Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism: Death in the Anasazi culture of the American southwest 9781407309743, 9781407339528

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism Death in the Anasazi culture of the American southwest

John D. Cater

BAR International Series 2382 2012

Published in 2016 by BAR Publishing, Oxford BAR International Series 2382 Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism © J D Cater and the Publisher 2012 The author's moral rights under the 1988 UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act are hereby expressly asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied, reproduced, stored, sold, distributed, scanned, saved in any form of digital format or transmitted in any form digitally, without the written permission of the Publisher.

ISBN 9781407309743 paperback ISBN 9781407339528 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407309743 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library BAR Publishing is the trading name of British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd. British Archaeological Reports was first incorporated in 1974 to publish the BAR Series, International and British. In 1992 Hadrian Books Ltd became part of the BAR group. This volume was originally published by Archaeopress in conjunction with British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd / Hadrian Books Ltd, the Series principal publisher, in 2012. This present volume is published by BAR Publishing, 2016.

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Table of Contents

Table of Contents List of Figures����������������������������������������������������������������� ii

Site Basic and Site Specific�������������������������������������47 Environment and Population������������������������������������47 Combinations of Data Fields������������������������������������47 Database 2: Specific Variable Studies�������������������������47 Introduction to Statistical Testing��������������������������������48 Two-Step Cluster Analysis���������������������������������������48 Chi-Square for Goodness of Fit�������������������������������48 Summary of Tests�����������������������������������������������������48 Final Cluster Analysis��������������������������������������������������48 Measures of Significance: Individual Variables����������49 Evaluation of Data�������������������������������������������������������49 Limitations of Approach and Data Problems��������������49 Spatial and Temporal Analysis������������������������������������49

List of Tables�������������������������������������������������������������������iv Abstract����������������������������������������������������������������������������v Chapter 1: Introduction�������������������������������������������������1 Who Were the Anasazi?�������������������������������������������������1 Research Question and Problem Statement�������������������3 Subordinate Questions�����������������������������������������������4 Summary of Methodology���������������������������������������������4 Study Population�����������������������������������������������������������4 Organization������������������������������������������������������������������5 Need for the Study���������������������������������������������������������5 Problems with Data Access and Data Collection����������6

Chapter 5: Results���������������������������������������������������������51 DB1: Results of Analysis���������������������������������������������51 Non-Trauma Articulated (NTA)�������������������������������51 NTA Age and Sex���������������������������������������������51 NTA Body Position and Grave Type����������������53 Summary of NTA Study Population�����������������56 DB1 Trauma and Disarticulation Population (TD)����������������������������������������������������57 DB1 Skeletal Trauma���������������������������������������61 DB1 Trauma Population Body Position�����������63 DB1 Trauma Population Grave Type���������������63 DB1 Trauma Population Artifact Association����������������������������������������65 DB1 Trauma Population Feature, Structure, and Site Abandonment�������������������66 DB1 Disarticulated Population��������������������������������67 DB1 Disarticulated Population Age and Sex����69 DB1 Disarticulated Population Temporal Distribution�������������������������������������69 DB1 Disarticulated Population and Grave Type�����������������������������������������������70 DB1 Disarticulated Population Grave Goods and Structural Abandonment���������������������72 DB1 Combined Population Comparison����������73 Summary of TD Study Population�������������������75 Database 2 and Statistical Results�������������������������������75 Results of Initial Cluster Analysis�������������������������������77 Changes in Population Totals�����������������������������������77 Individual Variable Analysis����������������������������������������77 DB2 Age and Sex�����������������������������������������������������77 DB2 Body Position��������������������������������������������������83 DB2 Grave Type�������������������������������������������������������87 DB2 Grave Goods����������������������������������������������������90 DB2 Burial Location������������������������������������������������91 DB2 Statistical Analysis Summary��������������������������92 A Bigger Picture: Temporal and Spatial Data�������������94 What Happened to the Anasazi: The Pueblo IV Period���������������������������������������������100

Chapter 2: Environment and Culture History�������������9 Introduction to the Environment�����������������������������������9 Paleoindian Adaptation (ca. 10,000 B.C.–5000 B.C.)������������������������������������10 Archaic Adaptation (5000 B.C.–ca. 300 B.C.)������������11 Anasazi Developmental Periods����������������������������������11 Basketmaker II (1000 B.C.–A.D. 500)��������������������12 Basketmaker III (A.D. 500–A.D. 700)���������������������14 Pueblo I (A.D. 700–A.D. 900)���������������������������������16 Pueblo II (A.D. 900–A.D. 1150)������������������������������19 Chacoan Development��������������������������������������19 Mesa Verde Development ��������������������������������19 Developments in the Kayenta Anasazi Area����22 Gallina Subculture Area�����������������������������������22 San Juan River Anasazi Developments������������22 Pueblo III (A.D. 1150–A.D. 1350)���������������������������22 Summary����������������������������������������������������������������������24 Chapter 3: History of Research�����������������������������������29 World Approaches to Prehistoric Violence������������������29 Processual Approaches to Violence�������������������������29 Postprocessual Approaches to Prehistoric Violence����������������������������������������������30 Postmodernism and Prehistoric Violence�����������������31 History of Research: The Anasazi�������������������������������32 Accounts of Anasazi Violence 1870–1945��������������34 Accounts of Anasazi Violence 1945–1965��������������36 Accounts of Anasazi Violence 1966–1995��������������37 Accounts of Anasazi Violence 1995–Present�����������37 Interpretations��������������������������������������������������������������39 Conclusion�������������������������������������������������������������������41 Chapter 4: Methods������������������������������������������������������45 Database 1: General Variable Studies��������������������������46 Skeletal���������������������������������������������������������������������46 Grave Type���������������������������������������������������������������46 Artifacts��������������������������������������������������������������������47

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

List of Figures

Chapter 6: Interpretations and Conclusions������������101 Answering the Research Questions���������������������������101 What Are the Patterns?����������������������������������������������101 Summary of Interpretations���������������������������������������102 Looking Beyond Patterns: Tying the Data to the Anthropology of Violence��������������������������������������102 Who are These Dead?: The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power, and Symbolism���102 Direction of Future Research�������������������������������������106 Concluding Statement�����������������������������������������������107

Figure 1. Sites discussed in this study...............................6 Figure 2. General landscape of the Anasazi culture area......................................................9 Figure 3. Mesa and mountain terrain of the northern Anasazi culture area....................................................10 Figure 4. The Anasazi culture area with subculture areas delineated.....................................................................12 Figure 5. Sketch of a typical Basketmaker II hamlet...... 13 Figure 6. Site LA 4257, a Basketmaker II site from northwest New Mexico................................................14 Figure 7. Sketch of a typical Basketmaker III hamlet.... 15 Figure 8. Site 5DL112, a Basketmaker III hamlet.......... 16 Figure 9. Sketch of a typical Pueblo I village................. 17 Figure 10. Portion of site 13, Alkali Ridge, a Pueblo I village............................................................18 Figure 11. Pueblo Bonito, Chaco Canyon. ..................... 20 Figure 12. Pueblo Bonito, Chaco Canyon...................... 20 Figure 13. Sketch of a Pueblo II habitation unit, Mesa Verde area........................................................... 21 Figure 14. Site 5MT2, a Pueblo II habitation.................23 Figure 15. Site 5MT3, Pueblo II pit structure (kiva)......24 Figure 16. Sketch of a cliff dwelling, Mesa Verde area........................................................... 25 Figure 17. Mug House, Mesa Verde National Park........ 26 Figure 18. Sketch of a Pueblo III village, Mesa Verde area........................................................... 27 Figure 19. Site 5MT5, Yellow Jacket, Mesa Verde area........................................................... 28 Figure 20. Trends in the study of Anasazi violence........ 40 Figure 21. Reference to total number of sites mentioning violence (five-year increments)................41 Figure 22. DB1 NTA age and sex distribution................ 52 Figure 23. Non-trauma flexed burial, site 5MT3.....................................................................52 Figure 24. DB1 NTA body position................................ 53 Figure 25. DB1 NTA grave type.....................................54 Figure 26. DB1 NTA grave type by sex..........................54 Figure 27. DB1 NTA age by grave type.........................55 Figure 28. DB1 NTA grave location by site...................55 Figure 29. DB1 NTA grave goods.................................. 56 Figure 30. NTA site abandonment in association with burials...............................................57 Figure 31. DB1 NTA structural roof burn/collapse following interment.....................................................57 Figure 32. DB1 trauma age range................................... 58

Acknowledgements�����������������������������������������������������109 References Cited���������������������������������������������������������� 111

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Table of Contents Figure 33. DB1 trauma by sex and age........................... 58 Figure 34. DB1 trauma population temporal distribution................................................... 59 Figure 35. DB1 distribution of sex by time.................... 60 Figure 36. DB1 trauma population, head trauma location............................................................ 61 Figure 37. DB1 male and female head trauma location............................................................ 62 Figure 38. Skull with severe perimortem trauma............ 63 Figure 39. DB1 trauma population, upper body trauma location........................................................................ 64 Figure 40. DB1 trauma population, lower body trauma location............................................................ 64 Figure 41. DB1 trauma population grave type and sex distribution...................................................... 65 Figure 42. DB1 temporal distribution of trauma population grave type..................................................66 Figure 43. DB1 trauma population grave type by time period......................................................67 Figure 44. DB1 trauma population structure and feature abandonment............................................. 68 Figure 45. DB1 trauma population structure roof burning and collapse............................................ 68 Figure 46. DB1 disarticulated population sex distribution............................................................ 69 Figure 47. DB1 disarticulation population age distribution................................................................... 70 Figure 48. DB1 disarticulation population totals through time.......................................................71 Figure 49. DB1 disarticulation population grave type and age distribution.................................... 72 Figure 50. DB1 disarticulation population grave type temporal distribution............................................ 73 Figure 51. DB1 disarticulation population grave location by temporal period...............................74 Figure 52. Disarticulated remains on pit structure floor, site 5MT3............................................74 Figure 53. DB1 disarticulation population and structure abandonment.......................................... 76 Figure 54. DB1 combined population temporal distribution................................................................... 76 Figure 55. DB2 population cluster size and distribution................................................................... 80 Figure 56. DB2 NTA and TD age frequencies................ 81 Figure 57. DB2 NTA and TD age chi-square value at 99.9 percentile................................................ 81 Figure 58. DB2 TD and NTA sex frequencies................82 Figure 60. DB2 body position frequency........................83 Figure 61. NTA flexed position burial............................ 84

Figure 62. This individual died traumatically but was not disarticulated............................................ 84 Figure 63. Disarticulated individuals on pit structure floor, site 5MT3........................................................... 85 Figure 64. DB2 body position chi-square value at the 99.9 percentile.................................................... 85 Figure 65. DB2 NTA and TD grave type distributions................................................................. 86 Figure 66. DB2 grave type chi-square value at the 99.9 percentile.................................................... 86 Figure 67. DB2 NTA and TD distribution of grave goods.............................................................88 Figure 68. DB2 grave goods chi-square value at the 99.9 percentile..........................................89 Figure 69. DB2 NTA and TD burial location frequencies..................................................... 90 Figure 70. DB2 burial location chi-square value at the 99.9 percentile..........................................93 Figure 71. Temporal distribution of TD and NTA clusters................................................................94 Figure 72. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Basketmaker II............................................................. 96 Figure 73. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Basketmaker III........................................................... 97 Figure 74. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Pueblo I........................................................................97 Figure 75. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Pueblo II......................................................................98 Figure 76. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Pueblo III.....................................................................99 Figure 77. Fortified site on isolated mesa (Hoot Owl Arroyo Pueblo, site 54-1)........................100

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

List of Tables Table 1. Anasazi Developmental Periods as Represented by the Pecos Classification..................... 13 Table 2. Anasazi Investigations Citing Reference to Violence Prior to A.D. 1900........................................ 35 Table 3. Anasazi Investigations Citing Reference to Violence, A.D. 1900–1920.......................................... 36 Table 4. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence to Violence, A.D. 1920–1940.......................................... 36 Table 5. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence of Violence, World War II............................................ 36 Table 6. Anasazi Investigations Citing Violence, World War II to the Height of the Vietnam War..........37 Table 7. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence of Violence at the Height of the Vietnam War.................38 Table 8. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence of Violence, End of Vietnam to 1995............................... 38

Table 9. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence of Violence, 1999 to Present............................................40 Table 10. Terminology Reference Guide........................ 51 Table 11. DB2 Combined Population Two-Step Clustering.................................................... 78 Table 12. DB2 Population Cluster Distribution..............78 Table 13. DB2 Age at Death........................................... 79 Table 14. Cluster Distribution for Sex............................ 79 Table 15. Body Position..................................................80 Table 16. DB2 Grave Type Distribution......................... 88 Table 17. DB2 NTA and TD Presence/Absence of Grave Goods............................................................ 92 Table 18. Burial Location within Site............................. 93

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Abstract

Abstract

ing trauma-related death to non-trauma-related death in the Anasazi culture. Specifically, this study seeks to identify patterns of behavior preserved in the archaeological record between those who died traumatically and those who did not among these prehistoric people. This goal is achieved by analyzing burial data from 1,803 individual burials and burial groups spatially and temporally, distributed across the Anasazi culture area. These human burials are placed within their specific archaeological context with regard to body position, grave type, the presence or absence of grave goods, and the location of the remains within any given archaeological site. Patterns identified through statistical analysis and contextual observation are discussed in terms of potential cultural meaning.

Cases of trauma-related violent death among the Anasazi culture of the American Southwest have been documented since the beginning of archaeological study in the region. Researchers have reported these deaths as having been caused through violent activities associated with warfare, cannibalism, witch execution, and violence against women. Although trauma-related death has been discussed cursorily for a long period of time, in recent years it has received much attention as a legitimate study in and of itself. Several books have been written that focus on the subjects of warfare and cannibalism among the Anasazi. This study seeks to further the inquiry into violent death by compar-

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

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For Sue and Joe-Ben

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Chapter 1 Introduction

Chapter 1 Introduction Vi-o-lence n. Force; vehemence; intensity; assault or outrage. Violent a. characterized by physical force, esp. improper force; forcible; furious; passionate —Webster’s Encyclopedia of Dictionaries Perhaps nothing in the human experience is as simultaneously attractive and repulsive as violence. It attracts our attention in all its forms; we cannot seem to get enough of the lurid details. Yet it is those very details, the things that draw our attention to the scene of the crime, which also repulse us, attack our senses on a primal level and, in various forms, a spiritual level. We are, perhaps, attracted to violence because at some level we understand that it has a place in the social relations of human beings, and that the synchronic events of this activity are a type of social relations between individuals and groups of individuals (Schröder and Schmidt 2001:1). At the same time we are repulsed by the destructive nature of these profane actions. We dislike the apparent random nature of violent acts. We see violence in the present as rampant, unstoppable, and not at all like the “old days” when people lived in peace with one another, neighbor aiding neighbor. This rose-colored view of the past is not new in human history and is as erroneous as it has always been (Carman 1997; Keeley 1996). The topic of this study is violence. More specifically, it focuses on the patterns and meaning of purposely inflicted trauma that took place among a prehistoric people in the American Southwest. The study of violence in past societies can aid in our understanding of how those societies functioned. Previous analyses of prehistoric violence (see, for example, Carman 1997; Carman and Harding 1999; Guilaine and Zammit 2005; Keeley 1996; Thorpe 2003) indicate that it was an integral part of socioeconomic and socioreligious activity. It often helped shape the society (Blok 2001; Gerard 1977; Guilaine and Zammit 2005:119–121). Violence had a broad effect such as through warfare, as well as narrow effects within specific sectors of society (e.g., racial and religious violence). As such, it helped define entire populations as well as group standing within those populations (Roksandic et al. 2006:340). The violent separation of subgroups within a single society can be seen as one important aspect of defining roles and place within societies. Just as is seen in the modern world, those who varied from their place in prehistory were often treated violently (Akins 1995; Bouroncle 2000; Bowman 2001; Darling 1995; Halbmayer 2001; Keeley 1996; Le Blanc 1999; Martin and Frayer 1997; Parker-Pearson and Thorpe 2005). Additionally, the study of prehistoric violence may identify the trigger points that caused violent activities (Cordell and Gummerman 2006:1–18). What makes a society or in-

dividuals within a society turn to violence is one of the key issues discussed in this book. Some of these reasons have been cited in the past (Keeley 1996; Le Blanc 1999; Martin and Frayer 1997; Novac 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Robb 1997; Scott 2001; Turner and Turner 1999; Walker 1997; Wilkenson 1997; Zimmerman 1997;) and include environmental shifts (dominance of resources), religious (one belief system pitted against another and ritual sacrifice), political (social growth through domination), and individual (domestic violence, vendetta, scapegoating). Violence may play a role in the creation or reforming of a society and, likewise, it may have a role in the demise of a society (Kuckelman 2002:233–253; Wilcox and Haas 1994:211–238). It likely had a role in the daily lives of prehistoric people. For instance, the mundane task of leaving the village boundary for water could have violent consequences according to Keeley (1996). As such, violence should be given voice along with the other aspects of society that are studied by archaeologists when defining societies and how people within them may have lived and died (Larsen 2002). This study is focused on the Anasazi, though the methodology applied could be used in the study of any prehistoric society. While the methodology has broader application, the study seeks to identify what violence can tell us about the Anasazi specifically. The sample is large as a result of a major search not only of the published data, but also of the gray literature found in cultural resource management reports. The unique approach of combining the bioarchaeological and material evidence allows an analysis of Anasazi violence that has not been attempted before. As will be shown through this contextual study, we may gain insight into the structure of Anasazi society, and how violence helped form, maintain, and contributed to the demise of the culture. Who Were the Anasazi? The Anasazi were a group of people occupying the northern portion of the American Southwest. The name was given to these ancient people by the Navajo and for many years was defined as “Ancient Ones” but a more correct translation is “Ancient Enemy.” In the past 10 years there has been a move to rename the group to “Ancestral Pueblo.” For the purpose of this study the original name is retained because it fills the previous literature that this study is based upon. The Anasazi are culturally distinct from contemporary prehistoric Southwestern populations such as the Mogollon and the Hohokam (Cordell and Gummerman 2006), as evidenced by distinct architectural forms and other material culture. Subgroups and regions are also identifiable within the Anasazi culture area based on subtle differences in material culture (Cordell 1979, 1984, 1997). The major subgroups in this study include the Mesa Verde, Chaco, Gallina, and Kayenta Anasazi. Each of these areas has a unique developmental sequence, but for the purpose

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

of this study a general date range for the entire Anasazi culture area is employed, ranging from 300 B.C. to A.D. 1350. This date range is more applicable to the Northern San Juan (e.g., Mesa Verde) than to the other areas but it is general enough to be useful in the application of the data discussed here.

cally killed individuals in nearby Polacca Wash. The Polacca Wash site retains at least 30 individuals, all of whom were dismembered around the time of death. The deposit has been dated to the period when Awotovi was destroyed. Although the link is tentative, Hopi legends do record the killing and dismemberment of some inhabitants of Awotovi after their capture (Turner and Morris 1970; Turner and Turner 1999).

Domesticated plants appear to have been introduced to the Southwest by 1050 B.C. (Wills 1988:149). By 300 B.C. the population of the region was beginning to rely on agriculture, which allowed for settled villages and the nascent development of the Anasazi culture (Cordell 1997:144– 145). By A.D. 1350, Anasazi society had broken down and the entire region was abandoned (Cordell 1997:365–366; Kuckelman 2002:252–253; Varien 2002:182–184; Wilcox and Haas 1994:211–238). As the Anasazi left their homeland they reformed with other, sometimes disparate, Anasazi groups around the Hopi Mesas of Arizona, and especially along the middle and lower Rio Grande River in New Mexico (Le Blanc 1999:229–232). These reformed groups also appear to have restructured their society with new religion, changes in architecture, and changes in material culture. These changes indicate that these people, defined temporally as Pueblo IV, were no longer Anasazi. Markers such as the beginning of settled lifeways and the later collapse of the society leading to regional abandonment serve as a guide for temporally bracketing analysis in a study such as this.

All who were capable of moving were compelled to travel or drag themselves till they came to the sandhills of Mi-con-o-vi and there the final disposition of the prisoners was made…. All the women who had song-prayers and were willing to teach them were spared and no children were designedly killed, but were divided among the villages, and most of them went to Mi-con-in-o-vi. The remainder of the prisoners, men and women, were again tortured and dismembered and left to die on the sand-hills, and there their bones are, and the place is called Mas’tco-mo [Turner and Turner 1999:190, 197]. Archaeological data suggest that there was similar violence in the prehistory of the region, including violence among the Anasazi. Although the focus is on a small group of people, it may be seen as an example of purposeful trauma among humans worldwide. Violence always has meaning. It always has voice, whether it is symbolic or literal (Blok 2001). It is approached in this study with the understanding that to illuminate patterns in the past, violent activity must be placed within the archaeological context in which it was first discovered. If patterns of violence are identified, then the potential meaning of these prehistoric actions may be addressed.

We are certain that there was violence among the Puebloans of the Southwest historically, as illustrated by Spanish documentation and Native American legend. Although there are many such examples, two are particularly graphic. The first example revolves around the eventual revolt of the Pueblos against the Spanish after 80 years of subjugation (Sando 1979:194). For the first time in those 80 years there was a pan-Puebloan unity and in A.D. 1680 it effectively drove the Spanish overlords from the Southwest. Germane to the current study is the documentation of Spanish deaths through this revolt. Fully 21 of 33 friars were killed, along with at least 400 other Spaniards (Sando 1979:196). The second event is actually related to the A.D. 1692 reoccupation of the Southwest by the Spanish. The Hopi village of Awatovi was the only village to return to Christianity after the Pueblo Revolt. Around the year A.D. 1700, the Hopi villages surrounding Awatovi attacked and completely destroyed the village. Unfortunately, many of the bodies recovered from the excavation disappeared or were not saved by the archaeologists (Turner and Turner 1999:69). Turner and Turner (1999) analyzed three of the bodies and found that all three had evidence of purposeful trauma to the bone and one individual retained evidence of perimortem cut marks. According to Hopi tradition, the men were all killed and many women and children taken captive (Brew 1979:522). Turner and Turner (1999:188– 200) argue that something more insidious happened to the women and children (and some men) of Awatovi. They make a tentative link between the events at Awatovi, the individuals taken prisoner, and a large deposit of traumati-

Alleged violence among the Anasazi has long been discussed in the archaeological literature, indeed since the beginnings of archaeological inquiry in the American Southwest (Holmes 1878; Jackson 1876; Newberry 1876). From early reports and until very recently, however, researchers have marginalized violent activities among the Anasazi. This subject has only generally been accepted as a legitimate field of study since the early 1990s and is now usually explained in terms of warfare, cannibalism, and witch execution (Bullock 1998; Darling 1995; LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999). As such, any salient discussion of Anasazi lifeways in current archaeological discourse must include some reference to purposeful trauma in order to be complete (Carman 1997:2; Cordell 1997:375–381, 141–142; Keeley 1996:174). The data center around skeletal remains with various levels of purposely inflicted trauma that led to death. These remains have been studied in various degrees of detail for a notable proportion (i.e., several hundred) of the several thousand inhumations excavated at Anasazi sites over the last century. This suggests that Anasazi trauma-related death is not a universal phenomenon, but that it is not an uncommon occurrence in the archaeological record either.

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Chapter 1: Introduction

Little is known about the specifics of violence among the Anasazi. In part, the discussion has been pushed aside or ignored by some scholars, while others have felt there was no violence among these people (see Chapter 2). There has also been little inquiry into the minutiae of trauma-related death among them (trauma-related death by human means, not accidental death). Indeed, most discussions of Anasazi violence are written as metanarratives, covering extremely broad topics (LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999). There is no doubt that such discussions are crucial to a broad understanding of Anasazi violence, but they do little to bring the researcher closer to understanding purposeful trauma in the past.

is found in archaeological investigation) that suggest not only violent death, but the cultural meaning of that violence as well. In the case of Anasazi postmortem disarticulation, context is again the key with regard to identifying violent activity. Whether disarticulation in prehistoric populations represents perimortem violence or immediate postmortem ritual as is known to occur in some cultures is a question that remains unanswered (e.g., Armstrong 2006; Seshadri 2006). It is not currently known if the disarticulated population in this study also met with a violent death, but it is inferred by the fact that these individuals are recovered from the same contexts as individuals with clear evidence of perimortem trauma. It will be shown in the course of this study that there is no statistical difference between those individuals traumatically killed but left articulated, and those who were disarticulated postmortem, based on the variables listed above. Additionally, the various ethnographies of modern Puebloans indicate no such postmortem ritual behavior as is seen in other parts of the world. It is the stance of this study that the trauma articulated and the disarticulated individuals are the result of violence, which may be somewhat prejudicial and ethnocentric in terms of its Western European meaning (hostility with intent to cause harm). Indeed, in some cultures worldwide, trauma inflicted on the dead was and is inflicted as a mark of honor (Blok 2001; Gerard 1977). This is harder to sustain for trauma inflicted on the living and for the purposes of this study perimortem trauma will be considered as having been inflicted with hostile intent, and is thus considered violent.

This study seeks to present a new approach to the subject by placing individual cases of trauma-related death in the archaeological context in which they were discovered and comparing those individuals to a sample population of individuals that does not exhibit skeletal trauma. The results of this analysis are then compared and contrasted to the existing views of Anasazi violence, and new conclusions are drawn from the study. As can be gathered from the discussion thus far, a proportion of the Anasazi skeletal population retains clear evidence of perimortem trauma. Of course, trauma may be the result of nonhuman cause, such as falls leading to broken limbs, impact from falling objects as seen in rock slides, and so on, but it will be shown that much of the recorded trauma on Anasazi skeletons is unambiguously the result of purposeful human agency. The two levels of trauma considered in this study, and the contexts in which they occurred, point conclusively to purposeful human infliction with malevolent intent. The two levels studied are articulated bodies with evidence of trauma and bodies that were disarticulated purposely perimortem, as evidenced by bone trauma such as cut marks and greenstick fracturing. These two levels of inquiry are combined into a single study category identified as the trauma-disarticulated population (TD). Additionally, a non-trauma population that forms the control group in this study is labeled non-trauma articulated (NTA). It is important to note that these convenient headers need some qualification. For instance, there are naturally disarticulated bodies in the NTA group. These are always disturbed postburial by nonhuman agents and should not be confused with the deliberately disarticulated individuals in this study. These categories are discussed in greater detail in Chapter 4.

A lot of emphasis has been placed on the type of violence represented among the Anasazi (Bullock 1998; Darling 1995; LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999). Questions regarding violence between communities (warfare, witch execution, and raids) and violence within communities (witch execution, vendetta, duels, and dangerous games) have been raised. Although these are clearly important to our understanding, ultimately they are representations of the expressions of violence rather than its cause or meaning. While this study includes all of these expressions, it also seeks to find the meaning or meanings of Anasazi violence. Ultimately this leads to questions of cause (effect being the expression of the cause). The central research question for this study is constructed to address the physical patterns of Anasazi trauma and context, as well as looking toward the meaning of the subject.

The most important aspect regarding the identification of violence among the TD group is in the archaeological context. As will be discussed throughout this book, variables such as the position of bodies, location of bodies within the site, the type of grave, and the presence or absence of grave goods all have direct bearing in identifying the violently killed and patterns of violence among the Anasazi. For example, a perimortem blow to the head that led to a death that could have been the result of violence is supported by additional contextual data (e.g., where the body

Research Question and Problem Statement This study is based on the premise that the traumatically killed can be differentiated from the nontraumatic death population in the archaeological record and that this separation may be identified through patterns in the contexts of the burial populations. As such, the basic research question to be pursued is:

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Are there patterns, either general or specific, spatial or temporal, in Anasazi violence as elucidated through skeletal populations and the contexts in which they are found? What is the meaning of Anasazi violence as illustrated in traumatic death, and the context in which it took place?

By gathering data from the literature regarding trauma death among the Anasazi, as reported from the beginnings of archaeological inquiry into the culture area, the first database (DB1) was created to encapsulate all potential elements of violent activity from the study population. These elements include, trauma in human remains, burned and collapsed structures, defensive site placement and so on. Many of the variables recorded, however, had too few cases to have any statistical significance (e.g., other kinds of trauma or pathologies). Some of these variables are nonetheless discussed in the body of this book in terms of potential trends in the archaeological record and their importance for future research. Because much of this study focuses on statistical meaning, the first database was refined into a second, broader database that was focused on the human remains and the contexts in which they were found. Statistical quantification was reached by comparing the trauma and non-trauma populations against the database variables, with the ultimate goal being to present data related to specific incidents of traumatic death, and the subsequent treatment of those individuals.

To this end there are several subordinate questions that ultimately address this overarching question. These questions are designed to be directly answerable by the available data in the archaeological literature. These data were placed in two separate databases for this study (described below) that include skeletons with evidence of trauma and a control group of skeletons that retain no evidence of trauma. Subordinate Questions 1. What is the relationship of the skeletal population to the sites in which they are found? 2. What is the relationship between the skeletal population and grave goods?

Moving beyond individual burial data, sites were plotted on regional maps through time as a means of visually analyzing potential aerial/temporal patterns in the trauma data. The maps were studied for location of violent activity through time, shifts in those locations, and the numbers of cases through time. These observations are discussed in terms of patterns that may have been present in the Anasazi culture area through time.

3. What are the relative ages of the population at death (child, adolescent, adult)? 4. What position were the bodies in at the time of burial? The general problem statement is that although violencerelated trauma death among the Anasazi has been generally accepted by scholars since the 1990s (see, for example, Bullock 1998; Carman 1997; Keeley 1996; LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999), there is yet little understanding of the activity, how it differs from nontraumatic death, and what its cultural meanings may be. This study seeks to address, at least in part, these problems via contextual and database analysis at a level never before attempted in the study of prehistoric violence.

In summary, the approach to this study began with development of a database (DB1). The study continued with a refined database (DB2), which allowed for an intensive statistical study of the most salient aspects of the data. Lastly, the traumatic events were analyzed both spatially and temporally. For a detailed discussion of the methodology, see Chapter 4. Study Population

Summary of Methodology

The study population is derived from extensive analysis of the published and gray literature, and from personal experience. The population includes bodies identified as having evidence of perimortem trauma (study group) and bodies that have no evidence of perimortem trauma (control group). The trauma population identification was either through direct reporting by the author of the reports reviewed, or indirect where perimortem trauma was noted by me in the literature review, through readings of osteological reports and photographic analysis. The non-trauma population in this study was chosen from the same sites where trauma bodies were encountered. In cases where only bodies with perimortem trauma were present, bodies from sites within 1 mile were included as a proxy population sample. These bodies were included in the database if the site dated to the same time period as the site with peri-

This study is based primarily on the existing archaeological literature and an extensive search of that literature for examples of skeletal remains with evidence of trauma and the context in which those skeletons were encountered archaeologically. These data were analyzed both qualitatively and especially quantitatively via statistical analysis. As mentioned briefly above, there were two levels, or groups of trauma death (articulated and disarticulated individuals) forming one category of study (trauma disarticulated or TD) and one group representing the non-trauma population (non-trauma articulated or NTA). The two categories of TD and NTA were combined, and the undertaking was accomplished by entering variables related to death and archaeological context into two databases.

4

Chapter 1: Introduction Organization

mortem trauma individuals. Additionally, the non-trauma population was collected from sites within the broader region surrounding the sites where trauma bodies were identified. This allowed for a larger group of non-trauma individuals to be included in the database from the same geographical region (within 20 miles) as the trauma site locations.

Following this introductory chapter, the book begins with a cultural history and environmental review, setting the background for discussion of violence among the Anasazi. This chapter is followed by an in-depth review of the extant archaeological literature from the early twentieth century to present. It will be seen that the frequency of the study of violence has changed through time, based on theoretical interests, and political and historical events at the time the studies were being conducted. The chapter introduces some of the sources from which data were drawn for the databases developed in this study. The methods used in the study are presented next, introducing the two databases in more detail. The final chapters of the study will focus on the results of database analysis and the presentation of the results of analysis. The final chapter presents conclusions regarding the results of this study, discussion of the results and highlights the need for additional research.

As discussed briefly above, the study population consists of 1,803 individuals (n = 803 trauma, 1,000 non-trauma). It should be understood from the outset that the current study population was not derived from a random sample and is therefore biased at the statistical level of inquiry (Drennan 1996:88–90). This is not to say that within the parameters of the study population that statistical study is not valid. According to Drennan (1996:90), nonrandom samples may still be used if there is “thorough understanding of the nature of the sample bias and careful application of common sense” about the nature of the population. The study population is driven by previous research, in which trauma-related death was discovered in the course of archaeological excavation at sites across the Anasazi culture area. The researchers chose these sites for a variety of reasons, none of which involved the study of violence. This may add some “randomness” to the sample in that the discovery of trauma death in the burial population was unplanned by these researchers. However, the overall bias of the researchers in choosing the sites for excavation cannot be avoided.

Need for the Study This study adds to the growing corpus of data regarding Anasazi violence. Until very recently, purposeful trauma in preindustrial societies has been placed very low in the scheme of cultural importance, minimized, explained away in terms of ritual, or ignored all together. This is a worldwide phenomenon that Lawrence Keeley has called “the pacification of the past” (Keeley 1996). There has been a broken and disparate history of the recognition of violence among the Anasazi. Only recently has the actual importance of this activity been noted in regard to many aspects of Anasazi cultural development, and the eventual collapse of Anasazi society (LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999). Despite this newfound recognition of the importance of Anasazi violence, there are still those who believe that the Anasazi were the peaceful farmers they have been made out to be since the middle of the twentieth century or before (Nordby 2002). This is made evident in the complete omission of discussion regarding violence in much of the literature. In many ways, the study of violence is in its infancy. There are several scholars following numerous lines of reasoning, the end result of which are many, and often conflicting, conclusions regarding the archaeological evidence.

In the case of trauma death, every mention of the topic in the literature was intensely researched and it is likely that the great majority of these previously reported incidents are now documented here. Some may have escaped this study; especially those buried in the gray literature, which is represented by the vast writings in cultural resource management. The 1,000 cases of non-trauma death may be less biased and more statistically random, but only to the point that they were drawn from the same sites where trauma-deaths were reported, or from nearby sites, within 1 mile, dating from the same period. Thus, the choice of non-trauma individuals was more judgmental than random in terms of sampling (Drennan 1996). The non-traumarelated deaths are for comparative purposes only, forming a baseline data set from which the trauma population can be compared. No one knows how many non-trauma Anasazi dead have been recorded—many thousands to be sure—and as such, the small sample in this study serves as a proxy of that entire population. In order to have statistical validity when compared to the study population, the control population must be large as or larger than the study population (Drennan 1996:195; Kathy Hensler, personal communication 2006). The control (non-trauma) population exceeds the study (trauma) population number by 197 in this study. The sites included in this study are presented in Figure 1.

These studies have formed a broad-based foundation for in-depth analysis of purposeful trauma among the Anasazi but there has not been, to date, a study that centers around the contextual evidence of violence nor have these data been studied statistically. This thesis is key to the development of such in-depth analysis. Only by studying the activity in close contextual settings can we begin to understand patterns of violence and begin to ask questions regarding the cultural meaning of those patterns.

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 1. Sites discussed in this study. The timing of this study is crucial. Current political climates in the United States are making the study of prehistoric Native American remains difficult, and research of prehistoric violence is being severely restricted. If the current trend does not reverse, studies such as this one will no longer be possible. This study has gone forward under the premise that it is not enough to simply identify the presence of trauma-related death through violent acts, but that in-depth contextual study is crucial to our understanding of Anasazi lifeways. This study is an important aspect of the rich fabric of Anasazi culture and will aid in our understanding of the daily life of the Anasazi people specifically, and human beings in general.

of data to the record is extremely dangerous to archaeology in general, and the study of violence in particular. With only cursory study of human remains, the bodies are returned to the various tribes for reburial and access to those remains is lost for all time. Having pointed this problem out, it is also important to note that this study was completed with the greatest respect to Native Americans. At no time are their religious beliefs or cultural traditions questioned in this study. On the contrary, this study sheds a positive light on this prehistoric culture by giving voice to the Anasazi as a group of human beings, rather than passive actors of the Golden Age (see Keeley [1996] for a salient discussion) or a simple “killer cannibal cult” and “psychopaths” as described by some scholars (Turner and Turner 1999:478).

Problems with Data Access and Data Collection

Because this study includes all of the Anasazi literature spanning over 100 years of archaeological study, there were problems with differential data collection methods by the various investigators. Some of these methods were so general that they may have failed to identify trauma in some bodies. A careful review of osteological and contextual data in these reports was made in order to filter out many of these oversights, but it is possible that a few were not identified during this study. It is unlikely that there were enough of these cases to have any effect on the outcome of the analysis or the conclusions drawn. There are always dangers in potential data error in studies that rely on the literature but it is assumed that the data presented within this study are correct based on the intensive review of the literature from which the data were derived

.

Due to the political and legal obstacles alluded to above, there was difficulty in free access to recent data for this study. This was not a problem for cases of Anasazi violence reported before 1994, but gaining access to more recent data was difficult, and in one case the author was denied access to primary data due to a legal moratorium. The driving factor behind this problem is the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA [1994]), which involves consultation with Native American tribes when prehistoric skeletal materials are discovered or studied. Tribes now retain the political power to deny access to the analysis of their potential ancestors. As such, native groups can deny access to primary data if they feel that they can be harmed by that analysis. Although the spirit of the NAGPRA legislation is well intended, the loss

6

Chapter 1: Introduction

Another minor problem with this study is the fact that some artifact classes may be underrepresented due to differential preservation. This is especially true of perishable materials from open archaeological sites, such as sites not in caves or cliff overhang settings. This should not have great bearing on the observations or conclusions in the study because of the presence of other classes of artifacts, such as stone tools and ceramics that act as a control and allow for analysis of artifact association with the trauma and non-trauma groups.

It must be remembered that violence is only one minor aspect to the entire suite of traits that make up what we know as the Anasazi culture. In the next chapter some of the rich fabric of the Anasazi will be illuminated through the discussion of the environment in which these people lived and the development of their culture history.

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

8

Chapter 2: Environment and Culture History

Chapter 2 Environment and Culture History One of the most difficult problems in any science is the establishment of a workable classification, or division of the study into various parts, that these parts may more readily be examined and compared —John McGregor, 1982 Fortunately, in the Southwest, spatial and temporal analysis of archaeological data commenced early in the last century, aided by good preservation and the development of ceramic seriation, dendrochronology, and later, radiocarbon dating. This has allowed for the development of a chronological scheme broad enough to monitor major development through time, and precise enough to document subregional developments in 30- to 50-year periods (e.g., the Dolores Project in southwestern Colorado [Kane 1984]). Although the chronological sequence is constantly being refined, what follows is a general outline of the current development of Anasazi sequencing. In recent work regarding cultural sequences across the prehistoric Southwest, Cordell and Gummerman (2006:6) discuss the cultural changes that mark the various Anasazi culture periods as “hinge points” in which change was often abrupt and may have strong ties to sudden environmental change. There are much more detailed descriptions of the cultur-

al sequences than can be presented here (see, especially, Cordell 1984, 1997; McGregor 1982). This sketch is, however, necessary to set the stage for the following chapters. Introduction to the Environment The environment of the Anasazi culture area is harsh. Like the greater Southwest in general, the Anasazi culture area was and is arid with limited natural resources, especially water. It is a fragile environment where the impact of human adaptive decisions on the environment is still evident today (Cordell 1997:31–32). Physiographically, the Anasazi culture area was located within the Colorado Plateau Province, at the upper end of the Sonoran life zone. Elevations range from 1524 m to 3657 m in a broken canyon and mesa setting (Figure 2 and Figure 3). Major waterways are generally heavily entrenched (Cordell 1997:35). The arid nature of the area is created by precipitation deficits, as is the case with all Dry Domain areas worldwide (Cordell 1997:36). Moisture occurs in sudden and intense summer rain storms in July and August, brought from the Gulf of Mexico. Winter moisture occurs mainly between December and March, with storms moving in from the Pacific Ocean along the California coast. It is in the winter months that nearly all of the effective moisture is produced because it occurs in the form of soaking rain or snow showers. The high intensity summer storms produce moisture but this is lost in runoff. The Anasazi area receives

Figure 2. General landscape of the Anasazi culture area. (Photo Courtesy of Aztec Archaeological Consultants, LLC)

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 3. Mesa and mountain terrain of the northern Anasazi culture area. (Photo by the author)

between 10 and 50 cm of moisture annually, which can vary from year to year (Cordell 1997:37–38). Not only is the region dry but because of the elevations, the effective growing season is short in most of the northern portion of the culture area (Cordell 1997:41). The natural vegetation in the region is best described as:

and bald eagle, raven, crow, and buzzard. Reptiles include several varieties of turtle, lizards, and a wide range of desert species snake. Despite the apparent limiting nature of the environment, humans have made this region home over thousands of years. Diversity does exist in the form of microenvironmental niches across the culture area. These niches changed location and character through time, but were always known by the local inhabitants and exploited to the fullest. This is true even after the acceptance of domesticated crops and the advent of full-time farming. Agriculture in the harsh confines of the basins, mesas, and canyons of this portion of the American Southwest allowed for the growth of population and development of complex societies that filled the area for a very long period of time.

…extensive areas of bare rock, devoid of vegetation. At low elevations arid grasslands are extensive, though not dense. Sagebrush is common in locations with fairly deep soils. The most extensive vegetation zone in the province, the piñon-juniper woodland, is generally quite open with grama and other grasses, herbs, and shrubs occurring among the trees. Above the piñon-juniper is the montaine zone. In the southern part of this zone, ponderosa pine is dominant and may be associated with Douglas fir, although the latter generally occurs in more sheltered sites or at higher elevations. In the northern part of the province, lodgepole pine and aspen are the dominant trees of the montaine zone, while at the highest elevations, Englemann spruce and subalpine fir are characteristic [Cordell 1997:45].

Paleoindian Adaptation (ca. 10,000 B.C.–5000 B.C.) Between about 10,000 B.C. and 9000 B.C. most of the American Southwest was occupied by a group of hunting and gathering people whose focus was big game animals, including but not limited to, wooly mammoth, bison, sloth, tapir, and camel (Irwin-Williams 1979:31). This adaptation cannot be distinguished from similar adaptations continentwide. It consisted of a distinctive style of projectile point called Clovis, named after Clovis, New Mexico where the type was first encountered, and archaeological sites include kill and camp locations. The few camps or short-term habitations that are known retain small amounts of ground stone tools suggesting that plant gathering took place, but there was limited processing of those plant foods. This highly mobile group apparently followed the

Fauna in the area currently includes elk, scattered moose, and deer as the largest game animals, followed by Rocky Mountain big horned sheep. Predators include a variety of wild cats, the largest of which is the cougar, black bears, wolves (after reintroduction), coyote, and a variety of foxes. Rabbits abound with the two most prevalent types being the large jackrabbit and smaller cottontail. Avian species include a wide variety of songbirds, hawks, the golden

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Chapter 2: Environment and Culture History

large game, moving through a landscape that is nearly incomprehensible in the Southwest today. A mixed desert grassland and conifer forest appears to have covered much of the region, with broad rivers whose origins were in massive glaciers that emanated from the local mountain ranges. Large glacial lakes were also present.

environmental adaptation; however, the adaptation was general enough to identify it as part of the Archaic Desert culture. The Oshara tradition defines the area that would later be identified as Anasazi, who were descendents of local Archaic people. In the early portion of the Archaic, big game hunting continued, but was slowly replaced with smaller animals as herds of large game moved further eastward onto the plains. This left only elk, deer, antelope, and mountain sheep as the largest of the game animals in the region that could provide large amounts of meat to local Archaic populations. A great focus on rabbits and similar animals has been noted (Irwin-Williams 1979:39). An increase in ground stone artifacts indicates that more plant processing occurred during the Archaic, but this does not necessarily indicate an increase in gathering. Rather, it shows a trend toward more extensive processing of wild plant foods. Very shallow pithouses are first documented in the middle and late Archaic (Woodbury and Zubrow 1979:55). This is not to say that pithouses were not present in the previous periods, but it is the Archaic structures that have been preserved in the archaeological record. These structures were probably not used for permanent habitation but served as seasonal shelter.

From 9000 B.C. to about 7000 B.C. a distinct change in the tool kit of the Paleoindians occurred, and probably follows the beginning of extinctions in Pleistocene megafauna. Distinctive projectile points and a broad range of faunal remains mark the new complex, known as Folsom, named after Folsom, New Mexico. A shift in hunting focus is indicated by an increase in bison bone, and an increase in grinding implements at campsites. Very clearly, the climate of the Southwest had begun to change at this time (a possible factor in the extinction of megafauna) with an expansion of grasslands and a concomitant retreat of conifer forest, then the return of conifer forest, and wetter conditions. This was followed by another retreat of forest and grassland expansion (Cordell 1997:78–79). Near the end of the Folsom complex, groups of people began to focus more intensely on local resources and there is a branching of projectile point forms, perhaps suggesting the beginnings of separate cultural developments and the rise of regional styles. This trend marks the next stage of the Paleoindian tradition.

The Archaic represents a new type of adaptation, one that is largely based on the changes in environment from wetter to drier, or from a period of higher effective moisture to one of less effective moisture across the region. There appears to have been a drying period beginning in the Gulf of California that slowly spread out across the American Southwest. The change from a conifer/grassland environment to a piñon and juniper/mixed grassland environment was dramatic and it forced cultural change as a means of survival. Diversification in resource exploitation and the exploitation of multiple microenvironmental niches not only allowed for the survival of the Archaic groups in the Southwest, but there is some indication of population increase at that time (Cordell 1997:128). Near the end of the Archaic, there appears to have been a return to more mesic conditions. This, in combination with an increased population and a broad resource base, set the stage for the introduction and acceptance of domesticated plants from Mexico by some Southwestern groups.

The next stage began at around 7000 B.C. and continued to about 5000 B.C. and is known as the Plainview complex. According to the archaeological record, this complex is marked by numerous projectile point styles and an orientation toward hunting smaller game animals, with the focus remaining on bison. The presence of ground stone artifacts indicates a continued reliance on collected plant resources as well. The diversification in projectile point styles is important because it indicates the beginning of subregional differentiation and adaptation to local resource bases. These distinctions continued to develop through the Archaic and became more pronounced when domestic plants were introduced near the end of the Archaic. At that time the environmental trend toward more arid conditions continued. Archaic Adaptation (5000 B.C.–ca. 300 B.C.)

Anasazi Developmental Periods

The Archaic in the American Southwest began at about 5000 B.C. and ended with the introduction of agriculture, variously dated between 1500 B.C. and 100 B.C. (Cordell 1997:101–126; Greubel and Cater 2001; Irwin-Williams 1979:31–42; Wills 1988; Woodbury and Zubrow 1979:43– 60). It is worth note that some groups probably never accepted agriculture and continued a hunting and gathering lifeway until regional abandonment in the A.D. 1300s. (Cater 1999; Cordell 1997:125–126; Sebastian 1992:22; Shields and Cater 1992:65). The Archaic can best be defined as an eclectic adaptation to the arid environment that followed the Paleoindian period (Irwin-Williams 1979:33). Each group across the Southwest varied somewhat in their

The developmental periods of the Anasazi are briefly outlined in this section. It should be noted that not all portions of the Anasazi region developed at the same rate, nor did all areas develop all of the traits described (Figure 4). The chronological periods described below (Table 1) were created in the early portion of the last century at the first Pecos Conference. This conference, designed to gather archaeologists from across the Anasazi region, is still held today. The chronological scheme is known as the Pecos Classification (Cordell 1997:164–167).

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 4. The Anasazi culture area with subculture areas delineated. (Adapted from Lange et al. 1988)

Basketmaker II (1000 B.C.–A.D. 500)

down-the-line trade with nearby cultures like the Mogollon and Hohokam. Until recently, the introduction of maize was thought to have occurred at about 100 B.C. (Irwin-Williams 1979:57) or slightly later. Well-dated samples have recently been found that easily push this introductory period back to 1000 B.C. or earlier (Cater 1999; Cordell 1997:129; Wills 1988). Virtually all other traits remain the same, including: shallow pit structures, which are depressions in the ground surrounded by upright posts that were covered with branches, brush, and grass then enclosed in mud in cave and open sites; a scattered settlement pattern with preference for areas where multiple microenvironments could be exploited; the use of well-woven basketry (hence the name of the subculture); and a continued reliance on hunting and gathering. Horticulture was the dietary supplement at this time as

Basketmaker II is the classification given to the earliest known agricultural people in the Anasazi culture area (see Table 1). It was defined early in the century and because it appeared as a full-blown culture, it was assumed that an earlier, Basketmaker I, developmental period would eventually be found. This has turned out to be somewhat erroneous, although the problem of transition from Archaic to Basketmaker is still researched and heavily debated (Cordell 1997:164). The Basketmaker II people can be distinguished from their Archaic predecessors by the presence of maize in the floral assemblages of the sites investigated. Maize was traded to the local population, originating in Mexico and entering the Anasazi culture area from Southwestern cultures to the south. It is unknown if this was direct trade or

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Chapter 2: Environment and Culture History

Figure 5. Sketch of a typical Basketmaker II hamlet. Table 1. Anasazi Developmental Periods as Represented by the Pecos Classification

Period Name

Start Date

End Date

Basketmaker II Basketmaker III Pueblo I Pueblo II Pueblo III

1000 B.C. A.D. 500 A.D. 700 A.D. 900 A.D. 1150

A.D. 500 A.D. 700 A.D. 900 A.D. 1150 A.D. 1350

opposed to later periods. Hamlets ranged in size from 1 to about 11 house units, usually associated with storage features such as underground pits or beehive-shaped surface units. Hamlets appear to have been poorly organized based on the haphazard placement of structures (Figure 5 and Figure 6).

It is clear that the Basketmaker II people retained a similar worldview and religious belief system, based on very similar iconography in basketry design and rock art style. Integrative units in larger villages, called oversized pithouses, great pithouses, or early great kivas by various investigators (Brew 1946; Cordell 1979, 1984, 1997; Morris 1939; Rob-

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 6. Site LA 4257, a Basketmaker II site from northwest New Mexico. (From Eddy 1961)

erts 1929; Vivian and Reiter 1965;) are thought to indicate that intervillage ties were present in religion, alliance, and possibly political organization. These integrative structures were large, semisubterranean or subterranean pithouses with no evidence of domestic function. Their size has been compared to the great kivas of the later periods, suggesting that they may have served many people from a broad area.

formalized in layout with more formalized integrative structures called great pithouses. There is a general increase in population, as inferred by an increase in the number of sites dating to this period and an increase in the number of structures present within Basketmaker III sites. Although cave and cliff sites continued to be used, more open-air sites were established at this time in a broader range of environmental settings (Figure 7 and Figure 8). Additionally, there is a shift from the use of the atlatl (spear thrower) to the bow and arrow at different times and locations throughout the period. Although fine basketry is still the major marker of the period, ceramic technology spread across the region so that by the end of the period ceramics were replacing basketry. Burials occur in abandoned cists, caves, abandoned structures, and trash mounds (Cordell 1979:134, 1984:100, 1997:271; McGregor 1982:206–217; Plog 1979:114)

The dead were generally buried in unused storage units or niches in cave and cliff walls (Morris and Burgh 1954). Individuals were often placed in a flexed position, sitting or on the side and buried with grave goods. Basketmaker III (A.D. 500–A.D. 700)

.

For much of the Anasazi region, an increased reliance on maize and the introduction of beans and squash from Mexico mark the Basketmaker III. Hamlets are larger and more

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Chapter 2: Environment and Culture History

Figure 7. Sketch of a typical Basketmaker III hamlet. In general, the period can be classified as a settling in of people who were becoming dependent upon agriculture and moving away from hunting and gathering as a major form of subsistence.

These differences indicate the seminal development of the major Anasazi subcultures that would dominate the landscape for the next 650 years, until the region was abandoned. Although most strongly separated in an east/west line, the nascent development that would distinguish the Kayenta, Chaco, Mesa Verde, and Upper San Juan areas is clearly present in the archaeological record.

Regional subdivisions of Basketmaker III people are evident in the archaeological record. These differences are associated with differential technological advancement, changes in iconography, site layout, and architecture.

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 8. Site 5DL112, a Basketmaker III hamlet. (From McNamee and Hammack 1999)

Pueblo I (A.D. 700–A.D. 900)

This extensive period of development is also pivotal because it represents the change from horticulture/agriculture as a supplement to diet at the beginning of the period, to the development of a culture that was fully dependent upon agriculture for its diet by the end of the period. The differential changes in technology may indicate differences in socioeconomic development, religious beliefs, or differences in resource distribution. By the end of the period, around A.D. 700, the areas that archaeologists identify with the subgroups of the Anasazi were well established. Technology and cultural need aided in developments such as integrated surface room blocks and the movement toward using the pithouse as a religious structure primarily and a living structure secondarily.

The Pueblo I period is marked by the aggregation of large groups of people into relatively small environmental niches (Figure 9 and Figure 10). Generally these aggregations occur in areas of higher altitude, at the upper end of the maize-farming spectrum. Environmental studies indicate that a radical change in the climate may have led to the occupations of these areas when lower altitude areas became unattractive for farming. With the aggregation of people, true villages emerged (Brew 1946; Wilshusen 1991, 2002:110–120) and with these villages satellite hamlets and farmsteads were established, forming new levels of organizational and social systems, as suggested by settle-

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Chapter 2: Environment and Culture History

Figure 9. Sketch of a typical Pueblo I village. ment nucleation around large villages with integrative structures.

troduced into the surface rooms over time, so that by the end of the period most of the Anasazi were building with stone. A wider variety of pottery forms and styles were prevalent at that time and for the first time subregions became very distinctive in pithouse shape and pottery design elements. The dead were buried in abandoned structures and in trash middens (Cordell 1979:135–136, 1984:230– 243; Eddy 1966; Hall 1944; Plog 1979:114–115; Roberts 1929). At that point, the population is generally considered to have been made up of full-time agriculturists who supplemented their diet by hunting and gathering. By the end of the period, aggregated settlements were breaking down, and the population was generally dispersing over the region once again

.

At that time there was a major shift from using pithouses solely as domestic structures to a combination domestic and family/clan religious structure. Living and storage structures were built on the ground surface and are generally referred to as surface rooms or room blocks. Villagewide integrative structures included pithouses with specialized floor features, and great pithouses (Brew 1946; Cater and Shields 1992; Wilshusen 1991, 2002). At the intervillage level, the great kiva became formalized as a religious unit. Surface structure construction mimicked pithouse construction, as it generally consisted of upright posts sealed with mud. Stone architecture was slowly in-

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 10. Portion of site 13, Alkali Ridge, a Pueblo I village. (From Brew 1946)

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Chapter 2: Environment and Culture History Pueblo II (A.D. 900–A.D. 1150)

that Chaco was important to the development of the Pueblo II Anasazi. Due to its location in a relatively resourcepoor area, and perhaps because of increased competition, Chaco collapsed in the later part of the period. Although this left a void, the surviving Mesa Verde Anasazi group quickly filled it, reoccupying much of the central canyon (Judd 1954; Lekson 1987; Vivian and Matthews 1965).

In many ways the Pueblo II period marks the florescence of Anasazi culture. There was the early development of separate subgroups within the eastern Anasazi area that was not recognizable in the preceding period. This separation is clearly marked by the developments of the Anasazi in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, and the Anasazi in the Mesa Verde area of southwestern Colorado.

Whether Chaco is seen as a single integrated system that spread across much of the Anasazi culture area by A.D. 1000, or whether the sites in the central canyon were the epitome of a lifeway that others sought desperately to emulate and compete against may never be known. Sites in Chaco Canyon and associated outlying sites are unparalleled anywhere in the Southwest in terms of technological advancement and may be equaled in all of North America only by the developments in the Mississippi River valley. For a brief period, Chaco Canyon was the center of the Anasazi universe.

Chacoan Development In Chaco Canyon, large, multiple-storied masonry structures following a clearly planned outline were erected (Figure 11 and Figure 12). These large villages, known as great houses, became the hallmark of the period. In Chaco and its immediate surrounds, masonry and ceramic production reached technological heights not seen prior to Pueblo II and rarely seen following the collapse of the Chaco system (Cordell 1997:188; Judd 1954; Lekson 1987, 1999). There is serious controversy regarding the Chacoan development after about A.D. 1000. Some scholars see the development of a large redistribution system, with great house sites appearing across much of the eastern Anasazi area.

Mesa Verde Development The Mesa Verde Anasazi were influenced by the culture in Chaco Canyon in various ways, yet their development was very different. Centered in what is today southwestern Colorado, the Mesa Verde Anasazi represent a diverse group in terms of settlement pattern. The Mesa Verde Anasazi lived along valley floors and valley margins in open village sites, but also developed the distinctive rockshelter architecture known as cliff dwellings. These latter villages sat high above canyon floors in natural caves and are the hallmark of the subculture.

Many of these sites are tied together with roads, and some roads led to Chaco Canyon. According to this reasoning, there was an elite center at Chaco Canyon that received tribute from its outlying settlements. This tribute would have largely been in maize and wood beams that went into further construction. Such a system is posited because the Chaco area is very resource poor and would have needed these supplements to continue to grow and thrive as it apparently did. Maize would have been stored in the great houses in the central canyon and redistributed to parts of the system where crops had failed (Judge 1977; Lekson 1999; Powers et al. 1983; Reed et al. 1979).

Large valley floor villages appear at about the same time as those in Chaco Canyon, but these are not as highly developed in terms of planned layout. Many large villages in the Mesa Verde area appear to have grown accretionally. Pottery types follow a very distinct and different developmental trajectory than Chaco. Near the middle of the period, the first construction sequences in cliff overhangs appear in the region and spread into the surrounding areas of the Kayenta Anasazi. The Mesa Verdean population appears to have had strong trade ties to the Kayenta Anasazi in northeastern Arizona. This group developed along similar lines to the Mesa Verde Anasazi in terms of art and architecture (Cordell 1979:136–137, 1984:103, 1997:195– 197; McGregor 1982:278–295; Plog 1979:115–116).

Other scholars see Chaco Canyon as an important center for the distribution of technology and esoterica such as religious belief, art forms, and possibly fashion. No other great house communities became as large as the Chaco Canyon center. That the technology for the construction of great houses came through the Chaco area is not in doubt, but according to this view, Chaco would have been in direct competition with the other great house communities across the eastern Anasazi region (Neitzel 1999:194–197; Sebastian 1992; Wilcox 1999).

Like all Anasazi groups, the Mesa Verde people maintained small kivas for religious and domestic activities (Brew 1946; Cater and Chenault 1988; Lekson 1989), although most domestic activities had moved to surface rooms and outdoor work areas by Pueblo II (Figure 13 and Figure 14). The major intercommunity integrative unit was the great kiva and this structure reached sizes and complexities that are unprecedented either in earlier or later periods (Figure 15). Although not as well organized as it appears the Chaco center was, centers did arise among the Mesa Verdean Anasazi. Large great house complexes that

Similarities in pottery design appear to be copies (Chacolike pottery) and when burials are found at great house sites (which is rare) they tend to have a lot of high-value materials with them, such as those found with the adult male recovered from Room 330 at Pueblo Bonito (see Judd 1954:91–92). According to this emerging view, these traits suggest that copying Chaco was desirable and competition for resources and trade goods was inevitable (Kantner 2001; Wilcox, personal communication 2001). Irrespective of which interpretation is followed, it is clear

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 11. Pueblo Bonito, Chaco Canyon. (From Judd 1954)

Figure 12. Pueblo Bonito, Chaco Canyon.

(Photo courtesy of Aztec Archaeological Consultants, LLC)

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Chapter 2: Environment and Culture History

Figure 13. Sketch of a Pueblo II habitation unit, Mesa Verde area. The dead were buried in various ways, but generally they were placed in formal pits, either in house floors or midden areas. There is evidence that in some cases the houses continued to be occupied after the burial of the individual or individuals. In larger great house complexes, the dead were often placed on the floors of abandoned rooms, which were then sealed or filled with refuse (Cordell 1979:136– 137, 1984:103; McGregor 1982:278–295; Morris 1924, 1939; Plog 1979:115–116). In many ways, this lifeway remained in place with minor change through the Pueblo II and Pueblo III periods

.

can only be called towns (Lekson 1999) were present at least by the middle of Pueblo II in southwestern Colorado and southeastern Utah. These centers often retained hundreds of kivas with associated room blocks, towers, reservoirs, and multiple-storied buildings. It would appear that the Mesa Verdean centers were founded on trade, religion, and very likely competition for control of resources. Small villages and hamlets were founded around these major centers and likely had cultural ties to the center they were founded near (Cordell 1979:136–137, 1984:103; McGregor 1982:278–295; Morris 1924, 1939).

21

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism Developments in the Kayenta Anasazi Area

but the large number of faunal remains recovered from Gallina sites suggests that they were also heavily reliant upon hunting and gathering. Their dead were placed in formal pits in middens or were left where they lay after having been traumatically killed (Green 1962; Lange 1956; Mackey and Green 1979; Mackey and Holbrook 1978).

The Kayenta subculture area, located in what is now southeastern Utah and northeastern Arizona, developed along the same lines as the Mesa Verde and Chaco areas but with differences in architecture, ceramic style and iconography, and to some extent, site layout (Cordell 1984:105). The Basketmaker periods are well represented with numerous cave sites in the region providing a wealth of information, especially with regard to perishable items (see Kidder and Gurnsey 1919; Gurnsey and Kidder 1921). Circular pithouses are prevalent in the Basketmaker period and the ceramic styles are the same as those encountered in the Mesa Verde area. Painted decoration on the pottery of the Basketmaker III is slightly different in iconographic representation. The dead were most often placed in abandoned storage cists in cave locations (Kidder and Gurnsey 1919).

San Juan River Anasazi Developments The San Juan River Anasazi, also associated with the name Upper San Juan Anasazi, are also a poorly understood subculture. This lack of understanding has been caused, in large part, by the masking of the subculture by occupations of Chacoan and Mesa Verde Anasazi in the area. The subculture is largely defined by Frank W. Eddy (1966) in the Navajo Reservoir area of northwestern New Mexico for the Basketmaker II and III and Pueblo I. It is defined in Pueblo II along the San Juan River near present-day Farmington, New Mexico (Cater and Shields 1992; Kearns 1992; Morris 1939; Shields and Cater 1992). Architectural style and ceramic iconography largely define the subculture. It parallels the larger developments of Chaco Canyon and Mesa Verde in Basketmaker II, III, and Pueblo I. By Pueblo II the local San Juan Anasazi population was building small pueblos using river cobbles almost exclusively. These small hamlets tend to be ranged around great houses built by Chacoans and Mesa Verde people living in the area. The dead were buried in a variety of ways, but generally they were placed in formal pits in midden areas.

The Pueblo I and Pueblo II periods also parallel the developments seen in the Mesa Verde area (Cordell 1984) with the rise of large, aggregated villages like Alkali Ridge (Brew 1946) in Pueblo I and the dissemination of populations across the landscape in Pueblo II. Architectural style is similar to Mesa Verde in Pueblo I, but is markedly different in Pueblo II with regard to site size and masonry styles. Ceramic style and iconography also became distinct in Pueblo I and remained so until the abandonment of the subculture area in the A.D. 1300s. The dead were buried in a variety of places, including formal pits in surface room floors, and the midden areas of sites. Large, aggregated villages do not reappear in the Kayenta area until after A.D. 1150, according to Cordell (1984:105). This is a major difference between the Kayenta and surrounding regions because the Mesa Verde and Chacoan areas had started developing large villages by A.D. 950. This late development of villages and differences in ceramics and architectural style continue to separate the Kayenta Anasazi from the other subculture areas until abandonment.

Pueblo III (A.D. 1150–A.D. 1350) The Anasazi continued to construct new sites in the early portion of the period, and cliff dwellings reached their peak (Figure 16 and Figure 17); however, the early Pueblo III period can be seen as the apex of the Anasazi development in all of the subculture areas (Figure 18 and Figure 19). Very few changes are evident in the archaeological record from the preceding Pueblo II period, although many large villages continued to grow in the early portion of the period. The most obvious changes that did take place were in pottery iconography and continued growth of large village localities. This peak was followed by local and regional abandonment by the middle of the period. At the beginning of Pueblo III, the environment had shifted decidedly to a drier period, with drought conditions that would prevail across the entire Southwest until well after the Anasazi culture area was abandoned. Drought, combined with overpopulation, may have led to a breakdown in a fragile socioreligious structure and an increase in competition for dwindling resources. There may have been an increase in pressure from nomadic groups of people who were living on the margins of the Anasazi culture area as well (Cordell 1979:137–151; 1984:303–325, 1997:423–426; LeBlanc 1999:197–276, 2001:36, 46; Lekson 1999:1450; McGregor 1982:321– 360; Plog 1979:115–116).

Gallina Subculture Area The Gallina subculture in northwestern New Mexico is an archaeological enigma. Work done in the area was completed mainly in the 1920s and 1930s and was very seldom written up except in popular magazine articles. Field notes have disappeared, along with entire collections of artifacts. No studies to date have been completed regarding the progenitors of the Pueblo II Gallina culture, nor has there been an adequate study of the Gallina culture itself. This academic travesty is more the tragedy for studies such as this because the Gallina area retains some of the greatest examples of trauma death in the entire Southwest. What we know of the Gallina is that they retained a separate pottery style and iconography, had very distinctive architecture (as seen in tower construction), and appear to have had relations not only with other Anasazi groups, but groups on the Great Plains to the east of their culture area as well. They were reliant on maize agriculture to a certain extent,

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Chapter 2: Environment and Culture History

Figure 14. Site 5MT2, a Pueblo II habitation. (From Cater 1988)

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 15. Site 5MT3, Pueblo II pit structure (kiva). (Photo by the author)

Summary

Although it is doubtful that any single event caused the wholesale abandonment of the Anasazi homeland, combinations of any of these possibilities could have influenced abandonment decisions. Irrespective of the causes, the Anasazi began to leave the region by the middle of the period, an exodus that was not complete until the early A.D. 1400s. The disparate groups appear to have banded together in continuously larger villages as they moved southward toward the Hopi Mesas in Arizona and the Rio Grande of New Mexico.

The preceding sketch of the cultural history of the Southwest is necessarily brief, but should serve as a guide and reference for the remainder of this book. Each period of development listed above has many intricate details that have been disregarded in the interest of space and the reader is encouraged to study the literature on the subject (see, specifically, Cordell 1997). The prehistoric people of the Southwest began as a hunting and gathering group that focused on the big game animals of the Pleistocene. Upon the extinction of those animals, and the concomitant environmental changes from wet to dry, cultural adaptation shifted to a broad-based hunting and gathering mode of

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Figure 16. Sketch of a cliff dwelling, Mesa Verde area. subsistence. This broad resource base, and a return to wetter environmental conditions, set the stage for the introduction and acceptance of domestic plants from Mexico. Not all of the cultural groups in the Southwest accepted horticulture/agriculture at the same time, and some groups never did.

the household level, and some households moved close to other households, forming very loose hamlets. These hamlets continued to develop, becoming more organized over time. By Pueblo I, possible shifts in environmental conditions forced people to group in relatively tight environmental niches. This aggregation of population led to the development of true villages. A shift back to more mesic conditions in Pueblo II incited populations to disperse across the landscape once again. Villages sprung up across the Anasazi Southwest, and the early development

Within the purview of Anasazi development, changes from simple to complex adaptations can be seen through time. Early Anasazi groups were probably organized at

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 17. Mug House, Mesa Verde National Park. (From Rohn 1971)

of what have been termed towns (Lekson 1999) is epitomized by the developments seen in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. Clearly, Pueblo II is the zenith of Anasazi cultural and technological developments, as seen in the diversity of art forms and architecture. The Pueblo III period marks the stagnation and eventual collapse of the Anasazi culture as a distinct group. Massive abandonment on a regionwide scale occurred throughout the period, with groups moving south toward the Hopi Mesas and the Rio Grande River. As will be shown in the following chapters, violence played an important role in both the development of the Anasazi culture and its eventual demise. Discussions of violence

were purposely left out of the presentation of the culture history so that a simple baseline of development could be discussed.

.

What we know about the Anasazi has been developed over the past 100 years of archaeological inquiry into the topic. In many ways, the study of these people grew (and continues to grow) along with the development of archaeology as a science in the United States. The importance of violence among the Anasazi has evolved with the growth of the discipline in general, as will be made evident in the next chapter

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Figure 18. Sketch of a Pueblo III village, Mesa Verde area.

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Figure 19. Site 5MT5, Yellow Jacket, Mesa Verde area. (From Lange et al. 1988)

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Chapter 3: History of Research

Chapter 3 History of Research A variety of physical, natural, and social sciences is being more closely drawn together, and specialized approaches are being developed to provide leads as well as answers in Southwestern archaeology. Archaeology will undoubtedly continue to grow, as its history demonstrates, by generating schools of thought, developing new techniques, and utilizing the best of other disciplines. —Albert Schroeder, 1979

The entire framework of this study lies within the existing literature, and a careful review of previous research is warranted. It is also important to understand that the study of this subject has not and does not exist in a vacuum. Indeed, purposeful trauma death is the subject of inquiry worldwide and by understanding the world approaches to violence it is possible to place the study of the subject in the American Southwest into perspective. As such, a discussion of world approaches to prehistoric violence is merited here. This is followed by an in-depth presentation of the history of the study of Anasazi violence. World Approaches to Prehistoric Violence Recent years have witnessed an upsurge in the study of prehistoric violence throughout the world. In many ways, the study of violence worldwide has suffered the same historical fate as that of the American Southwest; namely it has been ignored and marginalized for a very long time (Keeley 1996). Keeley rhetorically asks: What, then, has anthropology said about the warfare conducted by prehistoric and “primitive” societies? The simple answer is: very little. By recent count, only three complete books (and a handful of anthologies and ethnographies) devoted exclusively to primitive warfare have been published in this century, far fewer than are published on the American Civil War each year [Keeley 1996:4]. There is an interesting difference between anthropology and archaeology in this sense. Violence has been looked at more closely on a worldwide basis in anthropology than it has in archaeology. This may be tied directly to Keeley’s (1996) concept of pacification of the past wherein living cultures may be seen as violent, but past cultures belong to a Golden Age. Indeed, anthropological studies have embraced violence as part of culture for a very long time, but this has not been the case in archaeology. This lag has

occurred largely because of early philosophers such as Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Rousseau’s (1712–1778) theories of primitive man leaned toward man as one with nature, fighting only for food when necessary (Keeley 1996:6–7). Man in his “natural state” was a Noble Savage living in a Golden Age, lost by the organization of humans into artificial social order, regulated by unnatural laws (Keeley 1996:6). This philosophy has endured in archaeology until recently, especially among scholars writing about the Anasazi who have often been seen as “peaceful farmers” (LeBlanc 1999:2). Violence in the world arena has been categorized as warfare, cannibalism, infanticide, gender violence, and ritualized activity (see, for example, Ames 2001; Askenasy 1994; Beavitt 1997; Carman 1997; Carman and Harding 1999; De Latour 1995; Dolukhanov 1999; Himmelman 1997; Holliman 2001; Keeley 1996; Maschner and Reedy-Maschner 1998; Milner et al. 1991; Ogilve and Hilton 2000; Osgood et al. 2000; Robb 1997; Scott 2001; Shepherd 1999; Walker 1997; Wilkinson 1997; Wilkinson and Van Wagenen 1993; Zimmerman 1997). There is more discussion of warfare than of the other categories. All of these categories, or classification systems, are metanarrative in nature. None of these studies has sought to look at violence in prehistoric context to identify patterns that might support the categories identified. For ease of discussion, the world approach to prehistoric violence is discussed via three main categories of theory and how they relate to the subject. The three theoretical approaches are processualism, postprocessualism, and postmodernism. Processual Approaches to Violence Despite the development in the 1980s of postprocessual thinking, processualism is still prevalent in the world arena of the archaeology of violence (see, for example, BonhageFreund and Kurland 1994; Carman 1997; Keeley 1996; Keegan 1993). This should not be surprising, especially in the study of ancient warfare, because what remains of violent activity is the material of violent processes and a processual approach is perhaps the most straightforward. Tied directly to a processualist mode are the approaches of ethnoarchaeology (direct historical approach) and forensic science. By studying the material remains of violence, scholars seek to not only identify violence but potentially its causal factors as well (social process). They do so with the aid of ethnography by comparing evidence for violence in the present with that of the past (Carman and Harding 1999). A case in point is Beavitt’s (1997) work regarding warfare and the spread of agriculture in Borneo. Here the focus is on the early spread of agriculture as aided by aggressive colonization of lands held by hunter and gatherer groups. Beavitt effectively ties the prehistory of the region to the relatively modern agricultural and deep forest groups. This direct historic approach includes a discussion of the relationship between agriculturists and

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

hunter-gatherers and how warfare may have been a driving factor in the spread of agriculture. Beavitt’s work may also be seen as a study of frontiers and boundaries (Dennell 1985; Green and Perlman 1985; Moore 1985; Rosenberg 1998). Additionally, it includes the concept of agriculture as an invasive agent (Woodbury and Zubrow 1979). In Raid, Retreat, Defend (Repeat): The Archaeology and Ethnohistory of Warfare on the North Pacific Rim, Maschner and Reedy-Maschner (1998) summarize early ethnographic history regarding warfare between the Aleut and Koniag. They then push this information back into prehistory by comparative example. The direct historic approach is, perhaps, the most popular processualist method today (see, for example, Ames 2001; Keegan 1976, 1993; Milner et al. 1991; Scott 2001; Zimmerman 1997). Of particular interest is the dissertation of Shannon Novak (1999) in which data regarding domestic assault was acquired from the Bristol Royal Infirmary, the Salt Lake City police, and medical records in the United States. This modern medical evidence is then used to identify domestic assault in prehistoric skeletal remains.

The rise of bioarchaeology, which relies heavily on processual method, may have also have had an effect on the perpetuation of processualist thought regarding violence (Larsen 1997:1, 2002:119–120; Mays 1998:xiii; Scheuer and Black 2000:ix–x). Bioarchaeology has its beginnings in osteology (Larsen 2002:119), a processual discipline, but has developed beyond bone metrics and racial identity to postprocessual identification and discussion of such topics as diet, infectious disease, physiological stress, dental use, lifestyle, and violence and trauma (Larsen 2002:120). However, since studies of violence rely on human skeletal remains to support assumptions that identical patterns of violent activity will be reflected in the skeletal material, then one might expect that a processual approach to these studies would dominate. This important aspect of analysis of prehistoric violent activity will be discussed further in the conclusion of this chapter. Postprocessual Approaches to Prehistoric Violence In the 1990s, archaeologists began thinking outside the box of processualism. This was done, in part, as a reaction to stagnation within processual thought and increasing doubts that archaeological testing proved anything at all (Johnson 1999:98–101). There also was the perceived need to account for cognitive factors among those cultures being studied (Johnson 1999:98–101). Despite what seems to have been a positive theoretical change, there appears to be a distinct lag in postprocessual thinking in regard to prehistoric violence. Several factors may explain this. First, violence was not central to the thinking of archaeology until the mid-1990s (Keeley 1996). Second, those at the forefront of the study tended to be, and to some extent still are, trained in the processual school (e.g., Carman 1997). Third, it may be perceived by some that a processual approach is well suited to the study of violence.

The application of process and ethnohistory is the most prevalent theoretical approach currently in use, especially in the United States with regard to prehistoric violence in general. It is also most often applied to the study of prehistoric warfare worldwide (see, specifically, Carman 1997; Carman and Harding 1999; Keegan 1993; Keeley 1996). There are, of course, problems with the approach. Specifically, there is a problem with the less-than-cautious use of ethnographic data as a baseline for comparison with the past. Even the most traditional modern populations have been affected dramatically by contact with other cultures, especially Western Europeans. It should not be assumed that ethnographic example may serve as a proxy measure of prehistoric lifeways in general, and perhaps more specifically in regard to violence. Additionally, processualists tend to make broad-sweeping conclusions regarding prehistoric violence, and often the individual is not seen as having an active part in the social process of violence (Johnson 1999:104). Such metanarratives leave little room for alternate explanations, as has been eloquently shown by Hamilton and Manley’s (2001) postprocessual discussion of hillforts in southeastern England. In their consideration, the authors seek a richer understanding of the hillfort beyond simple defense. They look carefully at the landscape in which the forts occur and consider ideological and aesthetic attribute, and their function as central places for trade and ritual activity. Monocausal factors regarding violence are often used to explain its occurrence prehistorically (LeBlanc 1999; Walker 2001; Zimmerman 1997). Further problems arise with the application of predictive models that attempt to chart out the cause or reason for violence in humans. Models seldom account for the variable of human free will and thought processes (Bonhage-Freund and Kurland 1994; Kohler and Van West 2002; Rosenberg 1998). Although there are many more aspects to the processualist approach, space does not allow for in-depth discussion.

Finally, the slow adoption of postprocessual thought is evidenced by the fact that such ideas applied to studies of violence occur mainly after the millennium (Douchette 2001; Hamilton and Manley 2001; Glowaki 2002; Moran 2002; Nordby 2002). Despite this lag, there are a few individuals who have written about prehistoric violence from a postprocessual point of view since the mid-1990s. For instance, Carman (1997:220–239) discusses giving archaeology a moral voice in the final chapter of the collected volume Material Harm. Although the book is dominated by processualist writers, there is a hint at a postprocessual approach. The first paragraph of the final chapter sums this up as follows: The aim of this book—as set out in the preface and the introduction—is to contribute towards the development of a “voice” for archaeology in the important debates of our time. For this purpose, the social sciences (including archaeology) can be seen as moral sciences, since they concern not simply the brute material circumstances of human existence but also how human beings understand

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Chapter 3: History of Research

and manipulate those circumstances. In trying to construct a ‘moral’ archaeology, the aim is not to impose either on people in the past or on people in the present a particular moral order (i.e. a set of prescriptions on how people ought to behave or think) but to add to our understanding of how people have behaved and thought at different times and places in the past, how they behave and think now, and why this should be so [Carman 1997:220].

deal with political, social and generally ideological links among men. These may have left traces in the archaeological record, but at best only a few. One’s inquiry into the hillforts starts with questions derived from the above assumptions. Was there social differentiation? Of what nature and range? How was it reflected in the material culture? Do hillforts have a meaning, or different meanings, and depending on what? [Oosterbeek 1997:121–122].

The discussion centers on giving archaeology a moral voice, but the concept of not imposing our morals on the past and understanding past behavior are postprocessual in nature. Another case in point can be found in Brothwell (1999:25–38), who presents a study of the biosocial and bioarchaeological aspects of violence. His main theoretical approach is clearly processual in nature, with a heavy reliance on the direct historic approach, but he presents a list of divisions in violent behavior that can only be classified as cognitive in nature. He lists the divisions as:

The major problem with postprocessual approaches to the archaeology of violence lies in the extrapolation of prehistoric thought/cognitive processes from the material remains of an extinct culture. Such extrapolation and interpretation are never without modern bias and must be viewed as circumstantial at best. According to Johnson (1999:102–108), this is expected by postprocessualists, who point out that archaeologists always interpret the record, and do so from a biased position. The problem lies in interpretation, which is often colored by Western European thought. This is one of the main objections that postmodernists have regarding anthropological theory in general.

• Fear induced aggression leading to defensive action may be threatening or as a counter attack;

Postmodernism and Prehistoric Violence

• Maternal aggression is concerned with feeding;

The postmodern approach in archaeology confronts most of Western European thinking, and the rejection of the metanarrative. It seeks to deconstruct the barriers between disciplines, and questions if there is any single truth or fact (Johnson 1999:162–167). This certainly runs parallel to some of the aspects of postprocessualism, but it is not the same. The increased interest in interpersonal violence could perhaps be linked to the postmodern focus on the individual (e.g., Roksandic et al. 2006:347). Perhaps the greatest advances in postmodern thought as applied to archaeology, and the archaeology of violence, has occurred in gender studies (see, specifically, Arnold and Wicker 2001). These studies, however, cannot be seen as entirely postmodern because often at the heart of the argument is processual or postprocessual method (Douchette 2001; O’Gorman 2001; Holliman 2001; Nikolaidou and Kokkinidou 1997; Novak 1999; Shepherd 1999). Regardless of processual and postprocessual methods in assessing data, the writings of these authors can be considered to be postmodern for numerous reasons. First, they stand outside of the androcentric work that has dominated archaeology since its inception (rejection of Western European thought). Second, the writers present their arguments by using thoughts and methods from outside traditional disciplinary boundaries (deconstruction). Johnson states that the archaeology of gender:

• Predatory aggression is concerned with feeding; • Territorial aggression is for defense or expansion of territory; • Dominance aggression is concerned with attaining rank (rank ordering can help to maintain stability and peace in group); • Angry aggression is perhaps equivalent to the original frustration-aggression hypothesis, and the violation of a norm may produce ‘rage reaction’ (Brothwell 1999:27). Such identifiers as fear, dominance, and anger are all emotions and as such are beyond the pale of processualism. Going further into postprocessual thought is Luiz Oosterbeek’s study of Mediterranean Chalcolithic hillforts (Oosterbeek 1997:116–132). In his broad discussion of hillforts, Oosterbeek seeks not only to identify their place in the archaeological record, but also to ascribe meaning to them. He rejects early notions of societal development, such as the stage system of development from tribe to chiefdom or city-state, because the “study of prehistory has suffered from this bias, and still partially does” (Oosterbeek 1997:121). He goes on to state that:

…encompasses several different themes. These include: correction of male bias in archaeology; a critique of existing structures of archaeological practice; a reassessment of the history of archaeology; an examination of gender in the archaeological record; and a critique of what is seen

When discussing the origin of war and violence in human societies one should first of all avoid all previous assumptions of this kind and clearly define what one intends to clarify. War and violence are not directly reflected by material culture, because they

31

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

as the male-biased nature of academic knowledge and the academic world in general [Johnson 1999:118].

the United States, however, the trend among postmodern archaeologists studying Native American cultures is to include the mythology of the descendants of the prehistoric culture. This approach certainly can be useful but it also may muddy the waters when the mythology counters the archaeological evidence. If mythology is accepted as equally representing a truth, then the material evidence that indicates the archaeological invalidity or inaccuracy of the myth must be dismissed (see Johnson 1999:166–167).

O’Gorman’s (2001:23–49) Life, Death, and the Longhouse: A Gendered View of Oneota Social Organization is a condensed version of her dissertation research. Although the work only touches on violence (as a mechanism for the creation of social inequality between men and women and between groups of women), it is a clear reflection of gender studies and feminist archaeology. The study looks closely at human burials at a single site and at the perceived similarities and differences between individuals and household groups based on the number and types of associated burial goods. Her objective is to clarify the status of females at the site using the same criteria traditionally used to identify the status of males. A problem with this study is the assumption that grave goods are an indicator of social status, which suggests that O’Gorman is applying Western bias and values to the society she is studying.

History of Research: The Anasazi The study of Anasazi archaeology has led to many insights regarding religious structure, settlement, and subsistence patterns, and how these aspects of life grew into a complex sociopolitical system. In over 100 years of study, however, an important aspect of Anasazi life has been marginalized and ignored: violence and the role violence held in the daily lives of this ancient people. This picture began to change in the 1990s, but the pendulum appears to have swung from marginalization to sensationalism with regard to violence, given the broad coverage in the popular press and eye-catching book titles (although with excellent content for the most part). Within the archaeological community there has finally been recognition that violence may have played an important role in the initial formation of the Anasazi culture, its maintenance, and its eventual collapse (LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999; Wilcox and Haas 1994).

Douchette (2001:159–177) focuses on a particular type of grave good, the atlatl, and associated atlatl weights from two sites as the baseline for her gender discussion. At the heart of her study is a reevaluation of the history of archaeology through examples of previous androcentric interpretations of these artifacts. When found in male graves, they have been identified as weapons for warfare or hunting. When recovered from female graves, however, there has been a tendency to identify them as anything but what they are (i.e., as hair pins or fish net needles) largely because of their identification early in the history of American archaeology, when the field, and thinking was truly male dominated (Douchette 2001:159–165). Douchette’s basic point is that women certainly could have used the atlatl and this seems to be supported by the physical evidence.

With few exceptions (Thorpe 2003; Guilane and Zammit 2005; Parker-Pearson and Thorpe 2005) very little has been done beyond the basic recognition that violence had a role in prehistory, but there has been a definite move to categorize Anasazi violence in one of four areas: warfare, cannibalism (or witch execution), violence against women, and ritualized violence (see, for example, Kuckelman et al. 2002; Lekson 2002; LeBlanc 1999; Ogilve and Hilton 2000; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999; Wilcox and Haas 1994). These categories are all similar to those outlined in the world approach to prehistoric violence. Warfare has been discussed cursorily as a potential cause of local abandonment since the beginning of archaeological inquiry in the Anasazi region. Only recently has there been an attempt to study warfare specifically and understand the role it may have had in the formation and demise of this culture (LeBlanc, 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Wilcox and Haas 1994).

Outside of the study of gender, there have been few advances in the study of prehistoric violence from a postmodernist view. Exceptions to this are Tarlow’s (1997:133–142) excellent essay regarding the symbolic meaning of Christian grave desecration by the Vikings, and Shepherd’s (1999:219–244) work regarding the culture of the warrior. It may be that prehistoric violence has not been in the purview of postmodernists. If this is the case, then a similar lag to that noted among postprocessualists may be cited. Problems with a postmodern approach to the study of violence are numerous, and space allows only for the discussion of the most prominent of these. First, several of the writings reviewed here tend to move from the subject at hand (i.e., prehistoric violence) to a broad discussion of androcentrism. Although this may be a minor point, it becomes problematic when attempting to research a particular issue from a postmodern point of view. Secondly, it seems that deconstructing the separations between disciplines may become, at times, counterproductive. This problem is not reflected here, because no published material could be found that would illustrate the problem. In

The most pertinent work in recent years is that of Le Blanc (1999), which seeks to identify and address violence among all prehistoric Southwestern people. This approach has various strengths and weaknesses. By taking a panSouthwestern approach, LeBlanc created a large database from published datasets and identified cross-cultural patterns. LeBlanc identifies various means by which warfare can be evinced in the archaeological record, including human remains, fortifications, weapons, and settlement pat-

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Chapter 3: History of Research

terns. Much of his work derives from Keeley (1996), who is also discussed here. LeBlanc’s main posit is that warfare can be directly tied to environmental stress, which he shows through an extensive review of the environmental record across the American Southwest. In his view, relative peace was present when the environment was good, and intense warfare was present when the environment was poor. According to Le Blanc:

and probable warrior classes in the late period of occupation. The final chapter is a consideration of warfare in the Southwest and on worldwide terms by Lawrence Keeley. This summation is well written and the author spends time discussing Southwestern warfare in depth. The two aforementioned works, along with many others, are based primarily upon the seminal work published in 1996 by Lawrence Keeley. Though Keeley’s work has been heavily critiqued, it is nevertheless key to the study of prehistoric warfare, and despite its worldwide focus, it does take into account the Anasazi. Additionally, the influence this work has had on the development of the study justifies a more in-depth discussion of this book. Keeley’s key point is that warfare was not only present prehistorically, it was particularly lethal as well. He contrasts this point to the prevailing view (at the time of his writing) that warfare among prehistoric (“uncivilized”) groups was largely showmanship, infrequent, and very rarely deadly. Through cross-cultural, worldwide examples including the Anasazi, Keeley shows how war was likely fought prehistorically, including raids, ambushes, and surprise attacks. He does not use the term “guerilla warfare,” but it is implicit that prehistoric warfare used similar tactics. Keeley is not satisfied to simply point out that war was present and prevalent prehistorically, rather he also looks at the potential gains and serious losses that a prehistoric society would face as a result of war. The loss of prime-aged males in battle obviously has repercussions on the gene pool and economic impacts regardless of who the victor is. In similar terms, Keeley points out that loss/gain of adult females of reproductive age had major impacts. Other factors include the gain/loss of territory, which could literally mean the difference between group survival and extinction. Within this setting, then, Keeley goes on to discuss the context of war, relying heavily on the “one bad apple” concept of aggression. This leads to a discussion of peace, times of reduced warfare, and the fragile nature of the idea of peace.

The environmental explanation for prehistoric Southwestern warfare, simply put, is that the region’s population size was, in general, closely related to the carrying capacity. Over long spans of time, changes in carrying capacity must have affected the number of people that could be supported. Over short intervals, successive bad years must have resulted in food stress approaching starvation, and outbreaks of warfare were likely to have ensued [Le Blanc 1999:32]. Another important aspect of the Le Blanc work as it relates to this study is his statement that “prehistoric Southwestern warfare seems to be patterned and that this patterning will turn out to be explainable” (Le Blanc 1999:32). Thus, even in the broad and metanarrative sense, previous authors have suspected patterns related to violence. The major weakness of LeBlanc’s approach is that it appears to be environmentally deterministic and does not explore other potential reasons for the development of the violent activities he identifies. Additionally, the broad approach both spatially and temporally used in his study precludes the analysis of smaller areas in more refined temporal increments. More recently, Glen Rice and Steve LeBlanc served as the editors of a book of short papers regarding warfare in the American Southwest. In Deadly Landscapes, there is an article about Anasazi warfare, along with a paper regarding late Puebloan warfare in the El Morro valley of New Mexico. These articles present work regarding single sites, collections of sites, or subregions the authors have studied.

There are specific problems with Keeley’s work. A worldwide approach is certainly understandable in terms of Keeley’s quest to dispel the “pacification of the past,” but this type of approach leads to broad generalizations that may not hold true for individual cultures. Additionally, narrowing the scope in terms of conclusions associated with the “bad apple” approach avoids numerous other possibilities for the occurrence of warfare, including environmental stress, religious differences, and group dissent, to name a few. Despite these problems, Keeley’s work has set the stage upon which much work relating to prehistoric warfare is based.

The Anasazi paper focuses on a single site, Castle Rock Pueblo, a late Pueblo III ruin in southwestern Colorado. The site was located on a defensive mesa top and may have been fortified. Based on excavation data, the site was clearly attacked, burned, and abandoned in the A.D. 1300s. The unequivocal evidence includes unburied bodies and burned structures. In contrast to this example of a single site, a group of sites on Perry Mesa, in Arizona, is the subject of a subregional exploration. The Perry Mesa group is analyzed in terms of its setting, interrelation of sites on the mesa, and possible reasons that the site group may represent a defensive alliance formation. Of particular interest is the possibility that the mesa was not only defensive, but also served as a base from which offensive attacks could have been made. A chapter on rock art related to warfare is particularly important, as it ties symbolism to artifacts

Cannibalism has become a popular study focused on one aspect of the Anasazi burial population: heavily disarticulated/butchered human remains (Bullock 1998; Turner 1983, 1988, 1989, 1992, 1993; Turner and Morris 1970; Turner and Turner 1999; Turner et al. 1994; White 1992). By using taphonomic analysis of skeletal elements recov-

33

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

ered from 76 sites, Turner and Turner (1999) identify two classes of burials, as indicated by the title Man Corn: Cannibalism and Violence in the Prehistoric American Southwest. The material is a mixture of human remains studied directly by the Turners, and analysis of materials reported in the literature that are no longer available for study. Turner and Turner emphasize a very strict set of identifiers for application to the skeletal remains. If the criteria were not met, then the skeletal material was identified as violent. In this way they separate 35 cases of “cannibalism” from the remainder that are identified as “violent” or “unknown.” Cultural group and subregion separate these cases across the Southwest. Following Tim White (1992), the Turners look at similarities between animal butchering practice and human butchering practice as one of the guidelines for the identification of cannibalism. The Turners then go on to discuss the potential causes for such behavior. These, according to the authors, include ritual, social strife, environmental pressure, and warfare. Ultimately, they identify cannibalism as cult behavior derived from and heavily influenced by Mesoamerican culture, the Toltecs in particular. The Turners propose a “killer cannibal cult” as the driving force behind cannibalism. They push the concept that this cult was centered at Chaco Canyon, and was prevalent during the Pax Chaco period (Pueblo II).

southwestern Colorado with heavily disarticulated bodies and a fecal sample that may be human. The conclusion of the article is that the site clearly represents cannibalism. In the same journal issue, there is a critique of the article, rejecting the cannibalism claim (Dongoske et al. 2000) on the basis of little theoretical perspective, weak empirical data, and a lack of consideration of alternative explanations. This latter point is especially true with regard to the fecal matter that is not demonstrably human (indeed it could well be canid) and the protein tests that were done by only one lab without independent confirmation. Concomitant studies seeking to illuminate violence against women is a substudy that is currently still in its infancy, with only a handful of articles written or references to the possible mistreatment of women prehistorically (LeBlanc 1999; Martin 1997). Whether these categories are real or modern/academic constructs still remains to be seen, but these categories are important baselines for future inquiry and are discussed in the concluding chapter. The development of a study of violence among the Anasazi has its beginnings in the early exploration of the American Southwest and builds to current studies that are fully devoted to the topic (Table 2 through Table 9). Events at the time researchers were conducting work have created an interesting history that will be explored in this chapter. Increases and decreases in the frequency of mention of violence appear to be strongly tied to synchronous sociopolitical trends constituting an example of how we as researchers are affected by the times we live in (Johnson 1999:107). This is not to say that research into the topic of violence was only dictated by the political and social events of the time, but it is clear that social upheaval did and does impact what we as archaeologists pursue in the archaeological record.

The antithesis of Turner’s ongoing work is a dissertation by J. Andrew Darling (1995) entitled Mass Inhumation and the Execution of Witches in the American Southwest. Darling, building on earlier work of Shane Baker (1988) proposes that the same assemblages that Turner and Turner discuss as cannibalism, may in fact be something entirely different. Darling’s dissertation is the first major work in which mass inhumation (read heavily disarticulated and burned bodies) may be the result of the execution of individuals and groups accused of witchcraft. Darling draws heavily on early ethnographic accounts, including one eyewitness report of a witch trial, and Puebloan mythology to make his case. Darling points out that the concept of cannibalism is revolting and taboo among the Puebloan people today, and was recorded as such in the early ethnographies. He goes on to exclude other possible explanations, such as warfare, because at the time there was a serious lack of evidence. Using primary data from an excavation at Yellow Jacket Colorado, and sources from the literature, Darling shows how the destruction of human bodies in mythology can be directly tied to the heavy disarticulation noted in these sites. He notes that the bone is reduced far beyond the need to retrieve marrow, and thus suggests ritual involvement. He concludes that this was an attempt by the Bow Priests, or their prehistoric counterparts, to find the “evil heart,” which could be located anywhere in the body. In addressing why there can be multiple burials of all ages and sexes, Darling again presents ethnographic evidence that if one person in a family was accused of being a witch, it was likely that the entire family was made up of witches.

Accounts of Anasazi Violence 1870–1945 Between 1870 and the early 1920s, archaeology in the Southwest was beginning to develop. From early exploration and discovery of ruins to the excavation and building of developmental schemes, this period was the cornerstone for all work that followed. Theoretically, it was the period of Materialism, Diffusionism, early Structuralism, and early Marxism (Johnson 1999). Many of the writings reflect these theoretical approaches strongly. This was also the end of the Victorian Era in America, and Victorian morals and sensibilities played heavily in the study of prehistory. The removal of Native Americans to reservations and the feeling that the “Wild West” was no longer a frontier led to a longing for things lost. This included Native Americans, who were painted in literature as Noble Savages or as a people “at one with the earth” (Axtell 1981:xv–xi; Jovanovich 1971:vii). Despite this rose-colored view of Native Americans, violence found its way into much of the early literature, including Anasazi studies (see Table 1). Often it was cursorily mentioned in the middle of a large publication with no additional discussion. For instance, Holmes

Conversely, an article in the journal American Antiquity (Billman et al. 2000) discusses the excavations of a site in

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Chapter 3: History of Research

(1878) and Jackson (1876) both point out that the cliff dwellings of the northern portion of the Anasazi region “must have” been places of defense and refuge.

later analysis. The material remains were used to define cultures and while violence was recognized, it is likely that it was seen as ancillary to understanding the cultures in general. This development was directly related to the Noble Savage construct and largely based on ethnographies of modern Pueblo people (cf. Benedict 1930, 1934; Voth 1905, 1912).

By the 1930s, Southwestern archaeology had progressed significantly (Cordell 1997:154–164). Though still heavily steeped in description, these descriptions were thorough. Evidence of violence, however, is simply outlined with no more than one or two paragraphs and very little interpretation (see Table 2 for salient references). A particularly good example of this type of description is found in Morris:

The following tables, organized by period, present the reports in which violence is mentioned. These data include the name of the author or investigator, the year of the report, and geographic location (based on modern state boundaries). The tables also offer the level of inquiry the report represents, such as survey or excavation. Finally, the last column describes what evidence triggered the mention in the report. In some cases the investigator identified what he or she thought was the defensive nature of a site, in others the author identified skeletal trauma (identified as “violence” in the tables).

Occupying most of the area beneath Rooms 3 and 4, and continuing westward beyond their limits, was a pit 2.45 m in diameter and 90 cm deep. The earth fill contained some refuse and a quantity of human bones. The skulls of four adults, arm and leg bones of an adolescent, a clavicle and radius of a small child showed that the bones were representative of at least six persons. The heads of three of the adults had been split crosswise just forward of the coronal suture, the other from back to front in the median line. With few exceptions, the large bones and many of the small ones as well, had been split and cracked into pieces. They had the dead white appearance characteristic of bones that have been cooked, or freed from the soft parts before being covered with earth. This was not the bleach resulting from sunlight. A minor portion were browned, and some charred from exposure to fire [Morris 1939:105].

At the onset of World War II, an interesting phenomenon arose regarding Anasazi violence in the literature; references to it all but cease (see Table 4). Clearly, less archaeology was being practiced in those years, but a large number of archaeological reports were written nonetheless (McGregor 1982). It appears that the sentiment of the time was about peace, perhaps reflecting a reaction to the previous political situation. When it is mentioned at all, as with the preceding period, violence is discussed in a cursory fashion and is descriptive in nature. For instance, despite the title Early Stockaded Settlements in the Governador New Mexico, Edward Hall only touches on the stockades he encountered during excavation, stating “the writer can see no reason other than a defensive one for the stockades” (Hall 1944:28). He does describe the stockades at length but does not address why large portions of them were burned at abandonment (along with the pithouses and surface rooms contained within them). In fairness, Hall was attempting to define a subculture of the Anasazi, working in an area where little work had been undertaken. Yet it is interesting that the stockades impressed him enough to include them in title of his report.

Morris then goes on to interpret the find, without formal osteological analysis, as the result of a cannibalistic orgy. No further discussion of this find is found within the 298page document. Most archaeologists working at that time either did not recognize the evidence for what it was, or simply ignored it under the developing belief that the Anasazi were peaceful farmers (Larralde 1998:11). It should be remembered that this period in archaeological study was centered on the collection of material remains for museum display and

Table 2. Anasazi Investigations Citing Reference to Violence Prior to A.D. 1900 Author/Investigator

Year

Location

Level of Inquiry

Type Identified

Holmes, W.H.

1878

Colorado

Survey

Defense

Jackson, W.H.

1876

Colorado

Survey

Defense

Newberry, J.S.

1876

General

Survey

Defense

Bandelier, A.F.A.

1892

General

Survey

Defense

Nordenskiöld, G.

1893

Colorado

Excavation

Defense/violence

Fewkes, J.W.

1893

Arizona

Survey

Violence

Wetherill, R.

1894

Utah

Excavation

Violence

Wetherill, R.

1894

Colorado

Excavation

Violence

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism Table 3. Anasazi Investigations Citing Reference to Violence, A.D. 1900–1920 Author/Investigator

Year

Location

Level of Inquiry

Type Identified

Hough, W.

1903

Arizona

Excavation

Violence/Defense

Morley, S.G.

1908

Colorado

Excavation

Violence

Fewkes, J.W.

1909

Colorado

Excavation

Violence/Defense

Pepper, G. H.

1909

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

Fewkes, J.W.

1911

Colorado

Excavation

Violence/Defense

Morris, E.H.

1919

New Mexico

Excavation

Defense

Kidder A.V/ Guernsey, S. J.

1919

Arizona

Excavation

Violence

Pepper, G. H.

1920

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

Table 4. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence to Violence, A.D. 1920–1940 Author/Investigator

Year

Location

Level of Inquiry

Type Identified

Guernsey, S. J./ A.V. Kidder

1921

Arizona

Excavation

Defense

Fewkes, J.W.

1922

Colorado

Excavation

Violence

Morris, E.H.

1924

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

Roberts, F.H.H.a

1926

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

Reagan, A.B.

1928

Arizona

Roberts, F.H.H.

1929

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

Martin, P. S.

1929

Colorado

Excavation

Violence

Morris, E.H.

1929

Utah/Arizona

Excavation

Violence

Roberts, F.H.H.

1930

Colorado

Excavation

Violence

Roberts, F.H.H.

1931

Arizona

Excavation

Violence

Roberts, F.H.H.

1932

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

Morris, A.A.

1933

Arizona

Excavation

Violence

Bartlett, K.

1934

Arizona

Excavation

Violence

Morris, E.H.

1938

Arizona

Excavation

Violence

Kluckhohn, C.

1939

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

Morris, E.H.

1939

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

Roberts, F.H.H.

1939/1940

Arizona

Excavation

Violence

Martin, P.S,/ J.B. Renaldo

1939

Colorado

Excavation

Violence

Blumenthal, E.H. Jr.

1940

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

a

a

a

Defense

As reported by Turner and Turner 1999

Table 5. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence of Violence, World War II Author/Investigator Steward, J.H. Hall, E.T., Jr. Hibben, F.C.a a

Year 1941 1944 1944

Location Utah New Mexico New Mexico

Level of Inquiry Survey Excavation Excavation

Type Identified Defense Defense Violence

As reported by Turner and Turner 1999

Accounts of Anasazi Violence 1945–1965

1940s and 1950s were still associated with the earlier theoretical approaches but theoretical change was underway. By the early 1960s, “new archaeology” (processualism) became dominant (Johnson 1999:15), yet violence remained quite peripheral to discussions of culture process. Indeed, while other aspects of Anasazi prehistory were be-

Following World War II, there was a steady increase in references to violence among the Anasazi, but in the vast majority of cases this did not go beyond description of the material evidence. This is somewhat surprising, given the radical changes in theory during those years. The late

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Chapter 3: History of Research

ing developed as systems and the systems were developed into concepts of process, violence was left behind. This occurred even with the advent of cultural resource management (salvage archaeology) in the late 1950s, which almost immediately increased the output of archaeological work being completed (see Table 6). It might be expected that the increased fieldwork in turn increased the number of reported incidences of violence. Reviewing the literature from this period reveals that the evidence of violence was minimally described or overlooked entirely. Reports reviewed for this study indicate that the evidence of violence is present in many of these publications, in osteological appendices for instance, though the author often does not directly mention it.

concept found new meaning at that time. Living in peace with nature and each other was an ideal that found a wide voice in the American public by the early 1970s. Evidence of prehistoric violence clearly did not fit this image, and the result was the rebirth of a “pacification of the past” (Keeley 1996).

Accounts of Anasazi Violence 1966–1995

Accounts of Anasazi Violence 1995–Present

The advent of American involvement in Vietnam had a profound effect on the discussions of violence, as did the social movements of the time. There is a marked decrease in the mention of violence between 1966 and 1975, arguably because of the culmination of the war in Southeast Asia. The hippy movement also sought to be in touch with the earth, and all things natural. The Noble Savage

Only in the past 10 years have texts that are completely devoted to forms of Anasazi violence entered the archaeological literature on a broad scale. These studies are outlined here. Martin and Frayer (1997) edited Troubled Times, which is an excellent world compendium of prehistoric violence. Only a single essay is pertinent to the current study, but the book contains description and inter-

Postprocessualism did little to boost the number of studies, nor did it bring any fresh approaches to the study of Anasazi violence. The majority of focused writing regarding the topic has occurred since the rise of postprocessualism, but most of the writing appears to fall within the processual school of thought (LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001).

Table 6. Anasazi Investigations Citing Violence, World War II to the Height of the Vietnam War Author/Investigator Gladwin, H.S. Brew, J.O. Smith, W. Lockett, H.C./ L.L. Hargrave Judd, N.M. Lancaster et al. Morris, E.H./ R.F. Burgh Schroeder, A.H. Fenenga, F./ F. Wendorf Peckham et al. Olson, A.P./ W.W. Wasley Lister et al. Rudy, J.R. Bullard, W.R., Jr. Carlson, R.L. Lindsay, A.J., Jr. et al. Lister, R.H. Lister, R.H.a a

Year 1945 1946 1952 1953

Location New Mexico Utah Arizona Arizona

Level of Inquiry Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation

Type Identified Violence Violence Violence Violence

1954 1954 1954

New Mexico Colorado Colorado

Excavation Excavation Excavation

Violence Violence Violence

1955 1956

Utah Colorado

Excavation Excavation

Violence Violence

1956 1956

New Mexico New Mexico

Excavation Excavation

Violence Violence

1959–1961 1961 1962 1963 1963

Utah Utah New Mexico Colorado Utah

Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation

Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence

1964 1965

Colorado Colorado

Excavation Excavation

Violence Violence

As reported by Turner and Turner 1999

37

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism Table 7. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence of Violence at the Height of the Vietnam War Author/Investigator Eddy, F.W. Frisbie, T.R. Mueller, J.W. Adams, C.E. Pilles, P.J. Nickens, P.R. Eddy, F.W.

Year 1966 1967 1969 1973 1974 1974 1974

Location New Mexico New Mexico Arizona Arizona Arizona Colorado New Mexico

pretation by a wide array of authors with varying theoretical backgrounds. Deciphering Anasazi Violence, edited by Peter Bullock (1998) is a small collection of essays that compare violent activity among the Anasazi to similar activities in the eastern United States and Mesoamerica. Steven LeBlanc’s text Prehistoric Warfare in the American Southwest (1999) is a structured focus on the evidence for warfare and avoids other forms of violence. It serves as a sort of compendium of data by period with little interpretation, though more than in previous texts. Turner

Level of Inquiry Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation

Type Identified Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence

and Turner (1999) have focused on a different aspect of violence, which they identify as evidence of cannibalism. Deadly Landscapes (2001) edited by Rice and LeBlanc, contains numerous descriptions and interpretations of data regarding violence across the prehistoric Southwest. Although only one essay is applicable to the Anasazi, this text is perhaps the first of its kind to place the importance of context and interpretation of potential meaning on equal footing with description.

Table 8. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence of Violence, End of Vietnam to 1995 Author/Investigator Flinn et al. Chase, J. Mackey, J./ R.C. Green Nickens, P.R. Morris, E.A. Cattanach, G.S., Jr. Sink, C.W. et al. Nass, G./ N. Bellantoni Leubben, R.A./ P.R. Nickens Anyon, R. Irwin-Williams, C./ P.H. Shelly Anyon, R./ B. Robertson Olszewski, D. Sink, C.W. et al. McKenna, P. Wilshusen, R.H. Pippin, L.C. White, T. Lipe, W. et al. Lange, F.W. et al. Baker, S. Grant, S.

Year 1976 1976 1979

Location New Mexico New Mexico New Mexico

Level of Inquiry Excavation Excavation Excavation

Type Identified Violence Violence Violence

1979 1980 1980 1982 1982

Colorado Arizona Colorado Arizona Utah

Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation

Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence

1982

Colorado

Excavation

Violence

1983 1983

New Mexico New Mexico

Excavation Excavation

Violence Violence

1983

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

1984 1984 1984 1986 1987 1988 1988 1988 1988 1989

Arizona Arizona New Mexico Colorado New Mexico Utah Colorado Colorado Utah New Mexico

Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation

Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence

38

Chapter 3: History of Research Table 8. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence of Violence, End of Vietnam to 1995, continued Author/Investigator Malville, N.J. Cater, J.D. Lightfoot, R. Schlanger, S.H./ R.H. Wilshusen Ogilvie, M./ T. Hilton Cater, J.D./ W.L. Shields Errickson, M. Morris, J.N. et al. Varien, M.D./ K.A. Kuckelman Turner, C.G. et al. Turner, C.G. et al. Haas, J./W. Creamer Fletcher, T.F. Cater, J.D. Turner, C.G./ J.A.Turner Turner, C.G./ J.A.Turner Turner, C.G./ J.A.Turner Turner, C.G./ J.A.Turner Lightfoot, R./ K. Kuckelman Akins, N.J.

Year 1989 1989 1990 1990

Location Colorado Colorado Colorado General

Level of Inquiry Excavation Excavation Excavation General

Type Identified Violence Violence Violence Violence

1992

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

1992

New Mexico

Survey

Violence/Defense

1993 1993 1993

Colorado Colorado General

Excavation Excavation General

Violence Violence Violence

1993 1993 1993 1994 1995 1995

New Mexico New Mexico Arizona Arizona New Mexico Arizona

Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation Excavation

Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence Violence

1995

Arizona

Excavation

Violence

1995

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

1995

Arizona

Excavation

Violence

1995

Colorado

Excavation

Violence

1995

New Mexico

Excavation

Violence

the study of prehistoric violence are obscured in the gross nature of the figure, and these can be more clearly seen in Figure 21.

Interpretations How can the history of the study of Anasazi violence be interpreted in its historic context? If the number of references to violence is charted against events that were taking place when archaeological work was being conducted, some interesting correlations may be made.

Figure 21 presents a time line separated in five-year increments. Clearly, the results may be due to statistical chance because of the small number of references to violence in these periods, but it should be remembered that hundreds and later thousands of sites were being investigated and written about. It may be seen that in the earliest explorations of hundreds of archaeological sites in the American Southwest (1876–1880) there were three reported mentions of violence. There is no mention of violence at all between 1880 and 1890. Historically there were several reasons that this may have occurred. In the late 1870s and into the early 1880s the United States reached the culmination of the Indian Wars, resulting in the creation of Native American reservations. Additionally, the American West was reaching the apex of the settlement period. Finally, little archaeology was being practiced in those years in the

Figure 20 graphically depicts the ebb and flow of the study of Anasazi violence from the beginning of archaeological inquiry to the present. The figure presents the history in gross 20-year increments with the exception of the period around World War II which was singled out to depict how the war years appear to have affected the number of studies that made mention of violence. In this chart it is also clear that there was growing mention of violence in the period between 1922 and 1940. This corresponds to the “Golden Era” of archaeology in the American Southwest when the majority of exploration and excavation was being conducted. Other events that appear to have impacted

39

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism Table 9. Anasazi Investigations Citing Evidence of Violence, 1999 to Present Author/Investigator LeBlanc, S.A. Turner, C.G./ J.A. Turner Rice, G.E./ S.A. LeBlanc Kuckelman

Year 1999 1999

Location General General

Level of Inquiry General General

Type Identified Violence/Defense Violence

2001

General

General

Violence/Defense

2002

Colorado

Excavation

Violence

American Southwest. Violence is mentioned in the fiveyear period between 1890 and 1895 also known as the “Gay 90s” in Victorian America and then the mention of violence once again disappears between 1895 and 1900. It is possible that the advent of the Spanish American War had an influence on these discussions, and the Panic of 1893 and subsequent economic depression may have curtailed funding for archaeological work. The discussion of violence remained low, but steady between 1902 and 1910.

ogy to expand in terms of the numbers of sites investigated. The dip attributed to World War II is evident in Figure 20. In Figure 21 it can be seen that three reports discuss violence to some degree during the period 1940 to 1945. These reports were written in 1940, 1941, and 1944. Thus, we see reports at the beginning of the war for the United States and we see them again at what is arguably the end of the war. It is somewhat surprising that there is a lull in the period between 1945 and 1950. Archaeology was once again booming in this period and with this increase one might have expected greater mention of violence. It is possible that this represents an “aftershock” event from World War II, when people who had survived the war wanted to have nothing to do with thoughts of violence (consciously or unconsciously).

The period between 1910 and 1920 deserves special attention. It would appear that between 1910 and 1915 discussions of violence dropped, then increased between 1915 and 1920. This would seem counterintuitive since the United States entered World War I in June 1917. But referring back to Table 2, it will be noted that these reports were written just prior to (1911) and immediately following (1919, 1920) World War I.

Of interest is the fact that the Korean Conflict (1950– 1953) did not depress the number of mentions of violence in the literature. Often called “America’s Forgotten War” it is possible that even during the conflict there was little social impact. The peak, valley, and peak between 1955 and 1965 cannot be easily explained, but the valley between 1965 and 1975 may be attributed to the climax of the war in Vietnam and the hippy movement. Since 1975, the mention of violence in archaeological reports has been on a steady increase. The period between 1975 and 2001 indicates the increase in studies regarding violence. Since

Once again the mention of violence in the literature climbed, and by 1930 more reports than ever before had made some reference to prehistoric violence. The drop between 1930 and 1935 is directly attributable to the onset of the Great Depression. The fact that the mention of violence did not disappear entirely in this period is likely due to the fact that many people found work in government-supported archaeological jobs in those years, allowing archaeol-

Figure 20. Trends in the study of Anasazi violence.

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Chapter 3: History of Research

Figure 21. Reference to total number of sites mentioning violence (five-year increments). September 11, 2001, world events have directly impacted upon the continued discussion of violence prehistorically.

regarding the Anasazi may be a good indication of this possibility (see, for example, Cordell 1997). Whether it is one or both of these, or some unknown cause, changes in research interest do not lessen the importance of the need to continue studying the subject and refining the methods used to address questions regarding violence.

The discussion of violence in the literature between 2002 and 2006 suggests another steady decline in discussion of violence since the major publications of 1999 and 2001 (LeBlanc, 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999), but an increase in such discussion in other parts of the world (Guilane and Zammit 2005; Parker-Pearson and Thorpe 2005; Roksandic et al. 2006; Thorpe 2003). It appears that the advent of war in Afghanistan and Iraq may be causing this decline in the United States as the social conscience seeks more pleasant topics. The concept of prehistoric violence may once again be fading in importance with regard to current research. Another distinct possibility is that violence has now been accepted as part of the Anasazi culture and there is no further need to discuss the topic. The fact that violence appears in general syntheses

Conclusion Archaeologists and anthropologists are inextricably bound by the times in which they live. This chapter has attempted to show how theoretical approaches and events like world wars affect the study of prehistoric violence in the American Southwest. In defining postprocessual archaeology, Matthew Johnson states:

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

The meanings we produce are always in the political present, and always have political resonance. Interpreting the past is always a political act. For postprocessualists, if scientific neutrality is a myth, then our statements about the past are never cool objective judgements detached from the real world. They are always made here, in the present, with all its heady and complicated, jumbled mixture of political and moral judgements [Johnson 1999:107].

Perhaps the study of violence will become passé in time, but this seems unlikely. As we realize what violence is and what its impact is on our society today, we will also begin to understand the very important role it played in past cultures. By looking backward to past cultures and their experiences with violence, we can try to avoid the same pitfalls in our own culture. In summary, then, it is possible to trace the history of the study of Anasazi violence through a thorough literature review. This forms the basis of the current study. There have been various levels of inquiry in the past but none has looked in great detail at violence in terms of patterns or potential cultural meaning. Violence is simply something in the background of more important issues such as establishing chronologies and typing pottery. Yet it is my firm belief that one cannot truly get at these issues without including violence as a central figure in the formation of culture, and in the ultimate demise of culture. As a young undergraduate and student of Dr. Joe Ben Wheat, I was told that there simply was no evidence of violence among the Anasazi. Even then I had to take issue with that argument. Burned sites containing bodies with evidence of perimortem, and in some cases postmortem, trauma are not accidents, and they occur in frequencies that do not allow them to be considered anomalies. The Peaceful Farmer is a myth. It is this myth that has led to this study. Not only the literature, but personal encounters with archaeological deposits that can best be described as representing violence drive this study. Furthermore, it is not enough to simply say there was violence among the Anasazi, leaving it lurking in the background of broader studies, but it is important to try and understand what part violence played in their lives. Thus, this book focuses on identifying potential patterns within the archaeological record that may aid in this understanding. How, then, can potential patterns be brought to light? As will be shown, focusing on context highlights patterning in Anasazi violence. The context, in which human remains with evidence of trauma are found, speaks volumes with regard to repeated behaviors, behaviors that can be identified as cultural patterning. Studying the cultural patterning behavior then allows discussion of the potential meaning of violence and the role it may have played in Anasazi lifeways.

If this is the case, then why has the study of prehistoric violence become the focus of study since the 1990s? One reason is Lawrence Keeley’s (1996) War Before Civilization. This book opened the door in the American Southwest for researchers to discuss violence. Whether Keeley was a cause, a symptom, or simply the catalyst for what was happening anyway is unknown. His work stands as the benchmark from which studies of prehistoric violence dramatically increased and have started to be accepted. It is also likely that because the economic and political situation of the 1990s was stable in the United States, researchers were more open to such thinking. Another reason for the increase in reported cases of violence, and works entirely dedicated to the subject, is a pressing feeling among archaeologists that the ability to study prehistoric Native American violence is coming to an end. As discussed earlier, this is largely because legislation has returned many of the actual human remains to claimant tribes. The regulation seeks to build cooperation between archaeologists, museums, and Native Americans. This law was written with the best of intentions; however, the resultant loss of human remains for further study is decidedly damaging to studies of prehistoric violence. In conducting research for this dissertation, I was met with the unpleasant fact that some federal agencies are under a moratorium regarding the release of data regarding prehistoric violence (Susan Thomas, personal communication 2003). These strict measures are tied directly to the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act of 1991 (25 U.S.C. § 3001 et seq.). As the ability to talk about violence in Anasazi culture is being slowly taken away, perhaps there has been an outpouring of articles and books before it is too late.

Before moving forward it is important to present my approach to this study. The theoretical orientation of this study does not adhere to a single school of thought, it takes a pragmatic rather than purist approach, using what seemed appropriate and helpful for the variety of data and research problems addressed in the study. The questions asked in this book are of a postprocessual nature, yet the data used is quantifiable and thus, processual. The first step in the methodology of this study was the quantification of skeletal information and a resulting identification of violence among the Anasazi through statistical analysis to determine population differences. This information, then, was applied to a more in-depth study. The questions of where,

Finally, violence for all of its negative connotations is popular in mainstream American culture. One need only look at Hollywood or the television to realize that violence plays an important role today in the formation of culture. The media does this by depicting where the boundaries of acceptable behavior may be drawn, and what the consequences of crossing those boundaries may be. The popular press has used this to its advantage by sensationalizing anything to do with prehistoric violence. Cannibalism is a favorite subject for newspaper and magazine articles. At the last count, there were 2,512 popular articles listed on the Internet alone under the heading of “Anasazi violence.”

42

Chapter 3: History of Research

when, why, and how violence occurred among the Anasazi were then asked by placing the data back into the archaeological context in which they were found. Middle-range theory was used to address the research questions and form conclusions. As such, the study is the combination of two different theoretical perspectives. This combination was necessary because the data are osteological, and therefore processual. The questions that were addressed, however, are postprocessual.

etc.) to address a wide range of behavioral questions including violence (Larsen 1997, 2002). Important aspects of how the environment affects the human skeleton are a large part bioarchaeology. For example, the type of food that was produced and eaten has broad implications regarding general health, settlement pattern, and social structure. In the case of this study, evidence of violence on skeletal remains may be used to more fully illuminate how Anasazi society functioned.

The osteological data gathered for this study were analyzed through the methods of bioarchaeology, an outgrowth of osteology (Larsen 2002). The main focus of osteology has been racial typology, classification, and explaining morphological differences between earlier and later populations in the archaeological record (Larsen 2002:119–120). The inclusion of studies from an environmentally adaptive approach gave rise to bioarchaeology.

In summary, it was not enough to quantify the evidence and make assumptions that identical patterns of violent activity would result in consistent change in the skeletal remains. Rather, a database was used as the starting point from which the larger questions regarding social interaction between perpetrators and victims could be analyzed and from which conclusions about cause and motive could be drawn. The study moves from the archaeologically visible (osteological evidence of violence-induced trauma, and skeletal context) to the archaeologically invisible (cause and motive).

Bioarchaeology, as introduced earlier in this chapter, uses basic osteological data (bone metrics, DNA, age and sex,

43

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

44

Chapter 4: Methods

Chapter 4

because there was not enough information. Some variables were retained but could not be studied statistically because even though there were enough data to suggest trends, there was not enough data to make the variable viable for statistical analysis.

Methods The interpretation of human remains has generally been a peripheral issue to many archaeologists working in the region and given only cursory mention in most site reports, with little attempt made to integrate the various strands of evidence into an understanding of the complete occurrence and role of violence in Anasazi culture. —Peter Bullock, 1998

Database 2 (DB2) was designed to take the salient variables identified in DB1 and generalize them even further by changing the semantics of the variable heading. For instance, instead of a set of variable headings regarding specific age of the individual (0–10, 10–20, 20–30 and so on), the DB2 variable headings were changed to “child,” “adolescent,” and “adult.” The justification for this type of change lies in the nature of the archaeological literature because in many cases the authors did not or could not make absolute identifications in categories such as age. By making certain variable headings more general, many more cases of trauma and non-trauma could be added to the database. DB2 had a total of 18 variables. Of these 18 variables, 1 was an identifier (site number) and 7 variables were identified as retaining enough data for valid statistical analysis. These seven variables are age, presence/absence of grave goods, grave type, grave location, body position, sex, and site occupation range. They form the core of analysis and conclusions in this study.

In order to formulate the method of study for this book, the basic question was asked “how can violence be detected in the archaeological record?” In the instance of this study, the answer was to identify the variables associated with violence and violent death among the Anasazi. These variables were drawn from a variety of sources including the ethnographic literature of the Pueblo Indians, worldwide anthropological data, and the archaeological record. Each variable is part of a larger context for each case included in this study. To organize these variables, a database was developed. The two database constructions were introduced in the first chapter and are here described in detail.

The study populations were discussed briefly in the Introduction chapter but need further definition here before discussion of the methods used in this study proceed. The two populations are separated by the headings “trauma disarticulated” and “non-trauma articulated.” These categories are for ease of comparison and cannot be seen as exclusive groups. In reality, this is a single study population of Anasazi and with any population there is a gradation of one subgroup into another. For instance, there are individuals with healed trauma, including some with projectile points embedded in bone, who did not die violently. There are bodies that were disarticulated naturally through postburial erosion or rodent disturbance. These individuals fall into a gray area between trauma and non-trauma. Furthermore, the headings themselves are a bit misleading. Trauma disarticulated, or TD, includes individuals from the subgroups of intentionally inflicted trauma and purposeful disarticulation. Non-trauma articulated, or NTA, can include individuals with evidence of healed trauma and individuals naturally disarticulated.

It is important to point out that this study is based on existing literature and firsthand experience of the author. It is based on a 10-year search of existing data for references to violence in the archaeological record of the Anasazi culture area. Data collection ceased in 2005 but a review of literature continued. Very little additional data have surfaced since 2005, with nothing significant enough to affect the overall findings of this study. As much information as possible was extracted from each report. At times this information was minimal, especially with reports from the early twentieth century. In other cases, a full suite of data could be extracted. The two databases can be seen as an inverted pyramid. The first database (DB1) is far reaching in the number of variables it contains (156 total variables) and was exploratory in nature. This database was designed to capture as much information regarding Anasazi violence as possible including skeletal, type of grave, location of the grave within the site, if the site had identifiable defensive features, and where the site was located geographically. Under these major variable headings were subvariables such as the age of the individual at death, if grave goods were present, if the grave was a simple feature of a structure, whether the grave was in the central portion of the site or elsewhere, and if defenses had been breached. Additionally, DB1 also addressed the non-trauma, control population for comparative purposes. This population was entered into the same variable categories as the trauma population. In the end, DB1 served to identify the variables for which data were available within the current archaeological literature. Many of the variables had to be dropped from further study

Although there are often difficulties in identifying antemortem, perimortem, and postmortem changes in the archaeological record (Larsen 1997:109–110; Mays 1998:13), careful analysis of the bone and the context from which the bone was removed can lessen the confusion between the three changes (Larsen 1997:109). The application of rigorous methods in the taphonomic and forensic fields of study can often separate bone that was damaged by violent activity perimortem from that damaged by archaeologists during excavation, for instance. Nonetheless, even with careful review of the data there may be unintended error introduced into a database like that created

45

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

for this study. For instance, it is impossible to identify individuals or groups of individuals who died violently with no trace of damage to the skeleton (Larsen 1997:109), especially if the burial context for these individuals was the same as those who died nonviolently (NTA). Additionally, when relying upon the work of others, most notably early archaeologists, there is always the danger that the skeletal analysis was incorrect. Fortunately, many of the early reports presented here have undergone recent reanalysis that has confirmed the original identification of violent trauma (Turner and Turner 1999). The data here are considered to be correct despite these potential errors because of the careful review of the reports, osteological data, and reanalysis of primary material by other archaeologists.

Association of the skeleton with other skeletons (i.e., numbers of skeletons associated together) was noted when present as a potentially important pattern marker or for the potential identification of patterns that are different from those that might be seen associated with single skeletons. Grave Type In the contextual scheme of this study, grave type is the next most important aspect in tying violence to cultural behavior. In many reports, the grave location is discussed with such descriptions as “the grave was a shallow pit,” or “the body was on the pithouse floor.” Since context is a key element to the current study, this category was tied to the skeletal category as a means of creating a cross-reference capability between skeletal information and grave type. It was hoped that this would aid in identifying potential patterns between trauma type, age, sex, and time period to specific grave context. Data entered into this variable set included the site number, if the grave was a prepared or unprepared pit, whether it was shallow or deep, if the pit was left open or infilled, or if burial took place within a structure. This last field recorded the structure type (pithouse, kiva, surface room, or other). The next set of fields involved the location of the burial within the structure, assuming it was not in a pit. Thus, data for fill (postabandonment), roof, floor, and the location on the floor where the burial was encountered were documented. As a means of further investigating the association of burials to structures, floor features were also documented and whether the features were open (in use) or closed at the time of the burial event, and the structure style was noted (Eastern or Western Anasazi). Additionally, data regarding whether or not the structure was burned or if the roof was purposely collapsed at the time of the event was documented. In the case of the latter, purposeful collapse is identified when there is no abandonment fill between the structure floor and the overlying roof fall. Furthermore, in certain cases, the main support beams were clearly removed from the structure, causing roof collapse. Next, whether the structure was abandoned or in use at the time of burial, or if the structure was abandoned after the burial event was entered. Postabandonment data included disturbance types such as rodent and erosion.

Database 1: General Variable Studies Database 1 (DB1) excluded no potential variable associated with violence. This shotgun approach to the building of an initial database was important because it served to create a list of traits that may be associated with Anasazi violence. The database was constructed in such a way that cases of purposely inflicted trauma were separated from cases of intentional perimortem disarticulation because that is how they were documented previously. Later in the second database, the two were combined to represent a complete trauma population. When DB1 was reviewed, the weak variables (those that were ill-defined or that had too little data) were quite clear and were used as a guide in deciding what to discard when creating the second, exclusive database. That is, the weak variables were excluded from DB2. DB1 included 156 separate variables and 516 individual cases. These variables were grouped under broader headings and are discussed below. As mentioned above, the database also included the non-trauma control population. This population was not proportionate to the trauma population but was meant to be a sizeable sample for comparative purposes. The non-trauma population data were collected from the same sites as the trauma population and in cases where no non-trauma burials were encountered, burial data from nearby sites of the same time period were used as supplements. Skeletal

Finally, the location of the grave within the site was documented. Data included the location in the central or peripheral portion of the site, or if the grave was outside the boundaries of the site, as defined by the location of structures and ancillary features marking the boundaries of the site. For the purpose of this study, the center of a site is considered to be the pit structure and features immediately surrounding it. In all cases considered, the site boundary was well defined and was indicated by the lack of features and artifacts.

The physical anthropological reports within the archaeological literature are at the center of the current study. For the database, basic skeletal data were recorded including the date range for the skeleton (period of time that individual lived and died), sex, age at death, and the presence of pathologies such as disease that affected the bone. Other data include the position of the body, and where trauma was located on the body. Additionally, the variable set included postmortem effects on the body such as rodent gnawing, erosion, and disarticulation, either by natural or human means. Missing elements were also documented.

46

Chapter 4: Methods Artifacts

Combinations of Data Fields

An integral part of the current study included the artifacts that were associated with the burials retaining evidence of violence. In many instances no artifacts were associated, and in other instances, artifacts were strictly de facto, meaning these were in place prior to the burial of the individual, having no connection to the burial event. In rare cases, grave goods were present, or artifacts that may have been associated with the death of the individual(s) were encountered, such as projectile points in bone or within the body cavity. Perishable items were included when noted by the author, but it is likely that at least in some cases perishable items, such as basketry and clothing, were not preserved in the archaeological record. This may introduce some error into the database, but it seems likely that such error is minimal. Artifacts associated with postoccupational fill or later occupations of the same site were not included in the study because these could not be directly tied to the burials. Fields related to this variable set include site number, artifact type (following standard identifications such as projectile point, awl, ceramic, etc.), whether the artifacts were directly associated with the burial, incidental, or de facto, and whether there was any indication of ritual placement of the items in the grave. This variable set included 30 fields.

Once the data for the above categories were entered, it was possible to query the database both within variables and across variables. Although the raw data generated in DB1 was studied, only the variables with the greatest number of individual cases entered were considered for Database 2 (DB2). Many of the DB1 variables were nearly empty in terms of data entry, and only a few retained enough information to make them valid for statistical analysis.

Site Basic and Site Specific

Database 2: Specific Variable Studies

Building DB1 was an important first step in data gathering, but it was apparent upon completion that the database was simply too rigorous for the data available on the subject, with many variables having too little data to be useful. This was due to uneven reporting over the broad time scale in which the various sites were excavated. As such, the more recent site data filled the entire suite of 156 variables but sites excavated in the early portion of the twentieth century did not. Some sites important to the study had to be left out of DB1 entirely because the data could not be input at all due to the uneven nature and differing styles of reporting. It is important to note that the weaker variables were not dropped or abandoned, but were used as valuable supporting data in the analytical findings of DB2 and in data interpretation.

Following artifacts, information regarding the site was gathered. At the basic level, site number, location, and site name were entered. A total of 18 fields was recorded for these two variables. These data allowed for the placement of the sites geographically within the Arcview mapping program and gave basic reference information.

The initial database made it clear that a second database would be necessary if all salient data were to be included in the study. The study context again included skeletal data for nontraumatized individuals for comparative data. The non-trauma population was the same population used in DB1.

At the site-specific level, variables included defense type if present, any evidence of defensive breach, and whether the site had been burned and to what extent. Other variables included whether structures were purposely collapsed at the time of the burial event, if other forms of damage were evident, if the site was abandoned after the event, and if the site was reoccupied and when. The site-specific category allowed comparison of sites temporally and spatially and allowed for comparisons with trauma types and burial treatment.

Thus, DB2 was devised, taking the variables with the greatest number of case entries from the initial database in combination with broader variable titles. As discussed earlier, rather than using several categories to analyze data like actual age groups (0–10, 10–20, 20–30, 30–40, 40–50+) as in DB1, DB2 was used to identify general categories such as child, adolescent, and adult by combining age groups. In this way, the initial database was cut from 156 down to 7 variables. These included the site number as the prime identifier, site date (codified so that A.D. 0–500 = 1, A.D. 500–700 = 2 and so on), individual sex (0 = unknown, 1 = male, 2 = female), age, as broken into child, adolescent, adult, if grave goods were present or not, skeletal position, grave type, and grave location within the site. For the study of spatial and temporal distributions, site number (coded by modern state locations) and period of occupation were encoded. These final variables were also subjected to Two-Step Cluster Analysis.

Environment and Population The category of environment and population was originally designed to capture specific information regarding the environment at the time of occupation, estimated site population, the surrounding environment, and finally the surrounding population. Unfortunately, the only meaningful data gathered were for the estimate of each site population. All other factors were either poorly documented, or were found to conflict with environmental and regional population assessments made by other scholars.

DB2 included 803 reported cases of trauma death and 1,000 cases of non-trauma death skeletons from 191 individual sites across the Anasazi culture area. The actual

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

site count was 223, with 34 sites retaining data for both study groups.

ematical relevance of each variable in the formation of the population clusters is presented in chi-square analysis.

Introduction to Statistical Testing

Chi-Square for Goodness of Fit

The overall aim of DB2 was to compare attributes by statistical analysis. As has been discussed, the variables that had the greatest number of individual entries were chosen for further analysis. Not only did these variables retain the greatest number of data entries, all seven were amenable to statistical analyses.

In chi-square, the interest is in the frequency with which individuals fall in a particular category or combination of categories. The chi-square for Goodness of Fit is a nonparametric test used to determine how cases that fall into various categories of a single variable measure against a hypothesized value, known as the “critical value” (Pallant 2005).

Raw percentages were analyzed for NTA, TD populations and the combined total population. Histograms were also produced. The next step in the process was to combine the NTA and TD populations (n = 1,803) and begin statistical testing. This allowed for testing of the patterns that were observed in the raw data analysis and quantified the results.

Summary of Tests The statistical tests used were chosen because the data in this study are nominal rather than interval (Drennan 1996; Fletcher and Lock 1991). Nominal data are described by a value that assigns them to a category, but does not provide for a ranking or ordering of the values. By contrast, interval data are divided into ranges and the distance between the intervals is meaningful (measurable). More complex parametric and nonparametric tests could have been applied if the data in this study were interval in nature, but such tests could not be used because the data were nominal and unevenly collected over a 100-year period of archaeological excavation and reporting.

Two basic questions were tested. First, it was clearly necessary to ask if the combined NTA and TD populations were indeed different in a statistically significant way. To that end, several exploratory statistical tests were performed, including Principal Component Analysis, the Ward Method of Hierarchical Cluster Analysis, K-Means Cluster Analysis, and Two-Step Cluster Analysis. Again, it should be emphasized that these techniques were used only as exploratory tools to identify variables that could be effectively used to compare populations. All tests were performed with the Statistics for the Social Sciences (SPSS) program, version 14.0. Of these techniques, only Two-Step Cluster Analysis was valid for the type of data used in this study and as such, it is the only test discussed in greater detail here. The results of the Two-Step tests were then subjected to chi-square analysis for statistical significance.

Cluster analysis is not a single statistical method, nor does it represent a unified model as would be found in discriminant or factor analysis, or in regression testing. In many of the clustering tests no assumptions need be made about the underlying data and groups of related variables can be formed. How these groups are formed is dependent upon the researcher and the size of the database (Kathy Hensler, personal communication 2006). It is important to note that because cluster analysis does not rely on hypothesis testing, it is far more flexible for the type of data collected for this study. It may be seen as the first step in statistical analysis of DB2. The second step in statistical analysis of DB2 was to identify which variables drove the difference(s) in the study population and how significant those differences were. This was accomplished through chi-square testing.

Two-Step Cluster Analysis Cluster analysis is a way to mathematically group similar objects into categories. It is an exploratory tool aimed at sorting different objects into groups in such a way that the degree of similarity between them is maximal within the group. Cluster analysis can be used to discover structures in data without providing explanation or interpretation.

Final Cluster Analysis

Two-Step Cluster Analysis is used with data sets containing over 1,000 cases and is designed to quickly form clusters by passing through the data only once. The SPSS version groups cases into pre-clusters that are treated as single cases. Standard hierarchical clustering is then applied to the pre-clusters (step two of the two-step process). TwoStep clustering is used when one or more of the variables are categorical and not interval or dichotomous. In this study, the objects of interest are human remains. The SPSS program clustered these bodies based on similarities identified through the variables discussed earlier. The math-

Two-Step Cluster Analysis was run with defaults using log likelihood (statistical test in which the ratio of maximum likelihood of association is calculated) as the distance measure with no outlier handling, meaning no outliers were allowed within the dataset. As a means of making the test more rigorous, a maximum of 15 clusters was allowed. This means that variables had to be closely related to fall into a cluster. The Schwarz Bayesian Criterion was the basis for cluster formation. The Schwarz Bayesian Criterion (BIC) identifies clusters at the point where the BIC becomes small and the change in BIC between the adjacent number of clusters is small.

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Chapter 4: Methods Measures of Significance: Individual Variables

Another problem encountered was in multiple osteological studies of the same skeletal population from the same site(s). Some researchers failed to identify evidence for violence or simply did not look for it, (Sandy Karhu, personal communication 2002), while other researchers found this evidence or were specifically looking for it. The solution was to include only the most recent or most rigorous study in the database.

The SPSS program calculates a chi-square value that compares the observed distribution of values of a variable within a cluster to the overall distribution of values. Each variable was then evaluated regarding its significance in driving the clusters. Evaluation is based upon the distance the variable is from the expected critical value at the 99 percentile of confidence. The further away from the critical value the variable is, the more statistically significant it is, and the greater the significance, the more likely it is that the variable played a part in driving the cluster formation.

Finally, this study was limited in that it did not include sites without skeletons, but that could have been subject to violence (i.e., through warfare). An example of this would be any of the numerous sites dating to the Pueblo I period (A.D. 700–900) that were catastrophically burned at the end of occupation, but had no skeletal evidence of violence. This limitation was created through the conscious decision to only include sites with skeletal evidence for violence as a matter of control, thus focusing the study on trauma-related death and patterning, rather than the broader issue of Anasazi violence in general. Part of this decision was based on the limited amount of data that could be addressed in a study such as this, given the time limits on full-time research.

Evaluation of Data Inferential data derived from DB1, along with the results of the statistical testing and spatio-temporal analysis, serve as the basis for the interpretations of the data and are used to address the overall research question regarding patterns in Anasazi violence. The inferential data are used to suggest trends that may be studied in greater detail in the future. DB1 information is also used to supplement statistical analysis, just as the statistical results are used to support some of the DB1 inferences and the spatial distributions of the TD group.

These problems led to less robust data in some of the categories or variables for more rigorous statistical analysis. Many of the variables could not be tested because of data requirement shortfalls. As a result, many categories in the database were dropped from further in-depth consideration and only those that were the most robust and salient were subjected to more in-depth analysis, as discussed above. Categories that were excluded from DB2 included trauma location (too few entries), evidence of disease (too few entries/conflicting data), gnawing and erosion (too few entries), defense type (no clearly defined data), evidence of defensive breach, structural collapse/burning data, site abandonment after the event, and if the site was reoccupied and when (conflicting data). Other exclusions were environment and population for site locations and their immediate surroundings, as discussed above. Again, these changed the focus of the study toward patterns in traumarelated death among the Anasazi. Each of the categories is included here as inferential data, and each deserves additional research in the future. The problems discussed in this section did not undermine the research that was done for this study but are discussed as a means of identifying avenues for future study and as sign posts that may guide future research into the topic.

Limitations of Approach and Data Problems There are several limitations in the current approach that may be illuminated. This study drew data from the literature, which spans a period of over 100 years. In that time, many changes in archaeological technique and reporting have been made, which created problems with data collection. The problems may be summed up as differential data collection methods. Differences in descriptive detail were most difficult to rectify, and when a field could not be filled in because the information was too vague or simply nonexistent in the literature, a zero value was used in the database to indicate no data. Statistical analysis was also limited by the quality of the data. In order to codify all data encountered in the literature, the database was built for nominal data, which is categorical in nature (count data). Due to this fact, more complex parametric statistical tests could not be run. Two-Step Cluster and chi-square analyses are, however, appropriate for the data in this study because both are well suited to nominal data.

Spatial and Temporal Analysis

A somewhat unanticipated problem with the most recent, and mainly unpublished, data was the issue of the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA). Having been denied access to some data was not heavily damaging to the study, but important information that could have been used to more strongly support arguments could not be included, and may be lost for all time.

Spatial and temporal testing was achieved by using the database to plot site locations on an aerial map of the Anasazi culture area by importing the files into the Arcview program. Individual location data, recorded in the Universal Transverse Mercator system, or UTM, were read by the program and plotted according to their north and east coordinates. Once in the Arcview program, the data were also manipulated to plot the TD population not only

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism spatially but temporally according to the age assigned to the TD event. The NTA population was not included in the temporal plots because it is a representative sample. They have no real meaning other than forming a baseline for comparison in the temporal and spatial fields of analysis. Indeed, when the NTA sites were plotted temporally with the TD group, it was obvious that when there was a lot of TD in one time period, similar numbers of NTA from

the same period were entered into the database to keep the samples comparable. In reality, if one were to plot all of the NTA sites in the Anasazi culture area (if such a thing were possible), it would make a big black mark on the page. The TD population is much more finite, and observable changes in the spatial distribution of this group through time are possible.

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Chapter 5: Results

Chapter 5

DB1 was constructed of three parts: non-trauma articulated, trauma articulated, and trauma disarticulated. This was done as a mirror of the extant literature from which the data were derived. This is different from the construction of DB2, which merged all trauma cases into a single population. As such, discussion of DB1 will follow the initial population separations with comparative information between the groups discussed at the end of the section.

Results The pacification of the past now epidemic in anthropology is just the latest turn in the long struggle between myths of progress and the golden age... —Lawrence H. Keeley, 1986

Non-Trauma Articulated (NTA) This chapter represents the results of analysis derived from DB1 and DB2 for the current project. The results from DB1 are limited and conclusions tentative, but they are summarized here in terms of casual observation of trends in the data that deserve further study in the future. DB2 is discussed in detail because the results of analysis are statistically valid.

The NTA group in DB1 consisted of 215 entries. Data regarding age, sex, burial position, burial type, burial location, and presence/absence of burial goods were recorded. Additionally, information regarding abandonment as related to the bodies was documented.

Prior to moving onto the database results, it is useful to briefly review the terminology used in the study.

As indicated in Figure 22, there is a clear bias in the study population toward the 0–10-year group (n = 78, 36.62 percent). Note that sex determinations are not possible for children under age 10 and so these are all listed as “unknown.” Despite the high infant/child mortality rate, which is not uncommon in prehistoric cultures worldwide, the population follows a typical bell curve, with population decline past age 40. Among the Anasazi, the 30–40year age group can be considered to represent middle to advanced age (Martin 1994:107; Kathy Mowrer, personal communication 2004). If an individual survived the 0–10year age group, he/she was likely to survive into early adulthood.

NTA Age and Sex

Table 10 is designed as a quick reference guide to the terms used throughout this book. DB1: Results of Analysis As has been discussed, DB1 was extremely rigorous and narrow regarding data entry. This approach yielded only 301 cases of trauma and 215 cases of non-trauma (n = 516). Not only were there few bodies to actually compare, but several of the variables could not be used because there were too little data available in the literature. These limiting factors made statistical testing of DB1 impossible and as such, the results are merely observations of potential trends that may be inferred from the data. Having said this, it should be pointed out that the statistically tested data in DB2 reflect very strongly the inferential information in DB1, suggesting that although the population is small, the observations may be valid nonetheless.

Although the 0–10-year age group cannot be accurately sexed, this information can be generated for the remaining age categories. In the 10–15-year age group, two are male, one is female, and nine are of unknown sex. The 15–20year category retained six males, and seven females, with no unknown sex present. These numbers may be too small for meaningful conclusions to be drawn, but it would appear that nearly as many males as females were dying of

Table 10. Terminology Reference Guide Term

Description

DB1

Database 1. First database containing 156 individual variables

DB2

Database 2. Refined database of seven key variables for statistical testing

NFG

No formal grave. This notation appears when no information regarding a formal grave pit was noted in the literature

NTA

Non-trauma articulated population. Represents data for the control group used in this study

TD

Trauma disarticulated. The study population of individuals with evidence of trauma and/or purposeful perimortem disarticulation

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 22. DB1 NTA age and sex distribution.

tween the ages of 30 and 40, 14 males and 11 females in the 40–50-year age group, and 8 males and 3 females past the age of 50 years in the study population. Of interest is the drop in the number of females in the 30–40-year age group, suggesting that if women lived through their fertile years they tended to reach their 40s and 50s

.

non-trauma causes in the study population. This changes in the 20–30-year group, where 14 males are present and 20 females are accounted for. Presumably this can be attributed to childbearing, although disease should not be ruled out. Males are dominant in the final three life groupings (ages 30 to 50+), most likely because fewer females lived past age 30. There were 32 males and 8 females be-

Figure 23. Non-trauma flexed burial, site 5MT3. (Photo by the author)

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 24. DB1 NTA body position. NTA Body Position and Grave Type

within middens, including both formal grave pits and no grave pit, and more males are present than females in the pit structure burials and abandoned pits.

Flexed position (legs folded up to chest, arms bent around knees, body lying on the right, left, front, or on back) was the most common body position in the DB1 NTA population, followed by extended body positions (Figure 23 and Figure 24). Bundle burials, though not common, were present throughout. In Figure 25 it should be noted that the term burial pit may be seen as almost synonymous with midden because most formal burial pits were also in midden areas. Where midden is listed, also note that the initials behind it (NFG) mean the excavator noted no formal grave. The separation of bodies with formal grave pits from burials with no grave pit was used to identify formal burial pits from natural depressions in the midden that became burial loci.

Figure 27 indicates the breakdown of grave type and individual ages. It would appear that, with few exceptions, there was no age discrimination regarding grave type. Generally, however, there is an even distribution of age groups by grave type. As shown in Figure 28, there is an overwhelming tendency for burials to be located in the southern periphery of a site. This coincides directly with typical midden locations at Anasazi sites. The central portion of the site and the western periphery were used equally, followed by the central-west portion of sites. All other locations are negligible. Again, there is an obvious pattern regarding the NTA burials, not only in grave type, but where that grave type (i.e., midden) is located within sites across the Anasazi region.

In the NTA study population, the midden was the most often used, and often contained formal grave pits. Surface rooms were infrequently used as tombs, as were pit structures. Cists, pits, and crevices were also present as tombs throughout. Pits include large thermal features such as roasting pits, and cists refer exclusively to large bellshaped pits. All of these features were used secondarily as burial loci. Crevice burial was exclusive to the early Basketmaker II sites in the study. Turning to Figure 26, the differences in grave type by individual sex are presented. The number of unknowns in the population can draw these differences into question, but it would appear that females slightly outweigh males in crevice burials and surface rooms. There is a slight preponderance of males

The final two variables of study were artifacts associated with NTA burials and data regarding abandonment of NTA sites. Figure 29 outlines the artifacts associated with the NTA burial population. Here it may be seen that artifacts such as pottery vessels, personal ornaments, and floral materials such as burial mats and food offerings dominate the assemblages. Ceramic sherds are also fairly common. There is a relative paucity of all other artifact classes, including most stone and bone tool types. It may be that these items were recycled among the living, or that they were not considered appropriate grave items. In Figure 30,

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 25. DB1 NTA grave type.

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 26. DB1 NTA grave type by sex.

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 27. DB1 NTA age by grave type.

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 28. DB1 NTA grave location by site.

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 29. DB1 NTA grave goods. Summary of NTA Study Population

the data indicate that sites in general were not abandoned at the time of a non-trauma-related interment. In this table “Ab Aft” (abandoned after) should be read as “no abandonment,” meaning that the site was not abandoned in relation to the burial. Also in this table, “Ab Bef” indicates that the burial was in a feature or structure that was abandoned before use as a grave, but that the remainder of the site continued to be occupied.

The key elements of the NTA population as presented for DB1 are that the mortality rate was high among infants and children, relatively low for young adults, and more females died than males during early adulthood. This is similar to prehistoric populations elsewhere (Keeley 1996) and supports the supposition that the NTA group in this study represents a plausible cross section of the entire Anasazi population. The dead tend to have been purposely placed in a flexed position, often in formal pits. The graves also appear to have been largely located in midden areas in the southern periphery of the sites. Grave goods are nearly always present in the NTA population graves (66.51 percent with grave goods, 33.49 percent with no grave goods). When the NTA group was encountered in structures or features, these appear to have been abandoned prior to use as burial chambers or graves. When recovered from structures, the roofs appear to have either been purposely collapsed or burned, depending on the time period. Again, these key elements should be seen as trends that may be present in the larger Anasazi population in general, as the total number of individuals in the various areas studied here was low.

Figure 31 indicates burning versus purposeful collapse ofpithouse roofs when these structures were used as NTA burial chambers. The preference for burned structures is strong in the early Anasazi periods between A.D. 600 and A.D. 900, slowly giving way to purposeful collapse. As will be seen later in this document, this is a trend that appears to run throughout the NTA and TD populations. Indeed, with the exception of the overlap between A.D. 900 and A.D. 1100, these two types of roof treatment appear to be mutually exclusive. It may be that there was some proscription against burning structures in the periods where collapsing the roof was favored.

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 30. NTA site abandonment in association with burials.

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 31. DB1 NTA structural roof burn/collapse following interment. all conclusions drawn from the data are inferential and exploratory only. A total of 301 individuals was recorded at this level of inquiry, 78 of whom retained skeletal evidence of trauma and 223 that had been disarticulated

DB1 Trauma and Disarticulation Population (TD) Prior to discussing the DB1 TD population, it is important to reiterate that the population in DB1 is small and

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 32. DB1 trauma age range.

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 33. DB1 trauma by sex and age. immediately after death and that are suspected of dying violently.

unknown), it seems that there are potential patterns within this group that are comparable to the NTA and disarticulated populations. Figure 32 depicts the age ranges within this group. If those that are identified as “child” or “adult” are excluded, the population forms a bell-shaped curve that at first glance is similar to the NTA population. However, age range among the traumatically killed is different from

The trauma population was not randomly chosen. Every burial where violence was reported in the literature was included if it met the strict criteria of the variables for inclusion in DB1. Although small (41 males, 21 females, 16

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 34. DB1 trauma population temporal distribution. either the NTA population or the disarticulation population, and in some interesting ways. First, in the 0–10-year age group only 8 cases are present, compared with 77 in the NTA population. It is also lower than in the disarticulation cases where 48 bodies were present in this age group (see Figure 47). In the 10–20-year age range, there are 9 cases of trauma death, and 39 in the disarticulation population. There are 13 cases of trauma death in the 20–30-year group and 39 in the diarticulation group. An inversion in numbers occurs in the 30–40-year age groups. Here there are 20 trauma deaths and only 7 in the disarticulation age group. This is followed by slightly more disarticulation (n = 15) than trauma cases (n = 7) in the 40–50-year age groups, but more traumatically killed (n = 7) than disarticulated (n = 1) in the 50+ age group.

traumatically killed are interesting (Figure 33). It must be remembered that the 30–40-year age group would have been middle to advanced age. Females in this group were beyond childbearing age. It is possible that the males and females were beyond the age in which they could participate in forays away from the village (such as tending fields, hunting, etc.) and would have been the “home group” taking care of the household, hamlet, or village while the younger groups were away. They may have also cared for the very young. Looking more closely at Figure 33, the distribution of the trauma population may be seen. Although the age group 0–10 is normally not identifiable by sex, the individuals represented here were mummified remains (actually desiccated) and sex could be identified. In the 10–15-year group only a single female individual is present. In the 15–20-year age group only three individuals are present, all males. The fact that only four individuals represent these two age groups is somewhat startling. On one hand, it does follow the patterns observed among other prehistoric groups (Carman 1997; Carman and Harding 1999; Keeley 1996; LeBlanc 1999; Osgood et al. 2000; Turner and Turner 1999) where females are underrepresented. What is unexpected is the underrepresentation of males, especially in the 15–20-year age group, a time when young men would likely have been most involved in risky behavior (Clastres 1994; Halbmayer 2001; Schröder 2001). The lack of females of childbearing age is documented in the wider literature (Clastres 1994; Halbmayer 2001; Schröder 2001), but the lack of males in the Anasazi population in these age groups demands more careful scrutiny. The vari-

Looking within the trauma population, it is most striking that the majority of trauma deaths among the Anasazi fall within the 30–40-year age group. This is unlike the trauma data for other prehistoric populations (Ames 2001; Carman and Harding 1999; Halbmayer 2001; Holliman 2001; Keeley 1994; LeBlanc 1999; Maschner and ReedyMaschner 1998; Zimmerman 1997) in which more trauma death occurs in the 15–20- and 20–30-year groups. These people should have been involved in activities that could lead to traumatic death, such as raiding, intragroup conflict and so forth (see, for example, Clastres 1994; Halbmayer 2001; Schröder 2001). The Anasazi, by comparison, were older when they met with traumatic death. These data, taken in conjunction with the sex distribution of the

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 35. DB1 distribution of sex by time. ous ethnographies (see, for example, Dutton 1963; Lange 1959; Parsons 1974) indicate that boys were generally inducted into Pueblo societies by age 9 or 10. This suggests that they were considered old enough to partake in behaviors that could lead to traumatic death by age 15 or 20 (including hunting). This is explained in part by the discussion above, in that these individuals were probably dying, perhaps in even larger numbers, but they are not well represented in the archaeological record. The 20–30 age group is also underrepresented, with only three females and one male present. The 30–40 age group is dominated by 11 females and is the largest of the traumatic cases in this study. In the 40–50-year age group, more males are present than females and the 50+ individuals are equally represented by males and females. No definite conclusions can be drawn regarding the male/female presence by age because of the small numbers in DB1. However, it may be that there are shifts between males and females in terms of traumatic death based on age alone. This trend needs further study.

observations (Figure 34). There certainly seems to be a high number of traumatic deaths in the Basketmaker II period. Only three traumatic deaths occur in this study in the Basketmaker III period. There are, however, disarticulation cases at this time. The data from these cases, though few, are reflected with some minor shifts in the DB2 analysis. Other researchers (LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999) have discussed a general decline in trauma-related violence from about A.D. 1000 to A.D. 1100, followed by a sharp increase in trauma between A.D. 1100 and A.D. 1150. The DB1 analysis supports these findings, as does the DB2 analysis. As will be shown later, the same trend occurs in the disarticulation population at this time. The apparent decrease in trauma death at the end of the occupation is an artifact of the small sample size represented in DB1. In fact, there is a steady increase in trauma death from about A.D. 1150 onward to the abandonment of the region (see DB2 discussion). Figure 35 indicates the distribution of the sexes in the TD population. The sample of bodies that could be identified as to sex by time period is quite small (n = 37), but may point to trends in the distribution of TD bodies by sex through time. This area of study is one that should be pursued in the future, as it may be indicative of changing patterns of violence through time with regard to who became the target of violent activities among the Anasazi.

Having established the traumatic population, it is now possible to turn to the distribution of that population through time. According to LeBlanc (1999:149), who interprets trauma deaths as evidence of warfare, “there is ample evidence for warfare beginning around A.D. 0 on up to around A.D. 900. For the Anasazi, the impression is for more warfare in the late Basketmaker II (A.D. 0–500) period than in the Basketmaker III (A.D. 500–750) period, then another increase in warfare for Pueblo I (A.D. 750–900).” Whether trauma death represents warfare or not in this study, LeBlanc is correct in his

In the Basketmaker II period (A.D. 0–500), it appears that more males died traumatically than females. No individuals

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 36. DB1 trauma population, head trauma location. are present in the A.D. 500–600 period and no females are represented at all in the A.D. 600–700 period (mid-Basketmaker III to Pueblo I). In the A.D. 700–800 period, males dominate. Interestingly, in the period between A.D. 800 and 900 males and females are nearly equal, with one more male dying traumatically than females. If the Pueblo I period is represented as a whole (i.e., A.D. 700–900), we see that males dominate females in traumatic death rate, despite the increase in female trauma death late in the period.

war (see, for example, Keeley 1996; LeBlanc 1999; LeBlanc and Rice 2001). This supposition simply does not hold true for the Pueblo II period, however, if the DB1 information is in any way correct. Nor is it necessarily the case in the late Pueblo I period (A.D. 800–900) where parity between the sexes is almost reached. These data indicate that at certain times both males and females were likely involved in behaviors that could lead to traumatic death. If these deaths are associated with Keeley’s (1996) concept of prehistoric warfare, then recent reassessments of women as combatants must be more carefully studied (Douchette 2001; Holliman 2001) in the future, or the idea of severe mistreatment of a subclass of females within Anasazi society must be seriously assessed (Martin 1997:45–75; Novak 1999). LeBlanc (1999:167) argues that in the Pueblo II period specifically, males dominate females by 50 percent, based on data from only two sites. These data suggest that site-specific records may not match the overall patterns formed by larger trends in the population, as presented here. The final period of Anasazi occupation (A.D. 1200–1300) indicates that the trend changes once again to male-dominated traumatic death.

From A.D. 900 to A.D. 1000 the population is equally split between males and females, representing the second lowest ebb in traumatic death in the Anasazi sequence. Between A.D. 1000 and A.D. 1100, there is an inversion of trauma death dominance with females dominating males. This trend continues between A.D. 1100 and A.D. 1200, with female traumatic death outweighing males. Finally, between A.D. 1200 and 1300, there appears to be a return to male-dominated traumatic death. The findings here are generally what would be expected when compared to other prehistoric populations worldwide (Keeley 1996; Milner et al. 1991; Schröder and Schmidt 2001; Scott 2001; Zimmerman 1997). The lower number of females is often cited as indicating that women were both nonparticipatory in violent activity and one of the spoils of

DB1 Skeletal Trauma Having introduced the trauma population, it is now possible to look at more specific data within the population,

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 37. DB1 male and female head trauma location. beginning with the skeleton, then moving to skeletal position, grave type, grave location, artifacts, and structure/site abandonment as it relates to trauma death. Figure 36 represents the general location of head trauma within the DB1 trauma population (70 of 78 cases). Head trauma is seen worldwide as one of the foremost indicators of violent death (Lange 1997). In this study, the head is separated into four zones: front, rear, right, left. Severe trauma (unhealed, presumably causing death) was recorded. “Head Front” dominates slightly, indicating the majority of head trauma occurred from the forehead to the chin. In this category the majority of damage occurs in the left forehead. “Head Rear” follows (19 cases), then “Head Left,” and finally, “Head Right.” Due to the small sample size no very robust conclusions are possible with regard to this data; however, they do suggest that within the study population there is a relatively low number of wounds to the right side of the head, consistent with frontal assaults by righthanded assailants.

(Figure 38). As noted, in females there is no dominant side, all sides are equally represented. Although the overall population in this figure is small (n = 53), these numbers do seem to suggest patterning to head trauma. The numbers indicate that males faced their attackers most often. Blows to the rear of the head are significant. In drawings and photographs, along with descriptions, the literature indicates that blows to the back of the head occur almost exclusively in the lower portion of the skull, or where the skull and top of the spine meet. This is true regardless of the sex of the individual. Although far from conclusive, these data suggest that when a blow was given to the back of the head, the victim was bent forward, and possibly was below the attacker based on angle of entry. This suggests that the victims may have been kneeling. Trauma to the postcranial skeleton is a far less dependable marker of violent activity; however, in DB1 the majority of bodies with postcranial damage also had cranial damage, suggesting that the two co-occurred. The bodies in this study were separated into two general areas, the trunk (including arms) and the lower body (including everything from the pelvis down). Figure 39 and Figure 40 present these data respectively. Body trauma among the DB1 trauma cases indicates that there was little trauma to the trunk area (26 of 78 cases). Some of the trauma noted would not have necessarily been life threatening, but no sign of healing was noted in these injuries, indicating that the individual died shortly after receiving them. Injuries to the right arm occur in the radius/ulna almost exclusively

In Figure 37 major differences between males and females with regard to head trauma are evident. First, males clearly dominate the head trauma data (41 males, 12 females) and appear to form the pattern of damage location, as female head trauma is equal. This difference alone suggests patterning in that the heads of males were apparently more often the target of severe blows than those of females. Location of wounds between males and females also varies. In males, blows to the front are dominant, followed by an equal preference for the left and rear, and finally the right

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Figure 38. Skull with severe perimortem trauma. (Photo by anonymous)

DB1 Trauma Population Body Position

and are consistent with parry fractures in location and type (LeBlanc 1999).

The DB1 trauma population skeletal position data are too limited for salient discussion and they are not discussed further here. Data regarding body position are discussed under the DB2 analysis.

While limited, the data regarding the lower portion of the body are interesting. The upper portions of the legs (femurs) are most often damaged, followed by the lower leg bones (tibia/fibula). Pelvic damage appears to be minimal. In cases where leg damage is present, it is not uncommon for severe head damage to be present in the same individual. This suggests that the individual may have been struck in the legs to hinder movement, then dispatched by a blow to the head.

DB1 Trauma Population Grave Type Moving outward from the body to the grave among the trauma population, differences between the NTA population and the trauma population become more marked (Figure 41). As is the case with the disarticulation population discussed later, the vast majority of DB1 trauma burials occur in pit structures. It should be noted that for the purposes of the study, pit structure also includes the structure known as a kiva. This is followed distantly by burials in abandoned cists, no grave (i.e., shallow burial in midden

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 39. DB1 trauma population, upper body trauma location.

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 40. DB1 trauma population, lower body trauma location.

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 41. DB1 trauma population grave type and sex distribution. with no formal grave pit), burial in abandoned pits, burial in surface rooms, and finally burial in formal grave pits. These data differ from the DB1 NTA burial population in this study in that few individuals in the NTA population were encountered in pit structures, but rather were in the site middens. This indicates a distinctly different pattern in the trauma population than in the non-trauma population. This is one of the strongest pattern differences between the TD and NTA Anasazi populations that was encountered in this study. If traumatic burial was random, as has been suggested by some researchers (LeBlanc 1999:85; Turner and Turner 1999:52), then traumatic burial locations should occur everywhere across any given site, rather than being grouped in one area of a site, and in one structure type almost exclusively.

clustering of the trauma population in the center of sites is directly tied to the use of the pit structure as tomb. Fiftytwo of 60 graves were centrally located, and the majority of these are in the pit structures.

Figure 42 indicates the location of graves in the trauma population within sites and through time. What is most germane about this table is the clear clustering of graves in the central portion of the site, as opposed to any other location, regardless of time period. This is in direct opposition to the NTA population, where grave location strongly clusters in the southern peripheries of the sites studied. The

DB1 Trauma Population Artifact Association

If the grave types are studied by temporal placement (Figure 43) then trends in burial location may be discussed. In the period between A.D. 0 and A.D. 600, the trauma population was buried exclusively in abandoned cists, after which time cists appear no longer to be used, being replaced increasingly by pit structures from A.D. 600 to A.D. 900. The number of traumatically killed who were placed in no grave at all (i.e., shallow depressions in the middens) was nearly equal to pit structure use in the A.D. 700 to A.D. 800 period, with a general decline thereafter.

Having looked at skeletal information and grave information, it is possible to move to examination of the artifacts associated with the trauma population. Here there appear to be no clear patterns in association. Indeed, there are so few artifacts and so little association that presenting them

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 42. DB1 temporal distribution of trauma population grave type. graphically is not possible. Unlike the NTA population, the majority of artifacts found in association with the DB1 trauma population appear to be de facto refuse or the artifacts associated with the occupation of a structure prior to use as a tomb.

mediately following the burial event (Figure 44). A scant few of the features and structures that were in use prior to the event and continued in their primary use after the burial event. The most obvious case of postburial abandonment can be seen in the Basketmaker II period (A.D. 0–500), where nearly all of the features were abandoned following the burial event, followed by the late Pueblo I period (A.D. 800–900), where most features and structures were abandoned following their use as tombs. In the midPueblo II period (A.D. 1000–1100), over half of the structures and features were abandoned following the burial event and in the Pueblo III period (A.D. 1200–1300) half were abandoned following the event. There are not enough data for the Basketmaker III or early Pueblo II to make any kind of assessment.

It is possible that artifacts were directly associated with the remains; however, these cannot be readily separated from the remainder of the artifact assemblages, especially in pit structure locations. Although there is no clear patterning, it does differ from the NTA population where grave goods are clearly in direct association with individuals. Artifact associations or the lack thereof are also discussed in the DB2 analysis section. The presence or absence of artifacts is one of the strongest variables separating the NTA and TD populations, and is a driving factor in pattern analysis. Simply put, the variable indicates a strict dichotomy between the two populations; the NTA have grave goods associated with them and the trauma population does not.

The abandonment data are not discussed further in DB2 because there was not enough information to include this variable set in the DB2 statistical analysis. But the importance of these data cannot be denied. It is suspected that future study will reveal that feature/structure/site abandonment will be a driving factor in pattern study among the TD and NTA populations.

DB1 Trauma Population Feature, Structure, and Site Abandonment There is strong evidence of patterning in the abandonment of features, structures, and entire sites in association with the DB1 trauma population. The abandonment history of features and structures with regard to traumatic death events is important in identifying overall patterns within Anasazi violence. Based on the archaeological evidence, the majority of features and structures that became burial places for those killed traumatically were abandoned im-

When these data are taken in conjunction with the number of DB1 trauma cases, there is a correlation between periods of increased trauma cases and the number of features and structures abandoned following burial of the traumatically killed. Of substance, the burning of structure roofs immediately after the burial event in the structure appears to have been the preferred method of sealing the

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 43. DB1 trauma population grave type by time period. grave location throughout the Anasazi occupation (Figure 45). There are important changes through time, however. Structural burning appears to have been the only method used between A.D. 600 and A.D. 800. Between A.D. 800 and A.D. 1100, no structural burning occurs in relation to trauma burial; rather, the graves are “sealed” by purposely collapsing the roof. This change from burning to nonburning mirrors general trends in Anasazi structure and site abandonment in relation to both NTA and TD populations studied in this book. Whatever proscription there was against burning structure roofs between A.D. 800 and A.D. 1100 seems to have been disregarded between A.D. 1100 and A.D. 1200, and likely reached a peak at A.D. 1150, as over half of the structures associated with the DB1 trauma population had their roofs burned. Also, in this same time period, there is an increase in the use of structures that were burned prior to their use as tombs (burial in fill above roof fall), purposely collapsed roofs, and one case

in which the roof was left to collapse naturally after the burial event. LeBlanc (1999) argues that structure burning became widespread in the late Anasazi period, yet no cases of structural burning in association with trauma death were noted in DB1 analysis. This does not negate LeBlanc’s assertion; it simply suggests that burning was occurring for reasons other than sealing trauma graves. Instead, roof collapse remained the dominant form of grave closure in the A.D. 1200 to A.D. 1300 period for the small DB1 sample. It should be noted that in the majority of cases in all time periods, where the burial event took place in the pit structure, not only was the structure abandoned after the event, but the entire site was also abandoned. DB1 Disarticulated Population It is important to reiterate that it is assumed the disarticulated human remains in this study represent a group of in-

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 44. DB1 trauma population structure and feature abandonment.

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 45. DB1 trauma population structure roof burning and collapse.

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 46. DB1 disarticulated population sex distribution. dividuals who died traumatically and were subsequently disarticulated.

in the DB1 analysis, and is not different than disarticulation populations outside of the Anasazi area.

DB1 Disarticulated Population Age and Sex

There are more data regarding the age range of the disarticulation population (149 of 223; Figure 47). There is a differential distribution of ages within the population, between individuals in the 0 to 30 age groups and those on the 30 to 50+ groups. Clearly, the largest target groups for disarticulation activities were in the former, representing 126 individuals, as opposed to 23 in the latter. These data are perhaps the most telling of the disarticulation population. Clearly, there was age discrimination. When compared to the DB1 NTA population it is evident that there were more people alive between ages 0 and 30, and fewer thereafter, but the conclusion must remain that if an individual survived past age 30, their chances of disarticulation after death decreased.

The disarticulation population is represented by 223 individuals in DB1. This includes all cases of disarticulation in the archaeological literature as of 2006. Cases of disarticulation are not common in the archaeological record, but when they are encountered there are normally numerous bodies involved. Thus, in the Anasazi there are 43 known site locations with disarticulated bodies present, accounting for all 223 individuals (Cater 1995; Turner and Turner 1999; Kathy Mowrer, personal communication 2006). Due to the extreme nature of the disarticulation, very few data are available regarding the sex of these individuals. Of those who could be separated by sex (n = 50), 26 were males and 24 were females (Figure 46). This indicates that little differentiation between the sexes was made when disarticulation occurred. This distribution does not appear to follow mortality data for trauma death elsewhere (Carman 1997; Carman and Harding 1999; Keeley 1996; LeBlanc 1999; Osgood et al. 2000; Turner and Turner 1999) but does appear similar to disarticulation cases (Frayer 1997:186; Pickering 1999:56; White 1992:5) in terms of the number of individuals present and their sexes. Thus, the disarticulation population is more similar in sex distribution to the trauma population than the NTA population

DB1 Disarticulated Population Temporal Distribution Figure 48 presents the disarticulation population temporally. It must be noted that this figure represents the number of individuals through time. This distinction is important because it could easily mislead the reader into believing that disarticulation was rampant at various times during the Anasazi occupation. Comparing the data in this study to those presented by Turner and Turner (1999), who arguably have undertaken

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 47. DB1 disarticulation population age distribution.

the most extensive research on Anasazi disarticulation to date, it may be seen that some data in this study support their findings, while other data do not. For instance, Turner and Turner (1999:464) report that no disarticulation occurred prior to A.D. 900. The current data indicate a distinct spike (13 individuals in a single event) between A.D. 600 and A.D. 700. This may be the earliest known case (Cater 1995) of disarticulation in the Anasazi region and is important because it does not differ in any way from later disarticulation events (i.e., bone reduction, butchering techniques), suggesting that this was a wellestablished pattern early in the Anasazi occupation. The period between A.D. 700 and A.D. 800 indicates no disarticulation events (compare with trauma events), however, and an increase in the number of individuals disarticulated between A.D. 800 and A.D. 1000. This is followed by a decrease from A.D. 1000 to A.D. 1100 (noted also in the trauma cases), followed by a massive spike in the number of individuals between A.D. 1100 and A.D. 1200 (reaching a peak at about A.D. 1150), and a general decline between A.D. 1200 and A.D. 1300.

As will be discussed in the comparison section, there are similarities between the DB1 disarticulated and trauma populations through time. These similarities begin at about A.D. 700 and continue to the end of the Anasazi occupation. Distinct differences in ebb and flow are present in the data as well and these are generally restricted to the early portion of the Anasazi occupation and can be summarized, as when trauma death peaks, disarticulation events seem to ebb and vice-versa. Both trauma death and disarticulation event reach peaks at about A.D. 1150, following decline in both between A.D. 1000 and A.D. 1100. DB1 Disarticulated Population and Grave Type There appear to be patterns between age and grave location in the disarticulation population, but these must be viewed with caution (Figure 49). Clearly, the majority of disarticulated remains occur in pit structures, with secondary deposit of remains from these structures in surrounding structures and features. For instance, 30–40-year-old individuals only appear in pit structure locations, but there are very few individuals in this age grouping (n = 8). The 0–10- and 20–30-year groups are the most common in pit

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 48. DB1 disarticulation population totals through time. structures, as well as in secondary deposits outside of these structures.

This preference of use occurs throughout the Anasazi occupation (Figure 50) indicating, perhaps, the establishment of traditional grave types for both trauma and disarticulated populations.

Perhaps the most interesting pattern within the grave/age category for the disarticulated is in the 40–50-year age group, where individuals appear not to have been disarticulated in pit structures, but in surface rooms, with portions of their bodies deposited secondarily elsewhere (see Figure 49). Some interesting comparisons can be made between the DB1 disarticulation and trauma populations regarding age and grave. Clearly the preference in both trauma and disarticulation population is the pit structure, followed by surface rooms and abandoned features such as pits. This suggests that the use of the pit structure had equal importance between both populations, in direct opposition to the NTA population. This also argues against Turner and Turner (1999) and LeBlanc’s (1999) suppositions of random burial. The fact that the disarticulation population appears to have mainly been deposited within pit structures, and these structures even today are considered sacred places among the Puebloan people, suggests either reverence or desecration, but does not support random placement of disarticulated remains.

In Figure 51 there is similarity of grave location within sites between the DB1 disarticulation population and the trauma population. Again, this is directly tied to the location of these remains in the pit structures, which are generally central to sites (Figure 52). Grave type of the two populations (trauma and disarticulated) plays an important role in pattern identification of violent activity among the Anasazi. These two populations, when combined, helped drive the clustering and separation of the NTA and TD populations in the DB2 analysis. In the DB1 analysis, grave type is also a factor supporting the validity of combining the two populations in DB2, since the grave types are virtually the same for the trauma and disarticulated populations.

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 49. DB1 disarticulation population grave type and age distribution. DB1 Disarticulated Population Grave Goods and Structural Abandonment

Anasazi proscription against roof burning in the A.D. 900 to A.D. 1000 period, only a single case of a burned roof was noted. The other cases in this period indicate that the roofs were purposely collapsed after the events. Only one of the structures in this period had been abandoned prior to the event (the case with the burned roof), and all others were in use up to the event. The cases between A.D. 1000 and A.D. 1100 indicate a continuation of the “no burn” policy. Structures in this period were abandoned prior to the events and their roofs purposely collapsed immediately following. The A.D. 1100 to A.D. 1200 period data match well with the DB1 trauma population data, in which structural abandonment follows no single pattern: all combinations are present, including one case in which the structure continued to be used after the event. This continues on a smaller scale in the A.D. 1200 to A.D. 1300 period, where structure roofs were burned or collapsed equally. These structures were all abandoned after the disarticulation event.

In the last section, the disarticulation population was placed in the context of grave type and grave location. It was noted that these grave types and locations were virtually the same as the DB1 trauma population. The same may be said about grave goods and the lack thereof. The same random nature of artifact association is present in the disarticulation population as was seen in the trauma population. Once again, it may be important that there is no pattern evident, representing a pattern different than the normal burial population. There is insufficient data regarding de facto refuse, artifacts associated with structures that were in use up to the event, and artifacts that may have been directly associated with the bodies. The pattern of structure abandonment in disarticulation cases is unique in some respects and similar in other respects when compared to both DB1 trauma and NTA population abandonment (Figure 53). Changes through time may be seen beginning with the single event in the A.D. 600 to A.D. 700 period where the structure was in use up to the disarticulation event and the roof was burned immediately after the event. This differs from the events in the A.D. 800 to A.D. 900 period, in which the structures were already abandoned prior to the event, then burned immediately after. Following is what appears to be a pan-

In general, then, structure abandonment follows similar trends as those noted in the trauma burial population, in that roof burning is common early, followed by a general paucity of burning in favor of collapsing the roof to seal the structure, with a return to burning along with roof collapse in the later occupation periods. In the majority of cases, the entire site was abandoned following the disar-

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 50. DB1 disarticulation population grave type temporal distribution. ticulation event, just as was seen in the trauma cases. The most striking difference between the DB1 trauma and disarticulation populations is the use of structures that were abandoned prior to the event.

in the TD and NTA populations. The only exception to this is in the earliest occupation, where few cases were present. Turning now to comparisons between bodies, looking first at traumatic death, it may be seen that there is a presence of TD in the earliest Anasazi occupations. There appears to be a slow increase in individuals dying traumatically that were not disarticulated, reaching a peak in the A.D. 800 to A.D. 900 period. This peak in violence has been noted by other researchers (LeBlanc 1999; Turner and Turner 1999). In the broader spectrum, this period represents the Pueblo I period and was a time of great change among the Anasazi including the first large population aggregations in small environmental niches, the change from pithouse as domestic structure to kiva, and the onset of true villages (Wilshusen 1991). As noted by other researchers (see, especially, LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001;Turner and Turner 1999), there is a general decrease in trauma death, without disarticulation, between A.D. 900 and A.D. 1100, followed by a dramatic increase between A.D. 1100 and A.D. 1150 and a decrease to the end of occupation.

DB1 Combined Population Comparison The final segment of DB1 data analysis seeks to combine, for comparison, certain aspects of the data presented above. First, there is a temporal comparison that can be made between the number of events in both the trauma and disarticulation populations. This comparison is important because if studied by event, traumatic death is more prevalent than disarticulation except in the A.D. 1100 to A.D. 1200 period, when the number of events is equal (Figure 54). Thus, there are more traumatic events, with fewer bodies. Conversely, there are fewer disarticulation events but many more bodies. Both indicate that they were present in low levels nearly throughout the entire Anasazi occupation. For the purpose of this analysis, the temporal sequence is based on 100-year increments, rather than the uneven temporal increments presented by the Pecos Classification system. Tight temporal control regardless of cultural period is important in identifying spatial and temporal changes

In terms of disarticulation populations, it may be seen that between A.D. 0 and A.D. 500, when a downtrend in trauma death was occurring (as seen in Figure 54), there were no disarticulation events. Between A.D. 600 and A.D. 700, there is a spike in disarticulation, just as trauma death

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 51. DB1 disarticulation population grave location by temporal period.

Figure 52. Disarticulated remains on pit structure floor, site 5MT3. (Photo by the author)

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reaches its all-time low. This trend reversed between A.D. 700 and A.D. 900 where no disarticulation events occur but trauma death begins to increase. The disarticulation population begins to rise in the period between A.D. 800 and A.D. 900 and parallels an increase in trauma death. Whereas trauma death peaks around A.D. 900, the disarticulation population continues to rise, peaking around A.D. 1000. Trauma death continues to decline, reaching the second lowest point in the Anasazi occupation (A.D. 1000– 1100). Curiously, there is a dramatic drop in disarticulation from A.D. 1000 to A.D. 1100 also. Other researchers have generally not recognized this drop in disarticulation, possibly because of the widespread use of the Pecos Classification system, which lacks chronological refinement.

There are similarities in patterning between the traumatic and disarticulated populations that justify their combination into a single population for the additional study that follows. Summary of TD Study Population The key elements of the TD population as presented for DB1 are that all age groups are present, though some are better represented than others, and there are increases and decreases in the number of trauma-related deaths through time. The graves also appear largely to have been located in pit structures in the central portion of the sites and grave goods are absent. There appears to be a correlation between trauma death and structural abandonment and trauma death and purposeful roof burning or collapse. There are more disarticulated individuals than those traumatically killed but left articulated, at least in the current study population, but both of these groups follow the same patterns in regard to grave type and location and the presence/absence of artifacts. Again, it is important to remember that the total number of individuals in DB1 was low and these key elements are only supported by further testing below.

The period between A.D. 1100 and A.D. 1200, specifically between A.D. 1100 and A.D. 1150, represents marked increases in both trauma death and disarticulation. Indeed, the increase in disarticulated population at this time is unprecedented in earlier periods. Finally, the period between A.D. 1200 and A.D. 1300 indicates a general decrease in both trauma death and disarticulation. Once again, this can be attributed to the small sample size of DB1 as the larger DB2 population follows an increasing trend from A.D. 1150 to the end of occupation.

In summary, DB1 provided a preliminary sketch of the data, identifying potential patterns, specifically those between the NTA and TD population age and sex, body position, burial type, burial location, and presence or absence of grave goods. As will be seen, the statistical analysis of DB2 addresses the most salient of these potential pattern variables as a means of testing the statistical validity of the data.

A final comparison is presented in the combined data for trauma, disarticulation, and NTA populations by body count and event. As discussed briefly above, the location of the body within the site is important to understanding patterns in Anasazi violence, especially if we accept that the disarticulation population does represent a form of violent activity. According to LeBlanc (1999:85), “the presence of bodies that were never formally buried is surprisingly common.” Turner and Turner (1999:52) see the location of bodies as a difference between considerate and inconsiderate burial, with the disarticulation cases representing the latter. Both of these approaches bring about a sense of randomness, bodies being left scattered across the landscape or “unceremoniously dumped into the grave pit” (Turner and Turner 1999:52). The DB1 data indicate that burial location in both trauma and disarticulation cases was anything but random. As will be seen below, this supposition is supported in the DB2 analysis as well. There appears to be an overwhelming tendency in both trauma and disarticulated populations for the dead to be centrally located within sites (i.e., central pit structures and the surface rooms immediately surrounding them). This is a different pattern than that of the NTA, in which the bodies were overwhelmingly buried in the southern peripheries of the sites. It must be made clear that neither trauma nor disarticulated individuals appear to have been left unburied, nor were they simply “dumped.” Indeed, there appears to have been a specific and organized concept of where these bodies were left or placed.

Database 2 and Statistical Results Following the analysis of DB1, two things were evident. First, it was clear that the identification of patterns in the DB1 population was tenuous without the analysis of a larger population. Second, statistical support of the DB1 data was crucial to the validity of conclusions regarding patterning in violent activity among the Anasazi. DB2 must be viewed as both separate from and connected to DB1. The DB1 populations were supplemented by additional cases in DB2, as discussed in the Introduction and Methods chapters. The most salient variables (those with the greatest number of entries) of DB1 were the focus of DB2. DB2 included 1,803 individual bodies, separated into NTA (n = 1,000) and TD (n = 803) populations. It was stated at the end of the last section that the trauma and disarticulation populations were combined for the DB2 analysis. This combination is justified by the finding in DB1 that both populations followed the same patterns regarding grave type, grave location, and presence/absence of grave goods. This suggests that even though the disarticulation popula-

Overall, then, there appear to be patterns in Anasazi violence within the DB1 traumatic and disarticulated populations when compared to the DB1 non-trauma population.

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 53. DB1 disarticulation population and structure abandonment.

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 54. DB1 combined population temporal distribution. 76

Chapter 5: Results

tion in this study received further treatment after traumatic death, they are probably part of the same population.

tion of the two clusters identified in the Two-Step Cluster Analysis.

The goals of DB2 analysis were the statistical testing of cluster identification and statistical significance testing of the individual variables that helped form the clusters (presence/absence of grave goods for example). To this end, the NTA and TD study populations were first combined into a single group and tested to see if they would break apart into different subgroups (clusters) based on the variables discussed above. Allowing for 15 subgroups, the test resulted in two groups identified as NTA and TD, thus negating the possibility that there is no difference in the combined study population. The observed differences in the DB1 trauma and non-trauma groups are statistically valid. As will be noted below, the recombination of individual cases shifted the total numbers of NTA and TD slightly. Following the initial cluster testing, individual variables were analyzed. The purpose of this was to identify the distance between clusters in each variable and the statistical significance of each cluster. The latter was achieved through chi-square testing. The results of this aspect of DB2 analysis were the identification of the variables that contributed most to the formation of the population clusters.

It is important to point out that these 263 individuals were not identified in the literature as having died traumatically. Thus, there is a question regarding whether or not these individuals may have indeed died of nontraumatic causes, or if they are simply a shadow of the vagaries of the statistical model. The NTA population appears to be fluid enough in terms of the variables tested that some of its population is classified as TD. The five variables that were the most powerful in driving the clusters were age, presence/absence of grave goods, body position, grave type, and grave location. Any combination of these variables could have pushed an NTA burial into the TD cluster. For instance, a body with no burial pit, and no grave goods that was located in the central portion of the site would have more in common with the trauma population than the non-trauma population. A closer examination of the 263 individuals in DB2 indicates that there were three main variables involved in identifying these individuals as TD. The most prominent was grave type and location within the site. All of these individuals were recovered in surface rooms or pit structure fill in the central portion of the DB2 sites. It will be recalled from the DB1 discussion that the surface rooms and pit structures at the center of sites are almost entirely the domain of the TD population. The greatest portion of the NTA population is in the midden areas on the southern periphery of the sites studied. A second factor was the presence or absence of grave goods. Very few of these individuals had grave goods with them. Finally, body position appears to have played a small role in moving the individuals across into the TD population. This is of interest because it is a gray area in the research, in as much as there is a statistical overlap between the two populations. Regardless of the cause, this shift in cluster size as compared to raw counts did not affect the outcome of the study in any way because the sample size was large enough to absorb the change.

Results of Initial Cluster Analysis As outlined in the Methods chapter, the DB2 NTA and TD study populations were first subjected to Two-Step Cluster Analysis. As a means of making the test more rigorous, the data were tested for a maximum of 15 clusters. Thus, data had to be very similar for inclusion in a cluster. SPSS automatically calculates the clusters within a population (if they exist) by first calculating the Schwarz Bayesian Criterion (BIC). The BIC is used to identify the number of clusters in the data set. According to Norušis (2005:382), the researcher is “interested in finding the number of clusters at which the Schwarz Bayesian Criterion, abbreviated BIC…becomes small and the change in BIC between adjacent number clusters is small.” In the case of the DB2 data, the algorithm selected two clusters with the first change between Clusters 2 and 3 (the number 1 in the test is reserved for the entire population). Table 11 and Table 12 introduce the data for this portion of the test, and Figure 55 presents the data graphically.

Individual Variable Analysis Note that percentages discussed in the text relate to the Two-Step analysis tables. These percentages are tied to the analysis of each variable presented in the tables. The associated figures give the percentage of each variable category against the entire study population of 1,803 bodies, showing that the patterns indicate diachronic trends rather than sample size.

Changes in Population Totals Two-Step Cluster Analysis changed the raw totals by grouping some supposed NTA burials within the TD population because they were more similar to that cluster than the NTA cluster. This suggests that there is a greater gradation between the NTA and TD burial populations than appears to be the case when simply looking at the raw data counts of DB1. Thus, the new population totals for this portion of the study are 737 NTA and 1066 TD, a difference of 263 individuals. Table 12 summarizes the distribu-

DB2 Age and Sex The variable encoded for age at time of death is represented by Table 13 and presented graphically in Figure 56. As will be noted in the table, children were almost equally split

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Table 11. DB2 Combined Population Two-Step Clustering Schwarz’s Bayesian Criterion (BIC)

Number of Clusters

Ratio of BIC Changes(b)

BIC Change(a)

Ratio of Distance Measures(c)

1

30193.648

2

26496.262

-3697.385

1.000

1.708

3

24433.790

-2062.472

.558

1.431

4

23066.626

-1367.164

.370

1.104

5

21851.519

-1215.108

.329

1.325

6

20994.770

-856.748

.232

1.245

7

20355.323

-639.447

.173

1.069

8

19772.935

-582.388

.158

1.340

9

19401.294

-371.641

.101

1.042

10

19054.579

-346.715

.094

1.225

11

18816.792

-237.787

.064

1.212

12

18663.848

-152.944

.041

1.065

13

18535.275

-128.573

.035

1.085

14

18436.017

-99.257

.027

1.007

15

18339.108

-96.910

.026

1.014

(a) The changes are from the previous number of clusters in the table (b) The ratios of changes are relative to the change for the two cluster solution (c) The ratios of distance measures are based on the current number of clusters against the previous number of clusters

Table 12. DB2 Population Cluster Distribution N Cluster

% of Combined

% of Total

1

1,066

59.1%

59.1%

2

737

40.9%

40.9%

1,803

100.0%

100.0%

Combined Total

1,803

between the Cluster 1 (TD = 51.1 percent) and Cluster 2 (NTA = 48.9 percent) populations. These data suggest that children died nearly as often traumatically as they did of nontraumatic causes in the DB2 population. Evidence regarding the TD children gathered from DB1 suggests that nearly all children in the TD population were purposely disarticulated after death (there are eight children present in the record that were traumatically killed). In the Adolescent category there is more telling evidence of separation between the TD and NTA populations. The distribution of 78.6 percent trauma and 21.4 percent non-trauma indicates that the majority of adolescents in the study population died violently. These percentages should not be confused with the actual number of cases present. Turning back to DB1 it can be seen that the adolescent group is the smallest in the entire suite of both NTA and TD populations. These data suggest several things. First, they suggest low mortality in the study population after puberty and where mortality is present among adolescents there is a strong likelihood that violence was involved. This is similar to trauma data for other prehistoric populations (Ames 2001; Carman and

100.0%

Harding 1999; Halbmayer 2001; Holliman 2001; Keeley 1996; LeBlanc 1999; Maschner and Reedy-Maschner 1998; Zimmerman 1997). The expectation among the Anasazi, following such data, would be that more trauma death would occur in adolescent and adult groups, as these people should have been involved in activities that could have led to traumatic death. These activities could include interpersonal conflict and warfare (see, for example, Carman and Harding 1999; Clastres 1994; Halbmayer 2001; Keeley 1996; LeBlanc 1999; Schröder 2001). This does seem to be supported in the DB2 analysis. The adult population comparisons indicate that 58.9 percent were located in TD (Cluster 1) and 41.1 percent fell into NTA (Cluster 2). It is interesting that so many adults did die traumatically in the study population. This trend was introduced in the DB1 discussion in that the majority of adult individuals, for which there is specific age at death information in the TD population, appear to fall in the 30–40-year age group, rather than the 20–30-year age group. If this is true, then the Anasazi TD population does

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Table 13. DB2 Age at Death No Data Frequency

Percent

Cluster 1 TD

52

67.5%

Cluster 2 NTA

25

32.5%

Combined

77

100.0% Child

Frequency

Percent

Cluster 1 TD

298

51.1%

Cluster 2 NTA

285

48.9%

Combined

583

100.0%

Adolescent Frequency

Percent

Cluster 1 TD

169

78.6%

Cluster 2 NTA

46

21.4%

Combined

215

100.0% Adult

Frequency

Percent

Cluster 1 TD

547

58.9%

Cluster 2 NTA

381

41.1%

Combined

928

100.0%

Table 14. Cluster Distribution for Sex No Data Cluster

Male

Female

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

1 TD

601

57.8%

265

63.9%

200

57.5%

2 NTA

439

42.2%

150

36.1%

148

42.5%

Combined

1040

100.0%

415

100.0%

348

100.0%

not follow the world-prehistoric trauma death data, where the majority of individuals fall into the latter age grouping (Carman and Harding 1999; Keeley 1996; LeBlanc 1999). As discussed in DB1, the 30–40-year group among the Anasazi might be considered the “home group,” or the set of people who were too old to efficiently take part in activities outside of the village. This line of reasoning needs to be carefully examined in the future. It is also important to point out that the lack of younger adults does not necessarily indicate that they were not dying traumatically, but that they were not buried in the sites studied. Indeed, these individuals may have been killed and buried far from home.

el of confidence. At this most rigorous level, there is over a 99 percent chance that the variable is involved in driving cluster formation. Data regarding individual sex was lacking in both DB1 and in DB2, for the reason that a large majority of children are present in the record and children under the age of about 12 years cannot be accurately sexed (Scheuer and Black 2000:15–17; Sandy Karhu, personal communication 2002). Additionally, many of the adult individuals in this study were so heavily disarticulated that no estimation of sex could be made. Finally, in most of the early documents (first half of the twentieth century) the researchers only recorded individual burials as adult with no sex indicated. Sex, as presented in Table 14, is dominated by the No Data category. Of the remaining categories (male and female), there are slightly more males than females in the TD cluster (Cluster 1) population and males and females are nearly evenly distributed in the NTA (Cluster 2) population. Males are better represented in the TD (63.9 percent) than in the NTA population (36.1 percent), and

Age does appear to play a significant role in driving the clusters, as indicated by the chi-square results in Figure 57. Note that the blue line represents the critical value. The bars indicate significance when continuing past the critical value line to the right-hand side of the bar chart. The age variable is not as critical in driving the formation of the NTA and TD clusters as other variables, but it is involved. The chi-square tests were executed at the 99.9 percent lev-

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 55. DB2 population cluster size and distribution. Table 15. Body Position No Data Cluster

Flexed

Extended

Bundle

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

1 TD

184

45.7%

224

32.6%

46

54.1%

11

100.0%

2 NTA

219

54.3%

463

67.4%

39

45.9%

0

.0%

Combined

403

100.0%

687

100.0%

85

100.0%

11

100.0%

Sprawled Cluster

1 TD

Disarticulated

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

137

98.6%

464

97.1%

2 NTA

2

1.4%

14

2.9%

Combined

139

100.0%

478

100.0%

there is a similar distribution in the female category (TD 57.5 percent, NTA 42.5 percent). The validity of these distributions must be questioned, given the heavy weighting toward the No Data category, but if they have any meaning it likely will be found in the distribution of males to females within each of the clusters. It may be that more males than females died of traumatic injury. This would tend to be supported by worldwide prehistoric data (Car-

man and Harding 1999; Keeley 1996; LeBlanc 1999 ). In general terms, then, the nearly even distribution of males and females in the non-trauma population would also stand to reason. The distributions are presented in Figure 58 and the chi-square value is presented in Figure 59 at the 99.9 percentile of confidence. Clearly, the chi-square data indicate that sex is not a significant variable driving the formation of the population clusters.

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Chapter 5: Results

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 56. DB2 NTA and TD age frequencies.

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 57. DB2 NTA and TD age chi-square value at 99.9 percentile.

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 58. DB2 TD and NTA sex frequencies.

Figure 59. DB2 sex distribution chi-square value at the 99.9 percentile.

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Chapter 5: Results

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 60. DB2 body position frequency. DB2 Body Position

The most prominent of the five positions, as introduced in Table 15 and in Figure 60, is Position 1: Flexed Burial, with 687 bodies. In the trauma articulated subgroup of the TD study population, 32.6 percent of the bodies were found in a flexed position as opposed to fully 67.4 percent of the NTA population. There is a strong bias toward the non-trauma group having been placed in a flexed position after death in the study population.

The position that bodies were placed in, or were left in, at the time of death/burial is another major factor in the formation of the NTA and TD population clusters, and consists of three basic categories: bodies intentionally molded to a specific position after death, bodies left as they lay at the time of death, and bodies that were processed via dismemberment after death. Although not as strongly expressed as other variables in the study, there are clear differences indicating differences in trauma and non-trauma body positions.

This finding was expected among the NTA population because it is often cited as the position the dead were typically placed in (see, for example, McGregor 1982) (Figure 61). Surprisingly, a relatively high frequency TD bodies were encountered in Position 1 (Flexed) in the DB2 population. The potential for some of the TD group to have been buried in the NTA fashion is discussed throughout the DB2 section of this book, but is focused on here because of the significantly high percentage of TD bodies in this position. This position accounts for 224 of the TD bodies and indicates that not all of the TD were left where they lay, either away from the site or within the site boundaries.

In the DB1 data, the raw counts appeared to indicate that there was no separation at all between the NTA and TD populations other than in the disarticulation group. Cluster testing and chi-square testing show that there was, indeed, a significant separation in the populations. Five distinct body positions were present within the study population including flexed, extended, bundle, sprawled, and disarticulated. It should be noted that 403 bodies had no information regarding burial position and thus fell into the No Data category. These bodies had no reported position for a variety of reasons, including researcher oversight, secondary disturbance, and in rare instances, poor bone preservation.

There is a nearly an even split between the NTA (45.9 percent) and TD (54.1 percent) groups in Position 2: Extended (n = 85). Although some of the TD may have been intentionally molded into an extended position after death,

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 61. NTA flexed position burial. (Photo by the author)

Figure 62. This individual died traumatically but was not disarticulated. (Photo by anonymous)

it is more likely that the researchers classified the burials as extended for want of a better description and that is reflected in this study. Again, as discussed in DB1, it is context that matters. An extended burial lying on the floor of a pit structure will more likely belong to the TD group than will a body lying extended in a formal grave pit within a midden.

but much more research must be completed on the bundle burial type in a broader Anasazi population study before any such conclusions are possible. One hundred and thirty-nine bodies in this study represent Position 4: Sprawled Burials, and fully 98.6 percent of these fall within the TD population cluster. These individuals were most often recovered from pit structure and surface room floors and the combination of this position and the grave type context are most telling about this group. Archaeologically, it appears that the individuals were killed in the structures (contra Wilshusen 1986:248). Additionally, the roofs of the structures in which these individuals were encountered were burned or purposely col-

Position 3: Bundle Burial was very rare in the study population (n = 11), even though it occurs throughout the Anasazi occupation. With so few bodies present, meaningful discussion is not possible. Of the 11 bodies, 100 percent were in the TD population. It may be that this form of burial is somehow related to the disarticulation burial type,

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Chapter 5: Results

Figure 63. Disarticulated individuals on pit structure floor, site 5MT3. (Photo by the author)

Figure 64. DB2 body position chi-square value at the 99.9 percentile. lapsed at the time of death or immediately after (see DB1 discussion). When placing these two facts together in context, a picture of a common burial pattern among the study population emerges. It is unknown, of course, who killed these individuals, but it is certain that they were either killed in the pit structure, or purposely deposited there immediately after death and the building intentionally sealed through roof destruction. Although not the most common

TD burial position, it is one of the most archaeologically visible, in terms of what a researcher encounters during excavation (Figure 62). Many of these individuals are encountered near the exits of the pit structures and some have their hands to their throats, as though dying of asphyxiation (Wilshusen 1986). Others have indications of blows to the head and/or projectile points in their body cavities, suggesting that they were killed in the structure by a blunt

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 65. DB2 NTA and TD grave type distributions.

Figure 66. DB2 grave type chi-square value at the 99.9 percentile.

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Chapter 5: Results

instrument or arrow (see, for example, Blumenthal 1940; Duke 1985; LeBlanc 1999; Mackey and Green 1979; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner and Turner 1999).

grave type is among the top three deciding variables regarding separation between the two populations. There are 12 individual grave types within the variable for the study population. Table 16 indicates the various grave types and associated frequencies/percentages between the NTA and TD cluster populations. As shown in the table and depicted in Figure 65, there is a clear difference between the TD and NTA population (Clusters 1 and 2) grave types. The major categorical separations lie in pit structures (TD 99.7 percent, NTA 0.3 percent), burial pits inside middens (TD 0.00 percent, NTA 100 percent), burials in middens (TD 0.00 percent, NTA 100 percent), and surface rooms (TD 94.9 percent, NTA 5.1 percent). It should be noted that burials in pits within midden areas and burials in middens represent the same thing in terms of location; both occur in middens. The separation between bodies in formal pits and bodies that were simply placed in these refuse areas was apparent in the literature and retained in the course of this study; however, the results were not affected in any way by maintaining this separation.

Disarticulation in the TD and NTA population reveals that 97.1 percent of the bodies were intentionally disarticulated after death (Position 5), as opposed to only 2.9 percent of the non-trauma population. It is important to note that the latter of these occurs in two different ways, according to the literature. First, some bodies were naturally disarticulated from environmental disturbance, such as secondary deposit through water erosion. The second manner in which the NTA bodies became disarticulated was through prehistoric disturbance and reburial. Many of the sites in this study were occupied for several generations prior to final abandonment. As villages expanded and were remodeled, they often encountered the dead from previous occupation. These bodies were generally reburied, and in some cases the reburial consisted of piling the bones in a pit. In no cases of NTA disarticulation was there intentional dismemberment. It will be remembered that the label NTA is one of convenience, as explained in Chapter 1, and that there is, in reality, a continuum from articulated to disarticulated in both the trauma and non-trauma populations.

With the exception of burials in surface rooms that may be grouped with either cluster, as discussed in the introduction to the DB2 section, there is clearly an observable separation between grave types in the two populations: the TD are not buried in middens, while the majority of the NTA are. Conversely, the NTA are not often found on pit structure floors. It is likely that the TD populations recovered from pit structure and surface room floors died in the structures and were buried by intentional roof burning or collapse at the time of the event or shortly after. The majority of the NTA population died elsewhere and the bodies were placed in the middens, often in pits constructed specifically for burial.

Purposeful disarticulation, as seen in the TD group, has been interpreted as evidence of cannibalism by previous researchers (see, for example, LeBlanc 1999; Turner and Turner 1999) based on the extreme nature of the dismemberment (Figure 63). It has long been the argument of some (Cater 1995; Darling 1995) that the reduction of the bone elements in these cases goes far beyond what would be necessary for simple bone marrow extraction and thus, there is more to these cases than anthropophagy. For example, the disarticulation burials excavated by the author had no long bone elements that were more than 7 cm in length. Recent bone refitting strongly suggests that these individuals met with a violent end prior to being dismembered (Kathy Mowrer, personal communication 2006).

In terms of the categories within this variable, Number 1 represents those individuals for which no grave type information was available. These cases are generally derived from the early literature, although one case occurred in the 1980s when a citizen illicitly collected a burial and later presented it to a museum with no provenience information. The body had evidence of severe prehistoric trauma when analyzed and was thus included in this study.

Why these individuals were disarticulated will likely remain indeterminate, but the probability that violence was involved is relatively certain. Body position is an important variable in forming the population clusters, as evidenced in Figure 64. It is more strongly associated with the TD population than that of the NTA population. This suggests that there is more variability in the body positions of the NTA than there is among the TD, which is made clear in the foregoing discussion.

Column 2 in Figure 65 signifies the most prominent burial location of the TD population, the pithouse. As noted above, nearly 100 percent of the TD population was recovered from pithouses. The pit structure was at one time home and church to the Anasazi and was always at the center of daily village life, literally and figuratively. It will be remembered from the Culture History chapter that pit structures slowly transformed from mainly domestic structures in the early Anasazi cosmology, to mainly ceremonial structures in the later periods.

DB2 Grave Type In DB1, the variable of grave type was introduced as one of the most important markers of the pattern differences between the NTA and TD populations. This supposition, based on raw data analysis, is supported in the DB2 data. Indeed, it is likely that out of all the variables analyzed,

Column 3 represents the distribution of surface room burial locations. As has been discussed through the course of this book, both the NTA and TD populations have been

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Table 16. DB2 Grave Type Distribution No Data Cluster

Surface Room

Structure Other

Bell Shaped Pit

Pit Other

Freq

%

Freq

%

Freq

%

Freq

%

Freq

%

Freq

%

1 TD

14

77.8

356

99.7

224

94.9

69

100

78

81.3

144

69.9

2 NTA

4

22.2

1

.3

12

5.1

0

.0

18

18.8

62

30.1

18

100

357

100

236

100

69

100

96

100

206

100

Midden Cluster

Pit Structure Floor

Burial Pit

Burial Other

Burial Pit In Midden

Burial Pit in Surface Room

Burial Pit Pit Structure Fill

Freq

%

Freq

%

Freq

%

Freq

%

Freq

%

Freq

%

1 TD

0

.0

0

.0

1

8.3

0

.0

159

89.3

21

44.7

2 NTA

221

100

97

100

11

91.7

266

100

19

10.7

26

55.3

221

100

97

100

12

100

266

100

178

100

47

100

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 67. DB2 NTA and TD distribution of grave goods. recovered from these loci. The DB2 data reveal, however, that 94.9 percent of remains recovered from these locations belong to the TD population and only about 5.1 percent fall within the NTA study population. If the study population can be used as a proxy for the greater Anasazi population, then it may be said that burials encountered in surface rooms, like those in pit structures, have a vastly greater likelihood of having died traumatically.

In Figure 65, the fourth column is the distribution of NTA and TD bodies in structures other than surface rooms or pit structures. Once again there is a bias toward individuals in these structures to have met with a violent end. Indeed, in the DB2 analysis, no NTA bodies were reported in these types of structures (a total of 69 TD bodies were reported). The majority of these bodies were encountered within one subculture area of the Anasazi, known as the Gallina,

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Chapter 5: Results

Figure 68. DB2 grave goods chi-square value at the 99.9 percentile. and in that region tower complexes are common structure types. Again, as with pit structures and many surface room TD burials, the roofs of these structures are either burned or collapsed at the time of the death event, or shortly thereafter.

Columns 7, 8, and 10 should be grouped as a single grave type, called Midden. As discussed above, the various grave types discussed in the literature were retained for the purposes of identifying potential patterns between these grave types. Since so few TD burials were encountered in midden areas in DB2, it is recommended that these types of burial be grouped in future research. It must be reiterated that the midden was nearly the exclusive province of the non-trauma dead. As is the case with pit structures and the TD population, middens and NTA burials appear to have been associated.

The fifth grave type is the bell-shaped pit. This feature is ubiquitous throughout the Anasazi occupation and served many functions, including storage and roasting of food products. Once these pits fell into disuse they often became tombs. In this study, 96 bodies were encountered in bell-shaped pits. Of these, the vast majority had evidence of trauma (81.3 percent), suggesting that this was often the locus of TD burial. It is likely that this burial type among the TD represents the removal of the dead from where they fell and their placement in pits. Many of the pits retained multiple bodies interred in a single event, suggesting death in a single trauma event. In these cases, bell-shaped pits became convenient mass graves.

Columns 9 and 12 represent variations on burial types and are so infrequent in the DB2 database that there can be no meaningful discussion of them, other than that they may take on more prominent roles with additional excavation. Finally, column 11 represents the grave type of formal burial pit excavated in the floor or postabandonment fill of a surface room. There were 178 cases in DB2 associated with this grave type. Fully 89.3 percent of these had evidence of trauma. It seems likely that these individuals represent bodies collected by family or friends and formally buried.

“Pit Other” is a generic grave type and is the sixth type in this study. It represents all other types of pits that are not bell shaped. The exception to this is formal grave pits, which form a separate category. In DB2, 206 individuals were associated with this grave type. The TD population once again was the most frequent (69.9 percent), although the NTA population was represented (30.1 percent). Once again, it seems likely that these pits became convenient tombs for both NTA and TD burial. Several of these pits retained multiple burials and of these at least one individual always had evidence of skeletal trauma.

Figure 66 indicates the significance of the grave type variable in driving the cluster formation. As was the case with the grave goods variable, the association of grave type is greater in the NTA population than in the TD population, but both are clearly significant in driving the formation of the population clusters. This variable is statistically sig-

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Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 69. DB2 NTA and TD burial location frequencies. nificant enough that it is likely that grave type alone could be used to identify bodies belonging to the TD and NTA groups in the greater Anasazi population in future studies.

broadly discussed in the literature, as at least some refuse has been recovered in all of the TD cases in this study (see, for example, Judd 1954; Lightfoot 1990:1; Morris 1939; Schlanger and Wilshusen 1990:16; Wilshusen 1986:248).

DB2 Grave Goods

After careful review of the literature, it is the assumption of this study that none of the artifacts encountered in structures with human remains can be considered burial goods. This assumption is also supported by a broad review of structure floor contents both with and without burials in association. In only one case studied was there any difference in floor artifact types or expected counts between structures with burials and those without. The site, LA26272, was encountered in New Mexico, near the Colorado and New Mexico border (Cater 1995). The portion of the site important to this study dated to the late Basketmaker III to early Pueblo I (A.D. 500–800) and is single a pit structure locality. Upon excavation, 13 heavily disarticulated individuals were encountered on the pit structure floor. Artifacts were clearly associated with the individuals on the floor and the dismemberment event because the floor artifact assemblage was very purposely arranged. Since this is the only clear example to date of artifacts in direct association with TD individuals in a pit structure setting, the description of the floor artifact as-

The next variable considered is that of grave goods. This variable would appear to be the most straightforward of the entire suite: either there are grave goods or there are not, in association with individual burials. A complication arises, however, when considering human burials recovered from the floors of structures. Careful consideration must be given to artifacts that were either part of a functioning structure or were artifacts left behind upon structure abandonment, but prior to use as a burial chamber (de facto refuse). Wilshusen (1986), Morris (1988), and Lightfoot (1993) have discussed the artifact assemblages in pit structures with human remains as evidence of artifacts associated with an in-use structure up to the burial event, but not including it. Their main argument, and one that holds true in this study, is that the artifacts recovered from the structure floors were consistent with artifacts from the floors of structures where no burials were encountered. Additionally, the majority of these artifacts were domestic in function. The classification of de facto refuse is much more

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semblage is here reprinted as an example of what may be encountered in future excavations. According to Cater:

The majority of the TD population was recovered from pit structure loci. Based on the literature and personal experience, the stratigraphy of these structures is all very similar with roof fall directly on the floor and covering the human remains. This is then covered, in turn, either by sterile postabandonment fill, or occasionally refuse from continued site occupation, and finally postabandonment fill. The roofs were either intentionally burned or intentionally collapsed after the death event (see discussion in DB1 section). The burning/collapsing of the roofs appears to have occurred simultaneously with the death events. Thus, artifacts that may have been in place either as household goods, or de facto refuse in the case of abandoned structures, were sealed in with the burials. There would have been no way of including grave goods in the majority of cases. In the few cases where grave goods are present with the trauma population, they appear to have been placed after the time of death.

The possibility of a ceremonial configuration of the floor assemblage became apparent when it was noted that all complete or fragmented tools that were white in color were also located on the northeastern side of the structure. It is well established that Puebloan people attribute ritual significance to color and direction, and these two elements are interrelated. Although there are some differences between the various Puebloan groups, color and direction symbolism is basically the same throughout. For the purposes of this report, color-directional symbolism of the Hopi will be used. Within Hopi cosmology, white is associated with the northeast, red with the southeast, yellow with the northwest and blue/green with the southwest. The zenith is associated with black, while the nadir is associated with all colors. Although there is not a one-to-one correlation, the differences between the color-direction symbolism and the colors of artifacts placed on the floor of the structure are considered to be minimal. As mentioned above, the white artifacts are located in the northeast. A single red colored chopper is the furthest southeast of any floor artifacts recovered, and the only red colored artifact from the site. A large piece of yellow ocher was located on the northwest side of the structure, although the item was not specifically point provenienced. A small manuport of green quartzite was recovered from the north side of Processing Station 3 (on the southwest side of the structure). Black or dark colored formal tools were recovered across the floor [Cater1995:7-8 and 7-13].

In these cases, the TD individual was found in a position similar to that of the NTA individuals (usually flexed) and often in a formal burial pit. These rare cases indicate that following a traumatic death, the individual was treated in the same fashion as the non-trauma dead, including the placement of formal grave goods. It is possible that these individuals were recovered by family or friends after death and formally buried in the NTA fashion. The significance of grave goods in forming the clusters is illustrated in Figure 68. Again, its distance to the right of the critical value line indicates the statistical importance of the variable. Clearly, grave goods are an important factor in identifying the TD and NTA populations, despite the vagaries of in-use and de facto artifacts. It is apparent in the figure that grave-good association is more powerful in terms of significance for the NTA population than it is for the TD population. This should be expected, given the discussion above.

This is currently the only example of this sort of ritual overlay, yet it is likely that it is not the only Anasazi site in which this situation occurred. Such ritual overlay of artifacts could easily be missed during excavation and analysis, especially in cases where there are many floor artifacts present. Indeed, the discovery of the overlay at LA26272 would have been missed had the author not noticed the color separations.

DB2 Burial Location Burial location within an individual site is also an important variable with regard to the overall separation of the DB2 population in the Two-Step Cluster Analysis. This variable has 14 categories that can be explained as moving from the center of the site to the site periphery. The categories have structure and feature corollaries in that Central is almost always synonymous with Pit Structure; Central North, East, West, and South generally represent the locations of surface rooms and plaza areas in Anasazi sites. Periphery North is the area immediately north of the surface rooms and Periphery East and West are east and west of the surface rooms. Periphery South usually represents the midden area. This is also the case with Periphery East occasionally. “Outside” represents any area beyond the site features, but within 500 m of the site boundary. “Isolated” represents human remains not associated with an archaeological site context. In Table 18, Outside East, and Outside

Despite the above example, only 27.5 percent of the Cluster 1 (TD) population had grave goods in association with them at burial, while the Cluster 2 (NTA) population had 72.5 percent of the grave goods from this study in association, as presented in Table 17. Based on this separation, it is fairly clear that the presence or absence of grave goods likely is a good indicator of association with either the TD or NTA population. There appears to be a strong bias against including formal grave goods with the trauma population and a similar bias toward including formal grave goods with the non-trauma individuals. This difference is depicted graphically in Figure 67.

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Table 17. DB2 NTA and TD Presence/Absence of Grave Goods Present Frequency Cluster

Absent Percent

Frequency

Percent

1 TD

184

2 NTA

485

72.5%

252

22.2%

Combined

669

100.0%

1134

100.0%

27.5%

West are not represented, because there were no burials in these areas, either TD or NTA.

882

77.8%

this area of Anasazi sites was infrequently the resting place of the TD population. The Periphery West was somewhat surprising. Generally, this was another area where few activities took place; use areas are rare if they are present at all (McGregor 1982; Morris 1939). Apparently, this was a location for burials, based on the DB2 analysis. A total of 104 individuals was represented from this portion of the Anasazi sites in the study. The Periphery West also appears to be largely the domain of the NTA population, representing 98.1 percent.

The most salient of the categories is Central (TD 87.2 percent, NTA 12.8 percent), followed by Periphery South (TD 0.3 percent, NTA 99.7 percent), as shown in Figure 69. Thus, it may be seen that the portion of Anasazi sites most associated with the daily lives of the Anasazi became the resting places of the traumatically killed more often than any other of the burial locations in the DB2 analysis. Conversely, the burial location of the NTA was almost always peripheral to the main activity areas within any given site in this study. There is, of course, a distinct structure and feature corollary, in that these two location categories could read as pit structure/surface rooms and midden. The patterning of burial location is clearly one of the strongest driving factors forming the population clusters in this study. As was the case with the grave type variable discussed above, the burial location appears to have meaning in the cosmology of the Anasazi.

The Periphery South has already been discussed, but its importance to the NTA population cannot be denied. As is the case with grave type, this location appears to have had importance among the Anasazi, and will be discussed more fully later. The final area of interest for this variable consists of burials that were ancillary to the sites studied, but within 500 m of the site locations and likely associated with the site occupations. None of the burial numbers are large, but the data certainly deserve more attention in the future. Meaningful discussion of the current data is difficult, but it would seem that there is a shift from NTA dominance in the periphery areas back to TD dominance in the outer and isolated occurrence areas. The Outside North retained 12 individuals in this study. Of those, 75 percent were associated with the TD population in the cluster testing. The Outside South location retained only 3 individuals and salient discussion is not possible at this time because of the small number of individuals present in this study.

There were 185 individuals in the Central North portion of the DB2 sites. These individuals were overwhelmingly TD at 98.9 percent, indicating that when burials are encountered in this area of Anasazi sites there will very likely be evidence of traumatic death. This is also the case in the Central East category, with 84.3 percent of the 87 individuals present being associated with the TD population. More significantly, in the Central West category there were 159 individuals represented in the DB2 analysis, and 92.5 percent of these were traumatically killed. The Central South location is the weakest of the categories, with only 41 individuals present. Although few individuals were present, they follow a similar pattern with regard to population affiliation, with 87.8 percent assigned to the TD group. Once again, these categories generally represent surface rooms located around the pit structures of the Anasazi sites in this study. Thus, the central areas of Anasazi sites produced the majority of the TD population in this study

Finally, the category of Isolated Occurrence Burials had no site association in the literature. These rare burials actually represent 47 individuals and 93.6 percent of these cluster in the TD population. It should be noted that three of these isolated sites were disarticulation loci and represent as many as 13 of the bodies in this study (Turner and Turner 1999). It can be pointed out, yet again, that there is a strong bias toward the TD population being located in the central portion of the site and the NTA population being present in the southern periphery. This category could be used alone to indicate different patterns between the trauma and nontrauma populations. Figure 70 indicates the significance of the variable at the 99.9 percentile of confidence.

The Periphery North is immediately north of the surface rooms at Anasazi sites. It is relatively well established that very few activities occurred in these areas (McGregor 1982; Morris 1939). This also holds true for use of the area for burials. Only 39 individuals are represented from this portion of site area, and all were clustered in the NTA population. Conversely, the Periphery East retained a large number of individuals in DB2 (n = 113). This area is also often associated with midden deposits on Anasazi sites, especially in the early periods (Basketmaker III and Pueblo I). This fact is clearly reflected in the population assignment of this area. The NTA dominated with 97.3 percent, indicating that

DB2 Statistical Analysis Summary With the exception of the sex of the individual, all of the selected variables were found to have significant influence on the formation of the population clusters. It may be said,

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Table 18. Burial Location within Site Central Cluster

Central N

Central E

Percent

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

557

87.2%

183

98.9%

82

94.3%

147

92.5%

1 TD 2 NTA

82

12.8%

2

1.1%

5

5.7%

12

7.5%

Combined

639

100.0%

185

100.0%

87

100.0%

159

100.0%

Central S Cluster

Periphery N

Periphery E

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

1 TD

36

87.8%

0

.0%

3

2.7%

2 NTA

5

12.2%

39

100.0%

110

97.3%

Combined

41

100.0%

39

100.0%

113

100.0%

Periphery W Cluster

Central W

Frequency

Periphery S

Outside N

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

1 TD

2

1.9%

1

.3%

9

75.0%

2 NTA

102

98.1%

373

99.7%

3

25.0%

Combined

104

100.0%

374

100.0%

12

100.0%

Outside S Cluster

Percent

Isolated

Frequency

Percent

Frequency

Percent

1 TD

2

66.7%

44

93.6%

2 NTA

1

33.3%

3

6.4%

Combined

3

100.0%

47

100.0%

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 70. DB2 burial location chi-square value at the 99.9 percentile. 93

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Note: Numbers above columns are actual values.

Figure 71. Temporal distribution of TD and NTA clusters. then, that the presence or absence of skeletal trauma and/ or purposeful disarticulation presumed to imply trauma, the position of the body, the grave type, the presence or absence of grave goods, and where the grave is located within the site all have significant influence on identifying the pattern differences between the NTA and TD populations. Indeed, grave type and grave location are strong enough indicators that they could be used alone to identify the TD and NTA populations of any given site, as shown by the data from both DB1 and DB2. The patterns are rather stark, in that the data reveal express opposites in treatment of the bodies within the study population. Whereas trauma seems to equal burial in a pit structure/surface room at the center of a site with no grave goods, non-trauma appears to equal burial in a midden on the periphery of the site with grave goods in accompaniment. These are not the only patterns regarding Anasazi violence that can be explored; however, they are the key elements in any study of this type. A second, broader data set that can be explored, in conjunction with the skeletal and site-specific detailed analysis, regards where these cases fall in time and across the landscape. These data are discussed in the next section.

Anasazi occupation periods. Data regarding the temporal and spatial distribution of the NTA/TD population and the sites they were associated with were also tested using Two-Step Cluster Analysis. This approach allowed for the analysis of each cluster (NTA/TD) in a temporal and spatial setting. As discussed in the Methods chapter, the NTA population was not included in the temporal plots because it is a representative sample and has no real meaning for comparison in the temporal and spatial fields of analysis. In referring to Figure 71, it is obvious that when there were a large number of TD in one time period, similar numbers of NTA from the same period were entered into the database to keep the samples comparable. In Figure 71, the time periods represented are in 50-year increments, based on dendrochronological dating and ceramic seriation, rather than the standard Pecos Classification date range. This was done to avoid the uneven nature of the Pecos system and to allow for the maximum scrutiny of change through time. As with any temporal data, peaks and valleys appear that might have cultural meaning. In terms of the deposition of the TD population, there is a spike between A.D. 450 and A.D. 500, followed by a low percentage of violence up to about A.D. 850, when another spike is apparent. This is followed by another apparent low point in violent activity to A.D. 1100. From A.D. 1150 to the end of the occupation at about A.D. 1300, violent activity appears to have been relatively constant.

A Bigger Picture: Temporal and Spatial Data To this point the discussion has centered on individual sets of data that are out of temporal and spatial context. This section will explore the data from the broader aspects of how they are represented in time and across the geographic landscape. It must be noted at the outset that this section is affected by where archaeological work has been completed in the region. There is an uneven distribution of excavated sites (for example, southwestern Colorado has seen more formal archaeological investigation than other of the study areas), although some excavation has occurred across the entire region.

If these data are then placed back into the Pecos system, the result is that the peaks in TD deposition appear to occur at the end of each Anasazi developmental period. The A.D. 450 to A.D. 500 peak occurs at the end of Basketmaker II, the slight rise at A.D. 700, though not a peak, represents the end of Basketmaker III. The peak between A.D. 850 and A.D. 900 occurs at the end of Pueblo I, and the peak at A.D. 1150 coincides with the end of Pueblo II. Violent activity appears to have been relatively constant throughout the Pueblo III period, after which the Anasazi abandoned the region. Regardless of the relatively constant nature of

Beginning with temporal associations, Figure 71 illustrates the distribution of the TD and NTA populations across the

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temporal patterns at the end of the Anasazi occupation, the fact that the sites in the study population generally fall within the periods of cultural change among the Anasazi is extremely important to our understanding of these events in a larger cultural setting. Cordell and Gummerman (2006:6) discuss these periods of time as “hinge points” where changes in behavior among the Anasazi appear to occur. They also discuss the possibility that rather than representing gradual change through time, these changes can occur quite rapidly. Periods of change among the Anasazi, it would appear, were also periods of sociocultural upheaval—some of which, it seems, led to violence. It is also evident from this analysis that the pattern of violence is not restricted to any specific time period. Indeed, it appears as a fully developed trait in the late Basketmaker II period, suggesting that violence probably played a part even earlier, during the Archaic period. It is possible that this period represents the transition from a mixed horticulture and hunting adaptation to one that was fully agricultural with a supplemental hunting and gathering diet (see Culture History chapter). Perhaps this change in socioeconomic lifeway was not an entirely peaceful shift.

reoccupied. This period is marked by more TD cases than the early Anasazi TD, but both appear to have been shortduration events, lasting no more than 50 years or so. This is a very different scenario than in the late periods, where TD cases appear in high numbers and are relatively constant temporally. The period between A.D. 900 and A.D. 1100 retains evidence of constant, but low-level, TD death. Other researchers have attributed this to a relative stability in the Anasazi culture area because of an amelioration of environment and the rise of the Chacoan subculture (LeBlanc 1999; Turner and Turner 1999). There is an unquestionable parallel between the rise of the Chacoan system and a decrease overall in the TD across the Anasazi region. To what extent Chaco had anything to do with decreased regional violence, however, remains in question. Some observers have argued for a PaxChaco[sic], in which the rise of the Chacoan system was enforced physically as the sphere of influence expanded (LeBlanc 1999; Turner and Turner 1999). The data in this study may draw this concept into question. As will be noted, the TD cases appear to return to levels noted in the early Anasazi occupation of the region. The data suggest that this may be the background level of violence through time in the Anasazi culture, rather than a “peace by force” from Chacoan overlords. Additionally, the TD in this period come from across the Anasazi culture area and if the Chacoan subculture was directly responsible for the TD in this period, then Chaco can be said to have directly influenced all of the Anasazi region. The archaeological record simply does not support this. Chaco was definitely an important center and had influence over a large area, but in recalling the Culture History chapter, the extent and nature of influence is still very much in question.

Regardless of cause, there were relatively few incidents of TD in the study population between A.D. 500 and A.D., 600 suggesting a period of stability in the Anasazi population. This is supported by the environmental record (Cordell 1984:42; LeBlanc 1999:34), and then between A.D. 600 and A.D. 750 there was a minor rise in TD cases. This marks the transition from Basketmaker III to Pueblo I. Many changes in Anasazi culture took place in this period. Architectural forms changed, as did pottery designs and styles. Along with these changes, there were TD deaths. An additional environmental note may be important as well. The period beginning at about A.D. 700 and continuing to about A.D. 1000 is one of environmental instability or “High Frequency Variability” as described by Cordell (1984:42) and this also may have contributed to the rise in TD, based on a model of environmental stress and competition for limited resources. The Basketmaker and Pueblo I TD cases are important in establishing the presence of violent activity in the early Anasazi occupation. They are also important in establishing not just the presence of a few cases of TD death before A.D. 700, but exposing what appears to be a fully developed trait among the early Anasazi.

Whether TD levels were influenced by Chaco or not, there is a marked increase in TD occurrence between A.D. 1100 and A.D. 1150, actually culminating at A.D. 1150, based on DB1 analysis. It is true that no increase as sharp as this peak had happened in the previous 500 years of Anasazi occupation. Some researchers also attribute this peak to the collapse of the Chacoan system. As with the decrease in TD cases, there is a direct parallel between the rise of TD cases and the changes seen in the Chacoan subculture at that time. The question that must be addressed in future research is whether the increase in TD was caused by the changes in the Chaco system, or whether the TD increase caused the changes in the Chacoan system to happen.

There is a relatively large spike in TD distribution at the end of the Pueblo I period, between A.D. 850 and A.D. 900. As discussed earlier, this period marks the collapse of large aggregated communities, especially in the northern portion of the Anasazi culture area. Structural burning at that time was rampant, with fully 90 percent of all late Pueblo I sites having been burned at the time of abandonment (Frank Eddy, personal communication 2004). Thus, it seems likely that the violence noted at sites with TD extends beyond those sites to other loci where perhaps no one died violently but the village was burned and never

It seems possible that the period between A.D. 1150 and A.D. 1200 represents a general decrease in violence. Perhaps this was a period of reorganization among the Anasazi. The archaeological record supports this supposition generally for this time period. The early Pueblo III period is marked by a population increase and the growth of large, aggregated communities (Cordell 1997:194). Changes in ceramic styles suggest that new iconography was being developed and old iconography was being modified. It is

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 72. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Basketmaker II. likely that there also was a return to slightly wetter conditions at this time throughout the region (Cordell 1984:42).

There are temporal separations in the spatial data that are important in interpretation. First, the Kayenta area TD population is really restricted to Basketmaker II and Pueblo III. Mesa Verde is relatively constant through time, as is the Upper San Juan. The Chaco/Chuska area is limited to Pueblo II and early Pueblo III, and the Gallina area is strictly limited to Pueblo II and Pueblo III. This distribution can be seen graphically on the following maps. In Figure 72, two sites are plotted, indicating the only archaeological sites in the Basketmaker II period with evidence of trauma-related death.

This short period of low TD case frequency is replaced by a rapid escalation of TD death from A.D. 1200 to A.D. 1250 and the greatest peak between A.D. 1250 and the ultimate abandonment of the region around A.D. 1300. This period has been noted as the most deadly among the Anasazi by other researchers (LeBlanc 1999; Turner and Turner 1999) and the data in this study appear to support this contention. Ultimately, we may never know with certainty the causes of the late TD death increase, but there are several factors that could have influenced the increase in violent activity at the time. The environment had once again shifted to a period of severe drought (Cordell 1984, 1997; LeBlanc 1999; McGregor 1982). It is likely that the population had already exceeded the carrying capacity of the environment when the drought conditions developed (LeBlanc 1999:131–314) and no new innovations in technology occurred that could have eased these pressures. Regardless of the ultimate cause or causes, the period ended with the abandonment of the region and the Anasazi moved ever southward, congregating along the Rio Grande in central New Mexico and around the Hopi Mesas of northern Arizona, where their descendants live today.

Although it is likely that there are many more TD sites dating to this period, these were either not discovered in the current research or they have not yet been excavated. Obviously, very little can be said with regard to traumarelated death in this period based on two site locations. It is important to note that 80 bodies were recovered from one site (Cave 7; see Blackburn and Williamson 1997; McNitt 1976; Turner and Turner 1999) and 13 from the second site. If an average Basketmaker II village had at least 15 individuals living in it (Wilshusen 1991:212), then it can be estimated that six entire villages were completely eradicated in the single Cave 7 event. As research into the Basketmaker II period continues, it is likely that additional sites will be encountered that will include evidence of traumatic death. This is supported by the appearance of several sites (n = 11, 62 bodies) in the following Basketmaker III period (Figure 73). It is possible that there was a sudden flaring of trauma-related death among the Anasazi at that time, but it seems more likely that data are missing from the Basketmaker II period

.

If the data are divided along the boundaries of ancient subcultures within the Anasazi area, the majority (39 percent) of cases of trauma through time occurs in the Mesa Verde area, followed by the Kayenta area at nearly 31 percent. These percentages are well beyond the next greatest area (Gallina) at 11 percent, the Chaco/Chuska area at 10 percent, and the Upper San Juan area at 7 percent.

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Chapter 5: Results

Figure 73. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Basketmaker III.

Figure 74. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Pueblo I.

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power and Symbolism

Figure 75. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Pueblo II. As discussed in the DB1 analysis and in regard to burials in structures in the DB2 analysis, there is a correlation between the trauma-death sites and an increase in site burning at abandonment. Certainly the majority of Basketmaker III and Pueblo I sites studied for this project were burned at the time of abandonment. Abandonment also coincided with the trauma death, in that sites tend to have been abandoned immediately following the TD events.

The spatial distribution of sites in the Basketmaker III period indicates that all trauma-related death found within the Anasazi culture area at that time was located in the central portion of the culture area with a clustering of sites in what is now southeastern Utah. Regarding the Basketmaker periods, it may be then summarized that even though there are few TD-related sites, there are a high number of TD bodies. Indeed, multiple burials in single pits and pit structures appear to be relatively common in these early Anasazi periods, suggesting that when violent activity occurred, numerous individuals were killed in single events.

There is another jump in the number of trauma-related site locations between Pueblo I and Pueblo II. Current evidence indicates that there were 29 sites with evidence of trauma death (266 bodies). Additionally, as will be seen in Figure 75, these sites were no longer contained in the central portion of the Anasazi culture area. A definite southward spread of trauma-related sites is evident. There is also evidence in the distribution pattern that these sites were almost all contained within the eastern portion of the Anasazi culture area. Furthermore, there are distinct cluster groups of trauma-related sites. These are most evident in the area currently known as southwestern Colorado (Mesa Verde Anasazi), the Navajo Reservoir District in northwestern New Mexico (Upper San Juan Anasazi), the Gallina area of northwestern New Mexico (Gallina Anasazi), and Chaco Canyon, northwestern New Mexico (Chaco Anasazi), and Kayenta in southeastern Utah (Kayenta Anasazi). These clusters are important because they indicate that no single group of Anasazi was free of trauma-related death. The vast majority of trauma-related death in this period occurred circa A.D. 1150, the end of Pueblo II.

The number of trauma-related sites is similar to Basketmaker III in the Pueblo I period (n = 19) but there is a dramatic shift in the pattern of distribution spatially and the number of bodies present (n = 104). Figure 74 clearly shows that the vast majority of trauma-death site locations are in the northern half of the culture area, with a distinct clustering in what is today southwestern Colorado. This portion of the Anasazi culture area saw the development of large villages, especially late in the period, and the clustering of large populations into small environmental niches (Kane 1984; Wilshusen 1991). According to Keeley (1996:28), where geographic areas retain large numbers of people, conflict is nearly inevitable, and this may be the case with the Pueblo I villages of southwestern Colorado and northwestern New Mexico. With the establishment of large villages, there is also a concomitant increase in the number of site locations that were burned between the Basketmaker III and Pueblo I periods (Cater 1989; LeBlanc 1999; Wilshusen 1986; Frank Eddy, personal communication 2004).

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Figure 76. Distribution of trauma-death sites, Pueblo III. As discussed earlier, this is the period of time in which some investigators see the rise of an integrated regional system centered in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico (see, for example, Cordell 1984, 1997; LeBlanc 1999; Lekson 1999; Turner and Turner 1999). In this scenario, as the Chacoan subculture grew in complexity, it also spread out across the landscape enforcing its rule in a Pax Chaco, as described by Lekson (1999:62–64) and LeBlanc (1999:154). The concept is utilized by Turner and Turner (1999:459–484) as part of an explanatory model for their discussion of disarticulated remains. If this supposition were true, then it is likely that the archaeological record of TD death would reflect this. The spread of TD violence, including an increase in the number of disarticulation cases, should move from the Chaco center outward in time and space toward the boundaries of the subculture area. The data in this study appear to contradict the Pax Chaco concept. Rather than spreading outward from the Chacoan center, TD-death-related cases appear to have spread southwestward from the Mesa Verde subculture region in southwestern Colorado. Indeed, these data suggest that perhaps the development of Chacoan sites outside of Chaco Canyon may have been in part a reaction to the spread of TD occurrences across the region. This may find some support in the fact that the vast majority of Chacoanstyle pueblos are clearly defensive in construction (LeBlanc 1999:158–162). Another possible explanatory model lies in the concept that Chaco was not an integrated system, but one in which each Great House was in direct competition with those surrounding it (Kantner 2001; Neitzel 1999:194– 197; Sebastian 1992; Wilcox 1999; David Wilcox, personal communication 2001). As the number of competing Great House localities grew, competition over resources would

also have become important. This could then have led to a spread in TD-related death during the Pueblo II period. Regardless of the potential causes, TD reaches a peak at the end of the Pueblo II period, and the early years of Pueblo III retain less evidence of TD, as discussed earlier. The end of the Anasazi occupation of the region has been described as bloody (LeBlanc 1999) and as might be expected, this is reflected in the spatial distribution of sites. Very little of the Anasazi culture area was untouched by trauma-related death in the period between A.D. 1200 and A.D. 1300 (Figure 76). In this study, 38 sites with a total of 541 bodies represent the period. It appears to be an escalation of trauma death from the preceding Pueblo II period that spread across the entire Anasazi culture area. That it is concurrent with regional abandonment, and changes in the culture at the end of the period is not at all surprising. Based on the data available, all of the subcultures of the Anasazi extant during the Pueblo III were involved in various levels of TD-related death. These areas include the Kayenta, Mesa Verde, and to a limited extent the Mesa Verde– Chacoans. This suggests, perhaps, that the violent activity defined by subcultural boundaries in the preceding periods was breached and became a pan-Anasazi phenomenon. This would suggest, then, that TD-related death may have transcended cultural differences and that its cause was something different, something that affected all Anasazi equally. It is likely that this cause involved overpopulation at a time when there was a long-term shift in the environment that depleted resources and affected the efficient production of agricultural products.

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Figure 77. Fortified site on isolated mesa (Hoot Owl Arroyo Pueblo, site 54-1). (Photo by the author)

By the early 1300s, almost the entire population of the Colorado Plateau was living in about 120 large, compact, defensive pueblos, clustered into about twenty-seven distinct settlement groups. And similar, although less clear, settlement seems to have taken place off the Plateau as well. There is further ample evidence for Late Period warfare from the incidences of burning and unburied bodies. Also a significant number of massacres are recognizable. In addition, prehistoric art reflects an increase in conflict [LeBlanc 1999:198]. Whether or not all of the TD in the current study reflect the outcome of warfare, or are the result of other forms of violent activity, there is no doubt that TD death reached its greatest peak among the Anasazi at this time. Large fortified villages all appear to have evidence of some type of conflict at the end of their occupation, including TD bodies, burned roofs, and possibly breached defensive walls. Regardless of cause, the increase of TD in this period coincides with the eventual abandonment of the culture area and the end of the Anasazi as we now know them.

What Happened to the Anasazi: The Pueblo IV Period For the purposes of this study the Anasazi ceased to exist as a coherent archaeological entity upon the abandonment of their homeland. As people from the various Anasazi subcultures moved southward they combined with each other, forming alliances that shaped cultural changes still prevalent in Puebloan culture today (Figure 77). Extremely large towns were constructed and new forms of pottery and iconography were developed. This period, between A.D. 1350 and A.D. 1540 (the time of European contact) is known as the Pueblo IV period (Cordell 1984:328–361, 1997:399–441). It is marked by changes in site layout, religion, and socioeconomic organization. According to LeBlanc (1999) it is also marked by large-scale warfare that continued from the preceding Anasazi period. Certainly the early ethnographies of the Spanish bear this out, as they often refer to conflict between the Puebloan people of the time (for a salient discussion see LeBlanc 1999:197–320). Returning to the ethnographic and mythological examples presented in Chapter 1, it is clear that TD-related death continued from the prehistoric period to well past Spanish contact and eventual subjugation of the Puebloan people

.

Perhaps the best summary of life during this period, as we know it currently, comes from LeBlanc, who states:

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Chapter 6 Interpretations and Conclusions

Chapter 6 Interpretations and Conclusions Who are these countless unnamed dead? Let us open their eyes that we may see what they saw, that we may know and honor their death —John Cater, 2009 This book began with the statement that “perhaps nothing in the human experience is as simultaneously attractive and repulsive as violence.” Violence is one of the facts of human existence and as a human trait it belongs in the suite of activities that should be studied by anthropologists and archaeologists. Despite the current political atmosphere in the United States, prehistoric violence is part of the record and deserves our attention. Violence, modern and prehistoric, is universal. No society on earth is untouched by one form of violence or another (Abbink 2000a, 2000b; Keeley 1996). Violence is never random, but it may be the “unintended outcome of intended interactions” (Blok 2001:1, 23–34; Schröder and Schmidt 2001:9). This study has held the assumption that prehistoric violence among the Anasazi people of the American Southwest was not random and that patterning in violent activity is preserved in the archaeological record. This premise helps form the research questions in Chapter 1. Answering the Research Questions Each of the variables studied for this book has been outlined and discussed in terms of its importance from simple observation through statistical analysis. It was seen that each variable had a part to play in the formation of the population clusters identified as TD and NTA. The clustering of the population is at the core of the central research question. The answer to the primary research question then is that: There are patterns in Anasazi violence, general and specific, distributed spatially and temporally as elucidated through the skeletal population in association with the context in which they are found. What Are the Patterns? The subordinate questions are the framework in which the patterns in Anasazi violence become evident. Each question is discussed in terms of its contribution to the overall patterning. What is the relationship of the study (trauma death) and control (non-trauma death) skeletal populations to the sites in which they are found? This includes the variables of grave type, and grave location within the site.

The TD population is overwhelmingly encountered within pit structures and surface rooms at the center of the sites in the study. This is in direct opposition to the NTA population, which is most strongly associated with midden areas in the southern periphery of the analyzed sites. What is the relationship between the study (trauma death) and control (non-trauma death) cases with regard to grave goods? This includes the variable of presence/absence of grave goods. As was evident in the inferential database (DB1) and supported statistically (DB2), grave goods also represent distinct patterning among the TD. Specifically, the TD population is characterized by the absence of associated grave goods. The NTA population is on the other end of the spectrum in that they are almost always found with grave goods in association. What are the relative ages of the study (trauma death) and control (non-trauma death) populations at death (child, adolescent, adult)? This addresses the variable of age. Age is not a strong indicator of patterning in the study population but some information is relevant. It appears that there was little discrimination in the TD population. Children as well as adults are present. Adolescents were underrepresented in the study population, and many adults died traumatically. There were more adolescents over the age of 15 than under in the TD population, and the adult population was most strongly represented by the 30 to 40year age group. What position were the study (trauma death) and control (non-trauma death) bodies in at the time of burial? This addresses the variable of body position. Body position is another strong indicator of patterning among the TD population. Most often the TD population was dismembered after death, or recovered in an articulated but sprawled position. The NTA population was most frequently encountered in a flexed position. Taken in combination, the variables in the study present a contextual pattern for the traumatically killed. This population generally will have skeletal evidence of traumatic injury at death, or they will be dismembered after death. The TD will usually be interred with no grave goods. These individuals will more often be found on the floor of structures at the center of sites than in any other part of an archaeological site. More often than not the roof of the structure in which they are found will have been burned or purposely collapsed at or immediately after the trauma event. The pattern evident in this study is singular and appears to crosscut temporal and spatial distribution. This pattern was developed in the early Anasazi occupation of the region and continued, unchanged, to the final abandonment

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of violence, Pit structures, Power and Symbolism of the region. So similar are the cases through time that one might be led into the belief that this was a standard practice or tradition among the Anasazi. Increases in TD cases within the study population occur at the end of each Anasazi cultural period, suggesting that change was often turbulent. Summary of Interpretations The research has directly answered the primary and subordinate questions with surprising results. It is most striking that the two populations are often polar opposites. Ultimately these opposites support the argument that there are indeed contextual differences between the trauma-death and non-trauma-death populations in this study. Also supported is the argument that there is cultural meaning behind the differences in these populations because if there were no cultural meaning, then there would be no significant difference between the NTA and TD groups. Just what those cultural meanings are will always be in question, but several suggested lines of inquiry may be made. Additional study of the ethnographic record is essential, as the preservation of such memory regarding attitudes and causes of violence may well be present among modern Puebloans. If Native Americans are ever willing to openly discuss ancestral violence, we may learn why the traumatically killed were either placed or left in pit structures in the center of sites, while those who died nontraumatically were carefully buried in the midden areas on the periphery of the site. The pit structure (and later the kiva) can arguably be described as the most sacred structure the Anasazi built. It was at once home and church/sacred place (Cater and Chenault 1988; Lekson 1989). Why then was it important that the TD population be entombed in these structures above all others? This question will be addressed more fully in the next section. Another important aspect of this study is how the body was treated after death. The majority of the TD population within pit structures was disarticulated after death. It seems likely that these groups were first killed, then they were dismembered and the roof of the structure was collapsed or burned to seal the bodies in the structure. This then brings into focus another line of inquiry that needs investigation. Why are the majority of TD disarticulated? Why are there some who were not? Although sex was not significant in DB2, DB1 suggests that among the TD population there is a slight bias toward males. This should not be surprising given published data on violence (Carman and Harding 1999; Keeley 1996; Osgood et al. 2000). There appears to be some discrimination in the TD population in that females between the ages of 15 and 25 are scant in the current study population. This lack of females of breeding age is also not surprising, and has been discussed at length by LeBlanc (1999). The lack of 15–20 year olds tends to be masked in the databases by the presence of females over the age of 25 in nearly equal numbers as males. If there is a gap in the 15–20-year-old population, then the next question to be asked is why? This appears to be a wider phenomenon (Keeley 1996) and is

probably best explained as “to the winner goes the spoils” including females of breeding age. One example according to Keeley (1996:85) is “The Nuer of Sudan adopted boys captured from their enemies (the Dinka), and women of marriageable age and girls were incorporated less formally. On the other hand, old women and babies captured in Nuer raids were clubbed to death and their bodies burned with the Dinka Huts.” Although this scenario certainly appears also to fit the Anasazi data in this study, the explanation may be too simple. This line of questioning should continue in future research. A final line of suggested research lies in the presence and absence of burial goods. This factor is so prominent in the data that it would be enough to identify the two populations on its own. It is crucial to try and understand why this is such a broad dividing line. It may be that we as archaeological observers have missed important data in terms of identifying grave goods associated with the TD population. Are the artifacts found on pit structure floors truly de facto refuse, the artifacts associated with daily life in the structure, or do they represent something else? It may be that our concepts of “grave goods” are completely incorrect in terms of bodies with evidence of trauma. Looking Beyond Patterns: Tying the Data to the Anthropology of Violence If we are to study violence, and its social effect and meaning, it is first necessary to “suspend moral and legal judgments while describing the empirical diversity of its manifestations” (Abbink 2000a:xii). This book has sought to do this by studying the evidence regarding TD violent activity through database analysis. DB1 sought to capture all of the diverse manifestations of Anasazi violence and DB2 quantified the most salient of those manifestations. In this section, potential cause and meaning of the observed violent activities in this study will be explored. Who are These Dead?: The Anthropology of Violence, Pit Structures, Power, and Symbolism This study has shown that the TD population may be found in a specific context in the archaeological record and that this context represents patterns in violent activity. According to Abbink (2000a:xii) “violence is contingent and context-dependent, and thus not a straight forward urge in all humans waiting to come out.” In other words, violence is not random. If this is the case, then violence has purpose and meaning. Meaning occurs, of course, on many levels. For instance, the destruction of an entire village may be distinctly different from the killing and dismemberment of multiple individuals, or from the killing of a few individuals who are then sealed in a pit structure as their tomb. Regardless of the specific meanings, all of the cases in this study appear to represent power. The power of one group over another in the ultimate game of life and death, the power to make the gods happy through the destruction of scapegoats, and the power to make an example out of one group for all to

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Chapter 6 Interpretations and Conclusions see may be represented (Abbink 2000b; Blok 2001; Bouroncle 2000; Bowman 2001; Gerard 1977; Martin 2000; Schwander-Sievers 2001). Power and symbology are never the only causal factors in violent activity because often there are underlying goals as well. Goals such as driving one group from its territory, gaining access to limited resources, and the expansion of the gene pool may all be cited. If we look at the TD study population, we see two distinct groups: traumatically killed but articulated, and traumatically killed and disarticulated. In the former, the majority appear to fall into the 30 to 40-year-old age group. In the latter there is no discrimination regarding age of inclusion. These two groups may appear to represent very different actions and very different goals among the Anasazi, but as will be discussed, the ultimate goal and meaning may be the same. What, then, do these forms of violence represent? In the cases of traumatic death in which bodies are left intact, it seems possible that this represents raids on the village. These raids, like those reported elsewhere (Keeley 1996; Zimmerman 1997) may have had multiple motives. Access to stored food within the village, war trophies, and captives may have been the material goals of such raids (Keeley 1996; LeBlanc 1999). A perplexing question remains regarding the trauma-articulated cases in the study population, however, and leads to the second potential motive. Other than the material spoils, what could possibly be gained by attacking a village filled with middle to advanced aged adults? Worldwide, it seems, traumatic death targets were the young adults, rather than the elderly (Keeley 1996). It may be that the ethnographic record of the modern Puebloan people can add some insight to this question. In the majority of the Pueblos studied ethnographically, the adolescent population is inducted into secret societies, and even though they assume these lifelong roles in adolescence, they remain students throughout much of their lives. These individuals are not considered adult, until a much later time when they can hold office or when sacred knowledge can be imparted (Lange 1959). For example, Adolph Bandalier who was at Cochiti Pueblo in the 1880s asked his informants “when does a boy become a man and when does a girl become a woman?” to which the informants all answered “for males, the shift generally appears to occur at about thirty years of age—when they get to be officers. For women, the change occurs at about thirty to thirty-five” (Lange 1959). If this same situation held true in the past, then the second goal and perhaps the ultimate meaning of attacks on older individuals may have been the destruction of esoteric, sacred knowledge. By removing the elders who knew how and when ceremonies were to take place and the ultimate reason for those ceremonies, the younger population of the village would have only what little knowledge their station in life had afforded them. The inability to conduct the daily ritual life necessary to the functioning of the village would likely

have been devastating, leading to the abandonment of the village immediately following the death event. By killing sacred knowledge, the village essentially would die and the surviving inhabitants would seek asylum in neighboring villages. The trauma-disarticulated population appears to follow a different trajectory of goal and meaning. Rarely are there single individuals present in these skeletal inventories, and it appears that there is no discrimination regarding age or sex in the assemblages. Other researchers (Darling 1995; Turner and Turner 1999) have addressed the disarticulation of the body in two different ways. Darling identifies these individuals as the physical remains of people executed as witches. He ties the prehistoric evidence to the ethnographic record regarding the universal fear of witches among the modern Pueblos. Turner and Turner argue that the dismembered bodies represent physical evidence of cannibalism. They argue that the cannibalism was the result of social control associated with the rise of the Chaco Phenomenon. Arguments for and against witch execution and anthropophagy continue to rage (Bullock 1998; Darling 1995; LeBlanc 1999; Turner and Turner 1999). Perhaps proving one theory over another is not as important as trying to understand the social and religious mechanisms that allowed for the traumatic death and subsequent dismemberment of large groups of individuals in a single event, although these may have different meaning and social context. These events have produced the greatest number of bodies in this study, but it must be remembered that such events are not common and are spread across the entire Anasazi culture area through time. This alone indicates that there was a pan-Anasazi social structure that allowed for these types of events to occur, and that this mechanism was developed early in the Anasazi occupation of the region. The earliest known disarticulation site dates between A.D. 500 and A.D. 700 and was encountered in the Upper San Juan subculture area in 1994 by the author (Cater 1995). Interestingly, the trauma-disarticulated sites appear in areas where trauma-articulated sites have been encountered, but also appear in isolated portions of the Anasazi world. Additionally, the disarticulated site loci all have about them a sameness regarding the location of bone across structure floors, the level of dismemberment and lack of grave goods. These observations suggest that there was a prescribed way in which the Anasazi killed, dismembered, and carefully deposited groups of people. Turner and Turner (1999) have suggested that disarticulation is associated with the rise of the Chacoan Anasazi as an enforced socioreligious phenomenon, with enforcement coming from organized “killer cannibal” squads (Turner and Turner 1999:478–479), with disarticulated individuals being held up as examples of what would happen if the Chacoan rules were not followed. Two discoveries within the current study would suggest otherwise. First, the widespread nature of the disarticulation sites suggests that these events were more likely the result of local activity rather 103

Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of violence, Pit structures, Power and Symbolism than an organized enforcement from an outside group. Secondly, and more importantly, this study has shown that disarticulation events began early in the Anasazi cultural development, long before the rise of the Chacoan center. Six sites were encountered in the research for the current study that predate the main Chacoan occupation and none of these sites is located in Chaco Canyon proper, or near any of the Chacoan outlier sites. Darling’s seminal work contradicts the Turner theory, arguing not for cannibalism, but the execution of groups of people accused of witchcraft (Darling 1995). Darling’s approach has merit. He sought confirmation through an extensive study of the ethnographic record, discovering not only a universal fear of witches in the modern Pueblos, but documented cases of witch execution and dismemberment. In this view, the historic record can be extended into the archaeological past, where individuals accused of witchcraft were publicly executed and then taken to a pit structure and dismembered in search of the “bad heart.” Not only could one person be accused of being a witch, but entire families could fall under suspicion (Darling 1995). Whether one ascribes to either theory, it is evident that these cases strongly suggest a form of mass murder, either of a local population or a group of interlopers, as is the case at Cowboy Wash. The Cowboy Wash site (5MT10010) in southwestern Colorado provides the only good example of a group of people being in the wrong place at the wrong time (Billman et al. 2000). The site represents a group of Chuskan Anasazi (closely tied to the Chacoan Anasazi) who had taken up residence in the territory of the Mesa Verde Anasazi. Their presence was apparently tolerated for some time, based on the occupation date range of the site, but at around A.D. 1150 the village was attacked and seven adults and children were killed and disarticulated. The site was abandoned following the attack, suggesting that this skeletal population represented the entire village group, or that some of the group was away from the village at the time of the attack and never returned to the site. But Cowboy Wash is unique. In the majority of the traumadisarticulated cases there is no indication of differences between victim and perpetrator in the material remains from the sites studied. For instance, there was no difference in projectile point styles. Additionally, disarticulation events crosscut the temporal and spatial distribution of the entire Anasazi culture area. This suggests that there may have been something similar in all of the victim groups that also crosscut subcultural boundaries. What that similarity was is unclear, but it was seen as a large enough threat among the Anasazi population that it required the killing and dismemberment of large numbers of people. Some of the more salient features of the trauma-disarticulation cases may aid in addressing the meaning of these deaths. It will be remembered that these individuals are often recovered from pithouse structures, sealed by the purposeful collapse or burning of the roof. This suggests that the dismemberment of individuals was done away from the public eye and the sealing of the deposit was meant to

keep the remains hidden from view. The number of very small bone fragments recovered from the pit structure contexts indicates that these are primary deposits and that the disarticulation did indeed take place in the structure. This contradicts Turner and Turner’s (1999) argument that these cases represent acts of terrorism by outside groups as a means of maintaining social control because the society at large would not have seen the actual act of dismemberment. Additionally, according to Blok (2001:110) “terrorism and ritual sacrifices share a fundamental feature: the victim (who encapsulates and embodies the aim and meaning of the action) has to be innocent. The innocence of the victims is implied in the randomness of the terrorist attacks.” This study has shown that there is structure and patterning within the TD population, including the trauma-disarticulated group. The attacks were not random through time or space. Indeed, the data presented in this study suggest that the TD events were carried out methodically and always in a prescribed manner. What, then, do the disarticulation cases represent? Unlike the cases where individuals died traumatically but were left articulated, more people were generally killed in a single event than in several trauma-articulated cases added together. Trauma-articulated and trauma-disarticulated cases coexist in time and space. Despite these differences, it is possible that these two modes of Anasazi trauma-related death may have had the same goal: the destruction of esoteric knowledge. In the case of the trauma-articulated population this would have been achieved by the killing of key individuals who held that knowledge. In the case of the trauma-disarticulated population it involved killing the entire population associated with that knowledge. It is the difference in approach that is most telling; in the latter instance, the entire population (or in a few cases one or a few individuals) was perceived as such a threat that the violent dismembering of the bodies was the only way to dispel the threat. In the former case, the killing of the individual or individuals eradicated the threat with no further treatment necessary. In all cases, the individuals were generally killed in or placed in the most sacred structure within the village and the structure was then destroyed, thus terminating the TD event. In this light, then, it may be suggested that whether the victims were attacked as witches (Darling 1995) or were the end result of a “killer cannibal cult” (Turner and Turner 1999:478–481) may not matter. In each of these scenarios the victims were likely scapegoats, potentially dehumanized through accusations of witchcraft, and killed for their sacred knowledge (Gerard 1977). Meaning and goal are complicated and likely exist at many different levels. There are commonalties, however, that may allow a glimpse of cause and goal in prehistory. First, it is a relative certainty that the violence noted in the archaeological record of the Anasazi was entirely internal, both within settlement groups and between settlement groups. There is as yet no evidence, artifactual or

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Chapter 6 Interpretations and Conclusions otherwise, of non-Anasazi perpetrators or victims. Projectile points and other potential weaponry all fall within the suite of the Anasazi tool kit. Thus, meaning and goal are all internal, part of the internal structure of the Anasazi culture. The TD cases are methodical. They represent specific patterns regarding the victim, the place, and the time. It could be argued that there are only so many ways to dispatch a victim or victims and this is limited to the technology at hand. Although there is some truth to this argument, it is the context in which the bodies are found that is telling. These individuals are almost exclusively buried in the same types of structures in the same site locations with the same lack of grave goods across the region and through time. This cannot be relegated to chance (as shown in the DB2 analysis), nor is it limited to technology. In a very real sense, then, Anasazi violence had meaning and that meaning was expressed symbolically, as shown in the TD analysis. One important part of the symbolism of violence is the use of the pit structure (and kiva) as a tomb. The pit structure/kiva was perhaps the most important and sacred structure associated with the daily lives of the Anasazi. It was the holiest of the holy, tying all the directions of the pueblo world together at a center point. The question that must be addressed in terms of the pit structure/kiva as tomb is whether this is a symbol of reverence or a symbol of desecration. The evidence is inconclusive, but it seems likely that the latter of the possibilities is the case. By soiling the sacred place with the blood of the victims, then sealing them within the structure it would appear that the central point of Anasazi life was being desecrated. A further insult to the survivors, if there were any, was that the bodies of the dead could not be seen or recovered. Anton Blok discusses this concept in the modern world of the Mafia in Sicily (Blok 2001:108). In terms of Mafia killings, there is a special form in which the victim is killed and no trace of him/her is left behind (Lupara bianca). According to Blok (2001:108), “This more recent and rather unceremonious form of liquidation still permits mourning but excludes funeral rites and, therefore, underscores desecration and humiliation.” Thus, survivors would likely know that the victims were in the pit structure, under a ton or more of collapsed or burned roof fall, and could do nothing about it. That the site was usually completely abandoned following the TD event, suggests that either everyone was killed or the survivors were forced to move on. This displacement of population seems more in line with a desecration of the sacred than the honoring of the dead. What can be said about catalyst, cause, and effect of Anasazi violence? It seems possible that the catalyst was what Freud (1990[1939]; 1991a[1917]; 1991b[1921]; 1991c[1930]) termed “the narcissism of minor differences.” And as applied by Blok, who succinctly points out that: We often attribute conflict between individuals or groups to growing contrasts between them. The larger the (economic, social, cultural) differences,

the greater the chance of violent confrontations. But an outline of a general theory of power and violence cannot ignore the fact that the fiercest struggles often take place between individuals, groups and communities that differ but very littleor between which the differences have greatly diminished [Blok 2001:115]. This concept is also supported by the findings of Keeley (1996) in worldwide cases of “pre-civilized” warfare. Given the data regarding who the perpetrators and victims were in the current study population, it seems likely that the violent activities among the Anasazi were caused in large part by the narcissism of minor differences. This would go far in explaining the peaks and valleys in violent activity temporally. It should be recalled that the TD peaks all appear to occur at the end of cultural developmental periods among the Anasazi. There are minor differences expressed in the archaeological record of the Anasazi. It may be seen in such things as: round and square pithouses; the number of roof supports within a pit structure; and the types of floor features within structures. All of these differences have meaning, even in modern Puebloan mythology. The layout of surface rooms, though similar, differs slightly from site to site. Iconography differs in pottery and rock art from subculture to subculture, as does site function. According to Vern Hensler (personal communication 2004), round and rectangular or square pithouses may represent differences between the ideals of the eastern and western Anasazi groups. With regard to these structures and the TD population, it is important to note that following the rise in TD incidents at the end of Pueblo I (A.D. 850–900), round pit structures replace square pit structures entirely in the eastern Anasazi world and square pit structures also become rare in the western Anasazi region. This suggests that there was a change in socioreligious attitude toward pit structure shape, and that the change was not always peaceful. If the differences in religious structure and social organization (as reasonably inferred by changes in the archaeology) drove Anasazi violence, at least in part, and if scapegoating was used as a means of supporting some violent acts, then the question is raised as to why differences were tolerated during certain periods but not others. This question cannot be readily answered with the data at hand. Environmental triggers may have been partly involved at certain times but this alone cannot be the reason for all Anasazi TD events. The stamping out of certain belief systems may have also been a trigger. The near extinction of the square pithouse by Pueblo II, the targeting of elders in given communities and the extinction, in some cases, of entire village populations circumstantially point to factionalism, intolerance, and the control of sacred knowledge. Factionalism is extant even in the modern Pueblos, as reported in the ethnography (see, for example, Dutton 1963; Lange 1959; Parsons 1974; Simmons 1979). Indeed, the unprecedented unity shown by the Pueblos in the A.D.

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of violence, Pit structures, Power and Symbolism 1680 Spanish Revolt almost immediately collapsed afterward as Pueblo groups split into warring factions (Simmons 1979:186). As discussed earlier, the destruction of Awotovi Pueblo in A.D. 1700 is another graphic example of Puebloan factionalism. A particularly germane note by Dutton quotes Spanish Padre Benavides (A.D. 1598) who wrote about the factionalism between two of the Puebloan secret societies: the Rain Priests and the Warrior Society. Benavides states: the warriors attempted to reduce all the people to their dominion and authority and the sorcerers (Rain Priests) by emulation and argument, persuaded them all that they were the ones who made the rain fall and the earth yield good crops, that they formed the clouds in the heavens…and such other things, at which the warriors jeered greatly. This gave rise to civil wars among them [Dutton 1963:204]. So evident is the factionalism among the Pueblos that it led Simmons (1979:218) to state that “historical evidence reveals that divisive particularism was endemic among the Pueblos throughout Spanish colonial times and, by inference, was equally prevalent in the precontact period.” Simmons goes on to state that the traditional means of dealing with deviant individuals or groups was through threat or actual force to compel conformity. Additionally, Simmons (1979:218) states that factionalism led to some pueblos splitting apart with one faction moving out and founding a new pueblo nearby or seeking asylum in other communities. One of Lange’s (1959:194) informants succinctly summed up factionalism by saying “anyone who thinks that everything in an Indian Pueblo is all calm and cooperation, just simply doesn’t know anything about Pueblo politics.” Of course, one must use caution when looking at ethnographic data and attempting to draw corollaries in prehistory, but circumstantially the data in this study suggest factionalism as one possibility for violent activities among the Anasazi. There is an important tie between the TD population in this study and modern Puebloan factionalism. Regardless of which Pueblo ethnography one looks to, the universal reason given for the factionalism is differences between “conservatives” and “progressives” in the community (see, for example, Arnon and Hill 1979:302; Bodine 1979:262; Dockstader 1979:526–529; Edelman 1979:308; Eggan 1979:230–231; Eggan and Pandey 1979:478; Ellis 1979a:362–364, 1979b:446–448; Lange 1959; Simmons 1979). Again, the greatest increases in TD events occur at the end of most cultural developmental periods in the study population. It may not be difficult to imagine that the trigger was factionalism between conservative and progressive groups. Changes in iconography, structure form, and even site function must have been difficult to accept by some groups in the Anasazi population.

Direction of Future Research Through the course of this book I have mentioned certain topics that should be explored more fully in future research, as more information becomes available. Before expanding on these themes, it is important to discuss the data and the means of collecting it. Certainly, data recovery has come a long way since the first archaeological investigations in the American Southwest were undertaken. Yet too often, due to budget or time constraint, archaeologists in the field are pushed to remove the material remains of an archaeological site as quickly as possible. Additionally, and of importance to this study, human remains are too often not excavated when they are encountered, due to NAGPRA restriction. If we are to continue to pursue the analysis of violence in the archaeological record, then precautions must be taken in the field. All human remains should be treated as potential victims of violence from the moment they are encountered. The context they are recovered from should be carefully documented from soil chemistry to artifact placement. Osteological analyses must follow rigorous guidelines that may aid in identifying perimortem trauma. The computer term GIGO (garbage in, garbage out) can be equally applied to the collection and analysis of archaeological data. The more detailed the record is, the clearer the interpretations will be. No detail should be left out because it is considered unimportant to the excavation or recovery of the material remains. This is difficult to do when the archaeological deposit has been accidentally opened by a backhoe and the construction company is applying pressure to get their job done, yet it is not impossible to collect good information even in these situations. When human remains are encountered, the entire area should be treated like modern crime scenes are treated, and the process of careful documentation should occur within these boundaries. There are several themes that could not be addressed by the current study due to the lack of available data. These themes are associated with both skeletal analyses and site contexts. In the future, there should be an attempt to link violence with other pathological markers like disease, genetic disorders, and environmental stress. It may prove to be an important connection if those who died violently were also those who were ill or disabled in some way. Bioarchaeological studies are making progress in this direction and the methods used should be applied to the Southwest (Larsen 1997). Additionally, more data need to be collected that specifically address age, sex, and temporal changes in violence toward groups of specific age or sex. Although there are specific problems with identification of sex in various archaeological contexts, and in certain age groups, temporal change in who the victim of violence was is extremely important to understanding prehistoric social significance in violent acts. Studies regarding females and trauma are increasingly important to our understanding of prehistoric lifeways. With a few exceptions (Akins 1995; Martin 1997; Novak 1999) the study of women is still in its infancy. Females as

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Chapter 6 Interpretations and Conclusions active participants as well as victims should be explored more closely especially in areas where females died traumatically or where there is a lack of females in the general population. Specific areas on the body where trauma is located are important to understanding the process of violence and potentially identifying the type of violence involved. There have been great advances regarding this in the last 20 years but the database is still very small. Moving beyond the skeletal remains, additional research into site defenses and defense networks as one aspect of inquiry should continue. Recent work (LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001) has taken this step on a regional scale and Kuckleman’s (2002) work in the Mesa Verde area highlights defense on a subregional scale. The problems with this avenue of study involve identifying defense as opposed to social, religious, or economic choice or tradition. Similarly, whether a structure or an entire site was abandoned immediately following a violent event is important to our understanding of how prehistoric socioreligious systems may have worked, and how population movement across the landscape could have been affected by violence. Concluding Statement What were the root causes of trauma-related death among the Anasazi? Were they warfare, religious sacrifice, resource procurement, territorial dispute, or jealous rage? The answer is, of course, “yes” to all of the above along with many more reasons. The root causes of violent activity that affect humans worldwide today are the same as those in the past. In the preface to Meanings of Violence A Cross Cultural Perspective, Jon Abbink sums up violence in this way: Violence is a human universal: in no known human society or social formation is interpersonal aggression, physical threat, assault, or homicide and armed conflict completely absent or successfully banned. This may be a trivial observation. But while phenomena of violence are pervasive in human society and are easily evoked in full dramatic force, the issue of how to explain what violence ‘is’ or does, remains one of the most thorny and challenging ones [Abbink 2000a:xi]. This is doubly true of explaining what violence was or did in the prehistoric past. Archaeological identification of social beliefs, drives, and impacts is difficult when dealing with a few bones and stones buried in the ground for a thousand years. Is it enough to simply identify the remains of a violent event among the extinct cultures of prehistory? Can we as researchers be satisfied by saying the hole in this skull could have only been caused by another human being and therefore there was violence among these people? This study suggests that we can go beyond that and begin to model how violence played a part in the daily lives of the cultures we study. By looking at patterns of violent activ-

ity, it seems possible to get closer to an understanding of this very human activity, even though we cannot directly observe the action. This study has shown that there are indeed patterns in Anasazi violent activity in deposition of victims of violence and it is in the acknowledgement of these patterns that we can begin to address the meanings and cultural complexity that violence created in the daily lives of this people. According to Abbink (2000b:77) “Violent action is a social behavior and can be more fully understood in a theoretical perspective which sees humans as social animals with a capacity for symbol manipulation and social construction of ‘meaning’.” In this light, then, the location of TD individuals in certain locations within a site, the presence or absence of grave goods, even the age and sex of the individuals present all had meaning and were symbols to the Anasazi. Thus, the concept that the killing and disarticulation of 13 individuals may find symbolic voice as the representation of power held by one group of Anasazi over others. The lack of grave goods with an individual who died of wounds to the head in a pit structure may be symbolic of the lack of respect accorded an enemy. As anthropologists, we want the answers to these patterns and as archaeologists, we must understand that we will never have those answers with certainty. Was violent activity rampant among the Anasazi? This is an important question and tends to get lost in studies such as this. The answer at this point in time is unknown. This study generated 803 bodies that had evidence of humaninduced trauma. There likely are many more that were not identified in the literature, but on the whole this study has shown that there frequently was violence over the entire period of Anasazi occupation, and when there was not actual violence, there was a fear of violence in an unstable socioeconomic setting. When violence did occur, it did so in ways that could be particularly gruesome. This can be said of any culture in the world, living or extinct. This study was completed with respect to the ancestors of Native peoples and is not meant to paint these ancestors or their living decedents as “savages” or any similar racial epithet. It is hoped that in the future, as the political climate changes, similar studies may be conducted in conjunction with full participation by Native Americans, or by Native peoples as part of their discovery of archaeology and its importance to their cultural heritage. For now, emerging patterns in violence among the Anasazi will allow archaeologists to observe violent activity in the archaeological record and this may lead to a better understanding of the prehistoric culture as human beings, with the full array of human traits. This book has shown that by combining osteological data and contextual information from across a range of published and unpublished sites, patterns of behavior regarding violence among the Anasazi can be more fully illuminated. Key to these findings is the identification of perimortem trauma and a strong relationship to pit structures. This is in direct opposition to nontraumatic death where there is an equally strong relationship with midden areas. The behavioral dichotomy between trauma and non-

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Who Are These Dead? The Anthropology of violence, Pit structures, Power and Symbolism trauma is also present in material remains, especially artifacts. The violently killed do not appear to be found in direct association with grave goods while the non-trauma individuals often are. Following on Turner and Turner’s (1999:404–410) discovery that there is no statistical difference between violently killed/articulated groups and groups disarticulated at or near the time of death, this study supports those findings with regard to the contextual data of both groups. In other words, disarticulated are statistically no different than the violently killed but articulated population and should be treated as such (i.e., grouped together). Age, sex, and number of individuals do differ between these groups, however. The articulated group seems to be represented largely by adults of middle and advanced age and the disarticulated group appears to include all ages and sexes.

Finally, the position of the body with regard to trauma and non-trauma was shown to be an important marker. In the non-trauma population, flexion was most common and in the trauma population some form of extension, including sprawling, was dominant. An important aspect of this study is the temporal association of violence and periods of cultural change. As discussed earlier, the increases in violent activity among the Anasazi appear to have occurred simulateneously with changes in material culture, reflecting changes in socioreligious, political, or economic changes in society. Cordell and Gummerman (2006) have identified these periods as “hinge points” and discuss the possibility that when change came it may have come rapidly. To that, I would add that it may also have been violent.

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Acknowledgements

Acknowledgements

This study should not be seen as the end of these analyses but as the beginning of discourse on the subject of patterns in Anasazi violence and should serve as a guideline for future research on the topic. It could not have been possible without the hard work of every archaeologist who has undertaken archaeological study in the Southwest. I wish to also express my gratitude to my advisors Dr. Simon James, Dr. Ian Whitbread, and Dr. Graeme Barker for their unending dedication to this study. Thanks to my

committee and the staff of the University of Leicester for their help and guidance throughout the period of my period of studies at the university. Thanks also to Dr. David Breternitz for serving as a sounding board and source of inspiration. Finally, thanks to Greg Civay for continuing to amaze me with his ArcView program skill. This study should continue to serve as a baseline for studying the dynamics of prehistoric violence that are at the forefront of academic argument today and hopefully into the future.

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