31 From the Nineteenth Century to the Twenty-First: Understanding the Bronze Age Argaric Lifecourse in the Mediterranean ‘Far West’
Abstract
The El Argar culture, spanning the years 2200–1500 Cal BC in southeastern Iberia’s Bronze Age, is one of the best-known prehistoric periods in the western Mediterranean. Ever since it was discovered at the end of the nineteenth century, continuous research has amassed enough information to provide a fairly detailed description of its main characteristics. Although from different perspectives, most traditional accounts usually have been based on macro-scalar approaches to the analysis and interpretation of its socio-economic dynamics. While the relevance of all such previous research cannot be denied or downplayed, I argue here that it is perhaps time to adopt new insights to interpret the Argaric archaeological record. In tune with this idea, recent approaches to social and personal identity, based on a reassessment of the mortuary record, are presented in this chapter. Most specifically, I focus on recent works revaluating the warlike nature of El Argar, revealing the importance of their funerary, commensality practices, as well as daily management and maintenance activities. All the examples presented here highlight the role of funerary behaviour in identity formation and the expression of social bonds and allegiances.
Introduction
In 1997, I attended the first Symposium on Mediterranean Archaeology (in Edinburgh, Scotland). Although I enjoyed the experience tremendously, I felt like a traveller from a remote land in the Far West when I saw that no one else was reading a paper on the Iberian Peninsula. Remembering a line from Mario Benedetti’s poem – ‘the south does also exist’ – I felt compelled to claim that, in the Mediterranean context, the west did also exist.
Since then, the situation has been changing gradually, and although in Anglo-American archaeology ‘Mediterranean’ still refers largely to the eastern and – to a lesser extent – central Mediterranean (Papadopoulos and Leventhal 2003; Alcock and Cherry 2004), the use of the term has now begun to encompass other zones farther west (Blake and Knapp 2005; Osborne and Cunliffe 2005; Broodbank 2009; 2013). Such is the case with the present volume on the Bronze and Iron Ages in the Mediterranean.
The editors have not only shown some daring by enlarging the geographical scope of what was formerly (and narrowly) understood as ‘Mediterranean’, they have also included and co-ordinated a multiplicity of approaches and academic traditions represented by native scholars from different Mediterranean countries. On a personal note, I must finally say that it is an honour for me to contribute to this project on a society that flourished in a corner of the western Mediterranean during the second millennium BC: the El Argar culture.
The Argaric culture spans the time period 2200–1500 Cal BC, corresponding to the Bronze Age in the southeastern areas of the Iberian Peninsula. Surrounded by the Bronce Valenciano to the northeast, Bronce de la Mancha to the north and Bronce de las Campiñas and Baja Andalucía to the west, El Argar covers more or less the extended areas of Murcia, Almería, Granada, Jaén and Alicante (Figure 31.1).
Argaric culture became known as the result of fieldwork first carried out in the area by the Siret brothers at the end of the nineteenth century. Since that time, continuous research has delineated the characteristics of Argaric culture on the basis of three main features: a specific settlement pattern, a unique burial rite and certain kinds of metal and ceramic objects. In different ways, most traditional accounts have usually approached the study of socio-economic phenomena from a macro-scalar perspective. Population and agrarian production increase, technological advances and warfare and military conquest have been the main issues studied in the dynamics of Argaric society; little attention has been paid to the materialisation of these previous trends at the level of specific human actions and experiences.
In what follows, first I briefly go over traditional accounts of Argaric culture. I then turn to more recent developments in research on the mortuary record that question long-established assumptions, examine hitherto unstudied practices and open up new avenues for interpretation and analysis. From the works arising from recent research, I review some that focus on the re-evaluation of the warlike nature of Argaric societies, then assess studies of commensality rituals in funerals and, finally, examine works dealing with daily maintenance activities.
Traditional Accounts of El Argar Culture
As already mentioned, ever since the earliest works on El Argar culture were published, this prehistoric society has been defined conventionally on the basis of a set of archaeological elements, including specific settlement patterns, particular burial rites, as well as metal and pottery wares of a certain kind. Without doubt one of the greatest merits of the Siret brothers’ seminal work was to lay the foundations for, and establish the main lines of, all subsequent research. From their 1890 book, there emerges a picture of an advanced metallurgical society with a defensive/warlike nature. The social structure comprised different classes led by a warrior elite that emerged from the need to defend metallurgical resources, most specifically silver (Siret and Siret 1890: 104, 109, 207, 324, 328, 332). All this was manifest at the archaeological level through such features as the occupation of defensible locations, the presence of intra-settlement burials and the emergence of specialised weaponry.
In those early years, tombs and some of the funerary offerings attracted most attention, probably because of the rather peculiar location of burials inside the settlements, usually within dwelling structures, in spaces meant to ‘house’ both the living and the dead. According to the Siret brothers, Argaric people felt their dead also needed protection from invaders. This represents an important change with respect to the previous period, when the dead were buried in cemeteries of collective tombs outside the settlement. Recent research has however shown that some earlier funerary sites outside settlements were also used in Argaric times (Aranda 2013).
Argaric burials consisted of single, double and, more rarely, triple and quadruple inhumations in cists, pits, urns and covachas (rock-cut tombs), with bodies usually in a flexed position. In some very exceptional cases, as many as seven skeletons have been found inside the same tomb (Rihuete et al. 2011). Bodies were often found with a series of objects that represented the funerary offering. Grave goods were different in number, variety and quality. In fact, burials range from tombs with no grave goods to graves with an important accumulation of funerary furniture.
With respect to the evaluation of funerary offerings, two common lines of research have predominated. First, the material characteristics of the objects were studied from a typological and chronological point of view, broadly developed from the end of the nineteenth century to the 1970s (Siret and Siret 1890; Cuadrado 1950; Blance 1971; Schubart 1975). Second, from the 1980s onwards, scholars have examined patterns in which such objects appear in the tombs, palaeopathologies, activity patterns and spatial relations among different burials as a base from which to infer socio-economic aspects. Following this second line, a strongly stratified society, composed of different classes, has been proposed (Gilman 1976; Lull 1983; 2000; Molina 1983; Lull and Estévez 1986; Contreras et al. 1987–88; 1995; Arteaga 1993; Contreras 2000; Cámara 2001; Chapman 2003; Aranda and Molina 2006). Some authors have even defended the idea of an early state society (Lull and Estévez 1986; Schubart and Arteaga 1986; Lull and Risch 1995; Lull 2000; Cámara 2001; Chapman 2003; Aranda and Molina 2006; Lull and Micó 2007), while others have opposed such an interpretation (Gilman 1999).
Argaric settlements also show clear signs of social differences. As a general rule, Argaric sites tend to be strategically located in mountains and hills with natural defensive features and a commanding view of the surrounding area (Figure 31.2). In addition, scholarship has pointed out that some of these sites were also fortified by the construction of diverse and complex defensive structures such as stone walls, towers, bastions, forts, and stone enclosures protecting the higher areas of the settlements, as well as those with easier access. Although not in dominant numbers, sites located in low-lying areas of no strategic, defensive concern have also been documented (Ayala 1991; Fontenla et al. 2005), which has led some to believe they might be in confederacy with the settlements on the hills (Ayala 1986: 329). In addition, there were minor sites, also on hilltops, with specialised economic activities such as metal production or cereal processing and storage (Contreras 2000; Risch 2002). Thus, differences between settlements are quite obvious, not only concerning their location, but also in terms of size, material culture and the relative weight of different production activities carried on within them. These differences have all been mobilised as evidence to suggest there was a hierarchical and territorially structured settlement pattern, wherein different sites had specialised strategic, social and/or economic functions and interdependent relationships.
Expanding the same interpretations suggested by the study of tombs, some scholars believe the sociopolitical structure of Argaric territorial organisation corresponds to a state-level society. Such a state would have emerged gradually owing to increasing social differentiation resulting from the growing importance of mining and metallurgy as compared with earlier periods (see, e.g., Lull 1983; Schubart and Arteaga 1986). At the economic level, the correlate of increasing social complexity would be the growth of cereal agriculture, mining and metallurgy. Agricultural production would be based on barley and – to a lesser degree – on legumes, complemented by livestock, mostly sheep, goat and cattle (Castro et al. 1999; Chapman 2008).
There is currently an ongoing debate regarding the economic and sociopolitical importance of mining and metallurgy (Montero and Murillo 2010; Moreno and Contreras 2010). Some scholars downplay the major role traditionally attributed to metalworking within the Argaric economy (Gilman 1976; Montero 1993; 1994). The fact that different settlements exploited different mineral resources according to local availability, the paucity of metal items that have been recovered, along with evidence suggesting that in most settlements metalworking processes were independently completed on site, all lend support to the idea of self-sufficient operations conducted at each location on a part-time basis. Lead-isotope analyses, however, indicate a non-local origin of raw materials. This evidence, along with other factors such as unequal access to metal tools in different zones, and the discovery of two copper ingots at Peñalosa, a site that seems to have specialised in metal production, suggest to other scholars a congruency with traditional explanatory ideas. These ideas accorded pre-eminence to metallurgy within an increasingly complex Argaric economy, and defended the hypothesis of specialised, large-scale mining operations carried out by full-time craft specialists (Contreras 2000; Lull 2000; Stos-Gale 2000; Delgado and Risch 2006).
While the importance of previous research cannot be denied, in what follows, I focus on recent works that, besides contributing to a general reassessment of traditional interpretations, are also opening new lines of enquiry regarding gender, age, social practices and identity (Sánchez Romero 2004; 2007; Aranda and Esquivel 2006; 2007; Alarcón 2007; Montón-Subías 2007; 2010a; Aranda et al. 2009a; 2009b; Aranda and Montón-Subías 2011).
The Warlike Nature of Argaric Society
The re-evaluation of conventional interpretations is exemplified by some recent studies that cast doubt on traditional assumptions about the allegedly structural or endemic nature of warfare in Argaric society (Aranda et al. 2009a). According to the dominant research paradigm, Argaric society’s increasing complexity would be correlated with the increase and institutionalisation of warfare, as materialised in the emergence of an aristocratic warrior elite. In common with similar examples throughout Europe, however, the emergence of warriors and warfare has been asserted rather than explained.
There are two main sources of archaeological evidence that allegedly illustrate the warlike nature of Argaric society: the emergence of specialised weaponry (halberds and swords) and the very characteristics of Argaric settlements in relation to their location and some of their structures, interpreted as defensive (Siret and Siret 1890; Cuadrado 1950; Schubart 1973; Gilman 1976; Molina 1983; Castro et al. 1993–94; Contreras et al. 1995). But while a great deal of attention has been devoted to the typological study of weaponry, the warlike nature of El Argar society has been assumed without considering the evidence provided by the scale of production, use wear in metal weapons and traumas in skeletal bodies. All of these are deemed fundamental for clarifying and contrasting traditional assumptions.
Specialised Weaponry
Without exception, all well-provenanced halberds and swords have been recovered from tombs, where they were deposited as grave goods. Interestingly, since the beginnings of Argaric research, these weapons typically have been noted in adult male burials that contain the most striking accumulation of wealth and symbolic items (Castro et al. 1993–94) (Figure 31.3). Both types of object are regarded as possessing the highest social value among the funerary objects (Lull and Estevez 1986). Consequently, social position, gender and age would have determined access to halberds and swords. Research based on radiocarbon dating, however, seems to indicate that the weapons were not contemporary and that halberds were superseded by swords around 1800 Cal BC (Castro et al. 1993–94).
Nonetheless, only a handful of Argaric adult males were buried with them: we have just around 50 halberds and 13 swords according to the latest studies for the entire Argaric period (Brandherm 2003). This highly restricted access to specialised weapons stands in contrast to the more widespread occurrence of other metalwork. According to Montero (1993; 1994), weapons only represent 1.7% of the metal products and less than 10% weight of the total estimated metalwork for the whole Argaric period, which was mainly targeted at the manufacture of tools and ornaments. It can therefore be argued that specialised weaponry had a rather low impact on Argaric metal production.
It is worth clarifying here that, other than their actual weapons, no distinctive features identify the men found in Argaric tombs as warriors. We are not dealing here with anything resembling the well-known warrior tombs with standardised warrior assemblages that characterise later European developments (Kristiansen 1999; Harrison 2004; Harding 2007). The available facts do not support conventional assumptions on the use of those weapons. Evidence of use wear, for example, is virtually absent in swords and can only be observed in a rather small percentage of halberds (Brandherm 2003). In the latter, wear damage in the shape of notches and gaps on the edges is usually concentrated on the inner edge, in the area immediately below the hilt mark; this distribution of wear marks is repeated in a number of pieces (Brandherm 2003). Given the limited size of the overall sample, however, caution is required in interpreting this peculiar pattern. In addition, available analyses on the wood of sword hilts tend to question their suitability for actual combat (Hernández 1990; Carrión et al. 2002). In view of all this, it is difficult to imagine a context of generalised interpersonal violence where swords and halberds would have played a decisive role (Aranda et al. 2009a).
Skeletal Remains
Evidence for wounds found in archaeological skeletons has not been examined systematically in the Argaric record. Only recently have analyses at the University of Granada’s Laboratory of Physical Anthropology addressed this question (Botella et al. 1995; Jiménez-Brobeil et al. 1995). It is true that episodes of violence in the past may have outnumbered those of which we are aware from the picture conveyed by human bones. For instance, lethal wounds do not always have an impact on bones, nor do we always have complete and well-preserved archaeological bodies, or can we always recover skeletons of people who died in violent encounters far away from their home villages (Milner 1999; Vencl 1999; Osgood et al. 2000; Walker 2001; Vankilde 2003). Even so, osteological lesions provide crucial data on violent social behavior in prehistoric societies, as is demonstrated by analysis of a sample of 155 skeletons, whose results showed how cranial traumatism might have had an intentional purpose (Aranda et al. 2009a).
In this example, 12 people – 10 males and 2 females – had suffered cranial injuries. Significantly, all of them were adults, mature or elderly. Except for three cases, the lesions consisted of impressions or depressed fractures in the outer deck of the cranial vault (Figure 31.4). All of them were ante-mortem cranial injuries possibly resulting from direct impacts, and showed clear signs of healing. In terms of sexual differences, male skeletons exhibit a statistically significant higher occurrence of injuries as compared to female ones (Aranda et al. 2009a: 1045).
Figure 31.4. Cranial traumatism from the Argaric site of Castellón Alto (after Aranda et al. 2009a).
The shape of the cranial lesions also showed a high degree of standardisation. Seventy-nine per cent of the injuries were circular or oval-shaped, measuring around 20 mm. Depending on the impact, the depressed fractures could be more or less severe (ranging from 0.5–4 mm). These were most commonly located in the frontal (57.9%) and the parietal areas (21%), and there was a higher incidence on the right (57.9%) versus the left side (31.6%). Again, all these differences were highly significant from a statistical point of view, which means that there is probably a non-random explanation for the higher rate of injuries on the right side of the cranial vault’s frontal area (Aranda et al. 2009a: 1046).
The previous evidence is consistent with hand-to-hand fighting episodes, and suggests that the injuries may have been caused by a variety of different blunt implements. Ethnographic and archaeological parallels also indicate that practices of this sort, hitherto unexamined for the Argaric world, usually take place in a context of ritualised or highly regulated resolution of violent conflicts, with few or no fatalities (Walker 1989; 2001; Turney-High 1991; Robb 1997; Wilkinson 1997; Schulting and Wysocki 2002; Guilaine and Zammit 2005; Arkush and Allen 2006; Solometo 2006). It must be emphasised that no evidence of sharp injuries has been found in the analysed sample, nor is it even mentioned in other paleoanthropological reports (Buikstra et al. 1999; Contreras et al. 2000; Kunter 2000; López-Padilla et al. 2006). Only Siret and Siret (1890: 184–85) reported a skull with signs of a dart injury from tomb 654 at El Argar, and Cloquell and Aguilar (1996) found a child’s skull with a sword injury at Caramoro. Both the cause of the wound and even the identification of this latter site as Argaric, however, remain open to question. Whatever role swords and halberds may have played in actual combat engagements, their imprints on bones are non-existent. Furthermore, evidence of violence-related mortality is also absent in the archaeological record, since no bodies with lethal injuries have ever been found.
We could probably learn a great deal more if the relevant anthropological evidence were reanalysed. We could establish whether males buried with specialised weaponry were also affected by cranial lesions, and whether that particular form of trauma can be found in other Argaric areas. According to the data reviewed, it seems undeniable that violence, in one form or another, was indeed present during the Argaric period. Its specific character, however, is not so clear. Although we have fortification systems and specialised weaponry, halberds and swords appear in very low quantities, and while evidence of trauma in skeletons may indicate that lesions were caused intentionally, that same evidence cannot be related to the sharp weapons under discussion.
As in many other cases within European prehistory, the Argaric archaeological record does not at present provide us with enough information to visualise thoroughly the different forms adopted by violence. As already mentioned, the prevailing assumptions about the existence of warriors and warfare have not been subject to intense scholarly debate, nor an in-depth search for supporting archaeological evidence. In the light of the available data, it seems clear that a single interpretation cannot account for the conditions and circumstances under which warlike practices occurred. Different archaeological evidence – architectonic defences, cranial traumata and specialised weaponry – point to different categories of violence and, therefore, to different scales, social costs, forms of combat, levels of inter- or intra-group conflict, social causes and social consequences. Thus, the scholarly debates on the nature, conditions and dimensions of warfare, or about its social scale, frequency, duration and consequences, remain to be developed (Aranda et al. 2009a).
Funerary Endowments and Commensality Rituals
Recent research trends also include studies of Argaric commensality practices linked to funerary rites (Aranda and Esquivel 2006; 2007; Sánchez Romero et al. 2007; Aranda 2008; Aranda and Montón-Subías 2011). The study of feasting and commensality in prehistoric societies has recently become prominent in the wake of theorisation of the topic in anthropology (Wiessner and Schiefenhövel 1996; Gosden and Hather 1999; Dietler and Hayden 2001; Parker 2003; Pollock 2003; Smith 2003; Halstead and Barret 2004; Hayden 2009; Aranda et al. 2011). There are two major sources of evidence for the study of Argaric funerary commensality practices: (1) pottery wares explicitly manufactured for ritual use; and (2) animal bones found in burials, the latter regarded as the remains of meat served at the funerary banquet, where the deceased would also be a symbolic guest.
Commensal Pottery
Pottery of very specific morphological and technological characteristics, not found in other contexts, has been recovered from Argaric funerary endowments. Besides being heavily standardised, these wares comprise mostly vessels that can be seen to have been used for serving and consuming food: carinated vessels, as well as bowls of different depths and platters which, because of their relatively open shapes, allow for easy access to their contents. Other new shapes, such as cups – hitherto without precedents in the archaeological record of southeastern Iberian prehistory – have also been found. Their morphology and residue analysis suggest that they were specifically used for the consumption of beverages. Globe or egg-shaped bottles with a sharply defined neck have been found as well, along with lens-shaped and carinated vessels. Precisely because of their shapes, access to the contents of these types of jars is obviously more difficult, but preservation is greatly improved, as the evaporation rate is lower. As for bottles, the curved shape of their lips would make the pouring of liquids much easier. All these morphological features seem to have been designed for the small-scale storage of liquids (Aranda and Esquivel 2006).
Other technological patterns also suggest that these vessels may have been intended as showpieces. As a matter of fact, the most salient feature of some of the ceramic wares in the mortuary rituals is that they are made to be conspicuously displayed and observed. This is evident from the very fine clays and heavily burnished surfaces with a typically metal finish, and is further corroborated by the fact that some of the pieces were fired at low temperatures, a method that yields pottery unfit for frequent everyday use (Figure 31.5). The shapes of these vessels are moreover rather stylised compared to those found outside funerary contexts, which means that visual properties were selected over practical ones such as durability or stability (Aranda and Esquivel 2006).
Figure 31.5. Burnished Argaric pottery.
The above-mentioned features of funerary vessels, however, are not homogeneously distributed; on the contrary, they can only be found in the richest tombs, where endowments comprise items of great social value, e.g. weapons, tools and decorative objects made of copper, silver and gold. In the tombs of people of a lower social standing, by contrast, the pottery wares are morphologically and technologically indistinguishable from those used in everyday life. These differences in Argaric funerary furnishings suggest certain vessels were exclusively manufactured for their use in elite commensality rituals.
Meat for Death
Regarding the animal bones that are found in tombs, it must be pointed out that faunal remains in Argaric burials have hitherto received scant attention. Although the study of mortuary behaviour, and most specifically of the furniture deposited in tombs, has always been privileged over other lines of enquiry in the study of Argaric communities, faunal remains have traditionally been overlooked. Their significance has been largely ignored despite their recurrent presence in tombs, and despite the fact that they were mentioned already by the Siret brothers (1890: 169, 250), and were also noticed in later research (Molina et al. 1984: 355, 358; Carrasco and Pachón 1984: 369; Ayala 1986: 338). With few exceptions, animal bones recovered from tombs were evaluated as integral parts of the general zooarchaeological sample, but deemed irrelevant to the understanding of funerary behaviour.
This oversight is not out of place in the context of the history of Argaric research. Initially devoted to defining the distribution and chronology of the newly discovered culture, early studies favoured a typological approach to material culture that privileged pottery and metal funerary gifts. Later theories of Argaric social structures were also based on the study of funerary pottery and metalware. Only in recent years have faunal remains and socio-ideological practices received the attention they deserve as a result of a better understanding of the decisions made by the living about where, how and with which objects to bury the dead (Aranda and Esquivel 2007; Sánchez Romero et al. 2007; Aranda 2008; Aranda and Montón-Subías 2011).
Interestingly enough, faunal remains are common in El Argar burials, as 35–40% of tombs contain such remains. This allows us to infer that commensal celebrations were an important part of Argaric mortuary practices; possibly the living deposited bones in the tombs to represent symbolically the participation of the deceased in the ritual.
Such practices, as seen above with respect to the pottery, were highly standardised. Offerings consisted of high-quality meat cuts from the limbs (tibiae, femurae, humerae, ulnae and radii) of bovines (40.3%) and ovicaprines (59.6%) of usually non-adult ages (74.4%). Other domestic (pig 1.7%; horse 1.7%) and wild species (deer 3.5%) hardly feature in burials. With rare exceptions, only the remains of a single species and a single animal are introduced in each particular tomb (86%). Although more taphonomic data on cooking and butchery patterns are required, the presence of some limbs in anatomical connection (tibiae with astragalus and/or calcaneus, and a humerus with radius and ulna) indicates that they were deposited in tombs as complete pieces of meat (whether cooked or raw is unknown).
Remains of bovines have been found only in elite adult burials, while ovicaprines turn up in the graves of children below 12 years of age and of adults in lower social positions. It is also worth noting that the funerary offerings of a very small number of burials included beef but not the other objects typically associated with the social elite.
In contrast with other deposition patterns, no gender-related significance has been detected in the distribution of faunal remains, since ovicaprines and bovines can be found in similar quantities in both male and female burials. Argaric commensal ritual practices, therefore, showed specific features that varied only in accordance with the age and social status of the deceased. From all the above, we may deduce that there was a norm, cutting across all of Argaric geography and history, that dictated how such rituals were to be conducted (Sánchez Romero et al. 2007).
In accordance with ethnographic data from different societies, we may assume that commensal rituals celebrated as part of mortuary practices in Argaric culture had various meanings and contributed to reinforcing ideologies of power and collective identity. Without doubt, in communities characterised by social inequality, such rituals would ideologically legitimise and naturalise social differences to the advantage of the dominant social sectors, while at the same time promoting feelings of cohesion and social belonging. In brief, social cohesion and social distance, inequality and social exclusion may have been two sides of the same ritual coin. The small number of burials with ovicaprine instead of bovine bones moreover suggests that commensal rituals at funerals offered ideal occasions for social conflict and provided opportunities that might have been seized upon by groups seeking social promotion (Aranda and Esquivel 2007; Aranda 2008; Aranda and Montón-Subías 2011).
By way of conclusion, we may safely infer that commensal practices probably served a variety of objectives: on the one hand they created a sense of communal belonging, but on the other hand, they enabled politico-ideological mechanisms to display and legitimise social inequalities and distances, and sometimes to negotiate and even contest them.
Everyday Life Management and Maintenance Activities in the Funerary Record
We have already argued above how in Argaric culture the way the living dealt with the dead expressed the group’s social identity and their perception of the deceased. But before considering recent research on everyday life management and maintenance activities, I should perhaps clarify – for those who are unfamiliar with the term – the concept of maintenance activities, which emerged in Spanish feminist archaeology in the 1990s (González-Marcén et al. 2008) and remains in widespread use there today (Montón-Subías and Sánchez Romero 2008). Initially catalysed by gendered archaeological challenges to correct ‘the appalling absence of concepts that tap women’s experience’ (Conkey and Gero 1991: 3), the notion of maintenance activities encompasses a set of practices that involve the sustenance, welfare and effective reproduction of all the members of a social group. These comprise the basic tasks of daily life that regulate and stabilise social life. They mainly involve care giving, feeding and food processing, weaving and cloth manufacture, hygiene, public health and healing, socialisation of children and the fitting out and organisation of related spaces (for similar ideas, see Bray 1997; Allison 1999; Meyers 2003).
Such activities always entail specialised knowledge and the ability to sustain networks of interpersonal relationships in which they take place. The concept of maintenance activities thus refers to the basic tasks that regulate both the course of human life and social stability on a daily basis; they are therefore crucial for the reproduction, cohesion and welfare of human groups. Associated with specific technological practices and with the existing social values and norms, their ultimate function is to guarantee the possible reiteration and recurrence of group activities, and to channel any changes in the latter into new forms of everyday life management (González-Marcén et al. 2008).
Recent studies of El Argar culture have begun to engage with this field of enquiry and, more specifically, with the materiality of activities associated with learning, childcare, socialisation practices and the construction of self-identity (Sánchez Romero 2004; 2007; 2008; Montón-Subías 2007; 2010a; Aranda et al. 2009b; Alarcón and Sánchez Romero 2010).
Argaric Children: Learning and Socialisation Processes
Teaching children how to deal with their social environment is essential for the sustainability of that environment itself across time. Socialisation processes guarantee the transmission of cultural, technological and symbolic patterns. But the study of such processes in the Argaric world remains largely underdeveloped. Scholars’ lack of interest in maintenance activities is here compounded with their traditional disregard for the study of children in prehistoric societies – a field that has branched off from feminist and gender archaeologies and is thereby gaining increasing relevance (e.g. Lillehammer 1989; Moore and Scott 1997; Sofaer-Derevinski 2000; Baxter 2005; Dommasnes and Wrigglesworth 2008).
Children’s burials in the Argaric world have received increasing attention from scholars who hold two different albeit interrelated perspectives. Inspired by a Marxist perspective, research is focused on economic inequalities in Argaric society, and specifically uses evidence from children’s burials to investigate whether social differences were hereditary (Lull et al. 2004). Evident social differences in burials of children six years of age and above lay bare the arrangements for the hereditary, unequal transmission of private property in the Argaric world.
The other approach to the study of children’s burials focuses on maintenance activities. This perspective is mainly concerned with gathering data on learning and socialisation processes, and on the social identity of Argaric children (Sánchez Romero 2004; 2007; 2008). In this line of research, the archaeological record at Cerro de la Encina (Monachil, Granada; see Aranda and Molina 2006) is of special importance. Argaric pottery is highly standardised, and it follows well-defined morphological, metrical and technological patterns (although there are exceptions to this general rule; see, e.g., Colomer 2005; Montón-Subías 2010b). Some small, rather curious vessels found at Cerro de la Encina, however, seem to depart from the norm in terms of quality. Asymmetrical in form, with coarse temper and no surface treatment, they do not equal the high level of skill generally observed in Argaric wares, but instead look like a poor imitation, or the result of an unsuccessful attempt on the part of the manufacturers to replicate the canon.
No clear explanation for this ‘substandard’ type of vessel seemed plausible until more of them turned up in one of the site’s tombs, where two children had been buried. This finding led Sánchez Romero (2007; 2008) to interpret the untypical vessels as toys made by children during the learning process, while they were acquiring manufacturing skills. They illustrated how the children’s socialisation process combined the spheres of production and play (Figure 31.6). Scholars such as Sánchez Romero also regard the funerary record as a source of further information on children’s socialisation processes, and believe Argaric burial rites should be re-evaluated from that perspective, given that the presence of different types of grave goods in children’s tombs reflect differences that in all likelihood were also materialised in everyday life. Argaric children were probably aware – from a very early age – of their status, and conscious of everything that distinguished them from others.
Figure 31.6. Vessel of substandard finish found at the Argaric site of Cerro de la Encina (after Sánchez Romero 2004).
Maintenance Activities and the Formation of Gender Identity
The study of material culture in the funerary record, and most specifically in women’s tombs, highlights the connection between maintenance activities and gender identity in Argaric communities (Montón-Subías 2007; 2010a; Aranda et al. 2009b). The performance of maintenance activities entails social actions implicated in the formation of self-identity; they create a specific range of social experiences, a specific experience of the human life cycle, and a specific relationship of the self in society, and encourage clearly defined abilities, qualities and responsibilities on the part of those who carry them out. This means that the people in charge of maintenance activities, who establish their personal identity through the daily practice of such activities, must have a particular, typically relational understanding of identity and personhood, which includes the way to interrelate with other members of the group (Montón-Subías 2010c).
As pointed out elsewhere (Montón-Subías 2007; 2010a; Aranda et al. 2009b), psychology, anthropology and communication studies have shown how personal identity is forged by a variety of mechanisms (Geertz 1973; Markus and Kitayama 1998), two of which stand out as the most important. In some instances, ‘identity develops from social relationships, and those relationships with others actually constitute identity’, whereas in other cases ‘identity develops as the individual separates from primary relationships, and those features and experiences unique to him or her constitute identity’ (Kim 2001: 6). Although relationally and individually established forms of identity are each represented in groups with different understandings of selfhood and personhood, they can also coexist within the same social group, as Li Puma (2001) and Hernando (2002) have shown from anthropological and archaeological standpoints.
There are many items of material culture in Argaric tombs that were connected with maintenance activities. One particular object deserves special attention in my view: the awl, which is the only metal tool integrated into daily life activities that, with few exceptions, is found exclusively in female tombs (Figure 31.7). The presence of awls in the mortuary record cuts across time periods, funerary and non-funerary spaces, the subject’s age or social position … but not their gender. In fact, among all the metal funerary objects associated with one sex, awls are the only ones that are present throughout the entire Argaric period. In male tombs, by contrast, exclusively metal items show more variability during the same span of time, although there are also items connected with maintenance activities in some male tombs.
In previous papers, I have advanced a possible interpretation for this situation, and connected the presence of the awl with the symbolical need to mark female identity in the mortuary ritual (Montón-Subías 2007; 2010a; Aranda et al. 2009b). Following Hamlin (2001: 125), it may plausibly be assumed that when such a link between a tool and a particular sex can be shown, it is because that sex undertakes the activities performed with that tool. Until now, no analyses to ascertain the tasks performed with awls have been conducted, but following ethnographic and textual evidence, we may presume that awls were used in day-to-day production activities such as leather and wood tasks, textile and basketry manufacture, maintenance and reparation of certain objects, and so on (Spector 1993).
Studies conducted on Argaric skeletons further indicated possible differences between the activities carried out by men and women, as evidenced by two fundamental markers: arthrosis and musculo-skeletal stress (Jiménez-Brobeil and Ortega 1992; Jiménez-Brobeil et al. 1995; 2004; Al Oumaoui et al. 2004). The different incidence of arthrosis in men (38%) and women (25.9%) was not statistically significant at a general level. When specific joints or the axial skeleton were considered, however, the higher levels of arthrosis in the dorsal vertebrae, the shoulders and the feet in male skeletons reached statistical significance (Jiménez-Brobeil et al. 1995; 2004). The study of musculo-skeletal stress shows that men experienced greater muscular development that cannot be explained by sexual dimorphism; it was probably connected with intense physical activity and frequent walking, particularly on steep hilly areas, such as those where Argaric settlements are typically located (Al Oumaoui et al. 2004; Jiménez-Brobeil et al. 2004).
Bringing together these results, it seems likely that the patterns of men’s and women’s activities differed significantly during the Argaric period. Arthrosis affects those body parts that also show greater evidence of musculo-skeletal stress: dorsal vertebrae, shoulders and feet joints. This means that the development of arthrosis – at least in some joints – can be correlated with intense physical activities, a correlation that becomes all the more significant when all these markers show up in the same bodies.
Argaric women’s lesser degree of mobility is consistent with the fact that they were mainly in charge of daily life maintenance activities, and suggests a close association between women and the domestic domain. Consequently, and although I am aware of the level of speculation involved in such a claim, ‘symbolism expressed in tombs was congruent with the practices actually accomplished by Argaric women in everyday life’ (Aranda et al. 2009b: 154).
It can be said, by way of conclusion, that material culture – inasmuch as it was integrated into practices of everyday maintenance – acted as a signifier of female gender identity. Because of their connection with the management of everyday life, awls may have been selected to represent symbolically the dominant aspect of female identity in the funerary record. Female gender identity in the Argaric world was shaped by the sphere of maintenance activities, linked to specific networks of social relationships and to specific forms of social and temporal organisation.
Conclusions
The aim of this chapter has been twofold: first, to present a brief overview of conventional interpretations of Argaric society, and second, to review in some detail the most recent work in this field. As I have tried to show, analysis of the mortuary record casts new light on the allegedly warlike disposition of Argaric culture and opens up new lines of research on commensality practices and daily maintenance activities. Such studies may address topics such as the relationships between Argaric men, women and children, and suggest that the level of grand scholarly narratives should be combined with perspectives at the scale of more specific human actions and experiences.
As we have seen, recent studies indicate that traditional assumptions regarding a supposedly specialised warrior elite and the allegedly institutional nature of warfare in El Argar culture are no longer tenable in light of recent analytical evidence of specialised weaponry. The small number of weapons recovered, the traces of use wear in metal and the wood of sword hilts, and palaeoanthropological analyses of trauma in human bones are incompatible with the conventional picture of a warlike culture. Although the existence of violence in Argaric society may seem undeniable in the light of much of the evidence, substantial questions about its specific form, conditions, scale, frequency, duration and social consequences remain unanswered.
There are also unanswered questions concerning the second topic reviewed in this chapter, which are commensality practices. Careful analysis of hitherto neglected evidence may shed more light on this issue, but current information already gives us a better understanding of ritual practices at Argaric funerals, and we can safely assume that, with respect to commensality, mortuary behaviour was also clearly regulated.
The third area of research discussed is that of so-called maintenance activities. As I have tried to show, the mortuary record offers evidence on a wide range of practices associated with the sustainability and reproduction of social groups and the symbolic status of their members at the moment of death.
These three areas of research indicate that mortuary behaviour formed an active part of social interactions in Argaric society. Mortuary rituals not only expressed personal and collective identities, but also helped to reproduce and negotiate them. They also established a reference framework for the members of the community through the deposition of items that may have served as emblems of high-ranked masculinity (such as halberds and swords), or through commensal rituals and items connected with maintenance activities. As we have seen, it is possible to express and create both social distance and proximity, social continuity and discontinuity through specific mortuary rituals. It is important to understand the two sides of these rituals because both derived from past human social actions and both inform us about people’s identities and lives.
Acknowledgements
This chapter was written and accepted for publication in 2009. It has benefited from discussions with Gonzalo Aranda, Dirk Branherm, Margarita Sánchez Romero and Eva Alarcón. Any errors or shortcomings, however, are my own responsibility. This work has been made possible by support from the Spanish Ministry of Science and Innovation (Ref. HAR2009-07283), the Spanish Ministry of Economy and Competitiveness (Ref. HAR2012–31927) and the Catalan Agency for Research and Development (AGAUR, MIDARC-SGR 835).