The role of Rapa Nui (Easter Island)

statuary as territorial boundary markers

Britton L. Shepardson∗

A new survey and spatial analysis enables the author to argue that inland examples of Easter
Island’s famous stone statues were not in transport to the coast but mark out ancient territories
proposed by ethnologist Katherine Routledge in 1919.
Keywords: Easter Island, statues, tracks, spatial analysis, territories

Introduction

Method
Polynesia’s easternmost landmass, Rapa Nui (Easter Island), has attracted archaeological
interest for more than a century. Although territoriality and monumental statuary have
been addressed extensively in the past, spatial analysis of a new survey of 702 moai (statues)
on the island offers a new insight into a possible role the statues may have played in the
island’s prehistory. Previous research interpreted the statues’ significance largely through
the context of ceremonial centres including ahu (platforms) upon which some statues once
stood. In contrast, the analysis presented here is based primarily on the spatial locations of the
statues.
Recently, Stevenson (2002) has suggested the potential role of ahu in marking territorial
boundaries. Stevenson’s territorial divisions were derived from statistical analyses of formal
variability in ahu design and preconceived notions about territorial divisions in Polynesian
islands. In contrast, the analysis presented here identifies a strong correlation between
an inland subgroup of the surveyed statues and territorial boundaries already established
historically by ethnologist Katherine Routledge ninety years ago. While imprecision in
Routledge’s work renders rigorous statistical testing difficult, the correlations observed oblige
us to consider their implications in future research.

The statues: interpretation and classification

Extensive archaeological investigation has made the moai of Rapa Nui one of the most
recognisable collections of artefacts throughout the world. Fieldwork regarding the statues
began more than a century ago, and is still underway. Descriptive studies have attempted
to thoroughly document the statues on the island and those in overseas museums (e.g.
Englert n.d.; Routledge 1919; Sepulveda et al. 1991; Thompson 1891; Van Tilburg 1986).
Accumulated data suggest that more than 1000 statues were constructed in prehistory (Liller
1993).
∗
Department of Anthropology, University of Hawai‘i at Manoa, 346 Saunders Hall, 2424 Maile Way, Honolulu,
HI 96822, USA (Email: bleif@hawaii.edu)
Received: 16 March 2004; Accepted: 18 May 2004; Revised: 8 June 2004
antiquity 79 (2005): 169–178
169
 Easter Island statuary as territorial boundary markers

Figure 1. Ethnohistoric territorial divisions and statue transport routes recorded by Routledge (1919) and georectified here
to fit a more accurate map. Quarry area as designated by Cristino et al. (1981).

Some statues, particularly those located along the coast, were erected upon ahu until
early historic times. Subsequently, however, all statues that were once upon ahu have fallen.
Evidence remains unclear as to whether the statues were purposefully toppled by islanders
amidst social upheaval or if they fell due to natural causes such as earthquakes (see Edwards
et al. 1996). The vast majority of all statues (96 per cent) were carved from the tufa slopes of
the Rano Raraku volcanic crater in the southeastern part of the island (Figure 1). However,
a small number of basalt, scoria and trachyte statues were also fashioned outside of the Rano
Raraku quarry.
Based on the most extensive research ever completed on the statues, Routledge (1919) and
Van Tilburg (1986, 1994) have focused on various aesthetic styles in the moai. Their field
research has produced no shortage of interpretations regarding the megaliths. Perhaps most
abundant are interpretations of the moai in terms of symbolic and cosmological significance
(e.g. Bahn 1993; Raphael 1988; Van Tilburg 1986, 1994). Some studies have identified a
phallic appearance in the moai (Raphael 1988; Van Tilburg 1994), and Van Tilburg has
associated this sexual imagery with the concept of fertility.
Upon consideration of ideological values in the island’s prehistory, Van Tilburg (1994)
has suggested that the moai played an important role protruding directly upwards from the
earth to the sky – connecting the living world with the spiritual world. On a more mundane
level, Bahn (1993: 84) and others have suggested that the rate of moai construction escalated

170
 B.L. Shepardson

over time with kin groups ‘trying to outdo their neighbours in the scale and grandeur of
their religious centers and ancestor figures’, as a possible indication of relative competitive
ability.
Sahlins (1955) proposed an intriguing adaptationalist hypothesis for the abundance
of moai on Rapa Nui, and recently archaeologists have begun to suggest evolutionary
explanations for the persistence and variability of the moai in Rapa Nui prehistory (e.g.
Graves & Ladefoged 1995; Graves & Sweeney 1993; Hunt & Lipo 2002; Shepardson
2002), adding yet another perspective in the interpretation of Rapa Nui statuary.
However, an overwhelming concentration on the prehistoric ceremonial role of statues
has led to a distinction between those statues that still reside in the quarry, none of which
are associated with ceremonial ahu sites, and those statues that reside near the coast, of
which more than 90 per cent are associated with ceremonial ahu sites. Those statues that are
neither at the quarry nor on the coast are treated as a default category and termed ‘isolated
statues’ (Routledge 1919), ‘intermediate’ or ‘in transport’ (Van Tilburg 1986).
‘Intermediate’ statues, as a result, have assumed a low priority in archaeological investi-

Method
gation of the moai. And unfortunately, the role or significance of these ‘intermediate’ statues
in prehistoric times seems to fade as a result of our terminology and interests. Whether these
‘intermediate’ statues were in transport or in more permanent locations is a question that
cannot be easily answered through archaeological inquiry. However, analysing statues in the
context of the island’s natural geography (i.e. quarry source, coastline and island interior)
rather than ahu reveals conspicuous correlations that imply one role that ‘intermediate’
statues may have played for some time in Rapa Nui prehistory.

Ethnohistoric territorial boundaries on Rapa Nui

Studies suggesting that the locations of ahu and their associated moai are in some manner
related to prehistoric territorial divisions on the island are most relevant to the spatial
analysis described in this article. Stevenson (2002) proposes that ahu of a particular style
define the coastal centre of each territory. Stevenson relied on cluster analyses of various ahu
to distinguish formal architectural attributes that characterised a particular subset of coastal
ceremonial or political centres. Territorial divisions were then drawn mid-distance between
these primary ahu locations. Stevenson further drew an arbitrary territorial boundary to
divide the northern half of the island from the southern half. Ultimately, the territories
determined by Stevenson are reminiscent of the territorial divisions proposed years before
by Kirch (1984). Kirch had previously suggested that ahu hosting moai marked the coastal
boundaries, rather than centres, of territories. Both Stevenson’s and Kirch’s territorial studies
infer, partly from analogy, that the island’s districts were divided radially from the centre, as
has commonly been found to be the case in other Polynesian islands.
Alternatively, there exists direct evidence for a very different territorial scheme than the
radial divisions Kirch and Stevenson suggested. In 1919, Routledge published a map of
social boundaries of Rapa Nui (see Figure 1). Routledge indicated that family relationships
divided the island into Ko Tu‘u (west) and Hotu Iti (east), but further divisions reflected
various lineages deriving from the sons of legendary founder Hotu Matua.

171
 Easter Island statuary as territorial boundary markers

Mapped boundaries published by Routledge (Figure 1) were not, to her knowledge (or
maybe even to the islanders’ knowledge at the time of her research), strictly defined and
therefore may have been approximations. Furthermore, she noted that at the time of her
stay on Rapa Nui, the islanders were free to move about, live in and even marry between any
territories. Recently, Stevenson (2002) questioned the significance of the territorial divisions
recorded by Routledge altogether. Stevenson concluded that if the territories documented
by Routledge ever served a meaningful role, it was in late historic times.

A new survey
Over a span of seven months (February to August of 2003) data on 702 moai were collected
and compiled by the author to create a GIS database. This paper reports a spatial analysis
of a subset of these moai. Statues are considered in terms of spatial variability, rather than
their association or lack of association with ceremonial ahu sites.
Reconnaissance and survey included more than sixty days, hiking more than 500km,
and documenting statue locations with a handheld GPS unit. Accuracy is within 6m at
all locations except in the immediate vicinity of Rano Raraku where topography interfered
with satellite signals, broadening the radius of error to as much as 20m. Additionally,
the author collected digital photographs, measurements of more than twenty formal
features of each statue, and a description of each statue’s resting position and longitudinal
orientation.
Of all statues recorded, more than 95 per cent were located either through extant
documentation (Cristino et al. 1981; Englert n.d.; Routledge 1919; Sepulveda et al. 1991;
Van Tilburg 1986) or by local informants and landowners across the island. Satellite imagery
provided by Carl Lipo of California State University, Long Beach provided a small number
of additional statue locations. And finally, the author surveyed several routes which had
no prior documentation of statue locations or indications of statues from satellite imagery.
These routes, without fail, ended in long days of hiking without any statue encounters.
No survey of prehistorically constructed statues can be complete due to exportation
of statues, erosion, buried statues, broken statues and statues that now reside as personal
property on the island. However, a data set of 702 statues deserves analysis. As in any
sampling process, the approach in data collection described here may have introduced
some bias, but the research also allows for verification through additional fieldwork in the
future.

Analysis
Previous studies have tended to dichotomise spatial variability of the statues – i.e. quarry/
non-quarry and ahu/non-ahu – and have focused explicitly on those at quarry sites and those
associated with coastal ahu sites (see Table 1 and Figure 2). Quarry statues include
those in the Rano Raraku zone and those in the region labelled ‘Scoria Quarry’ in Figure 2.
The Rano Raraku quarry zone designated by Cristino et al. (1981) (see Figure 1) is expanded
here based on the first major spatial break (a 700-m gap) between statues near the quarry
and their nearest neighbouring inland statues – including an additional twenty-six

172
 B.L. Shepardson

Table 1. Statues surveyed (702 total). Quarry statues defined spatially in Figure 2. Coastal and Inland
refer to statues outside of quarry zones
Quarry Coastal Inland

Ahu present 0 207 47

Ahu not present 391 15 42

Method
Figure 2. Statues surveyed by Shepardson in 2003 (702 total). Note the expanded quarry area for this analysis. Statue “M”
was clearly moved atop a modern rock cairn and has been ignored for further analysis. Some triangles and circles note a site
with more than one statue.

quarry statues (compare Figures 1 and 2). Seven hundred metres is an arbitrary figure
and can be altered without impacting the spatial analysis.
Classifying the surveyed statues using spatial parameters rather than the ahu context
allows us to concentrate directly on an important subset of statues without assuming they
were intended for ahu. Using a measure of 200m or more from the sea to define inland
regions, we find that 89 of the moai fall in the inland region of the island and still outside
the designated quarry zones (see Figure 2). Though the majority of these statues have been
labelled ‘in transport’, Routledge’s work along with the more recent field research of the
author, noted the presence of a large number of cobble- to boulder-sized stones residing
behind and beneath many of the inland statues. These stones may have been used to erect
the statues or to provide a level paving on which the statues stood. Routledge also noted

173
 Easter Island statuary as territorial boundary markers

Figure 3. Statue distribution and proposed territorial boundaries. Routledge’s (1919) easternmost territorial boundary from
Figure 1 has not yet been substantiated by an inland statue.

erosion patterns from rainfall on several inland statues that suggested they had been in a
standing position for an extended period of time. These details lend support to the notion
that many inland statues were not abandoned but rather erected at positions between the
quarry and coastal settlements.
Taking into consideration only the 89 inland statues, lines were drawn from one statue to
another (in most cases to the nearest inland statue) to derive Figure 3. All lines terminated
at the nearest moai residing at coastal ahu locations. The results of this process are striking.
Comparing Figure 1 with Figure 3, there is an apparent correspondence of many of the inland
moai with the ethnohistoric territorial divisions drawn by Routledge. The spatial analysis
suggests that at least some of the inland moai are correlated with those territorial boundaries.
Almost all of the remaining inland statues not accounted for by Routledge’s territorial
boundaries (including some statues within the extended quarry region in Figure 2) coincide
nicely with those features she determined to be moai transport routes (see Figure 4).
A number of observations follow from this analysis. First, referring to Figure 3, sites
marked by a star are inland ahu sites with multiple statues. The convergence of more than
two territorial boundaries is marked by an inland ahu with multiple statues in three out of five
cases. Second, there are still some inland statues, particularly those on the Poike Peninsula,
that appear to be unrelated to the territorial divisions or transport routes. These statues
remain unaccounted for. Third, the easternmost territorial division marked by Routledge in

174
 B.L. Shepardson

Method
Figure 4. Routledge’s (1919) statue transport routes and the distribution of inland statues from Figure 3 that were not
associated with the proposed territorial boundaries.

Figure 1 is not supported by the presence of any inland moai. In this case, and along other
stretches of territorial boundaries where large gaps occur, Routledge’s territorial boundaries
may help to determine where to search for more inland statues. And finally, the presence
of territorial markers between coastal territories and the ‘unclaimed’ central territory raises
some concern. Perhaps, unbeknownst to Routledge or her informants, this territory at one
time was claimed, or served as a region of communal resources.

Significance
The correlation between inland statue locations and recorded social boundaries is evident.
Stevenson (2002) suggests that Routledge’s divisions applied to a post-European-contact
geopolitical order. Prior to European contact and beginning at some point in the sixteenth
century, Stevenson proposes territories based on ahupua‘a (traditional Hawaiian territories
based on radial divisions of an island). To salvage Stevenson’s hypothesis as well as
Routledge’s, there are at least four possibilities. First, ethnohistoric boundaries may have
been contrived upon the locations of statues positioned centuries beforehand. Second,
statues were moved into place after Stevenson’s sixteenth century ahupua‘a scheme to form
the territories recorded by Routledge. Third, Stevenson’s scheme of territorial divisions needs
reconsideration, at least in its temporal placement. Or, fourth, and perhaps still in line with

175
 Easter Island statuary as territorial boundary markers

existing archaeological data and theory: Routledge’s ethnohistoric divisions pertained to a

geopolitical system prior to Stevenson’s proposed sixteenth-century scheme.
Evaluating the hypothesis that Routledge’s clan divisions came before rather than after
Stevenson’s scheme requires further research, especially in terms of statue chronology.
However, the hypothesis is at least plausible. Deforestation of the island prior to the
sixteenth century (see Flenley 1993) would probably have eliminated extensive transport
of statues following the collapse of Stevenson’s ahupua‘a scheme. Thus, statues associated
with or perhaps marking Routledge’s ethnohistoric divisions were likely in place prior to the
sixteenth century ahupua‘a scheme.
Presumably, deforestation was accompanied by a significant reduction in oceanic fishing as
lumber for seaworthy canoes would have become scarce or altogether unavailable. Following
Boone’s (1992) evolutionary ecological approach, an ahupua‘a scheme may have provided
the diversity of resources required once islanders were limited to exploitation of coastal and
terrestrial resources. Such territories may have been de facto or formally delimited by ahu as
Stevenson suggests. From that point forward, Routledge’s clan divisions may have become a
remnant of the islanders’ past, known vaguely, but not adhered to formally. Also, if the clan
divisions recorded by Routledge were of some relation to the family of the original settlers
of the island, it would be reasonable that this geopolitical scheme developed relatively early
in the historic sequence rather than more than half a millennium after settlement.
Rapa Nui’s prehistoric geopolitical structure, at this point, is open to different interpret-
ations. Territorial boundaries may have developed either early or late in prehistory and may
have been ephemeral and dynamic, or lasting and static. Either way, the patterns emerging
from a spatial analysis of inland statues demonstrate a strong correlation between statue
location and territorial boundary placement, obliging us to pursue research on territoriality
in prehistoric Rapa Nui. And while Stevenson has gone so far as to question the significance
of Routledge’s ethnohistoric boundaries, their correlation with statues suggests at least some
degree of formality and importance.

Conclusion
Rapa Nui statuary and its role(s) in a prehistoric context have been topics of continued
interest for more than a hundred years. As far as Routledge advanced in her research, she
did not propose the direct relationship between inland statues and her territorial divisions
exposed here. The statue survey and spatial analysis discussed here serve to both substantiate
and extend research conducted by Routledge nearly a century ago.
While the spatial analysis presented here does not account for all statues on the island,
the evidence strongly suggests a direct association between territorial boundaries and various
inland moai. Research in progress by Lipo and Hunt (this volume) may provide relevant
information on moai roads. And despite the ongoing efforts to thoroughly document the
megaliths of Rapa Nui, surely more will appear in the future that may or may not fall
in line with Routledge’s boundaries. Regardless, it is important that on an isolated and
diminutive island that has seen more than a century of investigation, we continue to explore
new avenues of archaeological research. The analysis presented here is based on spatial
distribution of statues, independent of ahu, and follows a landscape approach proposed for

176
 B.L. Shepardson

Pacific island research by Ladefoged and Graves (2002). The author’s research in progress
includes chronological analyses of the 702 surveyed statues that may shed more light on the
correlation between statues and territorial boundaries. In turn, the study of Rapa Nui ter-
ritoriality may provide insights for the study of territoriality elsewhere in Polynesia as well.

Acknowledgements
This research was made possible by support from the National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship
Program, the Museo Antropológico Padre Sebastian Englert, Francisco Torres Hochstetter, Verónica Vergara
Salvatierra, Claudia Peñafiel and Rogelio Paoa Montero. For comments on the first draft, I thank Ethan E.
Cochrane and Terry L. Hunt. For his patience, valued advising and comments on several earlier drafts, I thank
Michael W. Graves. And for unconditional encouragement in my research, I thank my parents Fred and Julia.
Responsibility for the views expressed here and all errors or omissions belong to the author alone.

References Hunt, T.L. & C.P. Lipo. 2001. Cultural elaboration

and environmental uncertainty in Polynesia. In
Bahn, P.G. 1993. The archaeology of the monolithic Pacific 2000: Proceedings of the fifth international
sculptures of Rapanui: a general review, in S.R.

Fischer (ed.). Easter Island studies: contributions to
the history of Rapa Nui in memory of William
T. Mulloy: 82-5. Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Boone, J.L. 1992. Competition, conflict, and the
development of social hierarchies, in E.A. Smith &
B. Winterhalder (ed.). Evolutionary ecology and
human behavior: 301-37. New York: Aldine de
Gruyter.
Cristino, C., P. Vargas & R. Izaurrieta. 1981. Atlas
Arqueológico de Isla de Pascua. Santiago: Facultad de
Arquitectura y Urbanismo, Instituto de Estudios,
Universidad de Chile.
Edwards, E., R. Marchetti, L. Dominichetti &
O. Gonzáles-Ferrán. 1996. When the earth
trembled, the statues fell. Rapa Nui Journal
10 (1): 1-15.
Englert, S. (n.d.) Unpublished field notes. Archived
material, Museo Antropológico Padre Sebastian
Englert, Easter Island.
Flenley, J. 1993. The paleoecology of Easter Island,
and its ecological disaster, in S.R. Fischer (ed.).
Easter Island studies: contributions to the history of
Rapa Nui in memory of William T. Mulloy: 27-45.
Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Graves, M.W. & T.N. Ladefoged. 1995. The
evolutionary significance of ceremonial architecture
in Polynesia, in P.A. Teltser (ed.). Evolutionary
archaeology: methodological issues: 149-74. Tucson:
University of Arizona Press.
Graves, M.W. & M. Sweeney. 1993. Ritual behaviour
and ceremonial structures in Eastern Polynesia:
changing perspectives on archaeological variability,
in M.W. Graves & R.C. Green (ed.). The evolution
and social organization of prehistoric society in
Polynesia: 102-21. Auckland: New Zealand
Archaeological Association Monograph 19.
Method
conference on Easter Island and the Pacific: 103-15.
Los Osos: Easter Island Foundation.
Kirch, P.V. 1984. Evolution of the Polynesian chiefdoms.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Ladefoged, T.N. & M.W. Graves (ed.). 2002. Pacific
landscapes: archaeological approaches. Los Osos:
Easter Island Foundation.
Liller, W. 1993. A survey and documentation of the
moai of Rapanui. In S.R. Fischer (ed.). Easter Island
studies: contributions to the history of Rapa Nui in
memory of William T. Mulloy: 86-8. Oxford: Oxbow
Books.
Lipo, C.P. & T.L. Hunt. 2005. Mapping prehistoric
statue roads on Easter Island. Antiquity 79: 158-68.
Raphael, M. 1988. Die monumentalität in der
bildhauerkunst am beispiel eines kopfes von der
Osterinsel, in M. Raphael (ed.). Temel, Kirchen und
Figuren: 462-526. Frankfurt: Suhrkamp.
Routledge, K. 1919. The mystery of Easter Island.
London: Hazell, Watson, and Viney.
Sahlins, M.D. 1955. Esoteric efflorescence in Easter
Island. American Anthropologist 57: 1045-52.
Sepulveda, F., R.I. San Juan, I.R. Kussner, L.G.
Nualart & P. Vargas. 1991. Teoria de las
Proporciones. Generación de la Forma y procesos de
Realización en la Escultura Megalı́tica de Isla de
Pascua Sistema de Medidas en el Diseño Pascuense.
Archived material, Museo Antropológico Padre
Sebastian Englert, Hanga Roa, Rapa Nui.
Shepardson, B.L. 2002. Temporal-spatial patterns of
energy investment in the statuary of Easter Island.
Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the Society
for American Archaeology, Denver, March 22.

177
 Easter Island statuary as territorial boundary markers

Stevenson, C.M. 2002. Territorial divisions on Easter
Island in the sixteenth century: evidence from the
distribution of ceremonial architecture, in T.N.
Ladefoged & M.W. Graves (ed.). Pacific landscapes:
Archaeological approaches: 213-29. Los Osos: Easter
Island Foundation.
Thompson, W.J. 1891. Te Pito de Henua, or Easter
Island. Annual Report: 447-552. Washington, DC:
Smithsonian Institution.
Van Tilburg, J.A. 1986. Power and Symbol: the Stylistic
Analysis of Easter Island Monolithic Sculpture.
Unpublished Ph.D. Thesis, Department of
Anthropology, University of California.
–1994. Easter Island: archaeology, ecology, and culture.
Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.

178