discussed above as a whole, it is clear that we must now recognize them as a specific tomb type, with several features common to all: the adoption of natural features for tomb construction and something of a ‘standard burial kit’, typically including ivory, basalt and metal luxury goods. All of these were either natural caves that underwent some form of architectural modification, or artificial caves hewn from the soft stone of the coastal kurkar ridge. In many cases, the



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cave’s natural contours were manipulated through excavation and the construction of low walls in order to create small platforms and terraces. It is possible that these landscaping efforts were meant to symbolically represent the ‘domestication’ of the cave, which was otherwise a feature of the natural environment. It is interesting to note that these artificial ‘caves’ involved many of the same landscaping techniques, such as low retaining walls, also employed in the subterranean architectural works at Shiqmim and the Beer Sheva sites. An interesting parallel for this dynamic between natural and artificial features can be seen in late prehistoric Europe. Bell (1995) has observed that by the Bronze Age there was an increase in the use of natural shrines that occurred just at the time that the landscape was undergoing profound change, and suggests that these early Europeans may have perceived certain vestiges of the ‘wild landscape’ as sacred. In both Britain and Brittany burial mounds and enclosures were constructed as part of the transformation or ‘domestication’ of the landscape during the Neolithic through the Bronze Age. According to Hodder, this phenomenon can be explained in terms of a desire to ‘recreate the idea of monumental intervention in nature and linear grading of space’. Similarly, Barrett (1993:261) has argued that during the Neolithic ‘the construction and use of the ceremonial monumentality was part of the routine of social action which worked upon and transformed the landscape. It was as if these actions re-inscribed upon the landscape its inherently sacred form.’ In some ways, there may have been a similar situation in the southern Levant where the people of the Chalcolithic sought to symbolically assert control over the natural environment just at a time when portions of the landscape were experiencing a process of transformation, or ‘domestication’. For instance, the first forms of simple hydraulic systems were being employed, while the axe and the plow, driven by cattle, were used to cultivate the land. Similarly, caves, a feature of the natural environment, were claimed through architectural modification; it is possible that the cist tombs found elsewhere in the southern Levant such as the cairn tombs of Adaimeh and Bab ed-Dra’, and the stone grave circles of Shiqmim, also represented an attempt to create something like an artificial cave. In addition to the symbolic aspects of these efforts to modify the caves, the archaeologist studying ancient socioeconomic systems must infer from this that the effort involved in ‘constructing’ these cave tombs represents a greater investment of time than that spent on digging simple pit graves. It is possible that even greater energy was expended on the construction of the various tombs found at Adaimeh, Bab ed-Dra’ and Shiqmim. Therefore, it is not only the wealth of burial offerings included in these tombs that sets them apart, but the tomb itself and, moreover, the total expenditure of resources. Clearly this reflects the fact that in Chalcolithic society certain individuals, or rather, certain groups such as kin groups or lineages, had greater access to wealth and/or status than others. We must also consider the location of these caves within the Chalcolithic landscape. While most of the evidence for Chalcolithic settlement comes from sites in the northern Negev and eastern Jordan Valley (Joffe 1993), as well as the Golan (Epstein 1978, 1998), sites such as Peqi’in and Nahal Qanah give an indication that Chalcolithic settlement may have been more widespread than previously thought. This also means that the apparent concentration of Chalcolithic settlement in areas such as the Negev may be partly an artifact of sampling (Bourke 2002a). Furthermore, largely unexplored regions still remain in areas such as the alluvial fan of the Wadi Far’ah and northern Sharon (Zertal n.d.), the eastern Jezreel Valley (Tsori 1958), and the Upper Galilee (Gal et al. 1997). Though more of these tombs may still await discovery, those identified so far seem to be fairly evenly distributed throughout the southern Levant. It is also noteworthy that the grave goods from sites such as Peqi’in suggest that the tombs served as central locations within broader regions and that local people had far-reaching contacts. Based on modern/recent ethnographic analogies, it has been suggested that ‘shamans’ and ‘saints’ may have functioned as the primary religious leaders in Chalcolithic society (Gilead 2002; Joffe

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2003:53), and it is possible that as in recent times the tombs of the latter served as local pilgrimage sites. The remote location of some cave tombs though raises questions about their visibility, for if these tombs were intended as displays of wealth and power, who was there to perceive them if they were completely concealed? The same would also be true of ‘saints’ tombs, which presumably would be well marked. To some extent, elites of the Chalcolithic may have been faced with a quandary similar to that which confronted the Egyptians: how to make sure everyone knows who was rich and powerful while keeping the contents of the tomb safe from theft. The Egyptians ultimately came up with ingenious, though in the long run unsuccessful, ways of protecting the tombs. Yet invariably the tombs were marked by monumental structures that announced their presence and promoted the legend of the individual buried therein. The situation is less clear with the Chalcolithic cave tombs. With most of the Chalcolithic tombs there is no clearly related settlement, though this may likely turn out to be a byproduct of sampling as settlements may lie as yet undiscovered. It is possible that the same is true where the lack of cemeteries associated with the tombs is concerned; but to date, the cave tombs appear to be isolated from more extensive burial complexes, such as the Shiqmim cemetery. Without more information about the relationship between cave tombs and settlements, it is difficult to understand the reasoning behind their location. It would have been more difficult to protect a tomb situated far from any village, though not if it was well concealed. It appears that the selection of remote locations was done at least in part for this reason. Of course, this begs the question of how to explain conspicuous consumption that may have actually been rather inconspicuous. It is possible that the luxury goods placed in the graves were not made specifically for the burial, but had had an earlier life as status symbols displayed in a much more ostentatious manner; upon the owner’s death, they were buried with them. Nonetheless, it is clear that not everyone had access to such privileged treatment in death. Above all, the most convincing evidence that these represent tombs of the elite is the inclusion of expensive burial goods. Among the valuable luxury goods interred with the deceased were items made of basalt, ivory, and of course, metals, including the exotic ‘complex metals’. We know that the materials used to make these goods came from far and wide and that the quality of craftsmanship required significant skill and labor. Based on their rarity, it seems that few members of Chalcolithic society could afford to own such luxury goods. It also appears that at least some of the burial goods played ‘active’ roles in ritual activities performed at the site of the tomb. For example, at Givat HaOranim a set of three complete basalt bowls and three fenestrated stands were discovered, some with traces of burning; the same is true of stands found at Peqi’in. At Peqi’in, the burial assemblage included not only luxury goods, but also a set of domestic wares, which in some cases also show traces of burning. Domestic wares have also been found at Givat HaOranim (Scheftelowitz and Oren 2004), though these could ultimately derive from primary usage contexts. We recall that one jar from Nahal Mishmar was also charred (Bar Adon 1980:137, No. 2; Garfinkel 1998), as was one jar found in the Wadi Murabba’at caves also in the Judean Desert (Benoit et al. 1961, Fig. 2:42; Garfinkel 1999b). The inclusion of domestic wares often leads to speculation about belief in the afterlife, but it cannot be ruled out that this represents some form of feasting that was carried out at the tomb site, perhaps as a consecration at the time of burial or in memorial at some time afterward. Churns too appear in some tombs, which could mean that dairy goods (e.g. cheese, yogurt), important cultural foods by this time, were consumed in a mortuary feasts. One jar from Nahal Mishmar was burnt on both the inside and out (Bar Adon 1980:137, No. 2; Garfinkel 1998), as was a jar found in the Wadi Murabba’at caves (Garfinkel 1998). As noted already, food offerings often played an important part in the rise of chiefdoms (Milner 1998; Claessen 2000), and this may be extended to funerary feasting. As dairy products became an increasingly common part of the diet, the consumption of meat may have seemed more like a luxury (as it has been in recent times in some pastoral populations). At a ritual feast, one would likely consume



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both superior quality dairy goods along with choice cuts of meat. As noted, the inclusion of domestic wares in the caves could also indicate that the caves served as symbolic houses of the dead, but again, traces of burning suggest they were used. All told, this evidence leaves little room for doubt that some of these burial caves were reserved for persons of greater social and/or political standing than most members of society, and that there was at least some form of social hierarchy in effect. It is difficult to determine who the people interred within the tombs were. Gal, Smithline and Shalem (1999) have proposed that those buried in the Peqi’in cave could represent a priestly class. The age/sex distribution for the human remains in several of these collective burials, however, indicates that they may have been utilized by extended families over a long period of time. Referring to the evidence from the Adeimeh and Bab ed-Dra’ cemeteries with their tumuli, cist graves and border walls that seem to break the graves into groups, Bourke (2002a) argues that rival sub-lineages may have been competing for position within a nascent social hierarchy. According to Bourke (2002a:17), ‘the existence of large funerary enclosures would favor a group-oriented funerary culture, most probably regulated by high-status religious elites’. Parallels can again be found outside the region. For instance, a similar pattern has been observed by Milner (1998:160) who explains that in the Mississippian societies ‘prestigious positions [were] determined principally by a person’s affiliation within a particular social group’ and that ‘members of highly ranked kin groups were usually buried together, along with the riches befitting their station in life’. In Nahal Qanah, as at Shiqmim, children were on occasion buried with a disproportionate number of grave goods (Gopher and Tsuk 1996; Levy and Alon 1985), but several scholars (Hanbury-Tenison 1986; Bourke 2001) remain unconvinced that this represents evidence for ascribed status. As noted already, Nagar and Eshed (2001) have pointed out that there were no children under the age of three at Peqi’in, which suggests that whatever status was ascribed to sub-adults was not extended to infants. It is possible that some rite of passage took place at this age, whence children were made members of the tribe; again though, we must keep in mind that infant bones typically do not preserve well. Referring again to the burial mounds of ancient Europe, we may observe an interesting parallel in what the Celtic peoples called Sidhe or ‘fairy mounds’. According to Barrett (1999:261), ‘for the first time, funeral rites used earth-dug graves, thus not only leaving deposits in the ground and fixing the place of burial geographically, but also setting up the possibility of building sequentially upon the initial deposit through the addition of succeeding burials.’ In this way, the tombs could have functioned as tangible geographical points for articulating lineages that might otherwise be disparate. The ethnographic record, of course, is full of examples where lineages are recognized and celebrated through the use of inter-generational, kin-based tombs. Levy (2006) points to a special burial monument within the sanctuary complex at Gilat that was used for multiple individuals. He has argued that the latter site may have been used to promote regional pilgrimage to the site, comparing Gilat to the modern saintly burial pilgrimage site of Netivot discussed by Bilu (2006). Returning to the question of who was buried in these wealthy, high-status cave tombs, Bourke (2002a:23) has proposed that earlier in the Chalcolithic, there may have been ‘ritual’ elites who drew their power from their ability to ‘mediate control of the natural world through religious symbols and rituals’. In time, however, elites with more secular power emerged, drawing their legitimacy from their ability to control agricultural production and surpluses (Bourke 2002a, 2002b). These developments can be directly related to ecological considerations, whereby in an increasingly difficult environment those with the ability to cope, specifically through the maintenance of stores for lean years, could have further enhanced their power (Bourke 2002a:23; Levy 2003). Thus early on, there may have been little difference in terms of overt displays of wealth and status, but at some point this began to change. By the middle of the period, the practice of

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using impressive tombs endowed with sets of expensive prestige goods began, reflecting significant social change. The fact that multiple individuals were buried in these tombs suggests that it was not necessarily powerful individuals, but rather elite lineages, extended families and kin groups that emerged at the top of a nascent social hierarchy. Another important observation is that it appears mortuary rituals were carried out at the tombs, expanding our understanding of the social meaning of these burials. It is likely that ceremonies carried out at the tomb site would have played a part in reconfirming the status of elite lineages by articulating the relationships between surviving kin and deceased ancestors. And thus we see the dynamic meanings attached to the burial goods, not just as vehicles for conveying information about the wealth and status of their owners, a form of badge-like cultural currency a described by Robb (1998), but with a more active role as paraphernalia serving a specific function in ritual practice. In several cases, the fenestrated stands show evidence of usage, and we must consider that the scepters, standards and the ivory figurines also had some role in rituals carried out at the tomb. Finally, we must consider the territorial implications of the tombs. We have already noted that in some of the cave tombs, especially Peqi’in, multiple regional variants appear together. It is not unfathomable that there was conflict between neighboring groups over access to farming and grazing land and that the collective tombs of elite lineages could have been used as markers to assert control over turf and to advance territorial claims. These, of course, are critical issues to which we will return in later chapters.

Notes 1. Though no finds that can be directly dated have been recovered with the burials, the Chalcolithic/EB I dating of the cemetery is based on parallels in style and construction method. 2. Several of the caves were damaged by subsequent roof collapse, and it is often difficult to determine if all of the bones had been originally placed inside the ossuaries (Kaplan 1993).

5

Cornets and Copper—A Metallurgical Perspective on Chalcolithic Chronology

Introduction Despite the fact that archaeologists attribute more than one thousand years to the Chalcolithic period, creating a consistent sub-chronology with internal divisions and sub-phases has not been easy. Joffe and Dessel (1995) have organized a sequence of radiocarbon dates from Chalcolithic sites, dividing these into three phases: Early (ca. 5000–4500 bc), Developed (ca. 4500–3700 bc) and Terminal (ca. 3700–3500 bc) Chalcolithic. While many have accepted the general tripartite division, several important points require clarification. To begin Joffe and Dessel’s (1995) own caveat that some sites may be dated too early has proved prescient; for example, the dating for Ghassul has recently been pushed back (Blackham 2002; see Chap. 2), resulting in what Burton and Levy (2001:1232) have referred to as a ‘high chronology’. On another note, Blackham (2002) has taken issue with parts of Joffe and Dessel’s methodology, arguing that their identification of three clusters is somewhat misleading. He suggests that a better method might be to sum all of the probability distributions and then look for modes in the summed distributions, thereby creating an average distribution for all of the dates. Using this method himself, Blackham suggests—with caution—that there are instead two main modes—ca. 5500–4800 bc and ca. 4700–3800 bc. Examining some 200+ dates from Chalcolithic sites Burton and Levy (2001) conclude that there was no significant gap in the occupation of the southern Levant during the period, but they also argue that when the sigma ranges for these dates are considered, no real clusters are apparent. One point that seems to trouble some researchers is the large block of some 800 years allotted to the so-called Developed Chalcolithic by Joffe and Dessel (1995). For one, if the idea is to study social change over time, to block off such a long period is not necessarily of great use (Burton and Levy 2001), and it seems unlikely that there would be some eight centuries without major change. Several researchers have proposed instead a two-part chronological system (Gilead 1994; Bourke 2002a). Bourke (2002a) points to Joffe and Dessel’s (1995) delineation of a ‘Terminal’ phase as difficult to support, arguing that it should be collapsed with the Late Chalcolithic. According to Bourke (2002a), evidence from Chalcolithic sites in Jordan such as Pella, North Shuna, Abu Hamid, and Ghassul reflect a bipartite system, with an Early Phase and a Late Phase, with the transition occurring about midway through the period. Efforts to sub-divide the Chalcolithic are also complicated by the fact that it is often difficult to correlate evidence from different sites as change occurs at varying rates and will be reflected as such in the material culture. For example, due to recent ceramic studies internal ceramic sequences from important sites such as Gilat (Commenge et al. 2006) and Ghassul (Lovell 2001) are becoming clearer, but matching the two sequences up has proved more difficult. It should also be noted that a recent session held during the ICANE meetings in Madrid focused specifically on questions of Chalcolithic chronology, though results of these discussions have not yet been published.

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Despite the difficulties involved, it is critical that we attempt to gain a greater sense of time during the Chalcolithic, as our aim is ultimately is to understand socioeconomic developments— particularly the rise of metallurgy—within a reliable cultural context and temporal framework. It is now clear that where the metals are concerned there was an earlier phase of the Chalcolithic when metal had not yet appeared, and a late phase when much of the copper found in the region was produced at workshops in the northern Negev. Thus, there is some irony in the fact that though we apply the term Chalcolithic (copper-stone age) to the cultural phase beginning midway through the fifth millennium bc, in truth, the archaeological record does not reflect the appearance of copper until considerably later. This situation actually raises several intriguing problems. Questions about when and where copper first appeared in the southern Levant are one thing, while questions about the local inception of copper production technology are quite another. More important still are questions about how and why metallurgy came to the region and developed into a prominent prestige goods industry, for ultimately our goal is to understand the total context—social, political, economic and religious—in which the arrival of copper occurred and to understand the ways that developments in these different areas impacted one another. Beginning with the question of why copper appears at some sites and not at others, we arrive at two possible scenarios: 1) that this pattern reflects change over time, with copper becoming more common over the course of the period; or 2) that it reflects the irregular diffusion of metallurgical technology throughout Chalcolithic society, perhaps through the deliberate manipulation of its distribution. These scenarios are by no means mutually exclusive and, in truth, it is likely that a third scenario combining elements of both is most accurate. We have already established that there was no copper early in the period and that the Beer Sheva copper boom was a late development in the Chalcolithic, and thus it is immediately apparent that there was a temporal dimension to this, regardless of how gradual or abrupt it may have been. But it is equally apparent that not all members of society would have had equal access to this new technology and new forms of prestige goods. Early-Mid Chalcolithic (‘Pre-metallic’)

Cornets

Ghassul Final Phase (Level 4)

Cream Ware first appears

Late Chalcolithic (Copper Age)

Cream Ware; No Cornets

Wadi Rabahstyle painted wares

No Wadi Rabah-style wares

‘Violin-shaped’ figurines

No Copper

‘Violin-shaped’ figurines

Finished copper goods (imports?), no evidence for production.

Ivory human figurines

‘Pure’ Copper; Complex metal castings; Copper Production

Low ‘fenestrated’ incense burners

‘high-footed’ incense burners

Table 5.1 Some general trends in material culture showing change in the ceramic assemblages, the use of figurines, basalt fenestrated stands and the introduction of copper.

The ‘Pre-metallic’ Chalcolithic Based on the broad trends in material culture observed in the previous chapters, it can be argued that not all of the Chalcolithic sites of the northern Negev were contemporaneous and that some probably preceded the local inception of metallurgy. As no copper finds predate the Chalcolithic,1 and a relative proliferation of evidence for both the use and production of copper ensues, we must obviously accept that it was some time during the Chalcolithic that metals first appeared in the region. In fact, we shall take this notion, of a Chalcolithic evolution of copper technology, as our point of departure for the following discussion.



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In order to understand the introduction of copper into the southern Levant and to study change within the copper industry, we must first understand the temporal framework within which these events occurred. Important new data on the Chalcolithic have become available with renewed excavations at Ghassul (Bourke 1997a, 1997b, 2002a, 2002b; Bourke et al. 1995, 2000), as well as the publication of Gilat (Levy 2006) and Shiqmim (Levy and Rowan, in prep.). Looking at various lines of archaeological evidence, including settlement patterns, broad changes in ceramic assemblages, and radiocarbon dates, in addition to evidence for ore exploitation, copper production and the use of finished metal goods, it is possible to delineate distinct phases of the Chalcolithic (see Table 5.2). In the following discussion we will consider both the circumstances leading up to copper’s initial appearance in the region as well as ensuing changes that may reflect its impact. While efforts to identify the very first copper artifacts or the earliest evidence for production are important, we must broaden our scope in order to examine even more general questions about the cultural context in which socioeconomic changes were taking place. There is one question that stands out in particular: why does copper appear rather frequently at some sites and at others not at all? It will be argued here that the sites without copper are generally earlier than the sites with copper. Thus, while it is clear that access to this new material and technology was restricted to certain segments of society, it also true that in the earlier part of the Chalcolithic no sites had copper, and thus our first step is to acknowledge that there was a phase when metal had not yet appeared in the region; in other words, a ‘Pre-metallic’ Chalcolithic. Isolated copper finds gradually begin to appear midway through the Chalcolithic and by the latest phase of the period there is ample evidence for copper production and use across much of the southern Levant. It may be said, based on both the dating of the Nahal Mishmar hoard2 and the remarkable nature of its contents, that the extensive assemblage represents the culmination of technical and artistic achievement within this particular industry. It is important to bear in mind that metal, as a finished product, and the technological capacity to produce it do not go hand in hand. People could have acquired tools and various goods via trade without possessing the ability to produce those goods themselves. In fact, this may well have been the case with Teleilat Ghassul, one of the most prominent Chalcolithic sites around the middle of the period, where a few copper ‘tools’ were found but no evidence for production. We will now examine more closely the archaeological evidence pertaining to these questions.

Some Broad Trends in the Chalcolithic Ceramic Assemblage Of course, the absence/presence of metal on its own cannot be used to make arguments about Chalcolithic chronology, and as always, the archaeologist must look to what has proved to be the most reliable index for chronology building, the ceramic assemblage. Studies on pottery assemblages have been published for Chalcolithic sites such as Bir es-Safadi (Commenge-Pellerin 1990), Abu Matar (Commenge-Pellerin 1987), Grar (Gilead 1989, 1995), Teleilat Ghassul (Lovell 1999; Blackham 1999), and now Gilat (Commenge et al. in press); ceramics from Shiqmim (Burton in prep) have been studied and published reports are forthcoming. Other recent studies have added to this picture; for example, a re-examination of material from Jericho has revealed Chalcolithic pottery at that site (Garfinkel 1999a), and studies on sites in Jordan including Jawa and Abu Hammid (Dollfus and Kafafi 1993; Helms 1992; Betts 1992, 1991) are important. Though some of these sites (e.g. Ghassul) have a long sequence of occupation, no one site appears to span the entire period, meaning that no single stratified sequence for Chalcolithic pottery exists at present. For our current purposes, however, we may create a patchwork or ‘horizontal’ pottery sequence for the Chalcolithic by stringing together strands from distinct, yet overlapping ceramic assemblages. Sadeh and Gophna (1991:135) have attempted to do this for ceramics from the middle Jordan Valley, explaining their methodology: ‘this great variety of assemblages from sites situated

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in close proximity to one another, which rarely reveal stratigraphic continuity, can be interpreted as representing a chronological sequence, i.e. what may be termed “spatial stratigraphy” ’. In other words, in lieu of a stratigraphic sequence of superimposed levels from a single site, we may formulate a chronology based on a series of overlapping sites with limited internal sequences. A similar method will be employed here for other parts of the southern Levant, in particular the northern Negev. Of course, there are some drawbacks to using this method; for example, there is the danger that regional variations in style will be overlooked. Thus, we will restrict this discussion to broad trends only, particularly those that seem to be more widespread and thus transcend highly localized differences.

Late Neolithic Elements in the Early Chalcolithic Pottery In Chapter 2, we noted the presence of late Neolithic elements in the ceramic assemblages of early Chalcolithic sites such as Ghassul and Gilat. The pottery from these sites has affinities with lateNeolithic-Wadi Rabah pottery (see Table 5.1). There is also the question of whether a distinct early Chalcolithic tradition with Neolithic roots is represented in the Qatifian or if this was a regional variant of the Wadi Rabah style, local to the Besor region. The ceramic assemblage from Gilat suggests that the earliest levels at the site, while securely dated to the Chalcolithic by radiocarbon evidence, also exhibit significant overlap with elements of the Wadi Rabah style (Commenge et al. in press). Features typical of the Wadi Rabah style of decoration, especially the painted geometric forms, also appear in the pottery assemblages at Ghassul (North 1961; Hennessy 1982; Lovell 2001). The initial settlement of both sites, therefore, may have occurred during a Neolithic-Chalcolithic transitional phase. This also indicates that although there were major shifts in settlement patterns at the beginning of the Chalcolithic, there was some demographic continuity within the region as a whole. Other decorative motifs first seen in the Wadi Rabah, such as bands of fingernail impressions, appear at the Beer Sheva sites suggesting that elements from this late Neolithic tradition lingered well on into the Chalcolithic. The ceramic assemblage reflects changes in production techniques as well. During the course of the roughly 1000 years usually ascribed to the Chalcolithic, there were indeed gradual yet substantial changes in ceramic technology. The use of vegetal or chaff temper, a technique typical of Neolithic pottery, is common in the assemblages that are probably earlier: Gilat, Grar, Abu Hof, and the earlier Chalcolithic phase at Ghassul (Levy, Commenge and Kansa 1995; Gilead 1989; Lee 1973; Lovell 1998; Alon 1976). Conversely, in the assemblages of domestic wares from the later Beer Sheva sites, chaff temper was no longer used (Commenge-Pellerin 1987, 1990). If it is generally true that chaff temper was replaced by sand and grit tempers, the Qatifian wares should also be considered early, whether or not they represent an altogether separate tradition or a regional variant of the broader Wadi Rabah horizon (Gopher and Gophna 1993). Thus, we may begin to define an early Chalcolithic ceramic phase, characterized by continuation of certain stylistic elements from the late Neolithic tradition. We must also note that copper does not appear within this early Chalcolithic horizon. Copper artifacts do appear at Ghassul, though not until Level IV, the latest phase at the site (Table 5.2).

Cornets and Copper Another trend observed in the local ceramic assemblages concerns the introduction and eventual disappearance of the cornet vessel (see Chapter 2). The cornet is generally accepted as a typical, if not diagnostic form in ‘the Ghassulian assemblage’ (Ben-Tor 1985), and indeed, cornets are common at the type-site of Teleilat Ghassul. Cornets actually first appear quite early, in the latest levels at Wadi Rabah (Level 2) as well as ‘Ain el-Jarba, exhibiting a certain level of cultural continuity from the late Neolithic into the Chalcolithic. That cornets began early is also suggested by



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the fact that they appear at Ghassul in Stage 3 together with pot forms bearing Neolithic elements (Blackham 1999; fig. 12:15; fig. 13). Cornets remained in use throughout the duration of Ghassul’s occupation (Lovell 2001). Yet, despite its relative abundance at certain sites, the overall number of sites where cornets appear is limited. Most notably, cornets are all but absent from Shiqmim, Abu Matar, and Bir es-Safadi. We have already noted how the presence of cornets is often matched by the absence of copper, and this pattern could reflect different systems of ritual and/or social activity, or alternatively, it represents the fact that copper first came to the region as cornets were going out of style. Site

available C14 dates in Cal bc 1-sigma);

Cu-tools

Nizzanim

5722–5561 (HV-8509) (Gopher and Gophna 1993)

T.Ghassul Middle Phase

5625–5344 (SUA-732); 5602–5213 (SUA-736); 5472–5215 (SUA-734); 5457–5079 (SUA-738/1); 5208–4798 (SUA-739) (Bourke 2001; Burton and Levy 2001)

Gilat Str. III

4774–4499 (OxA-3556); 4688–4404 (OxA-3555); 4669-4500 (Beta-131730); 4456–4042 (RT-860a); 4455–4335 (OxA-4011); 4455-4344 (Beta-131729); 3705–3377 (RT-860b); 3367–3093 (RT-2058)♣ (Burton and Levy 2001)

T. Ghassul ‘Classic Ghassulian’ Late Phase

4780–4498 (SUA-511b); 4672–4357 (SUA-511c); 4458–4247 (SUA-511a); 4455–4248 (RT-390a); 4230–3973 (GrN-15195); 4224–4049 (GrN-15194); 3982–3793 (GrN-15196) (Weinstein 1984; Bourke 1997b)

axe, awl

Shiqmim Early Phase

ca. 4700–4300 bce♠

awl

Shiqmim Main Phase

ca. 4400–4000 bce ∞ (Burton and Levy 2001)

awl, axe,

Shiqmim Final Phase

(RT-1339 and RT-554A; (Levy 1992a; Burton and Levy 2001)

awl, axe

Abu Matar

ca. 4250–3900 bce (Segal and Carmi 1996)

B. Safadi Upper Phase

ca. 4400–3800 bce (Perrot 1984)

Cu-Complex metal castings

Ore Type

copper sulfides; chrysocolla/malachite?

Cu-silicates, (par) atacamite + plancheite

Cu-oxides, cuprite, tile ore, malachite

(Burton and Levy 2001) standard, macehead

Cu-oxides, cuprite, tile ore, malachite

awl, axe

macehead standard

Cu-oxides, cuprite, tile ore malachite

axe

macehead, ingot? Standard, crown (Neve Noy)

Cu-oxides, cuprite, tile ore malachite

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Palmachim

______

______

standard

______

N. Qanah (Chalcolithic)

4357–4114 (RT-861E) 4323–3803 (RT-861C) 4222–3710 (RT-861A) 4317–4045 (RT-1545) 3971–3789 (RT-1543) (Carmi 1996)

wire

standard, crown? gold

______

Peqi’in

4500–4600 bce (Segal et al. 1998)

_____

standard, macehead

______

N. Mishmar Cave 1

ca. 4500–3300 bce (Bar Adon 1980; Weinstein 1984; Carmi and Segal 1992)

axe, awl

standard, macehead crown, misc.

______

Horvat Beter

4326–3960 (W-245); 4038–3712 (Pta-4312) 4041–3956 (Pta-4312a) (Dothan 1959b; Levy and Alon 1987)

______

standard

______

Cave of the Sandal

3978–3804 (RT-2178) (Eshel and Zissu 1998, 2000; Segal and Carmi 1996)

axe, chisel

‘pure’ copper discshaped macehead

Table 5.2 Summary of ceramic, archaeometallurgical and radiocarbon evidence (calibrated 1-Sigma). ♠ One very early and seemingly incongruous date has been omitted ∞ One very late and seemingly incongruous date has been omitted ♣ Two very late dates from Gilat are presented

Gilat is of particular interest because of its role as a regional center. We have already discussed the general material culture of this village, and will focus here on a few very specific points. In addition to the wealth of cooking and storage vessels found at Gilat, a number of specialized forms such as large churns and the so-called torpedo vessel were also present. According to petrographic studies (Goren 1991), it appears that certain ceramics were imported into Gilat, as were numerous ground stone artifacts (Rowan 1998; Alon and Levy 1980). Recent studies indicate that goods such as olive oil were brought into the site, perhaps inside the torpedo jars (Burton and Levy 2001). We have also noted that violin-shaped figurines appear at both Grar and Gilat, as do ceramic statuettes from Gilat. But despite the rich and varied material culture from these sites, not one example of copper has been found at either site. The same pattern can be observed at a number of sites where cornets appear in the absence of copper. For instance, cornets appear at two cave sites in the Judean Desert—Umm Qatafa and Umm Qal’a (Neuville and Mallon 1931; Perrot 1992). At Umm Qa’la no copper was found, while one ring said to be made of bronze comes from Umm Qatafa (Neuville and Mallon 1931:32); it is likely, however, that this object is either copper or, if it is bronze, that it was intrusive. Cornets have also been found at Horvat Hor (Govrin 1987), a small village just over 10 km northeast of Beer Sheva, Qatif Site Y-2 in the vicinity of the Qatifian type-site (Y-3) (Gilead 1989), Gezer (Macallister 1912; Amiran 1955), Tel Fara—Eneolithic Moyen, Megiddo XVIII-XX (Engberg and Shipton 1934), Afula, Lod, Rosh Ha’ayin, Zeita, and Neve Ur (Gilead 1989). Invariably, these sites have evidence for neither copper artifacts nor copper production. The absence of copper has also been noted at several Jordanian sites including Abu Hamid (Dollfus and Kafafi 1989), Pella (Bourke et al. 1999b) and Tel es-Shuna (Rehren et al. 1997).



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The situation at Ghassul is somewhat more complicated. Cornets are relatively common in the ceramic assemblage, as are certain features that link it with the Wadi Rabah tradition. At the same time, a small group of copper artifacts has been discovered at Ghassul, including chisels, three axes, and three awls not previously published (examined by the author). There were also two fragments of thin copper sheet in the Ghassul assemblage, indicating that the technique of achieving desired forms by folding and hammering might have been practiced at the site. One of the awls has a visible seam that could have been produced by employing such a technique. It is possible that the copper sheet may represent evidence for metal production, but it could have been imported as ‘raw’ metal. The working of metal, even when reheating techniques are used, is distinct from true metallurgy, which involves the smelting of ores and casting with crucibles. Several very small amorphous lumps of copper (less than 10 g) have been discovered, though this material has not been analyzed, and one small fragment of ore (malachite?) was found at Ghassul. Yet two of the most important artifacts—crucibles and furnaces—that one would expect to find at a production site did not appear, nor is there any material that can be positively identified as slag. It therefore seems unlikely that any major smelting operations were carried out at Ghassul, though it is possible that the amorphous lumps of copper derive from melting and/or refining of metal brought into the site. It is also critical to note that all of the copper from the site was discovered in the latest levels of occupation; in other words, copper does not appear in the earliest phases at Ghassul. Bourke (2002) has observed the dearth of copper at Ghassul, and suggests that this pattern is surprising. At the time, copper routes probably passed from Faynan through the Wadi Arabah, south into the Dead Sea basin and onward to the Negev (Phillip and Rehren 1996), generally bypassing Ghassul. Thus, it would have been difficult for this major center to assert control over the new channels through which copper was moving. As suggested earlier, it may have actually been the lure of the copper industry emerging to the south and west that ultimately contributed to the downfall of Ghassul. But either way, the lack of copper at Ghassul is not surprising if it were the case that much of the time during which it was occupied preceded the local advent of copper. The distribution of finds related to the copper industry itself varies and may also reflect change over time. It was noted earlier that the three distinct categories of artifacts—‘utilitarian’ copper goods, complex metal castings, and evidence for production—usually appear in conjunction with one another, except in some few instances. For example, at Abu Matar, Bir es-Safadi, and Shiqmim all three forms of evidence occur, while at the ‘cornet sites’ such as Gilat and Grar, none of these three appear. As is often the case, it is the exception to the rule that is most interesting and informative, and again it is Ghassul that stands out. We have noted already that a few copper tools have been found at the site, yet the general lack of evidence for production leaves open the possibility that the finished goods were imports. Hauptmann (personal communication) has recently examined a copper axe from Ghassul, and found that levels of nickel in the axe are higher than that in the local ores, indicating a foreign origin for the metal. Therefore, the axe was either imported to Ghassul as a finished product or that the material used to make it was brought in as ‘raw’ metal (e.g. an ingot). Not only is evidence for production lacking, but complex metal castings are absent as well. If it is true that the complex metal castings come later than the ‘utilitarian’ goods, a point discussed below, it could also be the case that Ghassul was among the first villages in the region to have any form of copper. According to this scenario, the people of Ghassul imported finished copper goods and thus had access to the actual product before possessing the technology to manufacture it themselves. Bourke (2002) has offered several possible explanations for the lack of complex metals at the site, one being that the people of Ghassul subscribed to cult practices and/or participated in a luxury goods networks that differed from those of other settlements, and hence, did not

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covet copper to the same extent. On the other hand, he proposes a possible chronological explanation, pointing out that most of the complex metals derive from late phases of the Beer Sheva culture complex and that the most recent dates from Ghassul suggest the settlement may have been in decline or abandoned altogether by the later phases of Beer Sheva (Bourke 2002a, 2002b, 1997a; Joffe and Dessel 1995). At Mezer as well, several copper tools including a cache of five adzes (Dothan 1957) have been found; yet, like Ghassul, no evidence for production appears at the site. This same pattern is seen at Masos in the northern Negev where copper tools have been found in subterranean rooms.3 Unfortunately, we cannot be certain where these sites fall chronologically, especially the latter two. It may be suggested that Teleilat Ghassul and possibly several of these other sites represent the first villages in the southern Levant to possess copper. Based on the evidence from these sites, it would appear that the local metal industry was not fully operational until the last quarter of the fourth millennium bc, after ca. 4300 bc. Around this time, these sites were occupied by people who had copper, at least a few of them, and who may well have imported finished copper goods, for it is also evident that they did not yet possess the technology to produce it themselves.

The Copper Horizon The arrival of the true ‘copper age’ is heralded by the appearance of the three distinct bodies of evidence noted above: 1) ‘utilitarian’ goods made of ‘pure’ copper (e.g. axes and chisels); 2) complex metal castings (e.g. maceheads and standards); and, above all, 3) archaeometallurgical remains (e.g. slag and crucibles) representing local production. Of course, we must be careful not to automatically exclude sites that may have been occupied during this time, but simply did not possess copper, especially when copper could still turn up at any site. As noted above, there are also problematic sites such as Gilat where ore appears, but as a material used for a variety of coldworking processes, in other words ‘greenstones’ for figurines, beads and various decorative items, but not for smelting copper. However, the reality of a temporal dimension to copper’s arrival in the region is supported by other broad trends in material culture. By the time the Beer Sheva sites were occupied, cornets had all but disappeared from local ceramic assemblages. At Bir es Safadi, where there is ample evidence for both the production and use of copper, cornet fragments equal 0.03% of total sherds at the site. At Abu Matar copper was being produced by some of the earliest occupants of the site, and here as well cornets are virtually absent, constituting less than 0.5% of the ceramic assemblage (CommengePellerin 1987). At both of these sites, extensive excavations have been carried out, yielding material remains of great volume and variety, making it unlikely that this pattern is somehow a sampling error. This same pattern has been observed at most of the non-settlement sites. For instance, at cave sites such as Nahal Qanah, Palmachim, and Nahal Mishmar, where ‘utilitarian’ and complex metal castings occur together, no cornets have been found. Givat Ha-Oranim is one exception, where complex metal castings and cornets have both been found; as would generally be expected, there was no evidence for production at the tombs, save the amorphous lump from Nahal Qanah. The situation at Shiqmim with regard to the appearance of metal is interesting. To begin, there is almost no evidence for metal or metallurgy from the Early Phase at Shiqmim (Str. IV-III) (Golden et al. n.d). Copper does not appear at all in Str. IV, and in Str. III the only such finds were a copper awl from Tunnel 8 (L. 3354) and one piece of slag from fill (L. 3335), both in Area J (it is important to note that investigation of these earlier, deeper levels was more limited than the area excavated for later phases). Otherwise, all evidence for copper production and finished copper goods comes from the Main and Late Phases (Str. I-II). As the earliest example of copper from the



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site was a finished product, an awl, and there was but a single piece of slag, it is possible that the people who founded Shiqmim came with finished copper goods, but had not yet developed the technology. Following virtually the same pattern as the Beer Sheva sites, seven excavation seasons at Shiqmim have produced a total of four cornet fragments. The distribution of the cornet was probably a geographic and cultural phenomenon (Gilead 1989). Gopher and Tsuk (1991:xxi) comment briefly on this issue in their discussion of the finds from the Nahal Qanah cave, arguing, the vessels from the Nahal Qanah cave are more typical of the Beersheva culture than of the Ghassulian. Thus, for example, cornets are absent from the Nahal Qanah assemblage but common in the Ghassulian assemblage. On the other hand, Cream Ware, which appears at Nahal Qanah and in Beersheva-type assemblages, is absent in the Ghassulian assemblage.

Thus, Gopher and Tsuk (1991) suggest that differences between the ceramic assemblages from Ghassul and Beer Sheva can be attributed to cultural variation between distinct groups. Clearly, Nahal Qanah, a wealthy burial tomb, contained a specialized corpus of pottery (e.g. the fine Cream Ware should be regarded as luxury ware), making comparison to the domestic assemblages difficult. As discussed in Chapter 1, comparing Ghassulian and Beer Sheva altogether is somewhat problematic as both the temporal and spatial parameters of these sub-cultures, and their relation to each other, need to be more clearly defined. The term ‘Ghassulian’ as originally used referred to the latest of four occupations phases at the site of Teleilat Ghassul, and was thought to have been rather short-lived (Mallon, Koeppel and Neuville 1934). North’s (1961) research at the site initially seemed to confirm the notion that Ghassul, though spectacular, was a short-lived phenomenon (Bourke 1997b). Over the years, the Ghassulian has frequently been equated or at least lumped together with the Beer Sheva tradition, to the point that the hyphenated term combing the two has gained currency. This may actually be a result of the fact that when the southern Levantine chronologies were first being developed (Wright 1937; Amiran 1969), these sites were the two most well known (Lovell 2001). Yet, a number of scholars working in Chalcolithic archaeology have pointed to significant differences between these cultural entities. Perrot (1968), for example, tends to see the two as distinct subcultures, while de Vaux (1966) has argued that they represent two different groups migrating into the region in separate waves. While recent evidence tends not to favor this latter hypothesis, it is significant that de Vaux (1966) found them so different as to propose different origins for the Ghassulian and Beer Sheva cultures altogether. While Gopher and Tsuk (1991) recognized these as two distinct groups, they do not specify whether this distinction should be defined in terms of chronology or geography (i.e. culture area). In other words, there are several possible explanations: either these represent separate sub-cultures that were contemporaneous but with cultural filters that may have prevented the flow of certain goods and ideas, or they simply represent an earlier and a later phase of occupation within the region as a whole. Lovell (2001:50) has argued that there are few typological links between the Negev sites and Ghassul, and points to evidence from the latter that gives the impression that Ghassul was a somewhat ‘insular community’, with the implication that these represent distinct, yet contemporary sub-cultures. According to Bourke (2001:257) the ‘late Chalcolithic’ at Ghassul was ‘probably contemporary with the Terminal Chalcolithic phase of the Beersheban culture’, which also suggests contemporary sub-cultures. In either event, the relationship between these two entities is rather complex (Levy 1993c; Lovell 2001). Lovell (2001), for example, has pointed out that the material assemblages from Ghassul are specific and unique enough to warrant caution when applying the Ghassulian terminology more broadly within the southern Levant. In truth, the problems associated with the use of this terminology often become even more acute when applied outside of their immediate area, and should thus be avoided whenever possible.

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Radiocarbon Chronology Radiocarbon dates, which are obviously vital to any discussion of chronology, are unfortunately not currently available for all of the relevant sites. Radiocarbon evidence has been summarized by Levy (1992a), Gilead (1993; 1988), Joffe and Dessel (1995), and, most recently, Burton and Levy (2001) (see Table 5.2). Based on the stratigraphic sequence observed during the excavation of Abu Matar and Bir es-Safadi, Perrot (1955, 1986, 1987, 1990) proposed that the earliest (‘pioneer’) phase was characterized by subterranean architecture followed by a period of rebuilding, sometimes in the form of semi-subterranean structures, and finally, in full-blown surface occupation. A similar sequence has been proposed for the occupation of Shiqmim based on the direct comparison of radiocarbon and stratigraphic data (Levy 1992a). Other researchers (Gilead 1993; Gilead, Rosen and Fabian 1991), however, have rejected this model. They point out that the more recent salvage operations at Abu Matar have revealed a stratigraphic sequence that suggests the subterranean-to-surface architectural model cannot be consistently applied to the entire site; more generally, they argue this model is oversimplified. They also point out that at Horvat Beter (Khirbet et-Bitar) this sequence is reversed, as the settlement was first established on the surface. We are reminded that these data, however, should be regarded as representing a possible range for each date (i.e. the I-sigma range for the standard error of these C14 dates overlap), and not the type of fixed point in time needed to create a precise micro-chronology (Gilead 1993). It is not uncommon that radiocarbon data and ceramic evidence seem to contradict each other. For instance, there are several radiocarbon dates from Gilat that run quite late, despite all of the cultural material that points to an earlier occupation. At Shiqmim radiocarbon dates span over 1000 years from the fifth to the fourth millennium bc, yet there is little evidence for change in the ceramic assemblage over the course of the site’s occupation. In both cases, we must attempt to determine which body of data better reflects reality. In some cases, the radiocarbon dates can be reconciled with the trends in material culture if we consider the I-sigma ranges. In terms of copper, the pivotal point in time is ca. 4300 bc (see Tables 5.1 and 5.2), which serves as a threshold before which no copper was present in the area and after which metallurgical industries began to blossom in the Negev. We may also attempt to outline a rough chronology for different sub-phases of the Chalcolithic. The earliest phase, referred to hereon as the pre-metallic Chalcolithic, predates the beginning of the fourth millennium bc. Radiocarbon dates from Ghassul suggest that it may have been the earliest village whose inhabitants had copper. One date, published by Lee (1973), places Stratum III at 4460–4240 bc (cal.), while dates presented by Weinstein (1984) place Stratum III earlier at 5450–4250 bc. As noted above, the stratigraphy of Ghassul has been altered somewhat by tectonic activity, which should also be taken into account. Radiocarbon dates for Gilat are also early, generally falling between 4500 and 4000 bc (cal.) (Alon and Levy 1989; Levy 1992a).

A Sequence for Ore Use Another area where we may observe change is in the shifting patterns of ore use. Examining evidence from Neolithic and Chalcolithic sites, it is possible to discern a general shift in the types of ores exploited over time, a trend which clearly corresponds to the arrival of smelting technology. We must keep in mind two things: the sample of ore from the earliest sites is relatively small, and that the choices available to the ancient miners were probably somewhat limited. Nevertheless, there appears to be a consistent pattern for the exploitation of ores with a shift occurring sometime during the middle phase of the Chalcolithic, and again by the end of the late phase. The earliest use of copper ore in the southern Levant during the Neolithic was restricted to their exploitation as ‘greenstones’, a term used to denote the fact that these ores, which have been found at several 7th-6th millennium sites in the southern Levant (Garfinkel 1987), were treated



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as semi-precious stones used for cold working only. For example, greenstones were used to make carved and ground goods, most often beads and pendants such as those found at PPN Jericho and Beidha (Hauptmann et al. 1992; Wheeler 1983; Mellaart 1975). The greenstones were also ground for cosmetic use, for example, the powdered dioptase for the eyes of a plaster figurine from Ain Ghazal (Tubb 1985) and green pigment on the Nahal Hemar mask (Hauptmann 1997; Bar-Yosef and Alon 1988). Evidence for the production of such goods comes in the way of hunks of raw ore as well as tools for bead production, such as drills, found at a number of Neolithic sites (Garfinkel 1987). The greenstones comprise a range of ore types, though predominantly copper silicates, most of which were available in the Faynan region. Ores considered greenstones are typically quite different in terms of texture and composition from the ores used for smelting later in the period, and, generally speaking, are low in copper content (see Chapter 7). Hauptmann (1989) has studied samples of this material from Ain Ghazal, Jericho and Beidha, concluding that these are often copper silicate-type ores, such as chrysocolla, which are rather low in copper content. Other Neolithic sites where these ores occur include Wadi Fidan 6 (Raikes 1980), Tell Faynan (Najjar et al. 1990), and Nizzanim (Yeivin and Olami 1979). In each case, chunks of unprocessed ore have been found together with pottery and lithics but without any evidence for smelting. At Fidan 6, the discovery of numerous drills also suggests that ores were used for the production of beads (Raikes 1980; Hauptmann and Weisgerber 1990). While these sites are generally considered to be late Neolithic in date (Yeivin and Olami 1979; Raikes 1980), the use of greenstones also continued into the succeeding Chalcolithic period. Two ore samples from Gilat have been analyzed and are clearly different from those commonly found at the later sites, especially in terms of copper content (see Chapter 7). Based on both chemical analyses and visual inspection, the ores from Gilat have been identified as copper silicates such as chrysocolla, plancheite and (par)atacamite; in other words, greenstones. Greenstones, of course, fit into the broader category of semi-precious stones, which are well represented at Gilat in a variety of forms. By the time of the Beer Sheva sites a set of completely different ores came into use. This group is composed of secondary copper minerals, including various natural combinations of cuprite, malachite, and ‘tile ore’, which are often rich in iron and sometimes sulfides, and above all, have an extremely high copper content (see Chapter 7). In fact, the combination of high copper content with iron and sulfur, elements conducive to fluxing, make these excellent ores for smelting. All of these ores could have derived from the Faynan deposits (Hauptmann 1989; Hauptmann et al. 1994; Chapters 8 and 9), though some of the green malachite nodules could also have come from Timna. This shift in ore use observed at the settlements can also be detected at the mines. There are two main mineralizations at Faynan: 1) the dolomite-limestone-shale (DLS) unit, and 2) the massive brown sandstone (MBS) unit. While the copper-rich ‘smelting ores’ come from the MBS, the greenstone ores derive from the DLS. The evidence for human activity in the vicinity of the mines also confirms this pattern: evidence found in association with DLS unit has been dated to the Neolithic based on pottery, lithics, stone vessels, and architecture (Raikes 1980; Hauptmann et al. 1994), while evidence for mining in the MBS mineralization is dated to the Chalcolithic by the style of heavy stone hammers as well as the mining technique employed (Weisgerber and Hauptmann 1988). By the Early Bronze Age, mining shifted back to the DLS copper-manganese unit, as evidenced by the pottery associated with the mineshafts (Hauptmann and Weisgerber 1990). This pattern of shifting ore use clearly reflects a shift in the goals, strategies, and perception of the materials by those working with them. Initially, ores were treated as precious stones to be ground, cut, and essentially manipulated in much the same way as stones had been for millennia. A major shift in the perception of this material occurred sometime during the middle Chalcolithic,

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as demonstrated by the earliest evidence for smelting, the process whereby stone was converted into metal. During this process there is a complete transformation of the material’s physical properties and accordingly, a whole new set of techniques for working the material had to be developed. While unprocessed ore can be manipulated in a limited number of ways, malleable metallic copper can be repeatedly deformed though hammering and re-heating, or the form can be drastically altered through melting and casting. We will further explore the importance of this shift, including the question of how greenstones figured in the evolution of metallurgy in Chapter 15. What is most important to note at this juncture is this: change in the pattern of ore usage allows us to document archaeologically a significant cognitive shift in technology and man’s understanding of matter roughly midway through the Chalcolithic. Thus, with the advent of metallurgy the mines began to supply an entirely different market. And while we have a good idea about where the raw material for copper smelting came from, the source of the technology remains at issue. Metallurgy could have been a local development, and it is feasible that the longstanding tradition of cold-working ores as ‘greenstones’ could have produced a familiarity with the material that ultimately led to the discovery of its hidden properties (native copper does not appear in the southern Levant; see Chapter 9). Yet, there are indications that some outside influence played a role in the development of the local industries. For one, the first copper items to appear in the region were quite possibly imports, produced elsewhere before local peoples had the capacity to produce their own. Furthermore, the adoption of metallurgy, once introduced, seems to have occurred rather rapidly, with evidence for both copper production and finished goods appearing in the earliest levels at Beer Sheva. These and other important issues concerning the evolution of the metals industry will be discussed in greater depth below (see Chapter 9).

Settlement Patterns and Ecology Different subsistence strategies were practiced during the Chalcolithic and this period saw the spread of peoples into several previously unoccupied ecological zones of the southern Levant. The two primary forms of subsistence strategies practiced at the time were agriculture and animal husbandry (Grigson 1987), with people making additional choices about what crops to plant and which animals to raise. Agriculture, of course, requires a certain amount of rainfall and/ or the use of some form of hydraulic system. Animal husbandry was focused on the herding of sheep and goats, and to a lesser extent cattle and pigs, depending on the region. In fact, we may point to the 250-300 mm isohyet, which falls today in the northern Negev, as the line delineating the micro-environment(s) where dry-farming and pig husbandry can or cannot be successfully practiced. As we have noted, the southern Levantine landscape is characterized by diverse micro-environments, where neighboring communities may practice rather different subsistence strategies (Grigson 1987; Hesse 1990); similar patterns have been observed elsewhere in the Middle East (Flannery 1970). One very broad trend in subsistence strategies of the Chalcolithic is that some settlements relied fairly heavily on pig consumption while others not at all (Josien 1955; Ducos 1971; Grigson 1987; Gilead 1989; Kolska Horwitz 1990; Levy et al. 1991a; Hesse 1990; Table 6.1 and Figure 6.1). Pigs generally require considerably more water for their survival than do sheep and goats, thus it is to be expected that pigs could not thrive in some of the drier areas where sheep and goat did. We may therefore hypothesize that those sites with faunal assemblages completely lacking pig bones were located in areas that were drier at the time. Grigson (1987) explains that the threshold for pig husbandry most likely corresponds to the ancient 300 mm isohyet, the precipitation line that effectively divides these sub-regions of the Negev (Hesse 1990). The distribution of pig bones throughout the northern Negev indeed mirrors modern rainfall patterns (Levy et al. 1991a amd 1991b). At sites which receive less than 200 mm of rainfall, namely Shiqmim, Abu Matar,



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Bir es-Safadi, and Horvat Beter, pig bones are absent, while at sites in the 250+ mm rainfall zone along the boundary of the northern Negev, pigs make up a significant part of the faunal assemblage: nearly 18% at Gilat, 22% at Grar and over one third (36%) of the assemblage at Wadi Gaza D (see Figure 5.1, Table 5.2). Gilead (1989) has pointed out that, as a rule, pigs were present at settlements within the Besor-Grar group, while absent at the Beer Sheva sites, and suggests that this trend should be interpreted as the ‘behavioral, cultural, and socioeconomic differences between the members of these two clusters’ (Gilead 1989:391). Levy et al. (1991b) and Gilead (1989) both concede that whatever environmental factors were at work, ecological adaptation is often reinforced by cultural traditions. It is suggested here that time was also a factor in whatever differences there are; in other words, the settlements located in the more arid parts of the Negev further south were occupied somewhat later. Pig bones also form a significant part of the faunal assemblage at Ghassul (Mallon et al. 1934; Koeppel et al. 1940) and similarities between the material culture of Ghassul and the Besor-Grar group, as defined by Gilead (1989), have already been noted. Considering evidence for shifting settlement patterns, it is noteworthy that pig husbandry also requires a more sedentary lifestyle, as these animals cannot range in the same way as sheep, goat, or cattle (Grigson 1987; Hesse 1990). Site

% of pig bones

Rainfall in mm

Shiqmim

10.1

~180

Khirbet et-Bitar

10.1

~200

Bir es-Safadi

10.1

~200

Abu Matar

10.1

~200

Horvat Hor

10.1

~200

Grar

16.1

~250

Gilat

17.9

~250

Munhata

26.1

~250

Wadi Gaza D

36.1

~250

Tel Aviv, Jabotinsky St.

11.1

~500

Table 5.3 Percentage of pig bones in the faunal assemblages of Chalcolithic sites in relation to rainfall.

Trying to put this into a chronological framework, we must note that most of the settlements where pigs comprise a portion of the regular diet are thought to be earlier for other reasons. For one, evidence for copper technology is notably missing from these sites, and only at Ghassul have finished goods, a handful of tools, been discovered. In this regard—having both finished copper goods and pig bones—Ghassul again represents an exception. Thus, by the middle of the Chalcolithic, when people first began using copper, they may have also begun to inhabit the more arid areas of the south that happened also to be inhospitable to pigs. We have already noted that the boom in Chalcolithic copper production occurred almost exclusively in the Beer Sheva region, later in the period. By the middle of the Chalcolithic the climate had become slightly wetter; perhaps not wet enough to raise pigs as far south as Beer Sheva, but such that people could subsist in this area by raising sheep and goats and growing wheat and barley. A slight shift in climate would have allowed people to move into environments that had previously been more challenging. Based on the extant paleoclimatic evidence, Cohen (1986) has argued that sometime during the Chalcolithic humans migrated into the Negev and Sinai from the north. Bir es-Safadi, Abu Matar, and Horvat Beter represent the southern-most extension of Chalcolithic settlement, and are almost certainly later than the more northern sites. Shiqmim too is further south and may have peaked in size during the latter portion of the Chalcolithic.

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Tel Aviv W.Gaza D Munhata Gilat Grar

Series 1

Horvat Hor Abu Matar Safadi Kh. Bitar Shiqmim 0

10

20

30

40

% of Pig Bones in Faunal Assemblage

Figure 5.1 Bar graph summarizing data shown in Table 5.3; the first five sites are located in areas that receive over 250mm of rainfall per year.

Changing Ritual Practices Certain aspects of Chalcolithic material culture may also reflect changes in ritual practices. ‘Violin-shape’ figurines occur only at sites that also have elements of the earlier Chalcolithic pottery assemblages such as Gilat, Wadi Zeita in the southern Shephela, Titorah in Judea and Abu Hamid east of the Jordan valley (Commenge et al. 2006). Violin-shape figurines do not appear at the Beersheva sites, as they seem to have been displaced by a different style of ivory figurine. The latter are more naturalistic in their rendering of the human form, with an emphasis on facial features and genitalia, which contrasts with the more stylized violin-shape figurines. Thus, a pattern emerges, where violin-shape figurines appear at some sites and ivories at others, rarely appearing together, with one or two exceptions. Peqi’in represents a unique case where ten violin-shape figurines were found together with the head of one ‘Beer Sheva-style’ ivory figurine (Gal et al. 1997). In most cases copper does not appear at the same sites as violin-shape figurines, though again Peqi’in represents an exception where some seven metal objects appear with the latter. There is also the unique case at Shiqmim where a bone figurine seems to incorporate stylistic elements from both traditions: the body of violin-shape with a head more similar to the ivory figurines (see Chapter 3). The ivory figurines more at home in the Beer Sheva region (e.g. Bir es-Safadi) can be tied to copper, while the violin-shape figurines generally cannot (e.g. Gilat). The same is true of other ivory objects, namely the enigmatic ‘perforated tusks’ found at Nahal Mishmar, Nahal Qanah, Bir es-Safadi and Shiqmim; all of these changes in artistic styles likely represent the adoption of new practices. Based on the context of the finds and the exotic nature of the materials used in many cases, the figurines have been widely interpreted as items relating to ritual practice, perhaps used as religious paraphernalia. The exceptional cases such as the Shiqmim bone figurine could reflect either a deliberate blending of different styles or a phase of transition, where one form evolved into the other.



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Cornets may also have had some purpose in cultic practices, and as they have been found both in the northern Negev (e.g. Gilat) and in the Dead Sea region, it would seem certain practices were fairly widespread. As we have seen, cornets were common at some sites and all but absent at others, one explanation being that they were popular early on only to disappear from the later Chalcolithic assemblages, a pattern which could reflect an abandonment of rituals involving these vessels. Still other artifact types that may represent ritual paraphernalia demonstrate shifting styles. Differences observed in the style and method of production for the basalt ‘fenestrated incense burners’, or ‘high footed’ vessels also reflect change over time (Rowan 1998). In fact, these two terms—fenestrated and high-footed—should not be used interchangeably, for they represent two distinct forms: earlier in the Chalcolithic these vessels were squatter with stands looking more like a collar pierced by windows (fenestrated), while later they are less like windows and more like long-legged stands (i.e. ‘high footed’) (Rowan, personal communication). It is not clear if this reflects a change in the way the vessels were used (i.e. actually used in some burning ritual) or a natural stylistic evolution over time, but the change in style and form does seem to correspond with other changes occurring roughly midway through the Chalcolithic.

Early Contact with Egypt Egyptian artifacts are extremely rare at Chalcolithic sites (Perrot 1955, 1957; Dothan 1959; Levy 1987, Levy et al. 1991a; Commenge-Pellerin 1987, 1990), yet their presence at all makes it possible to establish synchronisms with the Egyptian chronology. To begin, there are some similarities between ceramics at the early settlement at Maadi in Lower Egypt (ca. 3940–3700 bc) and the late Chalcolithic phase at Shiqmim (Str. I) and Safadi (Str. IV) (Perrot 1984; Commenge-Pellerin 1990). Pottery similar to that from the Beer Sheva sites has also been discovered at Buto in the Delta (Str. Ia) (Faltings 2002; Commenge-Pellerin 1990). Subterranean structures not unlike those found at Beer Sheva and Shiqmim have been excavated at Maadi (Rizkana and Seeher 1989; Levy 1992a:353), though a direct link between the two is still unclear. Gophna (1992b:392) has also noted striking similarities between material from Site H, deriving from a phase that he refers to as ‘post-Ghassulian’, and the Buto-Maadi culture in Lower Egypt. Evidence for even earlier contact between the people of the northern Negev and Egypt has also been discovered along the coast of the northeastern Sinai, at site R-48, west of Yamit, (Oren and Gilead 1981; Oren 1993). Here, pottery similar to that from Gilat, as well as a violin-shaped figurine, was found in association with Egyptian Naqada I red-polished wares (Oren and Gilead 1981:fig. 7:9, 11-12, fig. 9:11 and 14). This, along with Levantine-style ceramics found at site Y2 on the coast near Qatif (Oren 1993) also suggests that travel between the regions went overland along the coastal route. Research at the southern Sinai site of Serabit el-Khadim suggests that people living there exploited local sources of turquoise, a material that is notably absent from the southern Levantine record; presumably most of what was mined went to Egypt (Beit Arieh 1980). It is not certain if this site preceded the use of copper, but pottery similar to that of the Negev Chalcolithic has been discovered there.

Toward a Chronological Framework Though numerous details need to be worked out with much greater precision, the evidence described above presents a general picture whereby the following reconstruction of the history of settlement in the northern Negev can be tentatively suggested. The earliest Chalcolithic settlements include Besor sites D and M (MacDonald 1932) and the Qatif cluster to the west (Gilead 1990; Goren 1990), constituting what Gilead (1990) has called the ‘Besor phase’, along with Gilat and Abu Hof (Alon and Levy 1989; Commenge et al. 2006). During the third quarter of the fifth millennium, however, Shiqmim emerged as a dominant center, only to be abandoned by the last quarter of the millennium (Levy and Alan 1987, 1992a). It is not certain how long, if at all,

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Shiqmim and the Beer Sheva sites overlapped but it seems likely that they were at least contemporary at some point. The material assemblages from these sites seem to form a coherent group, while differing in significant ways from the material culture of other areas (see above). For example, technology, artistic styles and, perhaps, ritual beliefs were shared by the peoples of Shiqmim and Beer Sheva. Two late dates from Shiqmim (RT-1339 and RT-554A; Levy 1992a:Table 1) indicate that the occupation of these two areas was at least partly contemporary with the Beer Sheva sites, though Gilead (1993) has attempted to discredit these dates. In either event, it appears that the Beer Sheva sites represent the latest phase of the Chalcolithic period, prior to the EBA transition. By the latest phases of the Chalcolithic, at sites such as Wadi Ghazzeh/En Besor Site H, elements of the ensuing Early Bronze Age culture began to appear. Though some Chalcolithic forms such as the ‘V-shape’ and holemouth jar persisted, the cornet had completely disappeared from local material culture.

The Copper Cartel: Manipulating the Spread of Technology Having considered the time frame in which copper was first introduced into the southern Levant, we may now proceed to investigate questions about the diffusion of this technology within the region. And while the lack of copper at several important Chalcolithic sites can best be explained in chronological terms (i.e. too early), we must also take into account that as the technology spread, not all people would have had equal access to metal. In other words, the uneven distribution of copper in the archaeological record might be explained in part as a social phenomenon. The discovery and widespread adoption of any technology can be a slow and uneven process (see Chapter 9), and thus we must keep time in mind. In an attempt to understand the way in which the spread of metallurgy was manipulated during the Chalcolithic, we will look to parallels from the archaeological, historical, and ethnographic record. Our primary focus will be to investigate the extent to which social environment—the various channels, filters, barriers and overall social structures—influenced the circulation of raw materials, finished goods, and technology in Chalcolithic society.

The Restricted Access Model In a landmark paper on Chalcolithic copper production and use, Levy and Shalev (1989) raise important questions about the spread of this technology and argue that the uneven distribution of metal across the Chalcolithic landscape was a social phenomenon. In simplest terms, they assert that certain people had knowledge of this fledgling industry while others did not, and that those people with access to copper deliberately manipulated its flow by restricting distribution to areas within their own sphere of control (Levy and Shalev 1989; Levy 2003). According to Levy et al. (1991b:411), ‘the Beersheva Valley culture had an information monopoly on all the aspects connected with metal production from mining to final casting’. This model, of course, assumes that occupation of at least some of the Negev sites was contemporaneous, and that some were simply out of the copper loop. Since this model was first proposed, critical new evidence has come to light. Thus, we must review all the current data before we can reconsider the model. We will begin by discussing the basic premise of the model itself. Technology, as with any form of knowledge, does not exist in a vacuum, but is firmly embedded within a set of social conditions. Technical efficiency, therefore, is but one consideration in understanding the adoption a certain technology, while social, political, economic and/or ideological factors may also play a vital role. To understand the various factors that contributed to the distribution of copper and the dispersion of metallurgical technology, we must explore a few of these ideas in greater depth.



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A Model for the Diffusion of Technology In order to comprehend ancient technologies within their proper social context, we must understand two key processes: technological development and the dissemination of knowledge. Kuhn’s (1962) seminal work, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, is concerned with paradigmatic shifts within the physical sciences, yet we may adopt some of his key ideas for the purpose of studying technological change in prehistory. In a word, and at the risk of oversimplifying the problem, Kuhn (1962) posits that qualitative change in science occurs only when there are broader paradigmatic shifts that allow for the acceptance of new ideas. Wallace (1972) has adopted some of Kuhn’s ideas and applied them toward developing an anthropological model for the development and spread of cultural ideas and practices, whereby various social factors influence the flow of knowledge between groups. Following the work of Leroi-Gourhan (1943), a school has also developed around the concept of technology as social action, where technology is linked not only to certain technical constraints but also to social behaviors and social structures (Lemonnier 1993; Ehrenreich 1996); these ideas about what has been called technological milieu are examined more closely in Chapter 4. Surveying the historical and ethnographic record, it is possible to find a number of examples where technological knowledge is regarded as a possession, as currency. Most pertinent to this particular discussion are cases from smaller regions where the spread of technology might be deliberately controlled from village to village, as well as within a single community. Based on ethnographic studies of potters in several villages of modern day India, Mahias (1993) argues that while implicit means of control are usually effective, sometimes the deliberate keeping of secrets or the imposition of sanctions is necessary in order to restrict the circulation of tools, skills and technical knowledge. For example, in Gujarat skilled potters go to great lengths to maintain an esoteric hold on the secrets of their crafts, guarding them from all others, even close relations (Mahias 1993:168). Only the sons, who are considered the proper heirs, are privy to this knowledge. This sentiment is expressed in the words of the potter, ‘the person who wants to see it, wants to steal my knowledge’ (in Fischer and Shah 1979:118). According to Mahias (1993:167), limits on the spread of ceramic technology can also be observed at the regional level, between villages. Taking into account the relative socio-economic and religious coherence of Indian society, we must assume that significant breaks in the flow of technology in this area are somehow socially contrived. It is interesting to consider the spread of copper among the Chalcolithic villages of the northern Negev in light of this example. Looking at the Beer Sheva sites and Shiqmim, we see that a common technical knowledge was shared, with all metallurgists using the same raw material (ores) and the same equipment (crucibles and furnaces) to make roughly the same product (metal) and producing a byproduct (slag) that was virtually identical (see Chapter 7). As for the diffusion of this technology beyond the Negev and into other parts of the southern Levant, several important questions remain. For one, both ‘utilitarian’ and luxury copper goods have now been identified at a number of sites throughout the country, but with the exception of these northern Negev sites, the other finds are generally restricted to wealthy cave tombs for which a settlement associated with them has still not been found. This raises questions about where these goods were produced, and who acquired them and brought them to the burial site. There could be an error of sampling involved if, for instance, there are northern and coastal villages closer to the tombs that remain undiscovered. When dealing with the question of technological progress and the effects of social control, we must look separately at different aspects of that technology in order to determine the circumstances under which a certain technique or material becomes an object of choice. For example, certain production techniques that are fairly insignificant in terms of their social implications may remain constant, while others may become marked, or infused with meaning. In other words,

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some techniques are exploited, unconsciously or not, as vehicles for communicating information about society. A number of factors must be considered here, foremost being the capacity of the final product itself to function as a vehicle for the expression of cultural and/or ethnic identity, e.g. a status symbol. Another consideration is the potential impact an invention might have on different groups. For example, certain techniques may serve to communicate information about individual and/or group social status. Lemonnier (1993) discusses examples from the Anga groups of New Guinea to demonstrate how technical strategies are employed by certain groups in order to reinforce the marking of ethnic identities through material culture. Not every feature, however, is actually exploited in this way, and we must seek to understand which specific ones are, and why. The distribution of an artifact can depend on the amount of secondary characteristics it possesses that are associated with cultural identity; in other words, artifacts with little or no cultural marking are more likely to travel freely. For example, Petrequin (1993) maintains that among the Neolithic peoples of the Jura Mountains the diffusion of axe-hammers and corded pottery decorations were delayed longer than other artifacts because they bore stronger cultural marking. He suggests that the axehammer, as a finished good, was systematically kept out of circulation, and the technical knowledge for making the corded beaker was kept confidential. Not only will the spread of technology vary depending on the particular items or processes involved, but at each different stage of the innovation process different factors come into play, and with varying degrees of intensity. Spratt (1982) has proposed a model wherein the innovation process can be divided into standard phases. In the discovery stage (Phase A), there is little barrier to the diffusion of ideas, and new technology may flow relatively freely within a certain community or region. Upon the invention of a useful application (Phase B), however, the concealment and restriction of knowledge begins. This is particularly true of inventions where economic or military advantage is at stake. Renfrew (1984) has suggested that we examine the role played by copper in each area, prior to, during, and after the shift to widespread adoption occurs (1984:413). Drawing from these models, we may isolate two distinct problems that need to be addressed: 1) which artifacts from the Chalcolithic are more or less likely to be marked, or infused with social meaning, and, 2) is it possible to identify different stages in the innovation/ dispersion process? We will address the first question by examining more closely the concept of cultural marking.

Cultural Marking The class of goods that we have been calling complex metal castings represents one of the best examples of a marked good in the Chalcolithic culture. As the term itself suggests, complex metal castings are the product of a substantial investment of resources and effort, probably greater than that for other aspects of Chalcolithic material culture. Moreover, in many respects they represent the most tangible evidence that the social forces necessary to mobilize such resources were in operation; in other words, it demonstrated that there had to be someone who could sponsor their production. We must now examine more closely this term, marked goods, while addressing the problem of how to identify the archaeological correlates for culturally marked goods. Of course, we can never know for certain what these goods actually meant to the people who originally used them, and thus we are left with the task of attempting to gage their value based on the material remains alone. The notion of value itself, however, and how to assess this is somewhat complex. For instance, objects often have a standard or commonly recognized value that is known to all, and this value can be quantified for the purposes of exchange; i.e. how much of another commodity or service is it worth? There are also forms of value that are less palpable and thus more difficult to quantify, for example, there is symbolic value, informational value, personal/sentimental value. Thus, the task that confronts the archaeologists seeking to assess the



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value of an artifact within the context of an ancient society is quite challenging. Attempting to judge whether or not an artifact may represent a marked good, that is to say, having some form of special cultural value, we may employ two different methods. First, we must examine the distribution of these goods at both the site and regional level in order to determine how rare or common they were. Second, we must attempt to appraise the intrinsic value of the artifact itself based on the effort and resources expended in procuring the raw material, as well as the technological investment made in conjunction with its manufacture.

Distribution and context Material goods that are strong cultural markers are more likely to have restricted circulation, even within a small area (Lemonnier 1993). The limited distribution of complex metal castings, most of which are found in tombs, foundation deposits and hoards implies that their distribution was restricted, perhaps by a select group in the society (Levy and Shalev 1989:366). Raw materials or ‘utilitarian’ items with more mundane usage on the other hand may carry less obvious cultural meanings and can be expected to flow more easily throughout society. Interestingly, it seems that all forms of copper—‘utilitarian’ artifacts and complex metal castings—may have been viewed as marked goods. The context in which complex metal castings are found can also tell the archaeologist about their social meaning. As noted by Levy and Shalev (1989), complex metal castings have been discovered in three different kinds of contexts: small hidden caches; caves, which in most cases are probably burials; and foundation deposits. The latter practice, where a macehead and a standard have both been found immediately under and adjacent to the stone foundations of dwellings, seems to be unique to Shiqmim (Levy 1993b; 2003). Several examples of complex metal castings have been found in small, discrete caches. At Neve Noy (Beer Sheva), a small group of copper artifacts were found beneath a floor, bound together by a copper object, perhaps a crown or bracelet. The Neve Noy cache consists of two scepter/standards and two axe heads. The duplication of forms has been observed at several sites, the best example being the 200+ maceheads stashed together at Nahal Mishmar, and this pattern would seem to confirm that these goods were concentrated in the hands of a few. We must also note that the axe heads were included as an integral part of the group, and any social significance ascribed to the scepters should probably be extended to these ‘utilitarian’ goods. A recent re-examination of artifacts from Nahal Mishmar has revealed that several of the artifacts traditionally considered to be ‘utilitarian’ were manufactured using virtually the same techniques as the ceremonial goods, right down to the polishing. In addition, a number of these artifacts appear to have never been used. Thus, it appears that, in at least some cases, ‘utilitarian’ goods such as axes also had some broader meaning associated with them. While the majority of the complex metal castings have been discovered at cave sites, it is not always clear how and why they got there, for in most cases, these are discreet deposits isolated from any known settlement. Attempting to be even more specific, we recall that a number of these caves (e.g. Nahal Qanah, Peqi’in, Palmachim and Nahal Mishmar) contained burials and probably functioned as tombs, thus, making their contents valuable burial goods. We must also bear in mind that complex metal castings have now been discovered at sites throughout the country, so while their distribution was restricted within society (Levy and Shalev 1989), their value could be appreciated throughout the region. Understandably, the discovery of complex metal castings in such obscure and secretive contexts has inspired much speculation about their social meaning. Garfinkel (1994) has argued that this was part of a broader tradition involving the ritual burial of symbolic goods, a tradition that began as early as the Neolithic in the southern Levant. He points out that a number of the copper goods from the Nahal Mishmar hoard are damaged, and suggests that once blemished, they were deemed inferior and not worthy of their ‘worldly’ use, and thereby terminated through burial.

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Ussishkin (1971, 1980) has argued that the artifacts from Nahal Mishmar belonged to a temple at the nearby site of Ein Gedi, where they may have functioned as ritual paraphernalia, but were brought to the Nahal Mishmar cave for concealment at a time of crisis. Moorey (1988) agrees that the hoard may have originally been held in a more public context prior to being placed in the cave, but he and others have questioned the link between Nahal Mishmar and Ein Gedi. Goren (1989) has also challenged the ostensible connection to Ein Gedi arguing—based on petrographic analysis of the ceramics from both sites—that pottery from Ein Gedi constitutes a minority within the hoard. Both Tadmor (1989) and Gates (1992) have argued that the hoard need not have an ideological significance, but that it could have been stored as stock in the cave by itinerant craftsmen. We have noted that the association between the copper hoard and the burials found with it may have been underestimated, and that like several of the other Chalcolithic cave sites, Nahal Mishmar may represent a tomb (Ilan 1994, see also Chapter 4). The cache of artifacts found in the cave includes a range of ceramics and sculpted ivories in addition to the metal goods. The more than 400 metal items found in Cave 1 is an extremely high number and quite different from the elite burials of the Chalcolithic where there was a handful of artifacts, usually representing several different types; this might favor its interpretation as a stash rather than the deliberate interment of offerings. Ilan (1994) also points out that a number of cave sites, including Umm Qatafa and Umm Qa’ala (Neuville and Mallon 1931; Perrot 1992) are located in the Judean Desert in the vicinity of Nahal Mishmar, and suggests that together these may be viewed as a necropolis of sorts, where important people were interred. Recalling some of the other cave sites, such as Nahal Qanah (Gopher and Tsuk 1991), Peqi’in (Gal et al. 1996), and Palmachim (Gophna and Lifshitz 1980), we note that complex metal castings appear in isolated caves, not directly associated with any settlement. Ossuaries, an important component of funerary rituals, have been discovered in all three caves, along with various ritual or otherwise eccentric items such as the violin-shape figurine from Peqi’in, the bird-shape vessels from Palmachim, and a variety of artifacts from Nahal Qanah (see Chapter 4), all of which are candidates for what we are calling socially marked goods. Looking at the complete context in which most of the complex metal castings have been found, therefore, we may infer that these metal goods were imbued with great social value. Their placement in caches and hoards either as foundation deposits or burial offerings defy their open circulation within these societies. The general lack of evidence concerning the actual production of complex metal castings may indicate that they were produced either in secret or outside the region altogether (Bar Adon 1980; Gophna and Lifshitz 1980; Levy and Shalev 1989; Tadmor et al. 1995). It will, in fact, be argued here that complex metal castings were indeed produced somewhere in the southern Levant, though the metal and technology used to make them may have been imported from outside the region.

Intrinsic Value Another way to approach this problem is to consider the intrinsic value of the metals themselves. Based on the distance to the nearest mines and the effort involved in converting ore into metal, it may be argued that all metal had greater intrinsic value. While it is impossible to ascertain the true value ascribed to these goods as they circulated within Chalcolithic society, we can at least attempt to assess their worth relative to other goods. To begin we may ask, what was the cost involved in their production compared with that of other goods? Does the scarcity of the materials as well as the time and effort employed in their manufacture itself bespeak a certain value? That the complex metal castings are absolutely outstanding in terms of their fabric and form may be the one point of consensus among the numerous scholars who have written on Chalcolithic metallurgy (Perrot 1955; Bar Adon 1980; Key 1980; Shalev and Northover 1987; Moorey



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1988; Levy and Shalev 1989; Gates 1992; Tadmor et al. 1995). And while all metal goods should be regarded as the product of substantial investment of time and effort, this is particularly true of the complex metal castings. The difficulty involved in procuring the materials, whether it was imported as ore, or as ‘raw’ metal, i.e. in ingot form, only served to enhance the mystique and aura of power associated with the individuals that possessed them. Examples from other cultures serve to illustrate this point. For instance, based on studies of early chiefdoms in Panama, M. Helms (1988, 1979) argues that the control of esoteric knowledge, as manifest in the long-distance trade of rare goods, links elites to universal or supernatural forces via style and symbolism, thereby reinforcing and justifying social relations. Gilman (1984), referring to the profusion of elaborate local styles in the European Upper Paleolithic, attributes this development to an increase in competition and the desire of some groups to exclude others from access to resources. This trend became even more pronounced later in prehistory, culminating in fierce competition over territory and resources during the Copper Age (Gilman 1991, 1987). As for the southern Levant, the specific source of the ores used to manufacture complex metals has not as yet been positively identified (see Chapter 8), but the lack of local sources makes clear that a long-distance network was involved. In addition to the cost of the materials used and difficulty in obtaining them, the elaborate nature of the castings implies a significant investment of skill and craftsmanship, which also contributes to their greater relative value. The intricacy of many of the forms required additional steps in the production process; in fact, it may required a separate set of specialists altogether; employed to create the intricate molds used in lost-wax casting. The deft execution involved in the casting of these forms, as well as the fact that they were sometimes repaired on the spot (Tadmor et al. 1995), also points to the work of specialists. Information about the social value attached to copper goods may also be encoded in the iconography and style of their design. Numerous archaeologists have stressed the importance of style in material culture as a medium for expressing social relations (Sackett 1977, 1985; Wobst 1977; Conkey 1978; Conkey and Hastorf 1990; Plog 1980; Earle 1991; Chase 1991). Earle (1991) has examined the use of style as a mode of communication, particularly in chiefdoms, arguing that ‘style acts as a critical prop in social drama as it functions to form, maintain, and transfigure social relations’ (Earle 1991:73). Futhermore, greater access to preciosities ‘helped to distinguish certain individuals, households, corporate groups, and communities’ (Earle 1991:261). Studying mobile hunter-gatherer groups of southern Africa, Sampson (1988) argues that style and technology are used to create cultural boundaries, or what DeAtley and Findlow (1984) refer to as ‘techno-territories’. Similarly, Sampson has recently examined evidence for the use of style in lithics used among Dorset groups of the Canadian Arctic, and argues, We should keep in mind the potential to give material culture an active role in symbolizing solidarity and opposition within and between groups or their individual members may have been a principle reason underlying decisions whether or not to obtain or manufacture items of a particular material or stylistic form (1988:418).

In a similar fashion, the metallic goods that circulated in the southern Levant during the Chalcolithic may have functioned as vehicles for communicating existing social relations, while at the same time actively facilitating the creation of new social relationships, group identities and internal social structures. This would seem especially true of the complex metal castings. Both the iconography and the material itself may have served to invoke exotic links with far away peoples, an important point emphasized by Helms (1988) in her research. In discussing the iconography of complex metal castings from the Nahal Mishmar hoard, Beck (1989) points to possible connections with Mesopotamia and Iran. Overall, there was a proliferation in the range of forms appearing in the Chalcolithic copper assemblages. Adopting the technique of casting molten metal into a mold opened up all sorts of

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new possibilities where morphology was concerned (Moorey 1994), and indeed, while forms produced in this medium drew on local motifs, they also served to expand on the rich and eccentric repertory of Chalcolithic iconography. In terms of both the medium (complex metals) and the technique of production (lost-wax casting), these represent technical and artistic landmarks. There are stylistic precedents for the maceheads made in the groundstone tradition using a wide variety of stones, the acquisition of which also involved long-distance trade, and it is feasible that these served functions similar to the metallic versions, ‘functionally’ and symbolically. Many of the other items, however, particularly the standards, are unprecedented,4 and though it is difficult to ascertain their meaning, we may speculate that these new symbols represent the trappings that accompanied a new set of ideas about changing social relations and perhaps religious beliefs as well. Where do the ‘pure’ copper tools and ‘utilitarian’ items figure within this scheme? If we accept that the substantial investment of effort and resources contributes to the value of the complex metal castings, then this must also apply to the ‘pure’ copper items. In other words, whether or not they were imbued with a special social or symbolic meaning, all metal goods at this point in time carried a certain level of exchange value, simply because of the cost of production. This value might have increased as the demand for this new material rose in time. Several scholars (Heskel 1983; Rosen 1993) have made the important observation that the local advent of metallurgy did not bring any new tool types with it: copper simply replaced stone as the material used in the manufacture of forms already known in the lithic assemblage. Furthermore, the ‘utilitarian’ industry was based on the more easily obtained ‘pure’ copper, and focused on the production of simple forms that could be cast in open molds. It would seem then that while they represent expensive goods, they were not socially marked to the same degree that the complex metal castings were. Of course, we must use caution in making such an assessment, for the distribution of these artifacts does not differ significantly from that of the complex metal castings, and overall the tools are just as rare, occurring only at sites where the luxury goods are also present. When the tools do appear it is frequently in caches, hoards, and burials, and in the company of complex metal castings. In sum, we may conclude that the complex metal castings represent socially marked goods, the circulation of which was probably controlled by certain privileged members of society. These goods had a substantial intrinsic value owing to the notable amount of effort and resources invested in their manufacture. In addition, the rarity and nature of the archaeological contexts in which these goods have been discovered also suggests that they carried greater social meaning than most other goods in circulation at the time. When viewed all at once, an intriguing picture emerges of an industry that devoted considerable resources—time, materials, and technology—to the production of goods that were ultimately intended to be hidden, stashed, or interred indefinitely.

Interregional Organization in the Northern Negev One key aspect of the Restricted Access Model is that it presumes a fragmented settlement landscape in the southern Levant during the Chalcolithic. According to Levy, the northern Negev alone comprises a number of distinct sub-regional settlement zones, and within a small area of roughly 3,750 sq km, at least four Chalcolithic settlement areas can be distinguished (Levy 1986, 2003; Levy and Shalev 1989). The most well known sub-regional settlement areas are the Beer Sheva zone, comprising Abu Matar and Bir es-Safadi/Neve Noy, and possibly Horvat Beter, and the Shiqmim zone, including the central site and several satellites, such as Mezad Aluf and Shiqmim Darom. Within these areas both finished copper goods and metallurgical technology were well known. Neither Gilat nor Grar, on the other hand, have produced any evidence for copper production or finished goods (Levy and Shalev 1989). It is possible, therefore, that the absence of copper in both the Grar and Gilat zones resulted from an intentional barrier stemming the flow of both copper goods and technology.



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According to Levy and Shalev (1989:365), ‘the local metal industry in southern Palestine shows a uniformity in metal technology between the settlements that are located in one long narrow area’ covering the Nahal Besor, the Nahal Patish, and the Beersheva Valley. Furthermore, they argue, ‘assuming the contemporaneity of Chalcolithic sub-regional areas in Palestine, the absence of metal production in nearby areas (e.g. Nahal Grar) emphasizes the solidifying role of metalworking in the Beersheva valley area’ (Levy and Shalev 1989:367, my emphasis). However, based on recent discoveries and re-examination of extant material, it now appears that we cannot necessarily assume these sub-regions were occupied simultaneously, and thereby, portions of this model need reconsideration. To begin, it must be stated that no metal artifacts have been found at Gilat to date. A copper macehead was originally reported from the site (Alon 1977; Hanbury-Tenison 1986), but the artifact is in fact cold-worked (ground) mineral ore, perhaps chrysocolla. Gilat and the Nahal Patish should, therefore, be excluded from the ‘copper zone’ (this point is raised again below), leaving only the Beer Sheva and Besor regions where settlement sites with copper are located. The more recent Nahal Tillah Regional Archaeological Project has also contributed important new data on this topic. The Chalcolithic site of Abu Hof (Levy and Shalev 1989) should be tentatively placed on the list of sites without evidence for copper, although this is based on limited excavations. A rich assemblage of cultural material, including more than 100 cornets, has been recovered from the site, but absolutely no evidence for copper or copper production has been found. Several sites may also be added to the list. As discussed already, complex metal castings have been discovered at Peqi’in5 (Gal et al. 1997) and Givat Ha-Oranim (Scheftelowitz and Oren 1997), while the Nahal Qanah cave contained a range of luxury goods including both copper-base ‘natural alloys’ (i.e. complex metals) and gold (Gopher et al. 1990; Gopher and Tsuk 1991). These discoveries significantly change our view with regard to the distribution of copper within the Chalcolithic landscape, extending the ‘copper zone’ substantially further north. At the same time, we must bear in mind that these finds derive from isolated contexts (i.e. hoards and burials) as opposed to settlements, and as far as settlements are concerned, the distribution of copper still appears to be restricted to the Beer Sheva and Besor regions.6 In addition, investigations of smaller sites surrounding Shiqmim (Golden et al. 2001) suggest that within this small settlement system, people at the satellites also had access to copper. Several copper tools were found at these sites along with limited evidence for production. A slag from Mezad Aluf matches those from the central site (Shiqmim) and ore has been found at both this site and another satellite, Shiqmim Darom. As noted in the previous chapter, the three forms of metallurgical finds—complex metal castings, ‘utilitarian’ goods made of ‘pure’ copper and evidence for copper production—frequently all appear at the same settlement sites. Examining the correlation between evidence for metal goods and technology, Levy and Shalev (1989) point out that 62% of all finished copper goods have been found in the region where industrial remains are also known to exist; this obviously excludes the aforementioned cave tombs that were subsequently discovered. If it is true that a number of sites were already abandoned prior to the local inception of metallurgy, then this figure probably underestimates the degree to which evidence for finished goods and production are linked. In other words, the sites where all three forms of evidence occur include only the Beer Sheva sites and Shiqmim; Ghassul, Masos, Mezer have only ‘pure’ copper tools, and the cave sites have no evidence for production, save the lump of ‘raw’ metal from Nahal Qanah. What this pattern demonstrates above all is the uniqueness of the cave tomb caches. As these were not ‘living’ contexts, evidence for production would not necessarily be expected, which also raises important questions about the regional organization of production. Did each community have its own local smiths that produced for immediate consumption only, or was a more complex web of production and exchange in effect? In addition, we need to consider whether it was the finished copper goods alone that had a strong cultural marking, or if the production itself was also similarly marked (see Chapter 9).

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In some cases, certain trends may be more apparent than real. For example, the archaeological record may be biased toward the Negev, the most intensive area of research on the Chalcolithic to date, and large gaps in our knowledge of other regions remain. Evidence for Chalcolithic occupation at a number of northern sites including Tel Fara-North, Beth Shean and Gezer (de Vaux 1971; Kenyon 1985, Amiran 1955) has been noted, yet the nature of these large tell sites with multiple overlying strata from subsequent occupation precludes access to the Chalcolithic levels. For example, Engberg and Shipton (1934) excavating at Megiddo surmised that the absence of copper at the site was probably the result of the small sample size from the Chalcolithic occupation. Other sites in the Beth Shean Valley have been noted (Tsori 1958) but remain unexcavated, while investigation of Chalcolithic settlements in the middle Jordan Valley has been limited to surface surveys (Sadeh and Gophna 1991). At any rate, the dearth of metallurgical remains found outside the Negev, with the exception of isolated burial caves, is still conspicuous. This is particularly true of the Golan, where a number of sites dating to between the mid-fifth and early fourth millennium bc have been excavated (Epstein 1998:336–7). Golan Site 18 was probably the earliest while Site 12 with several C14 dates in the range of ca. 4000–3640 bc was the latest. And although several of these sites were contemporaneous with the copper age sites of the south, no metal had been found in this region. But it is clear that the Golan Chalcolithic represents a distinct cultural variant, geographically removed from the copper producing communities of the northern Negev, and thus the absence of copper is more reasonably explained as a result of regional barriers. This also raises several interesting questions regarding the origins of metal technology, and whether or not Syria and/or Anatolia played a role in its diffusion (see below). The question of Gilat and its role within the broader region requires further discussion. Gilat’s importance as a regional center has already been discussed (Alon and Levy 1989; Levy 2003, 2006). This site was the focal point of pilgrimages where goods originating from various surrounding areas were brought to the site as tribute. For instance, Goren (1989) has found that the Gilat pottery comprises petrographic groups from several localities in the northern Negev, but not from a much broader area, concluding that Gilat may have been a regional center for its immediate surroundings only. At the same time, other lines of evidence such as the variety of raw materials used in the manufacture of violin-shape figurines (Alon and Levy 1989), as well as obsidian from as far as Anatolia suggest that there was indeed a concentration of ‘imported’ materials at the site. The argument for the preeminence of Gilat as a regional center is also based on its role as a cult site (Alon and Levy 1989; Levy 2006). The question then must be raised: if Gilat functioned as an important regional cult center which was on the receiving end of prestige and cultic goods from far afield, why would copper, ostensibly the flagship material of the Chalcolithic culture, be entirely missing from the site? That Gilat—a central site, perhaps even the focus of pilgrimage, which was able to attract outside materials such as olive oil in torpedo jars, a variety of ‘imported’ stones such as those used in the manufacture of ‘violin-shape’ figurines, and obsidian—would have been entirely unable to bring copper to the site is difficult to fathom. If this were true, the inability of the people of Gilat to tap into this new medium may well have contributed to the site’s ultimate demise. In other words, older centers such as Gilat and Ghassul could not keep up with the new ‘copper culture’ and all that came with it; attention turned instead to the Beer Sheva region. But an alternative explanation is also possible: the occupation of Gilat preceded the local advent of copper altogether, abandoned by the time of copper’s local inception.

Summary In this chapter we have attempted to situate the development of metallurgy in the southern Levant within a specific framework of broadly defined sub-phases by examining broad trends in material



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culture. There is a consistent pattern in the ceramic assemblages of the Chalcolithic wherein the earliest levels of certain sites (e.g. Gilat, Ghassul) contain pottery forms (e.g. painted wares) demonstrating overlap with the Wadi Rabah/late Neolithic. One ceramic type that is common at the earlier sites is the cornet, which had its earliest roots in the Late Neolithic but disappeared sometime near the middle of the Chalcolithic. Evidence for copper, on the other hand, especially complex metals with arsenic and antimony, is generally restricted to the latest phase of the Beersheban Chalcolithic (Joffe and Dessel 1995). Changes in technology are also evident, as ore was exclusively cold-worked in the beginning of the period, and then smelted after the local inception of metallurgy. The radiocarbon dates available from the Chalcolithic sites generally tend to support this chronological framework. There is also an ecological component to this problem, as the faunal assemblages display a distribution of pig bones reflecting a shifting settlement pattern over time. Early on people inhabited more northern parts of the Negev where it was possible to raise pigs. Later they moved south into areas that were capable of supporting agriculture and pastoralism, but were less hospitable to pigs. This evidence, in truth, raises as many questions as it answers, for it concerns problems related to ecology and human land use, as well as economic organization. It is possible, for instance, that the establishment of villages further south and deeper into the Negev may have provided some advantage where copper production was concerned; for example, logistical issues related to the transport of materials (i.e. supply-chain issues) and fuel supplies. In this case, the concomitant shifts in food production strategies may have been a matter of adapting to a slightly more arid environment. As we have noted all along, copper was absent from the earlier sites, save Teleilat Ghassul where it comes in the later phases. Viewed at once, the archaeological evidence suggests that the local inception of metallurgy did not occur until well into the Chalcolithic. It is proposed here, therefore, that we divide the Chalcolithic period into at least two distinct phases: the early phase, or pre-metallic Chalcolithic, which may be dated to roughly 4500–4200 bc; and the copper age Chalcolithic, best represented by the copper boom sites of Beer Sheva later in the period ca. 4200–3350 bc. The radiocarbon data also attest to the fact that complex metals, such as copper with arsenic and antimony, were generally restricted to this later Beer Sheva phase (Joffe and Dessel 1995). It may also be possible to outline a third and terminal phase of the Chalcolithic, characterized by the transition to the Early Bronze Age, beginning sometime after ca. 3500 bc. By this time, elements of the ensuing Early Bronze Age culture began to appear at sites such as Wadi Ghazzeh/En Besor Site H, though some Chalcolithic forms such as the ‘V-shape’ and holemouth jar persisted. For sure, further research is needed to clarify many of these issues; for now, we may tentatively propose the following reconstruction. The early Chalcolithic culture grew directly out of the late Neolithic tradition in the southern Levant, with limited outside influence. Shifts in settlement patterns were related to changes in economic organization and practices. In addition to improvements in farming, the herding of sheep and goat expanded and pastoralism emerged as an economic specialization based on ‘secondary products’ production (Levy 1983, 1992a; Sherratt 1981). There was as yet no local metallurgy, although the greenstone cold-working tradition, which began late in the PPN, continued. Late in the fourth millennium bc, a few ‘pure’ copper tools, perhaps imports, appeared at Ghassul. Soon thereafter, however, Ghassul and other Chalcolithic sites may have been in decline or were altogether abandoned (Bourke 2002a, 2001; Bourke et al. 2004a). By this time, groups of people had begun to move south, establishing new communities deeper into the northern Negev. With them they brought a fledgling copper technology, which culminated in the establishment of specialized workshops and, ultimately, a great copper boom. As metallurgy, a new technology with great potential as a powerful medium for communicating information about social relations emerged in the Shiqmim and Beer Sheva areas, the center of commerce and power shifted away from the older settlements such as Gilat and Ghassul and toward the copper-producing sites to the south.

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Notes



1. Several researchers claim to have discovered evidence for Neolithic smelting (Rothenberg and Merkel 1995). However, this seems unlikely; this question is addressed in greater detail below. 2. Based on new radiocarbon dates for the reed matt in which the goods were wrapped, Aardsma (2001) has proposed an earlier age for the hoard. This question is addressed in Chapter 3. 3. Several copper tools were discovered at Masos in bell-shape pits dating to the Chalcolithic, but the evidence for metal production at the site seems to be restricted to Iron Age levels. Unfortunately, Chalcolithic exposures at the site are extremely limited, and the likelihood of finding evidence for production is small to begin with. 4. It is possible that some forms, such as standards, could have also been made from perishable materials, e.g. wood. 5. Metal from Peqi’in have been studied by I. Segal; however, results have not yet been published. 6. It is not clear that these two areas were occupied simultaneously, and within the Besor region copper is not distributed evenly among sites, for sites M, D, and O have virtually no copper. Metallurgical finds from Site H and En Besor are more akin to what we are familiar with from Early Bronze metallurgy.

6

A Model for Specialized Craft Production

Introduction Two important themes in the study of ancient socioeconomic systems are the social organization of production and craft specialization. Both focus on questions concerning the dynamics of production systems and both consider production within a social context. In turn, the study of both ancient production and consumption can be one way to address broader questions regarding social organization on a general level. One of the first archaeologists to address questions about craft specialization in prehistory was Childe (1943). In pursuing his interest in the evolution of craft specialization, Childe (1936) chose to focus on metallurgy since two of his main criteria for specialized production, namely, economic differentiation and unusual technical skills, seemed inherent to this industry (White and Pigott 1996). According to Childe (1943:85), metallurgists are always specialists. Probably from the first metallurgy was a craft as well as a technique… The operations of mining and smelting and casting are too elaborate and demand too continuous attention to be normally conducted in the intervals of tilling fields or mining cattle. Metallurgy is a full-time job.

Of course, questions about production are not only economic in nature. Production takes place within a certain social context, raw materials and their relative value are perceived within a specific social milieu, and labor is usually organized according to cultural norms associated with kinship, ritual, symbolic systems, and politics (Clark and Parry 1990; Childs and Killick 1993; White and Pigott 1996). A related set of considerations concerns the degree to which social institutions may control and affect the patterns of supply and demand. For instance, trade carried out by merchants and/or sponsored by elites, can often lead to significant shifts in the volume of production (Knapp 1988; Ilan and Sebbane 1989; Earle 1989, 1987). Childs and Killick (1993) have developed a model for African metallurgy, where ritual beliefs play a key role in the spatial arrangement of production activities; some of these ideas will be discussed below. Our primary goal in this portion of the discussion will be to outline a model for the organization of production in Chalcolithic society. We will begin by attempting to interpret the spatial distribution of archaeometallurgical remains at both the community and the regional level. The initial problem is to determine what sort of production activities were taking place at the Chalcolithic villages; hence, we must consider some of the archaeological correlates that would be expected at a production area/site.

Craft Specialization Defined What precisely is meant by the term craft specialization? Various definitions of craft specialization have been offered, one of the most useful being that proposed by Costin (1991), who focuses on

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the differential participation in economic activities and the fact that there should be fewer producers than consumers within a particular community or region. Stein and Blackman (1993) explain specialized craft production as ‘the investment of labor and capital towards the production of a particular good or service such that a person produces more of that commodity and less of others than he/she consumes.’ This definition is less oriented toward the community as a whole, instead stressing the individual and what portion of each producer’s efforts is focused on a single craft. Both definitions center on the idea that some individuals, rather than producing subsistence goods exclusively for their own personal consumption, produce commodities, which they may then trade for the staples that they require. More important, both definitions presume the existence of an economic system to support these more specialized endeavors. It is important to note that these basic definitions of craft specialization do not presume that all craftspeople focus only and at all times on their special trade. In other words, whether or not someone is a full-time or part-time craft specialist is a separate and distinct issue. The determination of a producer’s status involves drawing a distinction between various forms of production activities. On the one hand, specialization could mean that most of one’s time is allocated to nonsubsistence production, but does this determine that anyone who participates in non-subsistence activities is a specialist? On the other hand, the term specialist could be a more specific designation, referring only to someone that spends most of the time on the production of a single type of good. Broadly speaking, specialization could also refer to various forms of labor involving the production of non-subsistence goods. Despite the difficulties involved in discerning various forms of production systems, it is critical that we study craft specialization if we are to begin to understand overall social organization. The presence of specialization implies a division of labor, the presence of surplus food production, and the exchange of goods and services. In essence, these are the basic criteria for what we might call economic complexity. The question of when and how craft specialization evolved is a fascinating one. A purely speculative, yet certainly feasible scenario is that even before the Neolithic, as hunting tools became more advanced, certain individuals exhibited greater skill in the production of various tools and weapons than others, and that these more capable individuals would concentrate on, if not ‘specialize’ in, the production of these goods. At some point, it would have become worthwhile for the flint knappers to stay in camp to work on maintaining the arsenal while others went off to hunt, and we may presume that they would have done so only if guaranteed a share of the kill in exchange for their labor. A similar scenario can be imagined for villages of the Neolithic when certain individuals displayed a greater aptitude for the manufacture of pottery and later, during the Chalcolithic, for metalworking. If the skill and ability to produce superior goods were recognized and appreciated by other members of the community, the flint knapper, potter, or metalworker might be able to ensure that their essential needs are met by trading the products of their respective crafts for staples. This may be especially true for metallurgy, a craft that required extensive technical knowledge and skill, as well as access to relatively scarce raw materials, and was therefore an exclusive or even esoteric occupation. Thus, there evolved a simple system which involved the exchange of goods and services. We will now examine more closely the various methods that archaeologists have developed for interpreting evidence for specialized craft production.

Identifying Workshops: Production vs. Consumption The first step in studying craft specialization is establishing how evidence for production might be distinguished from that for consumption/use. One criterion might be that a good portion of the artifacts in a production context should represent work in progress and its associated byproducts, rather than finished goods. As always in archaeology, we must be concerned with the issue of how secure the archaeological context might be, and the determination of which items were incomplete and unwanted (i.e. ‘wasters’) as opposed to those used and then destroyed and/or discarded



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after their use can be difficult. We must therefore pay particular attention to ensure that a certain context is primary and in situ, or to establish to what extent site formation processes may have affected the evidence. Costin (1991) has outlined many of the important issues regarding the identification of production areas. She warns that concentrations of certain artifacts themselves could actually be a reflection of intensive use, and that only certain artifacts constitute definitive evidence for production. In the case of metals, the artifacts that represent evidence for production are slag, ore, crucibles, furnaces, and unrefined metal. As we have seen, finished copper goods can provide valuable information about the methods of production (e.g. the microstructure of metals), but may be less useful in terms of reconstructing the environment in which they were made (e.g. the workshop). There are several indices that may be employed to discern whether an artifact was merely being used in a particular locus or whether it was also produced there, including differential ratios between: production debris and consumed products; unfinished and finished products; unused and used goods; densities of production debris and population densities; quantity of production loci and total population (Costin 1986; Brumfiel and Earle 1987).

Identifying Evidence for Craft Specialization Once it has been established that we are indeed dealing with the remains of production activities, the next step is to outline the ways in which we can detect whether this production was specialized. Again, the model adopted here is based largely on the work of Costin (1991, 1986). She describes four parameters that characterize the organization of production: 1) context, the degree of elite sponsorship involved in production systems, ranging from independent to attached; 2) concentration of production activities, from dispersed localities to nucleated centers; 3) scale of production, from small, kin-based to factory level; and 4) intensity of production, from part-time workers to full-time specialists. Each parameter represents a different facet of the production system, and for each, there is a considerable range of possible formations between the extreme examples given here. Costin (1991) has outlined eight different hypothetical formations for the organization of specialized production, described briefly as: Independent specialization—autonomous individuals or households producing for unrestricted local consumption. Dispersed workshop—larger workshops producing for unrestricted local consumption. Community specialization—autonomous individual or household-based production units, aggregated within a single community, producing for unrestricted local consumption. Nucleated workshops—larger workshops aggregated within a single community, producing for unrestricted regional consumption. Dispersed corvee—part-time labor producing for elite or government institutions within a household or local community setting. Individual retainers—individual artisans, usually working full-time, producing for elite patrons or government institutions within an elite (e.g. a palace) or administered setting. Nucleated corvee—part-time labor recruited by a government institution, working in a specialpurpose, elite, or administered setting or facility. Retainer workshop—large-scale operation with full-time artisans working for an elite patron or government institution within a segregated, highly-specialized setting or facility. These are but a few examples of the multiple ways in which production systems may be organized. In some cases, these categories might be further sub-divided. For example, in Costin’s model, as in similar typologies (Peacock 1982; van der Leeuw 1984), the term independent specialization

100 dawn of the metal age subsumes all forms of household production. Underhill (1991), however, has argued that the category of household production can be further divided into the categories of simple and complex, in order to more accurately reflect the diversity that is characteristic of household industries. Underhill (1991) has also focused on issues related to the transition from manufacture in the household to production in the workshop. The distinction between household and workshop drawn by both Peacock (1981, 1982) and van der Leeuw (1984) is based primarily on gender, in other words, women in the household and men in the shop, but also on the extent to which production represents the larger portion of a producer’s income. Underhill (1991) argues, however, that males may also work in a household environment while using crafts as a source of income, a system that she terms complex household industry. She uses the term individual workshop industry to denote a situation involving intensive production in a separate workshop area. Drawing on the ethnographic record, Miller (1985) compares the complex household industry to a small village in central India, where six houses organized by men communally produce pottery which is exchanged for either grain or cash at the houses or at regional markets. On the Greek island of Thassos, Peacock (1981) observed an industry operated by two men, which he describes as an individual workshop that produced ceramics for the entire island. Underhill (1991) also discusses some of the archaeological correlates that might be expected when changes in the mode of production take place. For instance, when the shift from a simple to a complex household industry occurs, the spatial distribution of production debris will not necessarily vary, although technical changes toward increased efficiency are likely to be seen. As a household industry shifts toward an individual workshop industry several changes may be apparent. Production debris will become concentrated in fewer places, perhaps even one single workshop or production unit, while household industries decline (Tosi 1984; Costin 1991). Both an increase in the standardization of products (Lacovara 1985) and in the diversity of forms (van der Leeuw 1984) may also represent evidence for such a transition. For example, Longacre, Kvamme and Kobayashi (1988) have demonstrated that ceramics produced in nucleated workshop settings are more likely to be standardized in shape and size than those made in the household. It will be argued below that changes similar to those described here can be observed in the Chalcolithic copper industry, where for example, the complex metal castings from the Nahal Mishmar hoard exhibit a high degree of standardization in form and size.

Context According to the model developed by Costin (1991), context refers to the degree to which systems of production are tied to sociopolitical bodies. The terms attached and independent specialization are often employed to describe the relationships between producers and social institutions (Earle 1991). On the one hand, there are independent specialists who ‘produce for a general market of potential customers’ (Costin 1991:11); on the other, there are attached specialists who perform ‘production on command for elites and the social and political institutions they control’ (Costin 1991:5; Earle 1991). Furthermore, it is elites who usually sponsor production, thereby maintaining control over the distribution and consumption of rare prestige goods. The key distinction is that independent specialization develops in response to utilitarian and economic needs, whereas attached specialization implies the interplay of socio-political factors (Brumfiel and Earle 1987). Clark and Parry (1990), however, have argued that the term attached specialization should be applied more broadly to include just about any situation where production is controlled, irrespective of whether any form of elite or political figure had a direct influence on the industry. Several other distinctions between attached and independent specialization can also be drawn. In pre-industrial societies, independent specialists are more likely to produce utilitarian items such as those consumed by households, and there will be no restrictions on the distribution of their products. Attached specialists, on the other hand, typically produce a number of different goods,



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particularly luxury and wealth items, weaponry, and wealth-generating goods (Costin 1991; Stein and Blackman 1993; Gilman 1996). Control over production also translates directly into control over distribution, whereby the circulation of emblems of power and prestige are manipulated. For example, Muse (1991:270) has argued that chieftains in the north Andean area cultivated their power by increasing the productive capacity of their households and appropriating the product in order to compete in the political activities of alliance building and exchange. Considering the connection between power and production, it is critical to note that one does not necessarily precede the other; in other words, power can stem from control over production, while those with power have the ability to commission work. This is an important point to which we shall return again as our story of the Chalcolithic copper industry unfolds.

Concentration Concentration, as the term is employed here, refers to the degree to which production activities are focused in one specific area. The distribution of artifacts within the site, for instance, can be interpreted as a reflection of the way production activities are arranged within a settlement or within a single workshop. As with context, this parameter is construed as a set of stages. At one extreme, specialists are dispersed evenly across a settlement or throughout the region while at the other producers are aggregated to the point where many specialists are congregated in one or a few workshops. At the regional level, it is common that one village will serve as the site of a major production center (Costin 1991:13). In the ethnographic and historical record, there are multiple examples of cities that become synonymous with certain industries, such as Pittsburgh and Detroit and their respective steel and automotive industries. Concentration as a parameter may be viewed at both the community and regional levels. At the community level, we are primarily interested in the number and size of localities where production debris is found within the settlement. If all the evidence for production is concentrated within a single area, this may represent an aggregated production unit, in other words, a workshop. At the regional level, it is the number of sites within the region with evidence for production that is of most concern. In many cases, production will be concentrated in one area because certain communities of producers are exploiting locally available natural resources. For example, studying the mining regions of Ireland, O’Brien explains (1994:247), ruling elites emerge in production zones by acquiring control of critical resources such as copper. Outside the production zone, ruling elites could engage in regional exchange to acquire a range of sophisticated prestige goods which they could then use to consolidate their social position in different ways.

People engaged in large-scale production are likely to take into account their location in relation to trade routes. For instance, industries that require the import of raw materials will be concerned with issues related to supply chain, while those producing finished goods for export will want to facilitate the flow of goods away from the site. The success of Arad as a copper production center during the Early Bronze Age was due in large part to its role as middleman between the mines and markets (Ilan and Sebbane 1989). As noted earlier, there are a variety of ways that localities for production may be configured within a region. At the one extreme there may be an even distribution of producers across the landscape where each shop produces for a comparable number of consumers, and at the other extreme, there is a complete concentration of producers at one site, which supplies an entire region. Of course, there will be a range of formations occurring between these extremes. White and Pigott (1996) have examined the evidence for specialization in metal production in the Ban Chiang culture area of south-east Asia, and conclude that while the distribution of crucibles reflects the presence of resident metalworkers at most villages, the initial stages of mining

102 dawn of the metal age and smelting were conducted exclusively by a few groups much closer to the ore sources. This suggests that even within a single network, the organization of production is likely to vary at different stages of the process (White and Pigott 1996; O’Brien 1994).

Scale It is also critical that we consider the scale of production, in other words, the size and the complexity of the production system. Small-scale individual or family-based production units represent one extreme, while wage-labor forces, known for instance in the industrial West, represent the other (Costin 1991:15). It is critical to note, as in the previous example from Thailand, that at different stages of production labor may be organized differently. For instance, a number of smelting specialists may find it worthwhile to pool their resources for common mining expeditions, only to return to their respective shops once the ore is divided up. Many technological innovations go hand-in-hand with cost-efficient strategies, but certain technologies may be applicable and/or efficient only in industries operating at a certain level (i.e. economies of scale). Some of the factors that may influence the scale at which a production unit operates include: the amount of investment necessary to operate at an efficient level; the profitability of alternative activities (opportunity cost); the necessity, in some cases, to revert to subsistence production; and, of course, patterns in the demand for the product.

Intensity The term intensity as employed here refers to the relative amount of time that producers spend on their craft. Specialization at its most basic level involves part-time producers whose labor, service or commodity production is used to augment the basic household production of subsistence products (Costin 1991:16). At its most complex level, specialization is full-time, where one task exclusively is performed, and the finished product is used in exchange for all other goods and services required by the individual or household. The decision to engage in full-time specialization is usually based on three factors: efficiency, risk and scheduling. Many industries can operate efficiently without requiring the maintenance of full-time labor. For example, in prehistoric Thailand (Ban Chiang) copper and tin production was seasonal, as people who were agriculturists during much of the year labored intensively in metallurgy during the dry season (White and Pigott 1996). Similarly, Rowlands (1972) has pointed out that metal production in the Middle Bronze Age of southern Britain was performed on a seasonal basis, and the same was true for the northern Chin culture of Burma (Myanmar), where metalwork was done between the harvest and the next season of planting, and in Katanga (Congo) where work was organized under a chief during the three month dry-season of the agricultural cycle. Part-time specialization is also found among nomadic groups that are primarily pastoralists but who engage part-time in the manufacture of miscellaneous goods (e.g. copper beads) in order to supplement their income (Rosen 1993). This opportunistic economic strategy is often part of the transhumant lifestyle, where pastoral-nomads with access to both desert resources and village markets are able to supplement their pastoral economy with part-time production and trade. For each of the four parameters described above, the level at which an industry operates is best gauged by using evidence directly related to production; for example, the distribution of raw materials and byproducts (see below). Studying finished goods, however, can also provide vital information about production. Standardization in the forms produced, as well as the materials and/or techniques used may indicate that production is tightly controlled, while multiple examples of identical items may indicate standardized production methods, for example, the use of molds to mass produce certain items. Heightened efficiency in the manufacture of goods may also reflect specialized production. As noted earlier, many crafts, especially metallurgy, required advanced knowledge and skill.



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Furthermore, some technologies will be efficient only at certain levels of production. According to the law of economies of scale, there is a critical point at which certain production strategies become advantageous; in other words, advanced techniques may become worthwhile only when a certain volume of production is desired. There are a number of factors to be considered including the time invested in material preparation and the capacity to maintain a certain rate of production; for example, the decision whether to use a furnace or crucible for smelting may be based on the amount of copper desired.

Toward a Model for Chalcolithic Copper Production We must now develop a model designed specifically for prehistoric copper production, drawing on the theoretical framework outlined above as well as on historical, ethnographic, and archaeological examples of craft production systems. The first step is to determine how evidence for metal production can be identified in an archaeological context. This is a relatively simple task since there are numerous tangible remains directly related to and exclusive to the metallurgical process. For instance, a concentration of slag-encrusted crucible sherds should indicate that smelting/melting took place within that context. The remains of furnaces, which are usually inground installations, provide a clear indication that the context is primary and use-related. After establishing that a primary production context has been identified, the next step is to investigate which specific tasks were being performed at that spot and all other areas with evidence for metallurgy in the hope that any existing patterns in the distribution of production activities might be discovered. This line of investigation may be complicated by the fact that archaeometallurgical remains can represent several different steps in the process of copper production. For example, the examination of Chalcolithic crucibles has demonstrated that some vessels were used exclusively for smelting, while others were used for melting and re-melting/refining processes. In addition, it is often difficult to determine the original form of metallic copper items as they are found in archaeological contexts. In some cases, amorphous lumps of metal with slag inclusions are found, and these probably represent ‘raw’ copper in need of refining. In other instances, these artifacts may represent the remains of copper sheet fragments set to be hammered into an awl or the like. Unfortunately, owing to the poor state of preservation for metal metallographic studies and chemical analyses are not always conclusive. As a result, it is often difficult to discriminate between certain metallurgical activities. These are just some of the types of problems that may be encountered when attempting to reconstruct the dynamics of the production system from an archaeometallurgical assemblage. Of course, any study designed to examine the spatial distribution of archaeological materials must begin with some basic system for classifying different artifact groups. According to Costin (1991:21), in order to identify evidence for specialized production we must look for patterns in the differential distribution of artifact types across the appropriate analytic units, i.e. communities, households, or time periods. For example, it is important to know how many crucibles might be found in a household or workshop context, and in most cases, two or more of these analytical units must be compared. We will now take a look at the methods that can be used to identify the various types of archaeometallurgical remains, and to ascertain how their distribution across an archaeological site reflects different aspects of the production process.

Classifying Forms of Archaeometallurgical Data Raw Material. There are essentially two natural resources used in the smelting process: ore and fuel. As with any raw material, it is important to study not only artifacts found at locales where the material was utilized (e.g. a village workshop), but at the source of that material (e.g. the copper

104 dawn of the metal age mines). The location and accessibility of the sources, as well as the natural state in which the material is found, are key to understanding the production system. O’Brien (1994:237) explains that the organization of production should vary according to the procurement strategy used to obtain ore supplies. For example, the location of smelting sites in relation to mines will determine the type of transportation and distribution strategies employed. The composition and structure of the ore deposit may dictate whether or not additional steps are necessary; for instance, copper ores found as loose nodules may require less preparatory work than those mined from deep deposits, where a separate ore dressing or beneficiation process might be required. It is unclear whether dung or wood was used for fuel, and in the case of the latter, if it was first converted to charcoal (for a useful discussion of this topic see Horne 1986). Carbonized material found in association with metallurgical operations could represent wood converted to charcoal that went unused or fuel in the form of vegetal material that was not entirely consumed in the process; in either case, this should be regarded as raw material. Byproducts. Byproducts may be loosely defined as the incidental or secondary material produced during a process in which some other end product is actually sought. The primary byproduct of the smelting process, in addition to ash, is slag. Slag is often found lining the sherds of crucibles and furnaces; for present purposes, the term transitional slag is used for partially smelted ores (for a more specific description see Chapter 7). Sizeable prills of metallic copper sometimes remain trapped within the slag matrix, and when possible, these have been counted separately. It is difficult to determine whether the artifacts described as slag with ‘raw’ copper had been picked through and ‘left for dead’, in which case they should be considered byproducts, or whether they were deliberately kept for further processing in an attempt to draw out more metal, in which case we might view them as unfinished product. Capital–metallurgical hardware. The term capital as it is used here refers to the hardware and facilities that form part of the archaeometallurgical assemblage. Hardware is the physical equipment used in the production process, crucibles being the most common. Simple furnaces/smelting installations also represent this industry’s capital. These installations represent permanent, or semi-permanent features, and in some cases, the ceramic ‘collars’ may have been reused in conjunction with more than one pit. In either case, the presence of smelting installations represents strong evidence for a primary production zone. It also appears that lids may have been used in conjunction with crucibles and/or furnaces (see Fig. 9:15; 16a and b), which would also be considered hardware. Tuyéres also constitute a form of hardware typically found in a metallurgical workshop, though these are quite rare in the Chalcolithic assemblages (see Shugar 2001).

Indices and Ratios for Interpreting the Distribution of Artifacts We shall now attempt to outline several formulae that can be used to discern meaningful patterns observable in the archaeological record. The basic concepts are derived largely from the more general model for craft specialization, but are here adapted specifically to suit the Chalcolithic archaeometallurgical assemblage. Estimating ratio of production to consumption. Attempting to estimate the ratio of production to consumption where early metallurgy is concerned, we must bear in mind that metal was probably frequently recycled. Clearly, this would affect the ratio of finished products to byproducts. For instance, the re-melting of copper would in most cases not result in the production of slag, thereby skewing the proportion of copper to slag in different contexts. Furthermore, the amount of copper actually produced during the occupation of an earlier level would be under-represented if it re-appeared as a different product at a later time. It is also difficult to determine the amount



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of metal that would have been produced in a single smelt since this might vary depending on the production technique employed. Based on the examination of refractory ceramics from the Negev sites, we can estimate their size and form, yet in order to estimate quantities such as the amount of copper typically won from a specified amount of ore and the quantity of slag produced in the process, experimental research (i.e. the recreation of the ancient smelting process) is needed. Another issue to consider is that crucibles and furnaces may have been reused several times. The ceramic ‘collars’ that were used in conjunction with small pit hearths could have been removed and used as part of several different smelting installations. An interesting example of furnace reuse comes from early Thailand, where, according to White and Pigott (1996:164), the small clay-lined pits used for smelting were simple to make and the portable furnace chimneys could be reused a number of times. The removable/reusable component (i.e. collar or chimney) may have been developed in order to facilitate the extraction of the slag/copper mass from the bottom of the installation without the destruction of the entire unit. Context. The question of whether producers were independent or attached specialists can be studied through either the examination of the finished goods or the evidence for production itself; however, the evidence for an attached workshop (e.g. inside a palace or temple complex) can be elusive. Finished goods can often give an indication of the nature of demand, for example, whether daily-use items (e.g. awls) were produced for the general community, or whether prestige goods were being commissioned by elites. At the site level, it is critical that we examine the location of production areas within a settlement, especially in relation to other contexts within the site, for example, whether workshops are located near each other (e.g. the ‘industrial zone’) or associated with domestic contexts. As for finished goods, the question is whether the context is use related. Copper awls, for instance, found in association with spindle whorls could represent the remains of a textile industry. Items considered to be luxury or prestige goods, on the other hand, are more likely to be found in obscure or inaccessible settings such as tombs or foundation deposits. At the regional level, we may examine whether the organization of production can be set in the context of the broader cultural and physical landscape. Earlier in this chapter, we discussed the importance of procurement strategies and the location of people in relation to ore resources and trade routes. We may also recall the various issues concerning the distribution of copper throughout the southern Levant discussed above. As far as finished goods are concerned, we need to examine whether certain goods are more prevalent in particular areas. In the case of the southern Levantine Chalcolithic, for example, we would want to know if complex metal castings were more common at certain sites. Ultimately, the question of context is of utmost importance with regard to the overall goal of understanding the copper industry within the broader context of Chalcolithic society. One of our primary concerns is with ascertaining the extent to which local copper workshops operated independently, or whether there was an elite that exerted control over the copper industry. If the industry was indeed controlled by or ‘attached’ to elites, we may then be able to address more specific questions about the causal relationship between the emergence of copper technology and the development of social complexity Concentration. Investigating the concentration of metallurgical production debris is fairly straightforward. The key artifacts to look for are capital (e.g. crucibles and furnaces) and concentrations of slag and ore. At the level of the single site, the most basic problem is whether or not production is aggregated within a certain area of the settlement or spread more evenly amongst households. Even in the absence of one central workshop, it is unlikely that every household produced their own metal. We must therefore take into account a certain built-in economy of scale. A minimum

106 dawn of the metal age amount of fuel, for instance, is required to produce sufficient temperatures for smelting regardless of the amount of ore (and the use of dung might further entail the possession of herds). There would also be some concentration of labor since the input of several individuals using blowpipes is required in order to achieve sufficiently high temperatures. At the regional level, the key questions concern the number of sites with evidence for production and their location in relation to each other, the scale of production at each site, and whether people were producing solely for immediate consumption or for export as well. It is also important to consider whether production sites were strategically situated according to sources of raw material and access to trade routes and markets. Intensity. Measuring the intensity of metallurgical production raises questions about who was producing metal, and at what rate. The issue is whether full-time smiths were involved, or if production was less intensive and focused more broadly. We have discussed evidence for seasonal and/or mobile production, which would also relate to intensity, and in some cases it is possible that metal production was practiced on an ad-hoc or as-needed basis. At the same time, it is often presumed that metallurgy requires a certain level of skill, and that specialization is especially likely to develop within this field regardless of the volume of demand (Childe 1943). In some cases, it may be possible to identify evidence for different stages of the production process. While it is feasible that virtually any individual is capable of performing simple tasks such as the crushing of ore or the preparation of fuel, more complicated jobs such as the fashioning of molds and the casting of copper might demand the talent of skilled specialists. Where the lost wax casting method is involved, it is possible that a separate individual, who subsequently passed the design on to the metalworker, first sculpted the initial design for a casting in some pliable material. One way to determine if there was a division of labor within the context of a village workshop is to identify separate stations set up for performing distinct tasks. At the regional level, we may ask if different stages of production were carried out at particular sites; for example, whether smelting was performed at the village workshop or in the vicinity of mines. Scale. There are several important considerations involved in estimating the scale of production in the Chalcolithic copper industry. To begin, the quantity of crucibles or furnaces should both give some indication of the overall volume of production at the level of the workshop, village, or region. It may also be possible to identify broader qualitative shifts in scale by studying variations in the use of equipment over time. For example, White and Pigott (1996) explain that as production expanded, the metalworkers of early Thailand adopted the furnace chimney/bowl furnace smelting system representing a minor increase in capital investment, which in the long run actually saved on capital as well as labor (i.e. economy of scale). As both crucibles and furnaces were used during the Chalcolithic, we will address the question of whether both were used simultaneously or if there was a shift to furnace use, and whether this reflects a technological breakthrough involving a change in the scale of production. Other factors that must be considered include fuel efficiency and time expenditure for each smelt. The results of chemical analysis can also help us understand the investment of time involved, for example, analyzing the ‘purity’ of the raw copper produced might tell us whether additional steps were necessary for the refining of copper.

Summary The objective of this chapter has been to outline a methodology for the study of craft specialization in general, and metallurgy in particular. Using ethnographic, historical, and archaeological examples, we have attempted to create a model that will help us to understand craft production



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during the Chalcolithic of the southern Levant. In the following chapter, we will attempt to apply this general model to the specific archaeometallurgical evidence from Chalcolithic sites, so that we may learn about the dynamics of production. On one level, we are concerned with the logistics of the production process itself, but we are also interested in the mode of production and, ultimately, how this relates to Chalcolithic social organization in general. The investigation of these issues, therefore, will require the integration of both analytical and contextual data for the archaeological finds related to metal production and use.

7

Copper Production at Abu Matar

Introduction We will now examine the question of how the production of copper was organized at the village level, within the context of a single community, focusing primarily on Abu Matar along with Bir es-Safadi and Shiqmim. The first step is to analyze the archaeometallurgical assemblage itself, studying the composition and structure of the artifacts in order to characterize the material culture related to copper production. It is also crucial to examine the distribution of archaeometallurgical remains throughout the site in order to understand the ways in which copper was made, used and disposed of in the daily life of this Chalcolithic village. It must be kept in mind that this was a fledgling industry, and the technology and craft were in their infancy. It was a period of trial and error, experimentation and discovery, as the ancient metalworkers felt their way through this new process. They were also feeling their way through a new economy. Already by the Neolithic, the process of agricultural production had become a social activity involving communal effort and organization. It is not until during the Chalcolithic, however, that there was economic complexity in the sense that production activity became diversified and a division of labor began to emerge. In other words, while working through a technological revolution, the people of Abu Matar and other villages were also experiencing changes in the basic structure of society and economy. Advances in agricultural technology went hand in hand with changes in the organization of production, for by farming with greater efficiency (i.e. greater output with less investment) food production required less time, thus freeing up time (i.e. ‘labor hours’) for people to pursue other endeavors. Of course, the pursuit of other endeavors required that there be a surplus to support those who did not themselves produce food, and indeed, evidence for large-scale grain storage has been found at several of the Chalcolithic sites in Jordan including Abu Hamid (Dollfus and Kafafi 1993), Ghassul (Bourke et al. 2000), Pella (Bourke et al. 1998) and Sahab (Ibrahim 1987) as well as in the northern Negev at Gilat and Shiqmim (Levy 2003). So, as agricultural output became more reliable, people had more time for tinkering in areas other than subsistence production, and could now afford to spend more time engaging in their crafts. These developments were directly related to the emergence of the metals industry, and therefore in the discussion that follows, we will investigate the emergence of metallurgy as a specialized craft by reconstructing not only the process of copper production itself, but by modeling the social and economic dimensions of the entire production system. We will begin by examining the archaeometallurgical assemblage followed by an analysis of those data according to the specific parameters outlined in the previous chapter. Our goal will be to identify meaningful patterns in the distribution of archaeometallurgical evidence within the context of a single village. Since the original excavations at Abu Matar during the 1950s (Perrot 1955), several small groups of artifacts from the site’s archaeometallurgical assemblage have been studied (Rothenberg



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et al. 1978; Hauptmann 1989), with this research contributing a great deal to our understanding of Chalcolithic copper production, especially at a time when little was known. From 1995–97, I had the opportunity to examine nearly the entire assemblage while a fellow at the Albright Institute and a guest researcher at the CNRS, both in Jerusalem. As a graduate student at the University of Pennsylvania, I was able to conduct analytical studies of this material at UPenn’s MASCA labs, followed by a stint in Bochum, Germany, where extensive studies were carried out at the Institut für Archäometallurgie, Deutsches Bergbau-Museum. The results of this research, based on a comprehensive study of the entire archaeometallurgical assemblage from Abu Matar, Bir es-Safadi and Shiqmim are presented here. Samples from each of these sites representing each of the artifact classes were selected for scientific analysis along with some samples from Gilat and Nahal Tillah. The archaeometallurgical remains from more recent excavations at Abu Matar (Gilead et al. 1991) have also been studied (Shugar 2001), and the results of this research are also considered. Discussion of the archaeometallurgical assemblage can be broken down into four basic sets of questions: 1) What raw materials (e.g. ore) were used to produce copper, and is it possible to determine where this material came from? 2) What types of artifacts represent the Chalcolithic metalworker’s toolkit (e.g. refractory ceramics), and how these were employed in the smelting process? 3) What is the nature, specifically, the structure and composition of the slag that was produced in this smelting process, and what can this tell us about the overall process? 4) What can be inferred from the metallic copper—both ‘raw’ metal and final end products—about the production process? By addressing these questions, each of which pertain to various stages or facets of the metallurgical process, we can attempt to reconstruct the entire process of copper production.

Raw Material: Ore and Fuel The first step in any metallurgical process involving smelting is the selection of ores. Thus, any study on an ancient metallurgical system might begin with questions about the ore—what types, where from, how much—discovered at production sites. Answering these questions entails describing and characterizing the ores based on chemical analysis and microscopic examination of the artifacts, or in the case of ore, ‘geofacts’. This in turn requires an understanding of where this material derives from, calling for provenance studies, where the ore found in archaeological contexts at production locales far away from mines (e.g. at village sites), are compared with the material from known sources. While such studies cannot provide precise answers about sources with absolute certainty, they can be used to make fairly accurate predictions. There are several different approaches that may be employed in the analysis of ores. Bulk chemical analysis yields information about the overall composition of material, which can be used for direct comparison with quantitative data from known ore sources. It is also necessary to study the structure—macrostructure and microstructure—of the ore in order to determine the types of mineralizations from which the ores originate, and to give the best indication of what types of ores were selected. The types of ore found at the Negev sites include malachite, (par)atacamite, chrysocolla (the secondary Cu-minerals) as well as ‘tile’ ores, a mixture of cuprite and limonite named for their brick red color. Chalcocite and covellite, the copper sulfides, also appear, though less frequently. Also common are the ‘brecciated ores’ where cuprite (tile ore) is intermixed with malachite and other green secondary copper minerals, producing a marble-like effect.

110 dawn of the metal age Although multiple factors determine the outcome of the smelting reaction, the composition of the ore will ultimately have the greatest bearing on the composition of the slag, the byproduct of the smelting process. The most important characteristic of the Chalcolithic ore is the high copper content: of the ores analyzed in this study, not one contained less than 42% copper (see Table 7.1). This is obviously a critical factor when we attempt to understand the extractive process. For once it became possible to generate temperatures of at least 1200° C and to produce a reducing atmosphere, extracting metallic copper from these ores became much easier. CuO

Cu

S norm.

Pb in %

Pb norm.

BAM 471 (mason 11)

66.0

62.7

Fe in % Fe norm. Mg in % Mg norm. Mn in % Mn norm. S in % 4.51

8.55

0.123

0.233

0.003

0.006

6.78

12.86

0.0150

0.0264

Zn in % Zn norm. 0.0125

0.0237

BAM 481

42.4

33.9

6.59

19.45

0.095

0.280

0.002

0.007

0.49

1.46

0.0150

0.0442

0.0280

0.0626

BAM 586 L 127

47.5

38.0

13.6

35.77

0.348

0.916

0.004

0.011

0.11

0.30

0.0280

0.0738

0.0060

0.0159

BAM 823 L 207

47.9

38.2

5.02

13.14

0.067

0.150

0.003

0.007

1.63

4.27

0.0340

0.689

0.0050

0.0131

BAM 888

56.0

44.8

2.39

5.35

0.103

0.230

0.005

0.011

2.95

6.60

0.0240

0.0536

0.0170

0.038

BAM-888-36

50.3

40.2

2.73

6.80

0.09

0.224

0.01

0.020

3.30

8.23

0.056

0.1403

0.016

0.046

BES 1332

54.6

43.6

0.61

1.39

0.139

0.316

0.002

0.004

1.24

2.84

0.0125

0.0257

0.0120

0.0275

BES 1607

57.9

46.3

13.2

28.58

0.095

0.206

0.003

0.007

4.32

9.33

0.0380

0.0621

0.0012

0.0026

BES 2034

73.9

59.0

10.6

18.29

0.059

0.099

0.006

0.014

9.92

16.79

0.0290

0.0491

0.0045

0.0077

BES 865

71.2

56.9

5.97

12.26

0.067

0.118

0.008

0.014

7.13

12.53

0.0530

0.0932

0.0075

0.0132

GILAT 3.7623

7.90

6.3

0.14

2.22

0.11

1.723

0.02

0.280

0.06

1.22

0.007

0.1056

0.002

0.0315

GILAT B 2157

11.48

9.2

0.11

1.23

0.10

1.098

0.02

0.187

0.09

0.97

0.003

0.0299

0.004

0.0459

NT 11678 L79

50.0

39.9

6.72

16.85

0.169

0.423

0.006

0.012

0.23

0.57

0.3160

0.7917

0.1780

0.4459

NT 11694 L79

69.7

55.7

0.06

0.14

0.239

0.428

0.020

0.036

0.25

0.45

0.0580

0.1041

0.0930

0.1689

MA 24 L1

66.4

53.0

6.33

11.93

0.126

0.238

0.003

0.005

5.60

10.65

0.0340

0.0641

0.0006

0.0011

SQ 06672 L02201

61.2

48.9

2.78

5.69

0.090

0.184

0.002

0.005

4.13

8.45

0.0210

0.0430

0.0130

0.0268

SQ 08465 L2788

69.5

55.5

3.12

5.63

0.192

0.346

0.005

0.010

3.00

5.41

0.0230

0.0414

0.0155

0.028

SQ 08472 L2709

57.9

46.3

4.31

9.31

0.143

0.308

0.004

0.009

4.05

8.76

0.0420

0.0907

0.0040

0.0086

SQ 2030 L1004

53.4

42.7

0.47

1.10

0.020

0.046

0.005

0.012

9.23

21.64

0.1900

0.4453

0.0017

0.0039

SQ 3717 L1228

65.5

52.3

4.52

8.82

0.145

0.278

0.002

0.004

2.47

4.72

0.0610

0.1166

0.0245

0.0468

SQ 4542 L1436

58.4

46.6

3.87

8.29

0.111

0.237

0.002

0.005

4.30

9.23

0.0240

0.0515

0.0075

0.0161

SQ 5825 L1751

53.0

42.4

4.17

9.83

0.243

0.575

0.004

0.009

2.68

6.34

0.0085

0.0201

0.0215

0.0506

SQ A274

40.6

32.6

21.8

66.80

0.13

0.386

0.01

0.032

0.46

1.42

0.38

1.1617

0.004

0.0133

BAM 65

42.7

34.1

8.74

25.59

0.17

0.492

0.00

0.013

0.21

0.62

0.017

0.0502

0.000

9E-05

BAM 809 L201

48.0

38.3

16.9

44.10

0.233

0.608

0.006

0.016

3.34

8.70

0.0190

0.0496

0.0070

0.0183

BAM 862

40.8

32.6

17.2

52.64

0.38

1.178

0.01

0.033

0.14

0.44

0.023

0.0699

0.011

0.0329

BAM 940.1 (3)

76.8

61.4

6.75

11.00

0.35

0.583

0.00

0.007

1.70

2.77

0.020

0.0326

0.009

0.0151

BAM 940/4

34.1

27.2

23.3

85.60

0.206

0.755

0.008

0.031

0.80

2.94

0.0240

0.0882

0.0100

0.0388

BAM 940/8

43.5

34.8

24.0

69.11

0.176

0.506

0.010

0.028

3.32

9.54

0.0190

0.0546

0.0035

0.0101

BAM 950/1

45.1

36.0

18.8

52.29

0.343

0.951

0.010

0.027

0.13

0.35

0.0260

0.0721

0.0195

0.0541

BAM 951

35.8

28.6

14.5

50.61

0.43

1.499

0.01

0.047

1.02

3.58

0.023

0.0814

0.016

0.0568

BAM 958 L244

23.9

19.1

26.7

140.20

0.196

1.026

0.010

0.055

0.26

1.39

0.0370

0.1940

0.0080

0.0419

BAM L 244

42.1

33.6

4.62

13.73

1.01

3.003

0.03

0.100

0.24

0.71

0.015

0.0450

0.005

0.016

BAM 782

15.0

12.0

26.5

221.18

0.89

7.468

0.07

0.568

0.14

1.16

0.030

0.2513

0.045

0.3737

BAM 940/2 (2)

38.7

29.3

15.5

53.01

0.30

1.013

0.01

0.033

0.18

0.61

0.069

0.2343

0.028

0.0944

BES-223.13

9.15

7.3

26.6

383.68

0.72

9.855

0.08

0.788

0.14

1.94

0.035

0.4789

0.007

0.099

SQ 1207

51.9

41.4

27.2

65.61

0.23

0.565

0.03

0.068

1.56

3.77

0.033

0.0802

0.004

0.0089

SQ 7354

42.6

34.0

31.0

91.15

0.20

0.589

0.01

0.041

2.30

6.76

0.077

0.2271

0.002

0.0067

SQ B 70

61.2

46.9

11.6

23.64

0.16

0.329

0.01

0.014

1.73

3.54

0.022

0.0444

0.001

0.002

Table 7.1 a) Chemical composition of ores from Chalcolithic sites in the northern Negev; BAM= Abu Matar; BES= Bir es-Safadi; SQ.MA= Shiqmim; NT= Nahal Tillah 79. b) Chemical composition of slags from Chalcolithic sites in the northern Negev; BAM= Abu Matar; BES= Bir es-Safadi; SQ.MA= Shiqmim.



Copper Production at Abu Matar

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Figure 7.1 Ternary diagram showing relative proportions of mineral phases in Chalcolithic slags; F = iron oxide; Cu = Copper oxide (after Hauptmann et al. 1992).

Provenance Studies To understand the organization of production it is necessary to answer a number of questions about the acquisition of ore, and for this we may turn to provenance studies. Provenance studies are usually based on the results of bulk chemical analysis, where techniques such as AAS, NAA, XRD, ICP and lead-isotope analysis can be used to create a chemical profile for the ore being studied. If unique traits can be isolated, for instance a relatively high amount of certain trace elements, this can be used as a ‘signature’ to narrow the options down to specific mines (or, ideally, one specific mine). There are two ancient mines known in the southern Levant capable of producing the type of material found at the Negev sites, namely Faynan and Timna. Neither mineralization, however, could have provided the ore used to produce complex metals, and for these ores, more distant sources must be considered (see below). The goal, ultimately, is to compare the chemical profiles of ores found at village smelting sites with those from the mines, to find a match, and to thereby determine the most likely source of that material. While bulk chemical analyses give an accurate representation of the ore’s general chemical constituents, it is also possible using SEM-EDAX to isolate distinct mineral components within the ore body. This method of ‘spot analysis’ can be quite useful for characterizing the texture

112 dawn of the metal age

Figure 7.2 Binary diagram showing percentages of magnesium and manganese in ores from various Chalcolithic settlements; note how the two samples of ore from Gilat, which were not used for smelting, fall outside the main cluster.

and structure of the ore. The copper ore deposit at Faynan is ‘genetically’ connected with occurrences all along the western Arabah, including Timna. This connection predates the transversal slip movement of the Arabah sift system, and so both deposits are similar in terms of the chemical composition of the ores they bear. The Faynan and Timna mineralizations therefore are geologically related, meaning that the chemical profiles of the ore from each of the two deposits are very similar. It is, however, noteworthy that they have been exposed to varying geological conditions over time, in particular, tectonic movement; therefore, they differ in structure and texture, making it possible in most cases to distinguish between the two (Hauptmann 1989). The results of the ore analyses indicate that most of the ore found at the Beer Sheva sites probably derives from Faynan. It also appears that mining activity during the Chalcolithic was generally restricted to one specific formation within the Faynan mining region, the Massive Brown Sandstone (MBS) Formation. One of the most important conclusions to be drawn from the data is that both the green malachite and red cuprite, the predominant ores found in the MBS, are capable of producing a relatively high yield of copper relying on simple technology. There does seem to have been a preference for the often iron-rich red ores such as cuprite and tile ore, and it is plausible that these were selected because they were perceived of as more easily smelted. The high iron content, along with the silica from the hostrock, may have produced a self-fluxing effect that would have been recognized by the ancient metalworkers. The use of fluxes and the amount of slag produced in these early smelts has, however, been the subject of some debate (see Golden et al. 2001). While the MBS unit at Faynan appears to be the most likely source of the Chalcolithic ores, it may even be possible to isolate more specific localities within this context. For instance, based on evidence from the present study, it may be tentatively suggested that Wadi Ratiye,



Copper Production at Abu Matar

113

Figure 7.3 SEM micrograph showing typical brecciated ore; note the large quartz grains (Q) of the host rock.

Wadi Abiad, and Wadi Abu Kusheiba were the primary targets of early miners. According to Craddock, ‘the general conclusion from the examination of mines, smelting places and metal is that whatever copper mineral was encountered was smelted’ (1995:135). The current evidence, however, suggests that some of the ancient miners may have been rather selective in their quest for raw material. What emerges is the picture of people in search of very specific material, with a particular interest in the copper-rich, ‘self-fluxing’ ores. In fact, a number of factors, such as the accessibility of various deposits, the ease with which ore could be mined and moved, and competition from other people aware of the value of these natural deposits (see below), may have all come into play. Irrespective of the particular source, the ores from Shiqmim, Abu Matar, and Bir es-Safadi form a consistent group based on both the chemical analysis (see Table 7.1, Figs 7.1 and 7.2) and their texture and structure (Fig. 7.3). This in itself has some interesting implications regarding the overall organization of copper production in the region. It is possible that knowledge about the mines was shared between metalworkers at various settlements, resulting in the consistent selection of certain types of ore. A variety of ore types, including those from both the MBS and the DLS, are available in the greater Faynan region, and still, virtually identical material is found at the Beer Sheva sites, over 100km away from the source. One explanation for this pattern is that a single supplier familiar with the ore deposits brought ores to the Beer Sheva Valley, where they were subsequently dispersed to the various sites. It is also possible that the villagers organized their own expeditions to the mines, with their eyes set on specific material. We must also take into an account an important fact: it is more efficient to actually conduct the smelting at the site of the mine, so as to avoid the unnecessary transport of unwanted material all the way back to the villages. Certainly this would have occurred to the metalworkers

114 dawn of the metal age so familiar with this material; at the very least, the person who had to do the work of transporting this bulky, weighty cargo might have thought of this. This leaves the question of why they usually did not smelt the ore at the mine. One explanation is that access to and control of the mines was competitive and contentious. It is possible, for example, that mobile peoples (e.g. pastoral nomads) roaming these lands could have made trouble for outsiders attempting to exploit the mines. Were this the case, some mining operations may have been conducted in a covert manner.

Byproducts ‘Transitional’ Slag One of the best indicators of metallurgical activity is the slag produced during the smelting of ore. Slag, the byproduct of a thorough smelting process contains gangue, the non-metallic and therefore unwanted material such as silica, alumina and other minerals deriving from the hostrock. Where the fledgling Chalcolithic industries and their technology are concerned, however, we must qualify the use of the term slag. In later industries with more developed furnace technology metalworkers produced a liquid slag, generally devoid of any metal, that was easily tapped, simply spilling to the ground and cooling to form clumps or ‘slag cakes’. This was not the case for the Chalcolithic, where the complete separation of metal and non-metallic material did not usually occur and the furnace charge rarely reached a fully liquid state. Rather, we see a range of slag-like material, including a material referred to here as ‘transitional slag’ because in many cases it is little more than unsmelted (unreacted) ore. The structure of transitional slag often reflects that of the original ore (see Fig. 7.4), and generally has a heterogeneous texture, which is usually a conglomeration of partly decomposed ore, glassy slag, and small flecks of metallic copper. Describing the slag discovered at the Fidan 4 site, Hauptmann et al. (1992: 4) say it reflects the ‘transitions from decomposed ore to structures formed by high temperatures’; this is essentially the same pattern observed in the slag from Shiqmim and Beer Sheva. As noted already, previous studies of metallurgical remains from Chalcolithic sites indicate that neither temperatures nor reducing conditions sufficient to produce a free-flowing, liquid slag were achieved this early (Craddock 1995; Hauptmann 1989). The evidence observed in the present study concurs with this interpretation. Again, the term transitional slag is used here to describe the artifacts that appear to represent partly decomposed ore that was not quite liquid slag. The inhomogeneous structure of the transitional slag indicates that smelting temperatures were either insufficiently high or not sustainable. This may also reflect a smelting atmosphere inside the chamber or installation that was inconsistent, perhaps owing to the fact that these furnaces were not completely sealed (see below). Yet another way to determine the effectiveness of these early smelting methods is to examine the chemical composition of the slag, as the proportion of copper remaining in the slag is a sign that metal was not successfully extracted. As would be predicted, the residual ore structure often observed in the transitional slag indicates that the ore found at the sites, and believed to derive deposits at Faynan, are indeed the ores that were utilized by the village metalworkers, i.e. the transitional slag mirrors the ore used to make it. Liquid slag was generally not produced by the Chalcolithic smelters, but rather this transitional slag was primarily formed in a pasty state. Probably, the transitional slag represents part of a larger mass comprised of incompletely processed ore and large copper prills that subsequently needed to be broken up by mechanical means (e.g. with a hammer) in order to free copper prills, thereby creating an additional step in the process (see Craddock 1995; Bamberger and Wincierz 1990).



Copper Production at Abu Matar

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Figure 7.4 SEM micrograph showing typical reaction between the silica and iron oxides. Here, the large quartz grain (Q) is beginning to decompose as it forms its high temperature modification crystobalite (SiO2). As the quartz grains (Q) begin to break down, the cuprite precipitates to form small prills of metallic copper; compare this with the micrograph of ore in Fig. 7.3)

The Metallurgist’s Toolkit Crucibles The Chalcolithic metalworker’s toolkit included crucibles, furnaces (or proto-furances) and most likely some form of blowpipe. Fragments of ceramic crucibles, oval in shape with a diameter of roughly 10 cm that tapers to form a spout on one end, have been found throughout the Beer Sheva sites (see Figs 7.5a-c; 7.6). It would appear that crucibles were used interchangeably both for smelting and melting, though it is also possible that in some cases what appears to be smelting slag adhering to the crucible walls may in fact have come from the re-melting of previously smelted material. In other words, in most cases true slag was not produced during smelting processes of the Chalcolithic and a second step of crushing the hardened furnace product was usually required. We may infer that the prills of metallic copper, small yet visible to the naked eye, would have been pried from the mass, but would have needed an additional round of heating in order to remove the unwanted impurities. Were this step to be performed in a crucible, some of the material might give the impression that the smelting of ore had been conducted. Close examination of the crucible sherds reveals that in most cases, smelting slag and the glassy material more typical of copper-melting usually appear together, which would indicate that crucibles were used for the type of refining process just described.

116 dawn of the metal age

a

b

Figure 7.5 a) photograph of crucible fragment (M. Barazzani); and b) photograph of crucible fragment showing areas where artifact was sampled for thin section preparation (J. Golden). Note in fig. 7.5b the slag adhering to vessel rim.



Copper Production at Abu Matar

117

a

b

Figure 7.6 Drawing of ‘complete’ (reconstructed) crucible: a) view from end, b) view from side (drawing by J. Golden).

118 dawn of the metal age

a

b

c

Figure 7.7 ‘V-shape’ vessel from Abu Matar (Locus 202) re-used as a crucible: a) photograph of exterior; b) photograph of interior (J. Golden); and c) drawing of ‘complete’ vessel (J. Golden).

The use of crucibles, which are smaller than furnaces, would have been expedient for melting metal. Heat could be more easily focused and applied, and other tasks, such as the skimming off of unwanted impurities, might also be more easily performed in the smaller vessel. Of course, any metallurgical industry that involves casting requires the use of the portable crucibles from which to pour molten copper. In one unique instance, a discarded ‘V-shape’ vessel served a secondary function as a crucible (see Fig. 7.7a-c).



Copper Production at Abu Matar

a

b

Figure 7.8 a) Photograph of furnace wall interior with slag coating; and b) exterior of furnace wall (M. Barazzani).

Figure 7.9 Drawing of furnace wall, interior face with profile and overview (J. Golden).

119

120 dawn of the metal age Furnaces/Smelting Installations Small installations that essentially functioned as furnaces were used for the smelting of ores. These early furnaces (perhaps best called ‘proto-furnaces’) had two primary components: an upper portion, a ring-shaped ‘chimney’, and a lower portion, a pit-bowl. The shallow pit-bowl, estimated to be between 20-30 cm deep, was lined with reeds (i.e. simple basketry) covered with clay, as indicated by the presence of long, thin cavities preserved in the hardened clay lining the surface of the pit. Above the sunken base of the furnace on the edge of the pit sat the semi-circular ring made of ceramic, which formed a small chimney-like upper chamber (see Fig. 7.8a-b and 7.9). In most cases, it was these upper walls that were most likely to survive

Figure 7.10 Photograph of furnace fragment from Shiqmim; view of profile of a ceramic furnace wall = with vitrified coating, as depicted in Fig.7.12 (J. Golden).



Copper Production at Abu Matar

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Figure 7.11 a) Photograph of ceramic furnace fragment, possibly a lid, from Abu Matar.

Figure 7.11 b) Interior face of cermamic disc in fig. 7.11, showing vitrified surface that would have faced into the furnace.

122 dawn of the metal age in the archaeological record. In order to understand how these early furnaces were used, we must study the form and structure of the furnace walls, in addition to analyzing the slag found adhering to these walls. The most extensive assemblage of furnace remains comes from Abu Matar and Bir es-Safadi, and to a lesser extent Shiqmim, though the latter has yielded one of the more complete examples (see Fig. 7.10). To date, furnaces have not been reported from other Chalcolithic sites. Examining the furnace remains, what emerges is a picture of a very simple smelting installation involving a lower pit that may have been used to contain a bed of fuel surrounded by ceramic walls, which stood to a height of roughly 10 cm above the rim of the pit (see Fig. 7.8-10). The proposed reconstruction of a complete furnace is shown in Fig. 7.12. The ceramic walls formed a semi-circular ring, with an open window roughly 10 cm in width, which might have been used for the insertion of blowpipes. The complete furnace was probably about 30-40 cm deep, and 30-40 cm in diameter. It is possible that these installations were covered with a lid during use (see below). The product of the smelting operations carried out in these installations was probably a dense mass—a frozen suspension once it cooled—of transitional slag lumps and partly smelted ore containing small copper prills (see Fig. 7.13). This furnace product could then be broken up manually in order to retrieve the desired beads of copper. It is feasible that the collar portion of the furnace would have been removed in order to access more easily the desired material.

Figure 7.12 Reconstruction of smelting furnace, section drawing (J. Golden).



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Figure 7.13 Photograph of furnace fragment with beads of copper trapped in a thick layer of slag (J. Golden).

Village Production in Context The site of Abu Matar was occupied for some few hundred years from the middle part of the Chalcolithic on. As noted earlier, it was during this time that the copper industry first took off, constituting what was no less than a technological revolution. It is important, therefore, that we pay attention to any evidence for change in the archaeometallurgical assemblage over time if we are to grasp the dynamics of this industry. As noted in Chapter 3, the sequence of occupation at Abu Matar has been divided into two or three main phases (Perrot 1955). The first phase comprises levels I and II (level Ib and IIb are intermittent periods of abandonment), while the second phase lasted but a brief time and is represented only by ephemeral remains, such as a few hearths and stone circles connected with burials, presumably from level III. The third phase of occupation, Level IV, is characterized by the stone foundations of rectilinear architecture on the site surface. It must be noted, however, that in some cases it can be quite difficult to apply the tripartite chronological scheme, as there are few tangible remains from the second phase. We must therefore rely on the simpler, two-part division of an early and late phase for some of the loci. We must also take into consideration the stratigraphic scheme proposed by Gilead, Rosen and Fabian (1991) that differs significantly from that offered by Perrot. It was noted earlier (Chapter 3) that this team has objected to Perrot’s (1955) application of this stratigraphic sequence derived mainly from one portion of the site to the settlement as a whole. Of course, various factors such as settlement drift can create such a situation where the entire site was

124 dawn of the metal age not occupied at one time; in fact, this is to be expected. Furthermore, Gilead (1988) has argued that the subterranean and surface architecture were used simultaneously. We also noted earlier that Gilead, Rosen and Fabian (1991) have proposed an alternative sequence for the portion of the site they excavated, but as the artifacts under review derive from Perrot’s (1955) excavations we must follow the sequence of occupation as proposed by him. In the remainder of this chapter we will study the distribution of all artifacts related to metallurgy, attempting to examine how these patterns vary according to the chronological phases of occupation.

Contextual Data Associated with Production Debris In the initial publication based on the Abu Matar excavations, Perrot (1955) discusses some of the evidence for metallurgical production in great detail. There are also unpublished records for each artifact, and Perrot’s field notes,1 some of which refer to specific features that were associated with metallurgical activities. Initially sorting through these records while inspecting the artifacts themselves, one broad trend became immediately apparent: the most significant concentrations of archaeometallurgical remains derived from four loci—127, 155, 218, and 244 (Figure 7.14). These specific contexts, because of their association with intensive metallurgical activities, will be described here in detail. Locus 127. Locus 127 is a large, semi-subterranean structure where evidence for copper production was discovered. The remains of a heating installation (‘foyer’) measuring 30-40 cm in diameter were found in association with substantial amounts of charred wood or charcoal. Only small amounts of slag and ore were recovered (Figs 7.14, 7.19). Two other features found in this locus include a conical basin measuring 55 cm in diameter, and next to it a cylindrical basin 42 cm in diameter, partly covered by a stone. It is possible that these were related to production, perhaps installations for the preparation of ore. The subterranean unit Locus 127 appears to have been used repeatedly over a relatively long period of time, and Perrot (1955) has assigned it to both Phase I and Phase II. In some cases, artifacts from both phases have been recorded as one, but for present purposes are split into 127a and 127b. The earlier of the two, 127a, appears to be one of the earliest structures at Abu Matar, suggesting that the founders of the site already possessed knowledge of metallurgy upon their arrival, an important issue to which we shall return. In front of the passage to Locus 128 and connected with Locus 127 was a hearth, which Perrot described in his notes as a round, flat-worked cobblestone with ash containing traces of straw and small twigs along with what was probably a pile of dung, the dung most likely used for fuel.2 The small ceramic plate Perrot refers to recalls the artifact mentioned earlier, used perhaps as a lid to cover a furnace (Fig. 7.11a-c). The pile of twigs could have been used to ignite the furnace. Alternatively, the twigs could represent a basket-like frame used to form the ceramic lining of the furnace interior. Numerous fragments of copper were also found in the so-called couche noire (‘the black level’) of Layer 7. Locus 155. Another important locus where archaeometallurgical remains have been recovered is Locus 155, a subterranean structure from Period Ia, the earliest occupation at the site. The excavator describes it in the main site publication (Perrot 1955) and it is translated here: ‘The gray layer in the bench is roughly 25 cm above the level of stones. The limits of the house remain unclear… to the north and to the east the walls are burned and reddened by fire’.3 Again, there is evidence for ash associated with a pit or depression, with a diameter of 30 cm, which generally corresponds to the size of the furnace wall collars; slag and ore have also been recovered. Fragments of furnace walls coated with slag were also observed in Locus 155, as well as at least one crucible (see Fig.



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Figure 7.14 Map of Abu Matar showing distribution of artifacts related to metal production (adapted from Perrot 1955).

126 dawn of the metal age 7.16). Aside from the archaeometallurgical remains, Locus 155 appears to have been a typical domestic context with cooking and serving wares, giving the overall impression of a small production station operating at the household level. Locus 218. Locus 218 is a subterranean structure roughly 4 m in diameter, located just 5 m to the east of L. 244, the largest metal-producing zone at the site. A small diagram drawn by the excavator (not reproduced here) depicts what appears to be a pit or depression created with stones labeled with findspots for copper and carbon. In addition to the large quantity of ore in this locus (see Fig. 7.20), there were two large slabs of flint with visible traces of work interpreted as anvils for the crushing of ore by the excavator (Perrot 1955:79, pl. 12A). The collection of ore found in association with the anvils suggests that Locus 218 served as a station for the ore storage and preparation of raw material (this conclusion is also supported by the archaeological evidence discussed below, see ‘Intensity of Production’). Locus 244. The most extensive evidence for metallurgical production at Abu Matar occurs in Locus 244 (see Fig. 7.14). Perrot (1955:79) describes this locus as follows: In 244, a large oval depression, 8 m × 6 m, was found filled to a depth of almost 1 m. with alternate layers of ashes and sandy soil constituting new floors. These floors present traces of small fireplaces (0.4-0.5 m) and, in the ashes covering them, numerous fragments of ovens and crucibles were found.

Here, as in Locus 134 and Locus 202/2, pulverized ore was found on a reddened floor mixed with charcoal (Perrot 1955). Roughly half of the crucibles and more than 70% of the furnace walls from the entire site come from Locus 244 (Figs 7.15-16). The highest concentration of slag also came from Locus 244 (Fig. 7.19). Crucibles and furnaces also provide evidence for an in situ workshop, though it is possible they were stored elsewhere when not in use. Slag and exhausted crucibles might be removed from the work area and deposited elsewhere, while furnace walls, as part of an installation, may have remained in situ. On the other hand, the ceramic furnace ‘collars’ might have also been considered disposable or semi-disposable. Overall, the combination of fire pits/ ash deposits with a heavy concentration of the full range of archaeometallurgical artifacts found within a massive matrix of ash strongly suggest that Locus 244 was a primary production zone. Following Costin’s (1991) terminology, Locus 244 should be interpreted as the remains of a nucleated workshop, while the term community specialization may more accurately describe the other, smaller production stations.

The Village Workshop: Site Level Analysis Having discussed several specific loci in greater detail, we shall now attempt to reconstruct the community of copper producers by examining the distribution of archaeometallurgical remains throughout the site. We will proceed based on the model for specialized production outlined in the previous chapter, using specific sets of indices and parameters to detect and identify the various aspects of production. Production Localities: Ratio of Production Debris to Consumed Products. To begin, we must distinguish between those areas at Abu Matar that functioned as production zones and those where finished goods were consumed. It is immediately apparent that most loci with evidence for production at Abu Matar had little or no finished copper artifacts. Crucibles, furnace walls, and ore representing evidence for production were present in Loci 244, 218, and 210 (Figs 7.15-16 and 7.19); significant quantities of slag have been found only in Locus 244 (the context



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Distribution of furnace remains by locus

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0 locus Figure 7.15 Distribution of furnace remains at Abu Matar according to the volume of artifacts (measured by weight in grams) found in each locus.

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0 locus Figure 7.16 Distribution of crucible remains at Abu Matar according to the volume of artifacts (measured by weight in grams) found in each locus.

128 dawn of the metal age labeled c.B3 is part of locus 244; Fig. 7.19), yet, there is no evidence for finished copper goods in any of these contexts. At the same time, finished goods were generally found independently of evidence for production, for instance, Locus 119 of Level IIa, which had a small deposit of finished copper goods was devoid of any evidence for production (Perrot 1955). In fact, the ratio of production debris to consumable goods for the site as a whole strongly favors that production as opposed to use of finished copper goods. While this could indicate that at least some of the copper was produced for ‘export’, we must bear in mind that metal was probably recycled rather frequently. There is also the question of primary versus secondary contexts; in other words, whether the archaeometallurgical remains represent shops/work areas where production occurred, or refuse areas used for the discard of byproducts and exhausted tools. The simultaneous occurrence of hardware such as crucibles and furnaces walls, in addition to byproducts such as slag and ash, all lead to the conclusion that Locus 244, as well as several other loci, were indeed primary archaeological contexts where production had been carried out. Context. Archaeometallurgical remains have mainly been found in two distinct types of contexts at Abu Matar. On the one hand, there is evidence for metallurgy in small, domestic structures and in subterranean rooms, which may or may not have served as dwellings. The majority of archaeometallurgical finds, however, derive from the large and clearly distinct workshop area, Locus 244. Context, as it is used here, is understood as a way of characterizing the degree to which production was conducted by smiths working independently, or conversely, smiths bound to social institutions (Earle 1991; Costin 1991). But in both the case of the household workstation and the larger community workshop at Abu Matar, there was no clear evidence to suggest that any particular sociopolitical entity played a significant role in production; in other words, despite apparent differences in size and scale, both industries appear to have involved independent specialists. Hopefully, as more evidence for the production of complex metal castings is discovered, we will learn more about attached specialization during the Chalcolithic, and whether local metalworkers were producing luxury goods. Generally speaking, independent specialists are more likely to produce utilitarian goods such as those consumed by local households. This appears to be the case with both the smaller production locales at Abu Matar and the larger workshop (L. 244). The scientific analysis of the artifacts from Locus 244 demonstrates that only ‘pure’ copper was processed here and the same is true for all other loci excavated by Perrot (1955). Examining Table 7.1, we may note that none of the slag from these contexts contained components associated with complex metals (e.g. arsenic and antimony). The relative purity of the metallic copper can be observed in Tables 7.8 and 7.9. New data from other portions of the site suggest there was up to 1% of arsenic in some of the copper, but, as discussed above, it is doubtful that this could account for the much higher levels of both arsenic and antinomy typically found in complex metals, and thus this material should still be regarded as ‘pure’. Concentration. The term concentration, as it is employed in this model, refers to the degree to which production activities were focused in any one particular area. A high concentration of production debris should usually be accompanied by an overall increase in archaeometallurgical evidence, but it is important to distinguish between shifts in the organization of production and overall changes in the amount of production. In other words, a decline in the frequency of archaeometallurgical remains in some locales may simply reflect an overall decline in production activities, while an increase of evidence for production coupled with a decrease in the number of production locales would indicate that production has become aggregated.



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During the final phase of occupation at Abu Matar a sharp decrease in the number of production locales was accompanied by a dramatic increase in overall evidence for production. This pattern can be observed in Figures 7.17 and 7.18. In the earliest levels, evidence for production was distributed fairly evenly across the site, with small clusters of artifacts found in households or small subterranean structures. By the final phase of occupation, metallurgical activities had increased considerably while becoming concentrated in one area, Locus 244. It is difficult to discern specific changes between Perrot’s (1955) phases I and II, as the second phase is not well represented archaeologically, but one thing is clear: the highest concentrations of archaeometallurgical remains derive from the latest phase, Perrot’s phase III. For example, in Figure 7.17, which shows the distribution of smelting installations, it is clear that the majority of furnaces found during Perrot’s excavations derive from loci that he regarded as late. In the earlier phase, evidence for furnace use was distributed throughout the site, found in at least ten different loci. But by the later phase all evidence for furnaces was concentrated in one area, Locus 244. We know that this does not represent an overall decline in metallurgical activities at the site, but quite the contrary; examining Fig. 7.17 we observe that the total volume of furnace remains increased by more than 400%. This model for change within the local industry is, of course, contingent upon acceptance of the chronological sequence as proposed by Perrot. Yet, as noted already, the more recent excavations at Abu Mater have produced evidence that suggests a different sequence for another part of the site, known as Miftan. Shugar (2000) has argued that melting and re-melting activities there took place in the subterranean rooms, while smelting was carried out on the surface. If indeed this is the case, we must consider a different scenario for the large above ground workshop, Locus 244. It could be the case that the Locus 244 functioned as a foundry of sorts, producing ‘raw’ metal for individuals who would then use it to fashion their own goods as needed. Alternatively, Locus 244 could have served as a common area where smelting installations were available for use by multiple villagers. It is not clear, however, that this separation of tasks according to above ground and subterranean stations as proposed by Shugar (2000) applies to the portion of the site excavated by Perrot (1955), as furnace fragments have in some instances been found in the subterranean rooms. It is true that conditions for smelting beneath ground would have been less than ideal and such artifacts may have been there in secondary context. If we do accept Perrot’s reconstruction, whereby Locus 244 represents a later phase, this would demonstrate a shift from household production to a centralized workshop, a process termed nucleation by (Costin 1991), meaning that metallurgical activities at the site became more concentrated over time. According to this scenario, the villagers of Abu Matar were at first conducting simple operations in individual workshops, perhaps within the context of the household, most likely in the courtyard of their home. At this stage, crucibles were much more common than furnaces, raising questions about whether the latter were a secondary development, which would also imply that early on much of the smelting was carried out in crucibles. There are some advantages to using a crucible for smelting; for instance, the smaller vessels could be heated with the aid of blowpipes and two or three sets of lungs. In addition, less fuel would be needed, and thus, crucible smelting might be more efficient for small-scale production. On the other hand, experimental work involving crucibles (Tylecote 1974) suggests that this was not the most effective means for smelting copper, and this is particularly true for the type of sulphidic copper ores that were sometimes used by the Chalcolithic metalworkers (Shugar 2000). In either event, later in the history of the village, production became more efficient and more concentrated. It is possible that people decided to pool their efforts and resources in order to capitalize on economies of scale, or perhaps, as the more efficient and effective furnaces came into use the smaller operations were driven ‘out of business’. The development of simple furnace

130 dawn of the metal age

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Figure 7.17 Chart depicting the frequency of smelting furnaces during the different phases of occupation at Abu Matar. Note there is some uncertainty regarding the three-phase and two-phase stratigraphic sequence, yet it is still clear that a major increase in the use of smelting installations occurred as time went on.

10

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Figure 7.18 The number of loci with furnace remains. While furnaces appear to be in operation at ten different production loci in the earliest phase at Abu Matar, by the later period of occupation, furnaces are found at but one locus, the workshop, Locus 244. Moreover, this concentration of smelting facilities is matched by a marked increase in the evidence for furnace use overall, as seen in Fig. 7.17.



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technology itself seems to reflect this trend toward nucleation. In other words, more copper was being produced in one place at one time, both in terms of physical location and with a technique that allowed for greater volume of production (see below). Thus, we have several different possibilities for explaining the evolution of copper technology and the organization of production at Abu Matar, and it is critical that some of these issues concerning the sequence of occupation be resolved before we can assess which model better fits the data. Scale. In order to determine the scale of production, we must continue to ask questions about the overall volume of production and the cost-efficiency of production strategies. In other words, how large was the industry and how complex was their production system? Implementing production strategies inevitably involves decisions on the part of the craftsperson or shop, and a number of critical factors, such as the level of demand and the availability of raw materials, are always important considerations. The decision to shift production strategies involves a technological choice, and how to go about implementing new strategies involves a number of logistical problems. At Abu Matar, several patterns relating to changes in the scale of production are apparent. For one, the increased concentration of archaeometallurgical remains as discussed above also reflects an increase in scale. In other words, the decision to pool resources may reflect a strategy based on improved cost-efficiency and/or a perceived need to meet greater demand for copper. The increased reliance on furnace technology itself may represent an increase in the scale of production. The furnace installations, of course, are larger and had greater potential for the yield of metal with each smelt. And although running a furnace may require more fuel and more labor, the marginal returns of copper won would show an exponential increase. While it stands to reason that an increase in demand for copper could have brought about the switch to furnace technology, it is difficult to establish archaeologically that an increase in demand actually preceded the increase in the use of furnaces. Nonetheless, the substantial increase in the amount of slag, ore and crucibles found at the site, in addition to the development of furnace technology, all point to an increase in scale of production. Finally, we must also consider the size of the production zone itself. The earlier production areas are relatively small. Locus 218, a subterranean chamber, is roughly 12 sq m, not all of which was necessarily devoted to metallurgical activities. Locus 155, an oblong subterranean structure described as a dwelling (Perrot 1955:31) is 4.5 x 3.1 m, or roughly 14 sq m in size. Pits associated with metal production were found near the western wall of the structure, but again, it is not clear if the entire area was used for production. Locus 127 (depicted in Figure 7.14) is the largest of the early production zones, measuring 6.5 × 3.5 m, or roughly 23 sq m. A large portion of this area was occupied by silos, some of which were filled with ash that may have been generated by metallurgical activities. Two of these pits contained burials, one newborn and one adult (Perrot 1955:21). It is difficult to determine whether this was a dwelling, and what portion of the structure was dedicated to the craft. Clearly, Locus 244 was the largest production zone at Abu Matar and Perrot describes this as one of three ‘principal operation-centers’ at the site (1955:79).4 The work area of Locus 244 equals 8 × 6 m, or 48 sq m, with ash accumulation to a depth of almost one full meter. In addition, the location of Locus 244 at one of the highest points of the site, removed from the residential area, also lends support to the conclusion that this represents a distinct metallurgical workshop reserved specifically for this purpose. Intensity of Production. The intensity of production is an index for determining whether or not specialists worked full-time or part-time, although generally speaking, these are difficult to measure with archaeological evidence alone (White and Pigott 1996). The extent to which producers are

132 dawn of the metal age ‘attached’ may help provide an indication of full-time specialization (Costin 1991); for example, elites with control over production may be more likely to reinvest resources in expensive technologies and raw materials, in addition to supporting full-time workers. It may also be possible to detect an increase in the intensity of production if there is evidence for a division of labor, or rather, if production activities were focused to the extent that people specialized in specific tasks. It appears that in the earlier phases at Abu Matar, as at Shiqmim (Levy and Shalev 1989), production was carried out in a number of places, some of which were dwellings. Later, the area of Locus 244 was reserved exclusively for metallurgical production, which could reflect a shift from parttime to full-time specialization. As noted above, another way of studying craft specialization is to determine what portion of an artisan’s overall livelihood derived from craft production; however, doing so based solely on archaeological evidence is all but impossible. In the late prehistory of the southern Levant, many people still engaged primarily in subsistence production, namely farming and herding. Yet, it is clear from the level of mastery achieved that some people were able to devote a substantial amount of time to metallurgy, and the same is true for other crafts such as the production of fancy goods of ivory and basalt. An important question, therefore, is how fulltime or even part-time specialization was financed within the context of a village economy. Evidence for storage silos in the immediate vicinity of the metalworking zone, as in Locus 127, could suggest that surplus food, or staple wealth was used to support the full-time efforts of metalworkers. In some cases, such as in mainland southeast Asia (Bronson and Charoenwongsa 1986) and the Katanga of Congo (Rowlands 1972), extra-subsistence economic activities were restricted to certain seasons, hence specialization was practiced full-time, but only during part of the year. The climate of the northern Negev is today characterized by wet winters and dry summers, and probably followed a similar cycle in the past (Goldberg and Rosen 1987), with agricultural production focused largely on the floodplain adjacent to the wadis (Levy et al. 1991b). It is feasible therefore, that Chalcolithic craft specialization was partly seasonal, with non-subsistence production becoming more intensive during the dry season. Task Specialization. In certain industries, craftspeople can become increasingly specialized, often focusing on a specific task or stage of the process. For instance, the different steps in the copper production process may have been performed as distinct production stages, perhaps even in separate areas. Task specialization therefore also suggests that specialists could be working fulltime. One way to investigate this question is to compare the distribution of specific types of archaeometallurgical remains from different loci. For example, some loci may have high concentrations of one particular artifact, others lack that type completely, and still other loci contain the full range of archaeometallurgical remains. The concentration of one type might reflect the presence of a station for one specific task and, hence, a more structured division of labor, while a cross-section of all types indicates a more generalized shop. In Figure 7.19 data concerning the amount of slag and ore found in each locus are presented. In some cases, the sample size is not sufficiently large to yield reliable patterns; however, if differences in the relative amounts of artifact types can be interpreted as varying according to the specific tasks performed, several trends become apparent. For instance, Locus 218, just a few meters from the Locus 244 workshop, had the highest concentration of ore at the entire site, yet no evidence at all for slag (Fig. 7.20). And though a small installation with copper and charcoal was uncovered in Locus 218, the lack of slag strongly suggests that no smelting took place here. Furthermore, Perrot (1955:79) observed two large slabs of flint, interpreted as anvils for ore crushing, associated with this large quantity of ore. The rest of the archaeometallurgical assemblage from Locus 218 includes fragments of roughly four crucibles, but



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no furnace remains (Fig.  7.16). Therefore, it is likely that locus 218 represents a separate station for ore dressing, where activities were generally limited to this specific step in the process. In this case, the heating installation described by Perrot (1955) could have been used to heat-treat, or roast the ore in order to facilitate crushing in preparation for the smelt. The presence of crucibles implies that some pyrotechnological process was carried out, perhaps test smelting, but again, the lack of slag is conspicuous. It appears then that this semi-subterranean structure was used as a station for the preparation and perhaps storage of ore prior to its smelting in the adjacent workshop, Locus 244. It is therefore critical to consider the composition and nature of the ore assemblage from each particular context separately if the goal is to determine the specific task performed in each locus. So, while Locus 244 had a large assemblage of ores, the evidence for furnaces and slag (lacking from Locus 218) strongly suggests that these ores were there to be smelted (Figs 7.15 and 7.19). We see, therefore, that the ores in each locus may have been there for different reasons, i.e. while one concentration of ores represents storage and preparation, the other was for immediate consumption. In Figure 7.20, the ore assemblage from L.218 (solid line—Series 1), and 244 (dotted line— Series 2), have been divided into five size groups based on the weight of each piece of ore. The data for the composition of the assemblage are presented according to the percentage of ore pieces that fall into the different size groups. For example, in Locus 244, roughly one third (35%) of the ores weighed less than 5 g and almost none weighed over 20 g. In Locus 218 on the other hand, more than one third (35%) weighed between 10-20 g. This distribution according to the size of ore fragments suggests that those found in 218, which were generally larger, were stored there and perhaps prepared for smelting with some roasting and the crushing stone, i.e. a beneficiation

Figure 7.19 Distribution of slag and ore according to volume (measured by weight in grams) found in each locus.

134 dawn of the metal age Range of size for ore pieces 40

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Figure 7.20 This graph depicts the range of size in which ores are found in Locus 218 and 244; series 1 represents Locus 218, Series 2 represent Locus 244. Comparing the ore assemblage from each locus, it is apparent that the ores in Locus 244 are considerably smaller on the whole, suggesting that they may have been deliberately crushed prior to being brought to the workshop.

process. Once crushed, increasing the amount of surface area and reducing their overall size, the ore fragments were hauled over to Locus 244. The chunks of ore from both Locus 244 and 218 were rarely over 20 g (5-10%), which may suggest that ore was treated back at the mines prior to being brought to Abu Matar. It is possible, however, that this is merely a reflection of the size and structure of ores as they were found at the mines, or it may be a result of the ore extraction process. There is one example from Bir es-Safadi where one large block of ore weighing over 500 g was brought to the site, perhaps indicating a different mode of acquisition/transportation, but this artifact is but one unique example. As discussed earlier, much of this ore may have been collected from the ground as opposed to actually mined. This is suggested by the fact that ores found loose in the mining region today are often in the same form as those discovered archaeologically in the settlement. This is certainly true of the small, red cuprite nodules, which are virtually identical as they appear at the mines and the village. Most of the fragments of brecciated ores and the green malachite are fractured, but it is difficult to distinguish natural breaks from those that resulted from intentional chipping. Comparing all of the evidence from Locus 218 and Locus 244 at once, it is apparent that differentiated tasks were carried out in each area. Locus 244 represents the densest concentration of archaeometallurgical remains at the site with evidence for equipment in the way of crucibles and furnaces, raw material in the form of ore and byproducts in the way of slag, charcoal and ash. A considerable amount of ‘raw’ copper (283 g of copper prills intermixed with slag) was also found in Locus 244. As for Locus 218, it appears unlikely that any significant smelting was carried out there. There is little evidence in the way of equipment (perhaps the equivalent of one crucible but no furnace fragments), no byproducts (i.e. slag), and the raw material present was in a ‘less processed’ state.



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We should consider another, though less likely, scenario, which has Locus 218 as earlier than Locus 244. Locus 218, therefore, might represent a phase when limited, ‘slagless’ smelting was still carried out primarily in crucibles, and production was more generalized. If, on the other hand, we presume that these loci were contemporaneous, it would appear that Locus 218 was reserved for specific tasks such as ore storage and preparation, perhaps with limited test smelting, while Locus 244 was the major smelting station. Thus, we have evidence not for generalized production, but rather a clear division of tasks. Based on the proximity of these two loci to each other, it is feasible that together they represent a small workshop complex. It is also plausible, though virtually impossible to prove, that a nearby house was associated with this production zone, perhaps it was even the home of a family who ran the furnaces, producing copper for much of the village (i.e. an independent, kin-based workshop), a point we will explore below.

Evidence from Recent Excavations at Abu Matar As noted already (see Chapter 3), excavations have been carried out at Abu Matar subsequent to Perrot’s (1955) excavations (Gilead et al. 1991). The evidence for metallurgy is summarized briefly here (for an extensive discussion of this evidence, see Shugar 2001). Excavations in Area A have produced extensive evidence for metallurgical activities, including some 475 g of slag, 955 g of crucible fragments, about 980g of furnace fragments, 181 g of ore and 12 hammerstones, along with scatters of ash and charcoal. An in situ furnace was excavated in Area A, and analysis of charcoal samples retrieved from the base of a furnace yielded a date of ca. 4200–4000 bc. Metallurgical remains were found scattered across square M, with a dense concentration of finds in one particular spot (Sq. L16-15), which included seven hammerstones, roughly 600 g of ore, some 90 crucible fragments, and some 30 furnace fragments (about 1 kg). The roughly 1.2 kg of slag represents the highest concentration of slag at the site. Evidence of metal production has also been found in houses j-15 and j-12, confirming the importance of household production. In Area B, some 600 g of slag were found in a pit without any evidence for furnaces or crucibles, perhaps representing a dump for refuse, though eight large chunks of ore weighing a total of about 600 g, were also found in this excavation unit. Based on analysis of this material from Abu Matar, Shugar (2001) has identified four types of copper based ore, three of which were determined to come from the Faynan mining region. The fourth type is posited to originate in Anatolia, based on similarities in lead isotope ratio, geographical proximity, and evidence for regional contact. Lead isotope data indicate that the alternative source for this fourth ore type identified at Abu Matar was in central and north central Anatolia, perhaps Kaman-Kalehoyuk and mines around the central Black Sea (Shugar 2000:178). The finds from these more recent excavations provide critical confirmation for many of the assertions about the technical aspects of Chalcolithic copper production made here, while inevitably raising some important new questions (it is strongly suggested that any reader particularly interested in technical dimensions of Chalcolithic metallurgy refer to Shugar’s thorough and extensive dissertation research). These finds also demonstrate that metallurgical activities at Abu Matar were far more extensive than previously thought. The newer evidence also suggests that household production went on throughout the site, while there were indeed several large workshops, though it is not clear that all were in operation at the same time.

Summary of Evidence In this chapter, we have attempted to reconstruct the organization of copper production within the context of a single Chalcolithic village, Abu Matar. Applying the model outlined in Chapter 6, we have been able to draw from the archaeometallurgical assemblage specific information

136 dawn of the metal age about the dynamics of production within this community. Following Perrot’s (1955) proposed sequence of occupation at the site, we have also been able to observe patterns of change over time. To begin, it appears that the inhabitants of Abu Matar arrived already knowledgeable about metallurgical technology, as several of the earliest loci at the site have evidence for copper production. During this initial phase of occupation, metallurgical activity was limited and often associated with domestic contexts, suggesting independent specialization, or household industries. In the latest phase of occupation, there was a dramatic increase in overall metallurgical activities, matched by a reduction in the number of localities where production was practiced. This indicates that the industry became more focused, or nucleated, as one large workshop (Locus 244) emerged as the center for metallurgical production. Overall, pronounced shifts in scale, concentration, and intensity all reflect the evolution of metallurgical production as a specialized craft at Abu Matar. Metallurgical workshops or stations have also been found in Area A and Area M (Shugar 2001; Gilead et al. 1991), though their relation to Locus 244 is not clear. We must keep in mind certain questions regarding the sequence of occupation at Abu Matar, particularly the amount of time that should be allotted to each phase of occupation and the types of transitions between them. Nevertheless, there is clearly a heavy concentration of evidence for production in Locus 244, and even if we cannot know with certainty whether this was early or late, it is clear that copper production had reached a relatively complex level in terms of technology and the organization of production. It may also be possible to distinguish between the different tasks performed at different workshops. For instance, while the large workshop of Locus 244 was devoted to the smelting, melting, and probably casting of ‘pure’ copper, Locus 218 appears to have been the designated ore prep station. Traces of arsenic found in some of the copper (Area A and Area M) suggest that different materials may have been handled at different parts of the site (Shugar 2001). The continued discovery of the ‘pure’ copper or copper with trace amounts of other elements (As), along with the ‘negative evidence’ for the production of complex metal castings, implies that there existed another workshop, capable of producing specialized luxury goods, elsewhere in the region. We may now turn our attention to the final stage of the metallurgical process, the handling of metallic copper and the production of finished goods. This includes both the casting of metal and a variety of techniques, namely hammering, annealing, and polishing, employed for finishing goods. Considering the archaeometallurgical evidence discussed thus far, several questions immediately come to mind: were entirely different techniques used to make the two distinct classes of metal, ‘pure’ copper and complex metals, or was there substantial overlap? This also raises questions about the perception of materials and the process by which the technician’s choices are made; in other words, the extent to which differences in materials were recognized, and why certain materials were selected or not. Factors such as cost and demand probably came into play, but how? Important new finds pertaining to this problem have recently come to light, while examination of previously discovered artifacts goes on. These newest discoveries and most recent research will be discussed here in the context of these broader social and technological issues.

The Perception of Materials One of the many fascinating paradoxes inherent in archaeology and the study of past cultures concerns the differences between the peoples of the past and the people today who study them, in terms of their perception of the natural world. In other words, we, the archaeologists who study these artifacts, see things differently than the ancient person, who experienced them in a variety of ways. Our concept of metal, for instance, is informed by our knowledge of chemistry,



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the periodic table of the elements, atomic weight, and so forth. The ancient metalsmiths did not have a concept of modern chemistry, and thus their understanding of metals at the most basic level would have varied from ours. It is difficult to know precisely why certain materials were selected by the Chalcolithic ancient metalworkers and others were not. Which of the various properties— color, hardness, and fluidity—were more important to the ancient metalworkers? The substantial levels of arsenic and antimony (and to a lesser extent nickel) in the complex metals confer upon them a number of properties not found in the ‘pure’ copper. For one, complex metals generally have a greater hardness, which is even further increased with hammering; experimental work has shown that with the addition of some 8% As, cold-worked copper will have a greatly increased hardness as there is a reduction in thickness (Maréchal 1958). But it is unclear how important hardness was with regard to some of the decorative complex metal castings (e.g. standards), and it would thus seem ironic that the ‘utilitarian’ items (e.g. axeheads and chisels), which would have benefited greatly from increased hardness, were made from the much softer ‘pure’ copper. In fact, as has often been noted, ‘tools’ made of this soft, ‘pure’ copper would have hardly been ‘functional’ at all. The composition of the metal also influences its malleability and ductility, which determine whether the metal can be successfully deformed through hammering. While ‘pure’ copper is a relatively brittle metal that is more likely to fracture when hammered, these ‘natural alloys’ (e.g. with an arsenical content of even 2%) have greater ductility and are more resistant to fracturing, both characteristics that would have been easily observed by the ancient metalworkers. The complex metals thus would have been excellent for the manufacture of decorative items, and indeed, many of the artifacts from the Nahal Mishmar hoard were hammered and polished after casting (Tadmor et al. 1995). Yet again, despite the advantages that using this material would have had for making ‘utilitarian’ items, the material was not exploited for this purpose. One property of the complex metals that certainly would not have gone unnoticed by the Chalcolithic smiths is the color of the metal. The complex metals, with hues ranging from gray and silver to bronze, clearly differ from the more yellow-orange shades of the ‘pure’ copper. Looking at metal industries outside of ancient Israel for parallels, color, in fact, appears to have been one of the primary factors in the selection of materials. In the production of Irish halberds, for instance, the deliberate selection of higher arsenic metal was made largely on the basis of its appearance (Northover 1989:117). In the West Mexican metal industries studied by Hosler (1995:102), alloying elements were added in concentrations of up to 23%, levels that dramatically alter the color of the metal, yet are far higher than necessary for the purpose of optimizing artifact design and mechanical function. Different formulae were used for making items such as metal cymbals and bells, resulting in a variety of colors. The artifacts of different colors could be coordinated with tropical bird feathers arranged in such as way as to create an effect called ‘the shimmering garden’. In this case, the resilience of the metal’s surface would also be a factor. Of course, one of the most important properties of the complex metals is the increased fluidity of the metal when in the molten state, a property that allows for superior casting. The melting point of arsenic, 613º C, is considerably lower than that of ‘pure’ copper, and is even lower for arsenic trioxide (As2O3). The addition of arsenic to copper, therefore, reduces the overall melting temperature of the metal, resulting in greater fluidity at lower temperatures. The same is true of metals with a significant level of antimony. The complex metals, with high levels of both or either of these elements, were used for the purpose of casting intricate designs, and clearly the increased fluidity was one of the properties targeted in the selection of this material. Moorey explains the advantages of this technology, saying that with this method the artisan is free from any restraint arising in the negative nature of the mould, ‘for the pattern does not have to be withdrawn and the mold surfaces, however contorted, reflect all the details of the wax and do not have to be accessible to further tooling’ (1994:250).

138 dawn of the metal age There are other properties, unique to complex metals that may also have been recognized by the ancient smiths, though it may not immediately apparent to the archaeologist. For example, in addition to the ability to manipulate the appearance of the material (e.g. color, luster), metalworkers in West Mexico chose certain metals when manufacturing bells specifically for the various sounds they produced when struck (Hosler 1995). Lahiri (1995), studying the metal industries of ancient India supplements metallurgical data with historical and ethnographic information to demonstrate that ‘pure’ copper was, in many cases, held in higher esteem than alloys which were viewed as additives used to ‘stretch’ the material. Thus, there are a number of potential properties inherent to the different materials that were attractive to the Chalcolithic metalworkers. The question still remains as to why complex metals were generally not employed in the manufacture of ‘utilitarian’ goods when using complex metals for their manufacture would have greatly increased their quality; this is particularly true of the potential for increased hardness (Tadmor et al. 1995).

The Discovery of Complex Metals Whether or not the use of complex metals was a secondary development coming after the initial use of ‘pure’ copper is an intriguing question; in other words, does the evidence reflect a progression from a simpler to more complex technology? There are some indications—for instance, the metal assemblage from Ghassul (see Chapter 2)—that ‘pure’ copper artifacts came first, and on the whole, dates for the complex metal castings generally tend to be later in the Chalcolithic. Regardless of whether there was such a trajectory, the complex metals must be recognized as a separate branch of metallurgical technology since it involved not only different material, but different techniques as well. One of the key questions, therefore, is how an awareness of complex metals and recognition of their distinct properties first came about. As noted already, it is possible that ores with significant arsenic and/or antimony content, the so-called ‘natural alloys’, were exploited by the ancient metalworkers, or did they need to mix distinct materials (we will return to the question of ores below). As for how this material was discovered in the first place, Rostoker and Dvorak (1991) have argued that the development of alloying technology was an inevitable development, which simply followed the structure of the mine: the types of ores (e.g. sulfidic ores) more likely to be rich in arsenic usually occur deeper in an ore deposit. The secondary enrichment zone in an ore deposit contains the highest concentrations of copper minerals, which have washed down from the surface of the ore body—the gossan cap and oxidized zone. Likewise, arsenic and antimony are relatively soluble, and are therefore more likely to occur in high concentrations in the secondary enrichment zone as well. In some regions (e.g. Anatolia and Iran), native copper, which is found in the upper levels of certain ore deposits, was the first metal used, even prior to the advent of smelting technology. Thus it is possible that a Cu to Cu-As sequence of technological development was in some ways dictated, or at least guided by the nature of the deposit itself (Rostoker and Dvorak 1991). At the same time, several researchers (Stech 1992; Muhly 1992) have made the point that if ores containing several metallic elements were intentionally selected to produce a certain desired effect, this must be recognized as the deliberate manipulation of materials. To better understand this problem, we must first consider several issues concerning the acquisition of raw materials. We may begin with the question of what it was that was actually being acquired, or rather, in what form the metal came to the southern Levant: unprocessed ore, ‘raw’ metal, or finished goods? Based on all the archaeological evidence pertaining to this problem, it appears increasingly unlikely that the complex metal castings actually came into the southern Levant as finished imports. As for the import of ores, there are two possibilities: that ores with



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139

arsenic and/or antimony occurring naturally in certain deposits outside of the southern Levant were imported into the region, or, that ‘pure’ copper ores were intentionally co-smelted with these as separate minerals (Shugar 2001). It is also possible that naturally occurring arsenic-rich ores (e.g. orpiment and realgar) were deliberately added to the smelting mix under controlled circumstances (Charles 1967; Moorey and Schweizer 1972; Moorey 1994; Shugar 2001). And while this is certainly feasible, there is no evidence from the region to support this seemingly unlikely scenario. Furthermore, the inconsistency in formulae for the metals used also seems to indicate that the additional non-copper elements derived directly from the ores, since it would be easier to control the proportions if each element were added separately. Based on their study of material from the Nahal Mishmar hoard, Tadmor et al. (1995:130–1) have concluded that it is unlikely these non-copper elements were added as distinct materials. Rather, they suggest that some form of fahlerz (see below) was used. In other words, elements such as arsenic and antimony were not intentionally added to the metal, but rather were all found together in a single, naturally occurring ore body. Where ores bearing copper and arsenic and antimony (i.e. complex metals) are concerned, there are three major types of ores that have the potential for yielding such material: 1) tetrahedrite (solid solutions)—(CuFe)12Sb4 S13 2) tennanite (CuFe)12As4 S13 3) ‘falherz’, a solid solution between tetrahedrite and tennanite, composed of copperarsenic-antimony sulfides—(CuFe)12(AsSb)4 S13. We may speculate that ores of this type were selected for smelting by the ancient metalworkers because they recognized that these ores could produce metals with the desired properties. It is also likely, however, that in many cases the different types of ores that fall into this category could not be distinguished from each other, resulting in the variability that can be observed in the end products. But to date, no ores containing significant amounts of arsenic and/or antimony, nor nickel in any form have been found in the southern Levant. ‘Pure’ copper ores, on the other hand, are relatively abundant, thus making it appear unlikely that any complex metals came to the region as raw material in the form of ore. Another possibility—the one actually favored here—is that the material was imported to the southern Levant not as ore at all, but rather in metallic form. There are some indications that this may well have been the case. We will now discuss some of the more recent evidence relating to the production of complex metals, including several artifacts published for the first time here.

Analysis of Copper Artifacts Searching through the archaeometallurgical remains from Bir es-Safadi, one artifact stands out as particularly unique: a small rectangular object (BES 1865) which is roughly 2 × 3 cm with a width of 1 cm tapering to 0.5 cm to form a wedge shape (Fig. 7.21a and b), and weighing roughly 36 g. Discovered more than 50 years ago at Bir es-Safadi, the metal had not been analyzed until recently. The artifact is heavily corroded, with a thick layer of copper chlorides forming on the surface and penetrating into and ‘replacing’ the original metal (Fig. 7.22). Despite the generally poor state of preservation, it is still possible to approximate the original shape of the object when examining the section seen in Figure 7.22. This section, in fact, reveals that the tapered end is rounded, reducing the chances that it was intended for use as a functional tool.

140 dawn of the metal age

a

b

Figure 7.21 a) Photograph of metal artifact, possibly an ingot from Bir es-Safadi (BES 1865) (J. Golden); b) drawing of artifact (BES 1865) (J. Golden).



Copper Production at Abu Matar

Figure 7.22 Photograph of metal artifact (BES 1865), possibly an ingot, from Bir es-Safadi, section. (J. Golden).

141

142 dawn of the metal age

a

b Figure 7.23 Photomicrographs of ‘ingot’ from Bir es-Safadi (BES 1865): a) 55× magnification; and b) 200× magnification. Using optical microscope (20×), it is possible to discern the original shape prior to the effects of corrosion. Note the residual dendritic structure in 7.23a and the ‘coring’ effect from polymetallic phases (Cu-Sb-As) and the appearance of annealing twins (center) evident in 7.23b.



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The metallographic study of the metal (examining a mounted, polished sample from the artifact under an optical microscope) reveals the artifact’s micro-structure and thereby information about the metal’s history; polaroid photo-micrographs are shown in Figure 7.23a and b. The ‘ghost’ of a cast dendritic structure can be clearly seen in Figure 7.23a. At a higher magnification shown in Figure 7.23b, annealing twins can also be observed, indicating that the artifact was re-heated subsequent to casting, although probably for a short time or at a low temperature. The annealing twins appear to be slightly deformed, but any hammering, either cold-working or after annealing, could not have been extensive. The metallographic examination of BES 1865 (also called ‘Ingot A’ below) has also yielded information about the structural composition of the metal. In Figure 7.23b, the more copper-rich (light area) dendritic arm is surrounded by a ternary alloy phase of Cu with varying amounts of Sb and As (dark gray borders). This ‘coring’ effect is characteristic of an ‘alloyed’ or multi-component metallic structure. Beads of metallic lead are also visible. Chemical analyses of BES 1865 have been undertaken in order to determine the composition of the metal. Spot analysis using PIXE (Proton Induced X-ray Emissions) has been conducted on two points of the mounted sample discussed above; the results of both probes are displayed in Table 7.2, where the values for both spot analyses BES 1865 are presented as ‘Ingot A’. The results of these analyses reveal that the composition of the metal is somewhat unique. The artifact had a high content not only of antimony (2.4 and 4%), arsenic (0.7 and 0.9%), but of lead as well (1.2 and 2%). Levels of Ag and S are also rather high. It is interesting to note that Ingot A (BES 1865) has a ratio of antimony to arsenic of 3.35:1, roughly 3 times the amount of Sb over As. A number of artifacts from the Nahal Mishmar hoard and other sites have a similar composition in terms of the high As and Sb content (see Tables 7.2, 7.3 and 7.4), but proportions of one to the other tend to be inconsistent (Tadmor et al. 1995).

Figure 7.24 Drawing of metal artifact, possibly an ingot, from Shiqmim BA52 (J. Golden).

144 dawn of the metal age

Figure 7.25 Disc-shaped macehead from Shiqmim (Sq. B.248) (J. Golden).

Based on the rectangular, yet apparently ‘non-functional’ shape of this artifact, as well as its chemical composition, it might be inferred that BES 1865 represents some form of ingot. There are no parallels for this artifact form in the ‘utilitarian’ assemblage or in and the metal was cast, with only minor subsequent hammering. Furthermore, tool-shaped objects are generally fashioned exclusively from ‘pure’ copper (Tadmor et al. 1995:136). Nor does this artifact resemble anything from the corpus of known complex metal castings, and it does not appear to represent a fragment of some finished form. It does, however, have a composition comparable to the complex metal castings and could help explain how these rare metals were brought into the Beer Sheva region, ultimately to be used by local smiths. Cu

As

Sn

Fe

S

Pb

Ag

Ni

Sb

Cl

Sq B248 macehead

80.35

3.659

.105

.059

.122

.214

.847

.154

11.65

.506

BES 1865 ingot A

94.2

.733

.043

.065

.146

1.234

.223

.067

2.374

.011

BES 1865 ingot A

91.9

.876

.046

.054

.391

1.98

.318

.070

3.03

.153

Sq A52 ingot B

98.57

.016

.027

.077

.026

.058

.021

.167

.043

.037

Sq A52 ingot B

98.61

.017

.031

.056

.029

.062

.025

.096

.049

.036

Table 7.2 Chemical composition of the ‘disc’-shaped macehead from Shiqmim (Sq B248), and ‘ingots’—one from Shiqmim (Sq A52-Ingot A) and one from Bir es-Safadi (BES 1865—ingot B); two samples from each artifact (PIXE, MASCA).



Copper Production at Abu Matar Cu

Sb

As

Sn

Fe

S

Pb

Ag

145

Ni

piriform macehead

-

2.73

1.52

0.01

0.05

-

0.33

0.10

0.12

Disc-shaped macehead SQ B.248

83.3

10.1

4.34