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    2000 The Construction of Hierarchy

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    Ivan Višnjić
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    9. | The Construction of Hierarchy: Rethinking the Copper Age in Southeastern Europe Peter F. Biehl and Arkadiusz Marciniak Abstract: This essay reevaluates the concept of social complexity and hier- archy ina prehistoric society without any trace of urbanization or state hood. It eriticizes previous assumptions that the social spheres of prehis- toric communities were clearly defined, bounded entities with articulat- ea institutions, roles, and positions, On the bass of anew analysis ofthe extraordinarily rich Earl ‘Age cemetery of Vara in Bulgaria, tesay discusses the uniqueness ofthe Southeast European Copper Age in the second part of the fourth millennium B.C. (uncalibrated) It argues that the “Varna phenomenon” was episodic and was grounded in the dy- namic process of mobilizing all available resources in a particular region and time. The Varna cemetery became a place “in action,” influenced and ‘modified by the continuous process of constituting itself. The cemetery was not used as a way to display the social status of the elite but as @ ‘means of establishing the group’s past, of providing them with an iden- tity and establishing social position in a new. symbolic manner. High-quality copper and gold items first appear in southeast Europe in the second half ofthe fourth millennium B.C, raising intriguing juestions about the technologies, the societies, and the exchange systems that Inked them, For instance, were copper and gold introduced into already exist- ing social and economic exchange networks, or did their introduction lead to the formation of more elaborate social and economic hierarchies? If 50, how these hierarchies function, and how can they and their accompanying socioeconomic systems and ritual-religious belief systems be understood? This essay focuses on early social complexity, on who benefited as hier- archies evolved, and how they can be identified through analysis of material culture. The best way to discuss this is by example, and there is no better one than the extraordinary Early Copper Age cemetery of Varna in Bulgaria, which John Chapman has called, “one of the greatest concentrations of wealth in prehistoric Europe” (1991:152). Our analysis will help elucidate how a hier Hierarchies in Action: Cui Bono? edited by Michael W. Diehl. Center for Archaeological Investigations, Occasional Paper No. 27. © 2000 by the Board of Trustees, Southern Iinois University. llrightsreserved. ISBN 0-88104-0843. 181 182 P. F. Biehl and A. Marciniak archical social system in southeast Europe might have originated, how it might have functioned, who benefited from it, and, finally, how it might have collapsed. But before we approach these topics, we must first present the geo- graphical, chronological, and culture-historical context of our study. The Geographic, Chronological, and Culture-historical Context Southeast Europe is characterized by four different geomorpholog- ical zones (Figure 9-1). The first, the Carpathian Basin, is surrounded by the Carpathian mountain range in the north and east and the Balkan mountain range in the south. It is linked to neighboring eastern zones via several Carpa- thian passes and by the Danube River and to a southern zone by the Morava and Vardar rivers. The second, the Aegean-Thracian zone, is surrounded by the Balkan mountain range, the Rodophe and Strandzha-Sakar mountain ranges in the north and the Aegean Sea and the Sea of Marmara in the south and east. This zone is connected to the north through the Struma and Iskar and the Maritsa and Tundzha rivers. The third, the Westpontic zone, covers the area between the Carpathians and the Aegean-Thrace. It is open to the north, the Northpontic steppe zone, which provided enormous space for the unhampered movement of people and the exchange of goods. This fourth zone stretches to the Dnepr River. Overall, the region has natural barriers pre- venting access as well as connections through rivers and mountain passes that allow movement. These natural passages were used during all of European prehistory for communication, exchange, and trade. The steppe zone in south- eastern Europe is and was particularly open to a unique and influential geo- ‘morphological and geocultural environment: the Central Asian steppes. Before we turn to the chronological context of the Southeast European Cop- per Age, we must briefly consider the culture-historical approach used in pre- Vious and current research, Undoubtedly, the strength of this approach is a careful and extensive classification and analysis of the material culture. The important result of this research tradition is that it enabled archaeologists to elaborate a firm relative chronology for the various regions in the Southeast European Neolithic period and the Copper Age. This chronology is still an in- dispensable prerequisite in the understanding of broader cultural processes. The flaws of this approach are reflected in the countless regional terms for archaeological cultures and the problems of their synchronization. The fact that archaeologists still flatly refuse to use the term Copper Age and insist on using the terms Eneolithic or Chalcolithic highlights the very different ways of conceptualizing cultural processes in Furopean prehistory. For example, for some archaeologists, a simple change in technology, such as the introduction of heavy copper tools, is enough fo Begin to speak of a Copper Age (see Lichardus 1991a:14-20). For others, a change in the mortuary practices, such as the emergence of collective burials, merits the usage. The problem is that such markers are inherently flawed as they isolate attributes from their con- text and prevent the Copper Age from being considered in terms of the "Three-Age System.” Rethinking the Copper Age | 183, Figure 9-1. Morphological map of southeast Europe with the site of Varna and geomorphological zones (after Lichardus 1988:80, Figure 41): (1) Carpathian Basin zone; (2) Aegean-Thracian zone; (35 Westpontic zone, (4) Northpontie steppe zone. On this basis, Alasdair Whittle states in his study Europe in the Neolithic, regarding the chronological and culture-historical context of the European Copper Age, that “the potential confusion is endless. In the earlier fifth millen- 184|P. F. Biehl and A. Marciniak nium B.C. (calibrated dates), for example, we have a Late Neolithic in Greece, Hungary, and Romania but an Early Copper Age in Bulgaria; the Hungarian Early Copper Age starts with the Tiszapolgér phase of the later fifth millen- nium 8, the time of the Late Copper Age in southern Balkan terminology” (1996:380-381). Unfortunately, his suggestion that “itis safer to refer to spans of millennia in calibrated /calendar years” (1996:381) still lacks a firm frame- work of radiocarbon dates, especially in the Southeast European Copper Age (Breuning 1987; Kossack and Lichardus 1991:803). Jan Lichardus has recently summarized these problems of terminology and has suggested that, instead of keeping the various regional terms and definitions of the Copper Age, a gen- eral European chronology on the basis of a structural definition should be applied (Lichardus 1991a:24-28). This would include not only technology but as many characteristics of an archaeological culture—such as economy, soci- ety, and ideology /religion—as possible (Lichardus 1991b:763). Such a syn- chronization of the regional archaeological cultures is in our opinion prefera- ble to the simplistic practice of putting regional and temporal sequences “side by side,” as can be seen in Whittle’s work (1996-42). In this essay, we consider the Copper Age as the synchronic chronological horizon for the second half of, the fourth millennium B.C. (uncalibrated), as Lichardus recently suggested (Lichardus 1991a:23, 1991b:786-789; Kossack and Lichardus 1991:601-803). To summarize, this synchronic view on the basis of a structural definition of the Copper Age enables us to come closer to understanding the socioeconomic changes that occurred some 6,000 years ago. We may now direct our attention to the social sphere in which these changes took place. Copper, Gold, and Symbolic Graves: The Varna Cemetery ‘The Varna cemetery belongs to the chronological period A2-B1 of the Kod2adermen-Gumelnifa-Karanovo VI culture complex (Lichardus 1991¢:175; Table 9-1). Since there are no radiocarbon dates, we have to apply relative chronology—and the Vama cemetery can be synchronized with Tri- polye BI and Cucuteni A3-A4 in the Northpontic steppe zone and with Tiszapolgar and the beginning of Bodrogkerestir in the Carpathian zone. Itis, ‘most important, much earlier than Troy I and the Early Helladic Bronze Age. In 1972, construction work led to the discovery of a prehistoric cemetery on the outskirts of the Black Sea resort of Varna, in Bulgaria, Today, the cemetery is located 500 m from the shoreline of the Varna lake, which was probably—as recent analyses suggest (Ivanov 1991)—a narrow estuary connected to the Black Sea, which is currently 3.5 km away from it. Around the lake, the remains of 13 “pile-dwellings” have been identified, of which 8 were probably synchronous with the Varna cemetery in the second half of the fourth millen- nium B.C. (Ivanov 1988:49). Although no systematic excavation of the pile- dwellings has been undertaken—all remains are under the recent lake level— Ivanov estimates that some could have covered a surface of more than 7 hec- tares. However, it should be stressed that the range of artifacts that have been. Rethinking the Copper Age | 185 Table 9-1. A Simplified Chart of the General Chronology of the Early Copper Age in Southeastern Europe from 3500 to 3000 Years B.C. (Uncalibrated) South- North- Southeast West Southeast west Carpathian pontic Aegean Bulgaria Bulgaria Romania Romania Zone Zone Zone Karanovo Krivodol Gumelnifa Saleufa Bodrog- Cucuteni_Rachmani VI keresztir Tripolye Sitagroi I Tiszapolgér found in the pile-dwellings near Ezerovo and Strasimirovo is no greater than what was found at the tell settlements in northeast Bulgaria (Todorova and Tonteva 1975). There is—as seems to be the case for all tell settlements of this, region—no evidence of a great concentration of exotic exchange goods or a specialized copper or gold production. There is also no indication of a monu- mental or central building that could have served for communal ritual and re- ligious organization o that could represent houses of the “elites.” This leads us to rethink assumptions about societal structure and particularly ideas about ‘wealth, social inequality, and hierarchy, which have been surmised through analysis of this unparalleled cemetery. From 1972 to 1986, 7,500 m? of the cemetery was excavated. According to Ivanov (1991), the excavator, more graves can be expected in the north. The cemetery has been fully excavated in the south, east, and west. The excavation is ongoing, but since 1991, no new graves have been announced or made public. To date, some 281 graves have been excavated, but only a very limited number are published in a systematic way—that is, all grave goods with a detailed description of their grave context—in various articles and catalogs (Best 1984; Demoule and Ivanov 1979; Egami et al. 1982; Gimbutas 1977a, 1977b; Ivanov 1975, 1978, 1986, 1988; Renfrew 1978a; Todorova 1978; WeiBhaar 1982; Zanotti 1986). Although the limitations of publication do not allow a conclusive analysis and interpretation, some important inferences can be drawn and will here be summarized (see Ivanov 1991; Lichardus 1991b; Nikolov 1991; Whittle 1996:96-101). Gender Differentiation and Symbolic Graves The cemetery contains graves of men, women, and children, and so-called symbolic graves, or cenotaphs, without human remains. Men were generally buried in an extended position (90 graves: 32%) and women in a crouched position (56 graves: 23%). Seventy graves with skeletons were de- stroyed by modern agricultural activities. In addition to the graves with re- 186 |P. F. Biehl and A. Marciniak mains, a very high percentage of grave pits (56 “graves”: 20%) did not contain any skeletons. Since the pits are up to two meters deep, it is most unlikely that the human bones have disintegrated by biochemical processes. Cemetery Organization ‘There appear to be defined groups or concentrations of graves within the overall layout, but the graves do not seem to intersect, nor is there any evidence of surface markers such as earth upheavals or stone steles (Ivanov 1991:125). One such concentration can be seen in the so-called core part of the cemetery (see Lichardus 1991c:168-170, Figures 1-2), where the richest” graves and symbolic graves are located (Figure 9-2). There are differ- cent categories in the quality, quantity, and the combination of grave goods in the cemetery and within the core part (Lichardus 1991¢:167). Copper jewelry and heavy tools were found in 82 graves, gold artifacts in 61 graves. Of the 61 graves with gold artifacts, 34 were symbolic graves, 10 were male graves, 13, were supposedly female graves, and 4 were disturbed graves. In all, about 6.5 kg of gold was found, and of that, 1.5 kg was in grave 43. More than 1,000 items of Spondylus jewelry were found in 94 graves, and more than 2,000 Dentalium seashells were discovered in 21 graves (only in symbolic graves; Ivanov 1991:130). Several ceramic pots were found in almost all graves, stone artifacts were unearthed in 84 graves, and 131 graves contained silex artifacts. ‘The “Richest” Grave Grave 43 played a central role in the core part of the Varna ceme- tery. It is an extended burial with an abundance of grave goods (see Ivanov 19889, Figure 2; 55, Figure 25; 59, Figures 28-29; 200-203). The grave contains the skeleton of a 40-50-year-old man. The man's right arm is by his side and his left arm is on his chest. Next to his head and chest—oriented, like all other skeletons, to the north—there were several pots. Near his right arm there was a copper ax and a “sceptre,” a perforated stone hammer-ax with a gold shaft. ‘On both upper arms there were heavy gold rings, and from the head down to the lower legs there were many other gold ornaments, such as small disks around the head and beads and disks down the body, which were most likely attached to clothing. A gold tube with small perforations at its thicker end—mosly interpreted as a pens cover_has been found a the right hip, Which make such an interpretation questionable (vanov 1978:Figure 24, 1988:Figure 25; Lichardus 1968:Figure 58, 1991a:174 ). By the knees there were other gold disks together with a hammer-ax, an ax, a chisel, an awl, and a needle, all in copper, as well as a stone ax and ornaments of bone and Spondylus. Altogether, there were 990 gold objects weighing over 1.5 kg. Mask Graves ‘There are three symbolic graves with clay masks of human form and size (Figure 9-3). The so-called mask graves in Vara are located in a row in the core part of the cemetery and close to the central grave 43. At the base of the grave, there were traces of red ochre and black organic matter. To the north of the grave pit, there were several pots. Nearby, one mask of fired clay Rethinking the Copper Age | 187 Figure 9-2. Varna cemetery plan (after Ivanov 1988, Figure 222) with framed core part (after Lichardus 1991c:168, Figure 1): © = symbolic grave; * = burial in extended position; ? = burial in crouched position; x= destroyed grave. was found. The mask showed ears, a nose, and a brow. Gold ornaments high lighted the facial features and included a strip diadem across the brow, rings in the ears, disks for the eyes, and a strip across the mouth. There were also ‘two gold amulets below the face. In the southern part of the grave there was a bone figurine (grave 3 marble with perforated gold disks), flint blades, a pot, and many Dentalium shells. These masks are mostly interpreted as represen- tations of a female goddess connected to fertility, which we will discuss later in detail (Ivanov 1988). 188 |P. F. Biehl and A. Marciniak Figure 9-3. Mask grave, symbolic grave No. 2: (1) mask of fired clay; (2) grave plan; (3) sectional view (after Ivanov 1988:56, Figure 26). The Regional Pattern ‘There are other cemeteries in northeast Bulgaria that show patterns comparable with those at the Varna cemetery. The patterns—such as gender Rethinking the Copper Age | 189 differentiation, symbolic graves, core part concentration of graves, “wealth” categories in grave goods, and comparable material culture—can be seen in Golyamo Deléevo, Devnya, Vinica, Radingrad, Targoviste, Ruse, and Balbu- nar (see Lichardus 1991¢186; also Todorova et al. 1975). But Varna is still unique for the abundance of rich and exotic grave goods that cannot be found in these small village cemeteries. With that said, we will have to scrutinize how we can interpret these very distinct characteristics of the Varna cemetery in regard to hierarchies within and between the societies in the region. This will eventually bring us closer to an understanding of the socioeconomic and religious-ideological system that created and sustained the “Varna phenomenon.” Chiefdom, Civilization, and Complex Society: The Varna Phenomenon The extraordinary material culture at Varna, especially the various items of gold and copper, has excited great interest in archaeologists. From the very beginning, different approaches and interpretations regarding the social structure of the society bearing this “culture” have been proposed. Mainly, five different explanations have been advanced for the “Varna society.” They may be labeled (1) material, (2) symbolic, (3) structural, (4) processual, and (5) contextual. To begin with, the materialist explanation for the wealth and social inequal- ity of Vama is propounded by most of the Bulgarian archaeologists (Ivanov 1975, 1978, 1986, 1988, 1991; Marazov 1988, 1991; Nikolov 1991; Radunceva 1989; Todorova 1978, 1982, 1988). Varna is regarded as evidence of the emer- gence of considerable social complexity. Social processes are characterized by the replacement of matriarchy with patriarchal social relations. Another char- acteristic feature is seen in the emergence of specialization of crafts and trade within a society that until then had been considered egalitarian. Ivanov even speaks of Varna as the mortuary place of a protostate and considers the Varna region as an administrative, manufacturing, and commercial center (1988:56). The second hypothesis can essentially be attached to Marija Gimbutas and her theory of the patriarchal Kurgan invaders. She stresses the symbolic sig- nificance of the goddesses of this matrilineal civilization in referring to the figurines and especially to the earthen masks in the three graves without bod- ies in Varna. She interprets the rich male graves of this cemetery as the first signs of accumulation of individual wealth, “which could have been stimulat- ed by contact with the Kurgan people for whom private ownership was the norm” (Gimbutas 1991:121; see also Gimbutas 1982, 1989). The third explanation, which is advanced by archaeologists such as Jan Lichardus, Jean-Paul Demoule, and Marion Lichardus-Itten (Demoule and Lichardus-Itten 1989; Lichardus 1991c) suggests that Varna represents a new complex social system that could not originate in the context of the sedentary, agricultural societies of the Early Copper Age culture complex of Kod2adermen-Gumelnita-Karanovo VI in the Westpontic zone. On the basis, 190 |P. F. Biehl and A. Marciniak of a structural definition of the Copper Age, they trace the new social system back to a regular and intensive contact with the pastoralists in the Northpontic steppes, which leads to a surplus production by the agriculturalists (Lichardus 1991c:191). The surplus production is built on an intensified agriculture and metallurgy. The latter requires specialization involving the prospectors, min- ers, metallurgists, and traders who produce and move the ore over long dis- tances. These processes have to be organized and lead to the elaboration of an elite upper class. In a detailed analysis of the northeast Bulgarian cemeteries, Lichardus shows that the social status of the elite became hereditary and was demonstrated by very rich children’s graves (1988:100, 1991c:186). The exotic prestige goods of Varna, all these authors argue, represent an adoption, albeit changed and localized, of typical pastoralist status symbols. In this structural is considered a threshold to the creation of a Copper Age civilization that influences the whole European continent. A processual interpretation of the Varna phenomenon has been presented by Colin Renfrew. He suggests that the Varna cemetery reflects chiefdom, applied here as a useful category for pronounced ranking and a measure of centralized organization (Renfrew 1978b, 1986). He argues that Varna is an example of the emergence of previously unknown social differentiation in the European Copper Age. This theory was intended to locate the Varna society in the continuum between simple and complex societies. It fulfills Renfrew’s third cziterion of social ranking, that is, personal ranking acquired through the accumulation of wealth (see Renfrew 1982:4). The emergence of hierarchy was legitimized by the consumption of prestige items by individuals, and this it- self is regarded by Renfrew as a proof of the existence of a chiefdom (Renfrew 1986:154). Such an approach made it almost impossible to effectively deal with the enormous richness of the grave goods in Varna and, at the same time, with the indicators of the mostly egalitarian economy in neighboring regions (see Renfrew 1986:147). Ina contextual approach to cope with this phenomenon, John Chapman extended the investigation by examining evidence from settlement sites in northeast Bulgaria (Chapman 1988, 1990, 1991). This approach is based on the assumption that the presence of social inequality of any kind had to be mani- fested not only in one cemetery, but it also should be recognized in other spheres of human activities, especially at tell settlements. This aspect has been. previously noticed by Renfrew; however, available material has not been eval- uated from that point of view (Renfrew 1986:150). But, again, there are no sys- tematically excavated settlements in the immediate neighborhood of the Varna cemetery, and the other tell settlements in northeast Bulgaria mostly have their own cemeteries. Chapman identifies the richest graves as being markers not only of individual wealth but also of the corporate prestige of lineage groups (Chapman 1991:165). Consequently, the considerable differ- ences between grave goods at the Varna cemetery are supposed to be the result of competition between elites (Chapman 1991:167; see also Hodder 1990: 77). Therefore, the emergence of social complexity during the Copper ‘Age in northeast Bulgaria is characterized by the competition of lineages and their capability to accumulate social power, that is, the control of certain Rethinking the Copper Age | 191 resources—especially the limited space and place of the tells—to achieve cul- tural goals (Chapman 1991:152). Chapman argues that the activities under- taken by regional lineages were mainly concentrated on getting the access and control over the alliances (1991:168). To summarize, all of the approaches presented above differ in attributing the richness of graves found at Varna to the bounded social entities, suppos- edly responsible for the existence of differently comprehended social “in- equalities.” However, what all of them have in common is their tendency to globalize and to extrapolate from the Varna finds. The intention of these attempts is to construct a great narrative by explicitly referring to the suppos- edly recognized nature of social inequality over space and time. This is an example of the well-known archaeological fascination with great events and ‘great histories (see Barthes 1977). Although some of these approaches provide full analysis and intriguing interpretations, they have failed to account for and theorize the uniqueness of the Varna finds. In order to overcome the obstacles of the very fragmented evidence concerning the whole region, some scholars constructed narrative bridges that are characteristic of homogeneity-oriented historians. Additionally, the approaches presented above treat society as a clearly bounded entity. They implicitly assume homological compression (see Giddens 1984:239), that is, a correlation between the stages of social evolution and the development of individual personality: stages of social evolution nec- essarily accompany the evolution of human personality. In other words, the human personality becomes more social, better developed psychologically, and able to effectively cope with challenges caused by processes in the crea~ tion of social complexity. It is a sort of dialectical play between a person as an individual and a person as a social actor. Finally, we can recognize in these approaches a normative illusion, that is, the inclination to identify superior power, treated here as given, and consequently characteristic of a bounded society as reflected in the very act of burying the dead in Varna. Population, Specialization, Exchange, and Communication in the “Varna Society” What we propose here is to look at the Varna phenomenon from the perspective that can, #5 Giddens (1984-244) noted, be labeled “episodic.” This will allow us to deal explicitly with the problem of regional modes of institutional articulation and with frameworks oftheir interaction with sup- posedly existing societal totalities. We suggest a more contextual approach to the data, not only on the level of analysis of material culture—which has been applied with good results by Lichardus and Chapman—but also to the inter- pretation of studied phenomena. We believe this perspective will enable us to look at the most important issues concerning the Varna phenomenon, mainly, the nature of social action, the character of interaction with the existing social environment, and the way in which that interaction should be conceptualized. Of similar importance are social reproduction and social transformation. There is a need to situate the phenomena within the context of the particular historic development of the region. 192 |P. F. Biehl and A. Marciniak We cannot describe and analyze all observable patterns emerging in the Copper Age of southeast Europe in this chapter, but some examples can be mentioned. We will focus on fundamental requirements of early complex s0- ciety that have been defined in previous research on hierarchization, that is, specialization and exchange and their manifestation in the archaeological rec- ords (eg., Brumfiel and Earle 1987). Additionally, we will analyze the popu- lation that creates and supports such complicated processes and the act of communication that is a prerequisite for them, In order to properly address these issues, we will start with the presentation of the population buried in Varna. Several archaeologists have already argued. that the Varna cemetery was not used exclusively by the inhabitants of a sin- gle settlement but more likely served several local communities of an unspeci- fied scale (Ivanov 1991; Lichardus 1991c; Renfrew 1978a). Renfrew (1978a:201) proposed that Varna was a place holding the elite of a larger region. ‘One effective method of testing this hypothesis is using anthropological paleodemography (see Marciniak 1995). However, the possibility of effective use of skeletal materials from the Varna cemetery is restricted by the unsatis- factory condition of the published data. Not all data on skeletal remains from Varna have been published in detail. For example, the analysis of skeletal data from the part of the cemetery that was identified by Lichardus (see Lichardus 1991¢:167) as the core part of the cemetery reveals that among the 36 graves, only half of them yield human skeletons or their fragments (Ivanov 1991:131- 149). Only in 11 of them was it possible to estimate the age and sex of the individuals buried. It is striking that all individuals buried in the core part of, the Varna cemetery are males aged 15 to 50. Three 15-19-year-olds died, three 20-29-year-olds, three from 30 to 39, and two from 40 to 49. ‘The biological characteristics of human population can be described by the value of the parameter ez from the death table (see Acsddi and Nemeskéri 1970; Hassan 1981). This calculation defines the life expectation of a 20-year- old individual and describes briefly the demographic situation of a group by measuring its reproductive success in a given environment. For the Varna cemetery’s core part, this value is extremely low—only 6.3 years. It is more than two times less than the lowest observable values of this parameter for other European Neolithic and the Copper Age populations (see Marciniak 1992; Piontek and Marciniak 1990; Figure 9-4). The e°x9 value for individuals buried in the ceremonial circle, however, was estimated on the basis of very scarce material that does not fulfill the statistical requirements of this kind of analysis. Yet, a similar value of the €%99 parameter (6.45) could be calculated on the basis of male skeletons from the Marinov and Yordanov publication (Marinov and Yordanov 1978). Again, the interpretation of this value is very difficult since the authors do not describe from which part of the cemetery they have analyzed their data. The detailed analysis of this publication, how- ever, reveals that at least 8 graves of the core part have been included in their sample. This calculation fulfills the criteria of statistical analysis because this, last sample has more than the 25 skeletons required for such analysis. A look at this data makes it clear that we are not dealing with a population characterized by completeness; thus, the cemetery population cannot be un- Rethinking the Copper Age | 193, Polen Langs 0 3s % Carpathian Basin. sexonya anemia Ueaine Trangia Figure 9-4. The value of parameter 9 from the death table of the Neolithic and Early Copper Age populations from central (after Piontek and Marciniak 1990:39) and southeast Europe. derstood as being representative of the living population (Marciniak 1995:111; Neustupny 1983:21-30). Instead, we deal here with a group of individuals, ‘whose composition is caused by cultural variables composed of various burial rules. Therefore, we might be able to predict that other fractions of the popu- lation were buried outside the Varna cemetery and that only a small group of a presumably greater community were buried in Varna. We must therefore investigate the cultural and social factors that could have led to the “selection” of the individuals buried and look for patterns In some other areas of southeastern Europe, we can observe the emergence of large cemeteries associated, in some cases, with settlement dispersal in the second half of the fourth millennium B.C. One of the best known is the ceme- tery of Tiszapolgér-Basatanya, near the Tisza River in the northem part of the Hungarian plain (Bognar-Kutzian 1963). The layout of the cemetery seems to be planned. The graves are set in rows, and they share a common orientation. Burials were made over many generations, maybe over centuries. The emer- gence of separate cemeteries is also a characteristic feature of the Vinéa cul- ture. One is located in the unoccupied part of the site of Gomolava, while the other is in Botos in northern Serbia; both are separated from any settlement (Chapman 1991). At the same time, a tradition of putting a limited number of separate graves, most of which contain single skeletons, outside settlements 194 | P. F. Biehl and A, Marciniak also exists. This is reminiscent of mortuary practices in the Early Neolithic (Chapman 1990; Todorova 1978, 1988). The separate graves sometimes create small cemeteries made up of no more than 50 graves as, for example, we see at the 45-grave cemetery in Vinica (Raduncheva 1976). All of these burial places held only a very small percentage of the whole population (Whittle 1996.95). ‘The second element that could indicate a social differentiation within the community is specialization. It is a matter of accepted fact that the acquisition and transport of ore and the production of high-quality copper and gold arti- facts can clearly be seen in the Vama society. It was while the cemetery existed that mines like Rudna Glava in Serbia and Ai Bunar in Bulgaria were system- atically exploited for the first time (Chernykh 1991, 1992; Lichardus 1991b). We find the end products of a long process in the rich Varna graves with whole sets of heavy copper tools and jewelry. The copper of these two mines can be found as far as the Northpontic steppes and shows the wide network of exchange, trade, and especially communication that existed (Chernykh 1991; Lichardus 1991b). Although copper was known and used much earlier, a con- stant and increasing supply and manufacture can only be observed from the fourth millennium B.C. Most interestingly, spectral-analytical analyses prove that the copper tools in the Varna graves have never been used and were most likely instruments of display, a sign of social power. We see a similar pattern in the cemetery pottery. With the exception of the famous “golden vessel,” all other pottery is very poorly made and fired and cannot be compared with the highly sophisticated pottery of the settlements. We can assume that the pot- tery was only made for the burial and had never been used functionally. We can make a similar interpretation for the long, thin, silex blades found in the Varna graves. The blades have no traces of any usage and were not considered functional. To summarize, we have in Varna evidence for “ceremonial” artifacts, which, like the pottery, were made only for the dead. Additionally, we have artifacts for a limited group of individuals, which look like functional tools or blades but which were most likely only symbols to display social power. We have to stress that the social power of these artifacts was reinforced through the act of specialization. For the first time, large amounts of copper and flint were systematically mined. Analysis shows that the long silex blades were made of mined, not surface, silex (Chernykh 1991; Lichardus 1991b). The copper tools were also cast by specialists in or close to the settlements where they were used. We find, however, the most striking form of specialization in the gold production of Varna. Previous research has tried to argue that gold had been known well before the “Varna culture.” This hypothesis is flawed because the cold-hammered gold objects that were distributed on a very lim- ited scale before Varna cannot be compared with the systematic exploitation, trade, production, and use of gold represented by Varna, Furthermore, recent analyses of the gold of the Varna cemetery proves that the items in the Varna graves were cast (Echt et al. 1991) and not hammered as previously believed (Chapman 1991; Renfrew 1986). Another analysis shows that the Varna gold came mainly from two different sources. The first kind of gold came from nearby rivers, but the second could only have been found in the Northpontic Rethinking the Copper Age | 195 steppe (Hartmann 1978; Lichardus 1991a); that is, this sort of gold had to be exchanged or traded at a long distance, yet another indicator of specialization. Long-distance trade cannot be reconstructed only through gold and copper but also through the jewelry of Spondylus and through the Dentalium shells, thousands of which were found in the Varna graves. These sorts of seashells can be found only in the Aegean Sea. Whether acquired by boat over the Black Sea—as some researchers suggest (see Frey 1991)—or following the River Maritsa or the River Struma southward, this material must have been of great value for the Varna society. An illustration of this great value might be the repair of a Spondylus bracelet by attaching two pieces of gold around the broken parts (see Ivanov 1988:9, 59) ‘The last aspect we would like to examine is the act of communication. Evi- dence of a communication system in the second half of the fourth millennium B.C. can be indirectly seen through the exchange and trade of raw material, such as copper, gold, Spondylus, and Dentalium, over great distances. Such trade implies three things: that certain people knew how to exploit their natu- ral resources, that some were sufficiently specialized to produce quality items desired by others, and that they developed a method of presenting what they wanted to trade and exchange with others, In addition to this functional- economic communication system, there is evidence of a much broader and more profound symbolic communication system. The system was connected to the socioreligious aspects of the Varna society and joined inhabitants through shared ideas, beliefs, and cult practices. In trying to understand how this system worked, we must focus on two key elements: transmission and transformation. The first element consists of the dissemination of rules of production for various categories of artifacts as well as rules about their intended use. That is, there must have been some sort of “code,” or system, telling the makers to produce a category of artifacts in a certain way. Once the artifacts were formed and finished, something ex- plained to the users what to do with them. Thus, the second element has to do ‘with how the code was used and passed on (see Barrett 1994:75). We cannot expect that a code—for example, how to make and use an anthropomorphic figurine—was understood in precisely the same manner by those who re- ceived it as by those who produced and exchanged it. In the transfer, the code may have been transformed. The best way to better understand such a process is by considering an ex- ample. We have chosen the anthropomorphic bone figurines in the symbolic graves of the Varna cemetery (Figure 9-5). Recent analyses have shown that the figurines of the fourth millennium B.C. of southeast Europe are not repre- sentations of gods or goddesses—as had been claimed previously by most researchers—but abstractions of human beings as a part of a ritual to express, somehow capture, and possibly better understand life's most pivotal moments, such as birth, the need for food, and death. This ritual was part of a complex belief system in which transformation and destruction played a key role. It was performed and expressed in figurine gestures and masks and by the de- liberate breakage of the figurines. At the end of this ritual, the broken parts of the figurines were separated from the domestic sphere (Biehl 1996a, 1996b, 196 |P. F. Biehl and A. Marciniak Figure 9-5. Anthropomorphic bone figurines: (2, 2, 3) Ruse: (4) Golyamo Deléevo; (5) Oltenita-Renie; (6) Varna; (7) Gumelnita (after Berciu 1962; Comsa 1977; Georgiev and Angelov 1957; Ivanov 1988; Todorova et al. 1975). Rethinking the Copper Age | 197 1997, 2000). The production of figurines follows a long tradition in three- dimensional human representation in clay that began during the Early Neo- lithic in southeast Europe. In terms of both quantity and quality, the climax, of these representations certainly occurred during the second half of the fourth millennium B.C. in southeast Europe. It is not surprising that during this time period bone appeared as a new medium (Biehl 1997). Despite basic similarities in the abstraction of a human being, the bone figurines probably did not possess the same active functions—gestures, symbols, and/or ritual destruc tion—as the clay figurines (Biehl 1996a, 1997), Rather, they seem to be “signs” referring to the “actions” represented through or made by the clay figurines. When wom on an individual's chest, attached to the clothing, or hung on a house wall or wooden pole, these signs may have labeled this person or fam- ily as believing in a certain abstract idea or belonging to a cult. Since these three-dimensional human representations are almost exclusively found in the space of the living rather than in the burial zone of the dead, we have to as- sume that they had an active function in the domestic sphere (Biehl 1996a, 1997), Strangely, the Varna cemetery is the only place known to date where bone figurines were found in the burial zone. These anthropomorphic figurines were made of the metacarpus of cattle, which explains their convex curvature and their length up to 25 cm (Figure 9-5). They represent the human body and head in a very abstract way, show no facial details or extremities, and are never decorated. The holes in the heads and bodies were most likely made 50 that they could be attached to clothing or hung on a house walll or pole. De- spite their very abstract form, a contextual attribute analysis could demon- strate that they have strong similarities to more detailed three-dimensional human representations in bone and clay (Bieh! 2000). ‘After Ivanov, they occur at the Varna cemetery only in the symbolic graves (Ivanov 1991:127). Again, the limited amount of published material regarding the Varna cemetery graves does not allow a conclusive analysis and interpre- tation; however, some inferences can be made. A closer look at the publica- tions reveals that despite the small number of published graves, almost all symbolic graves contained one anthropomorphic figurine (Figure 9-6). The published symbolic graves without a figurine (see Ivanov 1991:145-146; graves 03, 06, 07, 08, 011, and 056) belong to Ivanov's third category of sym- bolic graves, which is characterized by less rich grave goods. Interestingly, with the exception of grave 53, the grave pits were not deeper than 0.5 m. This could be a reflection of the amount of work and effort put into the construc- tion of these graves. Moreover, the excavator was, for the most part, unable to recognize where the grave pits ended. Some figurines may have been missed and may not have been conserved (Ivanov 1991:145-146). Nevertheless, it can be stated that the figurines were most likely connected with a certain ritual regarding the symbolic graves and could not be placed in the grave with the dead. In the published work, there is a second pattern in- volving how grave goods were combined with figurines in the symbolic graves (Table 9-2). The bone figurine was placed with gold artifacts, copper “tools,” long silex blades, and Dentalium shells. According to Ivanov (1991: 198 |P. F Biehl and A. Marciniak 90 80 60 | msg 50 + Gex-b 40 + mcrb 30 4 mdeg Number Published Figurines Figure 9-6. Bar chart showing the total number of graves at the Varna cemetery (Number), number of published graves (Published), and number of graves with figurines (Figurines): s-g = symbolic graves; ex-b = burial in extended position; cr-b = burial in crouched Position; de-g = destroyed grave. 130), these objects only occur in symbolic graves. Symbolic graves also con- tained ceramic or marble pots. Additionally, a spinning tool, copper jewelry, and stone and other bone artifacts could be placed in the grave. It should be mentioned that one figurine in grave 3 is made of marble. Still, the convex cur- vature imitates the metacarpus bone (see Figures 27 and 73 in Ivanov 1988:57, 125). Most important, it has to be stressed that only one figurine could be placed in each grave. Finally, it has to be mentioned that the three clay masks in the so-called mask graves represent a further relation to a ritual that is normally expressed using figurines in the domestic sphere. On the basis of a contextual attribute analysis, it has been shown that, for example, the golden “nails” under the mouth of the Varna masks (Figure 9-3) can also be found as a figurative deco- ration under the mouth of numerous clay and bone figurines in the Kodzadermen-Gumelnita-Karanovo VI culture complex (Biehl 1996a, 1997, 2000). The same comparisons can be made between abstract facial elements, ear holes, and ear rings, and even with pendants that are represented both on. the masks in the mask graves at Varna and in the clay and bone figurines (Biehl 1996a, 2000). ‘We would argue that the symbolic graves at the Varna cemetery were part of the same transformation and destruction ritual that has been described for the clay figurines. The purpose was to somehow capture and possibly better understand the most pivotal moments and changes in life. The purpose was expressed through the creation of abstract representations of human beings by Rethinking the Copper Age | 199 x x x x x x x x x . x x x x x x x x s x x x x x x x x x x x x x s spufuy —sionfray —Rajamal od OL ‘sd s1reus epg S100, Ufa aunty “ON aatUD, aug aways salle gam Sumuds wee wanmeniag ns Su] “edo FOO adh pofnay daquuny aamis hig saanssy ay0quuhs wu spoog Rawn yoy 2-6 142. 200|P. F. Biehl and A. Marciniak way of figurines and masks. Such a ritual was known and practiced in the whole Kodzadermen-Gumelnita-Karanovo VI culture complex during the Early Copper Age, and it provides strong evidence that a symbolic communi- cation system existed and was the means through which rituals were dissemi- nated and passed on. But, again, the peculiarity of Varna is that it is the only known location where figurines were placed in symbolic graves, thus connecting them with the zone of the dead rather than attaching them to the domestic context of the living, as was done everywhere else in southeast Europe. Even the symbolic graves show the same strong pattern of regionalized peculiarity. Although other cemeteries show symbolic graves—as we have mentioned earlier— cultural and social factors have prevented their societies from acting and per- forming in the same way as the Varna society. In summary, we would like to stress that during the Early Copper Age in southeast Europe a communication system emerged that was not only char- acterized by the economic exchange and the long-distance trade of functional artifacts but also by the societal exchange of ideas, beliefs, and cult practices. The Construction of Hierarchy: An Interpretive Approach to Social Complexity We will now look at the Varna cemetery as a setting in which s0- cial actors engaged in meaningful communicative acts (Giddens 1984:xxv). It was a place “in action,” influenced and modified by regular encounters be- tween community members. It was, therefore, dynamic and in the continuous process of constituting and reconfiguring itself. The Varna society may repre- sent the kind of “inter-societal system” Giddens describes (1984:xxvii). He argues that all societies thrive on the interaction between multiple social entities, Such multiplicity engenders diverse connections and creates particular social occurrences (see Giddens 1984:164). The occurrences are only significant if those within the society understand them and respond to them in an appropriate manner. Understanding is acquired and perpetuated through communicative chains (Giddens 1984:251). But to examine how these chains functioned, we have to look at them on a regional level, that is, as they were conceived in a particular time and space. This regionalization cannot be liken- ed to bounded societies as described by Bender (1990:253). Any changes in the chains must be examined closely, as they may indicate how new “authorita- tive resources’ (defined by Giddens as ideological means) lead to a new belief and value system by enabling the “mobilization” of various resources that potentially existed in southeast Europe. The authoritative resources generated a new concept of the mortuary place, ritual practice, and technology, as well as the introduction of new commodities such as copper and gold. The value of gold, for example, arose from its social context and usage and helped achieve social ends. It has to be stressed that the systematically organized acquisition of gold, copper, and Spondylus that occurred at Varna in the second half of the fourth millennium B.C. was the result of the society’s ability to mobilize its Rethinking the Copper Age |201 “allocative” resources (defined by Giddens 1984 as technological means) ina highly effective manner. Varna was unique because, for a short period of time, it achieved a remarkable balance between its authoritative and allocative resources. ‘The point at which all elements began to converge and work together to create the Varna phenomenon cannot be regarded as a “critical threshold” in the socioeconomic and religious-ideological development of this region. To find this point, we must look beyond the introduction and the intensive use of gold and copper (Giddens 1984:246). The change occurred much earlier and was the result of various socioeconomic, religious-ideological, and demo- graphic-environmental factors in the region. As for the creation of the ceme- tery, and the question of why it arose when it did and why it suddenly took ‘on such importance in the society, we must look at how it was conceived by those who constructed it. If we do that, we see that it was the whole community, not just specific parts of it such as household or lineage, that was responsible for the Vana phe- nomenon (Chapman 1990, 1991; Renfrew 1986). The community should not be understood in a normative way but as a social grouping that shared the same space and created a common values system and general identity (Whittle 1996:121). They also structured a habitus, or as Bourdieu defines it, “the dura- bly installed generative principle of regulated improvisations” (1977.78). The habitus, based on mutual understanding of common principles and practices, fostered a shared conception of the world. Eventually, this led to the creation of a communication system that involved a shared past and common beliefs, and ancestry. Communication connected communities of this region, and the ‘Varna cemetery played a central role in it. It not only acted as a symbolic and central location but also as a means of conceptual unity. This was necessary as the society was in continual flux, with the underlying beliefs constantly chal- enged and reworked (Thomas 1996:53). The changes can be seen in material culture. The Varna cemetery eventually became so important that the whole region began to draw its identity from it. It became a “cultural object” that “incorporated an extended form of signification” (Giddens 1984:100). There- fore, it became an important means of restructuring the habitus on a constant basis. ‘Now that we have established Varna as a place, we will tum our attention to the funeral rites practiced there. As was mentioned earlier, the emergence of separate cemeteries is a characteristic feature of cultural development in southeast Europe in the fourth millennium B.C. The nature of mortuary prac- tices is important in this respect. The mortuary rites consist of both funerary and ancestry components. The paraphernalia accompanying the dead must first be conceived as a part of the funeral ritual rather than as an indicator of wealth and status, as is often presumed. The ritual may have been a way of invoking the conceptual framework within which the group lived their lives. This differs from the conception that ritual always reflected preexisting rules, norms, and beliefs (O’Shea 1996:7-16). The mortuary practices may not di- rectly reflect the way a society was organized and how its ideology func- tioned. Rather, they serve as a means of establishing relationships between 202 |P. F. Biehl and A. Marciniak people as they made the transformation from life to death (Barrett 1994:87-88). ‘Through this deep bond, individuals were connected and group identity was solidified ‘The Varna cemetery has to be seen as a setting to express and create collec- tive social identity, not a place in which individuals were honored according. to their status during life. An interpretation of the symbolic graves suggests, that “wealth” may not have been deposited for personal accumulation or ri- valry (Whittle 1996) but for communal social and religious ends. The excep- tional grave goods at Varna do not appear to have been used as a means of reinforcing existing social order. Rather, they were probably made exclusively for funeral rites and were “offered” by the community as a way of reinforcing, ties between the dead person and the community, among members of the community overall, and between the community and the supernatural. Ar- chaeological literature often speaks of artifacts that indicate domination and other social tensions. But what are these artifacts, and why do we automati- cally assume that they functioned as symbols of prestige and status indicating domination? We believe that the practices occurring at Varna were an exam- ple of “play” with power and domination rather than a real imposition of power and domination. A real imposition of power and domination would have meant that individuals had articulated roles and positions from which their power emanated. This would have required individuals and/or social ips to possess different social and economic positions that operated at household and community levels as well as at a regional level We would argue that this was not the case in the Varna society and will briefly summarize our arguments based on the archaeological record, Firtly, there is no evidence for a settlement hierarchy in the region (Whittle 1996:89-96). The houses’ forms, construction, and sizes are typical for the time period and region and show nothing to indicate an exceptional settlement layout that might be an indication of individual wealth and higher status within the community. The number of houses does not seem to have increased significantly over time, an indication that there was not a population aggregation, We also do'not observe extensive fortifications to indicate that it was considered a central place in the region. There are no indications of monumental or ceremonial buildings or places within the settlements that would suggest ceremonial or religious organization. The rituals practiced in the region do not seem to have involved any sort of theocratic elite. On the contrary, transformation and destruction rituals were performed with figurines and took place on an individual level, within the confines of a single household. The figurines were made by members of each household, not by a specialist or religious figure. ‘Secondly, we can infer from the archaeological record, which shows no change in subsistence technology, that there was probably not a significant ag- ricultural surplus. Although the tell settlements were used over centuries, hiatuses indicate that the settlements were abandoned and reoccupied on a regular basis. This was most likely due to the exhaustion of the soil as recent research suggests (Lichardus et al. 1989, 1996). Although there are theories suggesting that a place/land tenure existed within the tell settlements, con- vvincing analysis based on the archaeological record is still lacking. Rethinking the Copper Age | 203, The consistent movement of the people, and hence the discontinuity of the settlement, makes these theories rather unlikely. Thirdly, demographic analy- sis shows neither a population increase nor a population aggregation; the overall population structure remained stable. The existence of a single child’s grave containing extraordinary grave goods has been taken as a sign that ‘wealth and status were hereditary. But this idea is highly speculative as the evidence is only found in one grave; the other graves do not show the same pattern. Finally, specialized technologies, such as metallurgy and flint mining, and the long-distance trade of raw material and high-quality products involved differentiation within the community. This could have lead to some sort of ranking, But in the Varna society there is no evidence for an extensive and controlled exchange network or trading system that could have established positions of individual power and wealth, nor is there evidence for a transport system sufficient enough to move a large amount of goods. Copper, gold, and Spondylus were found in graves, not in settlements, indicating that their value ‘was social and religious-ideological, not economic and practical. We have al- ‘most no evidence of metal hoards and can assume that, unlike in the Late Bronze Age, metal storage had practically no importance. However, both the copper tools and the gold ornaments that were found at the Vana cemetery could indicate a socioeconomic shift toward segmentation of the society. But the tools and ornaments were never “in use” in the domestic sphere and most likely were not owned by the individual with whom they were buried. Rather, they were created by the community and functioned as a means for the society to enact its cultural identity at the Varna cemetery. Overall, we believe that in the Varna society both allocative and authoritative resources were used to represent social power in a ritualized and symbolic way, not in a managerial and hierarchical way. ‘One could argue that the Varna community shows some resemblance to a “corporate group” as defined by Feinman (1995). Such groups are character- ized as having sequential-ritual hierarchies (Feinman 1995:266) and a some- what egalitarian character in which ritual and elaborate ceremonies play a crucial role in the integration of social segments. Individual interests are sub- ordinated to group success through large public rituals, cooperative labor, and similar mechanisms of integration (see also Feinman, Chapter 8, this volume). ‘We believe that this was the case in Varna, at least to some extent. There were no clearly distinguished segments or individuals of the community who could have benefited from the “hierarchical” mortuary practices at the cost of other segments and /or individuals. According to this argument, the male body and exceptional fumishings found in grave 43 were part ofa complex tual and symbolic practice. The practice was not designed to mark the grave as one belonging to the “chief” or “big man” of the communities in the Varna region but to Fulfill social obligations. It was, therefore, the entire community, not just certain individuals, that “benefited” from the accumulated copper and gold ‘wealth in the Varna region. It was also the entire community that incorporated ‘what appears to be wealth and status into its cultural identity. The stability and extraordinary richness of the society permeated daily life and even seeped into practices involving the dead. 204. F. Biehl and A, Marciniak Eventually, the society developed a new system of mortuary practices, re- plete with complex symbolism and rituals. These practices were solidified by the construction of the cemetery. The community relied on the cemetery and the rituals attached to it as a conceptual framework through which they de- fined themselves and found the strength to cope with the changes that altered the social environment of southeast Europe during the second half of the fourth millennium B.C. In the end, the Varna society was not able to guard its social stability very long. The archaeological evidence clearly indicates a disintegration of its allo- cative and authoritative resources. The disintegration seems to have happened very suddenly and is well documented archaeologically. This quick demise has allowed us to chart and reconstruct archaeologically the unique and high- ly episodic character of the Varna phenomenon. The “process of collapse” of the Varna society at the end of the Early Copper Age in southeast Europe is another interesting topic, but it is beyond the scope of this chapter. We may presume that the emergence of the Varna cemetery was used to “construct” the cultural identity of the communities that used it. It was only effective for a short period of time and was later replaced by a new set of social phenomena. Conclusions In summary, in this essay we have focused on reevaluating the concept of social complexity and hierarchy in a prehistoric society without ‘traces of urbanization or statehood. Our first step was to deconstruct theories that the social sphere of prehistoric communities were clearly defined, bound- ed entities with articulated institutions, roles, and positions. Then, on the basis of convincing analysis of material culture from the Varna cemetery and re- gion, we proposed viewing the construction of the social sphere as a dynamic process in which all available resources in a particular region and time were mobilized to define and display a community's identity. The unparalleled ‘material culture of the Varna cemetery makes it a prime example of this prac- tice. Despite the uniqueness of the Varna grave goods, which is discussed and theorized throughout the essay, a similar process may be seen in other ceme- teries of the Copper Age in southeast Europe as well as in other parts of Europe. While not as obvious and striking as in Varna, those cemeteries might provide additional insight into the significance of mortuary practices in the Early Copper Age. They may also help demonstrate our thesis that hierarchy did not always evolve in order to benefit individuals but also to enact communal identities. 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