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Alternatives of Social Evolution

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CONTENTS
Preface to the Second Edition 3
Dmitri Bondarenko, Andrey V. Korotayev,
Nikolay N. Kradin,
I THEORIES OF SOCIAL EVOLUTION
1 Problems, Paradoxes, and Prospects of Evolutionism
Henri J.M.Claessen 9
2 Alternativity of Social Evolution: Introductory Notes
Andrey V. Korotayev, Nikolay N. Kradin,
Victor de Munck, and Valeri A. Lynsha 27
3 Process VS. Stages: A False Dichotomy in Tracing the Rise
of the State
Robert L. Carneiro 83
4 The Change of Non-Change: Evolution of Human Regimes
and the Structure of World History
Nikolai S. Rozov 95
5 Cultural Evolution: Systems and Meta-System
Alex Brown 129

6 East and West in History: A Short Abstract


Leonid S.Vasiliev 150
II PREHISTORIC EVOLUTION
7 Thoughts on the Evolution of Social Inequality:
A Paradigmatic Analysis
Ben Fitzhugh 165

8 Hunter-Gatherer Adaptations in Semi-Desert Areas


Alexander Kazankov 187
9 Hierarchy and Equality Among Hunter-Gatherers
of the North Pacific Rim:
Towards a Structural History of Social Organization
Peter P. Schweizer 197
10 Monopolization of Information and Social Inequality
Olga Yu. Artemova 211
11 Religion, Communication, and the Genesis of Social Com-
plexity in the European Neolithic
Paul K. Wason and Maximilian O. Baldia 221
III THE STATE FORMATION
12 On the Emergence of State
Aidan Southall 239
13 The Political Economy of Pristine State Formation
Charles S. Spencer 246

1
14 The Pristine Myth of the Pristine State in America
Richard P. Schaedel and David G. Robinson 265
15 Cyclical Transformations in North American Prehistory
Stephen A. Kowalewski 282
16 Early State in the Classic Maya Lowlands:
Epigraphic and Archaeological Evidence
Dmirti Beliaev 297
17 Some Aspects of the Formation of the State in Ancient
South Arabia
Mohammed Maraqten 309
IV ALTERNATIVES TO THE STATE
18 "Homologous Series" of Social Evolution and Alternatives
to the State in World History (An Introduction)
Dmitri Bondarenko 335
19 Once Again on Horizontal and Vertical Links in Structure
of the Middle Range Societies
Yuri E. Berezkin 346
20 The Stateless Polis: the Early State and the Ancient Greek
Community
Moshe Berent 353
21 The Chiefdom: Precursor of the Tribe? (Some Trends of
the Evolution of the Political Systems of the North-East
Yemen in the 1st And 2nd Millennia A.D.)
Andrey V. Korotayev 377
22 The Society of Raybūn
Sergey A. Frantsuzov 400
23 State and Administration in Kautilya`s "Arthashastra"
Dmitri N. Lelioukhine 412
V NOMADIC ALTERNATIVES
24 Nomadic Empires in Evolutionary Perspective
Nikolay N. Kradin 425

25 The Socio-Political Structure of the Pechenegs


Alexey V. Marey 450

26 Mongolian Nomadic Society of the Empire Period


Tatiana D. Skrynnikova 457

27 The Mangyt Biy as a Crowned Chief: Chiefdoms in the


Nomadic History of Late Medieval Western Eurasia
Vadim V. Trepavlov 469

List of Contributors 483

2
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

The notion of evolution is not popular in contemporary Anthropol-


ogy. Many researchers do not use it preferring to write about transforma-
tion, transit, or change. Evolution for them is synonymous to dogmatic un-
derstanding of human history (Yoffee 2005; Pauketat 2008). However,
even critics of evolutionism do not appear to reject= the very fact of con-
tinuous social change. In prehistory people were hunters and gatherers and
were integrated in small bands. Later some of them experienced sedentari-
zation and transition to food production, began to found towns and invent
complex tools. It would be ridiculous to reject such changes.
Another point is that contemporary vision of cultural transformations
differs greatly from the naïve ideas of the 19th century evolutionists (see,
e.g., Earle 2002; Claessen 2000; Carneiro 2003, Marcus 2008; Hanks, Lin-
duff 2009; Earle, Kristiansen 2010 etc.). Contemporary approaches are
more flexible and are based on a much more considerable set of evidence.
That is why it would be wrong to criticize the scholars of the past for their
knowledge of something worse than ours. They ought to be estimated in
comparison with their contemporaries. So, we believe that the notion of
evolution has a right to exist, and for already several decades we have been
elaborating the ideas that can be called “new wave evolutionism”, or multi-
evolutionism (non-linear evolution theory).
The first edition of the present volume was published over ten years
ago, in 2000, in two languages, English and Russian (under the
Альтернативные пути к цивилизации [Alternative pathways to the civi-
lization] title given by the publisher for commercial reasons). It was the re-
sponse of the then young generation of post-Soviet anthropologists in
league with prominent Western and Russian scholars to dogmatic Marxist
interpretations of older, Soviet ethnologists and archaeologists (see also
Korotayev, Chubarov 1991; Kradin, Lynsha 1995). Several other collective
edited volumes (Bondarenko, Korotayev 2000; Kradin, Bondarenko,
Barfield 2003; Grinin et al 2004; Bondarenko, Nemirovsky 2007; Grinin,
Beliaev, Korotayev 2008 etc.), monographs (Korotayev 1995; 1996; 2003;
Bondarenko 2001; 2006; Korotayev et al 2006; Kradin, Skrynnikova 2006;
Grinin 2007; Kradin 2007; 2010; Grinin, Korotayev 2009) and journal arti-

3
cles (Beliaev, Bondarenko, Korotayev 2001; Kradin 2002; Bondarenko,
Korotayev 2003; Bondarenko 2007a; 2007b) have appeared since then.
Five “Hierarchy and Power in the History of Civilizations” interna-
tional conferences held in Moscow and St. Petersburg between 2000 and
2009 turned out very important for elaboration of the non-linear socio-
cultural evolution theory.
The Social Evolution & History English-language journal published
in Russia since 2002 has become a venue for discussion of the non-linear
evolution theory, ideas and evidence related to it. In particular, besides an
impressive number of separate articles, the following special issues and
sections, among others, have been published in it: Exploring the Horizons
of Big History (2005, Vol. 4, No 1), Thirty Years of Early State Research
(2008, Vol. 7, No1), The Early State in Anthropological Theory (2009, Vol.
8, No 1), Analyses of Cultural Evolution (2009, Vol. 8, No 2), Urbaniza-
tion, Regional Diversity and the Problem of State Formation in Europe
(2010, Vol. 9, No 2). One more discussion, Chiefdoms in the process of so-
cial evolution: theory, problems and comparative studies, is to appear in
the Journal soon.
Alternatives of Social Evolution consists of five parts. The first part
includes theoretical studies of non-linear evolution. Articles on the alterna-
tive pathways of the prehistoric societies’ evolution form the volume’s sec-
ond part. The evolutionary pathways of complex societies and state origins
are the topics of the volume’s third and forth parts. The closing part is de-
voted to nomadic societies. We hope that the book has not lost its relevance
and will remain in demand by readers.

Dmitri M. Bondarenko,
Andrey V. Korotayev,
Nikolay N. Kradin

REFERENCES CITED
Beliaev, D.D., D.M.Bondarenko, A.V Korotayev. 2001. Origins and Evolution of
Chiefdoms. Reviews in Anthropology 30 (4): 373–395.
Bondarenko, D.M. 2001. Doimperskij Benin: formirovanie i evoljutsija sistemy sot-
sial'no-politicheskikh institutov [Pre-Imperial Benin: Formation and Evolution
of the Sociopolitical Institutions' System]. Moscow: Institute for African Studies
Press.

4
Bondarenko, D.M. 2007a. Approaching “Complexity” in Anthropology and Complex-
ity Studies: The Principles of Socio-political Organization and Prospects for
Bridging the Interdisciplinary Gap. Emergence: Complexity and Organization
9 (3): 55–67.
Bondarenko, D.M. 2007b. Homoarchy as a Principle of Sociopolitical Organization:
An Introduction. Anthropos 102 (1): 187–199.
Bondarenko, D.M., and A.V. Korotayev. 2000 (eds.). Civilizational Models of Polito-
genesis. Moscow: Center for Civilizational and Regional Studies of the Russian
Academy of Sciences.
Bondarenko, D.M., and A.V. Korotayev. 2003. “Early State” in Cross-Cultural Per-
spective: A Statistical Reanalysis of Henri J. M. Claessen’s Database. Cross-
Cultural Research. 37 (2): 105-132.
Bondarenko, D.M., and A.A. Nemirovskiy. 2007 (eds.). Alternativity in Cultural His-
tory: Heterarchy and Homoarchy as Evolutionary Trajectories. Moscow: Center
for Civilizational and Regional Studies Press.
Carneiro, R. 2003. Evolutionism in Cultural Anthropology: A Critical History. Boul-
der.
Claessen, H.J.M. 2000. Structural Change: Evolution and Evolutionism in Cultural
Anthropology. Leiden: Research School CNWS, Leiden University.
Earle, T. 2002. Bronze Age Economics: The Beginnings of Political Economies. Boul-
der, CO: Westview Press.
Earle, T. and K. Kristiansen. 2010 (eds.). Organizing Bronze Age Societies: The
Mediterranean, Central Europe, & Scandinavia Compared. Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press.
Grinin, L. E. 2007. Gosudarstvo i istoricheskiy protsess [State and Historical Process].
Vol. 1–3. Moscow: URSS.
Grinin, L.E., D.D. Beliaev, and A.V. Korotayev. 2008 (eds.). Hierarchy and Power in
the History of Civilizations: Ancient and Medieval Cultures. Moscow: Uchitel.
Grinin, L., R. Carneiro, D. Bondarenko, N. Kradin, and A. Korotayev. 2004 (eds.).
The Early State, its Alternatives and Analogues. Volgograd, Russia: Uchitel.
Grinin, L.E., and A.V. Korotayev. 2009. Sitsialnaia makroevolutsiia: Genesis i trans-
formatsiia Mir-Sistemy [Social macroevolution: Genesis and transformation of
World-System ]. Moscow: LIBROCOM.
Hanks, B., and K. Linduff. 2009 (eds.). Social Complexity in Prehistoric Eurasia:
Monuments, Metals and Mobility. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Korotayev, A.V. 1995. Ancient Yemen: Some General Trends of Evolution of the Sa-
baic Language and Sabaean Culture. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press.
Korotayev, A.V. 1996. Pre-Islamic Yemen: Socio-Political Organization of the Sabaean
Cultural Area in the 2nd and 3rd Centuries A.D. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz
Verlag.

5
Korotayev, A.V. 2003. Sotsial'naya evolutsiya: factory, zakonomernosti, tendentsii
[Social Evolution: Factors, Patterns, Tendencies]. Moscow: Vostochnaya litera-
tura.
Korotayev, A.V., and V.V. Chubarov. 1991 (eds.). Arkhaicheskoe obshchestvo:
Uzlovye problemy sotsiologii razvitiya [Archaic Society: Key Problems of Soci-
ology Development]. Vols. 1–2. Moscow: Institute of History of the USSR, the
USSR Academy of Sciences.
Korotayev, A., A. Malkov., and D. Khalturina. 2006. Introduction to Social Macro-
dynamics. Secular Cycles and Millennial Trends. Moscow: KomKniga.
Kradin, N.N. 2002. Nomadism, Evolution, and World-Systems: Pastoral Societies in
Theories of Historical Development. Journal of World-Systems Research 8(3):
368–388.
Kradin, N.N. 2007. Kochevniki Evrazii [Nomads of Eurasia]. Almaty: Daik-Press.
Kradin, N.N. 2010. Politicheskaya anthropologiia [Political Anthropology]. 3nd ed.
Moscow: Logos.
Kradin, N.N., D.M. Bondarenko, and T. Barfield. 2003 (eds.). Nomadic Pathway in
Social Evolution. Moscow: Center for Civilizational and Regional Studies of the
Russian Academy of Sciences.
Kradin, N. N., Lynsha, V.A. 1995. (eds.). Alternative Pathways to Early State. Vladi-
vostok: Dalnauka.
Kradin, N.N., and T.D. Skrynnikova. 2006. Imperiya Chingis-Khana [The Genghis
Khan Empire]. Moscow: Vostochnaya literatura RAN.
Marcus, J. 2008. The Archaeological Evidence for Social Evolution. Annual Review of
Anthropology 37: 251–266.
Pauketat, T. 2007. Chiefdoms and Other Archaeological Delusions. New York – Wal-
nut Canyon – California: AltaMira Press.
Yoffee, N. 2005. Myth of the Archaic State: Evolution of the Earliest Cities, States, and
Civilizations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

6
7
Part One

THEORIES OF SOCIAL EVOLUTION

8
1

PROBLEMS, PARADOXES, AND


PROSPECTS OF EVOLUTIONISM

Henri J.M. Claessen

Introduction
Since some time new questions have come to the fore in the study of
evolutionism, and several of the traditional approaches seem to be in need of
reformulation. It is not possible to discuss in the limited space of an article all
recent questions and problems, and neither is it possible to present a survey of
all new views. I will limit myself to the evolution of political organizations, a
field I have studied for some time myself. Such political organizations,
however, are a part of more encompassing wholes or cultures. It is not
possible to isolate political structures from their cultural background.
Influences of other elements of that culture will continue to play a role in the
political structure - and vice versa. This will appear also in this article, where
several times will be switched from a specific political organization to the
culture of which it is a part, and back.
In this article first some of the new views on evolutionism will be
summarized, then the problem of unilinear versus multilinear evolutionism
will be discussed, and finally attention will be given to the question of how in
different places, and in different evolutionary streams, similar socio-political
structures could develop.

Basic Concepts Reformulated


For quite some time it has been customary to define evolution in terms
of growing complexity and unilinear development (e.g. Carneiro 1973,
9
1995). And, of course, there are arguments to do so. There are now more
human beings than ever before; the capacity to produce has grown beyond
believe, technology reaches to the moon and beyond, and the ability to
organize more and more people in complex social systems is demonstrated
by the existing states and multinationals. The nineteenth-century sociologist
Spencer (1971) made the principle of growing complexity the cornerstone of
his concept of evolution, and Karl Marx (1964) formulated in the Formen a
series of increasingly complex modes of production. Some decades later
Leslie White (1949), reformulated the Second Law of Thermodynamics to
explain why human culture is the only phenomenon in the universe that is
characterized by growing complexity. And, in the nineteen-seventies Robert
Carneiro became the spokesmen of all those who considered evolution as
characterized by growing complexity and unilinearity (Carneiro 1973).
There are, however, reasons not to make growing complexity the
essence of cultural evolution. There are many developments that do not lead
to growth of complexity; stagnation, decline and collapse are as characteristic
of the development of human culture as growth and florescence (cf. Yoffee
1979, 1993). Moreover, how are we to cope in such a view with phenomena
such as cyclical developments, or cases where similar political structures turn
up at different levels of development ? And, last, how are we to cope with
societies that never evolved to a higher level of culture, but yet underwent
considerable changes such as hunter and gatherers (e.g., Lee and DeVore
1968) or the simple West African horticulturists as described by Muller
(1985) ?
In conclusion, it seems wise to discard growth of complexity as the
cornerstone of cultural evolution. Instead we should look for a more
satisfying characteristic. This could be the concept of structural change.
Evolution then can be defined as "the process by which structural
reorganization is affected through time, eventually producing a form or
structure which is qualitatively different from the ancestral form" (Voget
1975:862). This view we have applied in various publications (Claessen, Van
de Velde and Smith 1985; Claessen and Van de Velde 1987; Claessen and
Oosten 1996). Evolutionism then becomes the scientific activity of finding
nomothetic explanations for the occurrence of such structural changes.
Structural change expresses the fact that in one or more aspects of a cultural
system changes occur that have consequences for all (or most) of the other

10
aspects of that system. The system as a whole will be transformed because of
these changes. It does not seem necessary that the whole system changes at
once; this may take some time.
Regarding the question in which ways such structural changes are
brought about, I think that two aspects should be distinguished here: namely
how such changes are produced, and why. Both aspects will be discussed
here shortly.
In The Early State (Claessen and Skalnik 1978:624 ff.) a first attempt
was made to discover the general factors behind the evolution of this
phenomenon. Several factors were found to play a role, while it also appeared
that the process was comparable to a snowball: once in motion its momentum
tended to increase. There was found to be a mutual reinforcement of the
phenomena and their effects in all of the developmental processes studied. It
must be stresses here that the mutual reinforcement can and does work in
both directions: where it works positively the organization tends to grow in
size and complexity; where it works negatively the developments are seen to
come to a standstill, with the polity declining or even collapsing. Social
evolution has no prescribed direction. The analyses in The Early State
(1978:625 ff.) showed there to be six factors especially connected with the
emergence and subsequent development of the Early State: population
growth, war, conquest, ideology, the production of a surplus, and influence of
already existing states. However, these factors occurred in different orders
and varied in degree of intensity. Ideology and the production of a surplus
were considered necessary conditions: without their (positive) influence the
development of more complex forms of political organization did not seem
possible.
These findings were reconsidered and evaluated in The Study of the
State (Claessen and Skalnik 1981, ch.25). In that volume more cases were
added and some general chapters were presented. In the light of this
additional information some of the earlier generalization were in need of
reformulation. The ideological factor gained more emphasis (1981:479,484),
while war and conquest were reduced to more secondary roles as a corollary
of economic, demographic or ideological competition. Furthermore some
new variables came to the fore, among them irrigation, the role of trade, and
endogamy. From this it became clear that the factor surplus - as formulated
earlier - had been conceived too narrow (1981:484). It was suggested,

11
therefore, to reformulate this factor as dominance and control of the
economy, instead of surplus. In this way lower-order variables such as trade
or irrigation were brought under a more-encompassing heading.
As was stated above, all the factors mentioned played a role in the
development in each of the cases analyzed. It was impossible, however, to
select any one of them as the prime mover, as the order in which they
occurred varied per case, while the strength of the factors was also quite
different per case. In Development and Decline (Claessen, Van de Velde and
Smith 1985) we tried to construct a general model of the evolution of socio-
political phenomena on the basis of our earlier findings and the contributions
to that volume. This model we christened the Complex Interaction Model.
In this process the factor population growth appeared to be rather
unsatisfactory (cf. Hayden 1981). Not only the number of people was
relevant, but also the number of people in relation to the means of production,
and the spatial distribution of the population, which both played a role in the
evolution of socio-political organization. We therefore coined the term
societal format, which covers the number of people, possible population
pressure, and spatial distribution.
As no political system develops in a vacuum, each specific system
should be placed in space and time. When doing this space (the natural
environment) and time (the historical background) will enter into the
analysis. With the help of these two additions the environment (resources,
climate, water, mines etc.), and the socio-political influences of the
surrounding areas (history, war, cultural background etc.) enter the analysis
(cf. Kottak 1980; Renfrew and Cherry 1986). In view of the fact that of the
original six factors, as found in The Early State, war and conquest were
discarded, and that the influence of already existing states is too specific to be
included into a general model, we are left with three factors: ideology,
economy and societal format, that in close interaction direct the process of
socio-political evolution. As emerging socio-political structures have a
momentum of their own, and strongly interact with the three other factors,
they can be taken as the fourth factor in the model (Claessen, Van de Velde
and Smith 1985:255).
Some words of caution are in place here. Although it is possible to
distinguish between these factors analytically, it is impossible to separate
them in reality; in the cultures under study such distinctions are usually not

12
made. And, when speaking of economic or ideological factors, we do not aim
at discussing the whole field of economy or ideology of the cases we study;
they are brought into play only as far as they are important for the socio-
political organization. This, however, may give rise to a more comprehensive
analysis of these fields in order to gain a better understanding of their
working (e.g. Claessen and Van de Velde 1991 on economy; Claessen and
Oosten 1996 on ideology). We think, that with the Complex Interaction
Model we have found an answer to the question of how cultures evolve.
It remains to be seen to what extent it is possible to answer the
question why cultures change. For why did evolution take place ? What
induced people to give up the Original Affluent Society (Sahlins 1968; 1972)
and to develop agriculture, urban life or the state ? Put in this way the
question is silly; nobody ever chose deliberately to do so, and nobody
envisaged the complex phenomena which nowadays govern our lives. The
question, asked by Southall (1991:78), of "how people succeeded in
deceiving themselves into accepting the rise of the state around and above
them, until the point was reached when they no longer had any choice and
had lost the power to reject it", therefore is not very fortunate. Such a choice
never occurred: socio-political developments came to happen as unforeseen
consequences of earlier decisions and choices, most of which were inevitable
responses to greater or smaller changes in the way of life of peoples (see for
such choices: Van Parijs 1981). Most evolutionary changes took place
unintended, and without specific planning (Hallpike 1986; Claessen and
Skalnik 1978:624). Now, this is hardly a satisfying answer to the question of
why things happened; fortunately some more can be said about it. As a point
of departure can be taken Malinowskis view that human beings have basic
needs, such as the need for food, shelter, or sex. To fulfil these needs people
have to undertake activities, and while doing so they either have to cope with
difficulties presented by the physical surroundings, or with the reactions of
other people. Thus to get food, partners, housing, water, clothes - to fulfil
their needs - they have to struggle with nature, and to establish relationships
with other human beings. Action always calls for reaction; food resources get
exhausted and new ways to procure them have to be invented (cf. Hayden
1981); human reactions may vary greatly, but whatever the nature of their
reactions (fear, aggression, defence, cooperation, marriage, or whatever),
human beings react when approached. For a very long time human groups

13
were small and split when their numbers reached a critical point in relation to
their resources, or when social tensions no longer could be channelled in a
peaceful way. Relations with other groups, however, were always
maintained. The ever recurring pattern of efforts to fulfil the basic human
needs, the ensuing actions, followed by all kinds of reactions, constitute, I
think, the primary dynamic force behind social evolution. Man has to act, and
this forces others to react; there is no escape for that.

A Traditional Dilemma: Unilinear or Multilinear ?


Already from its very beginning, evolutionism had to cope with
contradictory data; data that not fitted in the neatly formulated evolutionary
frameworks into which - it was thought - every society and each custom
should have a place. Tylor (1871) tried to cope with such irregularities by
working with broad categories, Morgan (1877) tried to include all data in his
ever growing number of classifications and typologies, and Engels (1884)
added economic considerations to Morgans schemes. These solutions,
however, were not wholly convincing. In the nineteen-thirties, therefore,
Julian H. Steward suggested that evolution went along different lines:
evolution was multilinear (Steward 1955). By taking this position, he
opposed the views defended by his contemporary Leslie White, who strongly
advocated unilinear evolution. In Evolution and Culture (1960) Marshall
Sahlins and Elman Service, students of both White and Steward, tried to
combine the views of their teachers. In order to do so they distinguished
between general and specific evolution. General evolution was seen by them
as the evolution of human culture in general, characterized by growing
complexity and unilinearity, and with culture apparently leaping from one
societal form to another. To account for the great variety in historical
developments they introduced the concept of specific evolution, which aimed
at the explanation of qualitative reorganizations of specific societies with the
help of general categories. In doing so, they reduced the idea of multilinearity
to a kind of side-line in development.
In an important article Robert Carneiro (1973) suggested that there was
no fundamental contradiction between unilinear and multilinear evolution; a
specific institution that is found in a number of societies, could be very well
the result of different origins. Or, stated in another way: departing from more

14
or less corresponding levels of sociocultural development, after some time,
and following different trajectories, more or less similar higher levels of
development would be reached. In this way the unilinear principle could be
maintained, while the multilinear reality was not neglected (1973:102-103).
This view found some confirmation in our research of the origins of the state.
In The Early State (1978: ch. 25,26,27) Peter Skalnik and I presented ample
evidence that all Early States of our sample had been preceded by chiefdom-
types of political organization, and that via different trajectories, they had
reached the Early State-level. This seemed to confirm Carneiros model. In the
same article mentioned above, Carneiro also stated that Steward, his
multilinear principles notwithstanding, actually was an unilinearist. He based
this view on an analysis of Stewards article (1949/1955) on the evolution of
the state, in which in all the five cases, the trajectory towards the state
appeared more or less identical (1973:95-96). The fact of unilinear evolution
seemed to be decisively proven.
There is, however, a serious flaw in the analysis. To begin with the
Early State-sample: this consisted of twenty-one societies that all had reached
the state-level - and this we knew before our analysis started. In fact we had
selected the cases deliberately with that goal in mind ! The same holds for
Stewards sample, in which he followed the development of the state in five
regions. As both samples consisted only out of cases that reached the state-
level, the evolutionary analysis of the cases can give no other result than an
unilinear development, though some multilinear episodes on the road towards
this level might have occurred. As soon as one is aware of this, Carneiros
argument that evolution in last analysis is unilinear looses much of its
cogency.
This same flaw seems to be present also in Services well -known
typology band-tribe-chiefdom-state (Service 1971), and in Frieds egalitarian-
ranking-stratified-state sequence (Fried 1967). In both cases the authors
develop a genealogy of the state - and small wonder that their sequences are
characterized by unilinearity and growing complexity. Both started the
analysis at a low level of development and followed the evolution of society
till the state-level was reached. This is not to say that their typologies are
untrue, or that their sequences cannot be applied, but only to emphasize that a
number of developments necessarily fall outside their scope. Societies that
did not reach the state-level of development were, as a consequence of this

15
approach, qualified as retarded or stagnated. But, does such a qualification
make sense ? The case of unilinear evolution seems quite weak, but what are
the alternatives ?

Multidirectionality in Evolution
When European explores started to discover the world, they met with a
great variety of societies, each exhibiting a colourful pattern of customs and
values. These societies were the result of regional developments. Only with
considerable difficulties our nineteenth-century predecessors succeeded in
creating some order in this bewildering variety of human cultures. In order to
do so they applied views borrowed from biological evolution (Ingold 1986).
When trying to order these societies along the lines indicated by the by
nineteenth-century developmental schemes the question arose to what extent
it was allowed to use data from contemporary primitives to interpret the life
of prehistoric peoples. At the time Tylor (1871) argued that this certainly
could be done, for the cultures of e.g., present day hunters and gatherers,
were in fact much older than our own, only recently developed culture. Later
Elman Service (1971:7) used the same argument, stating that the Arunta
(Australian Aborigines) were "palaeolithic in type, although the palaeolithic
era ended when and where higher stages arose". And, Abraham Pershits
argued (1977:47) that modern societies "which lag behind in their
development are not the equivalents, but merely the analogues, of primitive
societies". In short, there were found in the nineteenth century a great number
of societies that had not reached the state-level of development, and instead
had to be reckoned to completely different levels of evolution. There was,
moreover, not the least indication that these societies were degenerated or
showed stagnation; they were vital, lively and eager to continue. They
apparently had followed different lines of evolution.
Interestingly, neither Service, nor Sahlins, nor Fried or Carneiro drew
this obvious conclusion from the data. This surprises the more since Service
himself had defended the high age of the hunter and gatherer culture, and
special conferences were organized to discuss these peoples (e.g., Lee and
DeVore 1968). The same considerations hold for all other "primitive
contemporaries" (Murdock 1933). They were contemporary, and vital, but in

16
the evolutionary sequences they were classified as lower developed, retarded,
or even degraded types of societies.
It seems to me that another approach of these cultures is possible. If we
are willing to accept the view that say, hunters and gatherers represent a very
old type of culture, and we know that even till today hunting and gathering
groups exist (e.g., Murdock 1968; Persoon 1994; Jochim 1996; but see:
Guenther 1996) then we cannot escape to accept the idea that there are more
streams in evolution than the one and only stream leading to the state (it
should be mentioned here that Carneiro 1973:103, presents a figure,
resembling the model of evolution that I suggest here). This model is
theoretically admissible, since the idea that evolution necessarily means
growing complexity was discarded above, and the idea of unilinearity was
shown to be weak, to say the least. The fact, for example, that in Melanesia
specific types of socio-political systems had developed, characterized by big-
men, elders, and incidentally chiefs (Oliver 1955; Douglas 1979; Van Bakel,
Hagesteijn and Van de Velde 1986; Baker 1983; Godelier 1982) is suggestive
of an evolutionary line different from the line that led in Western Europe to
the development of capitalist societies. The same holds for Korotayevs
hypothesis about specific developments among mountain peoples (Korotayev
1995), and Kradins presentation of socio-political developments among
nomadic peoples (Kradin 1995a; Khazanov 1984).
The model presented here is the opposite of the previously mentioned
sequences, for here a start is made at the beginning of human society, and not
(as was usually done) at the highest level of development. To give an idea:
the culture of the Neanderthals. From these simple beginnings (Graves 1991)
the whole fabric of human variety developed. First small groups dispersed
over the earth, pushed by lack of food or by conflicts; it was not possible then
by lack of organization to find solutions for conflicts, and a number of group
members moved away when conflict arose (e.g.Stauder 1971; Service 1966;
Persoon 1994). Gradually they reached places where seasonal differences
obliged them to provide for the poor season: food, houses, and clothes were
needed (Testart 1982). More developed groups dominated the better places,
and the weaker were driven to more marginal regions. This last view is
already found with White: groups that generate more energy tend to drive
away weaker groups (White 1949; Kaplan 1960; Sahlins 1961; Adams 1975).
The ensuing dynamics led in the course of time to the development of

17
different evolutionary streams, often connected with specific regions, in
which the development of culture - and thus of the socio-political
organization - followed different courses. This view was presented already
in some detail by C.R. Hallpike in his Principles of Social Evolution (1986),
in which he outlines, with the help of a number of core principles, a Chinese
stream (1986:294-328), and an Indo-European stream (1986:329-368). He
stressed the great flexibility of the core principles; as an example he
mentioned Polynesia, where but a few core principles directed a specific
Polynesian evolution over many centuries (1986:293). A view that is found
with several other students of Polynesia, too (Kirch and Green 1987).
It is not possible at the moment to fully oversee the implications of this
hypothesis. Neither is it possible at the moment to indicate the possible
number of such streams. That, however, the evolution of human culture - and
in our case, especially socio-political organization - followed different
trajectories seems obvious, as it is also obvious that not everywhere the same
level of development was reached. That nowadays many peoples, belonging
to distinct evolutionary streams are brought under the influence of the
dominant industrial/capitalist stream does not affect the model; this is just an
instance of the Law of Cultural Dominance (referred to above). One of the
problems connected with the model here proposed is how to explain the
occurrence of similar types of socio-political organization in different
evolutionary streams and at different periods ?

Similar Types of Organization in Different Streams


Before attempting to answer this question, it should be made clear first
to what extent we can speak of similar, or identical (see the discussion by
Wason 1995). In the first place we do not aim at a comparison of whole
cultures. Such comparisons are practically impossible. Some form of
reduction of such complex phenomena is always necessary. Therefore, only
some traits of cultures are compared, traits that can be defined and more or
less isolated out of the whole. One of such traits is the socio-political
structure of societies - but one could also select the means of subsistence,
trade, temple-religions, or kinship systems, as the subject for intercultural
comparison. To prepare the data for comparison an effort must be made to
formulate them in such a way, that comparison will be possible. This implies

18
that specific functions and activities will be brought under the heading of
more general categories. For example, in a comparison of Polynesian
political organizations, functionaries, such as the Tahitian arii rahi, the
Tongan tui tonga, and the Hawaiian alii nui, were all defined as sacred rulers,
representing the eldest line of the kinship group, the ramage. In such a
comparison similarities, as well as differences between the functionaries, can
be pointed out (Claessen and Oosten 1996). In this process there is a loss of
specific characteristics, and a gain in comparability (cf. Wason 1995). These
procedures have been elaborated The Early State (1978:533-537). Generally
speaking, in making comparisons and in constructing models of socio-
political structures, the reduction of ethnographic data to more general types
is inevitable.
The comparative approach does not aim at the comparison or
classification of whole cultures. This thus is not my goal, for that would
mean the application of a pars pro toto approach: one trusts that some aspects
of a culture are sufficient to represent the whole. Recently Nikolay Kradin
(1995b:8) asks, after having mentioned that we (Claessen and Skalnik 1978),
combined different societies such as ancient China, Egypt, Hawaii, Norway,
Medieval France, Tahiti, Scythia etc. into one framework, "Is it possibly that
all the listed societies do not differ from each other ?" The answer to that
question is of course: yes, they do differ greatly, and we know that very well.
Therefore we compared, at a rather high level of abstraction, only the
political systems of these societies, and found - the many differences in the
specific cultures notwithstanding - that these political organizations showed
an amazing degree of similarity.
Such similarities in otherwise different social formations are found
also with other socio-political structures. For example, in many places
chiefdoms (cf. Carneiro 1981) are found, even though there are no historical
connections demonstrable between the societies concerned. The fact that
chiefdom types of socio-political organization could be identified in
nineteenth-century Melanesia (Douglas 1979), among the Indians of the
Caribbean at the time of their discovery by Columbus (Fried 1979), in
present-day West Africa (Muller 1985, 1996), in prehistoric Western Europe
(Roymans 1990), and in the many cases contained in Earles Chiefdoms:
Power, Economy, and Ideology (1991), illustrates the paradoxical situation
that after having discarded unilinear levels of socio-political evolution, we

19
have to cope with the fact that similar socio-political structures such as states,
or chiefdoms, pop up in different places, and in different streams.
It seems to me that a solution for this paradox should be formulated in
general terms, so that it can be applied to all cases where similar socio-
political structures emerge in different evolutionary streams. A first approach
to a solution of the problem was made some sixty years ago by Julian
H.Steward (1936/1955), who tried to explain the occurrence of the patrilocal
band in a number of unconnected societies. To explain this phenomenon he
first established that there had been no mutual contacts, and further that the
ecological situation differed greatly in each case. The emergence of similar
structures thus had to be sought in the culture of the bands. He then
distinguished four factors which, in a complex interaction, produced the
patrilineal band (1955:135): a very low population density; nonmigratory
game as the principal food; transportation restricted to human carriers; and
the prescription of group exogamy. Each time when these factors appear
together, a patrilineal band will develop (for comments to this thesis: Service
1971:61; Steward 1968:332-333). The importance of this study lies, in my
opinion, in the demonstration that similar cultural forms will develop in
different places, when specific conditions are met.
Early Sates, regardless of their further distinction into incipient, typical
and transitional subtypes (see Korotayev 1995:61, note 3), are found in
different evolutionary streams, and in different periods. To this phenomenon
is drawn attention by Jonathan Haas (1995:18), who points out that states
developed along historically distinct trajectories, while at the same time
they

"share basic characteristics of institutional bureaucracies, ruling elites, state religions,


standing armies, and centralized economics. These common characteristics, standing
at the heart of the state form of organization, represent a cross-cultural response to
similar forces of population pressure, resource shortages and increasing social com-
plexity."

In our recent Ideology and the Emergence of Early States (Claessen and
Oosten 1996) we distinguish several different regional types, such as the
Early States of Polynesia, West Africa, Indo-Europe, and Central America
(1996:365-372). We emphasize that in different cultural settings
independently similar political structures emerged:

20
"Different societies may be faced with similar problems: how to maintain law and
order, how to maintain the territorial integrity of the realm; how to maintain the gov-
ernmental apparatus, etc. To solve these problems organizational structures must be
created, and hard necessity induces a government soon to replace impractical or non-
functional solutions with more effective ones. These were often copied from success-
ful neighbours" (1996:366; cf. Haas 1995:17).

The argument presented is a functional one: there are but few institutions to
govern a country really effective; other institutions will not survive the hard
tests of reality - a real Darwinistic explanation (and, unknowingly, resem-
bling Haass line of reasoning). Before state organizations can emerge, sev-
eral conditions have to be fulfilled: there must be a sufficient number of
people to form a complex stratified society; there must be controlled a spe-
cific territory; there must be a productive system yielding a surplus to
maintain the many specialists and the privileged categories; and there must
exist an ideology which explains and justifies a hierarchical administrative
organization (Claessen and Oosten 1996:5). The dynamic force behind the
eventual evolution of the early state are also here the acting and reacting
human beings (some of whom have more influence on the developments
than others). Where these conditions are not met, the emergence of a state
organization becomes most doubtful - though the example of already exist-
ing states in the region might be of help in some cases.
So, all in all, there are several factors that explain the occurrence of
more or less similar organizational arrangements in different evolutionary
streams:
• the heavy tests of effectivity: but few institutions are functionally
satisfactory;
• the four conditions which strongly determine the possibility of the
emergence of the state;
• the fact that similar problems arise in different streams;
• and the example of successful neighbours - as discussed in some detail by
Renfrew and Cherry (1986; cf. Ambrosino 1995).
This article is not the place to discuss all ramifications of the
evolutionary streams-approach. It seems probable that from a rather similar
cultural stratum of the hunting and gathering cultures several different
evolutionary streams emerged, and also that in the course of time new
streams branched off the existing ones, and others were incorporated by

21
stronger streams. The identification and demarcation of the separate streams
is difficult; most probably distinctions will always have some subjective bias.
Above I mentioned in passing by Polynesia and West Africa as regions with
possibly different evolutionary stream. This categorization is perhaps too
narrow. Should we not reckon Polynesia to a more encompassing Pacific
Stream (Kirch and Green 1987), and West Africa to a more encompassing
Africa-south-of-the-Sahara stream (Claessen and Skalnik 1981: ch.4) ? And,
should the idea of a stream always be conceived of geographically ? A
nomad-stream seems a possibility, and perhaps also a mountain-stream. I
think that, once the idea of distinct evolutionary streams is accepted,
workable solutions for this type of questions will be found.

Summary
There is no longer a reason to resort to all-embracing levels of socio-
cultural development, for it was shown that similar types of institutions
develop under specific conditions, regardless of the stream in which they
occur. Social evolution is shown to be multidirectional: distinct streams of
evolution can be identified. Some of these streams show only limited
developments; this holds for example for the hunter and gatherer bands,
representing the last members of the first evolutionary stream, and also some
evolutionary streams in Melanesia or Africa, still characterized by tribal
levels of organization. The simultaneously found higher levels of
development here were imported from the industrialized world. In most
streams, however, high civilizations developed independently: e.g., the realm
of the pharaohs, the dominant industry-capitalism-complex, Imperial China.
Evolution is not unilinear, but multidirectional. An explanation for the
signalled differences in development was not attempted here. It was stated,
however, that evolutionary changes generally are the result of a complex
interaction of economic, ideological, demographical, and socio-political
factors. It was suggested, moreover, that all such changes were brought about
by human actions, causing other humans to react. Categories such as general
or universal evolution do no longer seem to be of great explanatory use.

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26
2

ALTERNATIVITY OF SOCIAL EVOLUTION:


INTRODUCTORY NOTES*

Andrey V. Korotayev, Nikolay N. Kradin,


Victor de Munck and Valeriy A. Lynsha

0. General notions: evolution, development, progress


We accept Claessen's proposal to view social evolution "as ‘the
process by which structural reorganization is affected through time, even-
tually producing a form or structure which is qualitatively different from
the ancestral form'" (see Claessen's contribution to this volume [Chapter 1];
the definition itself belongs to Voget [1975: 862]; however, it was Claessen
who supported it most strongly in our field (Claessen, van de Velde
1982: 11ff.; 1985: 6ff.; 1987: 1; Claessen 1989: 234; Claessen 1993a;
Claessen and Oosten 1996 &c; see also e.g. Collins 1988: 12-13; Sanderson
1990). We also completely agree with Claessen when he maintains (in
Chapter 1 of this volume): "Evolutionism then becomes the scientific activ-
ity of finding nomothetic explanations for the occurrence of such structural
changes".
Of course, such an understanding of evolution differs completely
from the one by Spencer, who introduced this notion into scientific dis-
course. Spencer proposed the following definition, which retains its esthet-
ical appeal up to the present : "a change from an incoherent homogeneity to
a coherent heterogeneity" (Spencer 1972 [1862]: 71). This definition im-
plies an understanding of evolution as a dual process of differentiation and

*
The research by Andrey Korotayev has been supported by the Russian Ministry of
Education (the Universities of Russia Program). The research by Nikolay Kradin has
been supported by Russian State Humanitarian Foundation ((project # 97-01-00533).
27
integration. Within the notion of evolution suggested by Claessen, "Spen-
cerian" evolution represents one of three possible types of evolutionary
processes. In addition there is the evolution from complex to simple social
systems and of structural changes on the same level of complexity. These
criteria for typologizing social evolution roughly correspond to the typol-
ogy of the main directions of biological evolution proposed by Severtsov
(1939; 1967). His tripartite typology employed the following terminology:
[1] aromorphosis [~ anagenesis in the sense in which this term was origi-
nally proposed by Rensch {1959: 281–308; see also Dobzhansky et al.
1977; Futuyma 1986: 286}], [2] degeneration, and [3] idioadaptation
(~cladogenesis Rensch 1959: 97f.; see also Dobzhansky et al. 1977; Fu-
tuyma 1986: 286). Thus, it appears that our typology corresponds closely to
the typology of evolution in modern biology.
However, the process described by Spencer, though we avoid calling
it evolution, is, no doubt, one of the most important types of evolutionary
processes and definitely deserves special attention. We do not think there is
any problem with the designation of the "Spencerian" type of evolutionary
processes. Indeed, this term already exists and is widely used to denote
precisely this type of social (and not only social) change. This term simply
is development. Note that in biology this term is also used to denote pre-
cisely a change from an incoherent homogeneity to a coherent heterogene-
ity. Of course, in biology development and evolution are considered to be
entirely different processes; however, it appears impossible to find any
analogy to the development/evolution dichotomy in the realm of social life.
In any case, below the "Spencerian" evolution will be denoted as develop-
ment.1
It seems necessary to say also a few words about the notion of pro-
gress.

1
It is possible to find some (albeit incomplete) analogue for this dichotomy in social
life too. Indeed, during some periods of time the development of some societies could
be, to a great extent, regarded as "programmed" by the existing systems of cultural
codes, values, and practices. In this situation, the evolutionary shifts should be identi-
fied in terms of changes in the "programming" systems and structures influencing the
course and direction of the development of respective societies. Such an approach to
the theory of sociocultural evolution appears both possible and promising. However,
within this collective monograph we have decided to stick firmly to "Claessen's" no-
tion of social evolution in order to preserve the conceptual unity of the book.
28
As is well known, in Western sociology and anthropology this notion
had almost entirely disappeared from the academic texts, though recently it
seems to have started reappearing there again (e.g. Sanderson 1995: 336).
However, this category has always remained in use in the Russian social
sciences, and it is quite frequently employed till now (e.g. Nazaretyan
1991; 1995; Zhurov 1994: 94–105 &c). In general, we tend to sympathize
with this, because with this category two very important notions continue
to penetrate (albeit in a disguised form) into our field of research. In mod-
ern social sciences these two notions are even more severely tabooed than
the category of "progress". And, say, we, when using these notions in an
academic text, feel a rather strong discomfort. These two notions are good
and evil.1 And, from our point of view, a social science that completely re-
fuses to study the problematique connected with these two categories,
looses most of its substance and becomes sterile.
Some time ago we paid some interest to the issue of the objective cri-
teria of social progress; and not so long ago we seem to have solved this prob-
lem (at least for ourselves). From our point of view, the answer is that there
are no such objective criteria at all.
Indeed, in most cases the notion of progress is not used to denote the
growth of some ethically neutral parameter (e.g. "complexity", "differentia-
tion", "integration") – there is a sufficient number of more or less ethically
neutral terms to designate such types of social change – "evolution", "de-
velopment", "growth". The main difference between the notion of progress
and the above mentioned terms is precisely that the "progress" usually de-
1
It looks like it was the very link between the notion of progress and the rather subjec-
tive, never completely objectifiable categories of good and the evil which led, some
time ago, to the virtual prohibition of the use of the notion of progress by the Western
sociological and anthropological establishment which that time struggled to transform
sociology and anthropology into fully "objective" sciences. However, we tend to con-
sider this as a manifestation of a sort of intellectual cowardice. Of course, it is rather
difficult for a scholar to work with such heavily value-laden notions which have such
a strong ethical force. In addition, to work openly and publically with such notions
demands a considerable moral responsibility on the part of the respective scholar.
Nevertheless, intellectual (and moral) cowardliness leads to nothing good. Social sci-
ence either becomes sterile, or these very subjective categories are smuggled into "ob-
jective" research in hidden forms. The result is the worst possible one; and what hap-
pens turns out to be precisely what the Western social sciences tried to avoid through
the "tabooization" of the notion of progress – virtual value-judgements (which a social
scientist is no more competent to make than a "layperson") are presented as "objec-

29
note not simply development, but the development from "the bad" to "the
good", i.e. in the final analysis the decrease of the evil and the growth of
the good; and just because of this, from our point of view, the notion of
progress appears to be so useful. Indeed, any social transformation (espe-
cially, if this transformation takes place in the society where we live) is of
real interest for us mainly not because of its objective characteristics; what
is really of interest to us is whether as a result of this transformation our life
will become better or worth. In the final analysis the most "objective" soci-
ologist, or anthropologist when giving public recommendations recom-
mends this just in order to make life better for some people (as he/she
would hardly recommend any measures which according to his/her point of
view would not bring anything good to anybody). Consequently, the au-
thor's subjective perceptions of the good and the evil (or to put it milder –
"what is good and what is bad"), turn out to be embodied into the most sci-
entifically looking "objective" public recommendations. And it would be
much better if those subjective perceptions were clearly expressed instead
of being hidden behind the mask of the "scientific objectivity".
Thus, we tend to view the social progress just as the growth of the
good/decrease of the evil (or, in other words, as social evolution from the
bad to the good). At the meantime we tend to view the notions of the good
and the evil as undefinable. To our mind, any attempts to reduce those no-
tions to any definite and objective categories (such as, say, "pleas-
ance/unpleasance", "efficiency/inefficiency", "usefulness/harmfulness" &c) lead
to the lost by those notions of their main contents, their essence. However,
we insist on the possibility (and necessity) of the work with those catego-
ries notwithstanding their immanent unidentifiability, as the modern sci-
ence works perfectly well with such unidentifiable notions, as probability,
or set; what is more, the modern science is unthinkable without these no-
tions.
A possible objection is that it is still impossible to work with those
categories, as there is different understanding of what is good and what is
evil in different cultures (and even different people within one culture). We
believe that this is not quite so. We would rather maintain that in different
cultures different phenomena are denoted as "good", or "evil", that what

tive" scientific results which are, consequently, much more important than "lay peo-
ple's" opinions.
30
some people denote as "good" could be denoted as "evil" by other people.
But when a person of another culture tells us that something is good, we
understand him/her perfectly well even if we consider this evil.
The problem of the introduction into objective scientific research of
such subjective categories as the good and the evil (and, incidentally, the
progress) does not appear to be as unsolvable as this might seem. What is
necessary is just not to fail to mention explicitly the subjectivity of the pro-
gress criteria at the stage of their introduction, whereas afterwards it ap-
pears to be possible to work with them applying any appropriate standard
methodology (trying, however, to reduce the "zone of the subjective" to the
minimum). If such a study includes any practical recommendations, then
the subjective conceptions of the good and the evil of those for whose good
the respective recommendations target turn out to be more important than
the one's of the author him-/herself. The criteria problem could be solved
through the search for consensus of the subjective conceptions of the good
and the evil (which is not always so difficult) – actually many well-known
democratic procedures turn out to be to a considerable extent just rather ef-
fective concrete ways of the search for such a consensus. In any case at the
stage of evaluation of the respective recommendation application results
what matters is only the subjective conceptions of the recommendation
"objects" – even if according to the "objective parameters" it has become
better, whereas according to the subjective feelings of, say, the inhabitants
of the town where the recommendations have been applied (and for whose
good they have been made) it has become worse, it can only mean that it
has become worse.
We believe that the construction of any "objective criteria of pro-
gress" is not only ethically erroneous, but also potentially dangerous. For
example, Nazaretyan (1991; 1995) considers the progress as the growth of
stable inequilibrium; and though he constantly insists on the absence of any
ethical coloring of the notion of progress, this does not help much. Indeed,
irrespective of any number of possible reservations and qualifications this
notion appears to retain positive connotations. If not on conscious, than on
subconscious level most people would feel that "progress" is something
which should be achieved; whereas it is not self-evident that, say, "the
growth of stable inequilibrium" is something which should be achieved at
any cost. In some sense the construction of the "objective criteria of pro-

31
gress" bears seeds of totalitarianism, as potentially this could lead to the
formation of some elite group which claims to know "objectively" what
other people need better than those people themselves.
What has been mentioned above is entirely applicable to Marxism
with e.g. its conception of "objective class interests" from which necessar-
ily stems the conviction in the possibility (and desirability) of the formation
of the elite possessing the true scientific knowledge, knowing the true in-
terests of the workers better than the workers themselves, and hence, hav-
ing the moral right to coerce workers to undertake certain actions "in the
interests of the proletariat", even if the workers themselves (lacking true
"class consciousness") have different ("opportunistic", "false") ideas of
their own interests (see e.g.: Rigby 1987).
The possibility of the "consensual" use of the progress criteria has
been recently convincingly shown by Sanderson (1995: 336-357). Indeed,
the list of criteria suggested by him seems to have good chances to be ac-
cepted by most people: the material standard of living (including health and
life expectancy), the nature of work and the human workload, the degree of
social and economic equality, and the extent of democracy and freedom.
Note that Sanderson's line of reasoning is essentially, though not explicitly
the same as ours – he appeals to the subjective desires of people them-
selves, and to some objective scientific truths (Sanderson 1995: 336–337).
Below we shall analyze a few approaches to the study of social evo-
lution. Naturally, each of those approaches is represented by a few theories.
However, to consider properly all those theories we would have to write a
separate monograph (and a rather thick one). Hence, we shall restrict our-
selves to a detailed consideration within each approach of just one theory
which we regard as the most influential theory of this kind (at least within
our field, the sociocultural anthropology).

1. Unilineal approach
The line is monodimentional. Hence, it appears possible to speak
about a line/trajectory of evolution (or a line of development) of a single
society. However, if we speak about the line of evolution common for all
societies, than this would be true only if one of two conditions is observed.
1) It seems possible to speak about a single line of social evolution,
if we apply a single criterion. It does not appear to be reasonable, but is

32
sometimes done. For example, the most influential three-stage scheme pos-
tulating the existence of the universal stages of the foraging, agrarian, and
industrial societies (to which the post-industrial stage is sometimes added)
seems to be simply a result of application of a single technological crite-
rion. The other single criterion scheme is the one stemming from Hegel and
applying the criterion of freedom – in Russia there were some attempts to
use this approach still in the 1960s (Porshnev 1966: 190–201).
However, this does not appear to be the only form of the evolution-
ary unilinearism, and nobody seems to insist seriously on the possibility of
the use of only one criterion of evolution at the moment. Hence, we shall
concentrate on another condition, which could justify the evolutionary uni-
linearism.
2) It would be possible to speak about the line of social evolution if
there were a perfect 100% correlation between the main unidimentional pa-
rameters of evolution. Take one of the most influential and widespread
evolutionary schemes, the one proposed by Service (1962/1971; its outline
is, however, already contained in Sahlins 1960: 37): band – tribe –
chiefdom – state. One might think that this is a justifiably unilineal
scheme, as it virtually considers the political dimension of social evolution.
As is well known, it was further suggested (with apparently reasonable jus-
tification) in this scheme to substitute the tribe with the sovereign village
community (Townsend 1985: 146; Carneiro 1987: 760). Consequently the
tribe has found itself on the brink of being evicted from the model. How-
ever, the political forms entirely identical with what was described by Ser-
vice as the tribe could be actually found in e.g. medieval and modern Mid-
dle East (up to the present): these tribal systems comprise normally several
communities and often have precisely the type of political leadership de-
scribed by Service as typical for the tribe.
Thus compare:

"Leadership is personal... and for special purposes only in tribal society; there are no
political offices containing real power, and a 'chief' is merely a man of influence, a
sort of adviser. The means of tribal consolidation for collective action are therefore
not governmental... Tribe... is composed of economically self-sufficient residential
groups which because of the absence of higher authority take unto themselves the
private right to protect themselves. Wrongs to individuals are punished by the corpo-

33
rate group, the 'legal person'. Disputes in tribal society tend to generate feuds be-
tween groups"1 (Service 1971 [1962]: 103);
And e.g.:
"A shaykh cannot ... make undertakings on his men's behalf simply on the basis of
his formal position; each undertaking which affects them must be specifically agreed
to..." (Dresch 1984a: 39). "The power which a shaykh may have over groups of
tribesmen is not conferred on him by his position. He must constantly intervene in
their affairs, and intervene successfully" [in order to preserve his power] (Ibid.: 41;
see also: Chelhod 1970; 1979; 1985: 39–54; Dostal 1974; 1990: 47-58, 175–223;
Obermeyer 1982; Dresch 1984b; 1989; Abū Ghānim 1985; 1990: 229–251 &c).

The point is that we are dealing here with some type of polity that
could not be identified either with bands, or with village communities (be-
cause such tribes comprise normally more than one community), or with
chiefdoms (because they have an entirely different type of political leader-
ship), or, naturally, with states. They could not be inserted easily either in
the scheme somewhere between the village and the chiefdom. Indeed, as
has been shown convincingly by Carneiro (see his chapter 3 in this mono-
graph, and e.g. 1970; 1981; 1987; 1991), the chiefdoms arose normally as a
result of the political centralization of a few communities without the stage
of the tribe preceding this. On the other hand, a considerable amount of
evidence could be produced suggesting that in the Middle East2 many tribes

1
It seems necessary to stress that, speaking logically, what should be treated as an es-
sential characteristic of tribal organization is not the conflicts between the residential
groups (which is completely normal as well for the primitive societies lacking any
specifically tribal organization – they are considered by Service to belong to "the
band level of sociocultural integration" [Ibid.: 46–98]), but the fact that the tribal or-
ganization puts certain limits to such conflicts. For example, feuding parties are con-
strained to carry out their conflict according to certain rules; and, in other casess,
highly developed mechanisms of mediation are provided to the feuding parties by the
tribal organization which often effectively block the most disintegrating conse-
quences of such conflicts, without alienating the "sovereignty" of the resident group.
Aactually, Service speaks about this on the pages which follow this quotation,
though, to our mind, without the necessary clarity.
It is also important to stress that the situation described by Service may not be
necessarily connected only with the complete absence of any supra-tribal political
structures ("higher authority"), but also with their weakness (as is attested with re-
spect to the most tribes of the Middle East). The weakness of such structures in many
"tribal areas" could partly be caused by the effectiveness of the tribal organization
which makes it frequently possible for the quite developed population to live without
any strong state structures.
2
At the moment we tend to suggest that almost the only region of the world where the
tribe as a distinct form of political organization was (and is) actually wide-spread is
the Middle East (in the Arab sense of this term – al-Sharq al-Awsat, hence, North Af-
rica including). It seems also possible to observe the tribe as a certain phase in the
34
arose as a result of the political decentralization of the chiefdoms which
preceded the tribes in time. It is also important to stress that this could not
in any way be identified with a "regression", "decline", or "degeneration",
as we can observe in many of such cases that the political decentralization
is accompanied by the increase (rather than decrease) of the overall social
complexity (see chapter 18 of this monograph – "The Chiefdom: Precursor
of the Tribe?", and also Korotayev 1995a; 1995b; 1995c; 1996a; 1996b;
1996c; 1997; 1998). Hence, in many respects tribal systems of the Middle
Eastern type appear to be alternatives (rather than predecessors) of the
chiefdoms.
What we have just mentioned is a rather particular point, whereas
generally speaking the main point here is that though Service's scheme is
normally taken as the one of political evolution, and hence, might be
thought to be monodimentional, it is actually based on the application of a
few criteria – the level of complexity, the type of leadership, the degree of
stratification &c and suggests 100% correlation (i.e. functional depend-
ence) between them.
The scheme implies that the growth of the political complexity (at
least up to the stage of the agrarian state) is inevitably accompanied by the
growth of the inequality, stratification, the social distance between the rul-
ers and the ruled, the "authoritarianism" and hierarchization of the political
system, decrease of the political participation of the main mass of popula-
tion &c. Of course, these two sets of parameters seem to be related rather
closely. It is evident that we observe here a certain correlation, and a rather
strong one. But, no doubt, this is just a correlation, and by no means a func-
tional dependence. Of course, this correlation implies a perfectly possible
line of socio-political evolution (see part III of this volume) – from an

"chiefdom – tribe – chiefdom" dynamic cyclical processes among the nomads of Cen-
tral Asia and the Far East (Kradin 1994). Some political systems of the North Ameri-
can Indians (especially the Plains Indians [e.g. Hoebel 1977]) could also be denoted
as tribes. It seems difficult to find specifically tribal political systems outside those
three regions. However, in all these cases there do not appear any sufficient grounds
to consider the tribe as the evolutionary precursor of the chiefdom, rather than the
other way around. In most of the other areas what are denoted as tribes, are either
ethnic (and not political) groups, or communities, or chiefdoms (a lot of instances of
such misuse of the notion of tribe are quoted by Fried [1967; 1975]); hence, there is
normally no need to speak in such cases about the tribe as a distinct form of political
organization – and this makes some of the scholars specializing on such regions think
that the tribe is an unnecessary element of such evolutionary schemes.
35
egalitarian, acephalous band, through a big-man village community with
much more pronounced inequality and political hierarchy, to an "authoritar-
ian" village community with a strong power of its chief (found e.g. among
some Indians of the North-West Coast – see e.g. chapter 3 by Carnero in
this volume), and than through the true chiefdoms having even more pro-
nounced stratification and concentration of the political power in the hands
of the chief, to the complex chiefdoms where the political inequality pa-
rameters reach a qualitatively higher levels, and finally to the agrarian state
where all such parameters reach their culmination (though one could move
even further, up to the level of the "empire" [e.g. Adams 1975]). However,
it is very important to stress that on each level of the growing political
complexity one could find easily evident alternatives to this evolutionary
line.
Let us start with the simplest level. The acephalous egalitarian band
is indeed found among most of the unspecialized hunter-gatherers. How-
ever, as has been shown by Woodburn (Woodburn 1972; 1979; 1980;
1982; 1988a; b) and Artemova (Chapter 5 in this volume as wel as Arte-
mova 1987; 1989; 1991; 1993; Chudinova 1981; see also Whyte 1978: 49–
94), some of such hunter-gatherers (the inegalitarian ones, first of all most
of the Australian aborigines) display a significantly different type of socio-
political organization with much more structured political leadership con-
centrated in the hands of relatively hierarchically organized elders, with a
pronounced degree of inequality both between the men and women, and
among the men themselves. We find this difference so profound that we
would suggest to designate those two type of polities with two different
terms1 – reserving band to denote the egalitarian polities, while designating
the inegalitarian ones as local groups; indeed, the locality of the inegali-
tarian groups of hunter-gatherers concentrating around the totemic centers
is much more pronounced than the one of the constantly splitting apart and
fusing egalitarian groups.
On the next level of the political complexity we can also find com-
munities with both hierarchical and non-hierarchical political organization.

1
No doubt, closer studies in the future of unspecialized hunter-gatherers (based on the
anthropological interpretation of the archaeological data) will detect other types of
socio-political organizations.
36
For example, one can mention e.g. the well-known contrast between the
Indians of the Californian North-West and South-East:

"The Californian chiefs were in the centre of economic life, they exercised their con-
trol over the production, distribution and exchange of the social product, and their
power and authority were based mainly on this. Gradually the power of the chiefs
and elders acquired the hereditary character, it became a typical phenomenon for
California.. Only the tribes populating the North-West of California, notwithstanding
their respectively developed and complex material culture, lacked the explicitly ex-
pressed social roles of the chiefs characteristic for other California. At the meantime
they new slavery... The population of this region had an idea of personal wealth..."
&c (Kabo 1986: 180).

One can also immediately recall the communities of Ifugao (e.g. Bar-
ton 1919; 1922; 1938; Meshkov 1982) which lack any pronounced authori-
tarian political leadership compared with the one of the communities of the
North-West coast, but which have comparable level of overall socio-
political complexity.
Hence, already on the levels of simple and middle range communi-
ties we can observe a few types of alternative political forms, each of
which, we believe should be denoted with a separate term.
The possible alternatives to the chiefdoms in the prehistoric South-
West Asia are the nonhierarchical systems of complex acephalous commu-
nities with a pronounced autonomy of single family households. These
communities have been analyzed recently by Berezkin who suggests rea-
sonably the Apa Tanis as their ethnographic parallel (see his chapters 19 in
this volume and the previous one [1995b], as well as Berezkin 1994;
1995a; 1997). Frantsouzoff finds an even more developed example of such
type of polities in ancient South Arabia in Wadi Hadramawt of the 1st mil-
lennium BC (see Chapter 19 of this volume).
Another evident alternative to the chiefdom, as has been argued
above, is constituted by the tribal organization.
We have already (Korotayev 1995a) argued that in general there is
an evident evolutionary alternative to the development of the rigid supra-
communal political structures (chiefdom – complex chiefdom – state) con-
stituted by the development of the internal communal structures together
with the soft supra-communal systems not alienating the communal sover-
eignty (various confederations, amphictyonies &c). One of the most im-
pressive results of the socio-political development along this evolutionary
37
line is the Greek polis (see chapter 17 of this volume [by Moshe Berent]
regarding the statelessness of this type of political systems) some of which
reached overall levels of complexity quite comparable not only with the
ones of chiefdoms, but also with some state societies.
The "tribal" and "polis" series seem to constitute separate evolution-
ary lines, with some distinctive features: the "polis" forms imply the power
of the "magistrates" elected in one or another way for fixed periods and
controlled by the people in the absence of any formal bureaucracy. Within
the tribal systems we observe the absence of any offices whose holders
would be obeyed simply because they hold offices of a certain type, and the
order is sustained by elaborate mechanism of mediation and the search for
consensus.
There is also a considerable number of other complex stateless poli-
ties (like the ones of the Cossacks of Ukraine and Southern Russia [till the
end of the 17th century], or the Icelandic polity of the "Age of Democracy"
[till the middle of the 13th century]) which could not yet be denoted with
any commonly accepted terms, and whose own self-designations are often
too complex (like kazachye voysko) to have any chance to get transformed
into general terms.
Still the other evident alternative to the state seems to be represented
by the supercomplex chiefdoms created by some nomads of Eurasia – the
number of the structural levels within such chiefdoms appear to be equal,
or even to exceed those within the average state, but they have an entirely
different type of political organization and political leadership; such type of
political entities do not appear to have been ever created by the agricultur-
ists (see chapters 21–23 of this volume).
This is not all. There is another evident problem with Service's
scheme. It is evidently pre-"Wallersteinian", not touched by any world-
system discussions, quite confident about the possibility of the use of a sin-
gle polity as a unit of social evolution. It might be not so important if Ser-
vice were speaking about the typology of polities; yet, he speaks about the
"levels of cultural integration", and within such a context the world-system
dimension should be evidently taken into consideration.
The point is that the same overall level of complexity could be
achieved both through the development of a single polity and through the
development of a politically uncentralized interpolity network. This alter-

38
native was already noticed by Wallerstein (1974; 1979; 1987) who viewed
it as a dichotomy: world-economy – world-empire. Note that according to
Wallerstein these are considered precisely as alternatives, and not two
stages of social evolution. As one would expect, we agree with Wallerstein
whole-heartedly at this point. However, we also find here a certain over-
simplification. In general, we would like to stress that we are dealing here
with a particular case of much more general set of the evolutionary alterna-
tives.
The development of a politically uncentralized interpolity network
became an effective alternative to the development of a single polity long
before the rise of the first empires. For example, the interpolity communi-
cation network of the Mesopotamian civil-temple communities of the first
half of the 3rd millennium BC which sustained a much hire level of techno-
logical development than that of the politically unified 3rd millennium BC
Egyptian state. Note that the intercommunal communication networks al-
ready constitute an effective evolutionary alternative to chiefdoms – e.g.
the socio-political system of the Apa Tanis should be better described as an
intercommunal network of a few communities (incidentally, in turn acting
as a core of another wider network including the neighboring less devel-
oped polities [chiefdoms and sovereign communities] – see e.g. Fürer-
Haimendorf 1962).
We also do not find it productive to describe this alternative type of
cultural integration as a world-economy. The point is that such a designa-
tion tends to downplay the political and cultural dimension of such sys-
tems.
Take for example, the Classical Greek inter-poleis system. The level
of complexity of many Greek poleis was rather low even in comparison
with a complex chiefdom. However, they were parts of much larger and
much more complex entity constituted by numerous economic, political
and cultural links and shared political and cultural norms. The economic
links no doubt played some role within this system. But the links of the
other types were not less important. Take e.g. the norm according to which
the inter-poleis wars stopped during the Olympic Games, which secured the
secure passage of people, and consequently the circulation of the enormous
quantities of energy, matter and information within the territory far exceed-
ing the one of an average complex chiefdom. The existence of the inter-

39
poleis communication network made it possible, say, for a person born in
one polis to go to get his education in another polis and to establish his
school in a third. The existence of this system reduced the destructiveness
of inter-poleis warfare for a long time. It was a basis on which it was possi-
ble to undertake important collective actions (which turned out to be essen-
tial at the age of the Greek-Persian wars). &c. As a result, a polis with a
level of complexity lower than the one of the complex chiefdom, turned out
to be a part of a system whose complexity was quite comparable with that
of the state (and not only the early one).
The same can well be said about the intersocietal communication
network of Medieval Europe (comparing its complexity in this case with an
average "world-empire"). Note that in both cases some parts of the respec-
tive systems could be treated as elements of wider world-economies. On
the other hand, not all the parts of the communication networks were quite
integrated economically. This shows that the "world-economies" were not
the only possible type of politically decentralized intersocietal networks.
Actually, in both cases we are dealing with the politically decentralized
civilization which to our mind for most of the human history over the last
few millennia constituted the most effective alternative to the world-
empire. Of course, many of such civilizations could be treated as parts of
larger world-economies. Wallerstein suggests that in the age of the com-
plex societies only the world-economies and world-empires ("historical
systems", i.e. the largest units of social evolution) could only be treated as
units of social evolution in general. Yet we believe that both politically
centralized and decentralized civilizations should also be treated as such.
One should stress again the importance of the cultural dimension of such
systems. Of course, the exchange of bulk goods was important. But ex-
change of information was also important. Note e.g. that the successful de-
velopment of science both in Classical Greece and Medieval Europe be-
came only possible through an intensive intersocietal information ex-
change, whereas the development of science in Europe affected to a sig-
nificant extant the evolution of the Modern World-System.
It is important to stress that the intersocietal communication net-
works could appear among much less complex societies (Wallerstein has
denoted them as "mini-systems" without actually studying them, for a re-
cent review of the research on the archaic intersocietal networks see e.g.

40
Chase-Dunn & Grimes 1995; Chase-Dunn & Hall 1993; 1994; 1995;
1997). Already it seems possible to speak about the communication net-
work covering most of the aboriginal Australia. Again we come here across
a similar phenomenon – a considerable degree of cultural complexity (a
rather complex forms of rituals, mythology, arts, and dance well compara-
ble to the ones of the early agriculturists) could latgely be explained by the
fact that relatively simple Australian local groups were parts of a much
more complex whole: a huge intersocietal communication network that ap-
parently covered most of Australia (e.g. Bahta, Senyuta 1972; Artemova
1987).
The formation of a complex intersocietal communication network on
the intermediate level of complexity could be observed e.g. in the Pre-
Islamic Western Arabia. To a considerable extent it seems to have devel-
oped as a certain substitute for (and, hence, alternative to) the political sys-
tems of the Arabian kingdoms and chiefdoms which were largely destroyed
in the course of the 6th century socio-ecological crisis (Korotayev, Kli-
menko, Proussakov 1999).
The main substance of this rather effective adaptation was simply
that most socio-political systems of the Arabs (or, for the extreme meth-
odological individualists, the Arabs themselves anyhow, it could be well
described in both ways) reacted rather adequately to the socio-ecological
crisis by getting rid of the rigid supra-tribal political structures (i.e. all
those kings, chiefs and their retainers) which started posing a real threat to
their very survival. Indeed, it is rather difficult to imagine anything more
nasty than the royal messengers coming to you in a ''lean year'' (which may
well have been preceded by one or two similar years) and demanding from
you to pay royal taxes when you and your children have nothing to eat.
However, the Arabs did not only destroy most of those rigid political
supra-communal structures, which were alienating the tribal sovereignty;
they also developed their alternatives – soft structures not posing any threat
to the sovereignty of tribes. Most noticeable of them seems to be the devel-
opment of the system of sacred enclaves, regular pilgrimages to them and
the regular pilgrim fairs (mawāsim [ÁmAÌ¿]) which accompanied those
pilgrimages.
The result was the development of effective intersocietal networks,
of which the best known is the Western Arabian religious-political area (the

41
functioning and evolution of which, incidentally, left a noticeable trace on
the history of the World System as a whole).
It seems to have been formed as a result of the expansion of the
zones of influence of the respective sanctuaries, their interweaving into one
more or less integrated religious-political area.
This of course was primarily a religious area, yet it had evident po-
litical dimensions too. It was in the pilgrimage-fairs (mawāsim) at the
above mentioned sanctuaries ''that traditional tribal society established its
manifold contacts, the exchange of the religious and cultural ideas, as well
as the barter of products with only use-value. Furthermore, the various le-
gal problems (armistice, debts, benefits, payment of blood-money, bailing
out of prisoners, finding of clients, looking for disappeared persons, ques-
tions of heritage, etc.) of the participants were also settled there. This ex-
change of ideas and goods, as well as the spreading of legal customs and
cults common to several tribes, that is, regular social contact in general,
played no negligible role in the extension of particular tribal consciousness''
(Simon 1989: 90; also see especially Wellhausen 1897/1961: 88-91).
As a result we can observe the formation of a certain political area
more or less correlating with the religious area. In this area certain norms
of not only religious, but also political culture were shared; the people
would avoid killing travelers during ašhur hurum, the holy months (and
would consider the same parts of the year as the holy months); the repre-
sentatives of various tribes would go to the same places to settle their con-
flicts, and would observe the same rules of political mediation &c. The
most remarkable fact is the almost complete absence of significant inter-
tribal warfare in ''the Area of the Four Sanctuaries'' (Majannah, dhū-l-
Majāz, 'Ukaz and Mecca [of course, 'Arafah and Minā could be also added
to this list, separately from Mecca; however, they could be also regarded as
parts of the Meccan Haram]) between the time of its final formation (i.e.
Harb al-Fijār in the last decade of the 6th century AD) and the start of the
clashes with the Muslims. Actually at this time we can observe in the ''Area
of Four Sanctuaries'' (In the early 7th century AD it covered not only West-
ern Arabia, but also considerable parts of the other Arabian regions) cul-
tural-political entity, which in the absence of any significant political cen-
tralization secured the existence of a huge cultural network within which a

42
very intensive (and very productive) exchange of information, energy and
matter took place.
This type of cultural-political entities seems to be also ignored
(without any reasonable justification) by practically all the ''classical'' theo-
ries of social evolution and does not seem to fit in any way in the ''band –
tribe – chiefdom – state'' scheme (with all its modifications). Indeed, all
the Western Arabian polities of the early 7th century appear to have had a
rather ''primitive'' socio-political structures. This seems to be valid even
with respect to the Meccan community (see e.g. Dostal 1991). According to
such schemes the respective polities could be only classified as ''autono-
mous communities'', ''tribes'', at most as ''chiefdoms'' (though most Arabian
''chiefdoms'' seem to have disintegrated in the second half of the 6th cen-
tury AD). However, they were parts of a much wider cultural-political en-
tity whose overall level of social complexity may well be compared with
the one of an average ''early state''; though lacking the political centraliza-
tion this entity fails to find its place in the above mentioned schemes. This
appears to be true with respect to any processes of socio-cultural growth
which are not accompanied by the growing political centralization, or espe-
cially going in hand with the political decentralization.
However, even this is not all. The final point is that many of the enti-
ties traditionally denoted as "states" and "empires" on a closer examination
turn out to be something more complex than those. Earlier we showed that
the so-called Middle Sabaean Kingdom (North-East Yemen, the 2nd and
3rd centuries AD) was actually a system consisting of a weak state in its
center and strong chiefdoms on its periphery (+, possibly, a few civil-
temple communities in the central zone and a few true tribes in the distant
periphery). In the early Islamic period this entity appears to have been
transformed into a system consisting of a bit stronger state in its center and
true tribes (by no means chiefdoms) on its periphery (see chapter 18 of this
monograph – "The Chiefdom: Precursor of the Tribe?", and also Korotayev
1995a; 1995b; 1995c; 1996a; 1996b; 1996c; 1997; 1998). We suggest ap-
plying here some term like a "multipolity", defining it as a highly integrated
system consisting of politically subordinated heterogeneous polities (e.g. of
state and chiefdoms, or state and tribes). Such entities should be of course
distinguished from the politically decentralized intersocietal networks con-
sisting of independent, sovereign polities. There do not seem to be any

43
ground to consider the multipolity as a local South Arabian phenomenon.
Extra-South-Arabian examples of multipolities of the North Yemeni Zaydī
type ("state + tribes") could be easily found e.g. in the Middle East of the
last two centuries (see e.g. Evans-Pritchard 1949; Eickelman 1981: 85-104;
Tapper 1983; Al-Rasheed 1994 &c); the extra-Yemen examples of the mul-
tipolities of the Middle Sabaean type ("state + chiefdoms [+`independent'
communities]") could be easily found again in the Middle East where a
considerable number of so-called tribes would be classified as chiefdoms if
we used Service's terminology [Service 1971 /1962/: 144]; Johnson, Earle
1987: 238–243 &c]). Outside the Middle East this type of the multipolity
can be found e.g. in Western Africa (the Benin Kingdom in some periods
of its history – Bondarenko 1994; 1995a; 1995b; 1995c; 1996; 1997, 1998;
Bondarenko & Roese 1998) and perhaps some other West African "king-
doms" [Service 1971 /1962/: 144]). Of course, the two above-mentioned
types of multipolities do not exhaust all their possible types. Regarding the
lower levels of complexity one could mention e.g. the "State of the Saints"
of the Central Atlas, whose periphery consisted of tribes, but whose center
can be characterized neither as a state, nor as a chiefdom, nor as a tribe
(Gellner 1969).
However, multipolities can also be found at higher levels of com-
plexity. Actually, most of the so-called pre-industrial agrarian empires on
closer examination turn out to be just multipolities.
For example, the empires of Ancient India appear to be better char-
acterized not by the term state, but rather by the Sanskrit mandala, which
looks like a virtual synonym of multipolity (see chapter 20 by Lelioukhine
and also Vigasin & Lelioukhine 1987; Lelioukhine 1989; 1993; 1998).1
The Achemenid Empire also looks more like a multipolity consisting of the
state in its center and a variety of polities of various types on its periphery

1
The term man˜d˜ala has already started being applied to the socio-political systems
outside India itself, incidentally, to denote precisely those types of entities which we
call multipolities (see e.g. Christie 1995). Christie seems to consider such socio-
political systems to be rather unusual (e.g. Christie 1995: 269), whereas Claessen
(1996) appears to agree with her on this point, though he tends to consider the centers
of such systems as quite typical early states. Our position is different from either
Christie’s or Claussen’s – we believe that such systems are not unusual at all: most
(though not all) of the pre-Modern large political territorial entities ("empires") on a
closer inspection turn out to be multipolities (mandalas) rather than monopolities
(states).
44
(Greek poleis of Asia Minor, civil-temple communities of Mesopotamia
and Palestine &c); an obvious example of a multipolity is of course the
medieval "Roman Empire of the German Nation". It is possible to find mo-
nopolity empires like the Chinese Qin/Ch'in one, or the Roman Empire in
the Dominate period (but not in the Principate one); yet they appear less
numerous than the multipolity ones.
One, of course, would tend to find a state at the center of such a mul-
tipolity. However, this does not always appear to be the case. E.g. Skryn-
nikova suggests that even at the center of the Mongolian Empire one finds
a supercomplex chiefdom rather than a state, whereas the state structures
turn out to be concentrated on the multipolity periphery (see chapter 22 of
the present monograph). This does not appear to be an exception, but seems
to be applicable to most of the empires created by the nomads (see section
V of the present monograph). Yet, the state does not appear to be always
found in the center of some other empires either. The early Islamic polity
cannot be regarded as an empire created by nomads – its leaders were
rather from the sedentary populations of Mecca and Yathrib, and the Yem-
eni agriculturists were as important a part of Islamic armies as the bedouins
of Central Arabia (e.g. al-Mad'aj 1988); however, while the Arabians inher-
ited some state structures on the periphery of their multipolity, the center of
this "empire" up to the 660s could hardly be characterized as a true state,
rather it consisted of a combination of features associated with a theocratic
chiefdom and a civil community. This multipolity deserves a special term
for its designation (e.g. Arabic ummah?). It took considerable effort on the
part of the Omayyads to get the center of the early Islamic "Empire" trans-
formed into a true state. Furthermore, those Omayyad activities met with
considerable resistance on the part of a significant part of the ummah. It
took two civil wars (a virtual political revolution) to achieve this transfor-
mation. Finally, one can hardly avoid recalling the late Roman Republic,
which was actually a multipolity with emerging state structures on its pe-
riphery, but still with the civitas (i.e. a stateless political form of the polis
type [e.g. Shtaerman 1989]) at its center.
Hence, we would insist that various levels of political complexity
could correspond to the same level of overall socio-cultural complexity,
whereas a few types of polities could correspond to the same level of po-
litical complexity. Thus, it appears entirely impossible to arrange in a sin-

45
gle line even the forms of political organization. It is evident that if we take
into consideration more parameters of social evolution we shall get an even
more non-unilineal picture.

2. Ambilineal approach
Some of the Asiatic mode of production theory supporters (see a
more detailed discussion in: Krader 1975; Sawer 1977; Bailey & LLobera
1981; Dunn 1982; Gellner 1988; Bratkiewicz 1989; O'Leary 1989; Jaksic
1991 etc.) were the adherents of evolutionary multilinearity. Two ideas de-
veloped by Marx and Engels formed the basis for most multilinear interpre-
tations. The first idea was formulated in Gründrisse (1857–1861), in a pas-
sage where Marx analyzed social formations preceding capitalism. He
identified three forms of Gemeinwesen: Asiatic, Classical and Germanic
which could be interpreted as independent forms of transition to statehood.
The second idea was formulated by Engels in Anti-Düring (1878) where he
proposed an idea of two paths leading to state formation (one being Orien-
tal and the other Classical, which he alleged to be based on slavery).
Both ideas were developed by Marxist scholars. Many have written
on the principal difference of paths of development between the West,
where a dynamic balance was formed between the state and different
classes, and the Orient where the ruling elite was simultaneously both the
state and the ruling class (Sawer 1977; Bratkiewicz 1989; Jaksic 1991 &c).
This idea was most thoroughly developed by Vasil'ev (1983; 1993 and
chapter 6 in this volume) who introduced into this model a number of Neo-
evolutionist propositions.
He proposed that the general line of social evolution was constituted
by a process of gradual transformations from autonomous communities into
the chiefdoms and, further, into the early and mature states. This process
was based on a monopolization of access to control over the production and
redistribution. As the power and place in a hierarchy determined the status
of an individual, the private property played a subordinate role. In such a
society, there are no citizens, only subjects. As a result, the state1 mode of
production was formed.

1
Vasil'ev believes that this term is better than Asiatic by virtue of its interregional na-
ture.
46
The European (Greek and Roman) model (private-ownership mode
of production) is a 'mutation'. The commodity relations, private ownership
and political equality of the polis citizens were characteristic of it. The law
was orientated to the observance of legality and protection of citizens. Ul-
timately, this determined the dynamic of development in Western Europe
and caused the formation of the "rule of law" and civil society in the Mod-
ern period (see Chapter 4 of this monograph).
These conclusions were supported by other scholars (Kiselev 1985;
Pavlenko 1989; Ivanov 1993 etc.), and similar ideas have been expressed
by some Western anthropologists (Southall 1991; Morrison 1994 &c).
Other scholars constructed more complex models, considering the
Asiatic, Classical, and Germanic communities as both more developed
forms of Gemeinwesen and independent lines of historical development. In
such a key, for example, the papers of Tökei (1979) were written. Fursov
(1989) considers that Gemeinwesen of Marx are stages delineating the suc-
cessive liberation of the social agent's qualities from their collective nature.
This world-wide historical process was developing along two planes: dead-
end Asiatic forms where the system dominated the individual, and advanc-
ing Western structures, where, in each higher social formation, successive
emancipation of the social agent was achieved.
According to Godelier, the Asiatic and Classical social formations
are evolutionary deadlocks as they only lead to the Asiatic and slave-
owning modes of production. The Germanic form of Gemeinwesen gives
rise to feudalism and from it to the capitalist society. Even Japan imported
capitalism from the West (Godelier 1969). But Melotti (1977) argued that
there are five pathways of evolution. He added to the three Gemeinwesen of
Marx the 'Russian' pathway to bureaucratic socialism as well as a particular
type of archaic Gemeinwesen preceding the Japanese feudalism and capital-
ism.

3. Multilineal approach
Julian Steward (1955) is most often acknowledged to be the founder
of this (1955). However, the most influential version of this approach
seems was formulated by Sahlins (1960). Sahlins suggested that multilineal

47
evolution should be viewed as a result of the interaction between "general"
and "specific" components. "Specific evolution" is defined as "the historic
development of particular cultural forms..., phylogenetic transformation
through adaptation"; "general evolution" is defined as "the progression of
classes of forms, or in other words, the succession of culture through stages
of overall progress" (Sahlins 1960: 43). "General cultural evolution, to
summarize, is passage from less to greater energy transformation, lower to
higher levels of integration, and less to greater all-round adaptability"
(Sahlins 1960: 38).
Indeed, this approach could be denoted as multilineal – it actually
suggests an indefinite number of individual evolutionary trajectories (and,
hence, in some sense, evolutionary alternatives) as a result of the interac-
tion of those two components. However, we believe such an approach does
not provide any really adequate basis for the study of the alternatives of so-
cial evolution.
Sahlins' idea has already been criticized a few times on various
grounds (e.g. Harris 1968; Ingold 1986: 18-21; Sanderson 1990:132-133
&c). However, we believe our critique is a bit more comprehensive, and so
we shall present it though it incorporates some of the criticisms of the pre-
vious critics.
The least important point is that the very notions of "general" and
"specific" evolution are thoroughly misleading, especially, taking into con-
sideration the fact that Sahlins applies them to both social and biological
evolution. Indeed, "diversification is proceeding at all levels most of the
time, whereas 'upward' movement is extraordinarily rare" (Ingold 1986: 19
with reference to Stebbins 1969: 120). Hence, it is the "specific evolution"
which should rather be called "general", whereas the "general" evolution
appears to belong to a rather specific type of evolutionary processes.
However, the really important criticism is something else. Take "the
passage from lower to higher levels of integration". Let us see how Sahlins
describe those levels with respect to social evolution:

"On the primitive level, the unsegmented (except for families) and chiefless bands
are least advanced – and characteristically, preagricultural. More highly developed
are agricultural and pastoral tribes segmented into clans, lineages, and the like, al-
though lacking strong chiefs. Higher than such egalitarian tribes, and based on
greater productivity, are chiefdoms with internal status differentiation and developed
chieftainship..." &c up to the state (Sahlins 1960: 37).
48
Hence, we find here instead of the description of various levels of in-
tegration the familiar Service's scheme. Of course, we do not mean that
Sahlins borrowed this scheme from Service. It was rather Service who took
Sahlins' sketch and developed his scheme on its basis, retaining, however,
all the mistakes already embodied into this sketch. The main mistake is that
here the levels of cultural integration are equated with certain socio-
political forms. The resultant implication is that only one socio-political
form could correspond to the given level of integration. This way Sahlins
overlooks the most interesting alternatives of social evolution. However, it
is difficult to find any reasonable justification for this even within Sahlins
approach. It is difficult to understand why qualitatively new forms should
appear only through the processes of "general" evolution. Why could not
they appear through the "specific" evolution, i.e. "phylogenetic transforma-
tion through adaptation"? Above, we mentioned two such cases of the
emergence of qualitatively new forms as a result of adaptation to changing
natural environment within roughly the same level of cultural integration –
the transformation of chiefdoms into tribes as a result of a socio-ecological
crisis in North-East Yemen at the end of the 1st millennium AD, and the
transformation of the chiefdom and state structures into a soft intertribal
communication network as a result of the Arab adaptation to the 6th cen-
tury AD socio-ecological crisis. As has been argued there was no decrease
in the level of cultural integration as a result of those transformations. What
is more, there are no grounds to believe that those transformations were
unique in the human history.
However, even this is not the most important point. According to
Sahlins the only source for alternative processes of social evolution is "spe-
cific" evolution. He conceives "general" evolution to be an entirely unilin-
eal process. However, this does not appear to be true. It seems to be per-
fectly possible to speak about the alternatives of "general" evolution as
well. And the alternatives of "general" evolution turn out to be the most in-
teresting ones.
As we remember, Sahlins speaks about three parameters of "general"
evolution: "passage from less to greater energy transformation[1], lower to
higher levels of integration[2], and less to greater all-round adaptabil-
ity[3]". Here he makes the two mistakes made by all the unilinearists:

49
(1) he treats a set of imperfectly correlated parameters as a single parame-
ter, and (2) he believes that there is a perfect 100% correlation between all
his sets of parameters.
Let us start with his first mistake, concerning his first "general evolu-
tion" parameter. Sahlins maintains:

"...Progress is the total transformation of energy involved in the creation and per-
petuation of a cultural organization. A culture harnesses and delivers energy; it ex-
tracts energy from nature and transforms it into people, material goods, and work,
into political systems and the generation of ideas, into social customs and into adher-
ence to them. The total energy so transformed from the free to the cultural state, in
combination perhaps with the degree to which it is raised in the transformation (the
loss in entropy), may represent a culture's general standing, a measure of its
achievement" (Sahlins 1960: 35).

Note here the qualification "in combination perhaps with the degree
to which it is raised in the transformation (the loss in entropy)". This seems
to suggest that Sahlins suspects that he is actually speaking about two vari-
ables, and not one. Indeed, it is evident that what matters within such a con-
text is not only the total amount of energy "involved in the creation and
perpetuation of a cultural organization", but also how effectively this en-
ergy is transformed. Sahlins appears to have decided that those two vari-
ables could be treated as one simply because he repeats the mistake of his
teacher, Leslie White who believed that the growth according to one of
these parameters was going hand in hand with the other (e.g. White 1949:
Chapter XIII). However, the empirical data show that the correlation be-
tween those variables is much more complex, and for most of human his-
tory it was mainly negative: a gatherer spending 1 joule of energy obtains a
few hundred joules in food, in extensive agriculture this figure falls below
100 joules in food per 1 joule of the energy spent; it further falls down to
10 joules in intensive pre-industrial agriculture and to just 1 joule in inten-
sive industrial agriculture, whereas in the most intensive industrial (hot-
house) agriculture this figure sometimes falls down to 0.001 (Lyuri 1994:
14–30). Yet, just to maintain the existence of a strong negative correlation
between those two parameters would also be an oversimplification. It is
true that in the main branch of the pre-industrial agrarian economy we do
observe such a correlation; however, already in pre-industrial non-
agricultural production we can frequently observe important rises in the ef-

50
ficiency of the energy use (connected e.g. with the elaboration of ovens,
mills, transmissions &c [e.g. White 1962]). Hence, what is presented by
Sahlins as a single variable turns out to be a set of a great number of rather
weakly correlated variables. In any case, already within the first Sahlins pa-
rameter of "general" evolution we have an entirely real and important (es-
pecially for the present-day World System) evolutionary alternative:
whether the rise of the social complexity is sustained by the growth of the
total amount of energy "involved in the creation and perpetuation of a cul-
tural organization", or by the rise of the efficiency of the transformation of
the already available amounts of energy. Actually, it is evident that with
just these two variables we could observe an indefinite number of combina-
tions (the fast growth of the both, the efficiency growing faster than the to-
tal amount of energy decreasing, the opposite combination &c, &c) and
consequently an indefinite number of possible directions of "general" evo-
lution.
Above, we have already argued at length with regard to Sahlins' sec-
ond parameter of "general evolution" ("passage from lower to higher levels
of integration") that there are no grounds at all to speak about a single line
of such a "passage", and that this passage presents a considerable number
of important evolutionary alternatives.
Take now Sahlins' third parameter, "passage from less to greater all-
round adaptability". Sahlins maintains:
"General progress can also be viewed as improvement in 'all-round adaptability'.
Higher cultural forms tend to dominate and replace lower, and the range of domi-
nance is proportionate to the degree of progress. So modern national culture tend to
spread around the globe, before our eyes replacing, transforming, and extinguishing
representatives of millennia-old stages of evolution, while archaic civilization, now
also falling before this advance, even in its day was confined to certain sectors of
certain of the continents. The dominance power of higher cultural forms is a conse-
quence of their ability to exploit greater ranges of energy resources more effectively
than lower forms. Higher forms are again relatively 'free from environmental con-
trol', i.e., they adapt to greater environmental variety than lower forms" (Sahlins
1960: 37).
It is not difficult to see here again that Sahlins makes here again his
typical mistake presenting as a single variable what is actually a group of
weakly (and sometimes even negatively) correlated variables. First of all,
this group consists of two subgroups: (1) the parameters of the adaptability
to natural environment and (2) those dealing with adaptability to the exter-
nal social environment. Sahlins seems to believe that those cultural forms

51
that have better adapted to the natural environment ("exploiting greater
ranges of energy resources more effectively") are also necessarily better
adapted to the external social environment ("dominating and replacing
lower forms"). But this is not the case. Often these are precisely the cultural
forms that are poorly adapted to natural environment which dominate and
replace better adapted ones. The classical example in this respect seems to
be provided by the history of the Nuer – Dinka relationships.
As shown by Kelly (1985) what was initially a rather small group of
"proto-Nuer" differentiated themselves from the culturally similar "proto-
Dinka" around 300 to 400 years ago. An essential feature of this differen-
tiation appears to be that the Nuer stopped slaughtering their young bulls
for meat. As a result their culture became much less efficiently adapted to
their natural environment than the Dinka's; and this happened just because
the Nuer began using the energy resources much less effectively than the
Dinka whose herds consisted mainly of cows, whereas the Nuer dissipated
immense amounts of energy (first of all in fodder) to sustain their huge bull
herds without getting any adequate return in energy back. As a result,
though the Nuer occupied generally better environment, their economy was
only able to sustain much less dense human population. However, this very
innovation which diminished the Nuer adaptability to their natural envi-
ronment significantly enhanced their adaptability to their external social
environment. Though their bull herds were senseless and counterproductive
from the economic-ecological point of view, the great numbers of those
very bulls constituted a sort of "social currency" used to sustain an exten-
sive network of alliances which made it possible for the Nuer to develop a
rather sophisticated segmentary lineage system that permitted the Nuer to
mobilize effectively immense amounts of the manpower directed normally
just against the ecologically more adapted Dinka who, however, lacked a
comparable effective mobilization system. As a result, it turned out to be
precisely the ecologically worse adapted Nuer who were more adapted to
the social environment. It was the ecologically worse adapted Nuer cultural
forms which dominated and replaced more ecologically adapted Dinka
forms. What is more, it was just the decline of ecological adaptability
which made it possible for the Nuer to raise the level of their external so-
cial adaptability.

52
Of course, it is not difficult to show that in their turn both "natural"
and "social" adaptability are not unidimensional variables, but rather
groups of weakly correlated parameters. But the general picture must al-
ready be entirely clear. There are not any grounds at all to speak about any-
thing like a single line of general evolution. Even if we try to consider what
Sahlins presents as unidimensional parameters of the "general evolution",
on a closer inspection we find out that each of them turns out to be a group
of weakly correlated variables, that do not, even weakly support the idea of
a single line of "general evolution". Even at this level Sahlins cannot just
speak about the "line of general evolution", but must consider a "general
evolution field" wich necessarily has an infinite number of possible evolu-
tionary alternatives.
In their turn, Sahlins’ three parameters correlate weakly with each
other, increasing even more the nonunilinearity of the "general evolution".
Let us start with the Sahlins second and third parameters of "general
evolution", i.e. the "passage from... lower to higher levels of integration[2],
and less to greater all-round adaptability[3]". Sahlins believes that the
"higher" (i.e. in the context of Sahlins' paper just more politically central-
ized) "cultural forms" always "dominate and replace the lower forms". But
this is not the case. Actually, this was already noticed and explained three
and a half centuries before Sahlins by a much more attentive observer of
social life, an Ethiopian monk named Bahrey (1593 [1954]).1
Bahrey tried to answer the question why the politically centralized
regular Ethiopian state experienced constant defeats on the part of the much
less political centralized and developed Galla tribes ("How is it that the
Galla defeat us, though we are numerous and well supplied with arms?"
[Bahrey 1954 {1593}: 125]). The answer which Bahrey proposed is very
interesting and convincing. He argued that the Ethiopian system experi-
enced constant defeats on the part of the much less developed Galla tribes
precisely because it was much more developed and socially differentiated.
The very high level of internal differentiation turns out to be able to be
within certain (frequently occurring) circumstances a source of military
weakness:

1
This was noticed two centuries before Bahrey and explained (though a bit less con-
vincingly, to our minds) by Ibn KhalduCn (Ibn KhalduCn 1995).
53
"How is it that the Galla defeat us, though we are numerous and well supplied with
arms?... It is because our nation is divided into ten classes, nine of which take no part
whatever in war, and make no shame of displaying their fear; only the tenth class
makes war and fights to the best of its ability. Now, although we are numerous, those
who can fight in war are few in number, and there are many who do not go to war.
Of these classes, the first is that of the monks, of whom there are vast num-
bers. Among them are those who become monks at an early age, drawn thereto by
the other monks while they are studying, as indeed was the case with him who has
written this history, and others like him. There are also others who become monks
because they fear war. A second group is composed of those who are called dabtarā,
or clerks; they study the holy books and all works relating to the occupations of the
clergy; they clap their hands and stamp their feet during divine service, and have no
shame for their fear of going to the wars. These people take as their models the le-
vites and priests, namely, the sons of Aaron. The third group is that of the people
called Jān Hasanā and Jān Ma'āsarē, who look after the administration of justice, and
keep themselves from war. The fourth group is formed by those who escort the wives
of dignitaries and the princesses; they are vigorous, brave, and strong men who nev-
ertheless do not go to war, for they say, `We are the protectors of the women.' The
fifth group calls itself Šemāgellē, `elders'; they are the lords and hereditary landown-
ers: they share their land with their labourers, and are not ashamed of their fear. The
sixth group is that of the labourers in agriculture, who live in the fields and have no
thought of taking part in war. The seventh group is composed of those who engage in
trade and gain profit thereby. The eighth group is that of the artisans, such as the
smiths, scribes, carpenters, and such-like, who know not the art of war. The ninth
group is that of the wandering singers, those who play the qanda kabaro [a small
drum] and the baganā, whose profession is to beg, to collect money. They invoke
blessings on those who reward them, flattering them with vain praises and idle pane-
gyrics; while those who refuse to give them presents they curse, though they are not
blameworthy for this, for, as they say, `This is our custom.' Such people keep them-
selves as far as possible from war. The tenth group, finally, is composed of those
who carry the shield and spear, who can fight, and who follow the steps of their king
to war. It is because these are so few in number that our country is ruined.
Among the Galla, on the contrary, these nine classes which we have men-
tioned do not exist; all men, from small to great, are instructed in warfare, and for
this reason they ruin and kill us" (Bahrey 1954 [1593]: 125–126).

There are all grounds to believe that the cases when less developed
societies turn out to be militarily stronger than more developed ones are not
mere "mistakes of history". One of the general models explaining the exis-
tence of such cases could be described as follows. The politically central-
ized systems frequently achieve military superiority through the develop-
ment of specialized military subsystems with relatively small but well
trained and armed professional armies. However, the necessary condition
of the continuation of such a superiority is normally the monopoly over
certain effective weapons (chariots, bronze arms &c). If a certain revolution
in the production of the means of violence leads to the appearance of some
effective weapons the monopoly over which could not be effectively main-

54
tained (e.g. iron arms), less politically centralized societies with a higher
military participation ratio then acquire considerable advantages and could
become militarily stronger than more politically centralized ones (which
appears to have taken place in many parts of the Old World Oikumene in
the early Iron Age, or the Late Antiquity). In addition to that, less politi-
cally centralized societies with high military participation ratio could in-
crease significantly their military efficiency without any considerable in-
crease in their political centralization or internal differentiation (e.g.
through the nomadization) by increasing specialization in the animal hus-
bandry, as the very everyday economic activity and socialization of a
herder produces a warrior. The full-scale nomadic economy (employing ex-
tensive use of the mounts) would increase the military potential of such so-
cieties in an especially significant way without any corresponding signifi-
cant increase in the degree of their political centralization and functional
differentiation.
Now consider the correlation between Sahlins’s first and second
"general evolution" parameters – "passage from less to greater energy
transformation...[and]...lower to higher levels of integration." We noted that
Sahlins identified the "passage from... lower to higher levels of integration"
with the movement along the band – tribe – chiefdom – state line, and thus,
with increasing political centralization. At first glance, the correlation looks
strong: the more politically centralized systems do tend to control signifi-
cantly greater amounts of energy than the less politically centralized ones,
e.g. states transform more energy than chiefdoms and chiefdoms transform
more energy than indpendent villages and so on.
As to be expected, not everything is as simple as it might appear at
the first glance. It is true that political centralization normally leads to an
increase in the amounts of energy "transformed" by respective systems. But
those amounts of energy could also increase without any accompanying
growth of political centralization. Further, politically uncentralized systems
can transform amounts of energy comparable to those of the politically cen-
tralized ones (or even exceed them). For example, the medieval Swiss Con-
federation of civil communities, or the vol'nye obshchestva of Early Mod-
ern Daghestan transformed amounts of energy comparable with those of an
average early state. On the other hand, the amounts of energy transformed
by the Classical Greek "commonwealth" of stateless poleis, or the Roman

55
pre-state civitas, exceeded them significantly. In addition, the "energy" set
of parameters consists of two subgroups: the first one is how much energy
is transformed and the other one is how effectively the energy is trans-
formed. Recall that we mentioned that effectiveness is negatively (and
rather strongly) correlated with the intensification of agriculture. On the
other hand, we know that the intensification of agriculture is positively
(and rather strongly too) correlated with the political centralization
(e. g. Korotayev 1989; 1991a). This is sufficient evidence to conclude that
political centralization must be negatively (and rather strongly) correlated
with the effectiveness with which energy is transformed.1 However, "inten-
sity of agriculture" also correlates positively with general sociocultural
complexity (Ember 1963; Textor 1967, Computer Printout: 91/53, 55;
92/54, 56; 93/54; Ember & Levinson 1991; &c).
Yet, there are grounds to suggest that in the more politically central-
ized preindustrial complex societies the effectiveness of the energy trans-
formation was even lower than in politically less centralized societies of
comparable complexity. Indeed, as preindustrial societies become more po-
litically centralized there is a concomitant drop in the accountability of the
central administration (in the early states, the central administration is al-
most always less accountable than in chiefdoms, whereas in empires it is
normally even less accountable than in the early states [e. g. Koro-
tayev & Blümchen 1991]). Hence, with political centralization the amount
of energy accumulated by the administrative center tends to significantly
increase, while, at the same time, its accountability tends to decrease sig-
nificantly. All this results in a particularly ineffective use of the accumu-
lated resources – the center gets those huge resources apparently for free,
whereas the control over the effectiveness of their use is rather weak.1
Normally, complex stateless societies control much smaller amounts
of energy than preindustrial empires. However, the use of (usually rather
modest) resources accumulated by the political centers of such entities
(characterized by a high political participation ratio) turns out to be tightly
controlled. Thus, the effectiveness of the use of those very modest re-
sources by stateless societies is normally significantly higher than by vast
1
At least for the period up to the 1970s.

56
preindustrial empires.2 Hence, in considering the interaction between
Sahlins’s first and second "general evolution" parameters, we have found
that there exists, again, a number of important alternatives for sociocultural
development.3
Finally, let us consider the correlation between Sahlins’s first and
third "general evolution" parameters – the first parameter is the "passage
from less to greater energy transformation" and the third is the "less to
greater all-round adaptability". At first glance, the strong correlation be-
tween the amount of energy transformed by a given cultural system and its
"all-round adaptability" appears self-evident. But again, this is only at first
glance. On closer inspection one might ask the following question: "Is the
stability of an adaptation an important characteristic of all-round adaptabil-
ity?" Evidently, it is. But taking this into consideration, we find out imme-
diately that what matters is not just how much energy the given cultural
system extracts from its environment, but what kind of sources are used to
extract that energy – renewable oness or those that are limited and unre-
newable. All-round adaptability of the given cultural form is unequivocally
enhanced only when increases in the amounts of energy utilized are ob-
tained from renewable sources.4 If this is achieved through the consump-

1
For an eye-witness description of the waste of the accumulated resources in the very
center of an essentially pre-industrial empire see e. g. the memoirs of the last Chinese
emperor (Pu I 1968).
2
A good example over here is provided by the history of the Greek-Persian wars when
the Greek poleis managed to use their modest resources so more effectively than the
Persian Empire.
3
However, it is still possible to find a strong correlation between some dimensions of
these two groups of parameters. Yet, in order to do this we should take the most inte-
grative indicators. Within the first group of parameters instead of analyzing separately
the amount of energy transformed by cultural systems and the effectiveness of this
transformation, it would be necessary to treat the integrative variable – the amount of
usefully transformed energy. Within the second group of parameters it would be nec-
essary to treat overall sociocultural complexity instead of one of its multidimensional
indexes - the level of cultural integration. In this case, the correlation could well be
close to 1.0. However, one wonders if this should not be regarded as mostly a result
of autocorrelation. Indeed, the amount of energy usefully transformed by the given
social system (actually to sustain and develop its sociocultural complexity) could well
be regarded as a thermodynamic measure of its sociocultural complexity. Ee are,
therefore, measuring the correlation between two representations of essentially the
same variable. In the case of a perfect measurement one would not be surprised to
find a correlation of 1.0.
4
Needless to say, there are two other necessary conditions: (1) the efficiency of energy
consumption should not decline faster than the increase in the harnessing energy; (2)
57
tion of limited unrenewable energy sources, such an adaptation can only be
regarded as temporary. We can only say for sure that the given cultural sys-
tem is successfully adapted to its environment when the main mass of
transformed energy is obtained either from renewable sources or from
unlimited nonrenewable sources; and, secondly, when the speed of energy
consumption does not significantly exceed the speed with which the source
is renewed.
From this perspective, most, if not all, present-day complex socio-
cultural systems are not as well adapted to their natural environment than
the most simple hunter-gatherer systems (or even the medium-complex sys-
tems of preindustrial intensive agriculturalists). This is because the former
(unlike the latter) rely heavily for their reproduction on the consumption of
limited unrenewable energy sources. In any case, it is too early to judge
that the modern world-system is better adapted to the natural environment
of our planet than the previous "historical systems." It will only be possible
to assert this if the modern world-system manages to make the transition to
a "sustainable development" pattern. But, it is not yet self-evident that it
will be able to do this without transforming itself into a qualitatively differ-
ent system (and, incidentally, in a non-catastrophic way – see Chapter 4 by
Leonid Vasiliev in this volume).
Typically there is a negative correlation between the amount of en-
ergy a given cultural form consumes and the stability of its adaptation to
the natural environment because the more energy a society consumes, the
more difficult it becomes for this society to secure the full renewal of its
energy base. Incidentally, we question whether such a thing as "all-round
adaptability" really exists at all and whehther, if it exists, it is useful. In
fact, adaptability appears to be not just one unidimensional parameter, but a
group of multidimensional parameters that are weakly (and, sometimes,
negatively) correlated with each other. For instance, society "A" could be
more adapted than society "B" in one respect and less adapted in another.
The whole problem is further complicated by the next problem.
Already Sahlins dichotomized his adaptability variable into "adapt-
edness" first to the natural environment and second to the external sociocul-
tural environenment. The relation between energy transformation and

the amount of energy consumed within the given period should not exceed the
amount of energy renewed within the same period.
58
adaptedness of this second type is rather special. We need to ask, which
"cultural forms tended to dominate and replace" others throughout most of
human history?1 The answer is quite simple and unattractive – the ones
which were stronger militarily. Hence, what matters for the second type of
adaptability is not the total amount of energy transformed by the given cul-
tural system, but specifically the amount of energy which that cultural sys-
tem manages to mobilize and channel for military purposes, and also how
effectively this energy is used. As a result, cultural forms that transform
smaller amounts of energy and effectively use greater parts of it for mili-
tary purposes would tend to dominate those cultural forms that transform
greater amounts of energy but use less effectively smaller parts of it for
those purposes. The above described cases of the Nuer – Dinka and Galla –
Ethiopian relations serve as good illustrations for this point. Yet, they
could be easily augmented by dozens of cases from the history of relations
between the nomads and agriculturists of Eurasia and North Africa. Hence,
on the level of interaction between the Sahlins first and third "general evo-
lution" parameters we again find a number of important alternatives for so-
ciocultural development.
From our point of view, though Sahlins presented his approach as a
truly multilineal one, it was actually an attempt to save the unilineal ap-
proach, its core. Having admitted the multilinearity of social evolution in
general, he virtually insisted on the unilinearity of social development. The
only real alternatives within Sahlins's approach is to move 'up' or 'down'
along the single line of "general evolution". In other words, Sahlins admits
the nonunilinearity of social evolution, but asserts the unilinearity of social
development (as defined at the beginning of this chapter), thus missing the
most interesting evolutionary alternatives: the alternatives of social devel-
opment. In fact, the most important evolutionary alternative is not whether
or not the given system develops. What is much more important is to ask in
which direction it develops.

4. Non-lineal approach
From what has been mentioned thus far it must be quite clear that we
are strongly opposed to any unilineal models of social evolution. Second,
we make the bold proposition that not even multilineal models offer a vi-
1
At least up to the nuclear age.
59
able solution. Indeed, the multilineal approach implies that instead of a sin-
gle one hundred percent strong correlation between all the main parameters
of social evolution, there are a few such strong correlations valid for differ-
ent groups of societies, whereas the real problem is that there are no such
strong correlations at all (and even 90% strong correlation makes it neces-
sary to substitute the notion of the "line" with the notion of the "field").
Hence, we would prefer to deal not with the lines of evolution but
rather with the notion of a continuous evolutionary field. Above, we as-
serted that there are an infinite number of possible evolutionary trajectories.
But does this mean that it is impossible to find any regularities at all in so-
cial evolution? Our answer is resoundingly, "NO." The evolutionary field is
structured in a speicific way. It is suggested that within this continuous
field not all the abstractly possible directions of evolution are equally or ac-
tually probable. Certain directions appear less probable than others, some
variants of social evolution occur less frequently than others, though they
may still play an occassional and important role in the overall evolutionary
process.
Of course, it is objectively difficult for human beings (especially
those lacking expertise in mathematics) to deal practically with any multi-
dimentional spaces. Hence, we suggest that we begin by first considering
the two dimensional sections of those probability fields. It is also extremely
difficult to measure the probability of specific social processes. Yet the
way out from this impass is more or less clear. The probability of certain
states in applied sciences is normally estimated through the values of re-
spective frequencies. The practical conclusion from all those considerations
is that we could treat the normal cross-tabulations of socio-evolutionary
variables as rough estimates of the structures of 2-dimensional sections of
the multidimensional evolutionary probability field.
It is necessary to stress that the standard methods of quantitative
cross-cultural research are too frequently reduced to a sort of "correlation
hunting" (see e.g. Levinson & Malone 1981; Ember & Levinson 1991;
Peregrine & Gray 1993 &c). As a result, scholars tend to miss many impor-
tant information resources potentially contained in the cross-cultural data
bases. To find a correlation between two variables is frequently tantamount
to the extraction of a very small proportion of all the potential information.
We believe that the cross-tabulation itself may be of considerable interest

60
because it could sometimes represent an approximation of the structure of
the evolutionary probability field. We will illustrate this point by examin-
ing the inter-relation between community complexity and the complexity of
supracommunal structures.
At present, the only quantitative cross-cultural attempt to study this
subject was undertaken by Harumi Befu (1966). His hypothesis was that
with growing complexity of the supracommunal structures, community
complexity would also grow. However, Befu only found ambiguous sup-
port for this hypothesis: though the direction of the correlation of the num-
ber of supra-community jurisdictional levels with the number of infra-
community political offices turned out to be in the predicted direction, the
correlation itself was statistically insignificant (0.20 < p < 0.30). Yet, he
found a significant correlation between the number of supracommunal ju-
risdictional levels and the number of jurisdictional levels within the com-
munity (Phi = 0.24; X2 = 21.08; p < 0.001). As we shall see below such a
correlation does exist. But the actual interrelation between the two vari-
ables has turned out to be much more complicated and interesting.
For his second test, Befu used a part of Murdock’s Ethnographic At-
las DB as his database (this was published at the time he undertook his re-
search). This database can in no way be considered a representative sample.
We have tried to replicate Befu’s findings using the largest available, more
or less, representative databases available at the present – the one for Mur-
dock & White’s Standard Cross-Cultural Sample [Murdock & White 1969;
Murdock & Wilson 1972; Barry & Schlegel 1980; Murdock & Wilson
1985; MAPTAB 1997] and the one for Murdock’s Atlas of World Cultures
sample (Murdock 1967; 1981; Murdock et al. 1986; 1990). Formally,
Befu’s main finding was replicated – the correlation of the number of su-
pracommunal jurisdictional levels with the number of jurisdictional levels
within the community both for the Standard Cross-Cultural Sample and the
Atlas of World Cultures is in the predicted direction. For the Standard
Cross-Cultural Sample, it is statistically insignificant (Pearson’s r = 0.085,
p = 0.248; Spearman’s rho = 0.121, p = 0.099); yet for a much larger Atlas
of World Cultures sample it is significant beyond a doubt (Spearman’s rho
= 0.172, p < 0.001; Pearson’s r = 0.124, p = 0.004). However, a closer in-
spection of the available data revealed that the real relation between the two
variables under consideration is much more complex (and much more in-

61
teresting) than Befu stated. To start with, the main mistake made by Befu is
that he dichotomized both variables as he was sure that there was a lineal
relation between them. Yet, as stated, the relation between them has turned
out to be much more complex.
The cross-tabulation for the Standard Cross-Cultural Sample DB
looks as follows (see table 1):

It can easily be seen that, in fact, the positive correlation between these two
variables is really observed only in two zones of the cross-tabulation,
whereas in the two other zones the correlation is negative (see Table 2).

62
It does not appear difficult to interpret this qualitatively. The first
zone of positive correlation (ZONE 1+) can easily be interpreted within
Carneiro’s model (1970; 1981; 1987). Indeed, as Carneiro shows the earli-
est sovereign supracommunal levels of political integration are normally
formed as a result of the conquest by one community of a few others; yet,
one would expect that in order for a community to conquer another com-
munity it must be sufficiently complex. Hence, the observation that at the
earliest stages of political evolution the growth of the supracommunal
structures goes hand in hand with the growth of the communal complexity
does not appear surprising. On the other hand, after the supracommunal
structures reach a certain level of complexity, they frequently start taking
from the communities many of their important functions. For example, the
developed state normally monopolizes functions such as those relaed to
military, or diplomatic (foreign policy) concerns; as a result the respective
63
subsystems within the community structure will normally disappear. It fol-
lows from these processes that community complexity start to decrease
(ZONE 2–).1
ZONE 2+ of positive correlations does not appear to be fortuitous ei-
ther. It seems to correspond to certain alternatives for the evolution of
complex societies such as when communities turn out to be so strong that
they are able to resist the pressure of the developed state and to retain most
of their functions (like it happened in most of Medieval India [e.g. Alaev
1981]), or when the state delegates some of its functions to the communi-
ties and the complexity of the state grows hand in hand with the community
complexity (as happened in Russia in the 15th – 18th centuries). Actually,
Befu had this explanation in mind when he proposed his hypothesis. Thus
there seem to be certain grounds to expect that Befu was not entirely
wrong, yet what he suggested as a mainstream evolutionary regularity,
turns out to be an evolutionary alternative for complex societies. Thus,
where Befu expected to find a simple lineal regularity, we find a much
more complex nonunilineal process that implies certain evolutionary alter-
natives.
Yet, there is still more to examine. It finally appears reasonable to
separately study the upper part of the border zone between the left-hand
and right-hand tables where one detects one more zone of negative correla-
tion (ZONE 1–). This zone (together with ZONE 2+) seems to correspond
to evolutionary alternatives for the development of the rigid supra-
communal political structures (chiefdom – complex chiefdom – state) con-
stituted by the development of internal communal structures together with
the ‘soft’ supra-communal systems which do not alienate the communal
sovereignty (e.g., various confederations, amphictyonies, etc.). One of the
most impressive results of the socio-political development in this evolu-

1
Incidentally, it does not appear difficult to explain why the initial analysis of the data
both by Befu and Korotayev detected a significant positive correlation. The explana-
tion is simply that, as is well known, Murdock’s data bases strongly underrepresent
complex societies. Due to the fact that in all these samples the number of simpler so-
cieties far exceeds the number of complex ones, the positive correlation characteristic
for the simpler societies overshadowes the negative correlation typical for the more
complex ones. Only in the most representative Standard Cross Cultural Sample the
influence of the negative correlation turned out to be sufficiently strong to neutralize
partly the significant positive one, producing at the end an overall insignificant posi-
tive correlation.
64
tionary direction is the Greek polis some of which reached overall levels of
complexity comparable with those of chiefdoms and of the state, and, as we
know, made an extremely important impact on the whole course of World
history (see Korotayev 1995a and Chapter 17 of this volume by M. Berent).
Within Table 1 only the correlation of ZONE 1+ is statistically sig-
nificant. However, if we try to replicate our results using a larger database,
Murdock's Atlas of World Cultures (actually, the largest available relevant
representative database), we obtain a surprisingly similar correlation distri-
bution (see table 3).

It is not difficult to see that the correlation distribution in this case is


identical with the previous one. If anything, the detected pattern has be-
come just more pronounced. Statistically significant correlation is observed
now not only in ZONE 1+, but also in ZONE 2–. The correlation in
ZONE 2+ is now close to statistical significance. The correlation in
ZONE 1– is still far from statistical significance which seems to be ex-
plained simply by the fact that supercomplex sovereign communities (e.g.
the Greek poleis, the Roman civitas, supercomplex sovereign civil commu-

65
nities of Early Medieval Dalmatia, Medieval Switzerland, or Early Modern
Daghestan) are not represented at all in any anthropological databases.
Thus, it is rather surprising that both cross-tabulation still point to the re-
spective alternative of social evolution.
Of course, the results of the analysis above could be presented in the
following form (see diagram 1):

However, even this graph presents an oversimplified picture. The model


is still multilineal, rather than nonlineal. Indeed, the analyzed data do not
exclude the possibility of a considerable number of other evolutionary
trajectories, e.g. those presented at diagram 2.
66
Actually, the data does not exclude the possibility of the evolutionary
movement from any point of the respective field to any other point of it.
Hence, in order to show all the possible evolutionary trajectories we would
have to use something like the following diagram (see diagram 3).

67
It is quite clear that such a representation is not particularly useful. In
order to take into consideration both all the possible evolutionary trajecto-
ries and their respective alternatives and in order to estimate a possible
structure of the evolutionary field itself, it appears reasonable to use the
cross-tabulation, interpreting it as an estimation of the structure of the evo-
lutionary field. More frequent value combinations within one class of cases
would correspond to more probable social states.
Let us take the cross-tabulation above and present it in the following
way (Diagrams 4/1–4/3).

68
69
The figures in the diagrams represent the percentages of societies with a
given level of communal complexity which is within a given level of su-
pracommunal complexity. For example, figure 54 on the top of the central
bar in row 3 means that 54% of all the societies with 3 levels of supracom-
munal political integration had complex communities, whereas the
neighbouring figure (41) suggests that with the transition from 3-level to 4-
level supracommunal structures the preservation of the complex commu-
nity becomes less likely, while the probability of the development of both
simple and supracomplex communities grows (as suggested by the height
of the neighbouring bars). In general, the greater the relative height of the
bar within a row, the higher the probability for the development of the re-
spective type of communal organization within the societies with the corre-
sponding number of supracommunal levels. With the addition of one more
level of supracommunal integration the probability of various versions of
the communal structures transformations is also suggested by the relative
height of the bars. The diagram quite clearly describes the alternatives
which we discussed above – the development of communal structures are
likely to precede the development of supracommunal ones. Up to the ap-
pearance of the second supracommunal level the development of infra-
communal structures go hand in hand with the development of complex
communities. However, starting with the appearence of the second supra-
communal level, the percentage of complex communities starts to decrease,
whereas the probability of the development of both simple and supercom-
plex communities constantly grows. Hence, we believe that Diagram 4 can
be regarded as a rough estimation of the possible structure of the respective
evolutionary probability field, and this represents a non-lineal model of so-
cial evolution. In order to obtain more precise estimations of the evolution-
ary probability field structure it is necessary to augment the existing an-
thropological ethnographic databases with anthropological data from his-
torical sources.

V. Conclusion
The line is a undimensional concept. Hence, it appears possible to
speak about a line/trajectory of evolution (or a line of development) of a
single society. However, we can only speak about the "line of evolution
common for all societies", if two conditions are met:

70
1) That we apply a single criteriuon or study one, and only one,
unidimensional parameter of social evolution. This condition does not ap-
pear to be reasonable, but it is sometimes done. However, this is not the
only form of the unilineal evolutionism, and even not the main one, as at
present nobody seems to insist seriously on the application of a single evo-
lutionary criterium. That is why the second condition which could justify
the unilineal evolutionary approach appears to be more relevant.
2) If there were a perfect 100% correlation (i.e. functional depend-
ence in the mathematical sense of this term) between ALL the main unidi-
mensional parameters of evolution. However, if there were a functional de-
pendence between all the parameters of social evolution with only one ex-
ception, even in this case the unilineal scheme would already become in-
adequate. Even in this case, it becomes necessary to speak about a surface
rather than a line. If we had two such exceptions, we would have to speak
about a 3-dimensional evolutionary space; in case of 3 exceptions - about a
4-dimensional space, etc. In reality, the actual situation is much more dra-
matic – nobody has ever found a single pair of evolutionary parameters
having a perfect, 100% (=1.0) correlation for a considerable sample of cul-
tures. At least within 100 years of the search for such correlations nobody
has found any single couple of socioevolutionary variables with 100% cor-
relation (i.e. functional dependence). Already this seems to be sufficient to
maintain that the only adequate models of the general (as opposed to con-
crete) social evolution appear to be multidimentional non-lineal ones, that
we should speak not about a line, or surface, or 3-dimintional space, but
about a multidimentional probability space (=field) of social evolution.
It seems important to stress that the multilineal models of social evo-
lution do not appear to be significantly more adequate than the unilineal
ones. Indeed, they just postulate the existance of a few functional depend-
ences (=100% correlations) between the respective variables instead of one,
whereas the point is that there are no such 100% correlations between any
evolutionary variables at all. We would prefer to deal not with the lines of
the evolution but rather with the notion of the continuous evolution field. It
is suggested that within this continuous field we are observing that not all
the abstractly possible directions of evolution are actually probable,
whereas certain directions appear less probable than the other, some vari-
ants of the social evolution occuring less frequently than the other, though

71
still playing sometimes an important role in the overall evolutionary proc-
ess. To our minds, this more adequate understanding of social evolution
could be achieved through the transition to non-lineal evolutionary models.

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3

PROCESS VS. STAGES:


A FALSE DICHOTOMY IN TRACING
THE RISE OF THE STATE

Robert L. Carneiro

During the last few decades, the rise of chiefdoms and states has be-
come a major focus of anthropology. Given this interest, the questions
naturally arise: How did these more complex polities come into being, and,
how is their degree of evolution to be gauged? While almost everyone
agrees that from the Neolithic on, sweeping transformations have occurred
in the structure of human societies, and that attempts should be made to re-
construct these changes, far less agreement exists as to how this should be
done.
One aspect of the debate revolves around the relative emphasis to be
given to two major elements of evolution: stages and process. The use of
stages in portraying the course of socio-cultural development was a promi-
nent feature of classical evolutionism. Lewis H. Morgan, for example, in
his famous work Ancient Society (1877) , used as the framework of his evo-
lutionary reconstructions the stages of Savagery, Barbarism, and Civiliza-
tion, which he in turn divided into sub-stages.
To a large extent, however, modern-day anthropologists have felt
uncomfortable with evolutionary stages, and have largely turned their
backs on them, regarding them as old fashioned and of little value. Those
who have opposed the use of stages often proclaim their adherence instead
to the concept of process. Eleanor Leacock, for example, once wrote that
"it is the emphasis on process rather than on stages that is the main 20th
century amendment to most 19th century evolutionism" (1957:3) And this

83
view has been echoed and reechoed in the decades since she penned those
lines.
Thus, nearly twenty years later, Alexander Alland remarked that "It
should be clear that the major shift in evolutionary thinking … has been to
turn away from stages of development to a more dynamic view of proc-
ess..." (1975:65) The well-known archeologist Robert MaC. Adams, mak-
ing light of "the earlier use of stages as little more than typological con-
structs, " went on to say that "greater emphasis is being given to the critical
processes of transformation that have led from one general level of organ-
izational complexity in human society to another" (1968:1190)
And speaking specifically of political evolution, Conrad Kottak noted:

"A major problem in studying the process of state formation is precisely the typo-
logical approach… I argue that a more processual, realistic, and useful comparative
and evolutionary view of sociopolitical organization places empirical societies
along a continuum rather than in generalized categories" (1977:137).

From these passages, two opinions clearly stand out: (1) that anthropolo-
gists today should have little or no truck with the notion of stages, and (2)
that the study of process, independent of stages, is what they should focus
on if the development of complex societies is to be accounted for. In this
paper I propose to dispute both of these assertions.
First of all, let me try to dispel some of the misconceptions that sur-
round the concept of stages. To begin with, there is nothing metaphysical
or intangible about stages. They are merely successive, significant, distinc-
tive, and contrasting structural forms manifested by an ongoing process.
Speaking specifically of political evolution, we can say that stages are way-
stations on the road societies have traveled in moving from simple autono-
mous villages to complex states and empires. Kottak referred to political
evolution as a continuum, and indeed it is. Rightly regarded, process is a
continuum, that is to say, a gradual, interconnected, and uninterrupted se-
ries of changes. But if we accept the plain fact that opposite ends of a con-
tinuum are bound to be different, how are we to distinguish them from each
other? May we not recognize and label the changing forms which this con-
tinuum has assumed over time? And what are the different forms of an un-
folding process if not stages?

84
As a society evolves, it develops a constellation of discernable struc-
tural features that distinguish it from what it was before. "Stages" are the
names we give to such constellations. In calling them stages we highlight
the fact that change has taken place in the process we are studying. Thus,
stages and process are in no way incompatible. Indeed, they complement
and mutually illuminate each other. By calling attention to the observable
contrasts in the successive forms of a process, dividing it into stages under-
score the ways in which the process has operated. We can say that stages
give shape and inject substance into process.
A century ago, Franz Boas remarked that "customs and beliefs them-
selves are not the ultimate objects of research.... The object of our investi-
gations is to find the processes by which certain stages of culture have de-
veloped" (1896:905) Fair enough. However, Boas could just as easily have
reversed the equation and remarked that the object of our investigations is
to find the stages through which process has gone.
Still, it is one thing to proclaim that a fruitful interpenetration exists
between process and stages, and quite another to demonstrate it. In the rest
of this paper, I propose to do just that.

***

For much of the 20th century, the study of political evolution was
largely neglected, a casualty of the anti-evolutionism which for so many
decades gripped anthropology. Nor was this neglect due to a lack of suffi-
cient data, as is sometimes alleged. Instead, it was for want of the applica-
tion of an evolutionary point of view. In their study of the native polities of
colonial Africa, for example, British social anthropologists produced many
fine-grained monographs dealing with societies that ran the gamut of po-
litical structure from simple nomadic bands to full-blown states. But the
narrow functionalist-not to say anti-evolutionist-perspective of these schol-
ars kept them from seeing that, in a general way, these societies represented
an evolutionary series. The data were crying out to be arranged develop-
mentally, but the cry went largely unheeded.
American anthropologists, for their part, were likewise negligent of
evolutionary reconstructions, but in a rather different way. Consider, for
example, the way archeologists dealt with the prehistory of the eastern

85
United States. What concepts and ideas did they apply to the materials their
spades were uncovering? For decades, what passed for an organizing prin-
ciple in the arrangement of these excavated cultures was something called
the McKern system of classification. By means of this device, archeologi-
cal sites and the cultures responsible for them were assigned to various
categories such as component, phase, focus, and aspect. Whatever its vir-
tues in suggesting degrees of formal (non-temporal) relationship among
sites, the system was nevertheless a static and sterile one, completely ignor-
ing the dynamics of cultural change.
To be sure, the archeology of the eastern United States, especially
the Southeast, was not altogether devoid of categories identifying succes-
sive cultures through time. Thus archeologists recognized such temporal
divisions as Paleo-Indian, Archaic, Woodland, and Mississippian. But these
were generally regarded as periods-successive blocks of time-rather than
stages, successive blocks of form. While these periods, as they followed
one another, implied some increase in complexity, they failed to identify
the general socio-political changes undergone by the cultures they labeled.
A rough distinction was also made in the Southeast between a Burial
Mound period and a Temple Mound period, the latter being recognized as
representing a more advanced form of culture. But again, while the archi-
tectural differences between the two were thus emphasized, no clear idea
was conveyed by these names of the socio-political organization of the cul-
tures involved. And certainly no mechanism was proposed or suggested to
account for the marked development of culture that occurred from one pe-
riod to the next. In fact, American archeologists, while recognizing in a
general way that an important transition from one level of culture to an-
other had taken place, were reluctant to label it "evolution, " such was the
fear the very term engendered in their hearts. (See, for example, Willey and
Phillips 1958:70)
But things were destined to change. Into this state of affairs stepped
the ethnologist Kalervo Oberg who in 1955 proposed a typology of cultural
forms which focused on contrasting political structures. While Oberg pro-
posed this typology specifically for lowland South and Central America, it
was clearly applicable to cultures in other parts of the world as well. The
typology was as follows:

86
1. Homogeneous tribes
2. Segmented tribes
3. Politically organized chiefdoms
4. Feudal type states
5. City states
6. Theocratic empires
It is important to note that Oberg proposed these as types and not
stages. At the time he was writing, anti-evolutionism was still so firmly in
the saddle that proposing a sequence of evolutionary stages might be ex-
pected to draw heavy fire.
It fell to Elman Service to see clearly that what Oberg presented as
structural types were, at the same time, evolutionary stages. Of Oberg's six
types, Service's eye was caught particularly by that of chiefdom, a socio-
political form which, before Oberg, if it was recognized at all, had no es-
tablished name. As Oberg defined it, the category of "chiefdom" referred to
a form of polity lying between autonomous villages and states. As such, it
called attention to a very significant form of society which covered a broad
span of political development. Specifically, it supplied a necessary term in
the progression from small, autonomous villages to complex states.
In his Influential little book Primitive Social Organization (1962),
Service boldly proposed an evolutionary sequence of socio-political forms
which consisted of Band, Tribe, Chiefdom, and State. And of these four
forms, the chiefdom was by far the most intriguing.
Among American archeologists, Service's sequence of stages was
first seized upon and applied by William Sanders and Barbara Price, be-
coming the framework on which they projected the cultural developments
of prehistoric Mesoamerica. In their groundbreaking volume, Meso-
america: The Evolution of a Civilization (1969), Sanders and Price used the
sequence of Band, Tribe, Chiefdom, and State to highlight the developmen-
tal stages through which their area had passed. And their work left the clear
implication that this sequence could be used elsewhere to make the por-
trayal of American prehistory more intelligible.
A few years later, there appeared Colin Renfrew's Before Civilization
(1973), a book which, drawing heavily on Service's evolutionary scheme,
applied the category of chiefdom to Neolithic and Bronze Age cultures in
various parts of Europe. It is not an overstatement to say that this small

87
book gave an impetus to the understanding of European prehistoric devel-
opment that it had lacked before.

***

Given the importance that the concept of chiefdom has assumed in the
reconstructions of prehistoric archeology, it is worth looking back at
Oberg's original characterization of it:

"Tribal units belonging to this type are


multivillage chiefdoms governed by a paramount chief under whose control are dis-
tricts and villages governed by a hierarchy of subordinate chiefs. The distinguishing
feature of this type of political organization is that the chiefs have judicial powers to
settle disputes and to punish offenders even by death and, under the leadership of the
paramount chief, to requisition men and supplies for war purposes" (1955 484).

Looking closely at this type-or stage-we see immediately how it can con-
tribute to our understanding of political development. First of all, note that
Oberg specifies that chiefdoms are multivillage aggregates. That being the
case, it follows that in order to account for their emergence we must find
the mechanism by which the previous stage of village autonomy was tran-
scended.
Oberg's definition of the chiefdom as a multivillage unit, inciden-
tally, carries with it certain implications. For one thing, it requires us to ex-
clude from the roster of chiefdoms such societies as those on the Northwest
Coast of North America, which anthropologists habitually call chiefdoms.
Although all Kwakiutl village chiefs were individually ranked in relation to
one another, for example, this ranking reflected only their respective cere-
monial statuses. No one chief, not even that of the highest-ranking village,
could give orders to the residents of any other village than his own. For all
their cultural elaboration, then, the tribes of the Northwest Coast never at-
tained the level of chiefdoms.
Oberg's description of chiefdoms portrays them as frequently in-
volved in warfare. This immediately suggests the means by which village
autonomy was surmounted, namely, military action. Autonomous political
units never willingly relinquish their sovereignty, but must be coerced into
doing so. Whether this coercion is through outright conquest or merely

88
through the threat of it, the fact remains that warfare, in one way or an-
other, lies at the root of the chiefdom.
We can see, then, that the mere existence of the type or stage of
chiefdom, with a few of its major characteristics spelled out, already goes a
long way toward laying bare the forces that led to its emergence. Moreover,
by going further and identifying sub-stages of the chiefdom it is possible to
reveal even more details of its continuing development.
Clearly, the concept of chiefdom covers a lot of ground. It begins
with the earliest aggregation of a few villages into a larger political unit,
and ends with a polity so large and complex as to deserve being called a
state. Accordingly, not long after anthropologists first embraced the con-
cept of chiefdom, they began to see the value-almost the necessity-of dis-
tinguishing substages of it.
The first attempt to divide the chiefdom into sub-stages occurred, to
the best of my knowledge, in 1978 when Vincas Steponaitis (1978:420)
and Sarunas Milisauskas (1978:165), working in the Southeastern United
States and in central Europe respectively, distinguished between what they
called simple and complex chiefdoms. Three years later, I proposed a three-
stage sequence of chiefdoms, consisting of minimal, typical, and maximal
(Carneiro 1981:47) This typology was based on nothing more than the
number of villages included in a chiefdom, a minimal chiefdom encom-
passing around a dozen or so, a typical one around 50, and a maximal one
in the neighborhood of 100. Though on the face of it this typology was a
purely quantitative one, being based simply on the number of villages
comprehended within a chiefdom, it was also meant to represent an evolu-
tionary sequence, the assumption being that as chiefdoms became larger,
they also became more complex.
Useful as these typologies may be, they nonetheless leave room for
further elaboration. While they do contrast certain differences among
chiefdoms, they fail to specify them in sufficient detail. Indeed, they sug-
gest little or nothing as to just how chiefdoms evolved from their initial
simple form to more advanced ones. After years of failing to notice these
shortcomings, however, something finally led me to realize that in studying
the evolution of the chiefdom an expanded sequence of stages would prove
more illuminating.

89
This realization came to me while reading Charles Hudson's descrip-
tion of the chiefdoms distributed over much of the Southeastern United
States during the 16 th-century. In discussing these chiefdoms, Hudson
proposed an evolutionary typology which distinguished two forms of them:
simple and paramount (1988:600-601). Now, these two stages were not far
different from those proposed by Steponaitis ten years earlier when he di-
vided Southeastern chiefdoms into simple and complex. But Hudson' s ty-
pology, based as .it was on a study of actual ethnohistorically known chief-
doms, and not simply on archeological remains, made me see something I
had previously missed.
In proposing the sequence of minimal, typical, and maximal chief-
doms, I had done nothing more than label successive forms of chiefdoms
which differed only in the number of villages they contained. Nothing was
said about the structural changes involved in moving from one size of
chiefdom to another. Thus I had failed to grasp, or at least to express, the
obvious fact that successively larger chiefdoms are not formed simply by
incorporating more and more villages as such. Rather, this advance in the
form of the chiefdom normally involved incorporating villages, as already
forming part of an existing chiefdom.
To repeat, the first step in the formation of chiefdoms was for several
previously-autonomous villages to be welded into a larger, multi-village
unit. However, the second step-the one marking the transition from Hud-
son's simple to his paramount chiefdom-was the reaggregation of what had
formerly been simple chiefdoms into a larger one. The wholes at a lower
level of organization thus became parts at a higher one.
The process at work here struck me as being quite analogous to what
occurs in the building up of chemical aggregates: atoms are first united into
molecules, and molecules are then united into compounds. It was this se-
quence of events in chemical "evolution" that suggested a more appropriate
term for the corresponding process in the socio-political realm. While I re-
tained the term simple to label the earliest and most elementary form of the
chiefdom, I decided to call the second stage, not "complex," a term which
lacked specificity, or "paramount," which referred more properly to the
principal chief himself, but compound. This term strikes me as more de-
scriptive than the others since it pinpoints the process by which chiefdoms

90
evolve, namely, by building themselves up structurally by the incorporation
of the next smaller set of units, that is, by compounding.
The evolutionary typology of simple and compound draws attention
to the way in which larger chiefdoms arise, namely, by defeating and in-
corporating smaller and weaker ones. It also suggests the elaboration in po-
litical structure that must accompany such incorporations if the growing
number of administrative units in the newly enlarged chiefdom is to be
successfully accommodated and integrated.
How this process operated is clearly revealed by the 16th century
ethnohistorical sources for the Southeast. The Spanish chroniclers' accounts
make it clear that most of the chiefdoms in this region were not simple but
compound. They had advanced beyond the level of simple chiefdoms by
managing to subjugate and incorporate the smaller simple chiefdoms
around them.
Here the plot thickens, however. The compounding process just de-
scribed did not always result in the full, permanent, and secure incorpora-
tion of lesser chiefdoms into greater ones. And this was true even though a
certain minimum of subordination by a conquered chiefdom to the con-
quering one went along with its subjugation. As a result of its defeat, an ex-
chiefdom generally incurred the obligation of paying an annual tribute to
the paramount chief under whose sway it had now fallen. Furthermore,
vanquished chiefdoms were often required to send warriors to the para-
mount chief whenever the latter proposed to embark on a military cam-
paign. Other than that, however, defeated chiefdoms were often left pretty
much on their own.
The structural weakness inherent in such a compound chiefdom
should be readily apparent. It was often the case that the constituent units
of such a chiefdom-former chiefdoms themselves-continued to be headed
by the same chief who had ruled them before their defeat and subjugation.
These former paramount chiefs, however, finding themselves subordinate
to a greater chief, were likely to harbor resentment toward him. And if not
downright rebellious, they tended to be at least restive, awaiting the chance
to throw off the yoke of their new master.
Nor is this a mere supposition on my part. The instability of com-
pound chiefdoms is well attested to, for example, by Coosa, a chiefdom
centered in northern Georgia, and one of the largest ones encountered by

91
the Spaniards. When in 1560 Tristan de Luna and his men arrived in the
capital town of the Coosa, they were informed that Napochies, one of
Coosa's subordinate political units, had refused to pay its annual tribute, a
failure that constituted an act of rebellion. Accordingly, the paramount
chief of Coosa was about to do what paramount chiefs generally did in such
instances, namely, send out a punitive expedition to bring the dissidents
back into line (Hudson 1990:102)
The Coosa, then, had not solved the structural problem that so often
besets compound chiefdoms, that is, how to keep its component sub-units
loyal and under control. However, another large chiefdom of the Eastern
United States, the 17th century Powhatan of what is now Virginia, evidently
had. At the very least, it had taken a significant step in that direction. The
means Powhatan had hit upon for maintaining itself more fully integrated
was both simple and obvious. The paramount chief, who was himself
named Powhatan, had systematically removed from office the original po-
litical leaders of several conquered chiefdoms and replaced them with his
own appointees. These new subordinate sub-chiefs were usually
Powhatan's brothers, half-brothers, and sons, men more likely to remain
loyal to him than those they were replacing (See Rowntree 1989:117-118,
142).
Clearly, an important structural advance had been made here. In fact,
it is probably fair to say that this step represented a distinctly new stage in
the evolutionary process by which chiefdoms were moving in the direction
of becoming states. And since a distinct stage deserves a name of its own, I
proposed calling a polity that had reached such a stage a consolidated
chiefdom (Carneiro 1992:37).
Our three-fold evolutionary typology of chiefdoms is now complete,
and consists of the following stages: (1) simple, (2) compound, and
(3) consolidated.
This series of stages, along with their designations, serve to focus at-
tention on the major processes that autonomous villages underwent in the
great transformation that set them on the road to becoming states. One of
these processes was conquest warfare, the mechanism by which the inde-
pendence of autonomous villages was overcome and multi-village chief-
doms first established. This same mechanism continued to operate as po-
litical evolution proceeded further, remaining the instrument by which sim-

92
ple chiefdoms developed into compound ones. Moreover, the sequence of
stages thus designated draws further attention to the structural changes that
had to come into play if growing chiefdoms were to successfully counteract
the divisive tendencies that threatened to break them down into their con-
stituent units.
It should not be hard to see, therefore, that a study of the emergence
of chiefdoms, and their subsequent evolution, benefits greatly from being
depicted by stages which point to the successive structural phases that the
process undergoes. Once again, then, we see exemplified the truth that
process and stages are not contradictory or inimical to understanding, but
rather, that they are inextricably linked and mutually illuminating.
In conclusion, I have tried to show that stages are not static, formal,
lifeless things, devoid of relevance for a dynamic modern-day interpreta-
tion of cultural evolution. On the contrary, stages are valid and useful cate-
gories. They designate succeeding and distinguishable manifestations of an
ongoing process. They thus supply us with useful tools to further our un-
derstanding, both in general terms and in specific detail, of that great sweep
of socio-political advance which saw human societies so thoroughly trans-
formed.

REFERENCES CITED
Adams, R. McC. 1968. Archeological Research Strategies: Past and Present. Science 160:
1187-92.
Alland, A. 1975 Adaptation. Annual Review of Anthropology. Ed. by B.J.Siegel. Vol. 4, pp.
59-73.
Boas, F. 1896 The Limitations of the Comparative Method of Anthropology. Science 4:
901-8.
Carneiro, R.L. 1981. The Chiefdom: Precursor of the State. The Transition to Statehood in
the New World. Ed. by G.D.Jones and R.R.Kautz. Cambridge: 37-79.
Carneiro, R.L. 1992 The Calusa and the Powhatan, Native Chiefdoms of North America.
Reviews in Anthropology 21: 27-38.
Hudson, Ch. 1988. A Spanish-Coosa Alliance in Sixteenth-Century North Georgia. The
Georgia Historical Quarterly 72: 599-626.
Hudson, Ch. 1990. The Juan Pardo Expedition. Washington, D. C.: Smithsonian Institu-
tion Press.
Kottak, C.P. 1977. The Process of State Formation in Madagascar. American Ethnologist
4: 136-55.

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Leacock, E. 1957. Status among the Montagnais-Naskapi of Labrador. Paper presented at
the 56th annual meeting of the American Anthropological Association. Mimeo-
graphed.
Milisauskas, S. 1978 European Prehistory. New York: Academic Press.
Oberg, K. 1955 Types of Social Structure Among the Lowland Tribes of South and Cen-
tral America. American Anthropologist 57: 472-87.
Renfrew, C. 1973. Before Civilization: the radiocarbon revolution and prehistoric Europe.
London: Jonathan Cape.
Rowntree, H.C. 1989 The Powhatan Indians of Virginia. Norman: University of Okla-
homa Press.
Sanders, W.T., and Price, B.J. 1968 Mesoamerica: The Evolution of a Civilization. New
York: Random House.
Service, E.R. 1962 Primitive Social Organization, An Evolutionary Perspective. New
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Steponaitis, V.P. 1978 Location Theory and Complex Chiefdoms: A Mississippian Exam-
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Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

94
4

THE CHANGE OF NON-CHANGE:


EVOLUTION OF HUMAN REGIMES AND THE
STRUCTURE OF WORLD HISTORY

Nikolai S. Rozov

From Periodizing to Structurizing World History:


Unfolding the Method
It is a common place, at least since R. Collingwood (1961), to reject
all attempts at dividing world history into periods because of their arbitrary,
ill-based criteria. At the same time only a very few scholars have deliber-
ately approached the task of creating non-voluntary, i.e. well based criteria
for developing a set of periods (Stearns 1987; Green 1992; 1995; Gouds-
blom 1989; Bentley 1996).
The problem has turned out to be a rather hard nut to crack because
of the non-linearity of history, the great diversity of social and cultural
forms, various speeds of processes, long periods of isolated development of
the major ecumene (AfroEurasia, pre-Columbian Americas, Australia, and
Oceania), and because of a lack common units of analysis, terms, and con-
cepts among competing macrohistorical paradigms (see Green 1995). The
result is that each new attempt at world-wide periodizing is immediately
rejected (or neglected, which is even worse) with no on-going process of
analysis and discussion.
The experience of intellectual history tells us that in such cases it
may not be useful to directly propose new answers (here, new versions of
periodization) but to unfold the very process of elaborating an answer. This
approach renders the main logical steps transparent so each of them can be
criticised, corrected and transformed.

95
Refletion on the problem of periodization leads to the need to
broaden the subject and thinking about the structure of human history, i.e.
including into consideration not only chronological divisions but the whole
realm of competing social-historical concepts, typologies, and classifica-
tions. A first attempt at this approach of structurizing world history consists
of the following steps:
(1) To formulate explicitly apriori requirements (normative principles)
for a structure of world history;
(2) To present an underlying social-historical ontology that should an-
swer such questions as: What is it that changes in history? What
general categories can be applied for the tremendous diversity of his-
torical forms in time and space? What is most essential for making
up taxons of historical periodizing and structurizing? etc. Each ap-
proach includes an implicit ontology and it would be better to make
it explicit;
(3) To construct an apriori conceptual framework of world historical
structure that should meet both apriori principles (1) and ontology
(2); to construct primary criteria for recognizing taxons of the struc-
ture;
(4) To make this conceptual construction compatiable with major exist-
ing macrohistorical paradigms by means of mutual adaptation of
core concepts;
(5) To transform the concepts of taxons and correspondent criteria (see
3) into methods of working with and interpreting historical evidence
(in the form of the traditional discourse of historiography, data
bases, etc.) directed to structurizing and periodizing world history; to
give primary simple examples of the application of the methods;
(6) To undertake preliminary research on the basis of 1-5; to formulate
correspondent versions of the structure of world-history, to reveal
difficulties and barriers that inevitably emerge when apriori struc-
tures, concepts and methods meet real historical evidence; to recon-
sider points 1-5 and elaborate plausible solutions;
Only if the results of 1-6 seem to be significant and promising (even
if wrong and insufficient in some or even crucial points) for the intellectual
community of historians, social scientists and philosophers, can one expect
further extensive discussion and intense research directed to the develop-

96
ment or rejection of, or competing with this approach.
In this paper some starting thoughts and conceptual solutions con-
cerning points 1-4 are presented.

The Principles for Structurising World History


By the structure of world-history I mean a framework of taxons of
various kinds (classes and types of societies, regions or other entities;
phases, stages, epochs, or other concepts for dealing with levels of devel-
opment in connection with chronology) that is used for dividing history
into parts, and relating these parts with each other. Periodization is just one
aspect of a world history structure, namely the temoral.
The apriori principles (requirements, logical and philosophical con-
straints) serve as a rational basis for further differentiation between struc-
tures which are ill-based, arbitrary, and logically implausible one hand, and
those which are well-based, cognitively legitimate and logically consistent
on the other.
There is no doubt that any basis for evaluation must itself be based
and evaluated; but this path is potentially infinite. That's why we will begin
with certain proposed requirements derived from what has been learned
from criticisms of previous attempts at constructing world history struc-
tures, and from the general principles of rational thinking concerning hu-
man history (see also Rozov 1997).
The Principle of Substantiality (versus superficial, accidental, and
voluntary divisions). The Structure of world history (further the Structure)
must be substantial in respect to the major traits, the main structural quali-
ties of various parts of historical reality, as well as to the most significant
patterns and dynamic causes of historical change.
The Principle of Temporal Compatibility (versus particularism of
historical epochs). The Structure must be uniform over time. It would not
be proper to divide earlier parts of history on the ground of one criterion
and later parts on another one. The actual taxons of the Structure may well
be different for earlier and later periods but they must be conceptually ho-
mogenous and compatible.
The Principle of Spatial Compatibility (versus particularism of cul-
tural and geographical regions). The Structure must be uniform in space. It
should combine clear universal divisions with real existing diversity and

97
variability of historical forms; evident differention of speed of historical
changes (i.e. between AfroEuroasia and Precolumbian America) should not
be neglected but at the same time should not undermine the wholeness and
integrity of the Structure and the Periodization as their key aspects.
The Principle of Paradigmal Compatibility (versus scholasticism and
conceptual narrowness). The Structure should be conceptually compatible
with key categories of the most productive and comprehensive of current
macro-historical paradigms. The Structure should become a common con-
ceptual and communication field for scholars from competing intellectual
camps. We will take into account the paradigms and approaches of the
Golden age of macrohistorical sociology and related fields menitioned
above.
The Principle of Flexible Traditionalism (versus both short-lived
radicalism and rigid dogmatism). The Structure should not differ radically
in major terms and divisions from the current academic tradition of study
and teaching of history until strong, solid, widely and well tested arguments
would make an innovation really necessary. The task is in the improvement
and restructuring of the conceptual framework for explaining and under-
standing history, not in the absolute rejection and substitution of previous
traditional structures. Any structures of history (including periodizations)
must not divide scholars but serve as useful cognitive tools for dealing with
data, logically based teaching, convenient academic communication and
further fruitful research.
This is a system of rather severe constraints which is full of inner
tensions. I am far from thinking that further constructions will fit well all
these requirements. But if the proposed attempt is wrong there appear more
chances that further attempts by other scholars will be more successful.

The Change of Non-Change:


The Dynamics of Human Regimes as a Basic Ontology
Starting this reflection with the Principle of Substantiality we come
to the crucial question of the philosophy of history and of social ontology:
what is substantial in human history?
Taking into account the further requirements of compatibility we can
be sure at least of the universality of Heraclitus's thesis: everything flows,
or all is fluent. The substance of history is change with something that

98
causes changes. But changes of what? Within this range of primary meta-
physical categories we have a rather narrow list of alternatives. To consider
a change of changes is not a the best approach because it leads to an end-
less regression. Let's take as a compromise a change of non-change, while
implying by non-change something that can be thought of as stability at
least in some sense and limits. To put it in other words: non-change is
something that conditionally, in some aspects and within some temporal,
spatial and conceptual boundaries can be taken as a more or less sustain-
able routine.
In modern macro-historical literature we can find a rather well de-
veloped concept of 'regimes' that Dutch historians Johan Goudsblom and
Fred Spier took from works of German sociologist Norbert Elias (1978)
and applied for structurizing human history and even Big history ("since
the Big Bang", see Spier 1996). Human regimes are understood here as a
general term for the whole human condition, experience, activities and in-
teraction that can be considered regular, routine and stable at least in some
limited respects.
F. Spier according to N. Elias and J. Goudsblom distiguishes eco-
logical, social, and personal regimes. I just rename ecological regimes to
techno-ecological in order to emphasize the role of technologies in human-
nature interaction and coevolution. I also add cultural (moral, religious,
ideological, aethsetic), regimes on the basis of ontological specifics of the
realm of cultural patterns (Kroeber 1952) as a parallel concept to 'the realm
of ends' by I.Kant, 'the realm of values' by H. Rickert, M. Scheler, etc., and
'the third world' by K. Popper.
Such widely known and used concepts as 'traditions,' 'social order,'
'political order,' 'legal order,' 'life style', 'folkways, ''functioning of institu-
tions,' 'mode of production,' 'mode of accumulation,' 'instrument of expan-
sion,' 'long-term strategy,' 'habitus,' etc. can be easely reconsidered and rep-
resented as parts or kinds of human regimes.
We find human regimes everywhere where we see any more or less
stable routine of repeating, regular behavior of individuals, groups and lar-
ger communities. More difficult is the question of how to recognize limits
of a given regime. There are at least three types of boundaries: temporal
(between old and new regimes), spatial (between regimes of neighboring
regions), and ontological (between techno-ecological, social, cultural, per-

99
sonal regimes, and their further divisions). This problem is indeed rather
significant and universal for history and social sciences, but still is far from
being solved. Only a general heuristics can be given here: to find in each
type of regime its core substantial traits (i.e. homeostatic variables and sup-
plying structures according to Stinchcombe 1968), to find phenomenal in-
dicators for these parameters, and to construct correspondent criteria for
recognizing and differenting regimes. Some concrete criteria of regime ef-
fectiveness will be given below.

Regime Effectiveness and Evolutionary Approach:


What is world history from the viewpont of human regimes?
Any regime is adequate only under certain conditions. Conditions in-
evitably change and this challenges old regimes, making them change in
turn, adapt or perish (possibly with the major part of population that carries
this regime). Because of various crises that evidently are inescapable in the
human condition, old regimes die and new regimes emerge.
Especially successful are regimes which are fortunate recombina-
tions of old regime traits that become dominant and expand at the cost of
old regimes that are marginalized, peripherized or transformed into re-
sources or internally assimilated parts of new victorious regimes. The last
in turn sooner or later become old and give way to new regimes. This is a
classical evolutionary model that was previously applied in social theoriz-
ing to entities less general than regimes (see the critical review of social
evolutionary thought in Sanderson 1992).
It is known in principle how these kinds of regimes are imbedded in
and constrain each other (Spier 1996). I would conceptualize the interaction
between regimes as follows.
Local environmental regimes (landscape, climate, soils, etc.) gener-
ate constraints to techno-ecological regimes (and thus make only certain
ones possible and efficient).
Techno-ecological regimes generate constraints to social regimes
(the best known example is Wittfogel's idea of irrigation as a source of cen-
tral state regimes, never mind that it was later rejected, see Carneiro 1970).
Social regimes are major sources of constraints to cultural regimes.
From this viewpoiint Jaspers's axial time and rise of world religions was a

100
normal effect of social constraints from the side of world-systems as widely
expanded entitites that everywhere needed and which, in axial centers -
China, India, Persia, Greece - attained cultural support of world-systemic
(usually imperial) regimes legitimacy (Jaspers 1949/1953).
Finally, all three kinds of regimes generate constraints to personal
regimes. Take the impact of rice cultivation (as one of the basic techno-
ecological regimes in Asia) on the emergence of Chinese, Korean and
Japanese labor ethics. In sociology and anthropology rather well-known are
the patterns of socialization and acculturation of individuals through fam-
ily, educational systems, social communities, various interactive rituals,
and mass-media.
Thus four kinds of regimes make up social evolution that consists of
strongly interconnected evolutions: techno-ecological evolution, societal
evolution (including political, economic, legal, and other institutional sub-
evolutions), cultural evolution, and anthropic (personal) evolution.
The primary hypothesis is that techno-ecological periodization en-
compasses social periodization. In order to distinguish the main taxons of
both kinds of evolution, let's distinguish techno-ecological stages (further
stages) from social phases (further phases). Cultural and anthropic evolu-
tions do not constitute specific periodizations but provide diversity of
forms (see below the concept of type-attractors) to stages and phases;
moreover as we will see later, core cultural patterns (civilizational sacred
objects) manage to collect, connect and shape, both in space and time, so-
cieties which belong to various stages and phases.
The field for expansion consists of human populations that are gen-
erally structured by social groups (families, settlements, ethnic groups, so-
cieties). Individuals within these groups accept or reject regimes (regime
traits and elements) according to: 1) their needs and values; and 2) ecologi-
cal, technological, social, and cultural constraints that are determined in
turn by choices made by previous generations and by currently influential
groups.
Competition between regimes rather commonly takes the form of so-
cial conflicts with wars and revolutions as the cruelest manifestations.
That's why in the larger part of world history, regime evolution is not a
matter of choice but a matter of survival. Winners usually expand their own
regimes by coercion (sometimes supported by propagation). This is an old

101
theme of social darwinism and conflict sociology of L. Gumplowicz,
G. Ratzenhofer, W. Sumner, A. Small (see Boulding 1962) that seems to be
experiencing a revival in recent conflict and geopolitical macrosociology
(Collins 1975; 1986; 1995), military-centered theories of states (Carneiro
1970; Tilly 1992; Mann 1987; 1993), and theory of social revolutions
based on intra-elite conflicts and external geopolitical constraints (Skocpol
1979). Probable moral criticism of the very concept of regime effectiveness
and conflict testing will be discussed later.

From Regimes to Societies


Human regimes seem to comprise the most general and convenient
tool for detailed analysis and for comparing fragments of historical reality.
At the same time the task of structurizing macrohistory requires a larger
unit.
In spite of well-known criticisms from the schools of civilizationism
and world-system analysis the concept of society remains of crucial impor-
tance for thinking of history and in fact is used implicitly even in these ap-
proaches.
Society can be defined as a complex of three major regime unities. A
human population living in a territory forms society if it is possible to re-
veal and prove the unity of political-legal regime over the territory (one
system of legitimate power, system of laws or their analogues), the unity of
the cultural regime (first of all an existance of a language or languages for
communication among members of the whole population), and the unity of
the economic exchange regime (existence of common measures of goods,
money or money analogues).
It is true that only nation-states fit well into all given criteria
(Wallerstein 1988; Tilly 1992). But it does not mean that before nation-
states no societies existed. When meeting with this or that deficiency of
unity a researcher can note that the given historical entity in certain aspects
is a society (i.e. common political power and exchange regime in the an-
cient world-empire) but in certain other aspects it is divided to smaller so-
cieties (i.e. autonomous provinces with their own languages and even legal
codes), or is integrated into a larger more encompassing society (current
unifying trends of political, economic, and cultural regimes in Western
Europe).

102
Thus society is a population with a more or less stable complex of
regimes that attains the triple unity within the territory it occupies.

Horizontal Criteria for Effectiveness of Societies


If direct encounters between societies are absent or their results are
unknown the following indicators of effectiveness of societies (and their
regimes) can be used:
a) the density of population means how efficiently the carring capacity
of land is exploited (the DP-criterion); it is a boundary between civi-
lizational centers and barabarian peripheries;
b) the size, level of organization and weaponry of armies affects how
effectively given resources are mobilized into a coercive force; the
correspondent military mobilization criterion (MM-criterion) reflects
the vangard factor in regime competition; it is a boundary between
geopolitical leaders and their potential victims (Carneiro 1970;
Parker 1988; Tilly 1992; Chirot 1994);
c) life standards of the majority of the population (LS-criterion); it is a
classical hierarhy core-semiperiphery-periphery of world-system
analysis (Wallerstein 1974-1980; Chase-Dunn and Hall 1997);
d) the additional Braudelian (1979) indicator can be used: the sign of a
core is the presence of well-defended and rich residence of commer-
cial and diplomatic representatives of this core in the most prestig-
ious centers and places of subdominant societies (the foreign resi-
dence criterion, or FR-criterion).
The horizontal criteria a-c can be transformed into vertical criteria
for comparing successive stages of the same society. For periodizing the
crucial question is how to distinguish permanent fluctuations of regime ef-
fectiveness (along with population density, military power, life standards)
from essential systemic transformations.

The ITA-Criterion
The boundary between higher and historical levels (stages or phases)
means that human regimes and corresponding traits appropriated by a soci-
ety in the higher level are systemically essential and commonly irreversi-
ble. The trait (and correspondent regime) is essential if societies that obtain
this trait dominate over societies without this trait over a broad range of

103
conditions and for the long-term. Let's call this complex conceptual con-
struction the irreversible trait appearance criterion (the ITA-criterion).
In any more or less isolated part of the globe there is a specific local
bunch of competing techno-ecological regimes distributed among coexist-
ing societies with various levels of technological development. The gener-
alized levels of such development which can be revealed in the effective-
ness criteria are called techno-technological stages (compare with
Rostow,1962; Galbraith 1967; Bell 1973; White 1975; et al.). There is no
doubt that over vast range of conditions and over the long-term, societies
with agrarian regimes and crafts dominate over hunters and gatherers; so-
cieties with industry dominate over societies without industry. This is the
simplest case of the application of the ITA-criterion.
Much more problematic is the problem of thesocial-historical typol-
ogy of societies. Here social phases (or simply phases) will serve an ana-
logue of techno-ecological stages. Societies that in long-term have parity
according to horizontal criteria a-d given above are considered as belong-
ing to the same phase. Transformation of society into a new phase is indi-
cated by the ITA-criterion.
Some cases of regression do not change the very pattern of irreversi-
bility because further development of this society or development of rival
societies necessarily will include these new social regimes as more effec-
tive ones. I.e. once accepting the regimes of state that provide new possi-
bilities for military mobilization, resource mobilization, intensification of
production, sustaining social order, etc. people never reject this achieve-
ment by their own will (Carneiro 1970). Even in a few historical cases of
regression to previous barbarian patterns (tribe-like or chiefdom-like) the
state’s neighbors, being more militarily effective, sooner or later swallow
this regressive territory, thus the pattern of irreversibility sustains. All this
means in particular that we can reveal a clear line between the phase of pre-
state societies and the phase of societies with states.
There is also some transition period specific for each society be-
tween old phase and new phase. For operating with the ITA-criterion the
main difficulty is that traces of social regimes are not so evident as residues
of technologies. This difficulty can be overcome by revealing indicative
features or 'diagnostical signs' in terms of I.M. Diakonoff (1994).
Unfortunately for theorists, real history cannot be installed in clear

104
stable boxes of this kind. Under normal conditions a society of a higher
stage and phase eventually dominates (subordinates, assimilates, margilizes
or even eliminates) any societies of lower stages and phases (the cases of
primary domination of classical civilizations over barbarians, or modern
European colonization). But when conditions change and societies appro-
priate new and more progressive weapons or tools, the effectiveness rela-
tion can be subverted even without radical regime and phase transforma-
tion.
The multiple cases of military victories of barbarian and nomadic
complex chiefdoms, proto-states and early states over large complex socie-
ties in late Antiquity and during the Middle Ages tells us that barbarians
and nomads can be stronger at least in military regimes (that necessarily
implies an essential advantage in mobilizing capacities, production of
weapons, adequate cultural and personal regimes). At the same time as
soon as any barbarian tribe, chiefdom or complex chiefdom appropriated a
state structure it became ceteris paribus clearly stronger than all neighbor
prestate barbarians (probably it was one of the main causes of the rapid
emergence of barbarian kingdoms in early medieval Western Europe).
Moreover it is well known that barbarian conquerors in most cases
accepted cultural regimes (Christianity or Conficianism), economic re-
gimes (modes of production) and political regimes (imperial state organiza-
tion) from defeated classical civilized societies. It means that these classical
ancient regimes not only survived but even further expanded as more at-
tractive and hence efficient in given conditions.
The overall conclusion is that the dimension of effectiveness ('the
height' of the vertical hierarchy of societies) does not always precisely co-
incide with the criterion of irreversibility ('the horizontal boundary' be-
tween phases in this hierarchy). Sometimes (mainly militarily and in the
short-term) societies from 'a lower' phase prevail over societies from a
'higher' phase. Nevertheless the further systemic consequences of this ab-
normal encounter result in the return of the overall Structure to a normal
state. Otherwise the initial assumptions evaluating the relative effectiveness
of rival societies (and their social regimes) should be reconsidered.

105
The Most Evident Structure of History: Techno-Ecological Stages
In any more or less isolated part of the globe there is a specific local
bunch of competing techno-ecological regimes distributed among coexist-
ing societies with various levels of technological development. The gener-
alized levels of such development which can be revealed on the regime ef-
fectiveness criteria are called techno-technological stages (in line to
W. Rostow, D. Bell, L. White et al.). We use stages not as chronological
epochs (see below concerning real world-wide epochs) but as levels of
technological development and human-nature coevolution taken only for
individual society.
Three first world-wide stages: communities of hunters-gatherers-
fishers, agrarian and industrial societies are accepted almost by everybody
and are not a subject for debate. We will call them Societies with Techolo-
gies of Getting (the Stage I), Societies with Agraian-Artisan Technologies
(the Stage II) and Societies with Industrial Technologies (the Stage III).
The well-known irreversible traits (and correspondent regimes) for
these stages are:
Stage I: highly-skilled control of fire, systematic production and
storage of tools and weapons, articulated funeral rituals.
Stage II: domestication of plants and animals (agraria), ceramics,
metallurgy, and weaving; wheel (not everywhere); also in most advanced
societies of the stage: complex mechanisms with transmittance of mechani-
cal energy (mills, pumps, presses, coins production, rudimentary printing,
clocks and clock-like mechanisms).
Stage III: wide, systematic use and production of machines with
transformation of various kinds of energy (since steam-engine); in later pe-
riods of the stage: electrical, chemical, nuclear, and bio-tecchnologies.
It seems that the current stage really differs from technologies of
XVIII, XIX and even first half of XX centuries. Instead of the terms 'post-
industrial', or 'informational' society,'technologies of the third wave' etc., I
propose the concept and term Societies with Service Technologies (the
Stage IV). By designating service technologies as the irreversible traits of a
new stage, I mean large, complex agregates including networks of elements
of varied nature (material processes, transport-communication, social-
organizational, cultural-symbolical, intellectual-and-computer-networks in-
gredients, etc.) that can involve industrial or agrarian components as partial

106
functions. These new complex technologies are generally directed not to
mere 'production of goods' but to provision of vast range of various ser-
vices.
The origin of service technologies lies in postwar military and
American and Soviet space programs and projects. Large publishing and
book-marketing companies, international tourism, modern military organi-
zations (like NATO), global telephone networks, the Internet are good ex-
amples of service techologies in action.
One stage does not replace another in a moment. For each society
some intermediate period of transition should be revealed. Here the method
of J. Goudsblom is rather useful. Within a given society a transition period
begins when some one unit (a group, community, economic region) appro-
priates techno-ecological regimes of a new stage. The transition period
comes to its end when the majority of primary productive centers in this
society accept new regimes. After the convincing victory of a new stage,
various techno-ecological regimes of former stages can sustain for millenia
as isolated residues or peripheral parts of new regimes (take fishing, hunt-
ing and gathering in far-away places of Amazonia or Eastern Siberia up to
our days).

Dealing with Nonlinearity of History and Diversity of Societies:


Type-Attractors and Zones of Crisis
In order to conceptualize clear and essential differences between
uniphase societies we adopt the concept of type-attractor - a hybrid of We-
ber's 'ideal type' and Prigogine's 'attractor'. Type-attractor is a framework or
skeleton (most general structure) of regimes which serves as a common
implicit pattern for all societies 'thrown into' similar interior and exterior
conditions, which means that these societies, under a given set of condi-
tions, are naturally 'drawn' or 'attracted' to become more close or similar to
this pattern.
A type-attractor can be depicted also as a locus in the space of multi-
ple dimensions that 'attracts' and 'grasps' societies browsing in crisis (zone
of bifurcation). Systemic 'attracting' and shifting of societies toward the
center of a type-attractor manifest in history as phenomena of social reso-
nance, megatrend (Rozov 1992; 1996) or dynamic strategy (Snooks 1996)
when all powerful and influental social groups are involved in intercon-

107
nected and mutually useful activities that provide satisfaction of their basic
needs and stable social comfort.
When growth begins to plateau, this means that the society has
achieved the very center of type-attractor and correspondent period of blos-
soming and stability. The center of each type-attractor means maximal mu-
tual correspondence and harmony among all human regimes of a society in
this center as well as harmony between environmental regimes and human
techno-ecological regimes.
Sooner or later inevitable accumulation of internal (f.e. ecological or
demographical) and external (f.e. geopolitical) tensions will constitute a
new series of challenges (A. Toynbee), pushing the society out of the type-
attractor into a zone of bifurcation and crisis, where the society is again
open to influences of the old and also of various new type-attractors. Histo-
rians know (mostly after the brilliant Toynbean scheme 'challenge-
response-new challenge-new response) that a crisis can lead not only to de-
cline and collapse but often to new ways of development, new growth and
further systemic transformation. These proceses are conceptualized as the
transition of society to a principally new attractor. If this attractor obtains
clearly more effective and irreversible regimes it must be located in a
higher social phase. According to the majority of modern macrodynamic
theories (see the comprehensive review in Sanderson 1995a) the emergence
of any higher type-attractor and social phase was caused not by 'automatic'
accumulation of progressive features (as Enlightment philosophers, Herder
and Marx proposed) but as a result of fortunate solution of some very sharp
crisis (compare with the Kantian doctrine of "antagonism", Hegel's "cun-
ning of Reason", and Toynbee's "challenge-response").
Criteria for recognizing and distinguishing type-attractors make up a
task not less difficult than the similar task for regimes (see above). In any
case the major heuristics is to postulate the very conceptual core of a given
type-attractor (stable complex of main social functions, social modes, kinds
of interactions and rutuals, see Rozov 1992; Collins 1998). This core
should also be presented as a specific locus in the space of main dimen-
sions (variables) in contrast to other locuses (other types-attractors). There
is much more to be done than achieved results in this field but current and fur-
ther useful connections between traditional historical typologies and cliometrics
seem to be promising.

108
Combining Stages, Phases and Type-Attractors
Each (techno-ecological) stage includes one or more (social) phases
(with the exclusion of Stage III which splits the modern phase into prein-
dustrial and industrial layers, see below). In turn each phase includes vari-
ous attractors and vast bifurcational zones of crises.
The preliminary sketch of the structure based on approaches of
I. Diakonoff, W. Green, J. Goudsblom. F. Spier, and C. Chase-Dunn, is as
follows (the main type-attractors are listed in brackets). It should be em-
phasized that deliberately traditional names of stages and phases (primitive,
barbarian, etc.,) are provided by lists of types-attractors and irreversible
traits that are at least disputable.
The Stage I "Societies with Technologies of Getting" includes the
Phase 1 "Primitive Societies" (hunters-gatherers-fishers nomadic and more
or less settled bands). The irreversible traits: high skills of collective hunt-
ing, fishing and military activities (attacks and defenses between rivalry
communities), existence of language, local rituals and myths serving for
maintenance of solidarity and transmission of cultural capital. (The older
regimes belonged also to rivalry hominids, like neanthertals, who were ab-
solutely exterminated, largely because of evident advantages of Homo Sa-
pience regimes).
The Stage II Societies with Agrarian-Artisan Technologies includes:
The Phase 2 Barbarian Societies (tribes, big-man systems, chief-
doms, complex chiefdoms, noms and other kinds of proto-states). Irre-
versible traits: stable stratified masculine military unions; wide inter-
community interactions and relations based on military, and marriage-
kinship alliances; oral heroical epic and/or military-based teogonia.
The Phase 3 Archaic or Early-State Societies (early despotisms, early
polities, fragile conquest world-empires, nomadic empires, various archaic
and early medieval kingdoms, princedoms, etc.). Irreversible features: re-
sults of First military revolution (Parker ), first of all appearence of the
state as a stable social structure with a government that a) has legitimate
monopoly for violence over the given territory (M. Weber); b) can coerce
people to labor and war (R. Carneiro); c) is more or less autonomous of
kinship relations (C. Chase-Dunn and Th. Hall); primitive script for practi-
cal and religious purposes; the very first historical records and primary lit-
erature; primitive means of exchange, proto-money.

109
Phase 4 Mature Premodern Societies (stable classical and medieval
empires with world religions, developed polities and commercial city-
republics, developed feudal and other medieval societies, ex-colonies with-
out industry and without developed nation-states regimes). Irreversible
traits: stable effective means for resource mobilization over vast territories
and long periods; developed literary, historical, sometimes philosophical
and even scientific traditions; real money, well developed system of meas-
urements; intermittent involvement in long-distance military and/or trade
enterprises.
Phase 5.1. Modern Preindustrial Societies (absolutist states, early
capitalist states with democratic and authoritarian versions, empires modi-
fied by assimilation of nation-state regimes, early colonial empires). Irre-
versible features: results of Second military revolution, i.e. emergence of
absolutist and later nation-states with strong bureaucracy, police, unified
legal system, emergence of mass education, mass communication means,
national ideologies; various financial instruments, banks, capital (as legally
defended systematic reinvestment into military or market oriented produc-
tion); first large and stable, bureaucratized commercial organizations, per-
manent involment in long-distance commerce; emergence of mutual en-
forcement between science and artisan inventions.
The Stage III Societies with Industrial Technologies includes: Phase
5.2. Modern Industrial Societies (the same as in 5.1 + mature capitalists
states, mature colonial empires, socialist and fascist states and empires, ex-
colonies with industry and developed nation-state regimes). Irreversible
traits: almost total school education and emergence of mass higher educa-
tion; spread of scientific institutions and networks; major productive and
social regimes are based on large complex organizations; on mature levels
of this phase a systematic and effective application of natural sciences
emerges.
The Stage IV Societies with Service Technologies include:Phase 6.
Sensitive Societies (the same as in 5.2), diverging and transforming into:
liberal capitalism like USA or Western Europe, corporate capitalism like
Japan or Singapore, and state capitalism like Sweden. Irreversible traits:
transition to total higher education; permanent attention to national and in-
ternational activities in ecological (environmental) problematique; new
natural effects are studied and commercially (or militarily) applied on in-

110
dustrial basis; systematic and effective application of social sciences; diag-
nostics and monitoring of internal and external social conflicts and prob-
lems; systematic account of mass attitudes in social policy.

World-Wide Periodization: An Apriori Conceptualizing


The next step is to present explicitly the general approach of recog-
nizing world-wide social epochs which can be criticised and improved be-
yond particular versions of dating.
In each moment or period of human history one finds a bulk of coex-
isting and competing human regimes aggregated into societies belonging to
various stages, phases, and type-attractors. Is it possible to present any
world-wide periodization taking into account this diversity and non-
linearity?
First we make a distinction between chronology and phaseology
(Goudsblom). In the presented structure of stages, phases and types-
attractors there were no dates at all. The boundaries between phases and the
boundaries between stages should be made on the basis of the ITA-criterion
for each single society. It is still not a periodization because all these irre-
versible traits appear in various societies in various historical periods or
even with the tremendous gap of centuries and millenia.
The initial presumption is that each world-wide epoch (as a chrono-
logical unit) is shaped in key aspects by the most effective regimes and so-
cieties. A large epoch is by no means a rigid stability, it is full of changes.
But all these changes eventually are effects of enwidening dominance of
the most efficient regimes. Even regressions, involutions, various counter-
reactions are caused directly or indirectly by new techno-ecological and so-
cial dominant regimes and societies.
W. McNeill has demonstrated that cross-cultural encounters are cru-
cial for the dynamics and the very shape of world-history (1963). Recently
J. Bentley made an attempt to periodize world history on the base of pro-
gress of scope and intensivity of such encounters (1996). In my approach I
use data concerning such encounters as historical tests for comparative
evaluation of regime effectiveness between societies from different geo-
graphical regions and type-attractors. Moreover a special systemic interpre-
tation of these encounters' results can help us make valid statements of

111
world-wide epochs and boundaries between epochs. Consider this crucial
point in more detail. The following statements have the status of conceptual
assumptions for further revealing particular epochs and dates.
The world-wide historical epoch (further epoch) is defined as a vast
chronological period during which there is a clear growing or achieved
dominance of societies of some new stage or social phase (sometimes of
new type-attractor that is more effective in new conditions) over all leaders
of any past periods. The general picture of each epoch is expansion of new
more efficient regimes (and correspondent stages and phases) of the socie-
ties-leaders to other societies at the cost of peripherizing or elimination of
past regimes, stages, and phases.
Epoch do not start in a moment but usually undergo a rather long
starting transition period which is simultaniously a decline period of the
previous epoch and previous leaders-dominants. Thus each epoch has four
periods: (1) a dawn of the epoch, i.e. a starting transition period; (2) a ma-
jor or core period, i.e. the hight of predominance of correspondent social
regimes and societies; (3) a decline or a demise of the epoch, i.e. a next
transition period which is starting for the next epoch, and finally (4) a very
long 'tail' of far peripheral residues during the emergence of a new epochs.
In order to conceptualize the transition from local stages and phases
to world-wide epochsone we need a list of world regions.

The Problem and Listing of World Regions


World regions should be defined on the basis of high mutual access
and intense encounters among the human populations within a region and
much more difficult access, absence or low degree of contacts between
populations of different regions. For world-wide periodization not all geo-
graphical but only major world regions with potential or actual grand cen-
ters of high population density play a crucial role.
It is a special task to reveal the precise and valid list of world regions
on the basis of empirical data and calculations. Here we take a simplified
version of the following 15 major world regions (in alphabetical order):
1. Australia; 2. Central Africa; 3. Central Asia; 4. East Europe;
5. East South America; 6. Mesoamerica; 7. Middle East or South-West
Asia (with a center in Elam-Persia-Iran,Pakistan); 8. Near East and North

112
Africa (NENAF); 9. North America; 10. Polynesia; 11. South Africa;
12. South Asia (India et al.); 13. South-East Asia (China et. al);
14. Western Europe; 15. Western South America.
Besides these major regions there are multiple intermediate minor
regions that have less area and/or lower population and are mostly domi-
nated by one of the neighboring major regions. I.e. vast Siberia with rather
low population density is between East Europe (her current dominant),
Central and South-East Asia (her historically previous dominants). The
populations of Greenland, Antarctica, and Oceania are too small for them
to have the status of major regions but the much more densely populated
Central Europe is too small and structurally blocked between Western and
East Europe as her alternate dominants. The same can be said on regions
between South and South-East Asia, between West and East South Amer-
ica, etc.
The work of periodizing begins from identifying the scale of techno-
ecological stages or social phases (see above the versions of 4 stages and 6
phases), and fixing the chronology of society-leaders of each stage or
phase in each major world region. The period of transition (1) begins with
the first clear victories and expansive wave of new regimes and their carrier
(a pioneer society) which continuously leads to further expansion of these
regimes in the main part of at least one world region. Let's call it the 1-st
wave criterion. During the major part of a transition period the sharp strug-
gle between new and old happens in this favored world region, while all
other regions are still dominated by old regimes and societies and corre-
spondently belong to a previous epoch.
The core period (2) begins (and the transition period ends) when af-
ter dramatic widely known showdown encounter or choice at least in 2 ma-
jor world regions (see above the list) became dominanted by the leaders of
the new epoch; and at least one of these leaders is (or will be) a one of 2-3
global leaders of the new epoch. If this showdown encounter or choice in-
volving a new global leader occurs later (I.e. in the 3-rd, 4-th or 5-th major
world region) namely this victory of new regimes is defined as an end of
the transition period.
The number of "2 regions" indicates here a breakthrough of locality.
The requirement of the first occurence of global leadership is necessary for
exclusion of possible historical situations when two or more peripheral

113
world regions become dominated by new leaders but the major scene of
global rivalry occurs in fact on another end of the globe, and the major en-
counters occur much later. Let's call this construction 'two-regions-with-
new-global leader' criterion or the 2RGL-criterion.
The method of dating the beginning and end points of each world-wide
transition period is based on the 1-st wave criterion given above, and 2RGL-
criterion correspondently.

World-Wide Techno-Ecological Periodization


The Epoch of Getting: 500,000 - 20,000 B.C.E. The Sub-Epoch of
the Paleolithic; varios species of hominids share regimes of fire control and
primitive tools making; 2 pioneer world regions of Stage I are Central Af-
rica and NENAF;
20,000 - 10,000 B.C.E. The Sub-Epoch of the Mesolithic. Rival
hominids are exterminated. Among Homo sapience sapiens new regimes
emerge that are proved by the appearence of such new refined tools and
arms as microlites, needles, axes, bows, mattocks, etc.(Chard 1975). Two
pioneers: NENAF and Western Europe.
10-5 000 B.C.E. - 1780-1800 A.C.E., the Agrarian-Artisan Epoch
(with predominance of societies and regimes of the Stage II); two pioneers
of the new stage: NENAF and South-East Asia; Neolitic Revolution and
Industrial Revolution frame this grand techno-ecological epoch;
1800 - ca.1960, the Industrial Epoch (with the predominance of so-
cieties and regimes of Stage III); two pioneers of the new stage: Western
Europe and North America; since ca.1960, the Service Epoch (with a pre-
dominance of societies and regimes in Stage IV); two pioneers of the new
stage: North America and East Europe.
This scheme does not differ radically from the versions of long-term
tradition since Turgot and Condorcet up to D. Bell. W. Rostow, E. Gellner,
M. Hodgson et al. It is not bad according to the Principle of Flexible Tradi-
tionalism, and we turn now to more intriguing and controversial approach
to social periodization.

114
World-Wide Social Periodization:
Preliminary Results and Major Schifts
Each world-wide social epoch is shaped by its leading of dominant
regimes and societies that can be indicated first of all by results of encoun-
ters (military-political, economic, migrational and cultural). The social and
cultural regimes of a leader basically expand more intensively and exten-
sively than rival regimes. Such cases characterized by more or less equal
mutual exchange are qualified as a parity between such rival societies and
their regimes. Only far-distant and isolated parts of the world can escape
this shaping for some time and live by patterns of previous epochs until a
new intensive series of encounters begins.
Dominant societies of each epoch have most effective regimes in
given conditions. Normally they belong to the most effective social phase.
At the same time not every epoch is marked by the emergence of a new
phase. Some new leaders (namely early medieval and late medieval domi-
nants) can belong to the same social phase but appear to be better adapted
to new specific conditions than leaders of previous epochs (medieval socie-
ties with their highly professionalized armies, flexible political structures
and armsless religiously controlled peasants turned out to be more resistant
to the permanent geopolitical pressure from nomadic and other kinds of
barbarians than classical societies).
A special problem of any periodization is terminology. I would sug-
gest a compromise between two principles: (a) to name each epoch accord-
ing to the name of its dominant social phase; and to make terms as close as
possible to the conventional ones in historical research and teaching.
A primary application of the given criteria to historical data (without
needed detailed comparative evaluation and calculation) gives the follow-
ing results.
The Primitive Epoch.
1. Transition period: 100,000 - 40,000 B.C.E. The pioneering major
world regions of a new (human) social phase: Central Africa and NENAF;
a new leading species Homo sapiens sapiens forces out and exterminates
rival hominids. It means that the first epoch of social evolution is embed-
ded in normal biological evolution and natural selection of species.
2. Core period: 40,000 - 8,000 B.C.E. Global leaders: major races of
Homo sapeins sapiens inhabit almost the whole globe including the Ameri-

115
cas.
3. Decline: 8,000-5,000 B.C.E. (see below the new transition period).
4. Examples of peripheral residues ('tails'): indigenous peoples in
Australia, Oceania, Amazonia that first met European colonizers in XVI-
XIX centuries.
The Barbarian Epoch.
1. Transition period: 8,000-5,000 B.C.E. The pioneers of the 2-nd
phase (Barbarian societies): NENAF (Ierichon, valleys of Mesopotamia)
and South-East Asia (the valley of Hwang He). This transition is parallel to
and following the Neolithic Revolution (as a transition between Mesolitic
and Agrarian-Artisan epochs in techno-ecological periodization).
2. Core period: 5,000 - 3,000 B.C.E. Global leaders: inhabitants of
Vavilov's originating centers of agriculture (see also Diamond 1997).
3. Decline: 3,000 - 2,300 B.C.E. (see below the next transition pe-
riod).
4. Residues: indigenous Indians of Northern America up to XVII-
XVIII centuries; chiefdoms and tribes in some places of Polynesia and
Oceania; nomadic and mountain chiefdoms of Central Asia.
The Archaic (or Preclassical) Epoch.
1. Transition period: 3,000-2,300 B.C.E. The pioneers of the 3-d
phase (Archaic Societies or Early States): Sumer and united Egypt in
NENAF, Harrappa in the Middle East. Most valid and promising conceptu-
alizations of this transition belong to R.Carneiro (the circumscription the-
ory of the origin of the state, Carneiro 1979) and J.Parker (the conception
of First Military Revolution).
2. Core period: 2,300 - 650 B.C.E. Major leaders are well known
early civilizations: Egyptian Kingdoms, Sumer-Akkad-Babylonia-Hittite-
Mitanni-Assyria-Media in NENAF; Harrappa and later Aryans in South-
Asia; empires Shang-In in South-East Asia.
3. Decline: 650 - 500 B.C.E.(see below the next transition period).
4. Residues: small mountain states in Caucasis, Pamir, Tian-Schan
before penetration of world religions; Pre-Columbian civilizations in
Americas.
The Classical (or Axial) Epoch.
1. Transition period: 650-500 B.C.E. The pioneers of the 4-th phase
(Mature Premodern Societies): Akhemenid Persia in NENAF and Greece in

116
Western Europe. This is just the well known axial age (Jaspers, Hodgson).
2. Core period: 500 B.C.E. - 225 C.E. In the Eastern Hemisphere the
leaders were well known classical empires such as the Athenian Navy Un-
ion, Macedonia, Rome in Western Europe; Akhemenid Persia, Ptolemaic
Egypt in NENAF; Seleucid empire, Parthia, Bactria in Middle East; Ku-
shan, Asokas and Mauria in South Asia; Qin and Han dinastiees in South-
East Asia. In Western Hemisphere it is just the time of Neolitic Revolution
but according to accepted criteria the world-wide epochs are recognized on
the basis of the most effective stages and phases.
3. Decline: 225 - 650 C.E. (see below the next transition period).
4. Residues: marginalized ethnic groups with unusually high (some-
times total) literacy, values of personal dignity and freedom (Greeks in
Mediterranian and Blacks sea basin, Jews, Assyrians, etc.).
The Early Medieval (or Postclassical, Postaxial) Epoch.
1. Transition period: 225 - 650 C.E. Within the same 4-th phase
(Mature Premodern Societies) the pioneers of new medieval type-attractors
are: Three Kingdoms in China and Arabs in NENAF who proved to have a
parity of military-organizational regimes with Byzantium circa 650 C.E.
According to Diakonoff (1994) the main diagnostic criteria of medieval so-
cieties are (1) the end of personal liberty as a normal state for major pro-
ductive social classes, segregation of population into 'nobles'and 'common,
mean'people; (2) the end of religious freedom; emergence and spread of re-
ligious coercion, religious wars, and suppression of heresies; (3) formation
of specialized, professional warriors, usually with hard sophisticated ar-
mour and arms (European knights, Japanese samurais are best known but
by no means the only examples).
2. Core period: 650 - 1250 C.E. The major leaders: Byzantine Em-
pire, and Arabian Khalifats (Omeyads, Abbasydes, Fatamids. etc.) in
NENAF; Franks, Carolinians, Holy Roman Empire, Papas in Western
Europe; Kiev Russia in East Europe; Sassanid and Samanid Persia in
NENAF and Middle East; the Gupt Empire in South Asia; the Song dy-
nasty in South-East Asia. Hunnes, Sunnu, Gottes, Slavs, Germans, Kidani,
Uigurs, Bulgars, Kumans, Khazars, Mongols, Turks-Seldjukes and other
barbarians (mostly nomadic or semi-nomadic) provide regular challenges
from the Center of Eurasia. Sometimes they are assimilated by sedentary
societies (Hunnes, Kidani, Karakhenids, Volga Bulgars), sometimes they

117
create nomadic empires (Sunnu, Sianbi, Jujanes, Uigurs). It is also a period
(since circa 200-300 C.E.) of intensive development of Archaic societies
(the Phase 3) with some signs of transition to Mature Premodern Societies
(the Phase 4) in pre-Columbian Americas (Maya, Tolteks, Zapoteks, Az-
tecs, Inka, Kechua, Chibcha, etc.).
3. Decline: 1250 - 1453 (see below concerning the next transition pe-
riod).
4. Residues: those societies that managed to experience minimal ef-
fect of Mongol and Osman conquests, Black Death and Renaissance.
Probably societies of Indo-China, Siam, Burma, minor kingdoms in South
India, Polynesia before European invasion seem to be residues of Early
Medieval Epoch.
The Mature Medieval Epoch.
1. Transition period: 1206 - 1250. Great conquests of Mongols re-
shape Eurasia. After consolidation of Mongols by Chingis-Han 1206 and
triumphal victories almost in the whole of Eurasia (circa 1250) they con-
nect it by Pax Mongolica (the world-systems of XIII century by J.Abu-
Lughod).
2. Core period: 1250 - 1588. The leaders of this period are results of
Mongolian conquests (like Golden Orda in East Asia, Great Mogols in
South Asia, Yang, Min, Zsin in South-East Asia, etc.), Osman Empire,
Hapsburg Empires in Spain and Austria, Poland, Lituania, and Moscow in
Central and Eastern Europe. Macrochanges of this period were connected
with the establishment of Pax Mongolica, its collapse because of political
division and Black Death (circa 1350), blocking of central nodes of trade
by Osmans, especially after the fall of Byzantium (1453) that forced Euro-
peans to seek new ways to the Indies. 1492 or 1500 are not emphasized
here as epochal watersheds because Portuguese and Spanish expeditions
and colonization until circa 1600 did not differ essentially from earlier me-
dieval military-trade expeditions of Arabs, Crusaders, Venetians, Genoese,
Osmans, Chinese, etc. 1500 is a great point in possible periodization of
geographical discoveries but not in periodization of the evolution of social
regimes.
3. Decline: 1588 - 1700 (see below the next transition period).
4. Residues: almost all of the old great empires and post-mongolian
minor societies of Old World that met European and Russian colonists

118
since 1500 belonged to these residues (Mogols in India, Osmans in
NENAF, Persia in Middle-East, Siberian Tatars, Manchurja in East Asia,
Tokugava Japan, etc.).
The Early Modern Epoch.
1. Transition period: 1588 - 1700. Second military revolution, emer-
gence of absolutism and country-wide capitalist mode of relations make up
the essence of this period (Parker Mann, Tilly Braudel, Wallerstein). Neth-
erlands and England were pioneer societies where almost the whole coun-
try accepted new capitalist regimes (not just city-states as in Venise, Ge-
noe, Florence and the multiple of commercial centers of Arabia and Afro-
Indian basin (Chaudhuri, Frank). The roots of the capitalist mode go far
back, maybe even to regular commodity production in Ancient Sumer
(3,000 - 2,300 B.C.E.) but these cases always were eventually dominated
by new world-empires. For the convincing first wave of the new epoch we
have chosen the defeat of the Great Armada in 1588 that had radically
switched the balance from old powers (Spain and Portugal) to new ones
(England, Netherlands, and eventually France). In contrast to conventional
(eurocentric) beliefs a transformation of one world region is not sufficient
for announcing the emergence of a new epoch. According to the 2WRGL
we need a second world region for fixation of the result.
2. Core period: 1700 – 1800.
3. Decline: 1800-1861.
Recent history is rather well known but at the same time can draw
out the sharpest debates. Because the focus of this paper is in the very
principle of structurizing, not in particular dating we give here only the fi-
nal results of structurizing without comments.
The Mature Modern Epoch.
1. Transition period: 1800 - 1861
2. Core period: 1861 - 1945
3. Decline: 1945 - 1990
The Current Epoch
1. Transition period: 1945 - 1990
2. Core period: 1990 - ?
Each epoch includes 'tails' of almost all previous epochs. Thus at the
end of tge XIX and beginning of the XX centuries (the height of the Mature
Modern Epoch) one could meet not only modern industrial societies (Phase

119
5.2) which were still in the minority (societies of Europe, North America,
and Japan), but also mature premodern societies like China and Turkey
(Phase 4), archaic societies in the Caucasis, Tibet, Gimalai mountains and
maybe some fluent results of decolonization in South America (Phase 3),
barbarian societies in some regions of Africa and Polynesia (Phase 2) and
even dozens of primitive societies (Phase 1) in the depths of Amazonia,
Central Africa and Australia, far-distance isles of Oceania.
It is rather evident that many choices (selected events and dates) are
not perfect and should be replaced. The conceptual definitions and criteria
of beginnings and ends of epochs which can also be refined in order to
serve more efficiently for further work. The presented table is by no means
a final result but just the first provocative step.
It is worth discussing here the most evident discrepancy between the
proposed scheme and tradtional periodizing. I mean too late dating of the
end of the Middle Ages and beginning of Modern period. Almost all recent
periodizations (Stearns, Green, Bentley, et. al.) use the year 1500 (or 1492)
as a turning point to modernity mainly because the era of great geographi-
cal discoveries was opened in this period. For certain special periodizations
of the development of geographical knowledge this would be quite ade-
quate. But in a comprehensive social periodization the major substance is
emergence, change and expansion of social and cultural regimes. My point
is that the primary Portuguese and Spanish discoveries, conquests and
commercial enterprises did not differ radically from similar activities of
Arabian conquests and commercial expeditions since VII century, Crusades
since XI century with further Venetian and Genoese military-commercial
enterprises, Chinese state expeditions, etc. which we do not hesitate to clas-
sify as part of the Middle Ages, not Modernity. Such formal features as
Spain and Portugal belonging to Europe geographically, are absolutely mis-
leading for the task of revealing genuine, deep social shifts. One can find
them clearly only in organizing East-Indian companies in the Netherlands
and especially in England where a substantially new regime emerged: a co-
operation between individual investors, bankers, merchants, political au-
thorities, army, sailors, et al. A series of showdown victories of new leaders
(Netherlands and England) over the old leader - Spain - refer to 1581-1648,
not to 1500. At the same time it was not a beginning of a new world-wide
epoch but just the first wave only in one of the world regions. Almost dur-

120
ing all of the XVII and even the XVIII centuries we find medieval regimes
almost everywhere, including Europe itself (suffice to say that witch proc-
esses came to their end only circa 1780-1790). The breakthough of moder-
nity on a world-wide scale happened only when some showdown victory of
a new global leader takes place in a second world region. We know two
such global leaders - England and Russia (major rivals for Asia in the XIX
century from South and North respectively). Both achieved clear military
success: Russia over the Osman Empire in the Black Sea (Western Asia)
and England over the Mogols in India (Southern Asia) circa 1770. This
date must be considered as a clear end of the transition period from the
Middle Ages to Modernity, never mind that in a mere three decades Europe
will experience a new wave to mature modernity (reforms of Napoleon
circa 1800), that Medieval China still dominated in Eastern Asia and that in
many other world regions a great mass of medieval regimes and features
persisted, sometimes until 1940-1950.

A New Turn to Progress?


The visible progressive linearism of stages and phases can and
should be replaced by a multiplicity of type-attractors and a correspondent
multiplicity of long-term trajectories that individual societies pass crossing
world-wide epochs.
The overall scale of epochs is progressive, but only in the aspect of
general effectiveness: leaders and the major part of societies of each later
epoch are more effective in new current conditions than leaders and all the
rest societies of any previous epoch. One can only imagine the results of
encounters between modern and ancient societies (post-Columbian con-
quests give a hint). At the same time such criterion of effectiveness as den-
sity of population tells clearly that some significant progress in human re-
gimes did take place. The unfashinable word 'progress' as well as 'state',
'society', 'selection' and 'evolution' must be brought back into macrohistori-
cal research.
One can easily see a certain similarity of this scheme with the Hege-
lian doctrine of transition of world spirit from nation to nation (East-
>Greeks->Romans->Germans) or the shift of dominance doctrine by
F. Braudel, I. Wallerstein, A.G. Frank, G. Modelski, et al. The analogy is in
fact rather correct.

121
At the same time the general on-going movement of humanity to
more effective regimes and probably more reason (with an increasing
breadth and density of intellectual networks, see Collins 1998) does not al-
ways mean more happiness for the majority of human populations, more
security, more freedom, more comfort, etc.
Moreover each society is not at all necessarily progressive but can
suffer decline, collapse or even extinction while meeting with Toynbean
challenges: new environmental conditions or/and exterior social tensions
mainly from the side of new rising leaders. The evident general non-
linearity of history is conceptualized here by means of a diverse range of
type-attractors in each stage and phase, the open possibility for any society
to suffer crisis, decline, sometimes regression to previous phases, and even
collapse and extinction.
The main novelty here is that the conceptual framework presented,
that of human regimes, techno-ecological stages, social phases, type-
attractors and world-wide epochs does not close the explanatory problems
of this 'transition' phenomenon but opens new research prospects for this
essential theoretical work. The problem can be formulated in such a way:
what conditions (natural and human regimes, their consequences) are nec-
essary and sufficient for the emergence of new social and cultural regimes
that will be the first wave for the rise of new world-wide historical epoch?
An answer to this question will be valid only if each first pioneer
wave is deduced from the general law and information of given local con-
ditions (Hempel 1942). Thus reflections on the structure of history lead to a
really intriguing problematique of explanatory and predictive approach to
macrohistorical dynamics (Collins 1995; Rozov 1997).

Moral Humanism versus Effectiveness:


Are they Really Incompatible?
The second expected criticism concerns immorality of the main pre-
supposition of given evolutionary approach: it can be said that all kinds of
effectiveness criteria in human history mean technical or biological reduc-
tion, defend the terror of wars, neglect the best humanistic, moral and aeth-
setical values, and express the worst tendencies of cruel, predatory and nar-
row Western rationality.

122
In comparison to old social-darwinistic ideas the main conceptual
shift is in generalizing the very concepts of conflict, competition and selec-
tion and turning from a biological focus on races and gens to a socio-
cultural focus of human regimes.
Not races and not (only) nations, ethnic groups compete, but their re-
gimes. I.e. military winners while grasping advantage in making choices
commonly accept regimes borrowed from defeated populations. The classi-
cal case is appropriation by Ottoman Turks of almost the whole of the Byz-
antine system of land relations. Here the social regime of defeated people
did not die or become marginalized but experienced further expansion
along with the forthcoming vast Ottoman conquests.
The effectiveness of regimes and societies by no means should be
confused with any kind of moral approval. Transitions to more effective
military and political regimes in new conditions sometimes were accompa-
nied with a decline in the quality of life (as measured by such parameters as
daily menu, daily labor time, life expectancy), degradation in equality, jus-
tice and human rights for the majority of the population (take i.e. transition
from barbarian chiefdoms to archaic despotism) or for vast external popula-
tions (a turn to conquest and colonial regimes).
At the same time we should also realize that morality per se, without
mass and powerful support, never saved anybody in human history as well
as in the history of biological evolution. Indexes of all detailed world histo-
ries are full of hundreds of perished ethnic groups, societies and languages.
This is a non-humanistic reality of human history and we should not close
eyes to it simply because of moral humanistic values that I certainly share
with my probable ctitics.
At the same time, is it really true that moral and humanistic values
live in some special Platonic world of ideas and have nothing common with
regimes and effectiveness?
Mass slavery and serfdom perished in 1860-1870. The greatest mod-
ern aggressors such as Napoleon and Hitler were stopped and defeated.
Chemical, biological, and nuclear weapons are (still?) not used. Military
operations did not stop but contemporary politicians in each case must take
into account waves of inevitable domestic and international opposition.
Why?

123
The answer is that at least some minimal humanistic values pene-
trated into mass consciousness and even the minds of ruling elites who now
experience more severe internal and external political constraints than in
earlier times. It means that moralism and humanism as a part of contempo-
rary cultural, legal and political regimes occured to be rather effective.
My argument is not to reject evolutionary patterns and regime effec-
tiveness as rude immoral categories but to think how to embed moral and
humanistic values into the most effective and powerful cultural and social
regimes.
We are doomed to live in an evolutionary world but it does not mean
that the increasing effectiveness of humanistic regimes and new more hu-
manistic phases and epochs of social evolution are impossible.

Culturalism in Evolutionary Perspective:


Bringing Ideas and Agency Back In
The third anticipated criticism turns us to the beginning of the paper.
Return to science and social evolutionism seem to undermine the grand tra-
dition of the humanities, cultural studies, analytical philosophy and her-
menutics: the whole realm of intellectual activities that deal with texts, art
and cultural meanings.
Mutual distrust and estrangement between the 'two cultures'
(C.P. Snow) are fruitless. Normal competition between these camps for the
space of intellectual attention must take some new form. Races of mutual
rejection and criticisms should be replaced by races of attempts for the best
versions of integration. There are already promising approaches in this way
(Pomper 1996; McNeill 1998; Adas 1998).
Consider a following sketch of such a connection. The effectiveness
of a regime as a major factor of social evolution delivers constraints for
cultural meanings in the short-term. Cultural meanings as well as other
types of cultural patterns ((Kroeber) - words, syntax, rituals, norms, values,
recipes, methods - serve people, serve social regimes. Sharp deficiencies of
required cultural meanings, i.e. ideological ones, can and frequently do un-
dermine current social regimes. Emergence and expansion of religions can-
not be cut off from social struggles between political factions, empires and
geopolitical conjuncture. Cultural meanings and culture as a whole evi-

124
dently have their own space and trajectories of change, but in addition they
are is some sense instrumental for survival and for the development of so-
cial regimes. We should learn to see statements of this kind not as insulting
but as leading to new cognitive perspectives in cultural studies.
Over the long-term this relation converts (is turned over). Social re-
gimes emerge and die in the course of decades and centuries but cultural
patterns live for millenia. It is an old Spenglerian doctrine that cultural
praphenomena shape all spheres of society including politics and econom-
ics. A paradigm of this kind is basic for hermeneutics and civilizationism
still is in some degree fruitful. But it must be supplemented by studies of
cultural evolution: an ongoing competition between meanings (ideas, val-
ues, worldviews) in the longue duree. Within this perspective the rise and
fall of social regimes and societies are instrumental for processes of cul-
tural evolution within each long-lived civilization (actual + memorial) and
for the grand process of global cultural evolution based on change and
competition between world civilizations and minor cultures.
What is needed most of all for intellectual breakthroughs are new on-
tological and conceptual frameworks that can connect all these diverse ar-
eas of knowledge with each other and with traditions of humanities, in par-
ticular with philosophy of history. If concepts and constructions presented
in this paper turn out to be wrong or misleading some new ones necessarily
must emerge.

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5

CULTURAL EVOLUTION:

SYSTEMS AND META-SYSTEM

Alex Brown

The aim of this paper is to present a general framework for the


discussion, definition and study of the processes of Cultural Evolution
defined here as the processes by which cultural forms emerge and change
over time through a process of cumulative selection of social behaviour. To
this end, the paper proposes an evolutionary model of cultural processes
based on the cumulative effects of communication and exchange between the
agents of a Cultural System defined here as a network of exchange. Within
the closed environment of the system and constrained by the state of its
environment, collective acts of selection and combination produces generic
sets of behaviour which are then used as templates for future mapping of the
system’s environment. These uniformities of behaviour are defined as
Cultural Paradigms They are a product of the tendency of cultural systems to
integrate the diversity of experience within the system. Continuous exchange
in a stable environment results in the formation of a single dominant
behavioural routine - the Meta-system which can be used to represent or
model a wide variety of different contexts with a minimum number of
behavioural elements. Given the continuity of stable environmental
conditions, the Meta-system itself evolves through various stages till the
contradictions produced by the continuous integration of standard forms of
behaviour results in the stereotyping of its behavioural set and its eventual
disintegration.

129
PART I: Cultural Systems - Introduction

For the purposes of this paper, the following basic operational


definition of culture is proposed, namely that:
Culture is a recognisable uniformity or similarity of behaviour or
material artefact, which can be identified within a given geographical or
discursive domain.
Culture in this sense is a collective phenomenon defined by the
regularities of behaviour found amongst the activities of the many individual
agents who make up a society. As the phenomenal expression of society
(which itself is a set of relations between many individuals), culture may be
regarded as a constellation of domains of activity such as art, science, social
customs, religious and political organisation and so on. Within each of these
domains or Cultural Systems as they will now be called, systemic activity is
continuously centred on the representation or modelling of the prevailing
state of social relations with forms characteristic to the cultural system itself -
its particular behaviour or medium of expression. The boundaries of a
cultural system are defined by the medium of exchange or communication
used within it. From the communicational perspective offered in this paper,
the terms, ‘representation’, ‘modelling’ and ‘behaviour’ are synonymous.
They are used to describe the continuous production of coherent and reliable
maps of the system’s environment that will serve as constraints on its future
behaviour. At the level of the individual agent, the nature of this activity is
the production of characteristic forms that seek to represent the environment
as it is reflected at particular times and in particular places. At the collective
level, the result of this activity is the production of typical models of the
environment, which are expressed as an observable uniformity of behaviour
in the agents of the system. Based on the definitions of culture above, the
following propositions are put forward:

1. Uniformity of behaviour as a product of Social Organisation


The multitude of forms produced by the individuals who act within a
cultural system are not infinitely diverse in character but can be grouped into
sets of more or less probable forms of behaviour. There are, in other words,
collective similarities of expression, which seem to arise out of a multitude of
individual actions. Without recognising the regularities, which inform social
130
behaviour in this way, it would be impossible to speak of culture or society at
all. There is always some degree of uniformity of behaviour within each
cultural system. That is, while at the individual level of activity there may be
a large number of possible ways of doing the same thing, at the collective
level one can note that behaviour is always constrained around a limited
number of seemingly preferred options. These uniformities of behaviour can
be regarded as the defining characteristic of social organisation and its
cultural expression as form. The terms usually used to denote collective
cultural phenomena within different cultural systems include styles, fashions,
types, paradigms, customs, genres, stereotypes, theories, ideologies, belief
systems, and so on.

2. Cultural systems as networks of communication and exchange


The dynamic nature of cultural systems arises through the continuous
production of individual works or forms of behaviour. These are produced by
individual selection of elements from a repertoire of previously-produced
statements and combining them to represent or model current social or
institutional relations which exist within a particular context or environment.
The similarity of behaviour between many of these individual works is a
product of the self-organization of social and cultural phenomena which
inevitably arises in the communication between the agents of a system and
their mutual exchange of experience within a closed or clearly defined
environment. (1). Self-organization involves the integration of diverse or
seemingly random experiences into a set of typical or generic behavioural
routines by a process of selection and combination (exchange) of the most
similar or recurrent behaviours already existing within the cultural system.
These learned routines are stored in the behaviour and artefacts produced by a
society and define its particular identity. This exchange or bonding of (parts
of) random behaviours through communication is analogous to the
autocatalytic processes described by Kauffman for the origin of living
systems and to the consequent entrainment which allows the build-up of self-
sustaining sets.(Kauffman 1995) Circumstantial or context-specific
behaviours are cancelled in favour of the generic similarities of form which
exist throughout the antecedent system. The collective routines so formed
provide a more economic and reliable means of modelling diverse experience
with minimum necessary trial and error action to achieve a desired result.

131
These are context-free single routines which can handle diverse problems.
The formation of these cultural paradigms, their number and relative
prevalence depends on the degree of connectivity within the system. That is,
the numerical possibility of exchanges taking place between some or all of its
agents. (Kaufmann 1995). Within an initially random behavioural set, the
result is the formation of attractors which act as stable yet dynamic areas of
probability within the system as a whole. (Gleick 1987, Waldrop 1992)
It is out of this network of mutual exchanges defined by the number
and connectivity of agents within a system that cultural paradigms emerge as
representative models of collective experience and behaviour. The paradigm
acts as the collective memory of the system and is written out and retained in
the in the uniformity of behaviour and material artefact which characterise
the products of the cultural system. In effect, the paradigm is a collective
classification of experience in terms of its probability or statistical
prevalence. The generation of the class or group as a discrete category points
to the essentially classificatory and digital nature of cultural processes where
a variety of experiences can be represented by single behavioural routine. The
elimination of circumstantial or context-specific forms allows us to suggest
that the cultural paradigm is a digital representation of analogue experience
(the referent system) and can be understood as a secondary level of learning
by the system. (Bateson 1978, Wilden 1982)

3. There are always a number of cultural paradigms


in existence within a system during different periods of its history.
The history of any cultural system shows that in some periods there are
several different and equally-valid sets of behavioural routines in existence
for handling the same type of representational problems. That is, that there
are several different possible answers for any given problem. In other periods
there is the emergence of a single dominant routine within the system which
is deemed capable of representing many different problems with a single
behavioural set. One can refer to the dominant paradigm of a particular
period as that set of elements which links together the largest group of
individual works within the system. It is this set which is used by most agents
to model specific social or institutional relations which exist outside the
system itself, in its environment - the constellation of other cultural systems
which coexist within a society. In this sense each cultural system through the

132
collective activity of its agents seeks to represent the relations which exist
within and between the other systems which surround it. That is, in a co-
evolutionary sense it adapts (optimizes) its behaviour to the organizational
state of those other systems. The number and relative dominance of the
various paradigms that exist within a cultural system at any given time may
therefore be seen as a function of its internal connectivity constrained by the
state of the environment which it seeks to model. That is, an environment
which can be described in ecological terms as the diversity or coordination of
the relations between a constellation of different systems. While this might
vary during the history of a system, there is never a period when there is
either only a single paradigm in existence – one answer to all problems - or,
when there are an infinite number of answers for a limited number of
problems.

4. The Evolution of the Cultural System Towards a Meta-System State


Theoretically, the result of these cultural processes of selection and
combination means that over time and in a stable environment there are, less
classes of behaviour than there are individuals who act out that behaviour
and, more generally of course there are less classes of things than there are
things classified. In evolutionary terms, this convergence of characteristics
within the cultural system based on a selective grouping and re-grouping of
similarities and differences can be regarded as a change of organisational
state. That is, a change in the number and relations between the elements of
the system. While the number of agents acting within the system may remain
the same or even increase, there is a definite convergence in their behaviour
towards a single behavioural style. While the number of individual works
produced may stay the same or increase, they become increasingly similar to
one another in the sense that their components now seem to be selected from
a single and very specific stylistic set. The results of this convergence in the
sciences, for instance would be that a single unifying theory would replace
several competing theories as an explanation for physical phenomena while
in architecture for instance, a dominant style would emerge such as
Classicism or Modernism or in terms of religious belief this process would
produce a shift from polytheism to monotheism. (2) This greater uniformity
of behaviour and material artefact indicates that a dominant paradigm has

133
emerged out of the several behavioural routines of the previous
organisational state.
The emergence of a dominant paradigm within a particular cultural
system may be defined as the formation of a meta-system.

PART II: The Meta-System

Based on what has been proposed above, an operational definition of a


meta-system would be: the formation of a single behavioural set out of a
larger number of actual and diverse behaviours which existed in the
antecedent system. That is, the emergence of a tertiary level of organisation,
control and learning within the system. (Prigogine and Stengers, 1980,
Wilden 1982) The first being the aggregate of individual works which
represent specific social or institutional contexts. The second being the
paradigms which reflect selected characteristics of groups of those works and
the third being that of the meta-system itself. While each paradigm represents
the cumulative experience of many individual acts of selection and
combination, the meta-system represents the cumulative experience and
essential characteristics of the several paradigms that existed in the
antecedent state. The same systemic processes which brought about the
formation of the initial group of paradigms will also produce the meta-system
state by a selective classification and re-classification of the characteristics of
those different paradigms. While individual paradigms reflect the experience
of different groups of agents or constituencies within the cultural system and
remain to that extent context-sensitive, the meta-system theoretically reflects
the experience of the cultural system as a whole and is therefore, to all intents
context-free. Its typical forms can be used to model theoretically any context.
The formation of paradigms and ultimately of the meta-system state
itself is therefore essentially recursive in that the same set of formative rules –
mutual exchange through selection and combination - is applied to products
produced by those rules. The output of one operation becomes the input of
the next. The seemingly random behaviour of an aggregate of individuals
within a system is transformed through communication and exchange into a
group of paradigms which in a stable environment are themselves integrated
into a single dominant paradigm through the continuous action of the same

134
algorithmic process: collective selection and recombination of existing forms
of behaviour.
The concrete reality of the emergence of a meta-system is that it
produces a decisive convergence of characteristics in products and behaviour
throughout the cultural system. Based on the preceding arguments we may
make the following propositions:

1. The meta-system is a single behavioural set abstracted


from the diversity of behavioural sets of its constituent systems
The various paradigms in the antecedent state can be regarded as self-
contained systems relative to the emergent meta-system. Through
communication and exchange between many individuals, the most probable
or recurrent characteristics of these constituent or antecedent paradigms are
assimilated into the meta-System state. The various elements of these
paradigms are classified by cumulative selection and combination in terms of
their fundamental similarities and differences. The ‘almost similar’ becomes
the ‘similar’ in an essentially economic typological process where the most
representative and TYPICAL routines which underlie any circumstantial
differences become the single behavioural set which one can call the meta-
system. By definition, these circumstantial differences of form or behaviour
in individual works or constituent paradigms are a result of their adaptation to
very particular contexts. It is this contextual aspect of form that is reduced in
the process of selection and classification of the typical. The resulting meta-
system or dominant paradigm is thus able to represent a large number of
different contexts with a fewer number of more essential and context-free
elements.

2. A meta-system is the unforseen result of impartial selective processes


As collective entities, cultural systems have no conscious or intentional
aspects to their behaviour. The characteristics of the meta-systemic states
which occasionally emerge in the history of such systems do not arise as a
result of some supposedly inherent value, beauty or fitness for purpose
displayed by the dominant behavioural routine. In this sense, ideologies,
theories or belief systems, no matter how historically significant are purely
the result of the algorithmic combination and re-combination of preceding
patterns of behaviour constrained by the particular state of their environment.

135
It is these prevailing patterns or ‘attractors’, created by previous acts of
combination and re-combination which act as the raw material for the
establishment of the dominant paradigm in a cultural system. Without the
intervention of environmental constraints, however this continuous
transformation of forms would never produce stable paradigms. At random
points in time, the environment locks these systemic processes into the
production of coherent and comprehensive behavioural sequences called
meta-systems.

3. The meta-system is not an entity that is


separate from its constituent systems.
The term ‘meta-system’ does not refer to a separate system or entity
which is somehow detached from an original system. It does not exist
‘somewhere’. The term ‘meta’ identifies a relationship between two different
organisational levels of the same system. In concrete terms it defines the
name for a more integrated state of those systems. (Wilden 1982) It describes
a new level of control or co-ordination established between the different
characteristic behaviours of the constituent systems. For this reason one can
state that the meta-system is not a ‘thing’, but an evolving relation between a
group of systems in close and continuous communication with one another. It
is an organisational state. If we want to 'see' the meta-system, we must look at
the similarities of form which increasingly exist between the constituent
systems. The meta-system is the ‘name’ for the collective characteristics of a
number of sub-systems (paradigms) that are linked by changing
environmental conditions – increased connectivity - into a coherent network
of exchange. It describes the results of that exchange, namely the increasing
similarities between those systems and the emergence of a single behavioural
template through which their diverse experiences can be effectively and more
economically modelled.

4. The emergence of a meta-system as a historical event


In historical terms the emergence of a meta-system would be recog-
nised as the establishment of unified systems of thought and behaviour. Its
full significance would be realised in terms of its comparison with the di-
versity of theory and practice which existed in the previous historical pe-
riod. It would be regarded as a major Event in the history of the system. In

136
historical terms the communication and exchange processes which would
bring about integration of behaviour would be, for instance, trade, war,
travel, intellectual and cultural exchanges of various kinds and the ex-
change of ideas and technologies through books and other communications
media. (3) The actual degree of integration achieved at any time is depend-
ent on the previous state of the system. For instance, in the history of reli-
gious systems, the result of communication and exchange processes (cumu-
lative selection) acting on a pantheistic religious system would produce
polytheism. The same processes acting on the polytheistic system would
produce the emergence of a monotheistic religion where a single deity can
represent the whole of creation. It is also worth noting that in both panthe-
ism and polytheism, the spirits or deities are derived from particular con-
texts, locations or tribal histories. Monotheistic religions are essentially
context free and thus generalizable across different societies. The principle
being that the process of integration strips form of its contextual character-
istics by eliminating circumstantial or locally-produced variations. Only the
most typical elements remain.

5. In communicational terms the Meta-System is a code


The meta-system may be described as a code in terms of its
communicational role and its organisational properties. The individual work
may be seen as a message or report about the state of relations in a particular
context. At one level, the code may simply be regarded as the statistical
regularities that inform an ensemble of such messages. At another level it can
be seen as a constraint on the configuration of such messages by defining
their semantic probability in terms of those syntactic regularities. The meta-
system as code, is therefore distributed throughout the many individual
messages that are created within the cultural system. Over time, and under
selective pressure, there is less variation in the character of messages
produced. There is an increasing predominance of regularity over diversity of
expression. While the reality of the world outside the system remains as
complex and diverse as ever, the means of expressing that diversity in the
language of the system is being progressively reduced. There is a
predominance of code over message and a shift of control from system to
meta-system. With the emergence of a meta-system, the semiotic freedom of
the cultural system is reduced making it more difficult for its agents to
137
directly and flexibly represent the complexity of relations within a referent
system. The compensation for this is that the few highly-charged linguistic
elements which remain are semantically powerful and capable of
representing a wide variety of different contexts. As a compression of
experience within a cultural system, the meta-system exemplifies the process
of representation whereby a reduction in the number of elements, in this case
permissible behaviours, produces an increase in their signifying power.
(Wilden 1982, Levi Strauss 1963)

PART III: The Evolution of the Meta-system

As a dynamic system, driven by the processes of communication and


exchange between its agents and the constraints of its environment (other
systems) the meta-system itself evolves. As with the antecedent state
described previously this involves the formation of new levels of constraint
or control over behaviour within the established set. It is not necessary to
propose new processes, mechanisms or goals on the part of a cultural system
in order to explain this change of organisation and the characteristics of the
historical or cultural events which stem from such changes. On the grounds
of economy of explanation one can assume that the historical event of
divergence or convergence of behaviour arises out of the interaction of
constant systemic processes in variable environmental circumstances. Left to
themselves, selective processes would still produce change in the system, but
it would be ‘more of the same’. The emergence of a meta-system out of a
diversity of paradigms could not be accounted for simply by looking at
systemic processes. While new paradigms might emerge and others cease to
exist, the number and relations between such entities within the system would
remain the same. It is the conditions within which these processes take place
which leads to a fundamental reorganisation of the system and the emergence
or disintegration of major uniformities of behaviour such as the meta-system.
In order to examine this process and explain the further evolution of the
meta-system, an evolutionary model of the cultural system is proposed based
on the effects produced by invariant systemic processes acting in variable
environments.

138
1. The Environment of a system varies in state from period to period.
In systemic terms, the environment of a system may be defined as the
cumulative effect of all other systems each with its own behavioural and
material forms, organisational states and developmental timescales. The
variation in these factors between systems means that they are usually out of
phase with one another in the sense that the relations between them are
uncoordinated. This can be called the Plural state of the environment.
However, given the complexity of exchanges within cultural systems, at
unpredictable points in time and provoked by unforseen events such as the
‘accidental’ invention of new technologies or some radical social
reorganisation, different systems may brought into a coordinated relationship
with one another. In effect, through a process of entrainment these different
systems behave as one. This can be called an Integrated state. Environmental
change may be described as the shift or phase transition between these two
theoretical states of organisation. That is, between a chaotic state with low
dependency between one constituent system and another or a highly ordered
state where activities in one system produce a cascade of related
consequences throughout other systems. These two poles define the
parameters within which complex adaptive systems operate (Coveney and
Highfield 1991, Waldrop 1992). In concrete sociological terms, the Plural
state displays several different concentrations of socio-economic power
coexisting within a society. In the Integrated state, there is one dominant
socio-economic power co-existing with a number of less significant power
centres. (4) From the permutation of these two possible environmental states
with constant selective processes described above one can propose the
following evolutionary model of the history of a cultural system.

2. Invariant Selective processes in Plural conditions


produce an Evolutionary State
The characteristics of an Evolutionary state are: the continuous
production of different behaviours, styles, sets of forms and the production
and co-existence of several equally-valid paradigms within the same system.
Communication and exchange within this state produces a rapid mutation of
paradigms as cumulative selection 'searches for' the most probable (optimal)
elements underlying the diversity of behaviour, practices and institutions
which exist during such periods. In a sense, there are more answers than there

139
are questions. Ambiguity is the prevailing trait of the period (too many
different ways of representing the same experiences) and there is a crisis of
meaning since no one model can represent the similarities between different
experiences.

3. Invariant Selective processes in Integrated conditions


produce a Developmental or Paradigmatic State.
The same collective processes acting in a stable (integrated)
environment will produce an increasing convergence in the characteristics of
different paradigms within a single cultural system. This may be called the
Developmental or Paradigmatic phase where the interchange and
combination of elements underlying different paradigms results in this case in
the formation of a simple, global routine - the Meta-system - which can be
applied to all representational problems. The Meta-system therefore is the
syntactic response to an increasing similarity of experience in the
environment which the system must model. A similarity brought about by the
coordination of relations between different cultural systems and their
temporary, integration into a virtual single system. This coordination can be
seen in the emergence of new and more centralised institutions, During this
period, standards, canons and institutional practices are precisely defined by
de-selecting statistically-irregular practices or forms. These are marginalized
into a secondary classification. In concrete social and political terms the
establishment of uniform standards of behaviour in different fields are seen at
the time as attempts to resolve contradictions arising from the apparently
disruptive effects of new social or technological events. The result, over time,
is the emergence of the Meta-system with, semantically-speaking a few
highly-charged elements which are used across a wide range of contexts to
produce a recognisable uniformity of behaviour. This is sometimes regarded
as the ‘classical’ period in the history of a system. In systemic terms there is a
shift from the evolution of new forms of behaviour to the development and
elaboration of a single behavioural program (Bateson 1978, Waddington
1977)

140
4. Invariant Selective Processes in Continuous
Integrated Conditions produce an Involutionary State
The continuity of the Integrated state leads to ultra-stable
environmental conditions where change can only be an emphatic and
recursive application of ‘more of the same’. Yet the same systemic processes
acting within an ultra-stable environment produce entirely different and
apparently contradictory end results, namely the fragmentation of the Meta-
system itself. Cultural evolution, in other words involves different kinds of
change at different and unpredictable times. These are a product of the
system-environment ecology where variable environmental states (relations
between cultural systems) intersect invariable systemic processes at random
points in the history of a cultural system. During an Involutionary period the
quite natural tendency of the cultural system to produce uniformity (driven by
communication and exchange between its agents) is reinforced by the
effective integration of its environment into a virtual single system. (5) In
cybernetic terms this is the equivalent of positive feedback which allows an
unconstrained articulation of the most probable forms of behaviour within the
system. While in the Developmental period this process meant that the
‘almost similar became the similar’, in the Involutionary period of a system
‘the similar’ becomes ‘the identical’. In the Involutionary phase systemic
processes trapped within a highly-integrated and possibly 'immortal' socio-
economic environment subject the Meta-system itself and its uniformity to
selective re-combination. There is a tendency to integrate what is already
integrated, to clarify what is already clarified and to further articulate the
most probable elements of the classical (Developmental) paradigm.

5. The Meta-system in Crisis


The effect of Involution on a cultural system is to stereotype the
canonical elements of the meta-system - the classical paradigm - by precisely
fixing its most probable characteristics and further reducing any residual
diversity of behaviour or form. The meta-system is, in effect, bureaucratised.
With the further selective compression of the few canonical forms at their
disposal, institutions in this 'post classical' phase can no longer represent the
diversity of experiences which they are called upon to represent. It is worth
noting at this point that the uniformity of behaviour imposed by the
emergence of a meta-system does not in any way reduce the actual diversity

141
of experience that the cultural system exists to represent. This remains as
complex as ever. What has changed is the ‘linguistic’ means by which that
complexity can be modelled. The progressive reduction in the number of
permissible sub-routines within the available repertoire gradually limits the
semiotic freedom available to the agents of the system. They cannot
adequately represent the differences between similar experiences since the
permissible language is now incapable of representing what is unique and
essentially, what is improbable about those experiences. In a sense, the
increasing rigidity of the meta-system as code produces messages which all
seem to say the same thing. In this sense, the pragmatics of communication
has been reduced to the ritual behaviour of an ideology with the result that the
cultural system is thrown into crisis. It can no longer match its behavioural
strategies to actual circumstances. In ecological terms, it has backed itself
into a dead end. This is the terminal state of the meta-system.

6. The Pathological Phase and the Collapse of the Meta-system


The meta-system at this point in its history enters a reflexive stage
where the exact combination of its elements for particular circumstances is
dictated not by sets of relations in the referent system which it must represent,
but purely by its own syntactic regularities. Theoretically, the meta-system at
this point in its history has no referent system which constrains its behaviour.
It is in absolute terms context free, but in real terms it can no longer
recognize and thus appropriately model different contexts. In the extreme
conditions of the Involutionary state it can no longer refer to particular times
and particular places since its uniformity is based on the continuous
repression of contextual or circumstantial elements. For this reason in its final
stages, the meta-system begins to display pathological symptoms consistent
with the ‘double bind’ theory of learning elaborated by Bateson (1982).
These take the form of multiple images, superimposition, repetitions,
rhetorical or ritualistic gestures and self-reference as the agents of the system
attempt to find appropriately complex responses to particular circumstances
with the severely limited set of permissible forms available to them.
In institutional terms this involves an increasing division and
specialization of roles, the insertion of more intermediate levels of
organization and control and the introduction meta-rules to more precisely
define the application of the institution’s operating rules. The result is a

142
superficial complexity of behaviour which, however cannot disguise the
ultimately inarticulate state of the system at this time. There is no way that
these aggregates of highly probable and rigid forms of behaviour can be
modulated to represent the analogue complexity of particular circumstances.
The contextual elements which in the past allowed such representation are no
longer part of the repertoire. In communicational terms, this pathological
state is equivalent to schizophrenia where disparate behavioural fragments
are ‘assembled’ to meet complex social situations. (Laing 1967, Wilden
1982). The inevitable differences of form which must occur in the system
over time are now `fictitious' differences. ( Locked within an Integrated
environment they are simply ever more precise variations on the now inert
forms of the meta-system and are themselves subject to continuous
articulation). The meta-system disintegrates into variations on variations of
itself giving rise to an allegorical or ‘scholastic’ phase where a superficial
plurality of behaviours betray the existence of a singular presence at their
centre.
Since the point at which an Integrated environmental state will again
become Plural cannot be known, the process of splitting and the production
of fictitious sub-styles will continue until that kind of global change takes
place.

PART IV: The Para-System -Ambiguity and the

Production of the Marginal

The communicational and semantic crises which plague the meta-


system in its terminal stages stem from its inability to define the context of its
messages. During its Developmental phase this context-sensitive aspect of
behaviour was integral to the forms themselves. That is, they were flexible
enough represent the diversity of experience since initially at least they were
derived from the compression of this diversity into a limited though still
representative set of behaviours. With Involution, this flexibility disappears.
No amount of manipulation of the standard elements of the repertoire can
compensate for this fundamental and cumulative lack of meaning in the
dominant paradigm. Yet the inescapable function of the cultural system is to

143
authentically represent experience and this requires that the agents of the
system utilise contextual clues or determinative signs that can locate their
actions in a particular time and place. This provides the connotative
dimension of meaning that has been erased over time by cumulative selection
and allows the system to function in the possibly endless lifespan of an
Integrated environmental state. This zone of activity is the Para-system which
can be defined as a parallel universe of improbable behavioural forms which
now act as remedial devices for the inadequacies of the meta-system in its
Involutionary phase. The following propositions examine the origins and
functioning of the Para-system.

1. The Para-system is a repertoire of context dependent forms


repressed by the Meta-system in its earlier phases of Development.
The source of these secondary semantic devices lies outside the
realms of the meta-system itself in that area of behaviour which has been
progressively classified as improbable or untypical. By a principle of ex-
clusion, the meta-system establishes a singular order out of a previous di-
versity of behaviours. It does so by gradually stripping away the contextual
or circumstantial aspects of its constituent paradigms. These circumstantial
and thus context-dependent forms which cannot be incorporated within the
standard sets of behaviour are extruded into a secondary classification: the
Para-system. In terms of the meta-system these forms are unusual or acci-
dental because they refer to particular instances of behaviour and are thus
irreducable to general statements. More precisely, they cannot be integrated
with other ‘almost similar’ statements and formulated into a general rule or
classified in terms of standard practice. The meta-system emerged out of
the most recurrent practices within a group of constituent systems. The
para-system represents the residue of that emergence. It is what is ‘left
over’ when the typical or recurrent is identified by cumulative selection.
Since the complexity of communication and exchange involves the con-
tinuous production of improbable statements, the emergence of the meta-
system automatically brings about the establishment of a para-system. In
the earlier stages of these developments, the role of the para-system is
minimal since the meta-system is at that point a flexible instrument of rep-
resentation. With the advent of an Involutionary phase however, the para-
system takes on an increasing significance in the pragmatics of communi-

144
cation. (Laing 1967) It provides a repertoire of contextual sub-routines
which identify the meaning of actions ‘in this place and this time’. (6)

2. The Para-system is the Entropy produced


by the Establishment of a Meta-system
The emergence and maintenance of cultural systems involves a
continual definition of the standard case, the style, paradigm or norm. That is,
the order of things which arises when the random event is excluded from the
synthesis of experience which the cultural system or institution represents. In
order to produce order and to establish its very existence as a repertoire of
probable or permissible behaviours, the cultural system, of whatever kind
must exclude the non-typical. Indeed a possible definition of ‘system’ or
‘organisation’ is: the set of typical behaviours for a particular discipline or
activity. At its simplest, in order to create organisation in the form of risk-free
routines and behavioural templates one must exclude disorganisation which
by definition involves the undifferentiated or unclassifiable forms of
experience. Those that are 'almost this' or 'almost that'. In other words, those
groups that cannot be precisely named. (Levi Strauss 1979) The system in its
most classical phase - dissipates the marginal and the ambiguous and in doing
so clarifies the standard forms within its boundaries. In a linguistic sense - the
cultural system 'clears the space' between words of its own language, thus
making communication - the shared/transmissible experience - possible by
removing the ambiguity which would confuse meaning. In cultural terms,
therefore, ambiguity and the marginal are the 'dissipated heat' of the system -
the entropy or disorganisation which is ejected from the emergent order of
cultural and social systems (Prigogine and Stengers 1980)

3. The Communicational Functions of the Para-system


In communicational terms, ‘noise’ is unclassifiable information and
ambiguity can be defined as the systemic noise of the processes of
communication and exchange which drive the cultural system. Ambiguity in
this sense can be regarded as an inevitable product of the multiple exchanges
which take place within the system as its elements are combined and
recombined to model an infinite number of different contexts. In terms of the
prevailing meta-system, many of these combinations will be highly
improbable due to the complexity of relations which they seek to represent.

145
However, during the Involutionary phase, the definition of what is ‘probable’
becomes much more rigid. By this stage the virtual set of elements which
make up the code is much too precisely defined to allow for any contextual
adaptations (ambiguity) of its forms. In a sense nothing is permissible. The
production of meaning is increasingly displaced into peripheral or marginal
categories as the meta-system in its final stages substitutes syntactic clarity
for semantic flexibility. (Wilden 1982) There is an increasingly obvious split
between the ritual and pragmatic aspects of behaviour. In order to accurately
model a particular context with the inert forms of the meta-system,
individuals must now use the forms of the para-system as a secondary
language which can contextualise the general truths of the meta-system. That
is, to make it speak of particular things. This, in artistic terms, involves the
use of decorative devices which provide the classical forms with associative
or connotative meaning. The most obvious example of this is the Baroque
phase of the Classical paradigm.
The same remedial devices may be found in the history of science, for
instance, in the employment of ‘numerous mathematical devices -
deferments, major and minor epicycles, equants and eccentrics’ in an attempt
to protect the geocentric theory in astronomy from the contradictory results
arising from new astronomical observations. Thus, before its final collapse in
the sixteenth century, the original geometric purity of the model had become
enmeshed in a multitude of corrective and essentially decorative
mathematical devices which sought to maintain its predictive value. (Tarnas
1991)

4. The End of the Meta-system and the Triumph of the Marginal


In seeking to represent all possible contexts with a single precise
formula, the meta-system succeeds in representing none of them in particular.
The fluid and diverse forms of the para-system provide a spurious although
effective compensation for this overwhelming uniformity. However, the
continuity of integrated environmental conditions mean an increasing
tendency to resort to para-systemic forms in order to represent anything. The
systemic drive for syntactic clarity ends in a state of total ambiguity. The
meta-system collapses under a welter of decorative and contextual forms in
the attempt to confirm the authenticity of its routines. In psychological terms,
this can be seen as a ‘return of the repressed’ where the diversity of behaviour

146
extruded from the repertoire with the emergence of the meta-system is now
the dominant feature of the late Involutionary period. Quite simply these
residual forms are now re-cycled to allow the meta-system to function at all.
Theoretically, there is no limit to this permutation of contextual and canonical
elements which can be used to represent the environment of the cultural
system. The duration of the Involutionary period is unpredictable since it is
determined by forces external to the cultural system itself - the state of its
environment. The subsidiary formal mechanism of decoration ‘portable
context’ will allow the Type to continue to function for as long as it necessary
until the break up of the highly integrated state and the consequent dispersal
of socio-economic power defines the end of an evolutionary cycle in the
history of the cultural system. The multiplying networks of power which
arise beside the highly-centralized institutions of the integrated state do not
introduce new forms of behaviour. What they do is to reinforce the
disintegration of the prevailing meta-system. They speed up its fragmentation
into multiple variations of itself. In this way, the Involutionary phase of
cultural system merges smoothly into the full diversity of forms apparent in a
new Evolutionary period of the cultural system.

PART V: Conclusion

The theory of cultural evolution proposed above takes as one of its


constraints that the phenomena being discussed should be observable. This
includes the processes by which the individuals who act within the system
select and combine the various formal elements within their system and the
cumulative results of those actions. The theory excludes any teleological
behaviour on the part of the system which is treated as a set of impartial
ecological processes. Equally, while the theory is based on the activities of
many motivated individuals, the system itself - a collective phenomenon -
lacks any conscious or intentional aspect. In a truly evolutionary sense, the
paradigms which arise and the developmental trajectories through which they
travel are the unforeseen results of a multitude of human actions and the self-
organization of the system which ensues from their mutual interaction. Nor
is there any need to posit the existence of entities or processes below the level
of the individual selection-combination activity in order to identify and

147
describe the evolutionary process. Below that level one is no longer speaking
of culture at all, but rather biology, chemistry or physics. Culture, written out
in the observable uniformities of behaviour which emerge in all fields of
human activity is a macroscopic phenomenon. It is not reducible to sub-
individual levels since it is based fundamentally on communication between
many individuals. It is this which produces the paradigms which collectively
we define as culture. The paper proposes that it is essentially
communicational processes which establish and transform cultural
phenomena -- those similarities of behaviour which organise human society.

Notes:
1. The system is ‘closed’ only in the sense that the boundaries of the system are defined
by the nature of the medium being used within it. It remains open to information from
its environment.
2. Note the same process of reduction of ‘random forms’ over time tending towards a
generic form in the evolution of technology and of economics discussed by Brian
Arthur and Stuart Kauffman in Waldrop’s book (1992)
3. Steven Pinker discusses an interesting example of the integration of diverse constituent
systems into a single coherent language in his book, The Language Instinct (1995). He
notes the formation of a fully-grammatical creole language out of the communication
and exchange between pidgin speakers. The same process also seems to apply in the
formation of sign languages.
4. An example of Plural socioeconomic conditions would be the rise of a large
entrepreneurial and middle class after the Industrial Revolution. Integrated states can
be seen in societies where power is concentrated in monarchies, a landowning class or
in more extreme cases, a theocracy.
5. The 19th and early 20th century in Britain epitomises in a single period the phase
transitions from Involutionary to Evolutionary to Developmental socio-cultural states.
From the beginning of the century these can be exemplified by the initial dominance
of a monarchy and a landowning class through the diversity of mercantile capitalism to
the more Integrated conditions represented by Corporate Capitalism and the power of
central government. In the latter case this was reinforced by the need to organize war
economies.
6. There are considerable parallels here between the function of contextual clues and
determinative signs which arise in the Involutionary state of a system and the ‘false
self’ suggested by Laing for schizophrenic behaviour. In both cases a secondary
system of signs is used to maintain communication by providing context-specific
information to a set of stereotyped and rigid behavioural forms. We may also note a
false pluralism of behaviour which may define postmodern ideologies.

148
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Badcock, C.R. 1975. Structuralism and Sociological Theory. London: Hutchison.
Bateson, G. 1978. Steps to an Ecology of Mind. London: Granada.
Calvin, W.H. 1996. How Brains think. London: Phoenix.
Casti, J. 1996. Paradigms Lost. London: Abacus.
Chomsky, N. 1979. Reflections on Language. London: Fontana.
Coveney, P. and R.Highfield 1991. The Frontiers of Complexity. New York: Harper
Collins.
Dawkins, R. 1991. The Blind Watchmaker. London: Penquin.
Dennett, D. 1996. Darwin’s Dangerous Idea. London: Penquin.
Eldridge, N. 1996. Reinventing Darwin. London: Phoenix.
Gell-Mann, M. 1994. The Quark and the Jaguar. London: Abacus.
Gleick, J. 1987. Chaos. London: Abacus.
Kauffman, S. 1995. At home in the Universe. London: Penquin.
Kuhn, T. 1970. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press.
Laing, R.D. 1967. The Divided Self. London: Tavistok.
Levi Strauss, C. 1968. Structural Anthropology. London: Peregrine.
Lewin, R. 1992. Complexity. New York: Macmillan.
Pinker, S. 1995. The Language Instinct. London: Penquin.
Prigogine, I and I.Stengers 1980. Order out of Chaos. New York: Harper Collins.
Tarnas, R. 1991. The Passion of the Western Mind. New York: Ballantine.
Waddington, C.H. 1977. Tools for Thought. St. Albans: Granada.
Waldrop, M.M. 1992. Complexity. Nwe York: Simon and Schuster.
Wilden, A. 1982. System and Structure. London: Tavistock.

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6

EAST AND WEST IN HISTORY


A Short Abstract

Leonid S. Vasiliev

The real historical process has its origin as far back as the time of the
sapiens (about 40,000 years ago). Sapient populations differed considerably
from presapiens and other neanderthaloids because Homo Sapiens was
quite new and perfected homo. That is why sapiens spread over Eurasia and
other regions very quickly. Sapient peoples create their new culture, which
was a social one. As professor C.Levy-Strauss believed, their local groups
exchanged women and that form of the gift (about the gift as an important
form of human communications see: Mauss 1970) became the fundament
of human culture. The general principle of that early culture was reciproc-
ity.
The idea of reciprocity and its primary role in the regulation of hu-
man relations has been elaborated by a number of anthropologists, and es-
pecially by K. Polanyi (1968). The essence of that idea was a custom, and
even a duty to exchange nearly all that everyone may have. First of all eve-
ryone was obliged to exchange meals because without that the group with
its women, children and aged people had no chance to survive. But the
people and first of all the men-hunters were not equal. The "best" of them
got more of the livelihood than others. They gave much food to others in
their group. But the group as a rule could not return to them the material
equivalent. In this way there arose a new form of equivalence - prestige.
Prestige of the respected hunter in his group was valued highly. Those who
had it could be elected leaders of the group. The leader had some privi-
leges. First, he may have more than one woman (the family in group as a
rule was nuclear, but not firm: husband and wife may dissolve their mar-
riage easily and each of them usually did it many times; children up to the
certain age were with their mother).
150
The end of Paleolithic age was marked by some new elements.
Steppe regions (North Africa, parts of Near East, Central Asia and the Far
East) were very favorable for hunting and gathering. That is why those who
lived there could obtain much food, and experienced the conditions neces-
sary for experimentation. They obtained some new microlithic tools, bows
with arrows and even domesticated dogs. With these means of hunting,
their new mesolithic population became the most advanced. And it was
these who began the neolithic revolution.
The essence of that revolution was a transition from an appropriating
economy to a productive economy. The domestication of certain plants (es-
pecially cereals) and animals, a settled way of life, ceramics, spinning and
weaving, many well-manufactured stone tools and at last bronze - this was
the complex of great discoveries which gave birth to the real revolution. It
must be said that the phenomenon of great discoveries is a very provocative
one. The greatest discoveries in ancient times (in our times also however)
were not numerous but rather rare and unique. But such a complex of major
discoveries - this is something nearly incredible. This is why specialists
reasonably believe usually humanity would make such discoveries (and es-
pecially the more complex of them) only once. The secondary investiga-
tions, even inventions may be doubled in distinct regions depending on
conditions of life. But this was never the case with the great discoveries.
They were unique and became known everywhere only owing to mass mi-
grations of neolithic peasants or to diffusion of their culture. It may be that
the only exception to this rule is when there was no way for migrating peo-
ples to carry the new knowledge with them (the neolithic revolution in
America was more modest and not the same as in the other world).
The Neolithic revolution radically changed not only the economy but
the whole style of life of the people. The settled life of small countries,
with their good houses, nearby fields, domesticated animals, granaries and
so on created conditions for a quiet existence. Some guarantee against hun-
ger appeared. All of these innovations were favorable for rapid population
growth. Each generation of inhabitants of the villages nearly doubled and
there were no good places for new fields and animals. That is why every
two dozen or so years the young people of those villages migrated. The
process of such migrations became more massive and complicated from
generation to generation.

151
At first neolithic migrants went down from the hills (Anatolia, Za-
gros, Palestine, where mesolithic groups began the neolithic revolution),
then new waves of migrants opened up lands in the valleys of the great riv-
ers (the Nile, the Tigris, the Euphrates and so on). After this additional new
waves of different neolithic peoples began to occupy all the territories
which were good for agriculture. In some thousand years nearly all the con-
tinents (except America and Australia) were occupied by neolithic peoples
who pushed aside the paleolithic groups, condemning them to stagnation
and extinction.
One of the greatest and most important consequences of the neolithic
revolution was the possibility of having plentiful food and other products.
That surplus might be used for supporting those who did not themselves
work every day in food production. Under such circumstances, neolithic
villages might have leaders who were busy (at first only part-time) in the
sphere of administration. The necessity of having such leaders was deter-
mined by the structure of villages and their typical communities.
A village of peasants was not like local groups of a Paleolithic popu-
lation. Each village usually consisted of some big families, family-clan
groups. Those groups as a rule have a father-patriarch with his wives, chil-
dren, wives of his sons, their children and sometimes alien outsiders. Each
family members had his or her own place in it, which nobody could
change. There was no election of leaders. The leader of a family was its fa-
ther up to his death. And as a family group had its complicated household
economy, the father became the leader and small administrator for it. His
social position would be the highest among members of his big family (see:
Sahlins 1968:17, 64,75-80). He was in command, he was responsible for
good use of family resources. And he was the general redistributor of the
family property.
Modern economic anthropologists - and most especially K. Polanyi -
believe that in non-egalitarian societies (societies with stratification as fam-
ily-clan groups in villages) redistribution was a very important social and
economic institution. By using it a patriarch could have his own profit and
privileges, he could obtain prestige among the other leaders in the village.
Usually this was attained by the generous giving out of nearly all of the
family animals and sometimes other property during any family or village
ceremony. According to the general principle of reciprocity gifts require

152
the equivalent in return. But not all of those who received a gift would be
able to give one in return, and sometimes returned only a quarter
(Herskovitz 1952:169-172). As a result, the redistributor of the family
property obtains not only his own great prestige but also clients who were
now obliged to support him. This support is very important during the elec-
tion of the leader of community village.
The head of a rural community is more of a village administrator
than a father of his own family. The rivalry among them in favorable cir-
cumstances was the last argument during a struggle for the power of being
the leader of a primitive political structure, the chiefdom. The favorable
circumstances for the appearance of primary (most ancient) chiefdoms in,
for example, the Nile valley were first of all good ecological conditions,
developing production up to urbanism, optimum demography and rivalry
among neighboring communities leaders.
The term chiefdom was offered by E. Service who at first included it
in his hierarchy of stages of evolution together with the tribe (band-tribe-
chiefdom-state (1962)), but later identified the chiefdom and the tribe
(1975). I believe it was owing to the work of M. Fried who suggested using
the term tribe to designate the growing amorphous ethnic communities
(many neighboring villages as a result of elementary budding off from the
oldest rural community) with their mutual segmentation and diminishing
ethnic solidarity.
A tribe must have its chief, so it is a chiefdom - that was the new
word of M. Fried (1975). Tribalization is process of making new chiefdoms
under the influence of the first urbanized ones. The chief in a tribe and es-
pecially in the urbanized chiefdom is not the same as a community leader.
As a rule he is a great person, who has not only much prestige, but real
power. He and his large family and assistants had real administrative power
and were the general redistributors of the common surplus and possibly
other products of the chiefdom. The chief became a sacral ruler and after
his death the new chief was elected as a rule from his relatives. Later the
so-called conic clan formed whose norms regulated the principle of inheri-
tance of the supreme power.
A sacral ruler with his supreme power became the center of a politi-
cal and economical structure which did not know of private property. The
real power and the place in an administrative system gave to this minority

153
the chance not only to rule over the chiefdom (later the early and even great
state), but to organize much of the economy and to redistribute what was
produced, first of all surplus products. It was a Power-Property phenome-
non (for more detail see: Vasiliev 1982, 1983): the supreme power offered
the possibility and even duty to be the supreme man (or men) of property
and redistribution. That phenomenon is an essential feature of all non-
European societies in history.
In spite the fact that limited private property later arose - limited not
in scale but in low and real possibilities, compared to the mighty state ad-
ministration - all non-European states (including even the societies of pre-
Colombian America) had that Power-Property System. Many still do to
day. It may take varied forms, up to communist ones. But the main thing
everywhere was the same: private property must be under the supreme
power of administration. And administrators as a rule did not like proprie-
tors because each of them became rich at the expense of surplus product -
that very product which should have been the object of redistribution by the
administration in the interest of the State, first of all the administrative mi-
nority.
The Oriental Power-Property System formed over a period of thou-
sands of years of the early historical process. That is why it was very strong
and adaptable. Peoples and states went away, new ones took their places,
but the System as such did not change. The dynamics of the historic proc-
ess in the East (most ancient prehistorical, ancient, medieval East up to pe-
riod of colonialism) manifested itself in the form of cycles: periods of cen-
tralization yielded ages of decentralization and even feudalization. It is re-
markable that neither feudalization nor the fall of mighty states or the inva-
sion of barbaric nomads could bring about a new style of life. Nobody
wanted to, and nobody could change the traditional norms of existence,
everybody wanted conservative stability. But why it was so?
Firstly, there was mutual consensus between the administrative mi-
nority and peasant productive majority: the first governed, the second was
patronized. As to private proprietors, they had no rights and privileges and
no means to defend their interests. And at the times of crisis only the state
administration could patronize them and defend their property from hungry
peasant insurgents. No wonder proprietors also (most of all) wanted con-
servative stability. Secondly (last but not least!) there was mighty religious,

154
moral and cultural traditions which could control any dangerous situation.
Such were the ancient religious systems of Egypt, Mesopotamia or South
pre- Colombia America. This was also true of three immortal civilizations
of the well-developed East.
The Chinese (or Far East) Confucianism-dominated zone was even a
nonreligious one. There were some religions in it (Taoism and Buddhism),
but the main role was played by the socio-ethical doctrines of Confucius
with it cults of virtue, filial piety, paternalism, continuous self-perfection
and equity in competition for obtaining places in the administration, with
its unshakable social order, and drive towards state harmony. The Confu-
cian civilization helped to develop the culture of labour and social disci-
pline of the people.
The Moslem religio-civilizational tradition was much harder. The
commandments of Quran and Shari's law were not unlike the Confucian
ceremonies as far as the shaping of one's mentality is concerned. Fatalism,
fanaticism and very often forceful proselytism (even including religious
wars) were reducing to a minimum the role of the self-determined human
being. All of them were a sand grain in the hands of omnipotent Allah and
His representatives. Hence, Oriental despotism with all its absolute power
so apparent in Moslem countries.
The Hindu-Buddhist tradition-civilization with its out-world orienta-
tion produced a state wherein power and administration were least notice-
able, whereas many regulating functions (especially in caste-structured In-
dia) were performed by the socium. That is why decentralizing impulses
were so strong in the pre-Islamic history of India. As for the Buddhist
countries of South-East Asia, this feature was absent. So states in the pre-
Islamic history of that zone were stronger. Nevertheless the social orienta-
tion with its out-world preferences played a great role in the style of life.
Distinctions among the civilizations of the countries of the East had
always been easily noticeable and in many ways essential. But what made
them look virtually the same was the rigidity of their structure and the sta-
bility of the traditional style of life. The situation changed only with the
coming of colonialism. And here we come to Europe as a symbol of East-
West opposition.
The European way of development differed entirely from the rest of
the world. Most ancient Europe (up to times of Homer's poems) was the

155
same as other areas of the Eastern world. But approximately from VII cen-
tury B.C. appeared the new polis-type civilization. It was something like a
social mutation, a great structural revolution which we may compare to
neolithic revolution.
The earliest Greek polis were self-governed, civic and community-
like city-states in many of which there were republican bodies of power
elected from among full-fledged citizens on a fairly democratic basis. From
the very beginning, the commodity production and trade oriented economy
of the small city-states (which didn't know oriental principles of the Power-
Property System and centralized redistribution)created the new system of
political, legal and other institutions. Those institutions guaranteed the full
domination of the promotion of private enterprise and free marked relations
which continued to be absent outside the Hellenic World. And though de-
mocracy and the republic weren't omnipotent in Greece and Rome, those
institutions played a remarkable and even determinative role in the desti-
nies of Europe. They became the foundations for a European civic society
and law abiding state, the principle of human rights and freedoms (all this,
however, doesn't excluded restricted citizenship and slavery).
As is known, the German (non-European, Oriental) tribes started
anew their path to civilization on the debris of ancient Rome. But the Ger-
man and other tribes which occupied Europe, absorbed Christianity and
some important elements of antiquity. That legacy especially in economy
and institutions found its reflection in the phenomenon of a European feu-
dal city. Those cities, city-unions and republics (Venice, Florence, Han-
seatic towns, etc.) were preserving and further developing the market and
private enterprise mechanism which so obviously distinguished European
structure from the non-European.
In pre-colonialist times this distinction was insuperable. There were
some historical experiments (the first - period of Hellenisation of the Near
East after Alexander the Great conquest; the second - orientalization of
Byzantium in the medieval age) which indicate the invincibility of the
Eastern structure. Only the German and other barbarian kingdom which ab-
sorbed antique institutes and Christianity became Europeans. We may say
that in Europe some non-European tribes could become the Europeans. But
outside, the Oriental tradition was too strong.

156
That situation changed after the cardinal processes of the Renais-
sance, the Reformation (which produced the phenomenon of Protestantism)
and the Great Geographic Discoveries, when some feudal European states
transformed the Hellenic legacy into pre-capitalism. After that transforma-
tion the new-European history became quite different. Having been com-
pletely orientated toward the market, private enterprise, proper legal and
other institutions, including Christianity, Europeans began their great im-
pact on the East. The conquest of America gave them some trial, but not
much. American gold and silver played a much more important role.
The fact is that the first stage of colonialism – XVI-XVIII centuries -
was predominantly the trade expansion of Western capital accompanied by
the slave trade, particularly in Africa. The Portuguese with their American
gold and silver were the first wave of colonialists who opened up new
(Eastern) territories, created trading stations there and began the colonial
trade. But they only began the trade! That is why the rich Oriental countries
with rare exceptions (plantations on spice-rich islands) structurally re-
mained as they were before. Some of them even made a profit. But never-
theless the Oriental tradition during the Portuguese wave of trade colonial-
ism experienced its first serious cracks. The Portuguese in XVII-XVIII cen-
turies were taken up by the Dutch and the English who broadened the colo-
nial trade very much. The cracks became much more serious. It must be
remarked that trade colonialism was now sometimes accompanied by terri-
torial annexations especially in those countries (South America, Africa, In-
dia, Indonesia) which did not have strong states.
From the beginning of the XIX century the first stage of colonialism
was replaced by the second with its active industrial expansion and mili-
tary-political action that had made many independent Oriental countries
into colonies. The great pressure of industrial products and the power poli-
tics of Eurocapitalism questioned the vitality of the traditional structure and
way of life. The free market was imposed on the East with legally protected
and privileged private enterprise. The traditional structure with its Power-
Property system and centralized redistribution, with its inflexible bureauc-
racy and inefficient economy couldn't oppose colonialism. The Eastern
peoples were not glad to see that process and many of them wanted to re-
sist. European revolutionaries of the radical trend, including Marx and
Lenin, seriously hoped for that. But their hopes were not justified.

157
The phenomenon of the awakening of Asia in the early XX century
signified that some Eastern Empires (China, Turkey) under European influ-
ence became republics. But this fact should not be exaggerated. The tradi-
tional East's response to the aggressive colonial-capitalist drive of the West
was a complex mixture of involuntary adaptation and energetic resistance
having behind it all the power of the age-old traditional values. And es-
sence of that response in many respects depended on the civilization. The
Far Eastern (Confucian) one with its high degree of adaptation gave the
best result, first of all in Japan. The Hindu-Buddhist with its passiveness
also could be adapted to the new norm, though not so easily (India, Indone-
sia, part of Indo-China). The strongest resistance demonstrated was the
Moslem one. Only a very long process of forcible adaptation under the
pressure of capitalism could give some positive result (Turkey, Egypt, and
Pakistan). The great part of Islamic world, especially Arabian and Iranian,
does not accept the Europeans and their way of life even today.
Here we must refer to the phenomenon of colonialism as such.
Scholars belonging to the schools of radical historiography have a rather
negative attitude toward colonialism, and most ideologists of the develop-
ing world believe it to have been the source of virtually all the misfortunes
suffered by non-European countries. But everybody must understand that
without European colonial expansion the East as a whole, Japan included,
would have remained at a XV-th century level. Everybody may discuss is it
as good or bad and I propose to return to that question. Nevertheless it is
obvious that all that is new and contemporary in today East has come from
Europe, as a result of Westernization of the East. However that may be, just
colonialism, capitalism and the process of Westernization transformed the
traditional East and drew it together with the West.
The process of decolonization began after WW-II. The colonized and
semi-colonized East found itself faced with an alternative: capitalism or
marxist socialism. As is well known the system of Marxism socialism first
of all was realized in Russia. Everybody may have a dispute but for me it is
obvious that Russia as a state and a people was more of an Eastern than a
Western country. That is why Marxist socialism became possible there. It
also became possible immediately after WW-II in some other Eastern
countries (China, Vietnam, North Korea), but not in European ones (East
Europe was occupied by the Soviet army and had no alternative) . After de-

158
colonization many of other Eastern countries especially the less developed
(first of all African ones) wanted to be socialist. Why was this so?
The answer is obvious. Marxist communism with its command- ad-
ministrative-redistributive system was a copy of the traditional East. It was
a new and rather modified copy, with developed industry (especially mili-
tary), science, specific ideology and political might. The ruling chain of
administration, organized in a state apparatus with restrictions on private
property, economic inefficiency of the state economy or non-freedom of
population down to a level of total slavery - the East was well acquainted
with all of these. If they choose capitalism it means a painful prolongation
of transformation (for the primitive African newly decolonized states -
nearly the whole process is a painful transformation). Choosing Marxist so-
cialism, Eastern countries had a chance to avoid that transformation. More-
over, they could have military aid from the USSR.
Everybody knows what was the end of socialist experiments in de-
colonized countries. Marxist socialism could not fulfill its promises or
prove its theoretical advantages in the East, or even in Europe, in the
USSR. There was an alternative - capitalism. Modern capitalism has
changed very much and skillfully resolved its basic problems. The new
capitalism of the second half of our century achieved many successes in the
social protection of its citizens. This has saved the capitalist countries from
internal crises and has given them a fresh impetus. In that situation the de-
veloping world has in most cases opted for capitalism. But that choice did
not really work either.
The difficulty lies in the fact that to develop socialism it is only nec-
essary to choose a political orientation (the rest very easily combines with
the traditional structure), whereas this will not suffice for developing capi-
talism. A nation needs a long transitional period. It must have time for
socio-psychological restructuring. And the different regions of the East are
not equally ready for it. The countries of Confucian civilization with its so-
cial harmony, self-perfection and competition are coping with that task
more easily than others. The countries of South East Asia with their great
Chinese ethnic component (the hua-chiao) are following them.
Besides, as mentioned, there are colonial or dependent countries
where the transformation with restructuring of standards was continuing
during the centuries. And they have seen some results (India, Pakistan,

159
Turkey, Egypt, partly some of the Maghreb countries). A special group is
formed by petrodollar countries (Libya, Arabian monarchies) where almost
original purity of Islam combines with supermodern industries and a re-
spective superstructure created and serviced by foreign hands.
Nevertheless the world of Islam as a whole is the most antiwestern
and anticapitalist one. The most militant purity of Islam is being demon-
strated by Iran, though it cannot do without economic exchanges with the
hated Western world (Iranian oil). Remarkably, the poorest and most
backward Moslem nations - Afghanistan, Bangladesh and some other coun-
tries - appear to be even more steadfast and militant in their desire to de-
fend their traditional life standards.
The situation is the worst in Africa South of Sahara, where many
savage local and community structures lack almost entirely any civiliza-
tional foundation of their own and are less ready for rapid transformation.
While the culture of consumption is being grafted fairly easily, the culture
of labor is not. Hence the result: politically independent countries have
emerged, a ruling elite based on an educated administration and intellectu-
als is taking shape (sometimes it includes even business people), but the
overwhelming share of the population, with the exclusion of European-
dominated areas South Africa, live in destitution and fail to sustain them-
selves.
Summing up, we can conclude that the modern East is rather multi-
faceted. Even the term developing countries is not applicable to a part of it.
Some nations (which have become rich from their oil) boast what is be-
lieved to be the highest per capita income, but that fact doesn't allow them
to be considered too developed in the proper sense of that word. Others
gradually develop and have a good opportunity to reach a some higher
level in the coming future. But these, especially the large ones (China, In-
dia, Indonesia), face a further complication: whereas an urban minority is
developing the majority are unable to achieve any positive change. With
the group of African nations that majority consists of the great part of today
Humanity. And what is more, just that poorest part of Humanity doubled
every 35-45 years.
That problem does not yield to easy decisions. Those countries
which can't provide proper nutrition for their peoples stand in need of help
from the outside, from developed countries. This can be regarded as paying

160
the historical debt of colonialism. But, firstly, that help doesn't assist the
backward peoples in their development. On the contrary, it may give birth
to a parasitic syndrome. And secondly, the rapid demographic growth of
the East and especially of backward peoples, sets before the world as a
whole the new and global problem. In a most general form it is the problem
of Man and Nature.
From the point of view of the historical process discussed herein, the
core of the problem is as follows. Industrial progress is very fast today. Ac-
cordingly, the ecological crisis grows likewise. Elementary calculations
show that the process cannot last too long. If the level of waste per person
characteristic of an industrialized country was achieved by the rest of the
world, it would be a planetary catastrophe. Something must be changed.
But what?
It is well known that the traditional East with its conservative stabil-
ity did not come in conflict with Nature. Its economy was ecologically irre-
proachable. European colonialism awoke the East and forcibly changed its
style of life. Was it good or no? From the point of view of the chance to
become more developed - yes, it was good. But it has been said that not
very many Eastern peoples had that opportunity. The greatest part of them
could not use it. But the East as a whole was transformed and its new econ-
omy and way of life came into serious conflict with Nature. From the point
of view ecology safety, the recently transformed but still mostly underde-
veloped East is a threat to Nature.
As to demographic problems, the traditional East also was in har-
mony with Nature. European civilization with its care of public wealth
transformed the demographic balance. That is why the poorest of the East-
ern peoples began doubled every 35-45 years. And no help from outside
can satisfy their growing requirements. If so, what must be changed? What
to do? One thing is clear: the growing industrial and energy activity, the
ecological crisis and the demographic pressure are the three ever growing
weighs which press down on our planet. And how long can the planet bear
that pressure? Or where does its patience end? It looks like on the eve of
XXI century we are about to reach the critical point.
Apparently, the problem of industrial contamination is the easiest to
solve. The computer revolution may give Humanity some new technologies
for that. It must be understood that the East has no money for those new

161
and rather expensive technologies. But we may suppose that the advanced
countries equipped with XXI-century technology will be able to change the
production process so that it would become harmless or zero-waste and the
backward peoples will manage to borrow the latest processes.
Possibly, the ecological crisis problem is also solvable, though eve-
rybody knows how much money that may cost. And we must admit that
this is the very same money needed to help the growing population of the
backward countries. However the problems of many are solvable in princi-
ple. But what can be done with demographic pressure?
It may appear that this is the easiest part of the three-headed Dragon
hovering over the Earth. Everything depends on people and as such costs
nothing. But the opposite is true. There are all grounds to believe that it is
most likely to be the key problem of XXI century. Specialists know that the
family size norm is a product of many centuries and cannot be changed
over-night. Even traditionally disciplined Chinese couldn't substantially
slacken the pace of population's growth. In India, the Moslem world and in
Africa the fertility problem has never been positively approached, though
much has been said and written on the subject.
To be sure, if we even suppose that the developed West in the XXI
century does its part for the complex problem (develops zero-waste tech-
nologies and cleans the planet) the growing East with the doubling of its
poorest part every 35-45 years cannot do that. Only a small part of the East
has found an advantageous synthesis to ensure optimal conditions for exis-
tence or the hope to obtain such in the nearest future. For the rest the situa-
tion is rather paradoxical: they have irreversibly lost the habitual balance in
their interaction with the Nature, while their chances of setting up a modus
vivendi in any practicable future are very negligible. The result being the
growing imbalance on a planetary scale.
But Nature hates imbalance and opposes it in its own way, be it
AIDS or the ozone hole, the threat of the hothouse effect or of the nuclear
winter. True, modern science (the Man) in its confrontation with Nature has
some victories. But what will tomorrow be like when the population dou-
bles? And after to morrow when it will double once more? As I suppose
that Nature will find new and more effective ways to stop Man with his in-
capacity to liquidate the imbalance. It may give birth to new and very ef-
fective threats to the life on Earth.

162
I do not want to claim the wreath of Cassandra and to foretell a
gloomy future. I should be very glad if my apprehensions will be in vain
and unfounded. But there are too many reasons for having them. And as an
Orientalist I must remember the situation with the modern East and its
gloomy prospects. I must be mindful of technology and of ecology prob-
lems which are connected partly with the rapid growth of the poorest part
of East and of planetary disbalance.

REFERENCES CITED
Fried, M.H. 1975. The Notion of Tribe. Menlo Park: Cummings.
Herskovitz, M.J. 1952. Economic anthropology. A Study in Comparative Economies.
New York.
Mauss, M. 1970. The Gift. Forms and Functions of Exchange in Archaic Societies.
London.
Polanyi, K. 1968. Primitive, Archaic, and Modern Economics. - Essays of K.Polanyi.
New York.
Sahlins, M.D. 1968. Tribesmen. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.
Service, E.R. 1971. Primitive Social Organization. An Evolutionary Perspective. 2nd ed.,
New York [1st ed. - 1962]: Radmon House.
Service, E.R. 1975. Origins of the State and Civilization. New York: Norton.
Vasiliev, L.S. 1982. Fenomen vlasti-sobstvennosti. K probleme tipologii dokapitalis-
ticheskikh struktur [Power-Property phenomenon. Toward the problem of typol-
ogy of precapitalist structures] - Tipy obshchestvennykh otnoshenii na Vostoke v
srednie veka. Ed. by L.B.Alaev. Moscow: 60-99.
Vasiliev, L.S. 1983. Problemy genezisa kitaiskogo gosudarstva: formirovane osnov so-
cialnoy structury i politicheskoy administratsii [Problems of genesis of the Chi-
nese state: formation of the structure and polotical administration]. Moscow:
Nauka.
Vasiliev, L.S. 1993. Istoriia Vostoka [The History of Orient]. Vol.1-2. Moscow: Vyss-
haia shkola.

163
Part Two

PREHISTORIC EVOLUTION

164
7

THOUGHTS ON THE EVOLUTION OF SOCIAL


INEQUALITY: A PARADIGMATIC ANALYSIS

Benjamin Fitzhugh

"The decision to reject one paradigm is always simultane-


ously the decision to accept another, and the judgement lead-
ing to that decision involves the comparison of both para-
digms with nature and with each other." (Kuhn 1970:77)
"Normal science can proceed without rules only so long as
the relevant scientific community accepts without question
the particular problem-solutions already achieved. Rules
should therefore become important and the characteristic un-
concern about them should vanish whenever paradigms or
models are felt to be insecure." (Kuhn 1970:42)
"Ironically, there is no poverty of theory but an undisciplined
plethora of them -- ontologies perhaps, predilections certainly
-- that clamor for attention and support in archaeology... We
are impoverished instead in the means to evaluate rigorously
competing theories against the material record and so deter-
mine which among them provide more satisfactory accounts."
(Shott 1998)

Introduction
American anthropology is in a state of theoretical crisis. Unlike most
mature scientific disciplines anthropolologists seem unable even to agree
on the structure of our discipline or the most important research questions
to ask, let alone the best way to develop theory and increase our under-
standing of the human world. How is productive research possible in such
an intellectual climate? In the early 1960's, philosopher Thomas Kuhn ar-
gued that scientific disciplines periodically pass through "revolutionary"
changes in theory (1970). According to Kuhn, these changes occur when a
dominant paradigm or theoretical framework fails to account for empirical
observations and when a better paradigm is developed. In contemporary
american anthropology (including ethnology, archaeology, biological an-

165
thropology, and linguistic anthropology), we seem to be in a perpetual state
of "revolution" with proponents of different paradigms deeply entrenched
and unable to investigate the objective merits of alternative views.
This paper seeks to challenge disciplinary entrenchment through a
logical critique of several competing paradigms. To make this problem
tractable, I will focus specifically on the issue of the social evolution of
hunter-gatherer societies and compare models from the theoretical para-
digms of cultural ecology (Steward 1955), Marxism, practice theory
(Ortner 1994), and evolutionary ecology (Smith and Winterhalder 1992a).
Because the empirical data for testing alternative models of social evolu-
tion is necessarily time transgressive, the focus of this paper is primarily
archaeological.
Following Kuhn (1970), a scientific paradigm is a logically coherent
theoretical framework that makes sense of a wide range of phenomena and
that has not yet been found empirically unsound and been replaced by bet-
ter theory. While empirical evidence is generally accepted as the ultimate
test of a theory's usefulness, paradigms are often so broad that they can
rarely be tested directly (Kuhn 1970:77). In the case of archaeology (and
american anthropology more generally) this means that the decision to
work within one of several competing paradigms is difficult and often in-
fluenced as much by loyalty to academic traditions, mentors or colleagues
as by theoretical utility.
Critical evaluation of the logical premises and assumptions of con-
flicting paradigms can highlight weaknesses of each and might even save
researchers from a career of allegiance to a potentially flawed paradigm.
Evaluation can lead to the rejection of some paradigms in favor of others and
even the synthesis of useful and logically consistent elements of competing
frameworks, which would otherwise remain antagonistic. This paper attempts
such a critical evaluation of the four paradigms listed above. These paradigms
are commonly applied to questions of social evolution by american archae-
ologists.

166
Complex Hunter-Gatherers
Archaeologists and ethnologists have been interested in social evolu-
tion for over a century but particularly in recent decades (e.g., Alekseev
1963; Ames 1981, 1985, 1994; Bender 1978, 1990; Braidwood 1952;
Childe 1950; Drennan 1991; Flannery 1972; Fried 1967; Friedman 1982;
Godelier 1978; Harpending 1980; Johnson and Earle 1987; Kirch 1984;
Kus 1981; Lesser 1952; Maschner and Patton 1996; Morgan 1964 (1877);
Randsborg 1981; Service 1962; Shennan 1993; Shnirelman 1992; Terrell
1978; Yengoyan 1991;Yoffee 1979). One popular theme in archaeological
studies of social evolution is an attempt to explain the general tendency for
increasing social and political complexity apparent in many cases around
the world. Attention to variation in the political organization of hunter-
gatherer societies such as the Florida Calusa, California Chumash, and
Alaskan Tlingit have shown that non-agricultural societies can be signifi-
cantly complex and even socially stratified (Arnold 1991, 1995, 1996; de
Laguna 1979; Emmons 1991; Fitzhugh 1996; Marquardt 1992; Widmer
1988). Little agreement has emerged, however, about how to explain the
development of these unusual social configurations from simpler antece-
dents.
Unfortunately, the development of successful explanatory models is
hindered by disagreement at the paradigm level. The purpose of this paper
is to investigate the relationship between theoretical paradigms concerning
social evolution in general and the evolution of complex hunter-gatherers
in particular. The analysis to follow compares the four paradigms of cul-
tural ecology, Marxism, practice theory and evolutionary ecology.
In Figure 1, I have classified these paradigms into a simple two di-
mensional matrix. The matrix identifies two dichotomies that mark major
divisions in anthropological explanations of cultural change. The first di-
mension, arrayed across the top separates those frameworks that give ex-
planatory priority to ecological variables and those that focus on social
variables. This divides the cultural and evolutionary ecologists from the
Marxists and practice theorists. The second dimension, on the vertical, di-
vides those most concerned with group level explanations (methodological
collectivists) and those who prefer indiviual level explanations (methodo-
logical individualists). This dichotomy groups cultural ecology and a vari-

167
ety of Marxist orientations as distinct from evolutionary ecology and prac-
tice theory.

Causality
Ecological Soci
al
Cultural Ecology Marxism
Evolution results from Evolution is the product
Groups

group adaptation to of struggles between


novel constraints in the political interest groups
external environment
Evolutionary Ecology Practice Theory
Analytical Level

Evolution is the product Evolution is product of


of the adaptive behavior human competition for
Individuals

of individuals (due to socially defined valu-


the propensity to sur- ables (e.g.. power,
vive and reproduce) prestige, wealth)
Figure 1: Causal priority and analytical level in anthropological perspectives on
social evolution

Dichotemy 1: Nature vs. Culture


The dichotomy between ecological priority and social (symbolic,
ideological) priority in the division across the top of Figure 1 reflects what
I believe is a pervasive (and dubious) dichotomy between nature (biology)
and culture (ideology) that is deeply ingrained in the history of Western
philosophy (Weingart 1997). Ecologically oriented approaches are invaria-
bly driven by the belief that evolutionary change is directed by basic bio-
logical propensities for survival and reproduction conditioned by environ-
mental contexts. Social approaches inevitably reflect a belief that human
social organization and its change is produced by symbolic cultural systems
whose existence and structure are distinct from and irreducible to biologi-
cal, reproductive, or 'ecological' dimensions. There can be no hope of re-
solving differences between paradigms whose fundamental disagreement
lies at such a philosophical level. However, it may be possible to find a
middle ground that recognizes a role for both ecological and social vari-
ables.
As animals in a world of limited resources and environmental haz-
ards, humans could not have escaped the processes that explain the evolu-
tion of other species and ecological communities. It is therefore reasonable
168
to seek an evolutionary and ecological approach to our research. At the
same time, we are cultural beings, engaging in symbolically constituted so-
cial networks and adaptating to our surroundings through symbolic filters
of language and thought.
A step towards the integration of our biological and cultural dimen-
sions is the realization that symbolic capacities and formation of meaning
(ideology) provide a unique context for adaptation and evolution. We try to
adapt to symbolic/cultural environments just as we do physical ones. This
claim will only be testable if we model social and cultural environments
according to their selective dynamics and develop hypotheses about how
people might use cultural tools (language, ideas, symbols) to compete for
survival resources and reproduction.

Dichotomy 2: Collectives and Individuals


The vertical axis of Figure 1 addresses differences of opinion about
the appropriate scale of social evolutionary analysis. Historically, scholars
have sought explanations of long term social change at the level of the
groups most visible over sustained periods of time (methodological collec-
tivism). Biologists once looked at the evolution of species in this way (see
Myer 1982:251-297), and social scientists have likewise favored social
groups, societies, cultures, or polities. To proponents of the collective ap-
proach, the observation that individuals make up social groups, actually
produce the social behavior, and generate the cultural practices and ideolo-
gies of interest is often overlooked or dismissed as irrelevant (e.g., Durk-
heim 1938; Kroeber 1952; Spencer 1967; see Giddens 1984:207-221).
Methodological individualists by contrast argue that we need to un-
derstand the motivations and actions of individuals if we want to under-
stand how larger groups and social structures are formed and transformed
(see Elster 1982, 1985, Giddens 1984). Unfortunately for those committed
to group level analysis, attempts to identify mechanisms of social change
without reference to individuals has consistently proved to be problematic.
The critique of group level explanations differs in biology and the social
sciences although the developments have been parallel (Smith and Winter-
halder 1992b). In biology, attempts to explain group level observations as
products of group selection (Wynne-Edwards 1962) have been soundly re-
jected on the grounds that most group phenomena can be explained as ag-

169
gregate effects of individual selection (Williams 1966) or less (e.g., genes:
Dawkins 1976). In social science, methodological individualists reject the
assumption that group properties are 'greater than the sum of their parts.'
Instead they seek to identify the 'microfoundations' of these properties by
focusing on individual activities and decision-making processes (Smith and
Winterhalder 1992b:39). Importantly, the levels of selection controversy in
biology is a theoretical problem while methodological individualism in the
social sciences contains no explicit theoretical rationale. Methodological
individualism is taken merely as the most productive strategy for isolating
those social constructs that do not require group-level explanations.
To see how these dichotemies differentiate the particular paradigms
of cultural ecology, Marxism, practice theory and evolutionary ecology, we
turn now to look at these frameworks in more detail, especially in the way
that they approach the issue of hunter-gatherer social evolution.

Paradigms in socio-cultural evolution


Cultural Ecology
Cultural ecologists, following Julian Steward (1955), Leslie White
(1959), Lewis Binford (1962) and others view culture as a system of coher-
ent rules, roles and strategies that help social collectives adapt to localized
environmental parameters. Of particular interest are the bottlenecks gener-
ated by unpredictable or infrequent shortages or other environmental crises.
It is in these moments of crisis that cultural practices are often seen as mak-
ing a difference between survival or extinction.
Cultural ecological approaches generally adopt the "adaptationist" or
"group-functional" assumption that social groups are adaptive units. Ac-
cording to this view, societies are coherent entities with evolved rules of
conduct. The rules stipulate different roles or statuses (hunter, mother,
shaman, chief, etc.) to be enacted by individual participants of the culture.
Collectively, the roles are assumed to function as the working parts of the
cultural whole much like parts of a machine. Each role is thought to be
crafted by natural selection to meet the survival needs of the cultural group
as a whole (e.g., Minc 1986). Cultural ecology appears to make sense of the
observation that societies are made up of people contributing to the con-
tinuation of the society in various ways.

170
Unfortunately, cultural ecologists have run into trouble defining the
boundaries of social units and have been unable to identify mechanisms
that would account for the development and accurate transmission of adap-
tive information (rules) at the group level. Where do the rules come from,
how are they reinforced so that they remain "functional" and effective
through generations when they may never be needed?
The group-functionalist claims of cultural ecology might be justified
with the development of a theory of group selection (Whallon 1989). In
1962, the biologist Wynne-Edwards proposed a model of group selection
that was incorporated into cultural ecological thinking (e.g., Rappaport
1968) almost as quickly as it was rejected by the biological community
(Williams 1966). The refutation of his model on theoretical and empirical
grounds set the stage for the strong individual-level bias in modern biologi-
cal theory (Myer 1982). The established biological view today is that indi-
vidual-level selection is normally stronger than group-level selection (see
Lewontin 1970). Recently theoretical biologists have proposed conditions
that could lead to group-level selection (Wilson 1989). According to these
models, group-level selection would be potent only when the relevant
variation between groups is greater than the variation within groups. In
small to medium scale human societies, with relatively fluid group mem-
bership and absence of institutional control over technological and strategic
developments, the conditions for group selection would rarely be met.
Other difficulties make group selection unlikely for larger scale societies
(but see Dunnell 1989 for an argument supporting the emergence of group-
selection in complex societies).
Models of the evolution of complex hunter-gatherers from this tradi-
tion have tended to see stratification as an unintended outcome of group ad-
justments that improve efficient decision making when growing popula-
tions encounter increasing exposure to subsistence risk and uncertainty
(e.g., Ames 1985, see also Johnson 1982). From this perspective, inequality
and stratification are tangential to the evolution of more complex adaptive
social organizations. Internally differentiated groups are still primarily co-
operative entities.
Cultural ecology seems to be unable to account for the evolution of
socio-political complexity because it takes a group-level view of adaptation
without a convincing explanation for how such adaptations are developed

171
and maintained through natural selection. Despite this problem, I derive a
number of ideas from this perspective useful for explaining social evolu-
tion. The theory of risk management has been particularly important in cul-
tural ecology, and it is a theory that can contribute important insights into
the analysis of human decision making and social evolution.

Marxism
According to Marxist approaches, social change comes from the on-
going development and resolution of conflicts in social and economic rela-
tions. Contemporary applications of Marxist theory vary considerably from
each other and from Marx's original formulations. The assumptions of this
paradigm that are relevant to this discussion include: 1) economic interests
are inherently divisive and prone to conflicts; 2) conflicts are manifested
between social groups or classes, divided by differential access to the
means of production; and 3) competition for control over the means of pro-
duction inevitably leads exploitation that can only be resolved through
revolution (dialectical synthesis). Marxist social scientists often see these
contests playing out in structural and ideological shifts in society (Fried-
man and Rowlands 1978, McGuire 1992).
Marxist models of the evolution of stratified hunter-gatherers have
often looked to the role of surplus production and instances in which sur-
plus could be alienated from a portion of the producers (e.g., Testart 1982).
Inequality is already assumed to be a potential of competition, dormant un-
til significant axes of differentiation are made available. The rising elite
then is seen as transforming an ideology of egalitarianism into one legiti-
mating differences. Rarely are mechanisms proposed by which such a
transformation might occur, but the tendency following Marxist theory is to
model competition between interest groups, be they men vs. women, elders
vs. youth, or rich vs. poor (e.g., Meillassoux 1981).
As Jon Elster (1985) has pointed out, Marx himself was inconsistent
in assigning the primary agency of history to individuals or groups. How-
ever, Marx's insistence that collective social consciousness drives competi-
tion and social transformation has left most marxist social scientists firmly
rooted in group-level explanations, but with little hope for identifying
mechanisms of group transformation. Thus, like cultural ecology, Marxist

172
analysis has tended to suffer from an ambiguous notion of agency (causal-
ity).
Nevertheless, the Marxist focus on social competition is a welcome
addition to the cultural ecological focus on social cooperation. It is the ten-
sion and interplay of these two opposing strategies - competition and coop-
eration at various scales - that seems to hold the key to much socio-political
evolution (see Boone 1992, Clark and Blake 1994).

Practice Theory
Having concluded that the group-level explanations of both cultural
ecology and Marxism are analytically problematic, a paradox is evident.
Long-term change seems to require an explanatory framework at its macro-
scale, but attempts to devise analytical units and mechanisms appropriate to
this task remain elusive.
This problem is at the core of recent writings in practice theory
(Ortner 1994) that seek to deal with the relationship between individual
agency and social structure. Giddens' classic theory of structuration is a
model in this attempt (1984). With the writings of Giddens, Bourdieu and
others, practice theory identifies a series of mechanisms for social change
grounded at the level of individual behavior (agency or action). People
have interests, values, and beliefs that are shaped by their culture and
unique individual circumstances. These combine to provide both con-
straints and opportunities as individuals pursue their own interests.
To more fully understand how humans pursue their interests, we
need a theory capable of specifying the nature of those interests and how
they are pursued. For humans, this entails a theory of culture that addresses
the nature of symbolic interaction. The theories of Bourdieu on symbolic
economies (e.g., 1991) and his followers (e.g., Tedlock and Mannheim
1995) argue that human language is the medium through which culture is
produced and modified. Each utterance and dialog provides a context for
renegotiating meaning and value and for recreating and changing culture.
Individuals use language to maneuver, to create opportunities, make allies,
and trivialize rivals. Language is an inherently political medium and it is
through language and symbolically motivated action that people change
culture and ideology, create institutions, dominate, resist, and acquiesce.

173
Iterated across large populations, social change is the outcome of more lim-
ited individual goals and behaviors.
Unlike cultural ecology and Marxism, practice theory provides a
mechanism for social behavior and its role in the construction and change
of social institutions. It imputes a competitive mechanism (self-interest) at
the individual level, and so avoids two of the most serious drawbacks of the
other frameworks so far discussed. It does not, however, attempt to gener-
alize about the underlying motivation for action. Agents are said to be self-
interested, but those interests are derived exclusively from their inherited
and negotiated system of symbolic values. This point makes it difficult to
use this framework to explain similarities between societies that are histori-
cally (and therefore culturally) unrelated.
This is a potentially critical shortcoming for the explanation of
evolving social stratification. Some archaeologists avoid this problem,
however, with the assumption that power, prestige and wealth are common
motivators of human action (e.g., Clark and Blake 1994; Hayden 1994,
1995).
Clark and Blake have written one of the classic works in this rela-
tively young genre (1994). They see the process of evolution to inequality
driven by "aggrandizers," individuals who, because of their inherently
dominant personalities, seek to turn the forces of nature, technology, and
labor power to their own personal benefit in accruing prestige. Aggrandiz-
ers emerge in contexts of high population density where stable and intensi-
fiable resources allow them to compete for prestige by attracting followers
and prestigious allies. Followers in turn sacrifice their equality in return for
the privilege of being part of an aggrandizer's faction, and because of the
generosity he exhibits towards them.
Clark and Blake's model is sophisticated and intriguing, but suffers
in two ways. First, by proposing that resource abundance is a necessary
condition for the emergence of inequality, the authors have to assume that
the subordination of non-aggrandizers occurs out of choice not obligation.
There is nothing to compel non-aggrandizers from remaining autonomous
except the possibility that they would miss some opportunities to share in
the aggrandizer's success. But if that success is more costly than autonomy
to subordinates, as it surely must have become under conditions of inequal-
ity, there would appear to be nothing to bond groups of unequal individuals

174
together. Missing from Clark and Blake's model is a theoretical rationale
for the reduction in egalitarian leveling mechanisms that are apparently so
common in foraging societies (c.f. Boehm 1993; Lee 1990; Woodburn
1982). To accept Clark and Blake's model, we have to assume that egalitar-
ian mechanisms are already largely abandoned or dysfunctional when ag-
grandizers begin to pursue self-appreciating strategies.
My second objection is that the motor of change is really situated in
different personality types (aggrandizers and non-aggrandizers). Hayden
has expressed this assumption most clearly when he has suggested that ag-
grandizer personalities are relatively rare and will be regular components of
co-residential groups, only when they grow to exceed a given population
density (Hayden 1995:20). The real drive behind change then is getting
population density to the point that personality differences can play a driv-
ing role in structural change. In Hayden's models we find little justification
for the assertion of critical personality differences. Such an assumption
leaves the agents of Hayden's model stripped of their ability to make deci-
sions when confronting unique social and environmental problems. It
seems unrealistic to assume that individuals do not have strategic flexibility
to choose either to pursue or to shun prestige competition and to resist or
accept subordination depending on their understanding of the opportunities
and outcomes of different behaviors. In other words, the personality-type
models are unsatisfactory because they do not consider the role of strategic
choice in socio-political evolution.
In sum, practice theory provides a particularly compelling view of
how culture is created and modified. It establishes the microfoundations of
cultural dynamics by looking where individuals actually produce it... in
symbolic communication. It runs into difficulty, however, when this dy-
namic view of cultural process is confronted with the need to explain cross-
cultural parallels. Practice theorists appeal to individual creativity and the
inheritance of cultural traditions (Bourdieu's habitus), or they posit their
own culture-bound values to enervate their actors (e.g., wealth, power,
prestige). Neither provides sufficient grounding to explain the general
trends that seem to underlie human social evolution in the development of
stratified or non-egalitarian hunter-gatherers. Practice theory seems to suf-
fer from an unwillingness to look behind meaningfully constituted behavior
for underlying tendencies or trends that apply cross-culturally. This unwill-

175
ingness is in part a reaction against the perceived determinism and materi-
alism of ecological, evolutionary, and to some extent Marxist approaches
(Brumfiel 1994).

Evolutionary Ecology
Human evolutionary ecology is an outgrowth of evolutionary biol-
ogy and human ecology. It is a field of study that tries to explain human
behavior and organization in terms of individual strategies for maximizing
reproductive fitness in variable ecological contexts. It assumes that people,
like other animals maintain a range of flexible behavioral strategies and
that people take motivation from evolved propensities to be reproductively
competitive (Smith and Winterhalder 1992b, Winterhalder and Smith
1992). Evolutionary ecology solves the dilemma of practice theory by as-
suming that human self-interest will tend to produce reproductively benefi-
cial consequences for individuals, while at the same time maintaining criti-
cal attention to the issue of flexible adaptation to variable physical, social,
and presumably symbolic or culturally produced environments. The expec-
tation of phenotypic flexibility in the face of ecological variation saves evo-
lutionary ecology from the biological determinism of more extreme forms
of sociobiology (Sahlins 1976).
Evolutionary ecology has the advantage of a strong theory of change
complete with a well tested set of mechanisms applicable across the natural
world: Darwinian evolution. Organisms can be expected to have evolved
propensities to pursue reproductive advantage. Although many find the as-
sumptions and orientation of evolutionary ecology unreasonably reduction-
istic for humans (Sahlins 1976), it is just this constitutive and explanatory
reductionism that gives it comparative analytical strength (see Winterhalder
and Smith 1992:14-15).
Despite the complicating effects of a symbolically mediated world, a
great deal of human behavior is clearly adaptively oriented (i.e. towards
survival and reproduction). Related to the issue of hunter-gatherer com-
plexity and the incomplete nature of practice theory models, evolutionary
biology is capable of explaining why in some circumstances some indi-
viduals might seek prestige and others not. Specifically, where self-
aggrandizement is likely to increase reproductive fitness, it is expected to
occur, where it would have negative consequences it should not.

176
Evolutionary ecologists who have entered the debate on the evolu-
tion of inequality and stratification have done so from two directions. Some
have sought to identify the ecological contexts that encourage unequal ac-
cess to the resources and opportunities that support survival and reproduc-
tion (e.g., Boone 1992, Vehrencamp 1983). They have argued that social
asymmetry requires competition over limited or variable quality resources
where the best resources can be more or less exclusively controlled. They
show that the resource environment has to be uneven and good patches
must be controlled and defensible. In such cases, those in poor quality areas
of the landscape have an interest in trading labor for increased security, of-
ten at a significant disadvantage.
The second approach has been to reverse the question and ask why
any groups have ever been egalitarian. Our nearest primate relatives all
have some form of status hierarchy, what makes some mobile hunter-
gatherer bands so unique (Boehm 1993)? The answer seems to reside in the
structure of the resource environment relative to the success rates of indi-
vidual foragers. Where hunting and gathering is unpredictable and results
in too much food one day and too little another, sharing will enable indi-
viduals to survive shortfall (Smith 1988; Winterhalder 1986). Also, when
the hunt is overproductive, begging and theft will often be tolerated. Shar-
ing and tolerated-theft tend to work against the concentration of resources
for selfish (reproductive ends) and encourage the development of egalitar-
ian social orders (Hawkes 1992). As groups shift their dietary focus in-
creasingly to smaller resources of greater predictability and stability, indi-
viduals are better able to manipulate surpluses to competitive ends (see
Blurton Jones 1987, Hawkes 1992).
In another set of approaches, somewhat beyond the framework of
this paper, several evolutionary theorists have taken up the question of
symbolic communication and how it modifies evolutionary processes.
These include the work of Boyd and Richerson (1985, Richerson and Boyd
1992), and others (e.g., Cvalli-Sforza and Feldman 1981, Durham 1991).
Boyd and Richerson have asked how the transmission of practices, beliefs,
and values between non-related individuals can set up evolutionary proc-
esses analogous to biological evolution... and how these same processes
can come in conflict with biological goals. Their research offers a promis-
ing avenue for exploring the emergence and evolution of cultural systems

177
and ideologies. It retains the expectation that individuals are the primary
agents of change and that reproductive predispositions should still guide
much of human decision making; however, it also accommodates the
"emergence" of symbolic systems of meaning that can be entirely self-
referential and without clear adaptive advantage.
Whatever the emergent quality of culture, patterns of culture change
seen over long time periods and with salient cross-cultural parallels need to
be explained with reference to processes less ideosynchratic than the emer-
gence of historically contingent ideological systems. A simple expectation
that most individuals will act in such a way as to survive, reproduce, and
insure the greatest survivorship of their offspring adds a powerful mecha-
nism to the political competition of practice theory and Marxism. It also
gives us reason to take a second look at the cooperative nature of social
groupings that forms the core of traditional cultural ecology.
One of the most significant contributions to cultural ecology in re-
cent years has been a focus on environmental variability and the strategies
people often use to reduce risks associated with these fluctuations. Risks
can be characterized by the amplitude and frequency of recurring hardships
over time and across space. Cooperative relationships are often developed
that allow people to share resources and information, thereby reducing their
susceptibility to environmental fluctuations (Halstead and Oshea 1989,
Minc 1986, Whallon 1989).
While cultural ecologists seek to show how cooperative strategies
yield benefits, evolutionary ecologists try to define the practical limits of
cooperation ("collective action"). They ask, for example, how large a coop-
erative group might become before it gets too large to be useful to individ-
ual participants (because free loaders can erode the benefits of cooperation;
Smith and Winterhalder 1992b). They also ask when individuals are likely
to be risk averse and when they might actually seek out risks (Winterhalder
1986). Again this gives us a tool of greater precision than the assumption
that people should always be risk reducing.
The concept of risk is important for modeling the evolution of social
complexity among hunting and gatherering groups because the motivation
for some people to become subordinate to other people is expected to de-
velop only when riskiness is unequally distributed across a population.

178
James Boone (1992) has developed the basic elements of an evolu-
tionary ecological model of social inequelity as follows. The critical step in
the emergence if inequality must be that which alienates some members of
a community from equal opportunities for survival and reproduction
through limits on the availability of quality foods, positions of authority,
and prestigious status roles. We can assume that potential subordinates will
rigorously defend their autonomy and equality from attempts at their sub-
jugation unless they have a compelling reason to accept subordination. For
example, people might accept diminished status if they find themselves in
situations of high ecological risk. Individuals, families, clans, or villages
with more stability and security and with the potential to produce beyond
their needs on occassion might be willing to share some of their surplus
with less secure neighbors. In return the needy neighbors could be expected
to contribute labor or capital resources (such as raw materials or other stor-
able or high quality resources) on a more regular basis.
Such unequal exchange could only develop where more secure indi-
viduals are able to defend their surplus. In times of hardship, disadvantaged
members of the community must find it in their best interest to trade labor
or tribute for security instead of seeking to take resources by force from
more affluent neighbors. If resources are not defendable, we would never
expect to see the development of a social landscape of unequal vulnerabil-
ity.
In this way, a patron-client relationship might evolve between people
living in a relatively unproductive environment punctuated by productive
and defensible resources. The resource landscape has to be uneven and
there have to be enough people competing for those resources to allow for
the exclusion of some of that population from high quality resource patches
(or the materials and knowledge of how to be productive in a given envi-
ronment).
Unequal access to material resources and the social and technologi-
cal knowledge that make a difference in resource production seems to un-
derlie the evolution of inequality. But there are host of ways that economic
asymmetry could develop. Hayden has outlined many of these (e.g., 1995).
In some circumstances defense of productive sites could be decisive; in
others, accumulation of surpluses and their selective reinvestment in social
alliances might be the key to social differentiation. However it is estab-

179
lished, the evolutionary ecological model suggests that non-egalitarian
hunting and gathering populations should arise where risks are unevenly
distributed across the landscape and where some individuals are forced to
make due on less than optimal conditions while still seeking to maximize
their survival and reproductive potential under the constraints of their situa-
tion.
The evolutionary ecological model outlined above is general in scope
and allows for a wide range of variation in the ways hunter-gatherers might
become increasingly complex. In most cases, population growth, social and
physical circumscription, sedentism, defense of resource locations and
residential territory, and control of resources through storage will be in-
volved in the reorganization of risks. Highly mobile foragers living in low
population densities and with the option to move to other areas or other
bands as necessary can maintain more or less equal exposure to risks. Only
when some people can prevent others from equal access to the best re-
sources will the social landscape become unequally risky, thereby support-
ing the development of inequality (Boone 1992).
This model accommodates the insights of practice theory in recog-
nizing that socio-cultural evolution occurs in a dynamic social and sym-
bolic context, in which the actions and beliefs of individuals generate novel
adaptive circumstances and unique opportunities for social competition.
Specific variation in the paths towards increasing complexity might derive
from differences in the ideologies and responses of individuals to given op-
portunities and constraints, although this is not expected to diminish the
general cross-cultural similarities that derive from shared socio-ecological
conditions and evolved propensities. In some cases, we might expect the
most effective reproductive strategy in a cultural environment to be a con-
servative, self-effacing, and cooperative one. In others, some individuals
may be able to negotiate superior positions of power, prestige and/or
wealth that may or may not translate into higher reproductive fitness. A
good percentage of many people's lives are spent trying to increase security
by reducing risk and uncertainty. This compels them to pursue cooperative
strategies and sometimes accept unequal relationships.

180
Conclusion
Social behavior is inherently strategic, and competition and coopera-
tion are alternative social strategies employed to meet both culturally and
biologically inherited goals. Humans pursue these goals in a world of sym-
bols and through a variety of proximate motivations. The pursuit of wealth,
power, and prestige may be common proximate means to these ends in
some circumstances and for some people. In other contexts, cooperation
and self-effacement may be more beneficial. And these strategies should
become nested, where for example, it becomes important for aggrandizers
to cooperate with kin and others to compete against rival families, villages,
or clans.
While traditional cultural ecology and Marxism are largely super-
ceded by more individually oriented perspectives in this analysis, both tra-
ditions have played important roles in challenging us to think about coop-
eration and competition, structure and agency. Practice theory leads us to
consider the mechanisms by which humans generate a social and ideologi-
cal edifice and the proximate motivations that guide decisions to compete
or cooperate with neighbors. Evolutionary ecology in turn provides a set of
basic biological and ecological models that allow us to look underneath
symbolic systems and ask how humans use their symbolic, social, and
physical surroundings to ultimate advantage. By seeking common ground
between these two paradigms (practice theory and evolutionary ecology),
we should be able to advance the field of social evolutionary studies farther
and faster than reproducing the approaches of each in isolation.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: An earlier version of this paper was pre-
sented at the 8th Conference on Hunting and Gathering Societies, Aomori
Session, Aomori, Japan, October 22, 1998. I am indebted to the organizers
of the CHAGS conference, Aomori session for providing such a great op-
portunity for the sharing of ideas on the archaeology of hunter-gatherers,
and for their very generous support of conference participants. The editors
of this volume deserve praise for organizing such an ambitious interna-
tional exchange of theoretical ideas. I am pleased to have been invited to
participate. Laada Bilaniuk, Don Grayson, Eric Smith, and Julie Stein each
provided valuable suggestions on an earlier draft of this paper. I take full
responsibility for any errors or omissions.

181
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8

HUNTER-GATHERER ADAPTATIONS
IN SEMI-DESERT AREAS*

Alexander Kazankov

In this article we will propose a hypothesis aimed at explaining the


morphological similarity between South African Bushmen and mongoloids
of Central Asia. We suggest that this similarity developed mainly as a con-
vergent paedomorphic adaptation of the two genetically distant populations
to the semi-arid ecological conditions of the Last Glacial Period (in South
Africa and Central Asia respectively).
Paedomorphism is a kind of morphological development character-
ised by the truncation of the definitive ontogenetic stages. According to
A.S. Severtsov's definition (1990: 202) paedomorphism may be also char-
acterized as aromorphic hypomorphy or adaptation by way of despecializa-
tion. S.J. Gould has gathered sufficient evidence to demonstrate that the
strengthening of paedomorpism was the major characteristic of the evolu-
tion of all progressive groups of hominids (1977: 215-219, 358-365, 406),
and we share this view entirely.
Here we are interested, more concretely, in the underdevelopment of
secondary sexual characteristics in males of the populations in question
(with the retention, of course of the reproductive functions). Let us consider
the list of the paeomorphic features proposed originally by L. Bolk (cit. by
S.J. Gould 1977: 356-357; Bolk 1929: 6).
1. Ortognacy.
2. Reduction or lack of bodily hair.
3. Loss of pigmentation in skin, eyes and hair.
4. The form of the external ear.

187
5. The epicantic (or Mongolian) eyefold.
6. High relative brain weight.
7. Persistence of cranial sutures to an advanced age.
8. The labia majora of women.
9. The structure of the hand and foot.
10. The form of the pelvis.
11. The ventrally directed position of the sexual canal in women.
12. Certain variations of the tooth row and cranial sutures.
We may notice that characteristics 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8 and 9 are at the
same time the characteristicss wich draw together morphologically Bush-
men and Continental (Classical) Mongoloids. In the case of character 3 it is
relevant to collate the Bushmen depigmentation with the skin colour of the
african negroid populations, since both these populations belong to the
same cladogenetic stem (Harpending, Jenkins 1973: 171-172; Jenkins et al.
1970).
Character 4 is represented in Bushmen by the complete absence of
the earlobe in both males and females; character 8 - by the hypertrophy of
the labia minora. Character 9 is represented in both populations by diminu-
tive wrists and feet, and general shortness of limbs in relation to the size of
the body.
It is quite logical to suppose that the closeness of the morphotypes of
the two cladogenetically distant populations may be explained by conver-
gent (and independent) development under similar ecological (and social)
conditions. Let us check this supposition.
Both of the morphotypes under consideration developed relatively
late, probably within the final stages of the last stadial (25-17 kiloyears
ago; we will write: "k.a."). Earlier safely dated palaeoanthropological finds
of the Bushmen or Continental Mongoloids are lacking (Kuchera 1996:
109-110; Debetz 1956: 399-400).
Also in all cases where Mongoloids are further mentioned their Clas-
sical (or Continental) variant will be implied unless otherwise noted. In
comparison with the Palaeomongoloid type the Classical Mongoloids are
characterized by the strengthening of all the specific mongoloid morpho-
logical complex of characters (Coon 1962: 428-429). The palaeomongoloid

*
The research has been supported by the Russian Ministry of General and Professional
Education (the Language, Culture, Society Program; project # 01.0100.99.F).
188
type is retained, to a degree, by Amerindians and some South East Asian
populations.
Now let us consider the palaeoclimates of the regions where the
Bushmen and Central Mongoloids (supposedly) evolved. Alongside the pa-
laeoclimatic data we will consider some mechanisms of adaptation of the
hunter-gatherers in the semi-deserts.
In the inner regions of South Africa (the territory of the Republic of
South Africa, at least) the interval of 25-16 k.a. is characterized (in com-
parison with the preceeding period) by:
1. Strengthening of aridity.
2. Lowering of the mean annual temperatures by 5-6 degrees (com-
pared with the present).
3. Increasing of the wind velosity in the inner areas.
All these climatic changes had led to the lowering of the diversity
and productiveness of the hunter-gatherer food base. The density of the
population in South Africa at that time had declined considerably, as is
shown by ample archaeological data (Deacon, Lancaster, Scott 1984; Lan-
caster 1984; Mitchell 1988: Opperman 1987).
Now let us consider the adaptations of the modern South African
foragers to the semi-desert ecological conditions, for example - the !Kung
Bushmen of the Norh-Western Kalahari.
The unit of the primary genetic reproduction of !Kung (in the Nyae
Nyae region) traditional society is a dem. This Nyae Nyae dem, i.e. a popu-
lation within which most of the marriages are contracted is disperced over
an enormous territory (1000 people to 10.000 square miles). In this section
of the Kalahari "desert" the rainfall is highly imbalanced, both in time and
space. In the three months of the moonsoon rainfalls (January-March of the
Southern Hemisphere) some areas of the Nyae Nyae may be literally
flooded, whereas other will receive only sprinkles of rain. If hunting (and
gathering) grounds of a particular band (a territorial community of hunter-
gatheres of something between 20-40 people) are struck by draught, they
(the hunters) must either disperse to the family units and go to some other
places, or go as a whole band to the territory of one of the neighbouring
bands. If neither of these options is available the members of the drought-
struck band will die out of hunger and thirst (J.Marshall 1973: 108;
L.Marshall 1976).

189
It is obvious, that under such conditions, no constant enmity between
bands may evolve. All the neighbouring people are exactly the people upon
whom the very life of the particular band members is dependent in times of
draught. And these draughts are quite regular since they are a part of the
global four-year El Nino cycle (Jin 1996: 76-78). The distant bands with
which the enmity might evolve are too distant due to the very low density
of the population.
The same situation is valid for any semi-desert hunter-gatherer popu-
lations, registerd by ethnographers (Central Australia and the Great Basin
of USA: Strehlow 1965: 124-128; Harris 1963: 44; Janetski 1981: 124).
The Bushmen of Nyae Nyae had 7 times lower incidence of homi-
cide (judged by number of killings per year for the size of population) as
compared with the aboriginals of the non-desert South Eastern Australia
and North-Eastern Arnhemland (Lee 1979: 383; Blainey 1975: 106-110,
174). Similarly to the Bushmen, all the ethnographically registered foragers
of semi-desert areas had (before acculturation) low levels of inter-
community aggression (Otterbein 1968; Ember 1978; Schnirelman 1994:
95-102).
For the above-mentioned regions of aboriginal Australia the ability
of a man to defend his family in inter-community conflicts was as impor-
tant as his hunting prowess (Buckley, 1966). For the !Kung Bushmen such
ability was not at all considered while contracting a marriage (Marshall
1976).
We may suppose that this mechanism, ecological suppression of in-
ter-community aggression, was present at any time in the past where and
when the early foragers adapted to the semi-desert environment. As a re-
sult, the trend toward paedomorphisation, characteristic of Homo sapiens
evolution had developed more intensely in semi-deserts. In semi-deserts the
selection vector for the muscular type of a male, with strong skeletal relief,
was slackened for lack of necessity.
Modern hormonology tells us that the whole complex of male secon-
dary sexual characteristics in humans is controlled mainly by a single fac-
tor: testosterone, i.e. male sex hormone (Ohno 1979: 13, 174-175; Berzin
1964: 31-32; Yudaev 1976: 267). It is also well-known that testosterone
stimulates development of the muscle tissues in adults and bone tissues in
certain target areas in the sensitive periods. We also know that tertiary

190
male-sex differences, at least, are developed during puberty, when the con-
centration of testosterone in blood serum rises. In addition it has been
shown experimentally (Olweus et al. 1988: 253, 263-266) that testosterone
affects positively the unprovoked aggression and tolerance of frustration in
adolescent nothern European males (at least). Testosterone levels are defi-
nitely positively correlated with aggressive reactions in animals (chimpan-
zees included) (Svare 1983: 179). As to Bushmen, data are available show-
ing a greater ratio of oestrogens in their urine samples in comparison with
negroids (Davies 1949; Tobias, 1965). Since both androgenes and oestro-
genes are present in the blood of both males and females of Homo sapiens
sapiens, the greater ratio of oestrogens in Boshmen would indicate lowered
testosterone blood-status. Thus the convergent paedomorphisation scheme
of evolutionary development in Bushmen and Central Mongoloids may be
proven, if future research would show the lowered testosterone status of
Mongoloids (in comparison with Europeoids, for example).
We may also note, that the lowering of the testosterone status may
have taken place histirically not only in the early Mongoloids and Busmen,
but in the transintion from palaeoanthrops to modern humans. The possibil-
ity of such a scenario is indicated by the greater gracility of Homo sapiens
sapiens in comparison with all groups of Neandertaloids and by the sug-
gested (Roginskij 1977: 193-194, 210-215) level of the inter-community
aggression for the former.
As to the pelaeoclimatic conditions in Central Asia during the Last
Glacial Maximum, data are indeed scanty. We have, however, indirect in-
dications to the fact that the factors stimulating the suggested paedomor-
phisation of the Continental Mongoloids in their formative period acted
even more strongly than in Southern Africa. Let us consider the way of life
of the Western Shoshoneans, studied by J. Seward and J. Harris. Their
home - Great Basin of Nevada is a geographic and orographic analogue of
of the semi-deserts of Mongolia. The Nevadan part of the Great Basin is a
non-tropical semi-desert with the non-vegetational period (for the plants) in
winter. In the life of the Shoshoni people a great danger indeed was present
every spring: at that time of the year a part of the population regularly died
of hunger. We may assume, consequently, that the process of paedomor-
phic selection acted more intencely in the semi-deserts of the temperate
zones in comparison with the tropical semi-deserts. And a considerable part

191
of Mongolia, judging by its endemic flora and general geographic position,
is a classical example of the ancient semi-desert area (Babayev 1986: 10-
17, 82, 93; Alexeev 1990: 7, 24).
Judging from the archaeological data the prototypes of the pelaeoin-
dian stone industries originated somewhere in Central Asia by about 35 k.a.
(Mochanov 1977; Mochanov 1992: 5-8; Yi, Klark 1985). By 18 k.a. the de-
scendants of these industries the Dyuktai people reached North-Eastern Si-
beria (Mochanov 1992: 17-18; Yi, Clark 1985: 18). It is logical to suppose,
that by this time the prosess of the ultimate paedomorphisation of the Clas-
sical Mongoloid relatives of the Dyuktaians was at its height; and it hap-
pened broadly in the same regions from where the latter originated some
17.000 years earlier.
There can be little doubt that the semi-deserts were very widely dis-
tributed in Central Asia during the Last Glacial Maximum. The palaeocli-
matic changes of that time were of global character, since they were caused
by changes in the declivity of the axis of the Earth's orbit and a number of
connected parameters (Sarntheim 1978: 43-46; Kutzbach 1981; Kutzbach
and Street-Perrot 1985). At the time of the LGM part of the atmosheric wa-
ter was locked up in the great glaciers of the nothern hemisphere. As a re-
sult, in the regions with a trend to aridity the aridity strengthened. There is,
as well, some direct evidence of arid environment fauna of some regions of
Central Asia in the early holocene (Sarnthein 1978: 45; Nelson 1926a;
1926b; Nelson 1927).
Then the question arises: why was there no additional paedomorphi-
sation in Great Basin? The tentative explanation is as follows:
1. Great Basin is a much smaller region than Central Asia, and the
natural boundaries close the latter more securely from adjacent re-
gions (Tibet, Himalayas and the Central Asian sand deserts). So the
flow of genes to the Great Basin from adjacent non-arid regions
might have been more intense than in Central Asia. The last migra-
tion of the new populations to the Great Basin happened about 4 k.a.
ago (Cressman 1977: 98-99; Janetski 1981: 151-155).
2. The semi-arid conditions established themselves in the G.B. only at
the beginning of holocene (at about 10 k.a.), so the period of adapta-
tion to these conditions was much shorter than in Central Asia.
Why do we consider the morphology of the Bushmen as a result of

192
adaptation (at least partly) to the semi-desert environment despite the fact
that some regions of Southern Africa are relatively well-watered? Our rea-
sons are that the well-watered areas are much smaller than the semi-deserts
(Kalahari, Karoos and Namib) (Cole, 1966); consequently the gene flow
from the latter dominated the region of Southern Africa as a whole.
Another question is: why the paedomorphisation did not happen in
Australia. Probably the answer lies in the fact that the starting gene pool
from which such a process might develop was too much archaic. The an-
cestors of the modern Australian Aborigines appear to have absorbed a
considerable amount of genes from the descendants of the Indonesian
Homo erectus populations. The latter survived in the western Java up to the
35 millenium ago (Flood 1987; McIntosh, Larnach 1972; Roginskij 1977:
154; Barbetti, Allen 1972: 46-48).
And the last remark. The paedomorphic populations live not only in
semi-arid areas (Baker 1974: 303-306). The explanation of the develop-
ment of paedomorphism in lapanoids, negrilles and veddoids may lie in the
fact that they had (probably) suffered military defeats in their past and had
been pushed to the inhospitable environments. The peoples that suffered
the historical defeats of this sort tend to lose social institutions necessary
for the resolving conflicts through organized aggressive behavior (Service
1968: 160-161).

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Shnirel’man, V.I. 1994. U istokov vojny i mira. Vojna i mir v rannej istorii chelove-
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9

HIERARCHY AND EQUALITY


AMONG HUNTER-GATHERERS OF THE NORTH
PACIFIC RIM: TOWARD A STRUCTURAL
HISTORY OF SOCIAL ORGANIZATION

Peter P. Schweitzer

Exactly twenty years ago, there was a conference held at the Na-
tional Museum of Ethnology in Osaka, a place all of us will see more of
during the next couple of days. This "Second International Symposium"
dealt primarily with history and culture of Alaska Native societies. One of
the papers delivered at the conference was by Joan B. Townsend, an ethno-
historian of South Alaskan groups. The published version of this paper, en-
titled "Ranked Societies of the Alaskan Pacific Rim" (Townsend 1980),
tackled a problem which several speakers on today's panel (including my-
self) are revisiting. While I do not intend to make my presentation into a
review of this pioneering article, I want to mention some of its basic as-
sumptions and findings.
One of Townsend's major goals was to overcome the practice of
treating South Alaskan societies as isolated entities, structured merely
along the linguistic divisions of "Aleut," "Indian," "Eskimo". Instead she
proposed to view the peoples of the southern Alaskan Pacific Rim (Aleuts,
Alutiit [Koniag and Chugach], Denaina, Ahtna, Eyak, and Tlingit) as hav-
ing been organized into a common network of inter-societal relations. The
dominant aspect of soda-political organization of all these groups was rank-
ing. Ranking-minimally defined as the presence of a; least two social
classes (free and non-free)-was, in the last instance, seen as triggered by
favorable environmental conditions and resulting large population concen-

197
trations (Townsend 1980). In the context of then dominant anthropological
perspectives, Townsend's emphasis on inter-societal contacts was espe-
cially laudable. Similarly, comparative issues of ranking societies in Alaska
had been little explored before her contribution.
Nevertheless, my approach to the problem of "Hierarchy and Equal-
ity in the North Pacific Rim" differs on several accounts not only from
Townsend's approach, but also from those adopted by subsequent writers
on the subject (who were, predominantly, archaeologists). First, instead of
focusing exclusively on the hierarchical or ranked societies of the region,
as most authors have done with good reason, I will deal with both types,
while concentrating on so-called "egalitarian" societies of the region. This
is partly due to the fact that my own ethnographic expertise stems mainly
from the area surrounding Bering Strait; more importantly, however, I
thereby want to express my belief that it is not only "hierarchy" that needs
to be explained. Equality is as little a given as is ranking. Secondly, I will-
at least partly-resurrect the linguistic boundaries Townsend wanted to do
away with. Thirdly, I will not employ an ecological approach in my presen-
tation. That does not mean that I belittle the fact that human thought and
action is an interactive process between human actors and their social and
natural environments. However, I have the feeling that environmental fac-
tors (be it "abundance," "reliability," etc.) have been over- stressed in ap-
proaching the subject. Finally, although my perspective is diachronic, my
data are ethnographic, dating from the 18th to the 20th century. Thus, in
contrast to archaeological approaches to the subject I am dealing with a
rather microscopic time-scale. Nevertheless, I will argue for the extensibil-
ity of certain social models into a more distant past, as well as for ways of
dealing with structural change.
Several of these statements clearly call for more explanation. I will
provide some of it in my next section, which will discuss the theoretical a-
prioris of my perspective. As a second step, I will try to apply this perspec-
tive by suggesting a "broad-brush" regional model of hierarchi-
cal/egalitarian modes of soda-political organization in the North Pacific
Rim region. Subsequently, I will take a closer look at one area within the
region, the Bering Strait area, in order to account for local variations
within the broad picture. Finally, I will try to reconnect the analytical
parts, which win-hopefully-clarify some of my enigmatic initial state-

198
ments. However, more questions will be a necessary side-product of such a
venture, which is-overall-more an "ideas" than a "facts" paper.

Theoretical Perspectives
It might be said that students of comparative soda-political systems
interested in the North Pacific Rim are well advised to turn their attention
to studies conducted in the south-central part of the Pacific, namely in
Polynesia. In the sphere of cultural anthropology there is an impressive
lineage, which early stages contain names such as A.M. Hocart (1969
[1927]; 1970 [1936]), Marshall Sahlins (1958; 1970 [1963]), and lrving
Goldman (1970). Goldman's "Ancient Polynesian Society" (1970), the most
detailed study of the era, is an impressive compendium of facts which he
generally tied to "principles of aristocracy". This radically idealistic posi-
tion appeared at a much unfitting time: neo-evolutionism and cultural ecol-
ogy were about to take over mainstream American anthropology. Thus, the
subsequent boom in archaeological treatises of the subject was much more
informed by Sahlins early work, than by Hocart's or Goldman's. Polynesia
became the testing ground for Service's (1971 [1962]) model of chiefdoms.
Notably, Patrick Kirch (1984) and Timothy Earle (1991; 1997) interrogated
Polynesian societies as prime examples of "intermediate-level societies".
However, during these heydays of ecologically informed pursuits of
tendencies of social evolution, one of the initial instigators of this ap-
proach-Marshall Sahlins-took another route. Starting with "Culture and
Practical Reason" (Sahlins 1976) he provided a thorough critique of utili-
tarianism in anthropology (be it in the form of economic or ecological re-
ductionism). His emerging counter-position was basically culturalist-that
is, assuming the non-reducibility of cultural models-and thus seemed to go
not much further than his idealist predecessors. However, in "Islands of
History" (Sahlins 1985), Sahlins made a decisive step in overcoming seem-
ingly solid dichotomies of past research. On an abstract level, this entails
not only going beyond the materialism/idealism debate, but also arguing
that anthropology and history, structure and event, cultural order and cul-
tural praxis are not mutually exclusive explanatory tools, but mutually ne-
cessitating ones. The plea "to explode the concept of history by the anthro-
pological experience of culture (Sahlins 1985: 72) leads to a project of
structural history that goes beyond the long duree of Braudel's historiogra-

199
phy. Specifically, by interjecting the concept of "structure of the conjunc-
ture" Sahlins is able to overcome the traditional weakness of structuralist
approaches, namely their inability to account for change. Incorporating im-
portant clues from practice theory (see, e.g., Bourdieu 1979 [1972]; 1990
[1980]), Sahlins argues that cultural schemes are constantly "put at risk" by
their practical realization. A corollary is "that different cultural orders have
their own, distinctive modes of historical reproduction" (Sahlins 1985: x).
In the following I will use the terms "cultural order" and "cultural schemes"
in a restricted sense, namely limited to aspects of soda-political organiza-
tion. It is evident that the full content of these terms is much larger than my
use of them.
Let us now take a look at how these big words can be applied to the
topic under consideration. I will begin with a generalizing account of the
"cultural schemes" of socio- political organization in the North Pacific. I
will limit myself to the northern part of the area which encompasses the
coastal areas of Alaska from Ketchikan to Barrow and the coastal areas of
the Russian Far East from the northern tip of Chukotka to the southern tip
of Kamchatka. The data used are mostly synchronic; the diachronic range
is from the 18th through the 20th century, leading to a focus on so-called
traditional societies. However, following the adopted culturalist approach,
modernization does not necessarily away with deeply-embedded soda-
political models. Anyone you has ever had the possibility to contrast con-
temporary Tlingit and Inupiaq political leaders in action, will know what I
mean.

The Socio-Political Schemes of North Pacific Rim Societies


Beginning with the most basic typology-egalitarian vs. ranked-we
could extend Townsend's model into the Russian Far East and, thus, add all
the indigenous societies of the area-Siberian Yupiit, Chukchis, Koryaks,
and Itermens-to her "egalitarian bloc" of central, western, and northern
Alaska. However, the model produces two problems. On the one hand,
Townsend's ecological explanation for the occurrence of ranked societies
cannot sufficiently explain the egalitarian structure of Itermen society in a
resource-Inch environment reminiscent of the Northwest Coast (pace
Shnirerman 1994). On the other hand, the model only takes into account
the limited distribution of de-facto ranking in historical times. Thus, while

200
Alaskan Athapaskan societies display elements of internal hierarchies and
fixed leadership positions-with full-blown ranking realized in only some of
them-other cases seem to indicate that a certain socio-cultural logic can
prevent lasting hierarchies even under extremely abundant conditions (e.g.,
Naukan Yupiit, Bering Strait Inupiat, Itermens, etc.). Switching to a "model
of culturally structured practice" - that is, one that looks at cultural schemes
and their bandwidth of structural variation - the dividing line would be
drawn differently. What I would call "bilateral societies with limited status
positions," would coincide with Townsend's egalitarian societies in the
RFE and western and northern Alaska. However, I would group the Atha-
paskan societies of interior and south-central Alaska with Townsend's
ranked societies and call them "lineage societies with internal hierarchies".
Thus, the dividing line would run almost along linguistic/cultural bounda-
ries: Paleosiberian and Eskimo groups would end up in the "egalitarian"
camp, while Na-Dene groups (Athapaskans, Eyak, Tlingit) would find
themselves on the hierarchical side of the equation. Only the Alutiit and
Aleuts - speakers of Eskimo-Aleut languages and historically clearly in the
hierarchical camp-would defy this overly neat cultural border.
In the context of "reclassifying" Athapaskan societies, it is highly
relevant to point to some recent discussions about Proto-Athapaskan social
organization. Ever since Frederica de Laguna has demonstrated that matri-
lineal clans and moieties among the interior Athapaskans are not recent
borrowings (Laguna 1975), more and more researchers have argued for
tracing distinct realizations of social organization among Athapaskans,
Eyaks, and Tlingits to a common source. While Rosman and Rubel (1986)
have provided further argumentation in the sphere of social relations, Ser-
gei Kan has supplemented the case with evidence from the spheres of reli-
gious beliefs and rituals (Kan 1989). Similarly, at least Proto-Athapaskan
and Eyak kinship terms can be traced to a common structural base (Krauss
1977).
As mentioned before, the major problem of such a culturalist model
is presented by the Alutiit and Aleuts. Disregarding the ecological argu-
ment for the time being, two possible explanatory scenarios emerge. On the
one hand, "good old" diffusion/migration could be brought into the picture.
Indeed, there is some-albeit weak-evidence of Tlingit expansion not only
into Eyak territory, but at least as far as Kodiak Island. However, it still

201
might afford a stretch of imagination to explain all non-Na-Dene forms of
ranking in South Alaska with culture contact processes. At the same time,
such an explanation would seem to go against the grain of my approach,
which-by and large-argues for the persistence of cultural schemes. Thus,
diffusion as such does not explain anything, unless the received "culture
dements" can be demonstrated to have been incorporated into the pre-
existing schemes. The second possible explanation suggests a split of soda-
political models within the Eskimo-Aleut language family. This split would
have to be situated along the lnuit/Yupik boundary and have to include the
Aleuts under the Yupik model. This proposed split could be related to the
historical Thule expansion of contemporary Inupiaq/Inuit groups. For the
Yupik side of the divide, the archaeological hypothesis of western Alaskan
Paleoeskimo roots relatively undisturbed by Punuk/Thule influence could
be mentioned (see, e.g., Fitzhugh 1988). At the same tirhe, this would lead
to one more revision in situating the dividing line between "bilat-
eral/limited status positions" groups and "unilineal/hierarchical" groups.
Now, a Yupik "wedge" of unilineal groups would be pointing north from
the Alaska Peninsula to the shores of the Bering Strait. While it is rela-
tively easy, at least to postulate, a common Yupik/Aleut principle of kin-
ship structure-patrilineal tendencies with weakly developed unilineal en-
dogamous descent groups and no moieties, the question of structural social
hierarchies is more complex. A comparative view of Yupik societies docs
not reveal internal hierarchies as part of the picture. Thus, it is necessary to
partially bring hypothesis one back into the picture, in order to arrive at a
more complex interpretation. This entails the assumption that Proto-
Yupik/Aleut soda-political organization was amenable to diffusion proc-
esses from Proto-Athapaskan societies-that is, the two soda-cultural orders
were different but compatible. Further, given the favorable environmental
conditions of South Alaska, Tlingit/Eyak/Athapaskan northward expansion
along the coast could be hypothesized to have led to structural transforma-
tions in the soda-political make-up of Aleuts and Alutiit, leaving more
northern Yupik groups outside its sphere of influence. [As a matter of fact,
it could as easily have been the other way round: a Proto-Athapaskan south
Alaskan population was, sometime around the end of the first millennium
AD, removed/assimilated by Yupik-speakers from the North - see, e.g.,
Dumond 1988)]

202
This hypothetical big picture definitely calls for more details. I will
provide those within the context of a narrower geographical scope,
namely the Bering Strait region. Following our latest revision of the bilat-
eral/unilineal and egalitarian/ranking divide, the region under considera-
tion is generally characterized by egalitarian societies, most of which are
bilateral. However, a closer look will reveal significant regional variation,
which will be discussed within a framework of cultural schemes and dia-
chronic culture contact processes.

Equality and Inequality in 60 Bonne Strait Region


The indigenous societies of the Bering Strait region I have worked
wit since 1990 are the Chukchis and Siberian Yupiit of Chukotka and the
Bering Strait Inupiat of Alaska. In addition, I will add the North Alaskan
(North Slope) Inupiat to the discussion. For a few hundred years, this re-
gional network of ethnic groups has been divided along the lines of the
mode of subsistence. All of the Inupiat and Siberian Yupiit, as well as the
maritime Chukchis, were coastal dwellers, who specialized onto various
forms of sea mammal hunting, supplemented by land hunting, fishing, and
gathering. On the other hand, the Reindeer Chukchis had become-sometime
between the 17th and 19th century-large-scale reindeer herders, who repre-
sented a pastoral mode of subsistence. In the following I want to summa-
rize what I consider the core elements of social and political organization
(in-depth treatment is out of the question within 20 minutes), highlighting
similarities as well as differences.
In terms of basic aspects of kinship structure, the entire area can be
characterized-by and large-as predominantly bilateral. However, this gen-
eralization has immediately to be qualified: among the Siberian Yupiit
(both in Chukotka and on St. Lawrence Island) Acre are clear indications
of a patrilineal tendency regarding descent, as well as named groups re-
minding of unilineal descent groups. Although I have argued elsewhere
that it is misleading to call these groups "clans" or "lineages" (Schweitzer
1992; 1994), the difference warrants to be mentioned. As mentioned ear-
lier, there seems to be a Yupik/lnuit split on this matter: Yupik societies
from Chukotka to Bristol Bay-and most likely including the Abuts-display
this kind ofpatrilineal tendency, or "patrilineally tainted" bilateralism.
Thus, the St. Lawrence, Chaplino, and Naukan Yupiit counteract the over-

203
all bilateral tendency, although these unilineal features are less developed
than among Tungusic groups to the West or Athapaskan groups to the East.
Turning exclusively to the coastal population for a moment, all the
large-sea-mammal- hunting groups of the area display a similar structural
element of labor organization, which was and continues to be influential
in all spheres of social life. This social unit-the boat crew-consisted, be-
fore the advent of outboard motors, of eight to nine adult males. One of
them was the captain who owned the boat (imialiq in Inupiaq, an'yaliq in
Siberian Yupik, ättw-e'rmecin in Chukchi), one was the designated har-
pooner, and the others were primarily engaged in paddling. It could be ar-
gued that this form of cooperation was determined by the ecological and
technological constraints of large sea mammal hunting conducted without
industrial means. However, the specific details of how the this group is
recruited, how the catch is distributed, and which forms of boat ownership
and inheritance are followed are in no way a given. In the following I will
thus compare the specific ways in which the crews were constituted and
how this correlated with leadership patterns.
There seems to be basic agreement among all three groups that
the recruitment of crew members was largely done along kinship lines.
Among the Chukchis and Inupiat the bilateral concept of descent led to
an extensive use of patri- and matrilateral, as well as affinal ties. As is to
be expected, among the Siberian Yupiit there was a clear preponderance
of patrilineal ties (either in the form of father-son or patrilateral parallel
cousin relationships); nevertheless, matrilateral and affinal ties were
also used, albeit to a lesser degree than among Chukchis and Inupiat.
However, one other aspect deserves mentioning: while Chukchi and Si-
berian Yupik recruitment choices were limited by "centripetal" tenden-
cies-that is, they select "relatives" from within the limits of "clan" or
"neighborhood" pools-the North Alaskan Inupiat selection process was
much less constrained and thus contained more elements of competition.
Especially good harpooners were much sought after and they often
came from other villages, lured by presents and demonstrations of com-
petence by the captain (Spencer 1972). Kinship links which did not exist
before came into existence by joining a boat crew, which also necessi-
tated joining the "community house" or qargi of the captain.

204
If we now turn to the political aspect of crew organization, the
status of the captain shows interesting variation throughout the area. The
Inupiaq umialiq, at least since the late 19th century, was clearly the domi-
nant figure in all aspects of social and political life. This included redis-
tributive functions (in the process of distributing the harvest), which
served to consolidate his "following". Thus, his position can be compared
to "Big Man" statuses elsewhere. On the other hand, neither the Chukchi
nor the Siberian Yupik captains ever rose to such level of social promi-
nence. They were generally well-respected members of the community,
whose inOuence was confined to sea-mammal hunting pursuits. For ex-
ample, among the Siberian Yupiit, in addition to the captain and the sha-
man, there were the leadership positions of nunaliq ("master of the vil-
lage" - largely ritual office) and umeliq ("strong man"). Thus, status posi-
tions were dispersed and situational and did not allow one of them to rise
to all-encompassing.
We can see now a number of distinctive features within the seem-
ingly similar systems. On the one hand, the "broad" Inupiaq interpretation
of kinship ("almost everybody can become a relative if mutually benefi-
cial") contrasts with the "narrower" Chukchi and Siberian Yupik interpreta-
tion (fewer means of "kinship extension" in Chukchi than in Eskimo kin-
ship; "clan organization" as a limiting factor among the Sibrian Yupiit).
This difference overrides the bilateral/patrilineal split, making the bilateral
Chukchi in this respect closer to the patrilineal Yupik than to the bilateral
Inupiat. In addition, Chukchi and Yupik status positions are more diversi-
fied and balanced than among the North Alaskan Inupiat. However, even
among Chukchis and Yupiit the position of the boat-captain was potentially
the most critical vehicle in endangering social and gender equality. In
North Alaska, this potential was more fully realized: the absence of other
strong political positions (except the shaman), coupled with a kinship sys-
tem that serves more as an "ideology" than as relations of production, al-
lowed the emergence of a powerful figure – umialiq - who could fully en-
gage in the individual maximization of prestige.
We still need to look at diachronic aspects of soda-political organi-
zation of coastal communities in the Bering Strait area. It is evident that
the incorporation of Bering Strait societies into global exchange relations,
and especially the advent of commercial whalers in the mid - 19th century,

205
triggered soda-political changes, which also affected the position of boat
captains. For example, for the North Alaskan Inupiat the earliest recorded
discussion of the umialiq's position (Simpson 1855) paints a picture of
much less social inOuence than subsequent sources (e.g., Spencer 1959).
Similarly, among the Chukchis and Siberian Yupiit Acre is indication that
commercial whaling changed the distribution patterns of indigenous whal-
ing harvests. However, while outside change was ubiquitous, it had very
different effects for the individual cases under consideration. While it can
be argued that it triggered a "Big Man" system on the North Slope, its ef-
fects were much more restricted in Chukotka and on St. Lawrence Island.
Since the effects of commercial whaling and of the availability of Eu-
roamerican goods did not differ significantly among those societies (if any-
thing, foreign goods were easier accessible in Chukotka), those different
responses have to be explained otherwise, namely by slightly different
constellations in the soda-cultural constellation from which the changes
became effective.
The Reindeer Chukchi, the pastoral inland dwellers of Chukotka,
have so far hardly been mentioned at all. It is important to note that their
economic system had very different implications in terms of economic and
social stratification. Nomadic pastoralism in general, as a specialized eco-
nomic pursuit highly dependable on other social groups, is inherently eco-
nomically stratified. Under conditions of herd-size maximization (the typi-
cal pastoral mode), there will always rich and poor reindeer borders. This
was clearly the case among late 19th/early 20th century Chukchi reindeer
herders. At the same time, there were hardly any signs of social stratifica-
tion. In contrast to Turkic and Mongolic pastoral groups of Siberia, no in-
ternal ranking of kinship positions ("conical clan") and no political integra-
tion beyond individual camps were visible among Chukchi reindeer herd-
ers. However, "slavery"-mainly in the form of war captives whose descen-
dants were fully incorporated into the local community-have been reported
among the Chukchis prior to the 20th century. These slaves, while not
forming a distinct social class, were necessitated by the expansive nature of
Chukchi reindeer economics during the 18th and 19th centuries. Thus,
Reindeer Chukchi society at the turn of the century was egalitarian in its
socio- political aspects, but stratified economically. The power of rich rein-

206
deer borders was confined to the ability of attracting less affluent members
of the society as labor force.
According to our previous "broad-stroke" scenario, all societies of
the Bering Strait region would fall into the "egalitarian" type. It is possible
to suggest that this was-by and large-the case before the 19th century. Even
in the 20th century this would seem to be the case, at least from a distant or
superficial perspective. However, as demonstrated above, the range of sup-
posedly egalitarian modes of socio-political organization was substantial.
Especially, North Slope Inupiat and Reindeer Chukchi communities did not
comply with the predominant stereotype of egalitarianism. At the same
time, I would argue that these "aberrations" can fully be understood within
a framework that implies continuity of basic cultural principles through
ever- changing economic, environmental, and social conditions. In the
same way as the predominant cultural order did not provide Reindeer
Chukchis with models of social stratification in the course of economic
stratification. North Alaskan Inupiat used the pre-existing potentially dis-
ruptive position of boat captains to tip the fragile equilibrium of egalitarian
structures toward incipient social ranking.

Conclusions and Other Thoughts


One of the possible conclusions from what I just said is to break up
the general label "egalitarian" into a continuum of actual constellations of
inequality. While even ardent supporters of "primitive communism" agree
that "perfect equality" docs not exist (see, e.g., Lee 1990: 236), I would add
that inequality, or better the threat of inequality, is a perennial companion
of human social action. Thus, the really interesting question is not why ine-
quality arises, but why it is seemingly limited to "low-level inequality" in
certain societies. From what was said above, cultural schemes and their dis-
tinct historical transformations must have a lot to do with it. Thus "low-
level inequality" cannot just be defined in negative terms, such as the ab-
sence of rich and predictable resource bases and/or demographic pressure.
While the absence or presence of such external factors is bound to have
soda-cultural consequences, their specific expressions have to be under-
stood within the structural constraints of (socially) internal structures. Thus,
I call for a structural history of soda-political variation, which combines the

207
study of micro-historic changes with the pursuit of a "transformative
grammar" of cognitive structures.
By advancing a largely culturalist approach, the issue whether
boundaries of social systems coincide with cultural/linguistic boundaries
is inevitably brought to the fore. As presented in the section on general
pattern within the North Pacific Rim region, there is somewhat of a fit
from a macro-perspective. As soon as we look at the specifics within a
smaller area, the seeming neatness quickly disappears. In my view, this
does not mean that the approach is wrong. Instead, I think it points to the
effects of social interaction across time and space. Not only does internal
and external change effect areas differently, but interaction among close
and distant neighbors leads to syncretistic reworkings of own and foreign
cultural models. Thus, we also have to confront a topic that has often
been neglected over the last 30 or 40 years: diffusion. While earlier diffu-
sionists (as well as later world-system theorists) have been rightly criti-
cized for conceptualizing diffusion as a purely mechanical process of
transmission, the neglect of such processes can only hinder theoretical
advancements. Time seems ripe for the reconsideration of diffusion as a
complex social process in which the structural compatibility of giving and
receiving cultural systems is of tantamount importance. In addition, of
course, the power difference between receivers and givers cannot be over-
looked (nor can the fact that the spread of material objects is quite distinct
from the spread of cultural concepts). While here is neither the time nor
the place for going into detailed discussion, I want to make the point that
certain aspects of North Pacific Rim soda-political variation could be bet-
ter understood by rehabilitating the once rightly shunned metaphor of dif-
fusion.
Social evolution is a term I hardly mentioned throughout this talk. I
do not deny the overall evolutionary trend of social systems to develop
from simpler to more complex organizational structures. However, at least
for the purpose of the present talk, I believe it to be more important to look
at the internal make-up of these systems. I definitely reject reductionist no-
tions of social evolution that assume that complexity is a mere function of
external factors. On the contrary, since evolutionary change can only be
understood within the context of pre-existing structures, it is the develop-
mental potential of particular soda-cultural systems-under specific external

208
conditions-which are of major interest. Ranking or chiefdoms are not
automatic responses to processes leading to increased social complexity.
They are specific cultural realizations of increasing social complexity,
which have to be understood as a logical sequence to their preceding forms.
In the same vein, neither bilateral kinship nor social leveling mechanisms
can be explained through external conditions not favoring social complex-
ity. Again, they are part of a cultural tool-kit, which can be applied in dif-
ferent circumstances and which can lead to diverse social configurations;
however, there are limits to the models you can build from one particular
kit. And it is exactly those structural limitations of social change that I see
as the most challenging task for a fine-tuned understanding of social evolu-
tion.

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Bourdieu, P. 1990 [1980]. The Logic of Practice. Transl. by R.Nice. Stanford, CA:
Stanford University Press.
Dumond. D.E. 1988. The Alaska Peninsula as Superhighway: A Comment. The Late
Prehistoric Development of Alaska's Native People. Ed. by R.D.Shaw,
R.K.Harritt, and D.E.Dumond. Anchorage: 379-388 (Alaska Anthropological
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210
10

MONOPOLIZATION OF INFORMATION
AND SOCIAL INEQUALITY*

Olga Yu. Artemova

"Origin, emergence or creation of social inequality" traditionally was


and to some extent still is (Haydon 1995) the theme of numerous studies in
human prehistory and social anthropology of pre-state societies . The very
word "origin" or "creation" shows that an investigator takes for granted that
there was such a period in early human evolution when inequality had not
existed: ancient human communities could be imagined as egalitarian and
relations within them could be characterized in terms of "social equality".
At the same time, from the very beginning of studies in social evolution
there did exist scholars who had, a priori, regarded inequality as inherent in
"human nature" (e.g. Maine, or Westermark). Modern studies in sociobiol-
ogy and ethology of primates definitely show that our "nearest relatives" all
have status hierarchy (more or less significant) and so aver that humans in-
herited some forms of hierarchical relations, i.e. social inequality, from
their animal ancestors (Winterhalter, Smith 1992:3-23; Fitzhugh 1998:7).
Therefore, as has been stated by a number of authors, though in different
ways (e.g.: Burch, Ellana 1994:219-21; Schweitzer 1998:1-2), we should
search not for the origin, emergence, or roots of social inequality, but rather
for those factors that could cause a particular concrete form or type of so-
cial inequality and for mechanisms which could shape specific structural
features of hierarchical social systems in human communities. We should
also inquire into the underlying reasons for the development of really egali-

*
The research has been supported by the Russian Ministry of General and Professional
Education (the Language, Culture, Society Program; project # 01.0100.99.F).
211
tarian1 social systems. Egalitarianism is definitely characteristic of some
human communities but it is by no means a given (Schweitzer 1998; see
also Chapter 9 in this book). It is a product of particular evolutionary proc-
esses to the same an extent that various structural forms of social inequality
are.
It is more common for social scientists (and not only for Marxists) to
connect the evolutionary processes by which social inequality is structured
to the spheres of material production and property relations. It is less com-
mon to connect such processes with the sphere of ideology, especially with
the sphere of religious activity (Wason 1998 and this volume). It is very
common to regard the only one posited model or mechanism of such proc-
esses as the original or primary one - be this "delayed return", the activity
of "aggrandizers" or something else (Woodburn 1980; 1982; 1988b Clark,
Blake 1994). My assumption is that various types or displays of social ine-
quality may have been shaped by quite different phenomena. Different
mechanisms of structuring or institutionalization of hierarchical systems
could act in parallel in the same culture or society or could be specific to
particular cultures in particular periods and circumstances. These mecha-
nisms could have their foundations in the sphere of material production and
property relations as well as outside this sphere. For example, in some
Melanesian societies we may find simultaneously: 1) delayed return as a
characteristic feature of the mode of subsistence, universally causing, ac-
cording to Woodburn, institutions of status hierarchy and structured ine-
quality in property relations; 2) the activity of "aggrandizers" (bigmen),
stimulating, according to Clark and Blake, the development of the same in-
stitutions; and 3) complicated ceremonial practices, also producing rank-
ings of status or authority positions. Among Chukchee reindeer herders of
Chukotka we find only the "model" of delayed return and "accumulation of
wealth", while among some Australian hunter-gatherers we find only the
"model" of ceremonial status differentiation. The last case is, in my opin-
1
Unlike the authors of some neo-evolutionist studies (Fried 1967; Service 1975) as
well as the authors of some recent works (e.g. Schweitzer 1998). I use the term
"egalitarian society" in its direct meaning: it is a society in which all the people have
equal access to all material and spiritual values of their culture and have equal per-
sonal freedom, equal opportunities for decision-making. Respectively, the societies to
which this definition does not apply are called "non-egalitarian". The societies of the
Chukchee or the Eskimo sea hunters are egalitarian in Service's or Schweitzer's un-
derstanding and non-egalitarian in mine.
212
ion, especially interesting from the theoretical point of view. It demon-
strates - in the most pure and uncomplicated form - one of the main types
of institutionalized social inequality that is spread all over the world: ine-
quality, which has as its structural foundation and its starting mechanism
the monopolization of special knowledge and occupations (closely con-
nected with ideology) by certain social groups or (sometimes) individuals.
As has been repeatedly cited in the recent anthropological literature,
even among so called "relatively simple" hunter-gatherer societies, various
groups, while having similar life ways and similar modes of subsistence,
displayed essential differences in their systems of social relationships and
organizational structures. Thus, among the Mbuti, the !Kung, the Hadza
and some other African hunters and gatherers, as well as some Asian
groups (e.g. the Palian of South India), relations between the people in lo-
cal communities were almost completely egalitarian; that is, no groups or
individuals were, at least formally, in a superior position to other groups or
other individuals. And even the inevitable, in any social unit , informal
variation in individual prestige or personal influence tended to be leveled
by community attitudes. Moral concepts and the entire socio-psychological
climate in these egalitarian societies consistently blocked any ambitious as-
pirations by individuals. And this, in turn, was connected with the lack of
competition in social life and human activity (Turnbull 1965; Marshall
1976; Lee 1979; Woodburn 1979; 1982; Endicott 1988; Gardner 1965:389-
415; 1991:543-72; Begler 1987 etc.)
Most of the Australian Aborigines, on the contrary, had a system of
social organization which was definitely non-egalitarian.1 There was con-
siderable difference in social status between men and women and also be-
tween the men who composed the group of "elders", on the one hand, and
all others who were not yet included in this group, on the other. And it
seems that, at least in some parts of Aboriginal Australia, not all the men at
a mature or elderly age managed to "enter" the group of "elders", which,
because of that, was not simply an age group in a strict sense. To be in-
cluded, the man had to conform to specific conditions of entry. One man
could get qualified much earlier than another man.

1
Generalizations on Australian Aborigines represent the summary of conclusions made
on the basis of critical analysis of various literary sources in the authors book Per-
sonality and Social norms in Early Primitive Community (Artemova 1987).
213
The "elders" accumulated considerable authority in religious affairs
and in the everyday life of Australian Aboriginal communities. They also
possessed some privileges secured by the rules that regulated distribution
of certain kinds of food (especially valued food) as well as in matrimonial
relations, particulary in the arrangement of marriages (see Keen's descrip-
tion of traditional Yolngu society located in the North-East of the Arnhem
Land Peninsula).

"Control of religious knowledge had been a key element in the political economy of
marriage, country, and ceremony. There was a direct link between religious preroga-
tives and power..." (1997: 300).

Among the elders, there were men of special individual status: ritual
leaders, custodians or guardians of sacred objects and totemic centers, sor-
cerers and "native doctors". Thus, we can say that the Australian Aborigi-
nes definitely had a system of institutionalized authority positions which
represented some kind of hierarchy.
Evidently this system was more developed in certain parts of the
North and the South-East of the continent with a comparatively high origi-
nal density of the population, and was less developed in some arid central
regions with very low population density. In the functioning of this system
an extremely important role was played by the institution of formal ritual-
ized initiation into special secret/sacred knowledge. Only men who have
passed at least the primary stages of initiation into esoteric knowledge con-
nected with religious cults had authority over women and adolescents. The
"elders" were men who have passed all or almost all the stages of such an
initiation. However, certain sections of religious knowledge were reserved
for particular types of religious leaders. "Professional" magicians, sorcerers
and "native doctors" also acquired special esoteric information during spe-
cial kinds of initiation rites.
In some sense, he institute of initiation divided the people in aborigi-
nal society into several status categories. And all of the spiritual heritage
was divided into several sections, some of which was accessible to every-
body, while some was accessible only to those belonging to certain status
categories. The secrecy of esoteric knowledge was guarded by numerous
and multiform taboos, the violation of which incurred severe punishments,
and also by means of a special method which could be called prescribed or
214
sanctioned misinformation. Beckett and Stanner referred to this phenome-
non as "noble lies" (Beckett 1977:xi.) Those who were initiated into the se-
cret affairs deliberately conveyed to outsiders false ideas or notions about
the esoteric sections of their culture. Such a deception, in contrast to ordi-
nary lies, was regarded as a matter of necessity, and considered rightful and
proper behavior as it was perceived as a conditio sine qua non of the suc-
cess of magic rites or totemic cult rituals. At the same time, such prescribed
hallowed deception served as a means to maintain and strengthen the social
supremacy of those who resorted to it and, in some situations, even as a
means of psychological compulsion under which the uninitiated had to
obey the initiated.
Strict secrecy of certain kinds of activity and knowledge as well as
the sanctioned disinformation (or "noble lies" discussed above) had a deep
moral and psychological impact on both the uninitiated and the initiated,
maybe even a greater impact on the latter. They considered themselves to
be the "owners" of "real knowledge" and to be closely connected with the
great mystic supernatural powers capable of influencing the fate of the en-
tire community as well as the fate of separate individuals. Having also the
legal right to spread ("for the common good") false and oversimplified in-
formation (intended for "profane" perception ) among the outsiders, they
inevitably became convinced of their own essential importance, and of the
high social value of their personalities. This sense of superiority gave them
the assurance that they were entitled to certain privileges.
Thus a society without class division, without private property of the
means of production, a society which even didn't produce any material sur-
plus and had "no mechanism for the accumulation of material wealth", (ex-
pression of Woodburn) could nevertheless create rather effective mecha-
nisms of social differentiation in some respects similar to those existing in
so called civilized societies where certain social groups had a monopoly of
certain sections of information and especially prestigious occupations. So,
apparently, to create such mechanisms, it is not necessary to pass a long
way of development of productive economy. It appears that the monopoli-
zation of special knowledge and occupations per se was a powerful force
that structured and shaped social inequality. And, in connection with this, it
seems to be incorrect to extend, as is sometimes done, the notion of "prop-
erty" to the sphere of religious rites and ideas accessible only to limited

215
contingents of people (Woodburn 1988b). Such an extension, as well as the
attempt to connect the concept of delayed return with the economic system
of the Australian Aborigines (Woodburn 1980), in a certain sense, obscures
the very important point that various types or displays of social inequality
may have their roots in quite different phenomena.
In conditions of a nomadic hunter-gatherer way of life social ine-
quality could scarcely take more complicated and more developed forms
than it had among Australian Aborigines. Perhaps this was so not because
of the absence of more sophisticated technologies in the subsistence sphere,
(the absence of material surplus and so on), but, what seems more likely,
simply because of the low population density and small numbers of com-
munity members. Maybe just for this reason, the above named mechanisms
of status differentiation especially affected gender relations among the Aus-
tralian Aborigines. There seems to be an impression that similar situation
existed in traditional context in some hunter-gatherer societies of Aborigi-
nal America. For example, among the Ona of Terra del Fuego, who had
ceremonial lodges and secret rituals with limited membership or participa-
tion (first of all, women were excluded – Cooper n.d.: 107-25).
The questions why various groups of hunters and gatherers while
having the same mode of subsistence nevertheless created different systems
of social relations; why in some hunter-gatherer societies monopolization
of socially important information and hierarchy of institutionalized author-
ity positions developed while in the others it did not; why, to the contrary,
in some societies the mechanisms of so called social leveling had been cre-
ated - all these questions are very complicated, and, in spite of a number of
special investigations, seem to be still unresolved.
Undoubtedly, egalitarianism of the above mentioned African and
Asian hunters and gatherers and non-egalitarianism of Australian Aborigi-
nes are caused by a complicated system of various factors. But, it appears
that one of the most important factors is the degree of intensity of social
life - collective cult practices and intergroup (intercommunity) contacts, in
particular. In none of the above mentioned egalitarian societies were these
spheres of activity so complicated and so ramified as they were in tradi-
tional societies of Australian Aborigines in the North, East and South-East.
Prolonged, complex and versatile religious ceremonies which often formed
elaborate cycles, traditional corrobories with numerous participants from

216
various communities, a ramified system of intergroup ceremonial ex-
changes the networks of which covered vast areas of the continent, com-
paratively frequent warfare among neighboring groups who on such occa-
sions formed special parties of warriors (revenge expeditions) - all this de-
manded rather close social ties between the people, rather clear-cut struc-
tural principles of group composition and certain organizational efforts as
well. Where the people were divided into active and passive participants,
where leaders and organizers of collective social activity came to the fore,
rules or norms of subordination were formed. These norms in turn progres-
sively affected current social life in all its spheres including economy.
To paraphrase C. and R. Berndts, it is especially significant what
people do outside the sphere of necessity (1977:519). Among the Aborigi-
nes, the overwhelming proportion of activity spent outside the "sphere of
necessity" was taken up with their religious cults and other spiritual occu-
pations. We often underestimate what a powerful factor for the so called
non-utilitarian activity is for the entire social development. Engagement in
these activities appears to be one of the main psychological requirements of
human beings. It is not, as a rule, demanded by the real needs of current life
but, in the end, it leads people out to new levels of cultural achievements
(Asmolov 1984).
Intensive spiritual activity and joint elaborate religious practices
gave the Aborigines opportunities to develop and accumulate a rich intel-
lectual and spiritual heritage. At the same time, these occupations gave
them the means to create hierarchical relationships and mechanisms of so-
cial differentiation.
The essential conditions that favored relatively intense social life,
and collective religious practices, in particular among the Australian Abo-
rigines, were relatively permissive ecological situation in many parts of the
country, and the availability of vast spaces of land where people of various
bands could travel to contact each other without fear of more powerful hu-
man enemies. Other hunter-gatherer societies under consideration didn't
have such a combination of conditions. However, it is hardly possible to
reduce all the causes of the differences in the intensity of social life be-
tween hunters and gatherers under consideration to geographical, ecologi-
cal factors and factors of social and cultural environment (encapsulation of

217
or isolation from alien cultures). Apparently all these factors do not give an
exhaustive explanation, whether we consider them separately or jointly.1
Different peoples create different cultures not only because of living
in different environments (natural and cultural) - and having different his-
torical backgrounds, but also for other complicated and predominantly un-
clear reasons that are partly connected with the largely uninvestigated
sphere of psychological phenomena. Figuratively speaking, each culture, as
each man or each woman, has his or her own individuality which develops
under the influence of many varied factors (some of them possibly not sub-
ject to scientific definition).
I am far from thinking that if the !Kung or the Palian in some fantas-
tic way were put in the same environment as Australian Aborigines, they
would produce the same system of social relations. I also don't think that
Australian Aborigines, on the one hand, and the Mbuti, the Hadza or the
Palian, on the other, represent different stages of human evolution. I am
rather prone to regard the egalitarianism of the latter as well as non-
egalitarianism of the former as the results of their own specific and very
long traditions of cultural development.
None of these cultures creates the background for generalized or
universalized retrospection into the deep past. But, perhaps, some general
considerations may be suggested. Powerful and prestigious closed corpora-
tions which have a monopoly on certain social knowledge may develop or
may not develop in societies with the same mode of subsistence or mode of
production (or belonging to the same socio-economic formation). At the
same time, such corporations may exist in societies of quite different types
- with different modes of subsistence - whatever typology is used: among
foraging hunters and gatherers or among shifting agriculturists as well as in
modern industrial societies with class relations or in those which tried to
eliminate classes and private property of means of production, as it was in
the former Soviet Union. The Communist Party, in the whole, and its Central
Committee, in particular, represent excellent examples.
The existence of powerful closed corporations which monopolize
some important knowledge very often correlates with the obvious differ-
ence in gender statuses. As such corporations tend to emerge in quite dif-

1
This is very convincingly shown by Woodburn in the above named publications and
in: (Woodburn 1988a).
218
ferent historical and socio-economic circumstances, it is possible to sup-
pose that their existence is deeply connected with some socio-
psychological phenomena which cross-cut the boundaries of cultures, ep-
ochs, continents, civilizations, socio-economic formations and so on. And,
maybe, these corporations are more often the monopoly of males (and cor-
relate with low or not high female status) because such institutions are cre-
ated predominantly through the processes of male activities, responding to
some psychological needs that are characteristic precisely of men?

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220
11

RELIGION, COMMUNICATION, AND THE


GENESIS OF SOCIAL COMPLEXITY IN THE
EUROPEAN NEOLITHIC

Paul K. Wason and Maximilian O. Baldia

Religion is important in the lives of most people of the world today.


It has also been important throughout history, and not just to private indi-
viduals, as modern subjectivism would have it, but also to culture and the
social order. We are all well aware of this. Yet, as scholars, we have not
always taken full advantage of these basic and obvious facts. Religion, if
noticed at all in grand theories, is often cast as an after-the-fact justification
for a social situation. Communication is, if anything, an even more basic
and pervasive fact of human existence. In this case we do recognize its im-
portance, we study it with care, and unlike religion, we often make use of
communication in our theories, even if mainly just as an enabler or inhibitor
for the real causal variables.
We propose, however, that both aspects of culture were more impor-
tant in the genesis of social complexity than is usually recognized. We first
outline how religion might have been causally important in the origins and
institutionalization of leadership, then suggest how religion and communi-
cation might fit into the "dual-processual" model of socio-cultural evolu-
tion recently proposed by Feinman, Blanton, Kowalewski, and Peregrine
(Feinman 1995; Blanton et. al. 1996). Consider first the argument for relig-
ion.

221
Religion and the Institutionalization of Leadership
It is during the Neolithic that we see the development, or at least the
expansion and institutionalization,1 of social inequality and complex soci-
ety throughout much of Europe. This period is also characterized by exten-
sive monument building. These projects include a range of burial mounds,
enclosures, henges and stone circles. Often there is a great emphasis on rit-
ual structures, though there are also some apparently defensive structures
from the Neolithic.
These structures, at least the largest of them, can be used by archae-
ologists as evidence of leadership and inequality. But in many cases they
were religious monuments and it may be that people were inspired to build
them at least as much to satisfy ritual needs as because of the leaders' desire
to enhance or show off their power. Explanations which concern power or
which emphasize economics and environment as the fundamental movers
of social change, come easy to 20th Century scholars (Gazin-Schwartz
1997:764), particularly in the U.S. A. And we find ourselves as likely to
ignore religious devotion as an explanation, as to embrace money and
power.
There are deep roots to this. Observers of American culture, like
Stephen Carter or Christopher Lasch remark on our pervasive underappre-
ciation of the importance of religion, and in our media-soaked world we are
continually given to believe that if religion has any impact on public af-
fairs, it is one of dissention and backwardness (Carter 1993, Lasch 1995).2
If this were a true characterization of religion, it could not possibly be
taken seriously as a positive influence in social development. But it is not.
Luttwak traces it to Enlightenment thinking, observing that "even as the

1
Based on extensive ethnographic study and analysis, Olga Artemova (1998 and per-
sonal communication 1998) argues that there is no early, or initial egalitarian form of
life. There is evidence of inequality in the paleolithic and among the most seemingly
non-complex living peoples, and where we do see egalitarian social organization, it
has developed out of unequal societies and not vise versa. To the extent that this accu-
rately describes the prehistory of Europe, then the Neolithic does not represent the
first inequality, but rather an expansion, or perhaps an institutionalization, of what
was previously more a matter of informal personal relations. One of the authors has
previously suggested that it is unlikely that any humans have lived under truly equal
conditions, but that structural inequality is of a different character from individual ap-
praisals (Wason 1994:1).
2
See also Marsden 1994; 1997; Johnston 1994:5; Wason 1997; Wood et. al. 1993. For
an appreciative although ultimately critical review of Carter, see Wason 1994a.
222
Enlightenment swept away clerical obscurantism and discredited all ascrip-
tive dogma, it imposed its own restrictive prejudice on the scope and con-
tent of scholarship" (Luttwak 1994:9).
Anthropology has the potential to work against this trend, for we
have always recognized that religion, economy, political life, indeed all as-
pects of culture are deeply intertwined, and we have successfully docu-
mented the position that religion is of nearly universal importance in peo-
ple's lives, in cultures, and in the social order. Yet it is common for anthro-
pologists to try rather to explain religion away than to use it as an explana-
tion for something else. When has it ever been argued that the real purpose
of the economy is to help people live out their religion? Yet when it seems
that religion might itself be influential, anthropologists explain it as really
something else. At first glance the deference given to ahimsa in India
would seem to be an example of the importance of religion to the economy,
but in Marvin Harris' hands, sacred cattle are really a matter of religiously
justified economics (Harris 1979; see Rappaport 1968 for another exam-
ple). Religion is not useless after all, but it is not religion either.
It is no surprise then that religion rarely plays a significant role in
theories of the development of complex society. Indeed, we have not yet
succeeded in uncovering even one example of an explanation for the gene-
sis of social complexity in which religion plays a causative role (though
there may be theories of this sort, and we would love to know about them).
In their helpful reviews of approaches to the emergence of complex soci-
ety, Hayden and Gargett (1990) and Earle (1997) uncover a fascinating
range of proposed causal factors. Religion, however, is not among them.
One fundamental division among theories concerns what leadership
accomplishes. The first perspective, the functionalist or adaptationist, em-
phasizes that while 'emergent' elites do accumulated wealth, status and
power, more importantly, they provided some direct benefit to the commu-
nity. Theories vary considerably, however, in what benefits they empha-
size, which include such things as construction and management of irriga-
tion facilities, redistribution of resources, or the management of informa-
tion need to coordinate community activities. The second perspective, the
political model, argues that elites gained power at the expense of others
through exploitation rather than usefulness.

223
We do not propose religion as an alternative but rather as a comple-
mentary explanation. It is worth reviewing Hayden and Gargett's own
model to show both what we mean by a religious explanation and how it
can be complementary to existing models. Among a number of historically
known "egalitarian" peoples, ownership is not tolerated

"nor is any individualistic behavior tolerated that might be construed as threatening


the sharing ethic critical to everyone's survival. Any attempts to establish… hierar-
chical relationships… are highly criticized and nipped in the bud" (Hayden and Gar-
gett 1990:4-5).

With powerful cultural factors inhibiting overt expressions of leadership or


inequality, how did social complexity get started, and how did it become
institutionalized? They found that this egalitarian social organization and
ethos correlates with a "generalized" hunter-gatherer subsistence, and when
the subsistence emphasis changes, particularly through "development of
high yielding resources that are not vulnerable to overexploitation"
(1990:5), then pressure to remain egalitarian is relaxed, since it is no longer
essential for survival.
This makes very good sense. However, it is quite limited as an an-
swer to why leadership and inequality developed. An adaptive change
might well be an essential condition for the development of inequality, but
it would not be an active cause. There will need to be some motivation for
such a radical change in how people view relations among their fellow hu-
mans. Hayden and Gargett suggest that human nature is such that there is a
natural tendency toward inequality. Timothy Earle argues similarly, that
"Not all individuals may want to dominate, but individuals who wish
prominence exist within all human populations" (1997:2).
This, too, is perfectly plausible, but one element remains missing, the
context needed to draw out this leadership tendency in an approved, or at
least tolerated way. While there may well be naturally ambitious individu-
als in every population, it is quite unlikely that everyone else in the popula-
tion would be inclined to allow this ambition free reign and willingly be-
come a lower status person. This returns us to the aspect of the problem
most traditional theorists seek to explain; how do developing leaders gain
power in the face of opposition; how do they convince others to follow. We
propose that in some cases leaders arose in the midst of a group effort to

224
accomplish essentially religious ends. The monument complex at Avebury,
in Wiltshire, England, provides a good example of the significance of relig-
ion in the development and institutionalization of leadership and hierarchy.

Religion and Social Complexity at Avebury


The Avebury complex is a magnificent group of Neolithic monu-
ments built over some 1,500 years. West Kennet long barrow was built
around 3700 BC. The Avebury henge is a circular ditch with outer mound
and stone circle within, built between 2,600 and 2,300 BC. At roughly 332
meters in diameter, the main stone circle is the largest in the world (Ucko
et. al. 1991:1, Pitts 1994). The great earthen mound of Silbury Hill is the
largest artificial mound in all of Europe. It was built in three continuous
phases over the same time period as the henge. These massive construc-
tions provide clear evidence of leadership and social inequality. It is esti-
mated that the henge itself required 1.5 million, and Silbury Hill 18 million
hours of labor. These are just estimates, but in principle they represent em-
pirical observations. These are "monumental" constructions by anyone's
definition, and it must have taken sustained leadership, and thus social ine-
quality, for their construction (Renfrew 1973; Atkinson 1960; 1961:299).
Rather than review here the logical basis for this important and long
established line of argument,1 consider for the moment how these figures
compare with Hawaiian temple building. Hawaiian society was character-
ized by substantial social hierarchy with an important religious component
to the leader's status. It is also well known for the great monument building
they undertook. In a study of changing religious and political authority,
Kolb worked out labor calculations for the temples of East and West Maui.
The largest temple in all of Hawaii, Pi'ilanihale required about 130,000 la-
bor days (Kolb 1994:525). The labor estimate Renfrew provides for the
Avebury henge is at least 150,000 days (figuring 10 hour days); that is,
more than the largest temple every built by the complex hierarchical socie-
ties of Hawaii. Kolb's calculation for all temples in East and West Maui for
all phases of his 600 year period was just under 275,000 labor days. Silbury

225
Hill comes out at 1,800,000 labor days or more than six times the total la-
bor for all of the building phases of all of the temples on East and West
Maui together. It becomes hard to imagine that the people of Neolithic
Wiltshire would put in 6.5 times that much total effort into one project
without some inspiring leadership.
Another important fact is that these are all religious monuments.
These monuments indicate an emphasis on communal activity, and reli-
gious ritual in particular. There is a tendency to view their religious charac-
ter and purpose as incidental to the "primary" factors of leadership and mo-
bilization of resources. But we need not assume that because it took leaders
to organize the building, the monuments must have been built as a means
for these leaders to show off. Indeed, throughout this time we have no di-
rect evidence of personal ranking, no other evidence of ranking or of lead-
ership, apart from the monuments. Given that they are religious in nature
and purpose, and the only evidence we have of leadership and status, it is at
least as reasonable to conclude that they were built primarily to accomplish
essentially religious ends.
This is supported by the fact that, over more than 1,500 years, all
evidence of group activity in the Avebury area during the Neolithic is also
religious. During the era of the barrows there is evidence of community ac-
tivity, an emphasis on ritual and possibly some evidence of leadership and
inequality. In this earlier phase as much as the later, the emphasis on ritual
structures points to a close connection among leadership, hierarchy and re-
ligion.
People disagree on when we first see leadership and hierarchy. Per-
haps it developed at the time of the barrows. Barrett, however, argues that
even the major monuments of the era of the henge and hill only led to de-
velopment of leadership but did not depend on it (Barrett 1994). Barrett
reminds us that taken all together, the monuments we now see in the Ave-
bury landscape were built over a very great span of time and could not have
constituted a grand plan conceived by a leader from the start (1994:13).
This becomes his major reason for saying there is much less evidence of
ranking and leadership than we might think. He concludes that these

1
For an excellent discussion of drawing social inferences from monumental construc-
tion, see Abrams 1989. See also Wason 1994 for a summary and additional refer-
ences.
226
monuments are each, individually, the result of communal effort, but that
once built they served to create and enhance hierarchy and central leader-
ship. He speaks disparagingly of those who propose the work of a great
chief as the mastermind of the construction but observes that the use of the
monuments is another matter; the

"elite did not simply initiate the building of Avebury… but [were], indeed, created
out of the realization of these projects" (Barrett 1994:29).

There are two problems with this, first the logical objection of why
they would build a structure that presupposes hierarchy for its proper use if
those who built it did not already accept an ideology of personal hierarchi-
cal differentiation, and second, the previously mentioned difficulty of
imagining projects of this magnitude without leadership and therefore so-
cial inequality.
Yet a modified version of Barrett's point is very interesting, for once
built, the monuments would have reinforced and enhanced the status of
leaders, thereby entrenching and deepening the hierarchical system. And it
is entirely possible that it was the need for ritual space for their religion that
called forth the leadership talent. Leadership became accepted and accept-
able in the context of building religious structures of importance to the
whole group. If we are correct in concluding that the monuments were built
for essentially religious purposes, it could be said that status hierarchy and
leadership developed as a by-product of something done for religious rea-
sons. Religion and its demands on people would therefore have been an
important causal factor in the development of leadership. That is, religion
inspired the monument building which in turn called upon, helped to ex-
pand, and eventually helped to institutionalize leadership. For some time all
evidence we have of leadership or social hierarchy remains deeply con-
nected with religion. Religion was a genuine, perhaps even a central causal
factor in the development of social hierarchy, and in the institutionalization of
leadership at Avebury.
Returning to an earlier point, if in every group there are some who
are gifted in leadership, what is needed for leadership and inequality to de-
velop is something to draw out and make use of those skills in the face of
opposition, and something to institutionalize what might otherwise be ad
hoc differentiation and direction. As Hayden and Gargett point out, an
227
"egalitarian" view of the world must be overcome and a prerequisite is the
relaxing of any selection pressures favoring survival of egalitarian behav-
ior. A religious project, one done for the common good, through leadership
which helped people accomplish what most of them wanted to accomplish,
would provide the missing motivational piece. Such a project would be a
means of overcoming the tendency to nip aspiring leaders in the bud. What
one would need is a change in religion such that it gave rise to a need for
complex and labor expensive contexts for ritual. The building of these
monuments drew on and drew out, if you will, leadership skills, but once
built, their very existence, along with the ceremonies held there, reinforced
and so helped to institutionalize leadership and ranking. Leadership and so-
cial acceptance of inequality may well have developed in the process of ac-
complishing what were originally religious ends, the building of monu-
ments to accomplish religious purposes.
Interestingly, the subsequent Bronze Age is different. Most corporate
energy, and all leadership activity we have evidence of in the Avebury area
before the Bronze Age was devoted to ceremonial structures, and the rituals
performed there. Until the advent of the Bronze age, there is little evidence
of wealth accumulation, of personal status differentiation (except for reli-
gious leaders) or of warfare. But there appears to have been a dramatic shift
in the Early Bronze Age toward a more network, exclusionary, or central-
ized pattern which shows far less concern for ritual structures and far more
interest in personal wealth and aggrandizement (Malone 1989; Thomas
1990; Castledon 1987; Renfrew 1973). All construction of religious
monuments ceased except for burial mounds, and these were characterized
by individual interments with indications of the accumulation of wealth.
This may relate to the development of social stratification instead of or
perhaps in the very nature of the transition to a more network-oriented
strategy. It may also represent a secularization process as leadership, so
long connected with religion and perhaps arising as a by-product of relig-
ion, is consolidated and as it begins to stand on its own apart from religion.

228
Religion, Communication and Models of Socio-Cultural Evolution
We are not suggesting that other, more commonly used variables are
unimportant. Far from it. But the exploration of religion and also commu-
nication as significant causal variables has much potential. As a first step
we sketch out two examples in the context of the dual-processual model for
socio-cultural evolution" proposed recently -- the northern and southern
manifestations of TRB Culture.
Feinman, Blanton, Kowalewski, and Peregrine (Feinman 1995;
1998a; 1998b; Blanton et. al. 1996) distinguish two political-economic
strategies representing alternative pathways toward inequality and the insti-
tutionalization of leadership. In the corporate strategy, developing leader-
ship is focussed on directing community activities, including rituals, while
in the network strategy they emphasize, and draw their power from, a net-
work of interrelations with other communities. This distinction is meant
primarily as a "comparative measure" and not as a new set of societal types.
Feinman (1998a) has recently provided a very helpful comparative list of
corporate and network features.

Network Emphasis Corporate Emphasis


Concentrated wealth More even wealth distribution
Ostentatious elite adornment Symbols of office
Princely burials Monumental ritual space
Individual power Shared power relationships
Ostentatious consumption More balanced accumulation
Prestige goods Control of knowledge, cognitive codes
Patronage-client factions Corporate labor systems
Attached specialization Emphasis on food production
Wealth finance Staple finance
Lineal kinship systems Segmentary organization
Personal glorification Concern with fertility and cult

The network strategy is likely to result in greater centralization


(Blanton et. al. 1996) but we should not view it as more hierarchical, and
the corporate strategy as more egalitarian (Feinman 1998b).1 Indeed, an

1
The corporate strategy of leadership emphasizes group activities, and this can take
any of a number of forms. Wills (1998) for example, argues that leadership in Chaco
Canyon (New Mexico) was of a corporate character emphasizing "integrative archi-
tecture," that is, the construction of the group dwellings. This construction was an
229
emphasis on one strategy or the other could characterize societies at any
level of hierarchical elaboration. We find this model particularly useful in
drawing out the significance of religion and communication in socio-
cultural evolution.1

Corporate and Network Strategies in the TRB


The TRB makes an interesting case. And because of the central place
of TRB Culture in the development of social complexity in Europe, it is an
important case. There is reason to believe corporate and network strategies
received different emphases in different regions within this one culture
area. In addition, it is likely that the relative influence of religion and com-
munication were causal factors in this regional difference. In the northern
TRB we can discern an emphasis on corporate strategies with much of the
evidence for inequality being related to religion, while in the southern TRB
a recognizable emphasis on network strategies can be related to an exten-
sive communication network. In the southern area there is at the same time
less evidence of social energies being focused on religion.
The Funnel Beaker culture or TRB ranged from western Ukraine to
the Netherlands and from the Czech Republic to southern Norway (Midg-

immensely grand and energy-intensive project, particularly because of the large num-
ber of trees needed and how far people had to transport them. This construction is the
clearest evidence of leadership available to archaeology for Chaco, Wills argues. In
contrast, in the Avebury area of England virtually all the evidence we have of leader-
ship and hierarchy was focused on construction of religious-ritual monuments and
presumably also the ceremonies that used them. In Feinman's terms, Avebury experi-
enced a very strong corporate focus from the era of the barrows when hierarchy and
leadership was minimal and possibly not yet institutionalized, consistently through
the era of the henge and hill which provide clear evidence of a very effective and
probably institutionally ingrained leadership and hierarchical system.
1
George Cowgill has recently warned that although this model is very useful, in the
current rush to see our favorite societies in these terms it can be overdone ("every-
thing looks like a nail if you've just discovered hammers"), and in particular, while it
brings out new characteristics not emphasized by classic neo-evolutionary typologies,
it is still a dichotomous model. "This," he observes, "may lighten the hearts of Levi-
Straussian structuralists discussing us," but will not do justice to the diversity of so-
cial forms known (Cowgill 1998). Nevertheless, like any other model (and not neces-
sarily in opposition to neo-evolutionary approaches) it is useful and provides a par-
ticularly convenient way of drawing out the significance of religion and communica-
tion in socio-cultural evolution.
230
ley 1992).1 The earliest TRB burials are simple graves, only some of which
were covered by tiny mounds (Ebbesen 1988). By 300 years later, simple
graves and wooden chambers were gradually joined by small megalithic
chambers in the north, but simple graves continue throughout the TRB. At
the same time in the north, the first causewayed enclosures emerge. Wheels
and wagons appear in the archaeological record and tombs may align along
prehistoric roads and intersections in the wider vicinity of the causewayed
enclosures (Baldia 1998; Bakker 1976; 1991).
Causewayed enclosures, like those at Saarup are generally consid-
ered ritual structures (Andersen 1992; see also Edmonds 1993; Bradley
1993; Midgley et. al. 1993). Madsen and Andersen argue that the enclosure
was a central meeting site that brought together the people from the dis-
perse villages and their associated megalithic tomb clusters for religious
purposes. The end of megalithic tomb construction is uncertain and may
vary from place to place. Skaarup believes construction of the estimated
25,000 Danish tombs ended around 3200/3100 B.C., well before the close
of the TRB at 2900/2800 BC (Skaarup 1990:75; 1993:104). At about the
same time some Danish causewayed enclosures may have become central-
ized villages. In the north, towards the end of the TRB, we see a fortified
village at Spodsbjerg (Skaarup 1985). While there was trade and communi-
cation within the TRB and with its immediate neighbors by means of
wheeled vehicles and canoe, after 3000 BC interregional communication
reaches a new level. Connections may have involved the Near East and
Black sea (Primas 1996:110-112).
In the North Group, between extensive tomb building and enclo-
sures, we see considerable ceremonial architecture, though nothing like
Avebury or Silbury Hill is to be found in continental Europe. In Moravia,
however, we find a series of fortified hilltop sites suggesting that Moravian

1
The early date for the Sarnowo long-mound (Bakker et al. 1969; Midgley 1985; 1992)
is of questionable quality and stems from a feature that predates the mound construc-
tion (Baldia 1995; Fischer 1987; Jankowska and Wis'lan'ski 1991). This is also the
case for the Barkaer long-mound dates reported by Liversage (1992), which predate
the normal range of the TRB's Early Neolithic II (EN II) pottery found in the graves.
The Jättegraven date from the partially excavated long-mound in Kryköpinge, Skеne
also predates this pottery (Larsson 1994). The widely varying Polish Јupawa dates
(Midgley 1985) indicate that they are highly anomalous (Baldia 1995), while they are
also thought to belong to the EN II (Jankowska 1980, 1994a 1994b). The EN II starts
around 3600/3400 BC.
231
leaders had a different power base and emphasis. Prominent among these
sites is Rmiz, which sports the earliest stone walls in Central and North
Europe. Its stones are occasionally of megalithic proportions. Devotion of
effort to these walls may imply a greater need for defense at the southern
fringes of the TRB than in the north, where people put their energies into
the construction of causewayed enclosures. Likewise, while the Scandina-
vian enclosures, such as Sarup, were only later used as residential areas,
Rmiz starts out as a massively fortified settlement site. Its earliest construc-
tion is a 9.4 ha inner core protected by stone and ditch enclosure with a to-
tal area of 17 ha protected by an outer palisade and ditch. The site contin-
ued in use and people even added a new rampart, while at the same time an
apparently unfortified copper production site was built only 400m away,
but below the hill (Smid, In Press).
As in the north, the Moravian "central sites" are associated with tu-
muli and long-barrows, though we see no real megalithic tomb develop-
ment in the south. The stone faced rampart of Rmiz demonstrates that the
TRB South Group had the ability to construct megalithic architecture, but
lacked an interest in constructing huge megalithic tombs, such as those of
the north. Their energies were instead focused on copper production and
trade with the Mondsee culture of Austria to the southwest and the TRB in
the north (Baldia in press). The line of communication is studded by strate-
gically located hilltop sites. The greatest site density is near Rmiz, where
three of the earliest fortified sites occur within a few kilometers of each
other, guarding the valley system to Olomouc and the Moravian Gate.
Taken together, these elaborate fortifications, the site density, the number
and nature of the tombs, copper smelting, are all indications of an emphasis
on a network strategy.
In the northern TRB leaders pursued a strategy with a substantially
corporate emphasis as indicated by extensive monumental ritual architec-
ture, ritual bog offerings, a more balanced wealth distribution, likely con-
trol of ritual knowledge and associated feasting, that legitimized the ances-
tral connections of its leadership. The marvelously shaped stone ground
battle axes and mace heads have always been viewed as status symbols and
were perhaps symbols of office. Imported copper and the rare association
of gold with burials may, however suggest some emphasis on personal
status and therefore perhaps a mixed strategy that included some network

232
emphasis. Trade and communication were not unknown, and clearly the
emphasis differed in how social energies were used, the projects people
were led to undertake.
By contrast, the southern TRB evolved locally or intruded into an
area where the old farming communities of the Bandkeramik had built
causewayed enclosures, usually interpreted as ritual centers and possibly
hinting at a more corporate focus in this earlier period. The longstanding
copper trade in the south probably focused on a network emphasis. The en-
igmatic enclosure of Makorasi, near Prague is the only southern site
thought to have had ritual function, but it also indicates trade across the
mountains with the Bavarian Altheim culture (Pleinerova 1981). The re-
maining sites, ranging from Halle-Dцlauer Heide to those in Moravia ap-
pear to be fortifications. The long stonewall with its double ditches at
Rmiz, together with two tomb clusters, one of which consists of 58 tumuli
and long-mounds, suggest a different social order from that in the north.
The large number of copper finds at Hlinsko, together with its "cobbled"
fieldstone road, that lead through the earth wall of the hilltop site, suggests
an early concentration of wealth (Baldia in press; Podborsky et. al. 1993).
The position of the fortified sites suggests control of the trade and commu-
nication system.

Conclusions
It is evident that both corporate and network strategies can be found
in the European Neolithic. The relative emphases placed on group ritual, or
on communication networks, early in the development of inequality may
have affected which course was emphasized in a particular area. It is not
clear how far we can generalize from the Avebury example to roughly con-
temporary TRB on the Continent, or to other examples of the genesis of so-
cial complexity, but it is at least plausible that in the northern areas, relig-
ion played a significant causal role in the development and consolidation of
leadership, while in the south, communication was a more important causal
factor. These differences early on would, in turn, affect the development of
inequality and the varying character of Neolithic complex society from
place to place.
The Moravian sites in particular need further research to permit more
detailed comparison with research in northern Europe. The Rmiz area is

233
poised to add significantly to the corpus of knowledge about the processes
at work in the evolution of human social organization (Smid 1998). Its par-
ticular contribution will be to the growth of chiefdoms within a matrix of
rapid and momentous technical innovations. These included metalworking,
wheeled transport and monumental architecture. The social strains induced
perhaps by competition in copper production, and perhaps also by a histori-
cal legacy of intercommunity rivalries, is clearly seen in the routine fortifi-
cation of hilltop settlements. The need for warlike leaders would have been
an important mechanism for establishing hereditary leaders. Rmiz stands at
the root of the processes that generated those warlike chieftainships across
northern Europe at the dawn of history.

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237
Part Three

THE STATE FORMATION

238
12

ON THE EMERGENCE OF STATES

Aidan Southall

Consideration of rival theories suggests that they arise partly from


the fact that some have focused on extremely early stages of state forma-
tion, as being more significant for understanding of how states arose, while
others focused on much later stages, as well as later historical eras. Claes-
sen and Skalnik (1978) distinguished inchoate, typical and transitional
early states as working hypotheses. The segmentary state (Southall, 1956,
1988, 1992) conforms most nearly to the inchoate state, but Claessen con-
sidered the segmentary state as I defined it not a state at all.
The segmentary state is a polity in which the spheres of ritual suze-
rainty and political sovereignty do not coincide. The former extends widely
towards a flexible, changing periphery. The latter is confined to the central,
core domain. Several levels of subordinate foci may be distinguished, or-
ganized pyramidally (Southall, 1965:126).
There is an ideological difference between those who consider the
state as an institution primarily beneficial to human kind and those who
consider it primarily exploitative, while some maintain a neutral view
(Cohen, 1981:87). If the earliest states arose endogenously, the question
arises why people living relatively independent lives, free of coercive or
exploitative institutions would have accepted the imposition of exploitation
and coercion upon them. Godelier (1978) explained that domination and
exploitation arose durably in formerly classless societies because they pre-
sented themselves as an exchange of services, rendered by dominant indi-
viduals, involving invisible realities and forces controlling (as they
thought) the reproduction of the universe and of life; the monopoly of the
means ( to us imaginary) of reproduction of the universe and of life must
have preceded the monopoly of the visible means of production (loc.
239
cit:767). Hence the priority of the ritual phase. The ordinary folk of class-
less pre-state societies encouraged the development of ritual and symbolic
leadership, which they valued highly, did not find oppressive and became
thoroughly dependent upon. They were thus deceived, or deceived them-
selves, into encouraging the development of leadership up to the point at
which it was able to acquire coercive powers which made it then too late
for people to object or escape. They had unwittingly welcomed the slow
rise of the state around and above them, until they no longer had any choice
and had lost the power to reject it.
Historically many states were created by conquest, but the very earli-
est, pristine states cannot possibly have arisen by conquest, but only
through internal, endogenous processes of the kind referred to above. To
understand this process it is necessary to grasp and appreciate the impor-
tance of the long ritual phase in the development of leadership and society.
It is fundamental to realize that the people made massive material contribu-
tions to their leaders voluntarily, long before the latter, with their kinfolk
and core supporters, developed a vested interest in increasing and enforcing
them. At this point the monopoly of the imaginary means of production and
ritual sanctions gradually turned into political sanctions.
Political sanctions enabled the state to centralize, but the notion of
centralization is often used in an ambiguous or misleading way. Many
scholars have centralized vision. They only know the view from the centre
and have never effectively visited the periphery. Most formal Western
definitions (Laski and Maciver in political science and sociology, Nadel in
anthropology) assume that the state is centralized, that it is internally su-
preme, with a monopoly of the use of legitimate force throughout the well
demarcated territory that it claims and controls. The assumption arose from
the megalomania of monarchs and heads of state and from real improve-
ment in methods of control based upon increasing social and economic in-
tegration, with improved weaponry, communications and technology gen-
erally. Hence the need for the complementary notion of the segmentary
state. It is possible for a state to be more or less centralized in different
parts of its organization: its polity, economy, legal system, or religion. But
unless qualified, centralization must mean thorough political centralization
as noted above. That the state has a number of specialized officials and in-
stitutions at its centre by no means implies that it is really centralized, for

240
these institutions may operate in a segmentary fashion. The institutional-
ized anti-fission capacity emphasized by Cohen (1981:87-115) is certainly
a vital instrument of centralization, but I would see it as important to the
maintenance of the state once formed, rather than an indispensable element
in the emergence of the state. The perspective of people at the centre and
people at the periphery, or in regions in between, and their conceptions of
the state and its boundaries may be radically different and sharply con-
tested. The long ritual phase which I have emphasized lent itself to segmen-
tary rather than centralized forms of the state. It may be that comparatively
few states have been effectively centralized, however vociferously this was
claimed by their spokesmen at the centre.
It is likely that the very earliest states arose in the core areas of hu-
man civilization (the one entailed the other). Once formed, cultural, eco-
nomic, military and political interaction and influence grew more intense
over the centuries, both within the original core and beyond it, leading to
developmental changes in processes and institutions, so that such states in-
evitably became eventually secondary rather than intrinsically pristine in
their characteristics. We may never know which the earliest states were,
nor be able to establish their main characteristics with confidence. The pris-
tine states of Sumeria, such as Uruk, may be as close to a knowledge of the
pristine state as we can get.
Renfrew has added an extremely important clarification of peer pol-
ity process (Renfrew and Cherry 1986). Most early states were probably
not in isolation; there were several autonomous political centres in a given
region, but not within the same jurisdiction. Such clusters of autonomous
yet culturally similar polities are often termed a civilization. The number of
polities in such civilizational clusters seems to vary roughly around ten.
Ancient Etruria supposedly consisted of twelve cities. The polities in a
cluster might share similar political institutions, religion, language, weights
and measures and writing, yet remain fiercely independent and competitive.
Such "structural homologies" are the product of the interactions which have
taken place, often over a long period. The explanation of the shared ele-
ments comes from the interactions, according to Maruyama's principle
(1963) of positive feedback leading to morphogenesis. The process of
change is therefore neither endogenous to the polity, nor exogenous to the
civilization. The vexed question of whether the Greek city-states, clearly

241
owing much to Mycenean and Minoan cultural influence, are to be re-
garded as endogenous developments, or exogenously devided from Egyp-
tian or Near Eastern influences, is neatly settled when it is realized that the
latter were reassembled and transmitted in, what, through peer polity inter-
action, became a distinctively Aegean form. A fortiori. whatever influences
reached the New World from the Old, Mesa-American city-states such as
Teotihuacan, Tikal, or Oaxaca, can confidently be regarded as pristine,
without in any way denying these influences.
It may be stretching it too far, but in the same way, the pre-colonial
segmentary state whose essential nature I was able to establish by field re-
search in the 1940s, can be seen as one variant within a large civilizational
cluster stretching from Uganda to Sudan, within which various polities de-
veloped from lengthy peer polity interaction and intermigrational contact
over a period of many centuries, such that pristine and endogenous devel-
opments took place which cannot be satisfactorily derived exogenously
from the influence of the Interlacustrian Bantu states, let alone more dis-
tantly from Egypt or Meroe.
The very early pristine states seem to have followed a generally simi-
lar pattern of emergence and development, despite marked individual dif-
ferences. During the fifth millennium B.C. peoples moved into the poten-
tially highly productive lands of southern Mesopotamia, still emerging
from the sea, transforming inhospitable jungle swamp into navigable canals
and irrigated fields. Population and settlements multiplied. High productiv-
ity permitted unprecedented density. Initially egalitarian communities with
ritual leaders capable of assuring cosmic and climatic harmony grew in size
and complexity. The flow of gifts to deities demanded temples for their re-
ception and management. The most successful and fastest growing com-
munities developed increasingly specialized organization. Priests became
divine kings, with growing staff capable of applying coercion, but relations
between communities remained largely peaceful.
Numerous small city-states, each of less than ten hectares, in no hier-
archical arrangement, grew up in the vicinity of Uruk. Primarily ritual, the
temple was the fundamental basis of the productive system. Heavenly bod-
ies provided the ritual calendar, foretold the seasons and co-ordinated in-
structions for agricultural production. Means of recording, seals, numbers
and eventually writing, were essential.

242
Uruk became a large ceremonial centre, influencing the smaller
communities in the space between it and neighbouring city-states, without
as yet exercising any coercive control. During the third millennium Uruk
somehow brought within its new defensive walls most of the population of
the surrounding settlements, making a big jump in the size of the central
city-state. This necessitated new methods and institutions of co-ordination
and control. The head of the temple became distinct from the divine king,
as head of the state as a whole, with a staff differentiated from that of the
temple. High officers mobilized political support, transforming voluntary
prestations into solid tribute and mystical ownership of the soil into large
estates with high productivity. Greater density and wealth brought more
disputes, neighboring city-states falling into internecine warfare. As they
destroyed one another, Sargon of Akkad conquered them, forming the first
empire, which crumbled after three generations, as Third Dynasty Ur estab-
lished its successor empire, which also crumbled after about a century.
The builders of the first city-states must be credited with exceptional
creative ability. It was long before the richness of their cultural florescence
was rivalled again. The extraordinary implosion of Uruk was a mark of this
cultural force, paralleled also in the development of Teotihuacan, the great-
est early city-state of the New World, nearly three millennia later.
Other remarkable sites such as Jericho in Palestine and Catal Huyuk
in Anatolia were several millennia earlier than Uruk and Mesopotamia.
They were clearly of enormous significance in the story of steps toward
state formation. But their isolation and partial excavation makes proper as-
sessment impossible. Whereas Uruk was one of a number of city-states in
contact with one another, becoming an urban system whose evolution can
be followed over several centuries, up to and through the first experiments
in empire building. Such rich, composite and long lasting prehistoric cul-
tures are rare and must weigh heavily on the interpretation of the earliest
state origins.
However, it is not possible to outline the development of all the other
neighbouring city-states to Uruk, simply for lack of data. Yet it is evident
that the early Sumerian city-states constituted a form of peer-polity situa-
tion. While I have emphasized endogenous development rather than con-
quest in pristine state origins, a peer-polity element is by no means incom-
patible. Ur, Uruk, Umma and Eridu, as well as Lagash, Nippur, Kish and

243
others, were similar in size and to some extent in structure at certain peri-
ods. After nearly two millennia of development which may have been
largely peaceful, inter-city warfare became general in the third millennium,
implying intensification of peer-polity interactions, but also mutual destruc-
tion, leading on to the earliest known effort at imperial conquest.
Inter-city-state warfare sharpened military skills sufficiently for a
victor to conquer his rivals and instantaneously create a nominal empire.
But the skills for administering and centralizing such an enlarged polity had
not been developed, so inevitably it soon fell apart. But once the thrills of
empire had been tasted they were never to be abandoned. The conqueror
might be symbolically depicted on his tomb with subjected multitudes un-
der his feet, but enrichment by plunder and taxation was promoted as glori-
fying the ruler, hence the state and ultimately the people as well.
The earliest states were city-states. The dynamics of intensification
of the political economy ensured this. The Sumerian city-states passed from
ritually co-ordinated, egalitarian communities to hierarchical divine king-
ships, to states bound by coercion and political sanctions, to the attempted
building of empires, which usually collapsed, but instigated repeated at-
tempts at building. It was an almost paradigmatic sequence, occurring
many times in the Old World and several in the New. There were many dif-
ferent conjunctures, engendering countless differences in detail, but this
was the royal road.

REFERENCES CITED
Claessen, H.J.M., and Skalnik, P. 1978 (eds.). The Early State. The Hague: Mouton.
Claessen, H.J.M., and van de Velde, P. 1991 (eds.). Early State Economics. New
Brunswick:Transaction Publishers.
Cohen, R. 1981. Evolution, fission and the early state. The Study of the State. Ed. by
H.J.M Claessen and P.Skalnik. The Hague: 87-115.
Godelier, M. 1978. Infrastructure, Society and History. Current Anthropology 19:763-
71.
Renfrew, C., and Cherry, C. 1986 (eds.). Peer Polity Interaction and Socio-Political
Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Southall, A. 1956. Alur Society: A Study in Processes and Types of Domination. Cam-
bridge: Heffer.
Southall, A. 1965. A Critique of the Typology of States and Political Systems. In, M.
(ed.1965) Political systems and the Distribution of Power. Ed. M.Banton by
London: Tavistock Publications.

244
Southall, A. 1988. The Segmentary State in Africa and Asia. Comparative Studies in
Society and History, 30 (1): 52-82.
Southall, A. 1992. The Segmentary State and the Asiatic mode of production: a theo-
retical drama. Conference on the Segmentary State and the Classic Lowland
Maya. Cleveland State University.

245
13

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY


OF PRISTINE STATE FORMATION

Charles S. Spencer

My objective in this paper is to present a model of pristine or pri-


mary state formation, with a particular emphasis on the political-economic
aspects of this process. I shall begin, however, with a few basic assump-
tions regarding the nature of culture. One of these is that culture can be use-
fully conceptualized as a living system (Flannery 1972; Miller 1978;
Spencer 1982). All living systems share a number of characteristics. In the
first place, they are open systems; they have boundaries though which mat-
ter, energy, and information are exchanged with their environments. In ad-
dition, living systems must counteract entropy by extracting energy from
their environments. Living systems are examples of what G. Nicolis,
I. Prigogine and their colleagues have called "dissipative structures," those
which are maintained only by the continual dissipation of energy (Nicolis
and Prigogine 1977, 1989; Prigogine 1980; Prigogine et al. 1977). Another
important assumption is that living systems exhibit a hierarchical structure,
with each level of the system consisting of components that are themselves
systems of a lower level. This general feature of systemic organization has
been called the "scalar hierarchy" by Crumley (1995). Examples of cultural
system levels would include the household level (composed of individuals),
the community level (composed of households), the regional level (com-
posed of communities), and the interregional level (composed of regions).
Let us proceed to consider three fundamental arrangements of deci-
sion making in cultural systems, moving from simple to complex. The first
situation is one in which decision-making authority is distributed through-
out the components of the cultural system. This is generally the case among

246
what have been called "uncentralized" or "egalitarian" societies; authority
is diffuse and leadership is ephemeral and context-dependent, so that con-
sensus often underlies successful decision making (Braun and Plog 1982;
Spencer 1987; 1994). On the regional level, the decision-making process is
distributed through the various villages; decision coordination (when it oc-
curs) is usually achieved by means of a regional tribal council or some
other device that brings together all or some of the members of the con-
stituent villages. On the village level, the decision-making process is dis-
persed through the household units that comprise the community; decision
coordination is achieved through community ritual, sodalities, men's socie-
ties, or other mechanisms that bring the members of different households
together (Flannery 1972; Service 1962:102).
Thus, in uncentralized societies periodic, ritualized aggregations
may facilitate, and even be necessary for, the coordination of decision-
making activities. On the village level, there might be kiva-like meeting
houses, public plazas, or dance grounds, spatially set off from residential
sectors, where members of the community can aggregate and, through ar-
gument or ceremony, come to a consensus regarding a course of action for
the village as a whole to take (Ford 1968: 56-64, 213-224; Rappaport 1968:
153-223). On the regional level, aggregations in uncentralized societies
may occur in locations that are "neutral" in that they are not directly associ-
ated with any particular village or social group (Yengoyan 1972). In other
situations, regional coordination is achieved through exchange, reciprocal
feasting, alliance, and warfare (Braun and Plog 1982; Chagnon 1968; Ford
1968; Redmond 1994).
Now, let us envision a different configuration, in which the decision-
making process in a cultural system is centralized, but not internally spe-
cialized. As defined by Wright, the societies known as chiefdoms are of
this form.

A chiefdom can be recognized as a cultural development whose central decision-


making activity is differentiated from, though it ultimately regulates, decision-
making regarding local production and local social processes; but it is not itself in-
ternally differentiated. It is thus externally but not internally specialized (Wright
1977: 381).

247
In a chiefdom, the decision-making process is centralized rather than
dispersed. On the community level of a cultural system, the usual manifes-
tation of this will be the identification of a single family, lineage, or similar
social component with the decision-making subsystem of the community.
This social component will usually be recognizable as the kin group of
highest status or rank; the leader of this social group is also the village
chief. On the regional level, the central decision-making process is identi-
fied with a single community, which is often referred to as the paramount
center, and the ruler thereof, the paramount chief. A key feature of societies
with centralized but not internally specialized authority is precisely the ex-
istence, on both the regional and community levels, of the office of chief, a
permanent position of authority which exists apart from the person who
fills it and which is passed down from one generation to the next (Flannery
1972: 403). The centralized nature of chiefly authority allows for the coor-
dination of many decision-making activities without the need for periodic
aggregations. Decisions can be made much more quickly than they can in
systems where decision making is based on consensus (Rappaport 1971:
38-39). However, although chiefly decision making is more effective than
that of an uncentralized society, it is also considerably more "expensive" to
maintain. Because chiefs are often quite removed from basic subsistence
production, surplus resources have to be mobilized from the primary pro-
ducers of the system. Effective management of the political economy,
therefore, becomes the key to survival for a chiefly administration
(Carneiro 1981: 61; Flannery 1972: 412; Kirch 1984: 281; Peebles and Kus
1977: 425-426; Spencer 1982: 7; Steponaitis 1978: 422).
Lacking internal specialization, central authority in a chiefdom is not
permanently divided into specialized parcels or chunks of authority. This
means that a chief cannot effectively delegate part of his authority to a sub-
ordinate. Any delegation becomes total delegation, and when it occurs the
chief will run the risk of political usurpation (Wright 1977). Since a re-
gional chief cannot permanently dispatch specialized administrators to
various parts of his chiefdom, he has to rule the entire domain from the
paramount center. This has two important consequences for the administra-
tion of chiefly systems. First, there is undoubtedly a spatial limit to the ter-
ritory size that a regional chief can effectively rule. I have suggested that
the most efficient territory size for a single paramount chief's domain (in a

248
preindustrial context) would be one with a radius of about 1/2 day of travel
from the regional center (Spencer 1982: 6-7). The paramount could get
from his capital to the edge of his territory and back in one day. If it be-
comes necessary for the paramount to send an underling out to some part of
his realm (to collect mobilized surplus, for example), a territory of this size
would make it possible for the assistant to go out and return the same day.
This is politically important, because if the chief sends a person out in his
name, that person becomes a stand-in for the chief. It is critical from the
chief's point of view that such a person not stay too long in some place far
from the capital, because he might use his temporary authority to rally sup-
port among the locals and overthrow the chief (Sahlins 1972: 145-146).
Such territorial limits on the effectiveness of chiefly administration have
been documented by Helms (1979: 53), Little (1967: 239-240), Goldman
(1970: 169), and Redmond and Spencer (1994).
A second consequence of the centralized but not internally special-
ized nature of chiefly decision making is that there will be a characteristic
optimal regulatory strategy for both the regional and community chiefs to
pursue. In each case, the optimal strategy is to encourage decision makers
on the next lower level of the system to be as self-sufficient as possible
with respect to the regulatory problems that exist only on that level. A re-
gional chief should encourage local communities to regulate their own af-
fairs with minimal interference from him. He should attempt to coordinate
only those activities pertaining to the region as a whole, such as mobilizing
labor for large- scale public works projects (building temple mounds at the
regional center, for example) and inter-polity raids. By the same token, the
community chief should encourage each household to be as self-sufficient
as possible and regulate its own internal affairs without intervention by the
community chief. He should concentrate instead on coordinating commu-
nity-level activities such as digging irrigation ditches, maintaining local
temples, and so forth. It seems clear that local self-regulation would be
hindered by community specialization. And thus, insofar as this is possible
given environmental constraints, local communities are encouraged not to
specialize but to pursue a generalized economic strategy capable of supply-
ing the inhabitants with most of their necessities (Earle 1978:158; Peebles
and Kus 1977:432; Taylor 1975:35; Wright 1977: 381).

249
It is important to recognize that a basic contradiction is contained
with the optimal regulatory strategy of the chief. Consider the regional
paramount. On the one hand, he is encouraging local communities to be as
self-sufficient as possible, to lessen the need for intervention by him or
members of his retinue into local affairs. On the other hand, to keep his
power he must maintain regional political cohesion and "finance" his
chiefly operation; the latter requires that he mobilize surplus production in
the local communities on a regular basis. How can a chief simultaneously
foster self-regulation and also political-economic allegiance among the
communities in his domain? I have suggested four strategies that help
chiefs overcome this contradiction: (1) sanctification of authority;
(2) alliance formation (often involving marriage ties) between the para-
mount chief and community chiefs; (3) prestige good exchange; and
(4) inter-polity warfare, the successful waging of which often calls for mili-
tary alliances between elites within the regional polity (Spencer 1987: 376).
Finally, let us envision a third arrangement of decision making in a
cultural system. In this situation, not only is the central decision-making
process externally differentiated from the components it regulates, but it is
itself also divided into separate components, each of which performs part
of the overall decision-making task. This form of decision making is char-
acteristic of states.

A state can be recognized as a cultural development with a centralized decision-


making process which is both externally specialized with regard to the local proc-
esses which it regulates, and internally specialized in that the central process is di-
visible into separate activities which can be performed at different places at different
times (Wright 1977: 383).

Different decisions pertaining to central administration can be made


by different specialized components in a state. In order to coordinate deci-
sion-making activities, the specialized components are often organized hi-
erarchically into echelons. Components in the higher echelons will be con-
cerned with policy, while components in the lower echelons are usually in-
volved with more specific decision-making tasks.
The administrative principles of the state are compatible with the ef-
fective delegation of partial authority. This means that a state ruler can
permanently dispatch specialized administrative officials to locations other

250
than the state capital with minimal fear of political usurpation. In an earlier
work, I called this administrative technique "decentralized decision mak-
ing" (Spencer 1982: 6), using the following definition of the term decen-
tralize: "to divide and distribute (powers, etc.) from a central authority to
places or branches away from the center" (Oxford American Dictionary
1980: 164). In the years since that contribution, however, I have noticed an
unfortunate confusion in the literature between the concepts of "uncentral-
ized decision making" (which I take to be characteristic of uncentralized
egalitarian systems) and "decentralized decision making" (which I view as
the delegation of authority in a system that is already centralized). In the
present paper, therefore, I will use the term "delegated decision making" to
refer to the strategy of dispatching specialized lower-level administrative
officials to locations other than the state capital. My use of "delegated deci-
sion making" is based on the following definition of the verb to delegate:
"to entrust (a task, power, or responsibility) to an agent" (Oxford American
Dictionary 1980: 167). A specialized administrator to whom authority has
been delegated can be referred to as a delegate: "a person who represents
others and acts according to their instructions" (Oxford American Diction-
ary 1980: 167). Note that the central administration of the state retains its
authority over the dispatched specialized administrators, who are endowed
with narrowly-defined, partial authority. Moreover, I would argue that in
any developmental sequence decision-making authority must first be cen-
tralized before there can occur internal administrative specialization and
concomitant delegation of partial authority. This view is consistent with
Carneiro's (1981) argument that the chiefdom is the precursor of the state
(see also Earle 1978, 1987; Flannery 1972; Marcus and Flannery 1996).
The development of internally specialized administration, with the
concomitant capacity for delegated decision making, greatly increases the
effectiveness with which local stresses and imbalances in the system can be
handled, and also allows the central administration to integrate a much lar-
ger system than can an administration without such features; thus a state
has the capacity to integrate a much larger territory than a chiefdom (Cohen
and Schlegel 1968). On the other hand, administrations with permanently
dispatched (delegated) decision-making components are much more expen-
sive to maintain than are ones where decision making is only centralized.
This is because the permanent delegation of partial authority to specialized

251
groups of officials entails greatly increased communication and transporta-
tion costs in order to coordinate local and central administrative processes.
So, while chiefly decision making is often less effective, it usually is con-
siderably less costly to maintain than the administrative practices of the
state.
On the other hand, a state has a wider range of political- economic
options at its disposal than does a chiefdom. Delegation of authority allows
for the direct administration of local production by members of the state
bureaucracy. Production goals, labor quotas, work schedules, and rates of
taxation can be determined by policy makers at the state capital and then
implemented by specialized administrators scattered throughout the terri-
tory. It is consistent with the administrative principles of the state to create
specialized enforcement institutions such as a police force, permanent
army, and judicial system, all of which can be directed to back up state
policies with legal sanctions.
The optimal regulatory strategy of a state ruler will differ in a fun-
damental way from that of a paramount chief, precisely because of the con-
trasting principles that define the administrative organizations of each.
While a paramount chief should strive not to intervene in the day-to-day
affairs of local villagers and should avoid having to delegate authority, the
optimal regulatory strategy of the state ruler will be the reverse: to divide
and segment authority as much as possible in order to minimize the likeli-
hood of usurpation (Wright 1977: 383). This may include the fostering of
specialization and concomitant specialization among component communi-
ties, which will tend to undermine the autonomy of local leaders and pro-
mote organic solidarity, both of which can be manipulated to promote re-
gional political cohesion and thus bolster the long-term interests of the state
leadership. Useful information on the relationships among internal adminis-
trative specialization, delegated decision making, and the extent of politi-
cal-economic territories in historically-known states can be found in Cohen
and Schlegel (1968), Lewis (1965), Lombard (1967), and Smith (1967).
Chiefdoms have a widely-recognized tendency to undergo cycles of
political growth and decline (Anderson 1994; Carneiro 1981; Earle 1978;
Peebles and Kus 1977; Sahlins 1972; Spencer 1987, 1990; Wright 1977,
1984). During an episode of political growth there is usually a considerable
increase in the power and wealth controlled by the central decision makers

252
of the system; political decline is when this control attenuates. Political
growth is accomplished largely through the mobilization of surplus re-
sources. During a cycle of political growth, a paramount chief will stimu-
late surplus production through the network of elite alliances that links him
to the community chiefs. A given community chief may well respond en-
thusiastically to the request, for if he is able to deliver the surplus, he will
likely be rewarded with desirable prestige goods, usually obtained by the
paramount through long-distance exchange. With more prestige goods in
hand, the community chief's prestige will be augmented and he will be able
to induce his followers to generate still more surplus production. Similarly,
as the paramount chief receives more surplus he can underwrite a larger
and more impressive regional chiefly establishment, which enhances his
prestige and helps him to stimulate still more surplus production through
his ties with the community chiefs. Thus, on both the regional and commu-
nity levels, the chiefly political economy is driven by a series of positive
feedback relationships.
There are essentially two ways to bring about an increase in surplus
production, as Sahlins (1972: 82) has pointed out: "getting people to work
more or more people to work." Because the first strategy requires the lead-
ership to intervene directly into the daily work schedules of individual
households and villages, it is the second that is usually more compatible
with chiefly decision-making principles. Getting more people to work can
be most expeditiously achieved by getting more people. The leadership can
encourage immigration and regional population growth, which would in-
crease the supply of available labor and thus the potential for surplus pro-
duction (Blanton 1975).
Impelled by an internal logic toward greater surplus mobilization, the
process of chiefly political growth can continue-but not indefinitely. I sug-
gested earlier that there is a limit to territory size that can be effectively
administered by a decision-making organization lacking internal specializa-
tion and the concomitant capacity to delegate partial authority on a perma-
nent basis. Beyond a certain range (perhaps in the neighborhood of 1/2 day
of travel from the paramount center), political control attenuates and local
communities will be much less likely to generate surpluses for the center's
support. During a cycle of chiefly political growth, therefore, the produc-

253
tion of surplus resources must be increased in the territory lying within the
spatial bounds of regulatory efficacy.
It would be useful to express these political-economic relationships
in terms of a mathematical model. Like all such constructs, this will be a
simplified version of reality. Nevertheless, if the following assumptions are
allowed, we can build a dynamic model of a chiefly political economy un-
der conditions of growth that may bring the present discussion into sharper
focus.
1. Let us assume that we have a chiefdom with two kinds of people:
elite and commoner.
2. The commoners are the primary producers of the system.
3. The commoners are thus the ultimate producers of all the surplus re-
sources that the elite use to sustain their political establishment.
4. There exists a mechanism for transferring surplus resources from the
primary producers to the elite.
5. There exists a mechanism whereby the elite can transfer information
to the commoners concerning the elite's need for resources.
6. The operation of the chiefly establishment results in the continual
dissipation of energy.
7. Political growth entails a progressive increase in resource accumula-
tion and dissipation by the elite.
8. As the elite accumulate resources, they gain prestige and power, and
their ability to command further surplus mobilization is enhanced.
9. There is a spatial limit to the effectiveness of chiefly authority,
which implies that the process of chiefly political growth is also lim-
ited.
10. Chiefly political growth is a continuous, ongoing, and dynamic
process.
An implication of Assumption 10 is that the operation of a chiefly
political economy can be modeled with a system of differential equations.
Assumption 9 indicates that chiefly political growth can be modeled as a
logistic process. Assumptions 1-5 present the elite sector in a predatory re-
lationship to the commoner sector, suggesting that we can model this rela-
tionship by employing techniques developed for modeling predator-prey
relationships in natural ecosystems. Adding Assumptions 6-7 to the total
mix provides a rationale for using the approach developed by Prigogine et

254
al. (1977), which models dynamic predator-prey relationships in view of
the concept of dissipative structures.
The following model of a chiefly political economy is adapted from
the discussion in Prigogine et al. (1977: 54-55).
Let X = the amount of disposable resources controlled by
the commoners
Y = the amount of disposable resources controlled by
the elite
K = the rate of resource extraction (production)
by the commoners
D = the rate of resource dissipation by the elite
N = the total amount of extractable resources within the
political-economic domain of the polity
S = the transfer rate; the rate at which resources
are transferred from the commoners to the elite
The dynamics of the chiefly political economy can be described by
the following equations:
(1) dX/dt = KX (N - X) - SXY
(2) dY/dt = DY + SXY
The term SXY is the transfer term. It will increase in direct propor-
tion to both X and Y for the following reasons: (1) with larger X, more re-
sources are transferred because there are more disposable resources con-
trolled by the commoners that are available for such transfer; (2) with lar-
ger Y, more resources are transferred from the commoner to the elite sector
because as the elite come to control more disposable resources (through the
operation of the poltical economy), their prestige increases and their ability
to command further resource appropriation increases accordingly, in line
with Assumption 8.
The chiefly political economy as modeled is capable of undergoing
growth until the limits of the system are approached. As this happens, there
will occur the characteristic flattening of the logistic growth curve. The dis-
tribution of disposable resources as the political economy nears its opera-
tional limits can be expressed by the following solutions for the differential
equations when growth has peaked (Prigogine et al. 1977: 54-55).
(4) Xo = D/S
(5) Yo = K/S (N - D/S)
255
The ratio of these two equations is given as follows:
(6) Yo/Xo = K/D (N - D/S)
Equation 6 represents a ratio of the disposable resources controlled
by the elite to those controlled by the commoners. It can be interpreted as
an expression of the relative degree of political centralization (that is, cen-
tralized control over power and resources) in the system as the political
economy reaches its operational limits. What inferences can we draw from
this equation?
First, note that centralization is favored by relatively large K, N, and
S: (1) by a high rate of resource extraction (production) by the primary
producers; (2) by a large quantity of resources in the environment available
for extraction; and (3) by a high rate of resource transfer from the com-
moners to the elite. The value of K is determined by the basic means of
production that the commoners employ to extract resources; the value of N
is determined by the quantity of extractable resources within the territory
encompassed by the chiefly political economy; and the value of S is deter-
mined by the magnitude and frequency of the revenue-gathering mecha-
nisms of the chiefly political economy.
Second, note that centralization is not favored by a value for D that is
large relative to the other variables (K, N, and S) in the right side of Equa-
tion 6. The value for D, the rate of energy dissipation by the elite, is pri-
marily determined by the size of the chiefly establishment-the number of
wives, kinsmen, attached craft specialists, and hangers-on that the chief
supports-as well as by the magnitude of the communal activities (public
works projects, large ceremonies) that he underwrites.
It is also important to recognize that we would expect D to steadily
increase in value during an episode of political growth (Assumption 7).
But, what is likely to happen as the political economy approaches its opera-
tional limits and the political growth curve flattens logistically? If D (the
cost of energy dissipation by the elite) has become quite large relative to S,
K, and N, the consequences for the system as modeled by Equation 6 are
clear: There will be downward pressure exerted on Yo/Xo (the left side of
Equation 6). Such pressure implies the beginnings of a decrease in the rela-
tive amount of disposable resources controlled by the elite, a likely harbin-
ger of a political decline.

256
Since the elite would probably not take a sanguine view of this turn
of events, we might expect them to act to prevent its occurrence. In order to
maintain the stability of the political economy without shrinking the dis-
posable resources that the elite control (Yo), increases in D would have to
be matched by increases in S, K, and/or N. Increasing S (the transfer rate)
would involve stepping up the rate of resource transfer from the common-
ers to the elite (more surplus-mobilizing "redistributive" feasts, for exam-
ple). An increase in K (production rate) would require an intensification of
production--for example, through an increase in irrigated farming within
the polity's domain. An increase in N (available resources) would involve
an enlargement of the political-economic territory itself.
The enlargement of N is largely precluded as long as the central
leadership continues to pursue chiefly regulatory principles (centralized but
generalized decision making, with minimal delegation of authority). This
expectation follows from Assumption 9, concerning the spatial limits to
chiefly regulatory efficacy. Only with a fundamental change in regulatory
principles and strategies can N be significantly expanded, according to the
model developed here.
The other option available to the leadership would be to increase K
and/or S. Leaders might urge commoners to step up production through in-
tensification and then appropriate the yields at ever-increasing rates. Yet, it
is likely that this would not be an effective long-term solution. Consider the
chain of events such a strategy might engender. Intensification would even-
tually lead to an overworked productive base, leading to declines in overall
output. Commoners could find themselves having to choose (especially in
lean years) between loyalty to the chief and the nutritional needs of their
families. Surplus demands in such a context would likely be viewed as on-
erous. Disenchantment could sprout, allegiance wane, and rebellion fester.
At the peak of the growth cycle, therefore, the chiefly political economy
would be in danger of foundering on problems bred by its own success.
The system would have reached what Prigogine and his colleagues call a
"bifurcation point" in its trajectory, a point characterized by a high degree
of instability and strain. Unless the central decision makers implement
some new strategy capable of solving these problems, the system will ex-
perience a political decline, leading to a decrease in the concentration of

257
wealth and power in the system, with a corresponding decline in energy
dissipation by the elite.
One way for the leadership to break out of this impasse would be to
bring about an increase in N in Equation 6, that is, to enlarge the political
economic territory well beyond the limits that are associated with chiefly
regulatory efficacy. Political control could be extended, perhaps through
military expansion, into the territories of adjacent polities (Carneiro 1970;
Marcus 1992). I have noted, however, that such a move would require a
fundamental shift in the regulatory principles and strategies of the central
decision makers. For such an expansionist move to succeed in the long run,
the central leadership would have to be able to delegate partial authority to
specialized administrators stationed far from the capital who would be re-
sponsible for, among other tasks, collecting resources from subject com-
munities. This strategy-an example of delegated decision making--requires
internal administrative specialization for its effective coordination, and it is
of course much more costly than simple centralized decision making be-
cause of greater personnel, transportation, and communication costs. If
such a strategy can be successfully implemented, however, more resources
could be mobilized and the process of political growth could be sustained.
As more resources are extracted from new territories, more delegated deci-
sion making could be funded, which would allow for further expansion and
more resource extraction. This deviation-amplifying process (Maruyama
1963) would foster an increase in the degree of delegated decision making
and internal administrative specialization in the system-leading to the emer-
gence of the state as an administrative form both qualitatively and quantita-
tively more complex than the chiefdom that preceded it.
I suggest that this change in regulatory principles and strategies can
be expressed with a system of differential equations analogous to those de-
veloped by Nicolis and Prigogine (1977: 459-461) for describing the emer-
gence of the division of labor in insect societies. Envision a situation where
we have two politically autonomous chiefly polities located next to one an-
other in space, and they are both undergoing political growth, in line with
our discussion thus far. Let us further assume that one of them, Polity Y,
has reached the situation described in Equation 6, with political growth lev-
eling off, and the leadership has chosen to address the problems fostered by
the growth cycle by expanding the size of the political-economic territory

258
that it controls. The central decision makers of Polity Y try a new regula-
tory strategy: they create a specialized branch of their administration whose
purpose is to collect resources from the inhabitants of adjacent Polity X.
Let K = the rate (per capita) of resource extraction from the
environment in Polity X and Polity Y (rates are assumed
to be equal)
X = disposable resources controlled by Polity X
Y = disposable resources controlled by Polity Y
Z = resources allocated by Polity Y to the specialized
arm (Subsystem Z) of the central decision-making or-
ganization, to defray the costs of delegated decision
making
Nx = total extractable resources within the political-
economic territory of Polity X
Ny = total extractable resources within the political-
economic territory of Polity Y
D = rate (per capita) of energy dissipation by the elite sector
(rates assumed to be the same for both polities)
Following Nicolis and Prigogine (1977: 460), with modifications, we may
describe the dynamics of the two-polity situation as follows:
(7) dX/dt = KX (Nx - X) - DX - BXZ
(8) dY/dt = KY (Ny - Y) - DY - F (Y,Z) + BXZ
(9) dZ/dt = F (Y,Z) - DZ
The BXZ term expresses the transfer of resources from X to Y due to
the action of Subsystem Z, the specialized branch of Polity Y, where B is a
term specifying the rate at which such resources are transferred. F (Y,Z) is
a regulation function defined by Nicolis and Prigogine (1977: 460) as fol-
lows:
(10) F (Y,Z) = AYZ AZ2
where A = a term specifying the rate at which resources from Polity
Y are allocated to Subsystem Z
Now, we are interested in determining the conditions that will favor
the expansion of Z, that is, the conditions that favor an increase in the re-
sources allocated for permanently delegated decision making by Polity Y.
In line with our earlier model of a chiefly political economy, we assume
259
that such a strategy would be attempted by the leadership of Polity Y when
the political growth of that system has reached the operational limits of a
chiefly political economy and the growth curve has flattened. Thus, we are
interested in the conditions that would favor the expansion of delegated de-
cision making under such circumstances:
(11) AYo - D > 0
Now, Nicolis and Prigogine (1977: 461) point out that because
(12) Yo = Ky (Ny - D/K)
we can substitute accordingly into Equation 11, finding that
(13) AKyNy - (AKy/K + 1)D > 0
If we examine the terms and their algebraic relationships in Equation
13, it is clear that large Ny is the most important single condition favoring
the expansion of Z (Nicolis and Prigogine 1977: 461). Thus, we would ex-
pect the leadership of Polity Y to allocate more and more resources to Sub-
system Z (delegated decision making) as the territory included within the
political-economic domain of Polity Y grows in size (which it does primar-
ily through the actions of Subsystem Z) and there is a corresponding in-
crease in the quantity of extractable resources within that expanding do-
main. This deviation-amplifying relationship (Maruyama 1963) favors the
development of delegated decision making as a permanent and increasingly
important feature of Polity Y.
From the preceding discussion, we can generate the following expec-
tations regarding the transition from chiefdom to pristine state.
1. Our model of a chiefly political economy suggests political growth in
such a context is a logistic process, a consequence of the territorial lim-
its on regulatory efficacy that result from the centralized but not inter-
nally specialized nature of chiefly decision making.
2. When chiefly political growth reaches these limits, the system will ap-
proach a "bifurcation point" in its developmental trajectory, a point at
which new regulatory strategies must be implemented for the growth
trend to be sustained.
3. Among the most effective of such new strategies would be the creation
of specialized subsystems of administration that are dispatched to places
far from the capital to manage the extraction and transfer of resources.
4. Because this strategy requires the delegation of authority to these spe-
cialized administrators, we would expect the central leadership to pro-
260
mote internal administrative specialization as a way of narrowing the
breadth of authority possessed by the dispatched administrative assis-
tants and hence undermining their capacity for independent action, such
as usurpation or fissioning off.
5. If the combined strategies of delegated decision making and internal
administrative specialization are successfully implemented, the state can
be said to exist.
6. From this perspective, we expect the emergence of the state to be ac-
companied by a considerable expansion in the political-economic terri-
tory of the polity.
Although some state researchers have long believed that the territo-
rial expansion of state control is a phenomenon that typically takes place
well after the initial formation of the state--during what is sometimes
called an "imperial" phase of development--other scholars have pointed
out that expansionism often plays a major role quite early in the devel-
opmental cycles of ancient states (Carneiro 1970; 1992; Marcus 1992). In
one recent study, Marcus and Flannery asserted:

"We do not believe that a chiefdom simply turns into a state. We believe that states
arise when one member of a group of chiefdoms begins to take over its neighbors,
eventually turning them into subject provinces of a much larger polity" (1996:157, em-
phasis in original).

This viewpoint, I would argue, is supported by the models discussed in


the present paper, the main conclusion of which is that the expansion of
political-economic territory should be seen not as a delayed consequence
of state emergence, but rather as an integral part of the process of pris-
tine state formation itself.

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Ann Arbor: 5-9.

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14

THE PRISTINE MYTH OF THE PRISTINE STATE


IN AMERICA

Richard P. Schaedel and David G. Robinson

Prolegomenon
We should like to: (1) formulate a few general concepts on the the-
ory of societal evolution and critiques thereof; (2) refer to illustrative case
histories of the New World, (Mesoamerica, the Andes, Southwestern USA)
from c. 2,000 B.C. to the 16th century, including the many discrepancies in
interpretation of the data; and (3) make generalizations resulting from a
comparison of the various case histories of proto early states and the rele-
vance of these findings to the origin of complex societies in the Old World
and their relationship to universal themes and variation of hierarchization
and inequality in societies that crossed the threshold of sedentarism and
food production between 3,000 and 10,000 years ago.
As the earliest (presumably autarchic) sedentaristic communities ag-
gregated over time, the basic functions that linked the constituent commu-
nities were first discharged in spatially disparate settlements. A "primate"
settlement might perform one of three basic functions more effectively
(ceremonial--because it had within its territory a site with a spectacular
configuration suggesting cosmic force; economic--because it is adjacent to
scarce raw material sources; or political--because of a strategic defensive
position). In most cases of earliest sedentarism, such "primacy" is purely
conjectural as the supra-community linkage systems can only be hypothe-
sized from minute evidence indicating sporadic cultural exchange over
macro-time.
Thus the earliest sedentaristic microsocieties were linked to one an-
other in a sporadic interaction network but not unified. The appearance of

265
multicommunity "hegemonies" (e.g. Real Alto in the Chavin and Olmec
regions) in the second millenium B.C. was probably created through volun-
tary participation in a shared belief system elaborated over time by priest
groups in the several shrine communities, which had to be supported by
outlying communities' contribution of goods and services to a cult center,
which redistributed the surplus product in the form of performance and rel-
ics. Except for "encapsulated shrine villages" (e.g. Real Alto in another less
well-documented interaction sphere covering the Ecuadorean-West Co-
lombian tropical littoral), all shrine settlements lack evidence of an imme-
diate supporting population of sufficient magnitude to have built the shrine,
and the shrine is usually quite modest.
In Southwestern North America, the three major cultural groups,
Anasazi, Hohokam, and Mogollon reflect a pattern of fluctuating "peaks"
of centrality and population maxima. Central villages grew around the ar-
chitecture of the great kiva religious and ceremonial complex, even in its
most monumental stages, as at Chaco Canyon and Casas Grandes. These
centers achieved regional integration, coordinating microsocieties on a
large scale (Cordell 1984; Robinson 1992).
The only "organizing" principle (bonding the communities) that can
be extrapolated would be the one of regulating scheduling and seasonality
of resource management, which in addition to the ritual performance ser-
vice was the other main service that the cult center elite should have ren-
dered its constituents, and would provide the quid for the quo of voluntary
manpower contribution between the participant communities and the shrine
community that emerges as center. Participants in the belief system pre-
sumably benefited from the knowledge on the best time to plant, collect
and harvest, and how to avoid or compensate for calamities, but most of all
on how to guarantee the the annual climatic cycle would repeat itself (es-
sentially developed by a system of mutually agreed upon constraints known
as "tabus" and in industrial societies as "insurance").
Only with the gradual filling up of niches by demographic growth
(known as the carrying capacity argument or circumscription) did the mi-
crosociety experience a need for "integration" or supplanting linking by
binding. When this "relative circumscription" was perceived--the "need"
for a new organizing principle, the defense of the territoriality through co-
ordination, became manifest and took priority over concern for renewabil-

266
ity of resources. Control (instead of regulation) assumes top priority and
centralization becomes a meaningful dynamic in explaining societal com-
plexity as carrying capacity is perceived as reaching its limit. Reformulat-
ing this change in R.N. Adams" (1981) paradigm, the control group (in pro-
tostates) is formed as the successor to the regulatory group (in chiefdoms).

The Earliest "Civilizations"


(Monumentality and Quasi-sedentarism)
In this basically autarchic model, the constant of demographic
growth (significantly more rapid than the infinitely slow rate of nomadic
societies) characteristic of most sedentary societies represented a crescive
challenge to the societies' productive capacity, which in most pristine sed-
entaristic microsocieties was met; (1) by extending the territoriality of the
basic sedentary unit by sheer contiguous expansion, by "niche leapfrog-
ging" or fissioning (daughter) colonies and: (2) technological innovation,
rendering more productive the ratio of food yield per hectare or per bio-
mass. A positive feedback situation could be inferred in the latter case, re-
inforcing a trend to specialization, potentially implicit since the attainment
of sedentarism. The earliest "civilizations" represent "peaks" in the micro-
society in which it is possible to ascribe virtually all of the excess of
archaeologically detectable corporate labor and of product in goods and
services of the primary specialists to ceremonial activities. These activities
were understood as basically guaranteeing the renewability of the society's
resources.
These microsocieties consisted of temporary concentrations of great
masses of people from widely scattered regions around massive shrines
erected by seasonal allocations of voluntary unskilled labor under the or-
ganization of a small cadre of resident shrine specialists, who also super-
vised a widely dispersed network of trading for or direct procurement of
scarce ritual raw materials, which were transformed into ritual objects
which were either "consumed" or redistributed at the shrine. Dillehay
(1992) gives one a glimpse of the microsocieties after perhaps a millenium
of adaptation to sedentarism in the Andes. Similar earliest peaks of seden-
tarism or quasi-sedentarism in comparative world case history occur at Le-
penski Vir at the Iron Gate in Eastern Europe, Poverty Point in the South-
eastern United States, and Catal Huyuk in Anatolia. And such well-

267
developed multi-community hegemonies as Chavin in Peru and the Olmec
(floruit 1500-500 B.C.) of Mexico are well-documented cases of these
early microsocietal "peaks." None of these sites reflects a permanent con-
centration of even a thousand people: there is no evidence of a hegemony
by coercive force even though such hegemony as did exist could have been
sustained by dogma, and there is some evidence for a cadre of permanent
religious elites, but no evidence of a permanent secular elite. Viewed from
the cumulative interpretation of artifacts and architecture, the mechanism
of aggregation of the human communities that supported these "proto-
civilizations" as well as the later, icon-rich, more elaborated and denser
civilizations was basically a shared system of beliefs. From the settlement
pattern evidence, the artifact-poor outlying hamlets and the artifact and/or
building-rich shrines, one can derive further support for the interpretation
that these earliest proto-civilizations were theocratic and pilgrimage-
oriented (see Dillehay (1992) for the late sequence and Benfer (1986) for
the earlier sequence).
Basically all the linked communities had the same range of procure-
ment activities and subsistence system. To characterize a cluster of com-
munities sharing a basic macroniche but with no apparent formal supra-
community structure and with no archaeologically detectable specific link-
age system (except sporadic cultural interchange) the term interaction
sphere has been used by archaeologists. We suggest geosphere. A well-
documented area where the transition from incipient sedentarism to the
consolidation of food production practices can be shown is the Central An-
dean littoral between 4,500 and 1,000 B.C. To designate the total array of
c. 40 documented post-sedentaristic settlements in Peru from Las Salinas
(Chao Valley to La Paloma (Chilca Valley), between 4500-2000 B.C., we
would have to use the term Peruvian Maritime geosphere (however sau-
sage-shaped the elongated "sphere" would be). This sphere is ecologically
homogeneous. This would be a distinct empirical application of Mac-
Neish's (MacNeish et al. 1972) term, which in his pioneer usage is apt and
provocative but too abstract to be theoretically helpful.

268
The Mature Civilizations
(Culminations of Microsocietal Growth)
The ceremonial center, which these early building concentrations
represent when viewed in the light of subsequent developments, can be an
appropriate prototype to account for the phenomenon of nucleation (both
cyclical and residential) that becomes one of the diagnostic processes in ur-
banization. In tracing the sequence of microsocietal growth (and here noth-
ing more than demographic growth need necessarily be implied) after the
first "peaks" in certain regions (most regions did not "peak" one millenium
after sedentarism), one can describe the replication of the phenomenon of
social aggregation reflected in the architectural nucleation of the ceremo-
nial center, in which the basic settlement pattern does not change. The
ceremonial center does undergo quantitative and qualititative changes, re-
flecting on the one hand greater numbers of aggregated supportive commu-
nities and on the other, greater specialization in category and quantity of
goods and services being manipulated by the expanding Tempelwirtschaft
(priestly societal management).
A good base-line for catching our archeological glimpse of these
later peaks in microsocietal growth would be A.D. 1 in the valley of Mex-
ico, and A.D. 500 in coastal Peru and the Maya area. Clearly the scale of
the society has broadened (even though its territoriality may be less) over
the early civilizations. Person/square kilometer ratios have increased sig-
nificantly. Evidence of conflict (population pressure?) and stratification are
two key phenomena that are reflected in the iconography (shown in repre-
sentational art) but not necessarily in the architecture. What does this repre-
sent in terms of the autarchic model? Inferentially it represents the intrusion
of what Carneiro has called the principle of circumscription, what archae-
ology-generalists have called the "filling up of the niches," what Braid-
wood once called "settling in," and what we prefer to call the perception of
the minimal (prehispanic) carrying capacity limit of the land in terms of
man/land ratio. The two previously mentioned strategies available to the
microsociety to cope with demographic growth should have been utilized
with variant degrees of success until previously distant territorialities im-
pinged on one another. The impingement situation then represents a second
major challenge to the maintenance of equilibrium and the reproductive ca-
pacities of the demographically increasing microsocieties.

269
To grasp the type of dynamics that microsocieties represent at that
point after sedentarism when the niches were relatively filled, it is instruc-
tive to review the non-central Andean societies in South America, but at the
time of contact. The most complex and nearest to the prehispanic Andean
macrosociety was the Chibcha, which could be favorably compared to the
larger chiefdoms described in the recent ethnographic record for Polynesia
(Tonga in Gailey (1987)) or Africa (Dahomey) in Diamond (1951)); while
at the simpler end of the sedentaristic food-producing spectrum one could
place microsocieties of the northwest Argentine or lowland Venezuela and
Colombia. As Bateson's (1967: 189ff) paradigm on schismogenesis pre-
dicts, any two or more societies placed in a situation of reduced territorial-
ity face a limited set of choices: (1) the complete fusion of the originally
different groups; (2) the elimination of one or both groups; or (3) the per-
sistence of both groups in dynamic equilibrium within one major commu-
nity (and here Bateson is using the term community in a relative sense,
ranging from a nation-state to a village encompassing two moieties). The
fusional process is conditioned by Bateson's yardsticks of shared ideational
and structural traits, and corresponds to the aggregative process in chief-
dom formation. The Chibcha would represent a case of fusion, or a case in
which microsocieties, exploiting contiguous portions of a major
macroniche opted for an integrative solution, although the degree of "com-
plete" fusion was not obtained (and within a chiefdom model would not be
integrated through a mechanism of coercive control which implies accep-
tance of the principle of statehood), as their rapid disaggregation after
Spanish contact demonstrated.
Although it is difficult to demonstrate archaeologically, there seem
to have been no cases of alternative 2, i.e. genocide in the prehistoric South
American record. Nonetheless, the kind of cyclical "billiard ball displace-
ment" form based on competition for most desired ecological niches (allu-
vial river banks) that Lathrap (1970) describes for the Amazon peoples
could be viewed as a kind of "periodical elimination" of one group. Bate-
son further subdivided alternative 3 into two gross parts; those in which the
dynamic equilibrium was based upon symmetrical differentiation and those
in which it depended upon complementary differentiation. Groups with
symmetrical differentiation are well-exemplified by peoples to the north-
east and southeast of the Andes, most of which Steward and Faron (1959)

270
characterized as "militaristic chiefdoms" in which specialized cults of ritu-
alized warfare and slaughter of war captives were practiced by neighboring
groups. These colorful mechanisms, if somewhat terrifying, represent a
kind of ritualization of the "demographic arms race" in which killing the
enemy has as its goal more the maintenance of "parity" than the acquisition
or exploitation of the neighbor's territory.
Cases of complementary differentiation, which may also be termed
"economic symbioses" are well-illustrated by the relatively un-aggregated
village societies of the Northwest Argentine in relationship to the oasis vil-
lages of the Atacaman desert and the fishing hamlets of the Chilean littoral.
Some idea of this hypothesized inter-societal vertical archipelago can be
gleaned from Nunez and Dillehay (1979) and Cigliano (1973).
Although we have given examples only of relationships between
sedentary societies (because this is an implicit assumption of Bateson's
paradigm) one more type of response to impingement which can be desig-
nated as the "predatory" case (on territoriality) should be mentioned where
an originally nomadic hunting-gathering society exercises a kind of custo-
dial hegemony and exploitation over one or more sedentary societies in re-
turn for "protection". The Mbaya in the Plata delta and the Carib and Cara-
cas of Venezuela appear to best exemplify this rather bizarre type of dy-
namic equilibrium (Metraux 1946, Kirchoff 1948, Hernandez de Alba
1948, Oberg 1955).
We may visualize the prehistoric microsocieties in the first mille-
nium (whether we concentrate on the Central Andes, the Maya Lowlands,
or the Mexican plateau) as exploring one or another of these types of ac-
commodation, documented at the time of the Iberian conquest among the
non-Andean societies of South America. All but the first would lead to a
continuing system of equilibrium, however, fluctuating over time in de-
grees of mutual complementarity. The first or integrative pattern, however,
could and presumably did generate a contradiction (crisis) between the or-
ganizing principles of the original microsocieties and defense of territorial-
ity. The mechanism in microsociety that provides for the crystallization of
a functional social group (which is distinct from the priests who regulate)
which specializes in control, and can assume the primary stewardship func-
tions of the society, is specialization (allocation of rights and privileges, ac-
commodation and provisioning by the food producers and attribution of

271
special status to the specialists). One can only speculate how such a spe-
cialized group of administrative warriors emerged from repeated sporadic
calls for ad hoc war-leaders. With the restriction of domains, another aspect
of the contradictory position of the priests was becoming acute: the urgent
and unpredictable redistribution of surplus and the construction of public
buildings (now needed for defensive purposes) did not lend themselves to
the old egalitarian format of voluntary or at least consensual recruitment of
either goods or services.
These are some of the suggested bases for the scenes of inferred
stress, conflict, and stratification that the iconography in artistic produc-
tions of these climactic prehistoric microsocieties may be representing. The
seeds for the transformation to a macrosociety are clearly in evidence both
in the A.D. 500 Mochica and Maya overall settlement patterns, yet in nei-
ther case do we have the settlement pattern evidence to indicate that the
radical transformation took place (until in the case of the Moche between
A.D. 750 and 1,000) or that the society disaggregated (as in the case of the
Maya after A.D. 800).
As a response to the myth of the pristine state, we should like to for-
mulate what seems to be a much more defensible pattern of Native Ameri-
can cultural development as it faced successive challenges presented by
ecological fluctuations and growing demography after the shift to food
production. This formulation recognizes the appearance of the macroso-
ciety after considerable trial and error, and that the macrosociety encom-
passes and "exploits" its own and other microsoceties; these subordinated
units continue under the loose nature of the hegemony, a condition which
allows them to reproduce themselves. This situation Marx analyzed in eco-
nomic terms as co-existent modes of production, in which the macrosociety
represents the dominant form, but by no means the one including the most
people. Unlike the microsocieties, which are ecologically regionally rooted,
the macrosociety operates on the principle of coordinating and centralizing
control of resources from the cluster of microsocieties upon which it de-
pends. Put another way, the macrosociety energizes most of the accumu-
lated surpluses of the microsocieties that were heretofore "self-consumed"
through the redistribution process.
The broad outlines of the earliest appearances of the macrosociety on
the Peruvian coast (the earliest appearance of the state) are marked in the

272
revolutionary change in the settlement pattern that characterizes major sites
in Peru during the Early Intermediate and well into the Middle Horizon.
Large population centers (permanent residences for elites and retainers) re-
place one or more of the ceremonial centers, and their strategic location
leaves little doubt that the predominant elites who directed their construc-
tion, are no longer exclusively priests but aggressive administrators with
defense and intensification of resource management their goal rather than
resource renewability, as before. The new goal could often be achieved by
tribute from subordinated peoples. The transition to the state is well under
way.
Whether this initial breakthrough to state/macrosociety was gener-
ated in the south highland capital of Huari, (for which revolutionary settle-
ment pattern change evidence is now available (Lumbreras 1981) or
emerged out of a crisis situation analogous to what Price (1977) calls a
cluster-interaction model on the coast, is an issue that is hotly debated
among Andeanists and not yet resolved. The Andean case history does
show that about A.D. 800 the macrosociety first took shape. The highland
state of Huari arose by A.D. 750 and collapsed within a century, as did
most of its highland nodes before A.D. 1000. In the Cuzco region and on
the coast, Huari nodes lasted longer, and some upper middle valleys of the
central coast endured for 400 years (Stumer 1956). As Shimada has partly
documented for the Leche valley of the North Coast, Sican culture, which
became the pole of North Coast development in the Middle Horizon, rose
out of the ashes of the last capital of the Moche culture at Pampa Grande in
the next northern valley at an ancient ceremonial center dating back to
1000 B.C.
The degree of incipient statehood that can be attributed to the Tiahu-
anaco ceremonial center and nodes remains to be confirmed, although cur-
rent research being conducted under Kolata's direction (1993) has yet to
demonstrate that the flourishing ceremonial center at A.D. 600 developed
into an urban conglomerate approximating Huari in subsequent centuries as
some have proposed (e.g. Parsons 1968). Thus the state survived with dif-
ferential success on the coast but almost became eclipsed on the highlands
in the succeeding 600 years until the Incas in the early fifteenth century en-
gendered a workable highland model which bested the more commonly
found contiguous territorial state of the Chimu by 1480. How and where

273
the stream (thread) of continuity of the macrosocietal principles of human
engineering were kept alive in the south highlands for better than half a
millenium (if indeed that was the case and not that the Inca recapitulated
the Huari process of state formation), remains a major mystery in Andean
archaeology and ethnohistory unless one accepts the highly improbable
conjecture that Inka Yupangui adopted governance and spatial control prin-
ciples from the largest pre-existent Andean state: Chimor.
The evidence in Mesoamerica for successive trial and error in
achieving the macrosociety has been accumulating in recent decades. The
obvious case of the lowland Maya is well-documented in Tikal by Haviland
(1970) and Dzibalchaltun by Andrews (1968), where the culmination of
microsocietal growth results in a settlement configuration much like the
late Mochica capital of Pampa Grande. It exemplifies the same abortive at-
tempt at autogenous state formation as the Mochica. Similarly, recent work
at Monte Alban represents yet another example of microsocietal flores-
cence and collapse, however much the reigning interpretations pretend that
all three cases represent autogenous state formation (Andrews 1968;
Blanton 1976, 1978; Haviland 1970).

The Case Histories


One must move to an overview of the cartography and site seriation
of the several documented case histories of this transformation in Peru and
Mexico The leap was not made in Southwestern North America. The cul-
mination of microsocietal growth in the three major culture areas there re-
sulted in population increase, its concentration, and monumentality; but,
much like the example of Monte Alban above, no transformation to secu-
larization and the state.
In the case history of the North Coast of Peru, the ground plans of
the Mochica ceremonial centers (Panamarca (Schaedel 1951), Huaca del
Sol/Luna or Moche (Uhle 1913)) may be contrasted with the quasi-urban
ground plan of Pampa Grande (A.D. 500-750; Shimada 1978) to show the
positioning of the area for the marshalling of the manpower surplus and the
centrally located positioning of the unprotected "storage" (redistribution)
area as occupying the plaza area between the main ceremonial structures. A
certain kind of channelizing of the flow of people and products is implicit

274
in the bounding of the plaza area, more restricted in Pampa Grande than in
Moche, but generally speaking roads and corridors are formally absent.
Compare this ground plan to Keatinge and Day's (1973) plan of a major
compound of Chan Chan where the channeling features assume a crucial
role in the overall plan, and one has a graphic illustration of the kind of sys-
temic reordering that has been effected over the 500-600 years that separate
them as examples of settlement capitals for centralizing the elites and fun-
neling selected economic surpluses of large, complex hegemonies.
Admittedly we have jumped over approximately half a millenium of
accommodation for which a hypothetical multi-valley seriation of carto-
graphic models has been elaborated. The purpose here is to focus on the di-
agnostic systemic features in the cartography which reflect the systemic
change in social relationships that the urban "revolution" represents. The
case of the Mochica-Chimu transition to urbanism is used as an example of
the most frequent case of our few pristine examples in universal history, i.e.
where the transformation did not take place in situ.
To further explicate the nature of the transformation as we detect it
in the cartography, the case history of Teotihuacan is appropriate, since
here the transformation from theocratic center of paramount chiefdom to
capital of state did take place in situ. The plans of Teotihuacan prior to and
after what Millon (1970, 1981) called at first his "urban renewal" phase
may be contrasted. In this case, the focus of interest is on the functional
transformation of the plaza area again, which prior to the renewal seems to
have had a general assemblage or marshalling function along with being
the locus for the transformational activities of at least the obsidian workers.
In the post "remodeling" phase, the plaza has been converted into the first
"tianquis" or market area, which was to become the Mesoamerican node for
the channeling of surplus in future urban layouts. Again the case history
cartography does not yet lend itself to more than the grossest comparisons.
Teotihuacan represents our first illustration of urban transformation in situ,
but its heritage of half a millenium as a growing ceremonial center made it
an unwieldy mechanism for the coordination of the four urban functions
and it declines to collapse around A.D. 700. Again, as in the Andes, we are
faced with a gap of more than 500 years between the demise of spaced-out
Teotihuacan and the rise of a full-blown, dense Mexican city (Tenochtitlan)

275
to be filled in by future research, cartographic seriation, and correlation
with Mexico's rich codices.
This brief allusion to the two case histories of the "systemic" trans-
formation illustrates two points that need to be made in order to bring our
discussion of urbanization in the New World into comparative focus with
the Old World developments, and to relate the origin of cities to Sjoberg's
concept of the "achieved" preindustrial city. One is the 500 year gap be-
tween the original systemic transformation and the attainment of a uniform
high density city type for a major American region. The second is that the
magnitude of the systemic transformation was such that it generated suc-
cessive reaccommodations and relocations until a viable and functional
balance between urb and hinterland could be attained. In a review of the
Old World literature on the growth of cities, the late third and early second
millenium B.C. cities of Nineveh and Babylon represent the attainment of a
uniform Middle Eastern city type (Lampl 1968).
Despite (and indeed because of) his encompassing definition,
Sjoberg's (1960) preindustrial city as a societal type which represents a
high degree of stability cannot be invoked as a model for precolonial New
World urbanization except in its (New World's) final stages; it has its earli-
est New World applicability to the Near East sequence only after A.D. 100.
With this distinction in mind, one can equate Schaedel's use of the term
functional urbanism to Sjoberg's (1960) "preindustrial city." It was only
when all the dysfunctions concomitant with the "systemic transformation"
had been phased out that the macrosocietal form represented by the prein-
dustrial city becomes a meaningful conceptual tool to explain the dynamics
of complex society.

Generalizations and Conclusions


Although the archaeological and ethnohistorical evidence necessary
to fully document the case histories for the growth of cities and complex
societies in America is at best sketchy, we should recognize that forty-five
years ago it was all but absent. Comparisons of developments of early New
World cities with those of the Old World largely grew as a result of
Childe's challenging conceptualization of the process as an "urban revolu-
tion" at that time.

276
Not only has the American record been documented in at least some
of its broader outlines in the last three decades, but renewed emphasis on
explicating the urban "revolution" has been spurring research in the Middle
East, India, and China and produced an early state of the art summary in
Braidwood and Willey (1962). Robert Adams' (1966) benchmark study of
comparative urban developments in the Middle East and Mesoamerica re-
mains so far the only systematic attempt at comparisons between the two
worlds as does Katz's (1972) book, comparing diachronically the two high
civilizations of the Americas. Let us review in the mid-Nineties how Ad-
ams and Katz's findings have fared.
While Adams' conclusions tend to indicate that state and city forma-
tion in both Mesoamerica and Mesopotamia antedated the hydraulic devel-
opments that Wittfogel hypothesized to have caused the former, it can
probably now be stated that for the consolidation phase of the early state
(not its emergence) hydraulic intensification seems to have been the indis-
pensable technological breakthrough, supporting and guaranteeing stability
of the administrative elite (Schaedel 1987).
Comparing Katz' generalizations on contrasts in the Andes and
Mesoamerica with new findings, one can perceive a structural division in
what he saw as the parallel paths toward state formation between the Az-
tecs and Incas. This can be seen in the contrasting Huari state formation
with Teotihuacan, where a mononuclear state develops presumably domi-
nated by a mercantile elite. In Huari a multi-nodal pattern of widely scat-
tered regions presided over by a military-administrative elite (but wearing
the iconographic trappings of a church militant) best fits the presently re-
constructed image of the Andean pristine state. This prehistorical bifurca-
tion of what until then had been parallel routes of development (and which
may hearken back to even earlier structural differences) could explain the
contrast in the marked role of commerce and mercantilization in Aztec so-
ciety vs. the patrimonial (state-dominated yet flexible and economically du-
rable) Inca polity.
The issues of inequality in tribal, chiefdom-type and state societies
are implicitly intertwined with the emergence of cities and the origin of
complex societies in the New World and indeed everywhere the state first
emerged (Mesopotamia, Egypt, India, China, and Southeast Asia). As a
rule, the generalization of transition from ranked to stratified to class socie-

277
ties as marking a growth in the spread of the principle of socio-economic
inequality in the worldwide development of complex societies is substanti-
ated, but a review of the evidence, for the nature of pre-state societies and
non-state societies over time tended to substantiate the position that con-
straints (which still characterize peasant society and mode of production)
on permanent differentiation of the society into classes have probably been
the single most important factor impeding the autogenous growth of a
complex macrosociety.
Clastres'(1971) model of the archaeology of violence which was
used as a modular counterpoint to the Schaedel thesis was shown to be de-
rived more from ethnographic data than archaeological case histories. A re-
view of the world archaeological record shows violence (by which Clastres
means predatory warfare) as opposed to internecine raiding to be largely a
phenomenon of the period of early state formation. In short the archaeo-
logical evidence tends to confirm the view that egalitarian society preceded
non-egalitarian society, and the latter came about as an accommodation to
demographic pressures on cultivable land. The kind of transitional inegali-
tarian society that is characterized by the chiefdom societal type is marked
by differences in rank with certain lineages enjoying privileges and rights
over others over one or several generations, but not reflecting long-term hi-
erarchical stability. The basis for the permanent legitimization for inequal-
ity is developed with the creation of cities and the new societal type known
as the pristine state first through the emergence of estates and later classes,
which marked the rise of alienable real property.

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15

CYCLICAL TRANSFORMATIONS
IN NORTH AMERICAN PREHISTORY

Stephen A. Kowalewski

The great transformations of precolumbian Western Mesoamerica,


the Maya area, the Greater Southwest of North America, and the North
American Southeast are all accompanied by corporate/network polarity re-
versals. Reversals are macroregional phenomena, as all subregions are af-
fected. Between 1000 B.B. and A.D. 1520 Western Mesoamerican political
economy cycled, with two major corporate episodes. The Maya area's cycle
of political-economic transformations may not be synchronous with West-
ern Mesoamerica's. The Southwest trended toward increasingly corporate
organization, beginning after A.D. 900. The Southeast typically was domi-
nated by network strategies, with the possible exception of corporate forms
A.D. 700-1100. These concepts are of interest because they connect recent
ethnological theory to commonly occurring archaeological data. More
study is required of core-periphery and scale effects, cross-cultural regu-
larities, ecological implications, and explanations for reversals.

Research Context
1. Inadequacy of conventional evolutionary stages. Good theory re-
quires a correspondence between variability in the objects to be explained
and the terms of the explanation. If significant variability in the objects to
be explained is not comprehended in the terms of explanatory propositions,
then theory is over-generalized. This is the case with conventional evolu-
tionary stages, i.e. band, tribe, chiefdom, state. I will not belabor this criti-
cism, for archaeologists usually are not concerned with such textbook gen-
eralities when they offer explanations for phenomena of interest. But this is
282
precisely the point: the theory has little to do with the data and explanations
archaeologists typically use.

2. Inadequacy of orthogenic trends, such as increasing centraliza-


tion. Having studied the more than 3,000-year record of regional systems in
Oaxaca, Mexico, our research group has been skeptical of propositions that
sociocultural evolution must move in a determined direction. Increasing
centralization? During the early centuries of state formation in the Valley
of Oaxaca, some political functions were taken from lower levels and con-
centrated at a single place, Monte Albán, the capital. But in the Early Clas-
sic period the Monte Albán state increased its scale by decentralizing many
of its functions. The regional system underwent another episode of growth
in the Late Postclassic by further political decentralization and abandon-
ment of the whole notion of a single regional capital. Profound changes
here and elsewhere in Mesoamerica sometimes involved increasing cen-
tralization, but often they did not (Kowalewski 1990). Likewise, in the
Southeastern United States, the largest, regionally dominating chiefly head
towns, with the greatest amount of public investment in civic-ceremonial
architecture, occurred early in the Mississippian period. The trend through
the 600 years of the Mississippian period was toward smaller but more nu-
merous chiefly centers (Smith 1978).
Similarly, technological innovation in Oaxaca was not an orthogenic
trend. The rise of the state in Oaxaca after 500 B.C. was based on no new
technological developments. The process involved the deployment of agri-
cultural technology that had been known for many centuries and, more sig-
nificantly, new ways of organizing labor. The inventory of agricultural
technology in fact changed very little over three thousand years of rather
tumultuous Mesoamerican cultural evolution (Blanton et al. 1993; see also
Flannery 1983).

3. Inadequacy of concepts where power is collective or anonymous.


Conventional evolutionary stage theory in American anthropology best re-
flects ethnographic areas where power is publicly visible, personified, uni-
tary, relatively undifferentiated, and closely associated with wealth, status
and prestige. For example, Sahlins' (1958) early work on social stratifica-
tion in Polynesia was used by Peebles and Kus (1977) to operationalize the

283
chiefdom and ranked society for the archaeological study of chiefly socie-
ties in the Mississippian Southeast. Indeed, the Peebles and Kus model
does seem to connect neatly with the archaeological record of the middle
and later phases of Mississippian society (although perhaps not the Missis-
sippian emergence - Pauketat 1994), and the concepts of chiefdom and
ranked society served well for Southeastern archaeologists.
However, the concepts of chiefdom and ranked society are not ap-
plied widely in the Greater Southwest, not because archaeologists are un-
aware, but because the terms do not fit the Southwestern ethnographic or
archaeological records. While archaeologists are quite comfortable talking
about Mississippian "chiefdoms", Chaco is still a neutral "phenomenon".
The rank-laden burial treatments, the elevated chiefs' residences, the chiefly
iconography, and the sixteenth-century Spanish descriptions of chiefs set
apart from the rest of society so apparent in the Southeast are generally ab-
sent in the Southwest. Yet Southwestern societies were complex (I use the
term technically) in ways that are not characteristic of egalitarian tribes.
Southwestern societies had differentiated, multiple, hierarchically organ-
ized cults, sodalities, and political organizations; multi-tiered regional set-
tlement hierarchies; sometimes heavy investment in public works and pub-
lic architecture; and the capability of large-scale, coordinated military ac-
tion (Ortiz 1979, 1983). In the last two decades Southwestern archaeolo-
gists have experimented with quite a few new concepts to comprehend
these societies, including alliances (Upham 1982), confederacies (Spiel-
mann 1994), sequential hierarchies (Johnson 1989), segmentary societies
(Rice 1998), heterarchy (Crumley 1998), corporate/network (Feinman
1997a; 1997b), municipality or comunidad (Fish and Fish 1998), etc. Per-
haps for no ethnographic case in the Southwest is the debate more robust
than it is over the question of Hopi politics (Whitely 1988, Levy 1992,
Rushforth 1992), to the extent that authors speak of stratification in egali-
tarian societies. These debates show need for greater theoretical and con-
ceptual development.

4. Comparative generality and links to commonly occurring ar-


chaeological data. It is assumed here that the anthropological objective is
to explain variability in cultural systems across space and over time. It is
assumed that human experience is unitary in the sense that cultural systems

284
are part of the same universe whether they are known historically or
archaeologically, although not all types of cultural systems are exemplified
in the ethnographic or historical records. However, it is the particular task
of archaeologists to account for the change over the long term, and to ac-
count for variability in the commonly occurring material objects and rela-
tionships in the archaeological record. Concepts and theories that do not
have specific implications for the great bulk of the archaeological record
are our equivalent of medieval metaphysics.

The Corporate-Network Dimension


5. Political-economic strategies. By strategies I mean aims and prac-
tice of social actors, social actors being people carrying out the roles of
their positions. The social actor is not the American "individual", nor the
psychological or psychiatric individual, but a person performing in a capac-
ity or a variety of capacities toward ends that are shaped by the actor's
status. How actors are able to put people and resources together to accom-
plish one thing rather than another is a highly creative yet typically quite
constrained process. Political-economic strategies refer both to the actions
of social agents and to the already reproduced paths or structures created by
this and previous social action. This is a conceptual attempt to speak simul-
taneously of behavior as potentially creative and structure as reproduced
outcome. Actors typically have the ability to put people and resources to-
gether in limited and constrained ways, toward ends that are also limited
and constrained. In given cultural settings, power may be built in some
ways but not others. A point that Richard Blanton has been making recently
is that cross-culturally, getting things done in given settings tends to be
constrained toward two main strategies, corporate and network (Blanton
1994; Blanton et al. 1992; Blanton et al. 1996), both with a wide range of
material manifestations.

6. Corporate strategies. Actors assemble other people and resources


internally, inclusively, by emphasizing commonality, by pooling labor from
various constituencies, and by work in the production of general surplus.
Corporate strategies build political-economic power collectively, and
power may be occluded or ideologically anonymous. There is a stress on

285
theoretical egalitarianism. The emphasis is on staple production, including
staple food production, and the types of exchange reflect this. Authorities
are able to control movement and boundaries. Domestic architecture exhib-
its formal simplification and standardization. Rituals tend to be participa-
tory and serve to relate individuals and groups to the whole. Cosmovisions
are universalizing, often featuring quite generalized principles and forces,
including female symbolic emphasis and fertility cults in keeping with the
economic emphasis on agricultural production. The means of symbolic
communication tend to be canonical, repeating widely accepted and stan-
dardized premises, and this applies widely to art, performance, and use of
systematized writing and language.

7. Network strategies. Power is assembled by exchanging values


across the boundaries of various and multiple groups. Group identities and
membership are distinguishing and exclusionary, and are maintained by de-
scent and ethnicist rhetoric. Competitive actors draw on multiple institu-
tional connections, so that coalitions and alliances tend to be temporary,
and individualized. Groups compete for labor. Mechanisms such as patri-
archy and indexical status display act to control and motivate work, and
these strategies are materialized in funerary practices, houses, clothing, and
art. Cross-boundary exchange is lively and difficult for authorities to con-
trol. Wealth is enhanced by exchange at a distance, therefore, unlike
"home" production, the emphasis is on exchange for light, small, high-
value goods and information. Investment in technologies of commercial-
izeable goods and services thus is more important than in corporate strate-
gies. Ideological systems are particularizing, localizing, with multiple cults.

8. Strategies and outcomes vs. societal types. "Corporate" and "net-


work" are not societal types. They are strategies, which have structural out-
comes, and both strategies are found in all types of societies, from bands to
states, and at all levels of integration from households to the modern world
system. Because it is difficult for agents to act effectively while carrying
out conflicting aims by incompatible means, and because the culturally de-
fined currencies of exchange only permit value to be accumulated in certain
ways, corporate and network strategies are dialectically opposed. Either
one or the other is the predominate form in a given social setting, especially

286
at a single level of sociocultural integration. However, in complex societies
actors may employ corporate strategies to organize cohesive sub-groups,
which in turn operate vis-a-vis each other in network fashion. This is the
case with the closed corporate communities of colonial Mesoamerica (Wolf
1957), which used this strategy to defend themselves against outside pow-
erful network operators and the state. Similarly, the large, twentieth-
century business corporation uses corporate strategies internally to marshall
its labor (rewards, company ideologies, participatory rituals, security, ano-
nymity), but the same business corporation is embedded in a wider network
of financial capitalism that treats bounded entities with disdain. In this
world setting, corporately organized power is difficult to maintain for very
long.
Insofar as individual actors have varying roles in different institu-
tions that are organized in network or corporate ways, they will need to be-
have in appropriate ways in the corporate or network context. For example,
the Balkan stem-family patriarch attempts to enforce a kind of corporate
discipline internally, while using the household wealth so generated in net-
work exchange and personal aggrandizement in the larger scene.
Historically, within major world-systems (e.g. Mesoamerica, China),
the dominant modes of production and exchange in core zones are often
corporate, while in frontiers or peripheries network strategies of production
and exchange predominate. However, core zone polities may collapse and
re-organize as a network of smaller states, and periphery elite may attempt
to organize their base polities using corporate principles (Blanton et al.
1992).
The observations in this section should be kept in mind in viewing
Figure 1, which is a graphical representation of the archaeologically most
prominent outcomes of corporate and network strategies. These material
patterns are based on cases from macroregional cores, not peripheries; and
they reflect the highest levels of integration that left the biggest mark in the
archaeological record. I return to these restrictions in sections 13-16 below,
after describing the archaeological data behind the curves in Figure 1.

287
Four North American Areas (Figure 1)

9. Maya. The Maya trajectory of predominate strategies is restricted


to the polity level, and is based on public architecture at polity capitals, de-
gree of individuality in iconography and burials, and public writing and art
(see Morley et al. 1983). The wide, open plazas and monumental construc-
tion of the Late Preclassic chiefdoms and the ChichЋn Itza confederacy in-

288
dicate wider participation in civic-ceremonial activities than the small pla-
zas, closed courtyards, and palaces of Classic capitals such as Tikal and
Palenque (Blanton et al. 1993:158-200). Rulers' names and deeds carved in
stone are typical of the Classic period, but not earlier or later (see Marcus
1992). This suggests two episodes of corporate state-building, probably
with network principles dominating in the earlier Preclassic, Classic, and
Late Postclassic. It seems likely to me, however, that relations of produc-
tion and exchange at a level below he polity and macroregionally wider
than any polity, persistently were organized along network lines (Blanton
et al. 1993:197-200).

10. Central Mexico. This area includes the Basin of Mexico through
Oaxaca, and it is more fully described elsewhere (references in Blanton et
al. 1996, esp. Sanders et al. 1979). The archaeological data used for the
corporate-network dimension in the Valley of Oaxaca are the richest sim-
ply because this is the area most familiar to me. The trajectory in Figure 1
refers only to strategies at the polity level.
This area was heavily involved in the "Olmec" interaction sphere of
ca. 1000-800 B.C. (Sharer and Grove 1989). Prestige goods and ranking
principles are widely shared. After about 800 B.C., Mesoamerica seems to
regionalize, and about 500 B.C. many regions undergo major settlement
system reorganizations, including in the Valley of Oaxaca, where a new
scale of polity is established at Monte Albán. My colleagues Richard
Blanton, Gary Feinman, and Linda Nicholas, in a book to be published by
Cambridge (Blanton et al. 1998) argue that this was the time of state forma-
tion and that the early Monte Albán state was built using corporate ideol-
ogy and political-economic strategy (see a somewhat different interpreta-
tion by our colleagues Marcus and Flannery, 1996). The Terminal Pre-
classic period across Mesoamerica has more evidence of warfare between
polities organized as states or complex chiefdoms, before Teotihuacan
emerges as the dominant state for 700 years. Teotihuacan's massive public
architecture, universalizing rather than particularizing iconography, stan-
dardization, and anonymous power make it the quintessential corporate
state. The Postclassic sees a Balkanization of state power, with petty king-
doms and a growing, multi-institutional network of relations between re-
gions. Historical sources (e.g. Durán 1967) are replete with instances of

289
how Aztec state rulers attempted to build on top of this network a larger,
more powerful state using corporate principles, for example, recasting of
origin myths as inclusive and universalizing, state attempts to control
sumptuaries and precious rewards, avoidance of a cult of the ruler after
death, re-emphasis on the female fertility cult, etc.

11. Southwest. Unlike the trajectories for the previous two cases, that
for the Southwest refers to how communities were organized, not regional
polities. The curve depicts a network early sedentary period followed by a
time when community organization became increasingly corporate, as
manifest in the pithouse to pueblo transition (e.g. Whalen 1981), increasing
scale and standardization of community architecture (Doyel 1987, Adler
1996), and evidence of unifying cults (Adams 1991). Investment in com-
munity-level integrative facilities increases. How communities were organ-
ized as larger polities is still an outstanding question, but there is plenty of
evidence for complex and hierarchically differentiated settlement systems
and civic-ceremonial institutions (Wills and Leonard 1994). Yet the politi-
cal organization of regions is not clear, Rarely did multi-community
Southwestern regional polities construct unifying public architecture sym-
bolizing the polity, and leadership at the community and regional scale
seems decidedly anonymous, perhaps because regional collective action
and governance was sporadic and weak, and perhaps because the conversa-
tions between leaders were purposefully kept hidden and anonymous ac-
cording to the same principles operating within communities (cf. Feinman
1997a,b).

12. Southeast. The Southeastern curve in Figure 1 refers only to the


polity level, not to community or macroregional scales. Although it is in-
triguing to consider Archaic and earlier Woodland period political-
economies in terms of what strategies could have been employed, I will not
do so here. Middle Woodland economies have long been described as ex-
change spheres of preciosities (Caldwell and Hall 1964), with elaborate
burials commemorating Big Men. Those networks disappear in the Late
Woodland, during which time there is evidence for considerable tumult in
settlement systems, and violence (Nassaney and Cobb 1991). Attempts to
deal with this somewhat chaotic world by organizing fairly large, corporate

290
polities are represented by several Late Woodland and Emergent Missis-
sippian centers, such as Toltec (Nassaney 1991) and Cahokia (Emerson and
Lewis 1991). Early Cahokia seems to have had wide public participation in
civic-ceremonial activities, emphasis on intensive maize production, and
power more anonymous and distributed than in the focal, individual-
oriented chiefdoms of later Mississippian times such as at Etowah or the
chiefs met by DeSoto's expedition of 1540 (Hudson 1997). My colleague
Charles Hudson has embarked on a comparative historical study of what he
terms the "coalescent societies" of the 18th century, when remnant groups
descendent from the old chiefdoms pulled together using obviously corpo-
rate political strategies to face English, French, and Spanish operators in
this new frontier of the modern world system. Interestingly, while the pol-
ity forms included elaborate confederacies with councils, moieties, and
other means of collective power, European guns, money, and prestige
goods fueled intense, individualizing network competition.
Although draw as curves over time, these cycles of dominant politi-
cal-economic strategies differ from conventional characterizations of social
systems. Therefore, before drawing a few conclusions, I first re-emphasize
several limitations.

Restrictions
13. Scale and level of integration. The central Mexican, Mayan, and
Southeastern cases are restricted to dominant political-economic strategies
at the level of the tribal, chiefly, or state polity; for reasons described above
the Southwestern case focuses only on the community.

14. Archaeological visibility. Activities that are not well material-


ized, too sporadic, or not regularly reproduced over the long run will not
show up as patterns in the archaeological record. Where political-economic
activity-power-building-is socially suppressed, as in many hunter-gatherer
groups, this aspect of social life may be difficult to discern archaeologi-
cally, or vested in collective councils or ad hoc meetings.

15. Core vs. periphery. The columns in Figure 1 apply to core poli-
ties; peripheries may be organized differently. Spiro, a chiefly center and
gateway at the western end of the Mississippian world, has famous

291
amounts of buried prestige goods, and less maize emphasis (Rankin-Hill
1997) than contemporary chiefdoms in the heart of the macroregional sys-
tem. Communities to the west of the Chacoan sphere were part of the
Greater Southwestern world but organized themselves quite differently,
perhaps in reaction to Chacoan events (Wilcox 1996). Western Meso-
america was constituted by multiple core regions separated from each other
like valley islands in a mountain sea, and groups in the mountains tended to
emphasize network connections (Blanton et al. 1992).

16. Explanation. General explanations for these phenomena will re-


quire further cross-cultural study of patterns and regularities in political-
economic cycles. Corporate political economies seem vulnerable when
confronted by multiple network competitors and internal factions that may
profit by linking to the outside. New technologies that make less costly the
provision of goods and services may weaken corporate power. Network-
dominated regions are sometimes so ridden by violence that people may
adopt new, corporate political forms to secure regular social and economic
interaction.

Conclusions
17. Polar reversals and great transformations. Archaeologists rec-
ognize that general evolutionary stage typologies under-represent the dy-
namics of regional and macroregional sequences. Not all the major social
transformations in the archaeological record are evolutionary stage transi-
tions. Many major transformations, however, are apparently also polar
shifts in dominant political-economic strategies. Finer-grained studies of
particular regions may reveal cycles obscured by the generalized graphic of
Figure 1.
In the four areas discussed in this paper, the major transformations
accompanied by a network to corporate polar shift include, in the Maya
area, the rise of the first large centers and the ChichЋn Itza state; in central
Mexico the rise of the Monte Albán, Teotihuacan, and Aztec states; in the
Southwest, the pithouse to pueblo transition; and in the Southeast, the Mis-
sissippian emergence.
The major societal transformations accompanied by the opposite,

292
corporate to network shift include, for the Maya area, the florescence of
Classic Maya culture around the beginning of the Classic and the expansion
again in the Late Postclassic; in central Mexico the Terminal Preclassic
phase of militarism growing economic networks, and the collapse of the
regional states into the Epi-Classic and Postclassic periods; in the Southeast
the rise of the Hopewell interaction sphere and later the establishment of
the hereditary chiefs of the Mississippian period and the Southeastern
Ceremonial Complex (Galloway 1989).
Notice in Figure 1 that the timing and duration of corporate-network
cycles is apparently independent of evolutionary stages. These cycles also
vary between the four culture areas. That there is some difference between
the Maya area and Oaxaca/Central Mexico indicates a degree of disjunction
within the Mesoamerican macroregion. Polar shifts in political-economic
strategies by no means account for all the dynamics of the archaeological
record, but many of the major transformations are associated with these cy-
cles, to a greater extent that with evolutionary stage transitions or innova-
tions in basic technologies.

18. Dual process. I am not advocating the neglect of other methodo-


logical and theoretical approaches that have proven useful for the compara-
tive understanding of prehistory. In particular, I find especially useful the
systems analysis employed in our Oaxaca settlement pattern work
(Kowalewski et al. 1989), a conscious attention to human ecology, and a
historical materialist theoretical approach. But we have made an effort to
point out that cultural settings dominated by network strategies and institu-
tions are distinct regimes, requiring anthropologists to use somewhat dis-
tinct theoretical principles, from cultural setting dominated by corporate
regimes, for which other laws apply (Blanton et al. 1996).

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16

EARLY STATE IN THE CLASSIC MAYA


LOWLANDS: EPIGRAPHIC AND
ARCHAEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE

Dmitriy Beliaev

In the study of politogenesis and the history of early states, data from
the New World always has a very important place. Like the Ancient East
this area presents one of the rare examples of the pristine formation of
complex sociopolitical organization. Major discoveries of the last decades
in the archaeology and history of Southeastern Mesoamerica have greatly
changed our understanding of it's cultural developement. It bears not only
on the problem of the origin of complex sociopolitical organization, but
also it's further developement in the Classic period (200/250 - 900/1000
A.D.).
Most significant is a revolution in Maya studies connected with the
decipherment of Mayan hieroglyphic writing by Yu.V. Knorozov in 1952.
A long and difficult process of incorporating the epigraphy in to the circle
of historical and anthropological disciplines was completed only in the 80-
90-s. Even if hieroglypic inscriptions are not applicable in for the study of
socioeconomic structures, for political history and political organization of
ancient Maya society they are invaluable. For no other archaic society do
we have such an exact chronology. Detailed accounts of rituals, accessions
and wars give us a complete picture of the work of Classic Maya political
mechanisms. These data are also very important for our understanding of
the image of power in the Classic period and the role of ideology in early
state societies.
The Maya Lowlands is a vast area which includes southern Mexico
(the states of Chiapas, Tabasco, Campeche and Yucatan), the northern de-
partments of Guatemala, Belize and a part of Honduras. It is a limestone

297
plain about 90-200 m above the sea level. The greater part is covered with
humid tropical forests (selva). The main rivers flow on the west
(Usumasinta), on the south (Pasion), and on the east (Hondo, Belize, Mota-
gua), while the centre of the Maya area is full of swampy places and lakes.
The Lowlands are divided into six large regions: 1. Peten or Central region
(with the main sites of Tikal, Uaxactun, Calakmul, Naranjo, Motul de San
Jose, Rio Azul); 2. Pasion River drainage (Altar de Sacrificios, Dos Pilas,
Aguateca, Ceibal, Arroyo de Piedra, Tamarindito); 3. Usumasinta River
drainage or Western region (Tonina, Palenque, Pomona, Piedras Negras,
Yaxchilan, Bonampak, Lacanja); 4. Belize (Caracol, Altun Ha, Colha, Pu-
silha); 5. Motagua River drainage or Southeastern region (Copan and
Quirigua); and 6. Yucatan (a lot of sites on the north of the peninsula).
The population belongs to the Mayan (Maya-Quiche) language fam-
ily. According to linguistical reconstructions, in the 1st millenium A.D. it
was an area of interaction of protoyucatecan (north) and protocholan
(south) dialects with the wide buffer zone between.
In the history of Maya civilization we traditionally recognize three
main periods:
1. Formative or Preclassic (1500 B.C. - 200/250 A.D.) which is divided
into the early phase (1500 - 700 B.C.), middle phase (700 - 200 B.C.),
late phase (200 - 0 B.C.) and protoclassic (0 - 200/250 A.D.).
2. Classic period (200/250 - 900/1000A.D.) with early phase (200/250 -
600 A.D.), late phase (600 - 850 A.D.) and terminal phase (850 - 1000
A.D.).
3. Postclassic period (900/1000 - 1530 A.D.) with early phase (900/1000 -
1200 A.D.) and late phase (1200 - 1530 A.D.)
There are currently two models of Classic Maya political organiza-
tion widespreaded among the specialists. The first defends the existence of
several large regional states with an administrative hierarchy characterized
by first, second and third-level sites. It is based mainly on the archaeologi-
cal data and a "conditional reading" of the hieroglyphic inscriptions. The
most elaborated form can be found in the recent work of Joyce Marcus
(1993). She proposes to create a model based on the Lowland Maya them-
selves" (1993:116), but in our opinion makes two important errors. First,
she identifies the apogee of political organization with the large centralized
polity and, second, she uses the pre-conquest situation as a pattern for her

298
reconstructions. Such an essay should be based primarily on the informa-
tion of the Classic writing sources.
Although J. Marcus had earlier made a considerable contribution to
the school of "conditional reading" in American epigraphy she is not a real
specialist in hieroglyphic studies. Unfortunately she uses all the methods of
the 1960-s and 1970-s - arbitrary interpretation of the separate glyphs with-
out their context, the absence of real readings of the texts and so on. Mar-
cus builts her construction of the regional hierarchies on the mentions of
the "Emblem Glyphs" (see later) in the inscriptions of other sites. So, for
example, she places Tonina in the regional state of Palenque, but Tonina
records the name of an individual from the neighbouring town, not the
town itself. As we shall demonstrate later the situation was quite the re-
verse.
Peter Mathews (1991) offered another model, which is supported by
the other epigraphists - David Stuart, Steven Houston, as well as by the au-
thor of this article. The reading and study of hieroglyphic inscriptions and
the supporting archaeological data give an opportunity to research the an-
cient Maya sociopolitical organization from different dimensions - from the
"ideal image" of the system of titles, reconstructing political history and
verifying the information of the writing sources with the help of archae-
ology.
The Classic Maya Lowlands consisted of several dozen different po-
litical units. The rulers of these polities had "Emblem Glyphs" - special ti-
tles which signified "a holy lord of X place" or "a holy X lord". According
to this, originally all of them were equal. It is very significant that
Mathews’ list resembles the list of V.I. Guliaev, who used only archaeo-
logical traits (size, palace complexes, royal burials, monumental architec-
ture and sculpture) (1979:120-126). The loss of independence was accom-
panied by the lost of "Emblem Glyph", as happend with Lacanha
(Usumasinta valley). After its defeat by Yaxchilan in 727 A.D. this polity
by 743 A.D. became a dependancy of Bonampak. From this time the title
"holy lord of Xucalna" passed to the Bonampak kings.
As with the Postclassic Guatemala Highlands, the Classic nobility
were called ahawoob (plural from ahaw "lord"). This was noted by Knoro-
zov and Ershova (1986) as well as by D. Stuart (1993:320). The real differ-
ence was between the ahaw elite and the holy king k'ul/ch'ul ahaw. The

299
prerogatives of using "Emblem Glyphs" were given only to the members of
the royal lineage, including the king's daughters. The heir had the title ch'ok
ahaw or "unripe, young lord". The supreme ruler was considered a personi-
fication of his deified ancestors and as a sacred person himself.
A number of works have demonstrated that there had been larger
formations in the Maya Lowlands. They were created for short periods by
conquest or interdynastic marriages (Houston 1993; Grube 1996; Schele
and Freidel 1991:146-159, 165-215). Simon Martin and Nikolai Grube
(Grube 1996 : 10-15) offered an hypothesis that is intermediate between
those of Marcus and Mathews. According to them there were two giant po-
litical hierarchies with the capitals at Tikal and Uaxactun. In the VIth -
VIIIth centuries A.D. they united all the important Lowland Maya cities.
In these cases subordinated rulers retained their autonomy and "Em-
blem Glyphs". Their ties with the hegemony are only the title yahaw "his
lord" or "vassal" and the overlord's auspices of their enthronements. A
typical example of such a hegemony in the Western region is the rapid
growth of Tonina in the beginning of the VIII century A.D. In 711 K'an
Hok' of Palenque was captured and, possibly, sacrificed. His architectural
projects were finished by some nobleman who did not belong to the ruling
dynasty, and the heir of the Palenque throne, Akul Anab (III) did not ac-
ceede till 722. In 715 the Bonampak ruler, in his inscription, called himself
yahaw of K'inich Baknal Chaak, holy lord of Tonina. But by the end of the
720-s there were no mentions of Tonina dominance in the hieroglyphic
texts of the Western region. In the peak of it's expansion Tonina dominated
it's rival and neighbour for 12 years and controlled the territory as far as the
Usumasinta River (about 100 km to the east).
The question "Could these formations evolve to the large regional
states?" still remains open, but I think we should not over-estimate their po-
tential and stability. The same yahaw title was personal and described the
relationship between two individuals, but not political structures. For ex-
ample, in the inscription on the Stela 2 of Arroyo de Piedra (Pasion River
region) the local ruler is called yahaw of the deceased king of neighbouring
Dos Pilas.
Unfortunately the internal structure of the Classic Maya polities is
not very clear. The most interesting writing evidence proceeds from the
Western region but, in contrast, the best archaeological excavations were

300
realized on the opposite side of the Maya area - in the Belize River valley
(Ball and Taschek 1991; Ford 1991). They revealed several territorial
communities (150-300 sq.km each) with complex settlement and socioeco-
nomic patterns. A new settlement hierarchy was constructed on data from
the Mopan-Macal valley (Ball and Taschek 1991).
• Mound group - the lowest element - consists of 5-20 households and
probably reflects the community. They regularly include plazuela
groups - community headmen's residential compounds. Associated arti-
facts (marine shell, ceramics etc.) indicate a higher status for their occu-
pants than that among the commoners.
• Plaza groups are larger and architecturally more elaborated compounds
which occur both in rural areas and in the urban centers. They are also
characterized by restricted access from the countryside. The materials
suggest high "absolute" status for their inhabitants but different "rela-
tive" positions reflected in a group's elaborateness and monumentality.
• Regal-residential center - isolated palace or acropolis-like complex in
the rural area. Ball and Taschek describe them as "introverted" sites "of
socioceremonial, funerary and devotional activities as well as residence"
with a primary role as "rural, high-level, elite-residence complex"
(Ibid:151). They also provide housing for the dependent serving, lower
status population, but associated significant "town" is absent. In con-
trast, the capital of the Mopan-Macal valley community Buenavista del
Cayo was a multifunctional "urban" settlement (regal-ritual center).
About 7% of it's area was dedicated to craft activities including attached
palace masters and non-elite urban specialists. These two last types also
have from one to four special buildings of probable administra-
tive/adjudicative functions (Ibid.:150-157).
We see a very similar picture in the neighbouring zones (El Pilar,
Baking Pot, Pacbitun, Las Ruinas de Arenal). It seems that all of them were
territorial, not political units, and some were parts of Naranjo polity. This is
clear from the inscriptions on two polychrome vessels found in an elite bur-
ial at Buenavista. A text on the polychrome plate from Holmul (30 km to
the north from Naranjo) tells that in the second half of the VIII century it
was ruled by the son of the Naranjo king. Naranjo, Holmul and Buenavista
form a single ceramic group (Zacatel series). Each of these towns had a
proper "palace school" which used local clays and tecnical and stylistical
301
methods. It may be that subordinated lords had no right to erect hiero-
glyphic monuments and their ties with the overlord were reflected in the
parade ceramics (Ball 1993:249-252).
The socioeconomic structure of Naranjo polity also was rather com-
plex. The similarity of the burial patterns at the plazuela and plaza groups
indicates that statuses of community leaders and secondary elite were very
close. Such a "wealth" item as obsidian was found in 56% of all households
in El Pilar "district". In the valley and uplands, where the majority of the
population lived, the proportion is even higher - 78%. But the elite contin-
ued to control obsidian procurement (trade) and elaboration. A specialized
obsidian-working complex, El Laton, was situated 4.5 km to the south of El
Pilar and was dominated by the elite residential compound like the regal-
residential centers of the Buenavista "district". In contrast, the pattern of
chert production and distribution is highly decentralized - unfinished cores
and hammers are mainly concentrated in the foothill zone. Probably chert
tools - most important for the rural utilitarian and agricultural needs - were
produced on the household level, not by full-time specialists (Ford
1991:37, 42). The same picture is seen in the ceramic industry - specialized
workshops existed only in the large urban centers and they were connected
primarily with the elite need for polychrome vessels. The rest of the society
used the pottery made by non-attached craftsmen in the communities (Ball
1993:258-260). All this corresponds to the model of Prudence Rice (1987):
a decentralized system where the central power controls only the "prestige"
sector of economics. In the "commodity" sector there was no full-time, bar-
rio-like specialization or hierarchical distribution. The main role was
played by local exchange, kinship tie's networks and so on (Ibid.:76-80).
Thus, in the east of the Maya area we find a large polity with the
centre at Naranjo. It consisted of 6 or 7 "districts" and occupied about 4000
sq. km. It has a five-level settlement hierarchy with three central-place set-
tlements between the capital and local communities. We think that at least
two elements of this hierarchy - regal-residential centers and plaza groups -
were not connected with the local "natural" development of the political
organization. Plaza groups do not have enough space to accomodate the ru-
ral population during religious ceremonies and all their ceremonial archi-
tecture is related only to ancestor rites of no more than one extended fam-
ily. So it is more possible that plaza groups had only political-

302
administrative functions.
Territorial communities of the Belize River area strongly resemble
"original" simple chiefdoms. We see the evolution of the Naranjo polity
from such a chiefdom through the unification of neighboring chiefdoms
and to the early state. The evidence for complex chiefdom organization in-
clude the first hieroglyphic inscriptions and construction of a new acropolis
complex. In the beginning of it's history Naranjo acted as a vassal of pow-
erful Calakmul in it's struggle with Tikal, but in 590 - 630 A.D. new polity
also pretends to be a ruling power of the Peten region. At this time the his-
tory of the Naranjo dynasty was rewritten. In the large text on Altar 1
(CMHI 2 : 86-87)"Celestial Tapir" was proclaimed the official ancestor of
the royal lineage who acceeded in 21469 B.C. One of his descendants
founded the city of Maxam (Naranjo) in 259 B.C. All these changes were
made during the long reign of Ah...- sa (547? - 630?). The new conception
of Naranjo history was emphasized by double genealogical tradition - he
was named both 8th and 35th ruler of the dynasty. After the defeat of Na-
ranjo by Caracol in 626-637 A.D. the Belize River chiefs regain their inde-
pendence and we observe a short local flowering at Buenavista and Las Ru-
inas. Revitalization of Naranjo in the end of the VIIth century was accom-
panied by the establishment of new settlement patterns in the Belize valley
and spreading of political fronteers of the Naranjo state.
Another important region of the Maya Lowlands is the Usumasinta
River drainage. According to J. Marcus it consisted of two regional states
(Palenque and Yaxchilan / Piedras Negras). This division really reflects
two physical and geographical zones - Usumasinta valley and southeastern
subregion but have nothing to do with the political structure of the Classic
period. A number of epigraphic works in the 1960-s - 1980-s demonstrated
that the region was shared among several polities, sometimes united in very
weak hierarchies but mostly independent.
Late tradition attributes the foundation of the local dynasties to the
IVth - Vth centuries A.D., but the hieroglyphic inscriptions, monumental
sculpture and other indicators of complex sociopolitical structure appear
only in the VIth - VIIth centuries. The main peculiarity of Usumasinta texts
is their great attention to non-royal nobility. P. Mathews, D. Stuart and
S. Houston revealed three types of titles of this social group - sahal, ah
k'ulna, anab (Stuart 1993:329-332). The most interesting is sahal category.

303
These persons act practically like the supreme rulers - they accede, wage
wars and so on. We know about 8 "seatings" or "enterings" to sahalil (sa-
hal ship ): 1) El Cayo (in 689, 729, 764 and 772 A.D.) an unknown town
(730 A.D.) in Piedras Negras realm; 2) Laxtunich (in 786) in the Yaxchilan
realm; 3) Lacanha (in 743) in the Bonampak realm. All this shows that sa-
haloob (plural from sahal) were a kind of subordinated rulers. But what
kind? What were their relations with the supreme ruler?
I analyzed 32 inscriptions from Piedras Negras, Yaxchilan and
Bonampak areas. The most frequent are mentions of sahaloob (74%), then
comes ah k'ulna'oob (11%) and anaboob (15%). According to these re-
cords sahaloob existed not only in our 3 cities. As all three titles were used
in posessive constructions "his X of holy king", it is clear that they have a
lower status. Like ahaw they could be inherited only by the male line : we
know about 3 sahal women and one ah k'ulna. The functions of sahal are
the exact copy of the king's versions but on a smaller scale, while anab and
ah k'ulna are mainly companions and subordinates of their lords. Very of-
ten they are the sculptors and scribes but sahal never was. It confirms that
sahaloob were dependent "provincial" rulers; some of them could erect
their own monuments. The difference with vassals-yahawoob is clear
enough: there was no special "vassalship", they continued to be "holy
lords".
The rank of provincial lord could also be inherited. Such dynasties
existed at El Cayo (a.650 - 729 A.D. and 764 - a.800 A.D.), Lacanha (a.730
- a.760 A.D.). What was the level of control of the supreme ruler over his
underlords? O. Chinchilla and S. Houston suggested that in the Piedras Ne-
gras polity they were replaced simultane-ously and it could be timed to the
king's accession. Also the post of sahal may not have been for life - for ex-
ample El Cayo ruler Chaac Tun died in 4 years after the new inauguration
(Chinchilla, Houston 1992:66-68). In the case of Lacanha, which was men-
tioned earlier, I see an example of the formation of a larger centralized pol-
ity - after the military defeat the city was joined to one of the neighbouring
states and it's kul ahawoob became the subordinated rulers.
Sahaloob of the Late Classic period strongly resemble bataboob of
Pre-conquest Yucatan, but we see a considerable difference. It may be that
for the Postclassic system, batab was the key figure, but this is not at all the
case for the Usumasinta valley polities. The Late Classic title and post did

304
not exist independently, it was always connected with "holy king". We
think that the institution of sahaloob was artificial in the ancient Maya po-
litical organization. They replaced a part of yahpo'oob (yahawoob) of the
Early Classic and changed the character of the power structure. The data
from Yaxchilan Early Classic "chronicle" on Lintels 60, 49, 37, 35 (CMHI
3:103,105,107; Tate 1992:170) may in some aspects reflect these proc-
esses. In this inscription the lords from other cities and from Yaxchilan are
mentioned together. The first seven Yaxchilan rulers (320 - a.470) had
dealings with the kings themselves, the 8th, 9th and 10th (a.470 - a.550) -
with their yahpo'oob. Nobody is named sahal - they appeared only in the
VIIth century at Piedras Negras and in the VIIIth at Yaxchilan. The change
in structure from a system of vassals toward that of controlled provincial
rulers is evident.
The nature of the title anab is still unknown. It could pertain to the
sculptors and underlords but this is all that we know. As for ah k'ulna we
agree with it's interpretation "courtier" (Houston 1993:130-131). Ah k'ulna
depicted on Panel 3 of Piedras Negras was servant or, possibly, mentor of
two little princes. At Tonina two courtiers evidenced the calendarical cere-
mony of the king; a courtier from Yaxchilan or Palenque was capture about
625 A.D. by the Piedras Negras ruler. It seems that a sphere of ah k'ulna
functions was limited by the royal court and associated activities. The use
of the members of the palace hierarchy in some extraordinary situations is a
very common trait for early state organization.
In the VIIth-VIIIth centuries A.D. the polities of Usumasinta valley
consisted of several "districts "which were governed by the hierarchical po-
litical-administrative apparatus. This "districts" coincide with the regal-
residential centers of the Naranjo realm, but unfortunately, written sources
do not mention the lower elements of the adminstrative system. There was
also a parallel palace hierarchy which is represented by ah k'ulna'oob. The
best evidence are from the Piedras Negras state. It consisted of 5 or 6 sa-
haldoms but we can identify only El Cayo. Moreover, another political
structure existed in this realm. A companion of Piedras Negras heir Chaac
Mo'(Panel 3) became a military chief 30 years later. On Stela 12 he is
named T'ultun ahaw "a lord of T'ultun". Probably he was a king because he
belonged to a lateral lineage of the ruling dynasty. So, the political-
administrative organization of Piedras Negras was a mixture of three sys-

305
tems - apparatus of controlled underlords, kinship network and palace hier-
archy.
Summing up we should identify Late Clasic Maya polities as early
states. We understand early state as one of the variants of the complex so-
ciopolitical organization of the hierarchic type which does not always pre-
ceed the mature state. Rather they are different forms, their main distinction
being in the role of territorial and kinship factors. This interpretation is
based on those of Claessen and Van der Velde (1987) and Bondarenko
(1997:13-14). In the Maya case, the early state is characterized by:
1) complex central political-administrative apparatus; 2) complex social
stratification; 3) elite control over long-distance trade, and production and
distribution of prestige goods; 4) dominance of lineage groups in the other
sectors of socioeconomic subsystem. But we see no evidence for more de-
tailed characteristics : from one side the level of the development of archi-
tecture, sculpture and writing closely link the Lowland Maya to the typical
or even transitional early state, but the socio-economic structure is closer to
that of the inchoate early state. It will not be possible to resolve this prob-
lem until we decide on what traits - political or socio-economical - are
more important for the classification.
Maya polities present a common path of political evolution: simple
chiefdom - complex chiefdom - early state. The main indicators of these
changes are seen in hieroglyphic inscriptions and monumental architectu-
ree: their appearance signifies a transition to the chiefdom form and their
institutionalization accompanies the institutionalization of early state or-
ganization. According to the hieroglyphic and archaeologic data this proc-
ess was similar to that of the Oaxaca valley - consolidation and centraliza-
tion of power began on the high levels and then was distributed on the
lower levels (Kowalewski et al. 1995:133).
There is a considerable difference between the Maya polities and
Benin, which presents another variant of community and chiefdom devel-
opement - mega-community (Bondarenko 1996). In the Maya system, su-
preme power does not imitate the community but on the contrary begins to
restructure society. Secondary centers copy the capital with all it's specific
traits. Secondary rulers are organized like the overlords. As a rule such a
"projection of the model of power" from above is typical for well-
developed societies (see e.g. the description of stalinist USSR in Kalash-

306
nikov 1997), and the existence of this mechanism among the Maya is very
significant. Also Bondarenko notes that only one real city could exist
within a mega-community (1996:95-96). Other proto-urban centers after
their defeat turned back in the rural sites. In the Lowland Maya settlement
pattern two central-place settlement types - regal-ritual cities (capitals) and
regal-ritual centers (provincial centers) belong to the urban category.

REFERENCES SITED
CMHI. - Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions. Cambridge, 1979 - 1984. Vol. 2-3.
Bondarenko, D.M. 1995. Benin nakanune pervykh kontaktov s yevropeitsami.
Chelovek. Obshchestvo. Vlast [Benin on the Eve of the First Contacts with
Europeans. Man. Society. Authority]. Moscow: Institute of African Studies of
Russian Academy of Sciences.
Bondarenko, D.M. 1997. Teoriya tsivilizatsiy i dinamika istoricheskogo protsessa v
dokolonialnoi Tropicheskoi Afrike [The Civilizations Theory and the Historical
Process Dynamics in Precolonial Tropical Africa]. Moscow: Institute of African
Studies of Russian Academy of Sciences.
Guliaev, V.I. 1979. Goroda-gosudarstva majja [The city-states of the Maya]. Moscow:
Nauka.
Kalashnikov, N.G. 1997. Arkhitektura goroda Vidnoje kak proektsija ideal’noj modeli
vlasti [The architecture of the Vidnoje town as a perspective of the ideal model
of power]. Mir vlasti: Traditsija. Simvol. Mif: Materialy Rossijckoj nauchnoj
konferentsii molodykh issledovatelej. Moscow.
Knorozov, Yu.V. and G.G.Ershova 1986. Nadpisi majja na keramicheskikh sosudakh
[Tha Maya inscriptions in the pottery]. Drevnije sistemy pis’ma: Etnicheskaja
semiotika. Moscow: 114-151.
Ball, J.W. 1993. Pottery, potters, palaces, and polities : Some socioeconomic and po-
litical implications of Late Classic Maya ceramic industry. Lowland Maya civli-
zation in the eighth century A.D. Washington.
Ball, J. and J.Taschek 1991. Late Classic Lowland Maya political organization and
central-place analysis. Ancient Mesoamerica Vol.2 (2):149-165.
Claessen, H.J.M., and P.Van der Velde 1987. Introduction. Early state dynamics.
Leiden and New York:1-23.
Chinchilla, O. and S.D.Houston 1992. Historia politica de la zona de Piedras Negras:
Las inscripciones de El Cayo. VI Simposio de я1investigaciones arqueologicas
en Guatemala. Guatemala:63-70.
Ford, A. 1991. Economic variations of Ancient Maya residential settlements in the up-
per Belize River area. Ancient Mesoamerica Vol.2 (1):35-46.
Grube, N. 1996. Palenque in Maya world. Eighth Palenque Round Table, 1993. San
Fransisco:1-13.

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Houston, S.D. 1993. Hieroglyphs and history at Dos Pilas : Dynastic politics of the
Classic Maya. Austin.
Kowalevski, S.A., L.Nicholas, L.Finsten, G.M.Fienman, and R.E.Blanton 1995. Re-
gional structural changes from chiefdom to state in the Oaxaca valley, Mexico.
Alternative pathways to early state. Vladivostok: 93-99.
Marcus, J. 1993. Ancient Maya political organization. Lowland Maya civilization in
the eighth century A.D. Washington:111-183.
Mathews, P. 1991. Classic Maya Emblem Glyphs. Classic Maya poli-tical history: Hi-
eroglyphic and archaeological evidence. Cambridge:19-29.
Rice, P.M. 1987. Economic change in the Lowland Maya Late Classic period. Speciali-
zation, exchange and complex societies. Cambridge : 76-85.
Schele, L. and D.Freidel 1991. A forest of kings: Untold story of the Ancient Maya. New
York.
Stuart, D. 1993. Historical inscriptions and the Classic Maya collapse. Lowland Maya
civilization in the eighth century A.D. Washington:321-354.
Tate, C. 1992. Yaxchilan : A design of ancient Maya ceremonial city. Austin.

308
17

SOME ASPECTS OF THE FORMATION OF THE


STATE IN ANCIENT SOUTH ARABIA

Mohamen Maraqten

Most of the Arabian peninsula is desert, with the exception of the


mountains of Oman and some oases and steppe regions in North, Central
and East Arabia.1 The most suitable place for cultivation and life is the
southwestern part of the peninsula called Yemen. In this region, high cul-
ture appeared roughly around the beginning of the first millennium B.C.
and continued to the advent of Islam. It represents one of the ancient Near
Eastern cultural centers. It should be noted that with regard to the culture of
pre-Islamic Arabia, a major cultural distinction is made between the North-
ern and Southern Arabs. Whilst the people of Northern Arabia were mostly
pastoral nomads, the people of Southern Arabia were sedentary agricultur-
ists.
States emerged at the beginning of the third millennium B.C. in
Mesopotamia, Egypt and later in Syria. But we have no concrete informa-
tion about any state in Yemen in the third and the second millennium B.C.,
because written documents from this period are not available and little has
been done in the area of archaeological research in this region. However,
recent archaeological research in Arabia and particularly in Yemen has
shown that this country had been settled from the Paleolithic through the
Mesolithic and Neolithic to the Bronze age. It must be taken into account
that Yemen is a part of the ancient Near East and was not isolated from the
process of cultural evolution there. However, the development of civiliza-
tion in the ancient Near East did not take place in all regions at the same
1
This does not appear to be quite correct, as there are also mountains of considerable
(2000–3000 m) hight in Yemen (note of the editors).
309
time and at the same rate.
The state emerged in Southern Arabia at the beginning of the first
millennium B.C. The first state was Saba’ and then later Ma‘īn, Qatabān
and Hadramawt.1 There were also other small states, e.g. Awsān. At the
beginning these states were vassals of Saba‘, yet by the middle of the first
millennium B.C. Ma‘īn, Qatabān and Hadramawt became independent.
Agriculture and trade formed the basic economy of the country, and
irrigation systems were widely in use from around the beginning of the
second millennium B.C. These factors contributed to a high level of mate-
rial culture in ancient Yemen which continued for more than 1500 years
until the appearance of Islam.
Our primary information about the culture of Ancient Yemen comes
from thousands of South Arabian inscriptions which have been discovered
in the country. They were written in a Semitic language in several dialects,
namely Minaic, Hadramitic, Qatabanian and Sabaic.2 The latter is the most
evident and known dialect. Generally speaking, every state had its own dia-
lect. The archaeological and anthropological data, as well as writings of
Classical and Arabic authors also contribute to our knowledge of ancient
Yemen.
Thus, the bearers of the South Arabian culture in the first millennium
B.C. were Semitic peoples called Sabaeans, Minaeans, Qatabaneans, Had-
rameans and other small groups. These people developed a distinct autoch-
thonous literate culture that was nevertheless not isolated from the cultural
process in the ancient Near East. These agricultural communities, which
possibly moved from northeast3 Arabia southwards, settled in the valleys
stemming from the Yemen highlands and draining the desert called Sayhad
(today Ramlat al-Sab‘atayn), and in Wādī Hadramaut.

1
It seems necessary to take into consideration the fact that in the authentic South Ara-
bian texts these names are used as denominations of certain socio-cultural groups
(sha’bs), and never states (note of the editors).
2
They are often considered to be separate (though closely related) languages – see e.g.
L. Kogan & A. Korotayev. "Sayhadic Languages (Epegraphic South Arabian)", Robert
Hetzron, ed. Semitic Languages. London: Routledge, 1997: 157–183 (note of the edi-
tors).
3
Or rather northwest Arabia – see e.g. A. Korotayev. "The Earliest Sabaeans in the
Jawf: A Reconsideration", Arabian Archaeology and Epigraphy. 9 (1998): 118-124
(note of the editors).
310
Noteworthy are the recent archaeological investigations in Yemen
which have furnished striking examples of the advanced culture of this
country, such as huge temples, walled cities, irrigation works, sculptures in
bronze and stone, and jewelry. In addition to these works, the literary ele-
ment of this high culture is now known to be a fundamental characteristic
(Grohmann 1963; Doe 1983; Daum 1987; Nebes 1994; EY). Of importance
are the most recent investigations which, according to C 14, pinpoint the
chronology of South Arabian inscriptions back to the tenth century B.C.
(Kitchen 1994). They have confirmed what has already been mainly sug-
gested by H. von Wissmann1 in his several works, which have greatly con-
tributed to the ancient history and geography of Yemen (e.g. von Wiss-
mann 1982). It is difficult to establish a chronology for ancient Yemen like
Mesopotamia or Egypt, a fact which has left the chronological system in
this country to be based mostly on synchronisms with other systems in the
ancient Near East. Nevertheless, an eponym system had been developed in
the old Sabaean period and later an absolute dating system starting with the
Himyarite era (ca. 115 or 110 B.C.) was also developed (Kitchen 1994:
120–138).
The study of the state formation has been a subject of research by so-
ciologists, ethnologists, historians, ethno-archaeologists and other scholars
for several decades. Yet only few specific studies on the origins and the
formation of the state in Yemen have been conducted, a fact which makes
the study of the state in this region a difficult task (Lundin 1967; Beeston
1972). However, pioneer works have been done on the social and economi-
cal history of South Arabia, and the study of the cultural history and the
language of ancient Yemen has increased in the last three decades through
the effort of several scholars, which helps us to understand more about the
cultural history of this country than ever before.
The purpose of this paper is not to discuss the different and contro-
versial theories of the state, nor to reconsider these theories (Wittfogel
1981; Eisenstadt et al. 1988; Kürsat-Ahlers 1994; Service 1975; Claessen
& Skalnik 1981; Claessen & Skalnik 1978; Yoffee & Cowgill 1991). A re-

1
And Avraam Lundin – see e.g. A. G. Lundin. Gosudarstvo mukarribov Saba‘(sa-
beyskiy eponimat) [The State of Mukarribs of Saba‘]. Moscow: Nauka, 1971 (note of
the editors).
311
consideration of the various theories concerning the study of the state has
been done by several researchers, e.g. Eisenstadt (1988) and Sellnow
(1988). These theories are usually divided into several categories: envi-
ronmental circumscription, class conflict (Engels 1884; Diakonoff 1991;
Herrmann 1988), managerial necessity (Stein & Rothman 1994) &c. They
will be taken into account in dealing with the subject, but this paper will
primarily be a mere outline of the state system in ancient Yemen according
to the available sources. It will include a sketch of the formation of the state
in ancient Yemen and will give a brief presentation of its origins, its devel-
opment, social structure, internal structure, political organizations, power
forms and related aspects. In this context, the "Introduction" (al-
Muqaddimah) by the Arabic historian and sociologist Ibn Khaldūn
(A.D. 1332–1406) has contributed a great deal to our understanding of the
formation of the state.
In spite of the large number of definitions of the state, derived from
the various theories, there are some common characteristics which are gen-
erally accepted. As regards the general definition of the state we may say
that it is a dominant form of a society characterized by sovereign control of
a territory and autonomous political institutions. Moreover, it is based on a
centralized system of surplus appropriation and represents an authority of
legitimate force.
Two centers in the ancient Near East are considered to be the core
locations for the emergence of the state. These are Egypt (Endesfelder
1988: 372–377) and Mesopotamia (Diakonoff 1991; Maisels 1990; Breuer
1990: 172–194; Klengel 1988: 319–327). Other states appeared later in
what may be called the first states' periphery – in Syria-Palestine (Buccelati
1967), Asia Minor and in Yemen. However, a core and a periphery can also
be seen in the evolution of the state in ancient Yemen. Saba‘ was the core
for the emergence of the state which influenced the appearance of other
states in the country. The expansion of Saba‘ was also a major impetus for
the emergence of secondary states in Ethiopia. The South Arabian culture
penetrated into this country in the first half of the first millennium B.C. and
influenced the appearance of the state of Aksum (Kaplan 1988; Ko-
bishchanov 1978). The state of Kindah with its center in the caravan station
Qaryat al-Faw (Al-Ansary 1982) in Wādī al-Dawāsir also emerged not far
312
from the Yemen border. Every state in ancient Yemen had its own central
territory which was controlled by the political power of the state, and had
its own political, legal and military institutions.
The history of ancient Yemen are usually divided into three main
phases. The ancient Sabaic period has two subdivisions: the mukarrib pe-
riod from the beginning of the first millennium until the middle of it, and
then the time in which kings ruled until the first century B.C. The Middle
Sabaic period extends from the beginning of the first century B.C. until the
forth century A.D., whereas the Late Sabaic period covers the fifth and
sixth centuries A.D. These phases correspond roughly to three stages in the
formation and development of the state in this area.

I. Economic Foundations
The so-called Asiatic mode of production which has been the subject
of debate by many scholars, especially from the Marxist tradition, for sev-
eral decades, and other relevant theories on economical systems, will not be
discussed here (Maisels 1990; about the economic structure in the ancient
Near East see Silver 1985). This is just a brief presentation of the economic
basis of the ancient Yemeni society.
Two economic factors played an important role in the formation of
the state in ancient Yemen: agriculture and international trade. Agriculture
was intensively practiced in Yemen at the beginning of the first millennium
B.C. This was due to sufficient precipitation in some areas of Yemen and
the development of new techniques to control flood waters in valleys
through the erection of dams. Several kinds of cereals, fruits and vegetables
were cultivated. The epigraphic materials inform us well about this cultiva-
tion. Dates seem to be one of the most widely cultivated fruits in ancient
Yemen, and palm gardens in addition to vineyards are well attested in the
inscriptions.
Cattle was an important basis of ancient Yemen agriculture. They
were used as draft animals to pull ploughs and to produce milk, meat and
hides. Goats and sheep were also raised for their meat, hide, milk and wool.
Agriculture was the fundamental economic base in the societies of
the Southern Arabian states. The potential of the South Arabian agricultural
societies required a high degree of social organization as does every agri-
313
cultural society. This was the first step in the development of a complexity
which led to the formation of a state.
Most of the people of ancient South Arabia were free peasants who
had their own land and lived in villages, particularly in the highlands of
Yemen. It seems possible to say that agriculture in this country depended
on peasants (Beeston 1986). Peasants are usually defined as agriculturists
or rural peoples having connections to cities or to states and dependent on
urban life. They are at any rate different from the tribal bedouin groups
who practiced agriculture. The largest portion of the fertile and irrigated
land was owned by the ruling aristocracy, noble families, clans, privileged
sedentary communities (sha‘bs) and the temple elite. These comprised the
higher class which not only owned large estates but also had control over
vassals, clients, serfs and tenant farmers who had a general designation as
‘dm (Preissler 1984). Adīm (’dm) seems to be a social group of "clients"
like the mawālī of the Islamic period. Slaves made up only a small part of
the society and had no rights or property. The lower class owned cultivated
fields, but they were obliged to relinquish some of their crops and to pay
taxes to their lords. Corvee-labor was practiced by the kings of Yemen for
reconstructing official buildings such as temples, palaces and the installa-
tion of dams. The work was done by the lower class and slaves (Grohmann
1963: 124–126; Rhodokanakis 1927).
Irrigated land was the most important foundation for agriculture in
ancient Yemen, and irrigated cultivation was widely developed in most
parts of Yemen and especially in the valleys stemming from the highlands
of Yemen and draining desert like Wādī al-Jawf, Wādī Adhanah and Wādī
Bayhān (Hehmeyer 1991). Wādī Hadramawt, which drains into the Indian
Ocean, was also a place where irrigation was widely practiced. Important
for the appearance of the state in ancient Yemen was the fact that these four
Wādīs were the centers of four South Arabian states: Ma‘īn and its capital
Qarnaw in Wādī al-Jawf, Saba‘ and its capital Mārib in Wādī Adhana,
Qatabān and its capital Timna‘ in Wādī Bayhan, and Hadramawt with its
capital Shabwah in Wādī Hadramawt.1 The capitals of these states and
other cities were located not only in these Wādīs but at the same time on

1
It seems necessary, of course, to add to this list Awsān in Wādī Markhah (note of the editors).
314
the incense trade route. In any case the people of ancient Yemen learned to
keep the seasonal rain floods with dams and then organize irrigation
through canals. Arabic sources mention more than a hundred of these dams
(EY II: 513–517). The most famous installation of irrigation works in
Yemen is the great dam of Mārib, in Wādī Adhanah (Schmidt 1982). The
history of the dam goes back to at least the beginning of the second millen-
nium B.C. and continued through the ages until the seventh century A.D.
when the dam was finally destroyed. One of the most important tasks of the
Sabaean ruler was to take care of the Mārib's dam and to repair damages
which occurred several times in history. Sabaic records inform us about
damages which happened to the dam and efforts of the kings to reconstruct
it. However, the last breaking of the dam at the beginning of the seventh
century A.D. is described in the Arabic Classical sources as a catastrophe
and is mentioned in al-Qur‘ān as the end of the kingdom of Saba‘. Arabic
sources maintain that many tribes left Yemen after the breaking of the dam
and that this event led to the end of the South Arabian culture. It can be as-
sumed that part of the society did in fact lose its economic base after the
dam broke.
Already in the second half of the second millennium B.C. the South
Arabian society had reached the level of a complex urban society. One of
the most important features of this culture was the appearance of different
professions. Craft specialization and economic innovations were required
through the development of the agricultural society of ancient Yemen. It
must be taken into account that the different sectors of the state economy,
such as the planting of incense and trade, were influenced and dependent
upon each other. Meanwhile, an advanced stage of surplus food production
stimulated the appearance of professional craftsmen such as artists, metal
smiths, potters, architects, masons, carpenters, scribes, leather workers,
goldsmiths, jewelers, etc. This is testified by the fact that the manufactured
wool textiles of Yemen were famous in pre-Islamic Arabia as well as skill-
ful, monumental architecture and other art works found in this region.
Trade was the second most important foundation of ancient Yemen
society. The people of ancient Yemen controlled the sea routes to Africa
and India by using the monsoon winds. They carried the exquisite products
of these countries to the Mediterranean countries. Above all, the excellent
315
location of Yemen helped its people to become go-betweens in the trade of
goods between India, Africa and the Mediterranean countries (Groom
1981; Crone 1987; Simon 1989). In all cases they controlled not only the
sea routes but also the axis of land trade routes. For its richness this land
was known as Arabia Felix in the Classical world.
All South Arabian states were involved in the trade of frankincense,
myrrh and other aromata, and monopolized trade routes to Egypt, Syria-
Palestine and Mesopotamia from the beginning of the first millennium B.C.
(Müller 1978). The kingdom of Ma‘īn was established and flourished in
Wādī al-Jawf. It was famous for its cities such as Qarnaw (modern Ma‘īn)
and Yathill (modern Barāqish). The Minaeans were mostly traders and no
real military activities relating to them have been discovered according to
the available sources. They were not like the Sabaean who are described as
a warlike people. The economic base of the Minaean society was primarily
trade, and it may be assumed that the Minaean kingdom was a type of mer-
chants' corporation.
International trade of frankincense and myrrh only became possible
after the domestication of the camel in the middle of the second millennium
B.C., which may have taken place in North West Arabia (Zarins 1992). It
seems that South Arabian merchants already used the camel in the second
half of the second millennium B.C. Sabaean caravans can be traced back to
the tenth century. The visit of the legendary Queen of Sheba (Saba‘), which
is recorded in the Old Testament, to King Solomon is an indication of this
(Groom 1981). We also have some information about Sabaean caravans
(Liverani 1992) from the cuneiform sources from the eighth century B.C.,
and Saba‘ is the only South Arabian state which is mentioned in these
sources (Eph‘al 1982: 87–89).
South Arabian merchants, especially Minaeans, set up trading colo-
nies in North Arabia such as al-‘Ulá (Dedan), and merchant communities
were planted in Greece and Egypt to organize the trade. These communities
had the function of securing the dynamic and continuity of trade throughout
the whole year. It seems that the trade was mostly governed by the king and
the ruling class. Nevertheless, it can be assumed that there were merchants
in South Arabia working on the basis of their own capital and acting as free
agents concerned only with their own profits. They had, of course, close
316
relationships with the ruling class. A good example of these types of traders
is the Minaean merchant clan, the Gebbanite (’hl gb’n, Doe 1983: 99).
When exactly trade relations between ancient Yemen and Egypt
started is difficult to pinpoint. It appears to have occurred in the second
millennium B.C. The Egyptian sources mention a land called Punt to be a
land of incense, and Queen Hatshepsut from the Eighteenth Dynasty
launched a sea expedition to Punt. The land of Punt, which is said to be lo-
cated on the lower part of the Red Sea, is most likely to have included both
sides of Bāb al-Mandab, the Somaliland and South Arabia (Müller 1978:
739–741). Meanwhile, the frankincense and myrrh of South Arabia were
enormously valued by Egyptians not only for perfume, ointment and in-
cense, but also for mummification. These products of ancient Yemen were
brought to Egypt either by caravans using the incense trade route through
Palestine to Egypt or by ship across the maritime road of the Red Sea
(Groom 1981). The Periplus Maris Erythraei, a book whose author is un-
known from the first century A.D. (Casson 1989) and which served sailors
as a guide for the Red Sea, gives us information not only about South Ara-
bian trade but also about Yemeni harbors like Qāni’ on the Indian Ocean.
There is no doubt that a type of market economy existed in ancient
Yemen. We have some information about it from epigraphic materials such
as market codes (Müller 1983; Grohmann 1963: 135–40; Simon 1989: 78–
91). Craftsmen worked not only for the temple and the royal household, but
also for marketing and export. In association with the market economy was
the development of the South Arabian coinage system beginning at least in
the third century B.C. In addition to this, incense trade and market econ-
omy transformed the economic structure of ancient Yemen from a house-
hold to a state economy.
The land was property of the "national" god. The rulers and priests
who were representatives of the national god on earth administrated this
property (Ryckmans 1971; 1983; Grohmann 1963: 121–122). Temples in
ancient Yemen were not only holy places but also marketplaces. According
to the sources, frankincense was brought from Dhofar by sea to the Had-
ramitic harbor Qāni’ and then transported on camels to Shabwa, the capital
of Hadramawt. After they had brought it to the temple of Siyan (s1yn), the
national god of Hadramawt, and before being marketed, it was measured
317
and the tithe was taken by the temple (Müller 1978; Groom 1981;
Ryckmans 1983). It is remarkable that temples in ancient Yemen owned
substantial holdings. How large the property of the temples was is difficult
to estimate. A kind of temple-feudalism has been suggested to have existed
here (Grohmann 1963; Rhodokanakis 1927). It must have been, however,
substantial in the ancient Sabaic period and continued to be considerable
later. The tithe was the most important tax which was gathered for the tem-
ple in all periods of the ancient history of the country. Besides this, a state
taxation system was developed. This can be seen according to different
terms denoting several kinds of taxes (Grohmann 1963, 125–26; Korotayev
1995).
North Arabian bedouin tribes (sg. qabīlah) began to penetrate into
South Arabia from the beginning of the first centuries A.D. The basis of the
bedouin economy in South Arabia was cattle and camel-herding (Dostal
1985). It is well known that this kind of economy is not stable and repre-
sents a source of conflict which could and often did threaten the security of
the society of the cultural area. A good example for these tribes is the tribe
Amir (’mrm). The people of this tribe were pastoralists (Höfner 1959). They
herded camels and were simultaneously involved in trade and lived around
the incense route.
The development of irrigation systems and international trade were
the most important factors for the comprehensive transformation of the
South Arabian society and the emergence of the state.

II. Social Structure


Little is known about the society of ancient Yemen before the first
millennium B.C. This makes it difficult to describe the socio-economical
development accurately. Nevertheless, a general presentation may be given
according to the archaeological data and the general development of the
cultural history of the ancient Near East.
For many thousands of years, life of mankind in Yemen was based
on the hunting of wild animals and the gathering of wild plants as in other
parts of the ancient world. The society of food collectors and hunters lived
and moved in small bands (Maisels 1990). Several archaeological sites and
rock drawings of these people have been discovered in Yemen. The Neo-
318
lithic age (ca. 8000–4500 B.C.), which is described as the Neolithic revolu-
tion, was an important step in the development of the civilization of human
beings. This is the period of agricultural evolution and domestication of
plants and animals in the Ancient Near East. Mankind began to produce his
own food and gradually settled down permanently in villages (Maisels
1990). Several sites representing the prehistoric period have been discov-
ered in Yemen. Some of these villages later developed into cities in the
Bronze age (de Maigret 1987).
Big settlements appeared in the second millennium B.C. indicating a
move towards complexity. It appears that Mārib did exist as a large city in
the second millennium B.C. Geological studies in the oasis of Mārib have
proved, according to the sediments of irrigation, that the dam of Mārib was
used at that time (Brunner 1983). One of the most important aspects of the
urban life in Yemen in this period was the development of food production
techniques through the use of metal tools as in other parts of the ancient
Near East. An increased demand for specialization in several sectors of so-
cial and economic life took place through the production of surplus agricul-
tural products. Specialization was essential for the development of several
institutions in the society and was the first step toward the establishment of
cities and the development of a stratified or class society.
There are many terms in South Arabian records which give us infor-
mation about the social life in ancient Yemen. South Arabic has special
terms to denote not only the sedentary tribes (sha‘bs) but also their various
subdivisions as well as other social groups, tribal units and political struc-
ture (Ryckmans 1951; Sab. Dic.; Beeston 1979; Korotayev 1995; 1996).
From the available data it is possible to study the structure of ancient
Yemen society, yet there are still several social terms whose meaning we
do not know exactly. Thus, the question of the character of socio-economic
relations in ancient Yemen is extremely complex and cannot be regarded as
resolved.
The city was the core from which states developed. A city had, in
general, experience in administration and political organization. Several
cities have been discovered through archaeological excavations and epi-
graphic research. Usually a city is designated by the South Arabic word
hagar (hgr). But it is still difficult to know exactly the function of hagar
319
and whether all cities were precisely designated as hagar or not. Beeston
suggests that hagar was the center of a sha‘b which seems to be plausible
(Beeston 1972). It could also probably have been a center of the state ad-
ministration. Cities of Yemen in the first millennium were walled cities
(Doe 1983).
The emergence of the state in Yemen at the beginning of the first
millennium B.C. was propounded by social and economic development in
the second half of the second millennium B.C. This was also associated
with the appearance of class stratification in the society. It can be assumed
that stratification started in the second millennium B.C., but there is no
solid data about this. However, stratification brought with it the unification
and integration of diverse sha‘bs, clans and villages into one single society,
and led to the establishment of the state.
The South Arabian society can be divided into the following classes:
nobles, clients, commoners and slaves. We do not have solid information
about slaves in the ancient society of Yemen; for example whether they
were recognized as an institution or not, and therefore it is difficult to char-
acterize ancient Yemen society as a slave-owning society. We may say,
however, that slavery in the ancient Near East did not reach the form of
Greek and Roman slavery and was in any case different (Dandamayev
1992). Commoners were obliged to provide agricultural and military ser-
vices to the elite.
The people of ancient Yemen had common Semitic agricultural
terms, which indicate that they practiced cultivation before they settled in
Yemen and may have been half-nomads. The South Arabian society was
definitely agricultural and not bedouin. South Arabian inscriptions inform
us well about bedouins in this area. They are designated as "Arabs" (‘rb
pl.’‘rb). From the second century A.D. onwards, the "Arabs" constituted a
recognizable characteristic of the South Arabian society (Höfner 1959).
They worked in trade and herded animals (especially camels) and they
served as soldiers in the army (Beeston 1976). Apparently good relation-
ships were established between the inhabitants of cities and the nomadic
groups. It is a general phenomenon in the ancient Near East that bedouins
comprised part of the society (Klengel 1971) and this has continued up to

320
the present times. Tribes in Yemen are still an important factor in the soci-
ety (Dostal 1985; Dresch 1989).
In the three main stages of the development of the state in ancient
Yemen there are specific terms describing the variability of the socio-
political organizations for each stage. However, the state in Yemen was not
an event but a process. Its system had a number of original features which
were due to peculiarities in its socio-economic and political development.
Written sources from Yemen, including the so-called "federation formula"
(Höfner 1957; von Wissman 1982: 52–56), record political activities by the
mukarribs which give indications about the formation of the state. These
inscriptions inform us about the unification and integration of social groups
and communities together into a kind of "federation" in association with the
cult of the "federal" deity.

III. Kingship and Political Structure


The influence that the social structure in South Arabia had on the po-
litical structure is of major importance, not only in the initial stages of cul-
tural formation but also for the formation of the state. It has been stressed
by several scholars that agricultural societies have in general a high degree
of organization (Service 1975; Mann 1986). The specific political system
which developed here does have some parallels with other parts of the po-
litical systems of the ancient Near East.
An irrigation network requires a kind of centralized supervision in
order to become established (Wittfogel 1981), which is at least one reason
for the development of political organization. In this case the emergence of
such a political organization in ancient Yemen can be compared with the
political development in Egypt and the Sumerian city-states. Another indi-
cation of the appearance of political power in ancient Yemen is the con-
struction of monumental buildings such as temples. Their construction
needs the organization of mass labor, which requires centralized power
with the ability to organize large numbers of people to do such work. The
huge temples of the main Sabaean deity Almaqah near Mārib such as Mah-
ram Bilqīs (Doe 1983; Jamme 1962), al-Masājid and Bar ān, as well as his
temple in Sirwāh surely needed a central power which in this case was or-
ganized by the Sabaean rulers. These monumental constructions can be
321
compared with monuments in other parts of the ancient Near East such as
the ziggurrats in Mesopotamia and the pyramids in Egypt, which are used
by scholars to characterize the early stage of the state in these countries.
The sha‘b was at any rate not only a socio-economic unit but also a
political organization which preserved not only the internal order but also
dealt with external affairs. Some sha‘bs could also be described as ethnic
groups (for the definition of an ethnic group see Smith 1988: 21–68). The
sha‘b, which obviously had no kinship basis was formed as a community
already in the pre-state period, and these communities (sha‘bs) as political
units formed the state together. The most important factor for the formation
of this political organization, i.e. the state, was the military power. On the
other hand, a peaceful federation or a league as a core for state formation is
also recorded, not only for Saba’ but also for other states such as Qatabān.
A federation between several tribes called "children of ‘Amm" (wld ‘m)
made up the political structure of Qatabān (Ryckmans 1951). Most scholars
of ancient Yemen accept that the state in this country was a type of federa-
tion. Beeston described the Sabaean state as a "commonwealth" (Beeston
1972). It seems that the sha‘bs continued to exercise important functions
even after the establishment of the state. But the state was often able to in-
tegrate the sha‘bs through its central power, and this was only possible
when the state was strong and able to control all the different kinds of so-
cial groups, casts and classes of the society and subject them to its central
authority. In the earliest period the chief of a sha‘b was usually called kabīr
"big man, chief". Some kabīrs were later integrated into the state system
and became royal administrators. From the first centuries A.D. until the de-
cline of the pre-Islamic South Arabian civilization, the term qayl (qyl, qwl)
"chief, spokesman" was used to denote the ruler of the sha‘b, and Arabic
sources maintain that they were kings of Yemen (Beeston 1979; Robin
1981). However, the sha‘b as a political unit may be also compared with
the community of the city-states of Syria-Palestine (Buccellati 1967; Thiel
1980; Malamat 1992; Ryckmans 1983).

1. The Mukarrib and the King


In the first stage of the state in ancient Yemen the ruler was called
mukarrib (mkrb). Most scholars of South Arabian studies accept that the
322
mukarrib was a kind of "priest-ruler" and this early stage in the life of the
state in South Arabia is called the mukarrib period. However, this form of
government has been compared with Sumerian city-states, whereas mukar-
rib is compared with ENSI (Diakonoff 1991a), the ruler of these city-states
(Höfner 1957). Meanwhile, the mukarrib as a ruler is attested in most
states, i.e. Saba’, Hadramawt, Qatabān, but not in Ma‘in which had from
the beginning a ruler called a king (mlk), a fact indicating that another type
of political development had taken place in Ma‘in. The mukarrib period is
designated by a theocratic form of government. The mukarrib was respon-
sible for governing political, economic and religious affairs and formed the
military leaders of the state. In ancient Yemen the political elite was drawn
from aristocratic clans. Islamic Yemenite historians maintain that eight no-
ble clans (al-mathāminah) had the political power in their hands in pre-
Islamic Yemen (Robin 1991).
We have evidence of a specific process of development of political
power and government in ancient Yemen. The mukarrib (mkrb) was fol-
lowed by a king (malik, mlk), and this started in Saba’ through the Kariba’il
Watar (RES 3945) in the beginning of the seventh century B. C. He was the
first mukarrib who used the king's title (malik). Thus he was the first king
in South Arabia. In a long inscription he describes his expansion in the re-
gion and claims his control over most of it. The rule of Kariba’il Watar is
to be described as the development of political power and as a transition
from the mukarrib to the royal period.1 It is a clear sign of the institution-
alization of central leadership and it was the largest step toward the estab-
lishment of the state and kingship in ancient Yemen, the development of
the royal administration, hereditary aristocracy and the secularity of state
institutions.
A very important feature for the emergence of the state in Yemen
was the presence of "national" gods. Every state had its "national" god:
1
For a more convincing treatment of this problem see Beeston 1972: the title mukarrib
co-existed with the title malik (king) throughout the 1st millennium B.C. The kings
were at the very beginning political leaders of sha‘bs, whereas the title mukarrib be-
longed only to the kings which exercised a sort of hegemony in the South Arabian
world. Thus, in the 1st millinnium B.C. there would be normally a few kings in South
Arabia, but only one mukarrib (though, of course, we would attest two mukarribs si-

323
Almaqah in Saba’, Wadd in Ma‘īn, Siyān in Hadramawt and ‘Amm in
Qatabān.
According to the epigraphic materials, the ideology of the state was
as follows: "national god, sovereign, nation" (Grohmann 1963: 121–22;
Ryckmans 1951; 1983). The legitimization of the royal power in ancient
Yemen through the religious ideology was important. The ruler here is de-
scribed to be the "first born" of the national deity. The people called them-
selves "children of that deity" or they are designated as the "community" of
that deity. It is said, for example, that the mukarrib or the king of Saba’ is
the first born of their main god Almaqah (bkr ’lmqh), and that the Sabaeans
are "children of Almaqah" (wld ’lmqh). The same can be said for the other
states.
The study of royal titles is very important in understanding the de-
velopment of political power in ancient Yemen. In the ancient Sabaic pe-
riod in Saba’ the rulers had the title "mukarrib of Saba’" and later "king of
Saba’".1 In the first century onwards they had long royal titles indicating
federation and unification (Bāfaqīh 1990; Kitchen 1994). After the unifica-
tion of Saba’ and Himyar in one state the ruler had the title "the king of
Saba’ and dhū-Raydān". Dhū-Raydān is a designation for Himyar, a tribe
which appeared in the second century B.C. northeast of Aden, and acquired
later a considerable power and established the Sabaean-Himyarite empire
around the third century A.D. About A.D. 295 the king Shammar Yahar‘ish
took the royal title "king of Saba’, dhū-Raydān, Hadramawt and Yamnat".
In the first third of the fifth century A.D. the king Abūkarib As‘ad had the
title "king of Saba’, dhū-Raydān, Hadramawt, Yamnat and their Bedouins
in Tawdum2 and Tihāmah1".
One of the most important features of the kingdom was the role of
the royal palaces established especially in the capitals and centers of the
South Arabian states. Good examples for these are: the royal palace Salhīn
in Mārib, the capital of Saba’ and the royal palace Raydān in Zafār, the
capital of the Himyarite kings of Saba’ and dhū-Raydān, who under their

multaneously when two kings contested the hegemony in South Arabia, though such
cases are very rare) (note of the editors).
1
See our previous note (note of the editors).
2
The Plateau (note of the editors).

324
rule brought the Kingdom of Saba’ and dhū-Raydān to a peak. Moreover,
the palace Ghumdān in San‘ā’ and the Hadramitic royal palace Shaqir in
Shabwah were also of importance. We have information about these pal-
aces from the Classical Arabic sources and South Arabian inscriptions
(Müller 1986).
The Sabaean king stood at the head of the state. But royal power was
regarded as the collective power of the tribe Saba’ and a few other noble
tribes stood with Saba’ in alliance. The ruler in ancient Yemen was not a
god but a divinely selected agent; he was the priest, the channel between
heaven and earth. He is destined by the divine to bring justice and righteous
order to his people. The king had his background as primus inter paris as
did other kings in the ancient Near East, but in Yemen it is most likely that
his power did not develop into absolute power as is described in Mesopo-
tamia (Diakonoff 1991b). This was not possible due to the fragmentation of
the society. The king had the function of organizing the relations between
the tribes (sha‘bs), which continued to constitute stable socio-political
units. He was the head of a confederation and not a completely integrated
state.

2. Organs of the state


The emergence of the state in ancient Yemen is characterized by the
development of several institutions which formed and built the organization
of the state. There is no concrete information about the internal relations
between these institutions (Ryckmans 1951; Grohmann 1963: 130–131;
Lundin 1967).

The council
The state council (miswad) seems to have consisted of landowners or
chiefs (sayyid, chief) of the sha‘bs. Apparently, the council was a general
assembly of landlords. The kings of Ma‘īn, for example, ruled together
with miswad (Grohmann 1963: 128–131). Miswad seems to have been one
of the most early institutions of the state and continued to function in the
Ancient and Middle Sabaean periods. In addition to the state council there

1
The Coastal Plain (note of the editors).
325
were also councils in the cities in which all noble clans and sha‘bs were
represented.

Priesthood
Religious institutions were one the most important organs of the
state. The inscriptions give us information about the hierarchy of the tem-
ple service. In spite of difficulties in understanding these different terms,
the function of different kinds of priests (rs2w, s2w‘) can be reconstructed,
and it may be said that there were various classifications of priests who
worked in the temple service, e.g. the temple administrator (qyn, ‘fkl). We
are not informed well about the specialized personnel acting in conjunction
with the priests such as singers, astrologers and interpreters of dreams. At
the same time, huge temple complexes like Mahram Bilqīs, the temple of
the Sabaean deity Almaqah, surely required a well-developed priesthood.
This institution appeared in the mukarrib period and seems to be the most
important organ of the state at this time. Noble clans, e.g. dhū-Khalīl, con-
trolled this institution (Ryckmans 1951; 1971; 1983). When the kingship
was established, the power of the temple under the king was reduced and
priests lost their judicial and political authority. Their function was rele-
gated simply to one of the institutions of the kingdom.1
There is also one other important aspect of the emergence of the state
which can be seen in association with priesthood. This is the development
of the South Arabian script. It is accepted among scholars that this script
was borrowed from the Canaanites sometime in the second half of the sec-
ond millennium B.C. (Knauf 1989). However, the origin and development
of scripts in the ancient Near East may also be seen in association with in-
stitutions such as temples and states. From the beginning the South Arabian
script was closely related to the appearance and decline of the state in an-
cient Yemen.

1
In the Sabaean Kingdom, however, the temples appear to have recovered their author-
ity completely in the Middle Period (especially in the 2nd and 3rd centuries A.D.) be-
coming in many respects more important politically than the royal power. For exam-
ple, for this period we have practically no data at all confirming the existence of the
royal taxation, and lots of data on the temple tithe (which in no way was controlled by
the kings) – see e.g. Korotayev 1996 (note of the editors).
326
Legal System
Intricate court systems appeared in advanced urban society in the an-
cient Near East, and a legal system was important for the internal structure
of the state (Herzog 1988). Unfortunately, no codex like that of Hammurabi
of Babylon has survived in Southern Arabia, but we are informed from the
inscriptions about the legal system in the states there. Written laws and
edicts were discovered in Yemen such as the Qatabanean market code
(Müller 1983; Rhodokanakis 1927; Grohmann 1963, 132–140). There are
well-preserved juridical epigraphic documents about different sectors of
life and society. According to these documents it may be assumed that
these laws organized and regulated the legal foundations of the society,
such as economic exchange, market codes, taxations, marriages, religious
rituals, penal codes, etc. Moreover, many juridical terms are attested in the
inscriptions (Sab. Dic). No information is available as to whether courts
may have been established in different cities or not. However, it may be as-
sumed that courts were associated with the rulers' palaces, which not only
functioned as courts of appeals but were also open for the commoners to
present their problems. It is well known that laws must somehow be en-
forced by a political authority within the society and that they must be
abided by the people. No solid information about the practicing of laws and
customs in ancient South Arabia is available. However, the special signifi-
cance of the juridical documents is that they reveal a long constitutional
development.

Warfare and the South Arabian Army


One of the fundaments for the development of civilization is an in-
crease in the scale of warfare. Scholars who study the origins of states in-
sist that the army is an important feature of a state (Mann 1986). However,
armies are suggested to mark the rise and fall of empires in the ancient
Near East such as Egypt, Assyria, Persia, &c., and this can also be seen in
the case of ancient Yemen. Information is available about the South Ara-
bian army and its hierarchical structure from inscriptions (Beeston 1976).
This army seems to be the most important organ in the state. With the
power of this army Kariba‘il Watar (the first third of the seventh century
327
B.C.) was able to capture most of Yemen. The South Arabian army was or-
ganized into different types of soldiers, infantry, spearmen, horsemen, and
camel-riders. The most important weapons used were spears and swords.
We do not have information about the use of chariots in ancient Yemen as
was the case in Mesopotamia or Egypt. Nomadic warriors and brigades, in
particular camel-riders and horsemen, served in the army. Drilled armies of
increasing size were first developed under Kariba‘il Watar, and the strong-
est South Arabian army may be dated to the time of the Himyarite kings of
Saba‘ and dhū-Raydān during the first centuries of our era. It was possible
through the mechanisms of this standing army to control not only Yemen
but also to geographically expand through raids into Central Arabia. There
is no real concrete evidence as to what is called "military democracy" in
Yemen.
South Arabian inscriptions provide information on war and fighting
between the rival South Arabian kingdoms. These wars seem to have been
over possession of land resources, water and control of the trade routes.
The inscriptions also give information about the fighting against the Abys-
sinians who eventually captured the country after several military attacks in
A.D. 525. This marked the end of the sovereignty of the state and culture in
Yemen which had lasted for about 1500 years.

Conclusion
The state appeared in ancient Yemen at the beginning of the first
millennium B.C. and continued until the eve of Islam. Evidence gained
from the epigraphic materials, Arabic and Classical sources points to a
well-organized economy based on agriculture, especially irrigated land,
trade and handicraft, to an established centralized leadership headed in the
archaic period by a theocratic ruler called mukarrib and then by a king.1
The state was substantiated by an intricate system of authority based on re-
ligious ideology, laws and military power. The state was formed by seden-
tary communities joined together by the means of a type of federation.

1
See note 7 above (note of the editors).
328
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333
Part Four

ALTERNATIVES TO THE STATE

334
18

"HOMOLOGOUS SERIES" OF SOCIAL


EVOLUTION AND ALTERNATIVES TO THE
STATE IN WORLD HISTORY
(An Introduction)*

Dmitri M. Bondarenko

It is often said that research on the formation of complex political


organization is currently in a state of methodological deadlock. I cannot but
agree with this opinion. But it seems to me, that it is possible to find a way
out if we recognize that the state is not the universal form of political or-
ganization of post-primitive society. The "reverse effect" of such a step
would also be theoretically significant. Primitiveness turns out not to be
characterized by the absence of the state but by the local character of both
social and political organization, of the human "picture of the Universe"
and, indeed, of all of culture in the broadest sense. The end of the primitive
framework is connected with the overcoming of a local orientation in all
the subsystems of the socio-cultural organism, i.e. of the society. In the
sphere of socio-political organization, this is marked by the appearance of
supra- communal structures and institutions.
It may be that it is only possible to recognize the non-universality of
the state in world history if we accept another, more general idea: the non-
unilinearity of social evolution. Making use of this idea, one can look at an
immanent methodological controversy in Anthropology (and in a great
*
It is the author's pleasure to acknowledge Prof. Igor V. Sledzevski (Center for Civili-
zational and Regional Studies, Russian Academy of Sciences, Moscow) and Prof.
Andrey V. Korotayev at the Institute of Oriental Studies, Russian Academy of Sci-
ences, Moscow for extremely fruitful and provocative discussions on the topic of this

335
measure, of Cultural Science, History) from new angle, that is, the correla-
tion of general and specific, universal and unique in societies and cultures,
their basic, metaphysical backgrounds and transformations. In its essence,
the matter of the unity and plurality of possible pathways out of primitivity,
of variability and invariability in forms of social and political organization
of post-primitive societies is one of the aspects of this global problematics.
It has always been peculiar to evolutionists to compare social and
biological evolution, the latter as visualized by Charles Darwin. But with-
out rejecting this for the development of evolutionary ideas in Social Sci-
ence, it also seems possible and correct to draw an analogy with another
great discovery in the field of biology, with the homologous series of Niko-
lay Vavilov (1921; 1927; 1967). There are reasons to suppose that an
equivalent level of socio-political (and cultural) complexity, which makes
it possible to solve equally difficult problems faced by societies, can be
achieved not only in various forms but on essentially different evolutionary
pathways, too.
The neoevolutionistic idea of "general and specific evolution" intro-
duced by Marshall Sahlins (1960) was meant to solve that much "cursed"
problem of the correlation of the universal and the particular in history, so-
ciety, and culture. But it does not offer anything principally new in com-
parison with classical evolutionism and Marxism. As in the epoch of clas-
sical evolutionism of the 19th to the beginning of the 20th centuries, a
teleologic unilinear vision of humanity’s socio-cultural history still stands
behind the idea of "general evolution". Within such an approach differ-
ences among societies and culture areas look like nothing more than local
variants of each other, different in form but identical in content. Again,
only the vision of evolution as a multilinear or even non-linear process is
capable of outlining a way out of this deadlock.
As is generally known, it had gone without saying until quite re-
cently that the appearance of the state (or in the Marxist theory, of classes)
was sufficient to mark the end of the primitive epoch; there was no room
left for the idea of alternatives to the state existence. All non-state societies
had been declared pre-state, and stood lower than states on the only avail-
able evolutionary staircase. Nowadays these postulates do not look so un-

article. At the same time, the author must attract the readers kind attention to the fact
that all of its shortcomings are on the author’s conscience.
336
deniable. In particular, Pavel Belkov argues in one of his articles that we
should only recognize the existence of the state in bourgeois Europe and
Europeanized regions of modernity from the 15th -16th centuries on
(1995:178-82). Andrey Korotayev forcefully demonstrates in his recent
monographs that non-state societies are not necessarily inferior to states, in
especially from the point of view of the complexity and effectiveness of the
socio-political organization (Korotayev 1995a; 1996; 1998 etc.). The prob-
lem of the existence of non-state societies, which are not primitive either
(i.e. principally non- and not pre-state), alternatives to the idea of the state
as the inevitable post-primitive form of socio-political organization, is not
only worthy of attention but is "ripe" for further analysis with a view to its
solution.
Examples of alternatives to the state reveal that it is possible to
achieve the same level of system complexity through differing pathways of
evolution which appeared simultaneously and increased in quantity along-
side socio-cultural advancement (Pavlenko 1996: 229-51). Thus, human
associations may be compared not only vertically but also horizontally in
that they may be on the same or on different evolutionary staircases, but
comparable with each other in the sense implied by the principle of the
"law of homologous series" in biology.
At the same time, all evolutionary variability can be reduced to two
principally different groups of homologous series, because any society is
based either on a hierarchical (vertical) or non-hierarchical (horizontal)
principle. This fundamental distinction among societies, which might cut
across those of the same level of complexity, predates human society, for it
has been discovered in non-human primate groups. It can be described as
the distinction between either "egalitarian" or "despotic" (Butovskaya
1994) society, and it passes the whole length of human history from non -
egalitarian and egalitarian early primitive associations (see: Artemova
1991) to contemporary totalitarian and democratic organizations. The prin-
ciple of a society's organization determines its general appearance, that is,
culture in the broadest meaning of the word, influencing every one of its
subsystems -- social structure, economic ties, political organization and the
character of the person's relations with authority, specific features of his
mentality and picture of the Universe -- and even has an influence upon the
form and content of the art produced by it.

337
Early post-primitive societies offer extremely significant and excep-
tionally varied data for affirming this idea, and for its further analysis and
development. Such societies belong, on the whole, to the same stage, that
of the complex (supra-communal, non-primitive) socio-political organiza-
tion, which is found in many forms, not just that of the state. Both hierar-
chically and non-hierarchically organized variants of the same level exist1
in each phase of the process represented by these societies. At least three
and perhaps four pairs of this kind can be distinguished: chiefdom - tribe,
complex chiefdom - tribal union, megacommunity - civil community (po-
lis),2 and possibly also early state - poleis union. It is also worth noting that
an ecological or socio-historical situation often demands, for the sake of
better adaptation, a transition not from one stage or phase to another, but a
transition from one evolutionary staircase to another. The new staircase
would need to include a stair in some way analogous or similar to the
original situation. Examples might include a transition from the chiefdom
to the tribe as described by Korotayev (1995a; 1996; 1998), or a transition
from a totalitarian to a democratic modern society. Evolution in the "Spen-
cerian" sense of the word so common used in anthropology, i.e. the ad-
vancement from the lower to the higher, does not take place in either case.
But one can trace the inner transformation and reorganization of all of the
society's subsystems, while the former level of the system's complexity is
maintained on the whole.
Hierarchical and non-hierarchical societies (at least those at the stage
of the formation of complex political organization), differ in the correlation
of kin and territorial lines in their organization. And it can be suggested
that this distinction is in its turn connected with the type of the community,

1
Today the greatest reward in posing the problem of horizontal and vertical organiza-
tion of society at the stage of the formation of complex political organization, and in
studying its separate concretely historical aspects no doubt belongs to Yuri Berezkin
(see his recent publications: Berezkin 1995a; Berezkin 1995b) and Andrey Korotayev
(see, e.g.: Korotayev 1995b; Korotayev 1995c; Korotayev 1996a). But there have
been no attempts at a general typology and serious theoretical solution of the problem
up till now.
2
About the notion of "megacommunity" and its contents see: (Bondarenko 1994; Bon-
darenko 1995a: 276-84; Bondarenko 1995 c; Bondarenko 1996). About the polis as a
non-state form of social-and political organization and its spatial and temporal unlim-
itedness to antique Europe see: (Korotayev 1995 c).
338
the universal substratum social institution,1 which is dominant. The ex-
tended-family community in which vertical social ties are vividly ex-
pressed, being given the shape of kinship relations (elder - younger), is
characteristic of hierarchical societies. And peculiar to non-hierarchical so-
cieties is the territorial community in which social ties are horizontal and
apprehended as neighborhood ties among those equal in rights. Because
supra-communal socio-political structures and institutions arise out of a
communal substratum (see: Bondarenko 1995a: 183-94, 295 note 3), the
nature of the substratum is what determines, in a great measure, the charac-
ter of a newly-forming post-primitive society, including the basic principle
of its organization.
Hierarchical and non-hierarchical societies (once again, at least those
of early post-primitive character) also differ in the nature of their forma-
tion, i.e. of integrating local societies into a united supra-local social organ-
ism. It seems to be predominantly forcible for hierarchical societies, when a
hierarchy is settled as a result of the submission of the weaker components
of a complex society to the stronger ones, and it seems to be mainly peace-
ful for non-hierarchical societies. In another variation, the components of a
complex society are united on a volunteer basis assuming a background of
more or less equal in rights, and by way of synoichism. Examples are pro-
vided, for instance, by the socio-political history of the genesis of the an-
cient Greek poleis and the Swiss Confederation of the Middle Ages (see:
Korotayev 1995b). It is important to mention that only in this evolutionary
direction does the building of civil society become possible.
The choice of an evolutionary staircase by which a given society will
go during its next historical period is primarily determined by the society’s
all-round adaptation to external conditions both the natural environment
and the socio-historical. Adaptation reveals the evolutionary potential of a
society, the limits of its advancement. There is no predestined inevitability
of transition, e.g. from the early state to the mature one.1 The environment
also sets the optimum type of the socio-political organization that exists in
continuous interaction with what is outside it, is given.
One of the key notions for revealing the essential backgrounds of so-
1
About initial universality of the community for the primitive society see: (Kabo
1986).

339
cieties and their systems is that of civilization, the "type of civilizational
development". From the global point of view, there are perhaps two such
types which correspond to fundamentally different ways of interacting with
the environment (see: Bondarenko 1992: 30; Bondarenko 1995b: 19-21;
Bondarenko 1997: 18-24). One is the transformational, in which the envi-
ronment is seen as something separate from humanity. Here the process of
influencing the environment is realized as though from without, through
deliberate change and transformation. Another type is the accommodational
which supposes the starvation to accustom to the environment, to influence
it as though from within, staying a part of it. At the same time, both trans-
formational and accommodational traits are invariably present in the "geno-
type" of any society. Furthermore, at concrete historical moments transfor-
mational features can become clearly apparent in societies of generally ac-
commodational type and vice versa.
Thus it is more correct to speak of predominantly transformational
and predominantly accommodational types, trends of civilizational devel-
opment. In every society, they cross the directions of its evolutionary ad-
vancement influencing the form of its realization. In particular, it can be
supposed that non-hierarchical types of socio-political organization are
more often found in societies of predominantly transformational type of
civilizational development though strict correlation is not observed here.
The accommodational type of development2 is realized under natu-
ral-and-climatic conditions too favorable for human activity to create an
impetus for rapid transformation of the society1 This might be found when
there is no socio-ecological crisis (simple adaptation is enough for well-to-
do existence in this case) or on the contrary, under difficult conditions
when a society's opportunities are hardly sufficient for adaptation, the proc-
ess of which takes it too much historical time. And it is only in Europe
(with the exception of the far North), that the natural-and-climatic optimum
for self-realization of the transformational type of development existed
throughout historical times. (Naturally, manifested in period of greater or
1
Furthermore, for the adepts and supporters of the early state concept such a transition
truly seems not a rule but an exception to it (Claessen, van de Velde 1987: 20 et al.).
2
This was ascertained as early as by geographers of antiquity, then again by thinkers of
the Renaissance and was most distinctly expressed by George Buckle and Georg
Wilhelm Friedriech Hegel in the 19th century (Buckle 1906: 17-8; Hegel 1935: 76).

340
lesser activity in this or that epoch of the accommodational tendency). The
conditions in Europe were rigorous enough to create the impetus for trans-
formation and mild enough to give opportunities for it.2
As for other parts of the planet, even in primary centers of transition
to a productive economy, like the Middle East or South-East Asia and
Southern China, the conditions nevertheless turned out not so ideally favor-
able for irrevocable strengthening of their societies on the transformational
trend of development. The same may be true for independent centers of the
productive economy's appearance in Central and South America. The first
transformational trend of the development of the great ancient Eastern so-
cieties (Oppenheim 1968) did not turn out irreversible either.
The problem of correlation between evolution and progress also
arises. If we understand the latter in its original sense as used in the Age of
Enlightenment, that is, as an improvement in human nature, progress may
not exist at all. But must we reject this notion altogether, as is sometimes
suggested? Once again, if one takes up anthropocentric, ethical positions,
then yes, it is. But if we try to attach to it a positive, strictly scholarly, so-
ciological character, it is possible and even necessary to preserve it: Disen-
gaging from the question, when was it better to live, at the time of wooden
plough or in the epoch of tractors and combines, changes cannot but be
recognized. And changes can be recognized in terms of increases in various
quantitative, and not just qualitative, indices: an objective growth from
phase to phase, or from one stage to another, of inner systematic complex-
ity of societies attributed to them, of the volume of production, and a
broadening of the network of communications.
At the same moment, progress must not be identified with evolution
in the Spencer-Tylor sense: with the advancement from the lower to the
higher. It seems reasonable to speak of progress in its objective, positive
conception in two aspects: the evolutionary and the civilizational. Criteria
of the latter are relative: every civilization from this point of view enjoys
the trend and criteria of progress and "progressiveness" of her own. They

1
E. Huntington has called this event the "principle of non-inclination to work under
high temperatures" (Huntington 1947: 269).
2
In the philosophy of recent decades, in a broader sense this problem is being formu-
lated in the following way: "Really human productive, creatively constructive activity
is engendered not by immediate requirements of the subject but by the contradiction
between them and the conditions for their satisfaction" (Didkovski 1986).
341
consist in an increasingly complete display of her essential characteristics,
traits, properties, i.e. not in outer, "ethnographic" changes to which the civi-
lizational development does not lead directly but in the perfection, in Al-
fred Kroeber's (1957) words, of her "style". At the realizing of civiliza-
tional analysis, the revealing of the dynamics from lower to higher is possi-
ble only for a separate civilization but not on a global scale.
The identification of progress with evolution, in the initial sense of
the latter, seems incorrect also for one additional reason. "Progress" as a
notion is semantically and axiologically identical in its essence with "im-
provement"; in the case of societies, with the increase of the degree of their
adaptation to the natural and socio-historical environment. But the transi-
tion to a higher stair of an evolutionary staircase does not always promote
it, i.e. presents a progressive fact. It is enough to recall what the transition
from feudalism to capitalism and attempts to respond to the global chal-
lenge of modernization led to in Russia: as a final result, to the events of
1917. On the contrary, going downstairs on the staircase of socio-historical
phases sometimes turns out to be genuinely progressive, like the so-called
"post-Micenian regress" in Greece which prepared the birth of the polis
(see: Andreev 1985). So, progressive development does not mean the tran-
sition to a higher stage without fail, not always is evolution in its initial
sense.
But modern foundations of the theory of evolution laid in biology by
Alexei Severtsov (1939), evidently demand the inclusion of the case of de-
scending movement in the notion of evolution, too. Thus evolution ought to
be visualized not only as non-unilinear, but, again opposing early views, as
also not directed in always from below upwards. Furthermore, not just go-
ing downstairs on the evolutionary staircase but making no headway on one
and the same stair may also be considered an evolutionary event if it is in
this way that a given society maintains its optimal existence under the con-
ditions it has to deal with.
Many aspects of the problem have not even been mentioned in this
short paper. But I did not feel it was my task to embrace all of them. The
task was to outline a possible way of taking the study of the formation of
complex political organization out of the deadlock it is in. This involves the
unambiguous rejection of the idea that the state is the only post-primitive
form of socio-political organization.

342
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345
19

ONCE AGAIN ON HORIZONTAL AND


VERTICAL LINKS IN STRUCTURE
OF THE MIDDLE RANGE SOCIETIES

Yuri E. Berezkin

The degree of complexity of human societies is so high that any at-


tempt to describe them using one given system of notions is doomed to re-
main futile. It is only logical that during the last 140 years all major theo-
ries in cultural anthropology have emerged not by development of previous
ideas but through a complete change in the fundamental approach to the
object of study. Partisans of evolutionist, historical, socio-functional, psy-
chological, or structural methods who had always criticised each other in a
very resolute way have been speaking different languages and addressing
different subjects. Though certain ideas of a particular person could proove
to be either fruitful or otherwise, no approach itself can be either com-
pletely rejected or recognized as the only legitimate and distinguished ave-
nue.
Scholars investigating social structure have usually shared either
evolutionistic or sociological and functional ideas. Of course, we do not
mean by evolutionism the naive periodisations of the 19th century and do
not reduce this approach to the ideas of Leslie White. The most general
trait of evolutionism is the comparative evaluation of separate societies in
such a way that some are seen as deserving higher marks than the others.
Such an evaluation is not possible if we put in comparison complex phe-
nomena and unique systems. It can be correct, however, if we take into
consideration concrete features and indices described in equivalent terms
and expressed, if possible, in a numerical form. These are mainly the indi-
ces that correspond to technology (in a broad sense of the word), to people

346
themselves (e.g. average life expectancy), or to some organizational forms
of social units. This last aspect is of interest for us now.
Social units can be compared according to size, degree of internal in-
tegration and decision-making methods necessary to their functioning; such
decisions can be maded in either a centralized or decentralized way. The
size of the units is a trait that certainly permits valuation. This possibility
lets us ascribe to the same or to different taxonomic groups, societies that
otherwise demonstrate significant differences in technology, ideological
systems, presence or absence of writing systems, etc. Such a cross-cultural
comparison permits us to go beyond the traditionally accepted but usually
imprecise terminological stock-phrases. E.g. the many different polities,
ancient to modern, that have been called kingdoms, principalities, city-
states, etc. but which correspond to the standards of chiefdoms, at least of
middle range societies. The well known map "The increase of the territory
of the ancient states" that opens the Ancient History textbook in all schools
in Russia, and imprints the respective stereotype into the consciousness of
its young readers, demonstrates indeed the expansion not of states but of
civilizations that possessed writing systems. The mapping of the expansion
of middle range societies in different epochs (along with similar maps that
would show the spread of real states and of societies at the autonomous
community level) would reveal very interesting tendencies in the develop-
ment of socio-political organization. Unfortunately, since the times of J.
Steward's "Handbook of South American Indians" such a task has not even
been attempted.
The degree of internal integration of a society is connected with its
centralization though the interdependence of these two parameters is not
always direct. Under integration we understand the intensity of information
exchange among members of a social unit. Study of such a process must
draw upon the methods of contemporary sociology. That means that for
most societies we have no chance of knowing any details and must restrict
ourselves with a comparison of units of similar size and with rather crude
approximations. Practically, we are only able to chose between two fields
of meaning within which our index can change. The first category encom-
passes all societies in which activity is coordinated by a ruling center, along
with all other societies whose members communicate regularly with each
other. Before the development of effective means of communication, the

347
possibility of intensive communication could be guaranteed only by com-
mon residence within an area that could easily be crossed on foot during a
day. The integration of more dispersed units was much lower. These decen-
tralized units form the second category. Here a kind of coordination of the
activities of the members is realized, but unconsciously through similar re-
actions to similar circumstances.
Formerly it was believed that integrated units larger than 500-1000
members are relatively stable only if their decision making was centralized.
The higher the population numbers, the more pronounced the centraliza-
tion. This evolutionary trajectory leads to the emergence of states with their
administrative machineries. The possibility of the co-residence of a large
number of people in the absence of centralized authority was demonstrated
and explained for the first time on the basis of data on the Ge Indians of
Eastern Brazil (Flowers 1983; Margolis, Carter 1979; Maybury-Lewis
1971; 1979; Seeger 1981; Werner 1983). In this case, up to two or three
thousands of people were coming together during the period of agricultural
work. After a couple of months they abandoned community villages and
dispersed again along a vast territory, living on hunting and gathering. The
seasonal character of integration does not select the Ge among the majority
of Amerindian populations organized on the chiefdom level. The settlement
patterns typical for chiefdoms has been also characterized by dispersed
residence. The concentration of population in so called ceremonial centers
was temporary, restricted to the time of the feasts. A more important pecu-
liarity of the Ge is the absence of community leaders, either formal of in-
formal. Under close attention we can conclude, however, that the very pos-
sibility of leadership is intrinsic to the corporate (usually clans-and-
moieties) system itself. Here the subjects or тunitsу of meaningful social
contacts are not individuals but rather corporations of different status and
taxonomical order. The complex system of matriclans and moieties based
on multiple dual divisions of the community, served to regulate the activity
of every person in Ge society. Though the Ge lacked institutionalized lead-
ers, the places for them were reserved in the very structure of the commu-
nity, while their respective functions were fulfilled by groups of influential
men well experienced in the organization of rituals.
The ethnohistoric data on Andean societies as well as some archaeo-
logical facts suggest that a dual organization has been present from early

348
times in the Central Andes (Berezkin 1997; Millones, Onuki 1993; Neth-
erly 1984). Before the emergence of hereditary chiefs (as testified by the
first appearence of rich tombs somewhere between 900-500 B.C.), leader-
ship functions could be fulfilled by persons elected for a restricted time or
by certain groups of individuals. Whatever the particular form of the deci-
sion making, a potential center of power was present here from the very
beginning thanks to the existence of the system of corporations. Corporate
architecture in the Americas required the coordinated effort of dozens,
hundreds and sometimes perhaps even thousands of workers. The broad
geographic and temporaly early (before the emergence of villages) appear-
ance of public constructions is closely connected to the existence of a clan-
and-moiety type of organization.
Incipient centralization can also be suggested for some archaic pre-
state Middle Eastern societies. Materials of the Ghassul culture of the IV
millennium B.C. Palestine are significant in this respect. The temple of En
Gedi built on a desert plateau distant from the irrigated zone and probably
visited only periodically by shepards and agriculturalists dispersed along a
vast territory is a characteristic site. The hoard of 436 copper objects (both
prestigious decorations and tools) made by the lost wax method has been
found in Nahal Mishmar cave, 10.5 km from En Gedi. Objects of bone,
flint, shell, woolen and linen cloths, and baskets were also part of this
hoard. Because the En Gedi temple entrance was closed with brickwork, it
is reasonable to suggest that people had the time needed for taking away
and hiding the valuables before the area was abandoned. The interpretation
of the Nahal Mishmar hoard as being the En Gedi temple treasure seems
therefore very probable (Alon, Levi 1989, fig.3; Gilead 1988: 430-431;
Mazar 1990: 66-75; Tadmor, Kedem 1995). In any case, the hoard suggests
a concentration of wealth in the Chalcolithic of Palestine which has no
known parallel in contemporary Mesopotamia (late Ubaid or early Uruk
time). Besides Nahal Mishmar, another cave site, Nahal Kana is important.
Among the burials excavated in this cave one is especially rich. Eight rings
of gold weighing from 88 to 165 g each have been found (Gopher et al.
1990). The concentration of wealth of the Nahal Mishmar scale reflects the
existence of some organizational center for the dispersed population, and
0.5 kg of gold in a burial means a unique social status for this person even
if we cannot say what could be his particular functions and office. Earlier I

349
had an opportunity to express an agreement with I. Gilead who has refused
to see any indications of the existence of chiefdoms in the Neolithic and
Chalcolithic of the Middle East (Gilead 1988: 433). The data on Ghassul
also lack such indications but only in the sense that we have no reasons to
suggest the existence of powerful leaders with, for example, the preroga-
tives of Old Testament "judges". But what the Ghassul data certainly do
demostrate is the existence of at least some kind of organizational centers.
If the dichotomy of "stable polity with a distinct center of power" (usually
the ruling chief) vs. "amorphous unit with a perceptible center of power"
(often a shrine) corresponds to different levels of political centralization,
the dichotomy of societies with at least an incipient center of power and
those with no center at all, seems to reflect different paths of the evolution.
The existence of integrated middle range societies that at the same
time lack evidence of centralization is a case of a real alternative in the evo-
lution of social systems. Here we speak first of all about big Neolithic set-
tlements like 'Ain Ghazal and Catal Huyuk and of Chalcolithic - Bronze
Age settlements in Eastern Iran and Southern Turkmenistan (Shahr-i Sok-
hta, Altyn-depe, Ilgynly-depe and probably others not so well excavated
like Tepe-Hissar, Turang-tepe, etc.). Population figures that have been sug-
gested for these societies vary between 2,000 for the Neolithic and Chalco-
lithic and 5,000-25,000 for the Bronze Age. As I have suggested elsewhere,
a good ethnographical correlate for such societies would be a cluster of
Apa Tanis villages in the Eastern Himalaya that demonstrate the very pos-
sibility of a population unit of 10,000 integrated not through vertical hier-
archy but through a system of horizontal links among families with a very
subordinate role for clans (Berezkin 1994; 1995; 1996; 1997).
A.V. Korotayev has demonstrated that the tribes of the Arab-Muslim world
as well as some other groups (e.g. in Dagestan) share with the Apa Tanis
some very important traits of socio-political organization. In all these cases,
organization is based on the independence of households from any higher-
level corporate structures, and on land and other goods as private property.
The societies in question stand in opposition to most Amerindian examples,
for which corporations, hierarchies and community owned land are typical.
The last of these traits (community property) needs, however, much more
systematic research. In particular, for the period of the first European con-
tacts, relevant data are usually absent or quite imprecise.

350
A series of disturbing questions emerges in connection with the
study of Middle Eastern middle range societies based on horizontal links.
Why have the inhabitants of Near Eastern settlements been living for thou-
sands of years on the same, small, densely build pieces of land despite the
apparent inconvenience of such a settlement pattern? How stable is our
ground when we suggest the weakness or complete lack of clan organiza-
tion and the existence of private property for such a society as PPNB, the
earliest in the world to posess a more or less fully developed productive
economy? Can we identify any tendencies in the preceding period, or going
back into the Paleolithic, that might have contributed to the development of
systems with horizontal rather than vertical structural links (and if so, what
are they), or was this evolutionary trajectory realized through chance and
local factors that had begun to be felt only during the Neolithic? What cir-
cumstancies are related to the transition from systems with horizontal or-
ganization to centralized hierarchies? In the Turkmen-Khorasan area such a
transition around 2000 B.C. took the form of a cultural cataclysm, but what
can be said of Southern Mesopotamia in the IV millennium B.C., during
the emergence of Uruk civilization?
In conclusion we would put forward a rather risky hypothesis. Cor-
porate structures in pre-state societies are mainly connected with a system
of clans and moities. Classificatory systems of relations also are connected
with clans. As far as we know peoples of the Ancient Middle East had nei-
ther classificatory systems, nor clans, not to mention moieties. Would it be
too bold to suggest that it was this original lack of, or underdevelopment of,
a clan-and-moiety system that contributed to the more important role of
personality that, in turn, had hindered the development of hierarchies?

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351
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organizasii sloznykh nepervobytnykh obshchestv [The apology of tribalism:
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Maybury-Lewis, D. 1979 (eds). Dialectical Societies. The Ge and Bororo of Central
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Netherly, P.J. 1984. The management of Late Andean irrigation systems on the North
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352
20

THE STATELESS POLIS: THE EARLY STATE


AND THE ANCIENT GREEK COMMUNITY1

Moshe Berent

In his discussion of the monarchical form of constitution Aristotle


poses the following problem for kings:

The ... question, which also raises difficulties, is that of the king's bodyguard. Should
the man who is to be king have a force about his person which will enable him to co-
erce those who are unwilling to obey? If not, how can he possibly manage to govern?
Even if he were a sovereign who ruled according to law, and who never acted at his
own discretion and went outside the law, he must necessarily have a bodyguard in
order to guard the law (Aristotle Politics III.15, 1286b27-30. Tr. Barker 1946).

This passage would seem very strange to the modern reader, who would
take it for granted that such a bodyguard should exist. And that it should
exist not only in connection with a special kind of constitution, kingship,
but rather with every form of constitution. Yet the question of a 'bodyguard'
as an enforcement apparatus does not arise at all in Aristotle's discussions
of the other two forms of government, that is aristocracy (or oligarchy) and
democracy (or polity). The reason for this is that unlike what has been tra-
ditionally assumed the polis was not a State but rather what the anthropolo-
gists call a ‘stateless society’. The latter is a relatively egalitarian unstrati-
fied community characterized by the absence of coercive apparatuses, that
is by the fact that the application of violence is not monopolized by an
agency or a ruling class, and the ability to use force is more or less evenly
distributed among an armed or potentially armed population. As the polis

1
This paper was extracted from my Cambridge Ph.D. thesis. I owe special thanks to the
late Professor Ernest Gellner who commented on my thesis and on earlier versions of
this paper and to my supervisor Dr. Paul Cartledge who has also helped me to bring
this paper to its present form.
353
was stateless, there was not a ready made state-apparatus, one over which
anyone who wished to, or was urged to, rule could preside. Thus a body-
guard had to be especially created for him. The same problem did not exist
for aristocracy and democracy, because in these forms of constitution there
was actually no ruler and both kinds of constitution were expected to derive
the force needed for their defence directly from their 'natural' followers: ar-
istocracy from the body of 'best men', and democracy from the demos. This
observation could be demonstrated by occasions in which such constitu-
tions had collapsed. At Athens, for example, in 462 the absence of 4000
hoplites, who had been taken by Cimon to help Sparta subdue the Helot re-
volt in Messenia, facilitated the democratic advances initiated by Ephialtes,
while the absence of thousands of thetes, when the fleet was stationed at
Samos, was vital for the oligarchic coup of 411 (Finley 1981:29).
While it is agreed today that the early State played a significant role
'in the direct exploitation of the producers through taxation, compulsory la-
bour and other obligations' (Khazanov 1978:87), the statelessness of the
Greek polis means exactly that it was not an instrument for the appropria-
tion of surplus production, and those modes of early agrarian State exploi-
tation did not exist in ancient Greek world (at least before the Hellenistic
Empires).
The statelessness of the Greek polis makes social anthropology a
proper discipline for its analysis. However, such an analysis could not be
carried out without qualifications. The main obstacle to the application of
social anthropology to the Greek arena seems to be that anthropologists
tend to identify the stateless community with the tribe (Gellner 1981:24-25;
1988a:152; 1991:64), while it is agreed that the classical polis was not
tribal and it is strongly doubted today whether tribal forms existed in an-
cient Greece even in archaic times. Being both, stateless and non-tribal, the
Greek polis posses a serious problem for many basic assumptions of mod-
ern social anthropology. Thus, for instance, the assumption that the State is
a necessary condition for civilization, or that stateless communities are
‘primitive’, while Greek society was both civilized and stateless. Conse-
quently modern social anthropology not only ignored the statelessness of
the ancient polis but on the contrary its evolutionary school reinforced the
myth of the classical ‘Greek State’ while adding to it another myth, that of
the archaic ‘Greek Tribe’.

354
I. Polis and State1
a. Definitions
Broadly speaking, the traditional definitions of State could be classi-
fied into those based on (a) stratification and (b) authority or the structure
of the government itself (Cohen 1978a:2-5: 1978b:32-4; I have modified
Cohen's position slightly limiting myself to traditional definitions of the
State).
Definitions based on stratification stress the correlation between
States and the existence of permanent social classes. In those definitions
the State is either identified with the ruling class or viewed as dominated by
the ruling class, and is used as an instrument for the appropriation of sur-
plus production. Though those definitions have been usually associated
with Marxism, and especially with Engels' Origins of the Family, Private
Property and the State, stratification is considered today as a universal cor-
relate of the early (and pre-modern agrarian) State (Claessen and Skalnik
1978:20-1). Thus Gellner observes that

In the characteristic agro-literate polity, the ruling class forms a small minority of the
population, rigidly separated from the great majority of direct agricultural producers,
or peasants. Generally speaking, its ideology exaggerates rather than underplays the
inequality of classes and the degree of separation of the ruling stratum. This can turn
into a number of more specialized layers: warriors, priests, clerics, administrators,
burghers. The whole system favours horizontal lines of cultural cleavage, and it may
invent and reinforce them when they are absent (1983:9-10). 2

Gellner himself doesn't think that his model of the agrarian State applies to
the classical Greek world, pointing out that the Greek world lacked hori-
zontal cultural differentiation and a military-clerical domination (1983:14;
1988a:22). The citizens of the polis were not professional soldiers or ad-
ministrators. Further, the cultural horizontal cleavages which Gellner sees
1
I have already argued some of the main points which appear in this section in previ-
ous papers. I repeat them here for the clarity of the argument. See, Berent 1996:36-
59; 1998.
2
Gellner's position is different from that of classical Marxism. According to the latter,
stratification, or the emergence of classes, must precede that of the State. Thus, clas-
sical Marxism sees the State as a 'third power' and the prize of the class-struggle be-
tween the ruling and the ruled. Gellner, on the other hand, identifies the ruling classes
with the (agrarian) State and limits struggles for power to the ruling strata only (that

355
as characteristic of stratified agrarian communities were absent in the
Greek case; the Greeks emerged from the Dark Age as the 'nation' of
Homer, that is, no class had a monopoly on literacy and culture. Indeed
Gellner calls Greek society a 'domination-free society' (1988a:22).
Yet, the existence of exploitation (notably slavery) or of privileged
groups (notably the citizens) in the polis could not be denied. In the same
manner one could not deny that in a certain sense the citizens did have a
monopoly on the application of physical force. These have led to attempts
to modify Gellner’s model of the agrarian State in order to make it applica-
ble to the ancient Greek arena. I will return to these attempts later on.
A second set of definitions of State focuses on the structure of the
governmental system itself, looking for institutional hierarchy and centrali-
zation, territorial sovereignty, the monopoly of the application of physical
coercion (Cohen 1978b:34). Here the best starting point would probably be
Max Weber's celebrated definition of the state as that agency within society
which possesses the monopoly of legitimate violence (Weber 1978:54).
Thus as Gellner observes

The 'state' is that institution or set of institutions specifically concerned with the en-
forcement of order (whatever else they may be concerned with). The state exists
where specialized order-enforcing agencies, such as police forces and courts, have
separated out from the rest of social life. They are the state (1983:4).

This definition is far from being true for the polis. The rudimentary
character of State-coercive apparatus in the polis has been noted by Sir
Moses Finley among others. With the partial exceptions of Sparta, the
Athenian navy, and tyrannies, the polis had no standing army. Only in the
case of tyrannies were militias used for internal policing (Finley 1983:18-
20). (Tyrannies were indeed attempts to centralize the means of coercion,
that is to create a State). As for police, it seems to be agreed that the ancient
polis 'never developed a proper police system' (Badian 1970:851); the near-
est thing to it was usually a 'small number of publicly owned slaves at the
disposal of the different magistrates' (Finley 1983:18).
The absence of public coercive apparatuses meant that the ability to
apply physical threat was evenly distributed among armed or potentially

is, in Marxist terms he identifies only 'one power' - the ruling classes). See, Mann
1988:48-9. And see also below.
356
armed members of the community, that is, the citizen-body. Thus, as Lin-
tott has observed, policing was done by self-help and self-defence (that is
with the help of friends, neighbours, family) (Lintott 1982; Rihll 1993:86-
7). There was no public prosecution system, and cases were brought to the
popular courts either by interested parties or by volunteers. In the same
manner, court orders were not carried out by the officials but by the inter-
ested parties, sometimes by self-help.
In Athens, for instance, what could be seen as a State law-
enforcement apparatus, were the Eleven who had the charge of the prison
and executions, and who, like most Athenian magistrates, were ordinary
citizens chosen by lot for one year. The Eleven did not normally make ar-
rests on their own initiative. Those were carried out by self-help, by inter-
ested individuals or by volunteers (Lintott 1982). In other words the pris-
oners were brought to the Eleven. Further, imprisonment was not normally
a form of punishment imposed by the courts in the classical polis (Todd
1990:234) (which is not surprising, since prisons are typically part of the
bureaucratic machinery of the State); in Athens it was more usual to detain
people in the public prison under the supervision of the Eleven until they
were tried or while they were awaiting execution (by the Eleven).1 The
Eleven were also responsible for the execution without trial of kakourgoi,
that is, robbers, thieves and other criminals who were caught red-handed
and confessed. Again the kakourgoi were not arrested by the Eleven but
brought to them by ordinary citizens (Hansen 1976:9-25).2There was also
in Athens a corps of Scythian archers 'probably more decorative than use-
ful, especially for keeping order in law-courts and assemblies' (Badain
1970:851). Anyway, they were not 'any kind of police force in the general
modern sense' (Hansen 1991:124).3
To the extent that this apparatus could be described as a police force,
its rudimentary character becomes obvious when one is considering the

1
Also a man condemned to pay a fine could face imprisonment until he paid it (Mac-
Dowell 1978:257).
2
However, ephegesis was a process (rarely mentioned by the sources) in which arrest
was carried out by the Eleven probably because the prosecutor lacked the power to
make the arrest (Hansen 1976:24-7).
3
Sparta had a 'secret police' (the krupteia), but only for use against the Helots and not
against the Spartiates (Badian 1970:851; Cartledge 1987:30-2). Even so, Sparta is an
exception which would need a special discussion.
357
size of the population in Attica (that is above 200,000 including non-
citizens (Gomme and Hopper 1970:862). Thus Finley emphasizes that:

Neither police action against individual miscreants nor crisis measures against large
scale `subversion' tells us how a Greek city-state or Rome was normally able to en-
force governmental decisions through the whole gamut from foreign policy to taxa-
tion and civil law, when they evidently lacked the means with which, in Laski's vig-
orous language, 'to coerce the opponents of the government, to break their wills, to
compel them to submission (Finley 1983:24).

As for the differentiation or the separation of State institutions 'from


the rest of social life', Finley has noted also that Athens, with all its impres-
sive political institutions and empire, had virtually no bureaucracy at all
(Finley 1977:75). Athens's political institutions, the Assembly (ekklesia)
the Council (boule) and the Law-courts (dikasteria), were popular, not dif-
ferentiated from the demos. 1 The various offices in Athens (most of the
magistrates, including the archons but not the generals (strategoi) were des-
ignated by lot for one year (Finley 1977:75). Designation of political of-
fices by lot for short periods is another way of preventing the differentia-
tion of a state. It also bore directly on the 'constitutional' and actual power
of those officials. ‘This leads to the elision of anything that could properly
be termed an executive power, and reduces officers to individuals not dis-
tinct from the demos’ (Osborne 1985:9).
In Athens it is possible to distinguish also between 'government' in
the sense of political institutions and officials, on the one hand, and 'gov-
ernment' in the sense of people who formulated policy. While the political
institutions and offices were staffed by amateurs, thus exhibiting no divi-
sion of labour, one can speak of a certain kind of a division of labour con-
sidering the 'professional politicians' in Athens, that is the demagogues and
those who proposed and spoke in the assembly. Yet in the sense that these
people could be called a government, this was certainly a non-State gov-
ernment. The Athenian leader did not have any formal position and State
coercive apparatus at his disposal. He was simply a charismatic individual,
a demagogue, who could persuade the people in the Assembly to accept his
policies, but still risked losing his influence (and his life!), and having his
policies rejected at any moment (Finley 1985:24).
1
This is the traditional view. However, Hansen argues that the dikasteria, the law
courts, were a differentiated body. See, for instance, Hansen 1989:102.
358
b. Slavery
The existence of exploitation (notably slavery) or of privileged
groups (notably the citizens) and the fact that to a certain sense the citizens
did have a monopoly on the application of physical force have led to at-
tempts to modify (Gellner's) model of the agrarian State in order to make it
suitable for the ancient Greek world. An analysis of these modifications
could elaborate further on the differences between the polis and the agrar-
ian or early State.
The most obvious modification for the model of the Agrarian State
would be to follow I. Morris in drawing the main horizontal line (which
separates rulers from ruled) between the citizens and the slave population
(Morris 1991:46-9). Again, seeing the citizens as a 'ruling class' conflicts
with Gellner's model of the agrarian State because the absence of a division
of labour: the citizens were not professional soldiers or administrators.
Thus a further modification seems to be suggested by Runciman who says
that two necessary conditions are paramount in a polis:

First, a polis must be juridically autonomous in the sense of holding a monopoly on


the means of coercion within a territory to which its laws apply. Second, its form of
social organization must be centered on distinctions between citizens, whose monop-
oly of the means of coercion it is, who share among themselves the incumbency of
central government roles, and who subscribe to an ideology of mutual respect, and
non- citizens, the product of whose labour is controlled by the citizens even if the
citizens do the same work (when not under arms) (emphasis added) (1990:348).

Runciman still considers coercion in what he calls 'a citizen- state', as a


means of appropriation of surplus production . His model assumes that the
citizen-body acts as a sort of a centralised body towards the slaves or the
non-citizens in general. Is this view justified?
With the conspicuous exception of Sparta, the absence of any organ-
ized militias or otherwise professional bodies for internal policing is recog-
nized today. How, then, were the slaves controlled?
Ancient Greece was characterized by chattel slavery; that is, slaves
were usually owned by individual masters and not by the public. Further,
and this is important, the control of the slaves was also 'private', that is, by
self-help. In an illuminating passage in the Republic Socrates equates the
slave owner with the tyrant. It is the business of the slave-owner to control

359
the slaves. But why is it that 'Such slave-owners ... don't live in fear of their
slaves'. The answer is that 'the entire polis (pasa e polis) would run to help
(boethei) him' (Plato, Republic 578d-e. Plato, Republic 361a-b.).1 That
Socrates refers here to self-help rather to any organized or professional help
becomes more obvious from what follows:

But imagine now that some god were to take a single man who owned fifty or more
slaves and were to transport him and his wife and children, his goods and chattels
and his slaves, to some desert place where there would be no other free man to help
him; wouldn't he be in great fear that he and his wife and children would be done
away with by the slaves? (Plato, Republic 578e) (emphasis added).

The emphasis here is not on the absence of a State in some desert place,
and not even on the absence of citizens, but rather on the absence of other
free men who constitute the natural group from which help could come. In
Xenophon’s phrase in a similar passage all the slaveowners in the commu-
nity act together as ‘unpaid bodyguard’ (Xen. Hiero, 4.3; and see Fisher
1993:71-2).
The absence of any ready militia to crush slave-revolts is comple-
mentary to the fact that 'slaves never represented a cohesive group either in
their masters' or their own mind so for all their exploited situation they did
not engage (for the most part) in social conflict' (Figueria 1991:302; see
also Vidal-Naquet 1981:159-67), and that we don't know of any slave re-
volts in ancient Greece again with the conspicuous exception of Sparta. As
for the latter, the Helots were not at all chattel slaves but a local population
which was enslaved by Sparta and were only able to revolt outright because
of their ethnic and political solidarity, while 'these conditions did not obtain
for chattel slaves of classical Greece' (Cartledge 1985:46).2 And indeed the

1
Tr. Desmond Lee, 2nd revised edn., Harmondsworth, 1974. Here, I must say, the tra-
ditional translations are imbued with statism, thus P.Shorey translates 'because the en-
tire state is ready to defend each citizen' (Loeb edn, London 1935) and Desmond Lee
translates 'Because the individual has the support of society as a whole'. What is miss-
ing is the notion of self-help which is projected by the verb boethein. Boe means a
shout and also a cry for help. The boe was a main way of calling the neighbours for
help and people were supposed to run in response to a cry for help. The verb boethein
became one of the standard Greek words for giving assistance. See Lintott 1982:18-
20.
2
The Helots were not slaves in the ordinary sense. They were an identifiable and cohe-
sive population who have been enslaved en bloc by conquest. They were, therefore
Greek, not foreign; they tended to be property of the city as a whole, not just owned
by individuals. Hence Garlan in his Slavery in Ancient Greece ch. 2 classifies them as
360
Greeks had already discovered that slaves were easy to handle when they
were disoriented, thus Aristotle says that:

This is the way in which we suggest that the territory of our polis should be distrib-
uted, and these are the reasons for our suggestions. The class which farms it should
ideally, and if we can choose at will, be slaves - but slaves not drawn from a single
stock, or from stocks of a spirited temper. This will at once secure the advantage of a
good supply of labour and eliminate any danger of revolutionary designs (Aristotle,
Politics VII. 10, 1330a24-29). 1

Disorientation and deracination were important tools for the control


of the slaves. Another was manumission and a certain incorporation into
the Greek society. In their analysis of slavery in Africa Kopytoff and Meir
suggest that while emphasis has been usually laid on 'how slaves are ex-
cluded from the host society ... the problem for the host society is really
that of including the stranger while continuing to treat him as a stranger'
(Miers and Kopytoff 1977:15-6). Consequently African slave societies of-
fer social mobility to the slaves from the status of the total stranger towards
the incorporation into the kinship group in what Kopytoff and Meir call 'the
'slavery to kinship continuum' (ibid.:19-26). In classical Greece manumis-
sion and a certain mobility existed along with what might be called a 'slav-
ery to citizenship continuum'. One potential source of large scale manumis-
sion in the polis were shortages in warriors and rowers for the army and the
navy (Fisher 1993:67-70). The fact that usually the process of incorporation
was arrested at a very early stage and full incorporation of slaves into the
citizen body was rare and could have taken more than one generation does
not undermine its existence and importance (Morris 1991:174). It is impor-
tant to note that Greek slaves were incorporated also culturally into the
Greek society. Plato's and the Old Oligarch's complaints that in Athens
slaves could not be identified by their physical appearance were perhaps an
overstatement of this phenomenon. In other words, the cultural horizontal

'community slaves'. Since these were actually communities many scholars (e.g. Ste
Croix in his Class Struggle') find it helpful to classify them as 'state-serfs' rather them
as slaves (Fisher 1993:23-4).
1
Plato (The Laws 777) says that 'The frequent and repeated revolts in Messenia, and in
states where people possess a lot of slaves who all speak the same language, have
shown the evil of the system often enough ... if slaves are to submit to their condition
without giving trouble, they should not all come from the same country or speak the
same tongue, as far as it can be arranged (Plato, The Laws, Tr. Trevor J.Saunders.
Penguin edn, 1970), and see Garlan 1988:177-83).
361
cleavages which Gellner sees as characteristic of stratified agrarian com-
munities were absent in the Greek case.
The absence of coercive apparatuses made the polis less equipped for
domination through conquest. The price of such domination would have
been the creation of a Spartan-type community, that is turning the commu-
nity into a military camp. 1 Consequently, in many cases, though Greek
colonization started indeed with a conquest, the new poleis preferred either
to annihilate the local inhabitants, or expel them, or to sell them as slaves,
rather than to enslave them and create a Spartan-type community (Rihll
1993:92-105). The absence of coercive apparatuses also prevented the in-
crease of the number of slaves beyond a certain point. Thus the relative
number of slaves within the total population seems also to conflict with
Gellner's model of the agrarian State. While in the latter the rulers form
only a tiny fraction of the total population, in the Greek polis the slaves
('the ruled' in this case) were at most 35-40 percent of the total population
(Fisher 1993:34-6; Cartledge 1993:135).

c. Exploitation
The idea that the (agrarian) State was an instrument for the appro-
priation of surplus production is not confined to Marxists, and it is agreed
today that the early State played a significant role 'in the direct exploitation
of the producers through taxation, compulsory labour and other obligations'
(Khazanov 1978:87). This feature of the polis, according to which internal
coercion was not organized or professional but rather exerted by self-help,
that is, by volunteers, means that the polis was not a State, but rather, as
Aristotle says, an association or partnership (koinonia). This does not
mean, of course, that the polis' economy was not based also upon the ap-
propriation of surplus production of the slaves (or the 'poor' in general), but
that exploitation and slavery could exist in stateless conditions. This point
is made clearer when we examine to what extent modes of exploitation as-
sociated with the agrarian State existed in the polis. Khazanov observes
that:

1
There seem to be such communities on the island of Crete, in Thessaly, Heraclea on
the Black Sea, Syracuse and few others. See Fisher 1993: 32-3.
362
... one characteristic of most, if not all, early states deserves special attention because
it may well turn out to be one of their distinctive features. I am referring here to the
significant role played by the early state in the direct exploitation of the producers
through taxation, compulsory labour and other obligations (ibid.). 1

In their Pre-capitalist modes of production Hindess and Hirst include


direct State taxation, appropriation and compulsory labour in the ancient
mode of production (Hindess and Hirst 1985:86-7). Among modern histo-
rians Ste. Croix applies the same modes of exploitation to the Greek polis.
He distinguishes between what he calls direct and individual exploitation
on the one hand (wage-labourers, slaves, serfs, debtors etc.) and indirect or
collective, that is State exploitation, on the other. The latter is defined by
Ste. Croix (1981:44) as ‘when taxation, military conscription, forced labour
or other services are exacted solely or disproportionately from a particular
class or classes ...by a State dominated by a superior class'.
Let us examine to what extent these modes of State-exploitation
(taxes, forced conscription and forced labour), existed in the polis.
As for taxation, Ste. Croix himself admits that 'in the cities before the
Hellenistic periods it may often have been quite light' (1981:44). In fact the
absence of direct taxation of citizens has been a recognized feature of the
polis (Austin, Vidal-Naquet 1977:121; by contrast there was no hesitation
in taxing non-citizens. See, ibid.:122-3.). Taxation usually characterized
tyrannies, yet the latter were indeed attempts to create centralised power,
that is to create a State. Further, not only was direct taxation not imposed
(on the poor of Athens), it was also the legal duty of the rich to undertake
liturgies. The liturgy-system was a system whereby the rich carried a large
financial burden and were recompensed by corresponding honours. It
points to the fact that generally speaking the economic burden of the polis
fell directly upon the rich rather than the poor citizens and points further to
the Greek polis being an association rather than a State. Of course, it could
be still claimed that the economic burden fell indirectly on the poor - the
rich exploited the poor. Yet this was 'individual exploitation' rather than
'State-exploitation'.
If we move to Ste. Croix's second mode of State-exploitation, that is
forced conscription of the poor, Ste. Croix himself admits that, 'In the

1
Khazanov doesn't consider the Greek 'State' to be an early State but 'the next, higher
state of development' (1978:77).
363
Greek cities military service ... (the hoplite army) was a 'liturgy' expected
of those I am calling 'propertied classes' (1981: 107). However, invoking
Marx who has already noted that 'Military service hastened to so great an
extent the ruin of Roman plebeians' (ibid.: 208), Ste. Croix maintains that
while conscription bore heavily on the poor it ‘presented no really serious
burden on the well-to-do, who did not have to work for their living’ (ibid.:
207-208).
However, as Paul Millett says, while this was true for the Roman
plebeians, 'in Athens, if anything, the reverse seems to have been the case,
with wealthier citizens bearing the costs of the campaigns while the mass
of the people enjoyed any benefits' (Millet 1993:184; Pritchett 1991:473-
85). Ste. Croix's claim that military service impoverished the poor ignores
the centrality of war in the economy of agrarian society in general and the
polis in particular. War also promised the participants a direct share of the
booty (Pritchett 1971:82-4; 1991:363-401, 438-504) and through soldiering
people could escape poverty, that is could be fed and paid (Pritchett
1971:458-9). 1
Further, the history of Athens becoming a democracy shows that,
from the class point of view (though perhaps not from the individual point
of view) conscription was a privilege, not a duty. It was the invention of the
infantry hoplite army which hastened the downfall of the aristocracy-cum-
oligarchy, and the centrality of the Athenian navy in maintaining the em-
pire hastened the development of democracy. From the opposite reasons
and from a purely class point of view it was not in the interest of the oligar-
chy to arm the masses (that is to 'conscript' them). Aristotle has pointed out
their dilemma:
Changes may happen in oligarchies owing to internal reasons and without any attack
from outside alike in war and in peace. They happen in war when members of the
oligarchy are compelled by distrust of the people to employ an army of mercenaries.
If a single man is entrusted with the command of these mercenaries, he frequently
becomes a tyrant, as Timophanes did at Corinth; and if command is vested in a num-
ber of persons, they make themselves a governing clique. Fear of such consequences
sometimes forces oligarchy to employ a popular force, and thus to give the masses
some share in constitutional rights (emphasis added) (Politics V.6, 1306a20-26, and
see also Plato, Republic 551e).
1
Another matter is the fact that one of the prime targets of war in ancient Greece had
been the destruction of crops and other agricultural resources (see Foxhall1993:134-
36). Thus long invasions did not affect all alike - farmers were hit harder than those
without land and some farmers were hit harder than others (see Osborne 1987:154;
Foxhall 1993:142-3).
364
It is exactly the decentralised and relatively egalitarian nature of the
polis which made forced ‘conscription’ the enemy of class domination.
Consequently, arming the masses, that is increasing the military participa-
tion ratio, had to be accompanied by the increase of the political participa-
tion ratio. Thus ‘conscription’ was not forced upon the disenfranchised but
rather was forced by external conditions, like wars, upon the franchised.
It seems, then, that when one examines closely Ste. Croix's argument
about class exploitation in the Greek polis his argument is very weak con-
cerning what he calls 'indirect and collective' exploitation by a 'State domi-
nated by a superior class'.
The absence of public coercive apparatuses was, then, complemen-
tary to absence of these modes of State-exploitation which characterized
early States. Consequently to a large extent the Greek polis was not as an
instrument for the appropriation of surplus production. Here a major ques-
tion arises: how did the Greek achieve the ‘good life’? or in other words,
how did they manage to sustain civilized life? Slavery was one way to
achieve the 'good life', but it could not be enough, probably because there
were not enough slaves. We must remember that in agrarian States, the
small civilized minority who appropriates the surplus production of the vast
majority, consists of tiny fraction of the entire population, while in Athens
the slaves were at most 35-40 percent of the total population. The absence
of coercive apparatuses made the increase in the number of slaves beyond a
certain point impossible and dangerous.
Thus slavery had to be reinforced and supplemented by war. This
should not surprise us. As Gellner has pointed out, in the agrarian world
wealth can generally be acquired more easily and quickly through coercion
and predation than through production. Whether in a certain agrarian soci-
ety violence would take the form of coercion or predation depends on how
the means of coercion are distributed. Most agrarian communities are au-
thoritarian, that is stratified State-societies, where the means of coercion
are centralised or monopolized by a ruling class. In such societies coercion
takes the form of State domination and State appropriation of surplus pro-
duction. Yet there is another kind of agrarian societies - egalitarian stateless
communities. These societies are characterized by a high Military Partici-
pation Ratio, that is, almost everybody carries arms in wartime. What char-

365
acterizes such communities is that they resist coercion. In such stateless
communities violence would take the form of defence, predation and war
against the outside world (Gellner 1991:62-3).
The centrality of war and booty in the economy of the polis has long
been recognized. In the Phaedo Plato says that ' All wars are undertaken for
the acquisition of wealth' (66c) and Aristotle points out five modes of ac-
quisition 'the pastoral, the farming, the freebooting, the fishing, and the life
of the chase' and he sees war as a 'natural mode of acquisition' (Aristotle,
Politics I.8, 1256b23). Indeed 'warfare in the ancient Greek world was a
mode of production' (Rihll 1993:105). 1 And Finley comments on this as
follows:
Why did the Greek poleis war with each other incessantly? No simple
answer is available. In the present context, the suggestion may suffice
that Greek poleis lacked the resources in men, land and materials with
which to provide for their citizens the 'good life' that was the avowed
purpose of the state. They could overcome chronic scarcities only at the
expense either of a sector of their own citizenry or other states (Finley
1981:33; 1985 ch. 6 esp.:158-9; Manicas 1982:679-80).

II. The Two Plans of Government - Social Anthropology


and the Greek Polis

a. Social Anthropology and the Myth of the Greek State


The statelessness of the Greek polis makes social anthropology a
proper discipline for its analysis. Yet social anthropology not only ignored
the statelessness of the ancient polis, but on the contrary reinforced the
myth of the classical ‘Greek State’ while adding to it another myth, that of
the archaic ‘Greek Tribe’.
It was the evolutionist tradition which prevailed in social anthropol-
ogy in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, which reinforced

1
Millett says 'As far as the Greek themselves were concerned warfare was conceived as
potentially profitable' (1993:183-4).
366
the idea of the classical Greek State. According to evolutionism, human so-
cieties have been constantly evolving following the same pattern, though
not necessarily the same timetable. The existence of primitive stateless
communities (such as the Iroquois of North America) meant, according to
evolutionism, that each historical western societies had also gone through
this tribal stage before they evolved into their State-form. The task of histo-
rians and anthropologists alike was to try to establish the various evolution-
ary stages in history for every society (Kuper 1988:1-7; Crone 1986:56-8).
Greek society was not exempted; on the contrary, it was used to exemplify
the first historical transition from a tribal community into a State. As Lewis
Henry Morgan put it in his Ancient Society

It may be here premised that all forms of government are reducible to two general
plans, using the word plan in its scientific sense. In their bases the two are fundamen-
tally distinct. The first, in order of time, is founded upon persons, and upon relations
purely personal, and may be distinguished as society (societas). The gens is the unit
of this organization; giving as the successive stages of integration, in the archaic pe-
riod, the gens, the phratry, the tribe, and the confederacy of tribes, which constituted
a people or a nation (populus). Such ... was the substantial universal organization of
ancient society; and it remained among the Greeks and the Romans after civilization
supervened. The second is founded upon territory and upon property, and may be
distinguished as a state (civitas). ... Political society is organized upon territorial ar-
eas, and deals with property as well as with persons through territorial relations. ... It
taxed the Greeks and the Romans ... after they had gained civilization, to ... inaugu-
rate the second plan of government, which remains among civilized nations to the
present hour (Morgan 1877:13-4).

It is not only the assumption that the classical Greek polis was a State
which is important here, but the idea of duality, that is that in principle
there could be only two modes of government, tribal (and stateless, though
Morgan does not use this term) on the one hand, and States on the other.
Another important duality which appears in the above quotation is that of
State=private property on the one hand and tribal (and stateless) commu-
nity = commune, on the other. Consequently if private property and 'class'
conflict could be found in classical Greece, than the polis must have been a
State (see, for example: Starr 1986:43-5). A third important duality used by
Morgan is that of tribe=primitive on the one hand and State=civilization on
the other. From this one might conclude that if the Greek polis was civi-
lized, then it must have been a State.

367
Here, of course, the contribution of classical Marxism to the notion
of the Greek 'State' should be emphasized. There could be little surprise
that Morgan's theory was accepted enthusiastically by Marx and Engels and
was incorporated into the canonical Marxist teachings (Gellner 1988b:39-
68). The classical Marxist text in this matter is Engels' Origins of the Fam-
ily, Private Property the State. According to Engels the first evolutionary
stage of the Greeks was a stateless commune

The gentile constitution had grown out of a society which knew no internal contra-
dictions, and it was only adapted to such a society. It possessed no means of coercion
except public opinion (Engels 1884:228).

However, such society was not equipped to deal with private property and
class-conflict once they appeared, thus it needed a State:

But here was a society which by all its economic conditions of life had been forced
to split into freemen and slaves, into the exploiting rich and the exploited poor; a so-
ciety which not only could never reconcile these contradictions, but was compelled
always to intensify them. Such a society could only exist either in the continuous
open fight of these classes against one another or else under the rule of a third power,
which apparently standing above the warring classes, suppressed their open conflict
and allowed the class struggle to be fought out at most in the economic field, in the
so called legal form. The gentile constitution was finished. It was shattered by the di-
vision of labour and its result, the cleavage of societies into classes. It was replaced
by the state (Engels 1884:228).

Engels leaves no doubt as to the 'State' character of the ancient polis:

The people's army of the Athenian democracy confronted the slaves as an aristocratic
public force and kept them in check; but to keep the citizens in check as well, a po-
lice force was needed ... . This public force exists in every state; it consists not
merely of armed men but also of material appendages, prisons and coercive institu-
tions of all kinds (Engels 1884:230).

A contemporary Marxist interpretation of the so called ‘class struggle’ in


ancient Greece could be found in Ste. Croix’s The Class Struggle in the
Ancient Greek World where he says:

We can accept the fact that what we call 'the state' was for the Greeks the instrument
of the politeuma, the body of citizens who had the constitutional power of ruling. ...
Control of the State, therefore, was one of the prizes, indeed the greatest prize, of
class struggle on the political plane. This should not surprise even those who cannot

368
accept the statement in the Communist Manifesto that 'political power, properly so
called, is merely the organized power of one class for oppressing another (1981:287).

Indeed, the notion of class struggle as offered by Greek sources in which


the ‘classes’ fight for domination on more or less equal terms seems to fit
neatly into the classical Marxist notion of class struggle. Let us take the fol-
lowing numerical calculation put forward by Aristotle when he advocates
the rule of the middle 'class', the middling group of citizens:

It is clear from our argument, first, that the best form of political society is one where
power is vested in the middle class and, secondly, a good government is attainable in
those poleis where there is a large middle class - large enough, if possible, to be
stronger than both of the other classes, but at any rate large enough to be stronger
than either of them singly; for in this case its addition to either will suffice to turn the
scale, and will prevent either of the opposing extremes from becoming dominant
(Politics IV.11, 1295b34-39).

While it seems to fit neatly into the classical Marxist scheme, this
description is problematic from the model of the early agrarian State pro-
posed by Gellner. According to Gellner in agrarian stratified State-societies
politics is limited to struggles within the ruling elite, thus there is no ques-
tion of the ruled, the vast number of unarmed direct producers (which sup-
pose to be the equivalent of the Greek ‘poor’), assuming control of the
State. In fact, it is here where Gellner’s model seems to conflict with clas-
sical Marxism (Hall 1985:28-32) Consequently from Gellner’s point of
view what Aristotle describes here is a decentralised and egalitarian com-
munity. The ability to use force is distributed among armed or potentially
armed members of the community, thus each class can command force,
and, as expected in an egalitarian community, force is directly related to the
size of the group. It might be related also to the type of weapons available
to the various groups. Thus the rich could probably afford to be fewer than
the poor, since they could afford better arms (such as the hoplite armour).
However, society is still egalitarian and decentralized, since the disadvan-
tage of the poor in weapons could be overcome by their numbers. From Ar-
istotle's calculation it is also obvious that the various elements of society
are, if not of the same size, at least of a similar order of magnitude. The
situation in agrarian stratified State-societies is different. In the latter the
ruling classes are only a tiny minority of the total population while the vast

369
majority are peasant producers. Thus force is totally divorced from num-
bers. Further, as already noted, in agrarian stratified communities politics is
limited to struggles within the ruling elite, thus there is no question of the
ruled, the vast number of direct producers, assuming control of the State. 1
We may reach here an interesting conclusion: the only reason classi-
cal Marxism was able to read into the Greek sources its notion of class
struggle, a notion in which every class could potentially prevail, was ex-
actly because the Greek polis was not an (agrarian) State, but rather a state-
less and relatively egalitarian community.
It is important to note the 'middle class' in Aristotle’s quotation
above prevails because it is large enough, not because it establishes domi-
nance over the other sections of the community. It has no means to do so:
the armies engaged in the so called ‘class struggle’ or stasis are non-
professional citizen armies, and they exist only as long as the hostilities
last. There is, of course, the possibility that a victorious party would want
to achieve domination, and that it would not dissolve and disarm itself, but
rather go on to establish a tyranny. Tyrannies were indeed attempts to gain
and centralize power, that is to create a State, and the only case where mili-
tias or bodyguards were available for the purpose of ruling.
Yet, normally the purpose of stasis was not the establishment of tyr-
anny but rather change or appropriation of the constitution. The most obvi-
ous aspect of a constitutional change was a decrease or increase of the citi-
zen body. Citizenship, quite apart from the implications of political, legal
and religious status, carried with it substantial economic gains. Thus only
citizens could own land, in the Athenian case only citizens could share the
profits of the mines. Only citizens had access to public funds (liturgies,
booty, and (in the Athenian case) the levies that came from the empire).
Only citizens had the right to assistance with respect to food supply. Fur-
ther, as Aristotle tells us, the constitution was an arrangement of offices
and it determined the offices and their distribution within the various 'ele-
ments' of the citizen body. Sometimes offices carried with them profits, as
in the case of the Athenian juror, the dikastes (Finley1976; reprinted in
Finley 1981:81-2; Garnsey 1988:80).
1
As Michael Mann observes, the direct producers and expropriators could unite against
the State political elite, not to transform it, but to evade it. Thus when the ruled are

370
Thus, though each ‘class’ wished to impose its constitutional prefer-
ences upon the others, this was not meant to be done by a government
which imposed law and order, but rather by the vivid memory of the out-
come of the last armed struggle, or stasis, plus the new constitutional ar-
rangements. In other cases, such the one which Aristotle advocates, in
which one group or class was ‘large enough’, the outcomes of stasis could
be foreseen in advance and the threat of stasis could be enough to bring
about the constitutional preferences of the dominant group (see also Berent
1998).

b. Social Anthropology and the Myth of the Greek Tribe


While modern social anthropology enhanced the myth of the Greek
State it was also partially to be blamed for the creation of another myth,
that of the ‘Greek tribe’.
Indeed, the traditional view, dominant until recently, was that the
classical polis had evolved from the archaic polis which was tribal. There is
no doubt that the myth of the ‘Greek tribe’ was directly related to that of
the ‘Greek State’: from 19th century evolutionist point of view the classical
Greek State must have evolved from tribal forms. The notion of the latter
seemed to be supported by the existence of the Athenian phylai, gene and
phratries, which looked like lineage systems. Yet the notion of the Greek
tribe has in the last two decades come under fierce attack which has started
by the works of two French scholars, F.Bourriot and D.Roussel (Bourriot
1976; Roussel 1976). According to these two scholars the tribal model of
archaic Greece was mainly a product of late nineteenth- and early twenti-
eth-century rationalizing. Heavily influenced by the evolutionist anthropo-
logical theories of the day, historians postulated that primitive Greeks must
(like Morgan's Iroquois) have had 'tribes', 'phratries' and 'clans' (Donlan
1985:295-6; Roussel 1976:99-103). Roussel and Bourriot refuted the notion
of the archaic Greek tribal community basically by pointing out there is no
literary evidence in Homeric and Archaic literature of clan property, clan
cults and joint family, nor that the obligation of assistance in blood-feuds
(that is, self-help) rested within a joint family; rather they showed that the
word genos is used in its normal meaning of birth or family origins (Smith

involved in class conflict in agrarian States, they are not aiming at the control of the
State, but rather at its disintegration (see Mann 1988:51-6).
371
1985:53; see also Bourriot 1976:240-300; Roussel 1976:30-1). 1 Further,
they showed that there is no archaeological evidence which supports the
existence of continuous burial plots form the Dark-Age to the classical
times (Bourriot 1976: 850-99; Smith 1985:54-5).
Finley, who adopted enthusiastically Roussel's findings suggested
that the notion of the tribal polis ‘runs counter to the evidence’ and that ‘In
so far as it is not merely the by product of a linear theory of human social
evolution, it reflects a fundamental confusion between family and clan or
tribe’ (Finley 1983:44-5; 1985:91; Murray 1990:13).
Comparing the archaic Greek social structure with contemporary
theories of tribal structure gives reasons for further doubts over the alleged
tribal nature of archaic Greece. Segmentary theory, which is associated
with the works of E.E. Evans-Pritchard and E. Gellner, suggests that when
a tribal community is divided in times of conflict, the division should be
according to lineage. However, the divisions within the polis were usually
ad-hoc associations. Self-help was exerted on an ad-hoc basis by family,
friends and neighbours in order to respond to particular situations or emer-
gencies. The Greek political divisions in the case of civil war, the staseis,
were 'temporarily organized groups of citizens' (Wheeler 1977:168) and
were not identical with the so-called Greek kinship units. The absence of
segmentation in the Greek polis should be added to the proof that these
were not kinship groups (at least as those are envisaged by segmentary the-
ory).
It is important to emphasis that the inadequacy of social anthropol-
ogy to the ancient Greek arena goes far beyond the shortcomings of evolu-
tionism. Contemporary social anthropology has still retained the classical
evolutionist basic assumption of the ‘two plans of government’ and its de-
rivatives and it still identifies the stateless community with the tribe, or, as
Gellner put it, social anthropology rejects the Hobbesian notion of the indi-
vidualistic state of nature:

Long before modern social anthropology made the same discovery, Ibn Khaldun
knew full well that the state of nature is not individualistic, but tribal. ... in the wil-
derness, the state of nature is a reality: the maintenance of order and the righting of

1
These features formed the traditional nineteenth - century notion of the tribal commu-
nity based on the definition of the genos originally formulated by George Grote and
modified by Lewis Morgan.
372
wrongs is in the hand of an armed population itself, and not of a specialist law en-
forcement agency, i.e. the state. But this statelessness is not individualistic. Those
who partake in it feel affection for their fellows of the same lineage. Order is main-
tained, at least in some measure, by the mechanisms of stateless tribal organization
(1981:24-5).

In another place Gellner says that 'agrarian man seems to face the dilemma
of being dominated either by kings or by cousins' (1991:64). Thus if one
assumes, within the framework social anthropology, that the polis was
stateless one has also to assume that it was tribal. Yet, the Greek polis was
neither a State nor a tribe and consequently the Greek citizen was domi-
nated neither by kings nor by cousins. To a large extent the Greek ‘state of
nature’ was indeed individualistic.
Further, contemporary social anthropology accept Morgan’s supposi-
tion and still considers the (tribal) stateless community as primitive and the
State as a necessary condition for civilization. Thus Sahlins observes that

A civilization is a society both massive and divided within itself. The population is
large, perhaps ethnically diversified, divided by its labors into specialized occupa-
tions and, by unequal interests in the means of power, divided into unequally privi-
leged classes. All the cultural achievements of civilization depend on this magnitude
and complexity of organization. Yet a society so large, heterogeneous, and internally
divided cannot stand without special means of control and integration ... The cultural
richness that we call civilization has to be instituted in state form (Sahlins 1968:6-7;
Khazanov 1978:89-90; Crone 1956:49-50).

Yet, the Greek polis and Greek society in general were both civilized and
stateless. Further, Greek society was civilized in a manner which was dif-
ferent than that of authoritarian agrarian communities. While in the latter
civilized life pertain only to a tiny minority which composed the ruling
classes, in the Greek world civilization was shared by all. The Greeks in-
deed emerged form the Dark-Age as the Nation of Homer and the cultural
development of Archaic Greece pertained to the life of almost everyone in
the Greek world (Snodgrass 1980:160-1).
It is obvious, then, that the notion of the ‘two plans of government’
employed by social anthropology is inadequate for the ancient Greek arena.
We need now a ‘third plan’ which would be able to explain the existence of
civilized life in the stateless conditions of ancient Greece. Yet, in the ab-
sence of the State, how were the internals divisions and the various inter-
ests checked? Further, in the absence of a central authority which symbol-

373
ized and imposed identity , on the one hand, and the absence of kinship
identity (and, in fact, also a territorial one1), on the other, how did the
Greek polis manage to keep its cohesion? The answers to these questions
lie beyond the scope of this paper.

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376
21
THE CHIEFDOM: PRECURSOR OF THE TRIBE?
(Some Trends of the Evolution of the Political
Systems of the North-East Yemen in the 1st and
2nd Millennia A.D.)*

Andrey V. Korotayev

In the 1st millennium A.D. the North-East Yemen political system


consisting of a weak state in its centre and strong chiefdoms on its periph-
ery1 appears to have been transformed into a system consisting of a bit
stronger state in its centre and true tribes (but not chiefdoms)2 (see e.g.
Robin 1982b; Piotrovskiy 1985; Dresch 1989: 191).3 Within this system the
tribes and state constituted one well integrated whole (Golubovskaya
1971:59-62; 1984:11; Stookey 1978:79-95, 171-173; Obermeyer 1982;

*
The research has been supported by the Russian Foundation for Basic Research (pro-
ject # 970680272) and the Russian Ministry of General and Professional Education
(the Language, Culture, Society Program; project # 01.0100.99.F).
1
This system seems to have existed in the Sabaean cultural-political area in the Middle
Period (the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD - see Korotayev 1991; 1993a; 1993b; 1993c;
1993d; 1994a; 1994c; 1995b; 1995c; 1995d; 1996 &c).
2
Thus, according to Dresch in al-Hamdani's time (the 10th century AD) "Upper Yemen
may well have been in a state of transition from a quasi-feudal system to the tribal one"
(Dresch 1989:191); according to Dresch similar conclusions have been produced by
Gochenour (Dresch [1989:191] refers to Gochenour's PhD thesis [Gochenour
1984a:36ff.] which remains unavailable to me).
3
In the meantime in the Southern Highlands (in the former Himyarite area) there
persisted more regular state structures (see e.g. Burrowes 1987:9; Dresch 1989:8-15,
192; Obermeyer 1982:31-32; Stookey 1978:50, 124; Weir 1991:87-88; Wenner
1967:38 &c). I would emphasize that the state organization in the Southern Highlands
was already significantly stronger and more regular than in the North in the 2nd and 3rd
centuries AD (see e.g. C 448 + Ga 16 [Hakir 1]; R 4230; Bafaqih, Robin 1980:15;
Robin 1981b:338; Bafaqih 1994; Korotayev 1990; 1995a; 1997 &c), whereas in that
period in the North we find a much stronger clan organization (Korotayev 1990:10, 17-
18, 22; 1993c:51-53, 56; 1995a: Chapters I, III).
377
Piotrovskiy 1985:70, 97-100; Gerasimov 1987:45-55; Udalova 1988:18-19;
Dresch 1984b; 1989; 1991; Abu Ghanim 1985:98-138; 1990; vom Bruck
1993 &c). There does not seem to be any adequate term to denote systems
of this kind.
It might be reasonable to apply here some term like a "multipolity",
defining it as a highly integrated system consisting of heterogenous polities
(e.g. of state and chiefdoms, or state and tribes).1 The following reservation
seems to be necessary here: the medieval political system of North-East
Yemen (as well as the Middle Sabaean political system [the 2nd and 3rd
centuries A.D.]) included in addition to state and tribes (of course, not
chiefdoms as it was in the Middle Sabaean case) some other important ele-
ments. It seems sufficient to mention here the "religious aristocracy" (say-
yid/sadah), tracing their descent to Muhammad, and performing in the
tribal areas e.g. important mediating political roles, as usual without occu-
pying there any formal political functions and remaining mainly outside the
tribal (and in most cases state) hierarchy (Serjeant 1977:237-239; Chelhod
1970:80-81; 1975:70-71; 1979:58f.; Gerholm 1977:123; Stookey 1978:95;
Obermeyer 1982:36-37; Dresch 1984:159f.; 1989:140-145; Abu Ghanim
1985:212-227; 1990). Within the medieval North-East Yemen political sys-
tem the sayyids appear to have taken some functions of the pre-Islamic (or,
to be more correct, pre-monotheistic) system of temple centres, on the one
hand, and ones of the qayls, on the other (though, unlike the qayls, the po-
litical leaders of the pre-Islamic sha`b, the sayyids in most cases did not act
as formal political leaders of the North Yemen qabilah). "The true source
of political power lies with the tribal leaders who will accept no control

1
There does not seem to be any ground to consider the multipolity as a local South
Arabian phenomenon. Extra-South-Arabian examples of multipolities of the North
Yemeni Zayd_ type ("state + tribes") could be easily found e.g. in the Middle East of
the last two centuries (see e.g. Evans-Pritchard 1949; Eickelman 1981:85-104; Tapper
1983; Al-Rasheed 1994 &c); the extra-Yemen examples of the multipolities of the
Middle Sabaean type ("state + chiefdoms [+ `independent' communities]") could be
easily found again in the Middle East (where a considerable number of the so-called
tribes are rather chiefdoms in Service's terminology [Service 1971 /1962/:144; Johnson,
Earle 1987:238-243 &c]). Outside the Middle East this type of the multipolity can be
found e.g. in Western Africa (the Benin Kingdom in some periods of its history -
Bondarenko 1994; 1995, and perhaps some other West African "kingdoms" (Service
1971 /1962/:144)). Of course, two above-mentioned types of multipolities do not
exhaust all their possible types. E.g. none of them seems to be appropriate with respect
to the "State of the Saints" of the Central Atlas, whose periphery consisted of tribes, but
whose centre can be characterized neither as a state, nor as a chiefdom, nor as a tribe
(Gellner 1969).
378
from their peers. The solution to this impasse was worked out even prior to
Islam by the evolution of the organization centred upon the sacred enclave,
managed by an hereditary religious aristocracy respected and protected by
the tribes" (Serjeant 1977:244).
There does not seem to be any grounds to consider this transforma-
tion as "degeneration", "regress" or "decline", as there was no significant
loss of the general system complexity and elaboration, one complex politi-
cal system was transformed into another one, structurally different, but not
less complex, highly organized and sophisticated.
The political organization of the Yemeni qaba'il is relatively1 egali-
tarian. However, the North-East Yemen tribal system as a whole in no way
can be considered as egalitarian. The point is that in addition to the mem-
bers of the tribes (constituting in the tribal areas the majority of the popula-
tion and the main mass of the plough agriculturalists) the tribal communi-
ties include numerous "quasi-casts"2 of unarmed3 "weak" population,

1
First of all with respect to the Middle Sabaean sha`b. Robin has already pointed out to
the qualitative difference between the position of the shaykhs of the modern Yemeni
tribes and the one of the qayls of the Middle Sabaean sha`bs (Robin 1982a, I:83-85).
Indeed, the North Yemeni shaykh is primus inter pares (Obermeyer 1982:36; Dresch
1984a; 1984b:156-157; 1989:38-116; Abu Ghanim 1985:115-133, 209-212, 259-266;
vom Bruck 1993:94-95), whereas the Middle Sabaean qayls were separated from the
ordinary members of the sha`bs by an enormous social distance. E.g. the relations
between the qayls and their sha`b are normally expressed in the 'dm - 'mr', "the
subjects - the lords", categories; these very categories were also applied to the relations
between clients and patrons, subjects and the King, people and deities (in R 3910 the
singular absolute form for 'dm [`bdm] is even used to denote the slaves sold in the
Marib market - for detail see e.g. Korotayev 1995b). In most Middle Sabaean
inscriptions authored by the ordinary members of the Middle Sabaean sha`bs they beg
the deities to grant them the benevolence (hzy w-rdw) of their lords, the qayls (and
sometimes even ask them to protect the dedicants against their lords' wrath [glyt]). Of
course, such a style of relations between leaders and commoners appears to be almost
inconceivable for the modern (and medieval) North Yemeni tribes. It seems rather
remarkable that the term sayyid, "lord", which even in the Early Islamic period was
used to denote heads of the tribes (Piotrovskiy 1985:77; Dresch 1989:169, 191-192),
later was completely forced out in the North Yemen by a much more neutral shaykh,
"old man", whereas the use of the term sayyid was restricted to denote only the
members of the "religious aristocracy" placed in the tribal zone of the North Yemeni
multipolity mainly outside the tribal organization, under the tribal protection, but not
above the tribes.
2
A certain similarity between the South Arabian and Indian traditional systems of the
socio-cultural stratification has already attracted the scholars' attention (e.g. Chelhod
1970:83; 1979:59). However, they also stress some essential differences between these
two systems (Chelhod 1970:83; 1979:59; 1985:33; Dresch 1989:153; Rodionov
1994:42).
3
Excluding the traditional Yemeni dagger (janbiyyah): practically all the Northern
Yemenis (including the du`afa') have it, but the weak must place it firmly to the left,
unlike the members of tribes (qabiliyyin), wearing their daggers straight at the front of
379
placed outside the tribal organization, but "under protection" of the tribes
(du`afa', "the weak"):1 butchers and barbers (mazayinah), the tribal "her-
alds" (dawashin), merchants (bayya`in), horticulturalists (ghashshamin),
craftsman, first of all weavers (sani`in), servants (akhdam), placed at the
very bottom of the hierarchy &c; traditionally the Jewish population of the
area also belonged to "the weak" (Serjeant 1977:230-235; Chelhod
1970:63, 73-80, 83-84; 1975:76-82; 1979:48, 54-57; 1985:15-37;
Golubovskaya 1981; 1984:11; Obermeyer 1982:36; Piotrovskiy 1985:64,
87; Udalova 1988:19-20; Dresch 1984b:159; 1989:117-123; Stevenson
1985:42-47, 63f.; Abu Ghanim 1985:234-249 &c).2
The general picture of the social stratification of the tribal areas is
further complicated by the presence of the above-mentioned sayyids and
(not yet mentioned) qadis (the learnt families, not tracing their descent to
Muhammad), who were also under the protection of the tribes,3 playing

their belts (Chelhod 1970:75; 1979:55; Stevenson 1985:44; Dresch 1989:38, 120; vom
Bruck 1993:92-93). The only exception here is a rather special "weak" quasi-cast,
dawashin (the tribal "heralds"), who wear their janbiyyahs like the tribesmen (Dresch
1989:120; and in addition to that dawashin traditionally carried lances - ibid.:406). The
sayyids and qadis wear their janbiyyahs on the right - (which seems to signify quite
correctly their special position in the tribal world - Chelhod 1970:75; 1979:55; Dresch
1989:136; vom Bruck 1993:92; in addition to that, "le poignard porte par le descendant
du Prophete ... est generalement plus decoratif" (vom Bruck 1993:92)).
1
It seems reasonable to stress that the "protection" provided to the "weak" population by
the tribes is in no way an empty word. The failure of the tribe to defend a "weak"
person under their protection (e.g. to secure the payment of fine for an offense
committed against him) constitutes a very strong blow upon the reputation (sharaf,
"honour") of the tribe, whereas the amount of such a compensation often exceeds four-
fold (and sometimes [though very rarely] eleven-fold) the fine for a similar offense
committed against a tribesman (Goitein 1941:39; Dresch 1989:118, 407). In addition to
that, "the call to right wrongs committed against them will generally be answered by
large numbers of men from the tribe in question, whereas the call to support a fellow
tribesman may be far less compelling" (Dresch 1984:159; see also e.g. Obermeyer
1982:36). Also "it's forbidden for a person of superior rank to tease the `anadil (one of
the designations of the "weak" - A.K.) or to wrong them. If such a thing happened then
the whole society would take their side to obtain justice from their oppressor" (Chelhod
1979:55; 1970:75; see also e.g. Stevenson 1985:44).
2
The formation of this system of the "quasi-casts" might be dated to the 12th-14th
centuries (Piotrovskiy 1985:87; Udalova 1988:19). For description of a rather similar
system of "quasi-casts" in Hadramawt see e.g. Naumkin 1980:23; Serebrov 1990; bin
`Aqil 1992:7-8; Rodionov 1993; 1994:21-29; Serjeant 1957 (only sayyids and
mashayikh); Bujra 1971:13-53 &c.
3
There appears to be a certain similarity in the tribal zone in the position of the "weak
quasi-casts", on the one hand, and that of the sayyids and qadis, on the other: both are
under the protection of the tribes, which virtually have the monopoly of the legitimate
use of violence. However, the Yemenis themselves make such a comparison extremely
rarely: "Dawashin in both Dhu Muhammad and Dhu Husayn claim ... to be hijrah [under
380
quite important roles in the functioning of the tribal systems1 (Serjeant
1977:236-237; Chelhod 1970:81f.; 1975:70-71; 1979:58f.; Obermeyer
1982:36-37; Golubovskaya 1984:11; Piotrovskiy 1985:65, 87, 101;
Udalova 1988:20; Dresch 1984b:159f.; 1989:136-157; Abu Ghanim
1985:212-227; 1990 &c).2
In many respects the tribe of the North Yemeni type could be re-
garded as a rather developed form of the political organization, whose
complexity could quite be compared with that of the chiefdom (and it is by
no means more primitive than the chiefdom), implying first of all a very
high level of the development of the political culture and the existence of
an elaborated system of the political institutions and the traditions of arbi-
tration, mediation, search for consensus &c, a wide developed network of
intensive intercommunal links on enormous territories populated by tens
and hundreds thousand people. Such tribal system can to a certain extent
organize (without the application of any centralized coercion) all these

the special protection by the tribes - A.K.], `because we are all bi-l-muhaddash (protected
by an eleven-fold fine) like the qadis and sayyids'... On the plateau I have not heard either
tribesmen or dawashin suggest such equivalence between `heralds' and men of
religion..." (Dresch 1989:407).
1
"Non-tribal quasi-casts" of the North Yemen tribal zone constituted the minority of its
population ("Outside the few towns ... the weak people are not numerous, two or three
families in a village of thirty tribal families is not unusual" (Dresch 1989:123)).
However, it is completely necessary to take them here into account, as they were one of
the most important factors making the North Yemen tribal world what it was - a very
complex and highly organized (and by no means "primitive") system, quite comparable
according to its complexity with most pre-industrial state systems with a similar size of
population (e.g. with the state systems of the Yemen South Highlands and Lowlands).
2
The sayyids and qadis themselves considered their status to be higher than that of the
tribesmen, though there do not seem to be sufficient grounds to regard them as the
dominant strata of the North Yemeni tribes (e.g. Dresch 1984b:159; 1989:136-157). In
the tribal zone the monopoly to apply violence actually belonged to the tribesmen and
not sayyids. Notwithstanding the sayyids' very high reputation, these were the shaykhs
and not sayyids who acted as real political leaders of the tribe (the latter became
shaykhs rather rarely, whereas most sayyids do not seem to have really sought this;
according to Dresch's observations, "there is no reason why someone who happens to
be a sayyid should not also be a shaykh, although this is unusual" (Dresch 1989:156)).
In these respects the relations between the sayyids and the tribesmen resemble to a
certain extent the ones between the brahmans and kshatriyas in ancient India (cp. e.g.
Bongard-Levin, Ilyin 1985:301-304). At the meantime it is rather evident that the
presence of the sayyid families (having a high reputation among the tribes, but not
dominant over them) in the tribal zone must have been a power integrating power
within the North Yemeni multipolity whose state centre was headed for most of this
millennia by the representatives of the "religious aristocracy" (sayyids), the Zaydi
imams (e.g. Stookey 1978:95, 149-155; Chelhod 1985:26-29).
381
masses of population which often exceed the population of an average
chiefdom by 1-2 orders of magnitude.
E.g. Earle defines the chiefdom as "a polity that organizes centrally a
regional population in thousands" (Earle 1991:1); whereas an average
North Yemen tribe includes 20-30 thousand members (Dresch 1984a:33),
and such a relatively highly integrated North Yemen tribal confederation as
Hashid consists of seven tribes (Ibid.; Dresch 1991:256; Chelhod even lists
14 tribes belonging to this confederation - Chelhod 1970:84-85; 1985:57-
58; see also Stevenson 1985:48). Of course, one should not also forget doz-
ens of thousands of the members of the "weak quasi-casts" (as well as quite
considerable numbers of sayyids and qadis) who are not formally members
of the tribes, but who are also to a certain extent organized by the tribal
structures (which e.g. guarantee the security of towns, markets, religious
centres &c within the tribal area). As a result the mass of the population or-
ganized to a certain extent by the tribal confederation Hashid appears to
exceed substantially (by 1-2 orders of magnitude!) the respective figures
for an average chiefdom. One should not also forget the ability of the tribal
organization of this type to form in conjunction with other polities (not
necessarily states - see e.g. Gellner 1969) political systems, multipolities,
with complexity of even a higher order.
The notion of "tribe", as it is used by the social anthropologists for
the description of the socio-political organization of the Northern Yemenis
(or, say, the population of many areas of Afghanistan, Cyrenaica, Atlas &c)
in the 19th and 20th centuries appears rather useful, as it denotes quite a
distinct form of supra-communal political organization, which does not
seem to be adequately denoted by any other current terms, like "chiefdom"
(let alone "state", or "community"). We can observe here such a type of po-
litical organization, when the functioning of quite stable forms of inter-
communal integration takes place without the monopolization by the tribal
leaders of the legitimate application of violence, without their acquisition
of any formal power over the communities and the commoners, when e.g.
the conflicts are solved (or the collective "tribal" actions are undertaken)
not through the decisions of authoritative officials, but through the search
by the tribal leaders (lacking any formal, absolute, independent from their
personal qualities, power) for the consensus among all the interested mem-
bers of the tribe (or the tribes) &c.

382
"A shaykh cannot ... make undertakings on his men's behalf simply on the basis of
his formal position; each undertaking which affects them must be specifically agreed
to..." (Dresch 1984a:39). "The power which a shaykh may have over groups of
tribesmen is not conferred on him by his position. He must constantly intervene in
their affairs, and intervene successfully" [in order to preserve his power] (Ibid.:41;
see also Chelhod 1970; 1979; 1985:39-54; Dostal 1974; 1990:47-58, 175-223;
Obermeyer 1982; Dresch 1984a; 1984b; 1989; Abu Ghanim 1985; 1990:229-251;
vom Bruck 1993:94-95 &c).

It transpires that political structures of the Yemeni qaba'il type1 can


be most appropriately denoted as "tribes", whereas the Middle Sabaean (the
1st-4th centuries AD) supra-communal entities, the sha`bs of the second
order (cf. Korotayev 1991; 1993a; 1993b; 1995b; 1996, Chapter II), could
be with complete justification denoted as "chiefdoms" (cp., e.g., the classi-
cal definitions of the chiefdom and tribe by Service [1971:103, 142,
145-146]). In the meantime within such an approach one would have to
admit the absence of the tribal organization proper in the Sabaean Cultural
Area of the pre-Islamic age.2 That is why there are certain grounds to speak
about the transformation of the chiefdoms into tribes in the "Sabaean"
Highlands in the Early Islamic Period (and to regard e.g. the transmutation
of the pre-Islamic Sabaean3 s2`bn HS2DM into qabilat Hashid of the Is-
lamic age precisely as an evolution from chiefdom to tribal confederation).

1
And not amorphous agglomerates of primitive communities, or such socio-political
entities which can be adequately denoted as "communities" or "chiefdoms" (for a
critical survey of cases of such a use of the term "tribe" see Fried 1975).
2
At least in its highland part, as the semi-nomad population of al-Jawf (e.g. some part of
the Amirites [s2`bn/'s2`bn 'MRM]) might have already had tribal organization in the
Middle Period (see e.g. Ghul 1959:432; von Wissmann 1964a:81-159; Bafaqih
1990:282-283; Robin 1991; Korotayev 1995e).
3
It is necessary to mention that the Sabaeans (SB') were only one of the shacbs belonging
to the Sabaean cultural-political area. The members of all the other shacbs (like Hashid,
Bakil, Ghayman, Sirwah &c) of this area are never denoted as "Sabaeans" ('SB'N) in
the original texts. So to distinguish the "Sabaeans", the inhabitants of the area most of
whom were not Sabaeans and who would have been never denoted as such in the
inscriptions, and the Sabaeans proper (the members of the shacb Saba' who would be
denoted as Sabaeans, SB', 'SB'N in the inscriptions) it might be reasonable to designate
the former as "Sabaeans" (in inverted commas) and the latter as Sabaeans (without
inverted commas). Hence, for example "the Sabaean clans" would mean "clans
affiliated to shacb Saba'", like HZFRM, GDNM, cTKLN, MQRM &c; whereas "the
`Sabaean' clans" will denote all the clans of this area including non-Sabaean clans of
Humlan, Hashid, Sirwah, Ghayman &c. "The Sabaean Lowlands" (with respect to the
Middle Period) would mean the part of the interior Yemeni Lowlands mainly populated
by the Sabaeans, the areas of Marib, Nashq and Nashan, whereas "the `Sabaean'
Highlands" denote the region of the Yemeni Highlands mainly populated by non-
Sabaeans, but constituting an integral part of the Sabaean cultural-political area. Yet as
383
The approach considering the tribe as a relatively late, non-primitive
form of political organization can in no way be regarded as new. In fact, as
is well known, quite a similar conclusion was arrived at by Fried already in
the 60s (Fried 1967; 1975). Indeed, Fried maintains that the tribe1 is a non-
primitive form of political organization which arose in relatively recent
time under the structurizing impact of already formed state systems on un-
structured (or extremely loosely structured) agglomerates of independent
primitive communities.
While agreeing completely with Fried's approach to the tribe as a
non-primitive late form of political organization, I am inclined to suppose
(basing myself mainly on the South Arabian data) that there were some
other ways in which the tribal organization could arise, e.g. through the
transformation of the chiefdoms. Generally speaking, I would state that
Fried seems to have a bit overestimated the role of the structurizing influ-
ence of the state, almost completely refraining from the study of the inter-
nal dynamics of the evolution of the non-state political systems leading to
the formation of the tribal organization.
I do not see any grounds to consider the formation of the North
Yemen tribal organization as a result of the structurizing influence of the
states on the unstructurized primitive population. Some significant influ-
ence was rather exerted on the part of the North Arab tribes, who were in
close contact with South Arabia during all its late pre-Islamic and Early Is-
lamic history (i.e. precisely in the period of the formation of the tribal or-
ganization in this area - Piotrovskiy 1985:8, 64, 69-70; Chelhod 1970:69-
72; 1979; 1985:45-46; al-Hadithi 1978:68, 81-96; Hoefner 1959; Robin
1982b:29; 1984:213, 221; 1991; Wilson 1989:16; von Wissmann
1964a:181-183, 195-196, 403-406; 1964b:493 &c).
However, though significant impact of the North Arabian tribes on
the formation of the "tribal ethos" in the area appears very plausible (this
will be discussed in more detail below), some of the above-mentioned
scholars (Chelhod, Piotrovskiy, Robin) seem to underestimate the signifi-
cance of the internal "logic" of the evolution of the area in this process.2 To

such a convention does not exist at present I have to continue the current tradition of
denoting all the inhabitants of the Sabaean cultural-political area as Sabaeans.
1
Of course, if one understands "the tribe" as a distinct form of the supra-communal
political integration, and does not use it as a synonym of "chiefdom", or "community".
2
Cp. e.g. here much more cautious position of Dresch (1989).
384
my mind, the genesis of the North Yemen tribal organization can be con-
sidered to a considerable extent as a realization of some long-term internal
trends towards "egalitarization" which could be observed in the area since
the end of the 1st millennium BC. It could be considered as a result of the
prolonged search by the main agricultural population of the Northern High-
lands for the optimum (for this area) forms of the socio-political organiza-
tion.
It seems possible to detect some trends towards "egalitarization" al-
ready for the pre-Islamic age. For example, in the Ancient Period (the 1st
millennium BC) of the Sabaean history immovable property was consid-
ered to belong to the heads of the extended families (thus, a head of such a
family would denote this property as "his" /-hw/ [Bauer 1964:19-20;
1965:209-217; Lundin 1962; 1965b; 1971:233-245; Korotayev 1990:16-19;
1993c:51-53; 1995b Chapter III]), whereas in the Middle Period (the 1st-
4th centuries AD) such property would be considered as belonging to the
whole clan nucleus of the clan communities (and consequently in the Mid-
dle Sabaean inscriptions [even installed by single authors] we get across
only the mentions of "their" [-hmw] immovable property, but almost never
"his" [-hw] lands, fields, vineyards &c - Korotayev 1990; 1993c; 1993d;
1995б Chapter III). To my mind, this may be regarded as a result of certain
"democratization" of the internal organization of the Sabaean lineages.
The formation of the tribal organization in the Northern Highlands in
the Islamic age seems to have been accompanied by the further "democrati-
zation" of the land relations, though in a very remarkable way, through the
achievement of a very high level of their individualization (Dresch 1989).
In this area the land relations appear to have passed the way from the pos-
session of the extended family lands by their heads in the Ancient Sabaean
Period (the 1st millennium BC) to the emphatically collective possession of
the arable lands by whole lineages in the Middle Period (the 1st-4th centu-
ries AD) and further (it seems not without some influence of the shari`ah)
towards the individual possession of the arable lands by all the adult mem-
bers of the tribes (the women's land property rights need special considera-
tion for which I have no space here [cf.Mundy 1979; Dresch
1989:276-291]). The last transformation seems to correlate rather well with
the genesis of the tribal organization and the general egalitarization of the
socio-political structures, as such a system of land relations effectively pre-

385
vented the formation of anything like powerful qaylite clans of the pre-
Islamic age with their huge consolidated and indivisible land possessions. It
is also rather remarkable that the genesis of the tribal organization in the
Northern Highlands appears to have been accompanied by the weakening
of the "economic communalism": the Middle Sabaean inscriptions, whose
authors constantly mention the assistance of their communities in their
economic activities (C 224, 4; 339, 4; 416, 4; 585, 2; Ga 6, 3; R 3971, 4;
3975 + Ga 32, 3-4; 4033, 2a; Robin/ al-Hajari 1, 6; /Khamir 1, 4; /Kanit
13+14, 2; Ry 540, 1-2 &c), stand in the sharpest contrast with the descrip-
tions of the economic relations in the tribal Yemeni North characterized by
an extremely low level of the communal economic co-operation: "The lack
of co-operation in practice is perhaps not as marked as in stories told of the
past, but it is still marked enough. Neighbours occupying adjoining houses
or working adjoining plots may help one another gratuitously in time of
trouble, usually, as Doughty put it, `betwixt free will and their private ad-
vantage'; one would work to repair someone else's terrace if one's own ter-
race might be placed in some danger, for example, but hardly for long oth-
erwise" (Dresch 1989:301).
It is also very remarkable that a similar transformation occurred with
respect to the title qayl: in the Ancient Period it was mainly an individual
title, belonging to individual persons, whereas in the Middle Period in the
Sabaean cultural-political area (but not in the Himyarite South!) it started to
be considered as mainly an attribute of whole qaylite clans, but not their
individual members (Korotayev 1990:8-12; 1993c:50-51; 1995a, Chapter I;
see also Robin 1982a, I:79 and Avanzini 1985:86-87). Notwithstanding the
remaining great social distance between the qaylite clans and the main
mass of the members of the Middle Sabaean sha`bs, this transformation
may well be considered as a step towards the North Yemeni tribal model
(cp.Dresch 1984a).
It seems appropriate to mention here a rather democratic internal or-
ganization of the Middle Sabaean (the 1st-4th centuries AD) local commu-
nities, the sha`bs of the third order, demonstrating some evident similarities
with the communal organization of the population of the Yemeni Uplands
of the current millennium (see e.g. Korotayev 1994b). The genesis of the
North-East Yemen tribal organization can well be considered as the process
of the extension of quite democratic principles of the Middle Sabaean

386
communal organization to the supra-communal level (corresponding to the
level of the Middle Sabaean sha`b of the second order).
The genesis of the North-East Yemen tribal organization can be also
considered as a result of the protracted struggle of the main agricultural
population of the Northern Highlands in order to raise their social status.
This struggle seems to have been mainly rather "quite", and that is why it
was noticed by the historical sources rather rarely (see, however, e.g.
al-Hamdani 1980:328). In any case there are certain grounds to suppose
that the main mass of the North Highlands agricultural population used the
political upheavals of the end of the 1st millennium AD in order to raise
significantly their social status.1
No doubt, a certain role in the formation of the high-status tribal ag-
ricultural population was played by the above-mentioned influence of the
political culture of the North Arabian tribes. One of their most important
contribution here appears to have been the transmission to the Arabian
South of the "genealogical culture". The pre-Islamic South Arabian com-
munities were sha`bs, emphatically territorial entities.

"In strong contrast to the North Arabian practice of recording long lists of ancestors
(attested also for the pre-Islamic period in the Safaitic inscriptions), E[pigraphic]
S[outh] A[rabian] nomenclature consisted simply of given-name plus name of the
social grouping (usually the bayt), with optional insertion of the father's given-name,
but never any mention of an ancestor in any higher degree. One is irresistibly re-
minded of the remark attributed to the caliph `Umar, `Learn your genealogies, and be
not like the Nabataeans of Mesopotamia who, when asked who they are, say <<I am
from such-and-such a village>>,' which Ibn Khaldun quotes with the very significant
comment that it is true also of the populations of the fertile tracts of Arabia... [The]
qabila... [is] fundamentally kinship-based and totally different in nature from the
sha`b...In the Qur'an (49:13) ja`alnakum shu`uban wa-qaba'ila clearly refers to two
different types of social organization, and Ibn Khaldun when speaking of the settled
populations of Arabia is careful to use the word shu`ub and not qaba'il, reserving the
latter for the nomads" (Beeston 1972a:257-258; see also Id. 1972b:543; Ryckmans
1974:500; Robin 1982a v.I; 1982b; Piotrovskiy 1985:53, 69; Korotayev 1991 &c).

In the Early Islamic age under the influence of the North Arabian
tribal culture which acquired the highest prestige in the Muslim World
many South Arabian sha`bs, while remaining essentially territorial (Dresch

1
Whereas the political instability characteristic for South Arabia during most of the 2nd
millennium helped them to preserve this high status. On the other hand, the Northern
tribal population seems to have contributed significantly to the perpetuation of this
political instability.
387
1989; Serjeant 1989:XI), were transformed into qaba'il, tribes structured
formally according to genealogical principles.1 In its turn this transforma-
tion was the result of the intense work by the South Arabians aimed at the
working out of their own genealogies, as well as their passionate (and quite
successful) struggle for the recognition of their genealogies by the Arab
World (and for integration in this way into the Arab ethnos dominant
within the Early Islamic state [the 7th - the middle of the 8th centuries AD]
in quite high positions - Piotrovskiy 1977; 1985). One should not of course
forget that the Yemenis managed to achieve very successfully something
which almost nobody else did:

"With the conquests, the Arabs found themselves in charge of a huge non-Arab
population. Given that it was non-Muslim, this population could be awarded a status
similar to that of clients in Arabia, retaining its own organization under Arab control
in return for the payment of taxes... But converts posed a novel problem in that, on
the one hand they had to be incorporated, not merely accomodated, within Arab soci-
ety; and on the other hand, they had `forgotten their genealogies',2 suffered defeat

1
It should be mentioned that the "qabilization" of some Sabaean sha`bs seems to have
begun already before the Islamic Age. Here the most remarkable is the inscription Fa
74, dated (lines 6-12) to the month dhu-Madhra'an of year 614 of the Himyarite era,
which corresponds to July AD 499, or 504 (depending on the solution of the problem of
the beginning of the Himyarite era - for the current state of this question see de Blois
1990; Shahid 1994). On its line 6 SB' KHLN is denoted as `s2rt. It should be mentioned
that SB' KHLN was the "central" sha`b of the Sabaean cultural-political area (the
temple-civil community of its capital, Marib), which already in the Middle Period (the
1st-4th centuries AD) had a very special socio-political organization, quite different
from the one of the other Sabaean sha`bs (Loundine 1973a; b; Lundin 1969; 1984;
Korotayev 1994d &c), but consistently denoted during this Period only as s2`b, and
never `s2rt (Ja 653, 1; 735, 1; Sh 7/1; 8/1 ї Γ.с.); whereas the term `s2rt (corresponding
to the Arabic denomination of clan-tribal groups [of a certain level], `ashirah) was used
in the Sabaic inscriptions to denote the Arabic "genealogical" qaba'il as distinct from
the South Arabian territorial sha`bs (Beeston 1972a:257-258; 1972b:543; Ryckmans
1974:500; Piotrovskiy 1985:53, 69 &c). It should be mentioned, that the sha`bs of the
internal Lowlands might have been not so absolutely "anti-genealogical" as the
Highland sha`bs long before Islam (Robin 1979; 1982b). In addition to that the fact the
sha`b Saba' Kahlan was one of the first to be affected by the process of "qabilization",
might be also explained by the point that M_rib is situated on the edge of the internal
desert, i.e. in one of the South Arabian zones subjected in the 1st millennium A.D. to
the most intensive infiltration of the Arabs. It should be also stressed that there is some
direct evidence for the integration of a certain number of the Arabs into the sha`b Saba'
in the 6th century AD. E.g. Ry 507 (July AD 518 or 523 - line 10) mentions certain
TMMM bn M`DN d-QSMLT SB'YN, "Tamim, the son of Ma`dan, of Qasmalat, the
Sabaean" (line 12). As has been convincingly shown by Piotrovskiy (1985:54-57), this
Tamim is of Arab origins from the bedouin tribe Qasmalah (=al-Qasamil) known in the
area of Najran; whereas SB'YN is nothing else but a very clear denomination of one's
affiliation to the sha`b Saba' (Beeston 1978:14).
2
The emphasis is mine. This is simply to draw attention again to the important role of the
possession of valid genealogies for one's integration in the Early Islamic society as its
full-right member - A.K.
388
and frequently also enslavement, so that they did not make acceptable halifs; the only
non-Arabs to be affiliated as such were the Hamr_' and As_wira, Persian soldiers
who deserted to the Arabs during the wars of conquest in return for privileged
status... It was in response to this novel problem that Islamic wala' [i.e. the system of
integration of the non-Arab Muslims into the Islamic society in capacity of the de-
pendent mawali - A.K.] was evolved" (Crone 1991:875).

In any case it is a bit amazing that such a highly-qualified specialist


in early Islamic history as Crone has managed to overlook another (and
much more important!) exception - the Yemenis (most of whom do not
seem to have belonged to the Arab proto-ethnos by the beginning of the 7th
century AD). The possible explanation here might be that the Yemeni ef-
forts aimed at persuading the Arabs that the South Arabians were as Arab
as the Arabs themselves,1 or even more Arab than the Arabs (al-`arab al-
`aribah as distinct from al-`arab al-musta`ribah [e.g. Piotrovskiy 1985:67;
Shahid 1989:340-341; Robin 1991c:64 &c]), and that they had always been
Arabs, turned out to be so successful that they managed to persuade in this
not only themselves, not only the Arabs, but also the Arabists as well.
Notwithstanding all the difference between the Yemenis and the
above-mentioned groups of the Persian soldiers (it seems sufficient to men-
tion that the Yemen population was quite comparable by the 7th century
with the number of all the Arabs taken together), some similarity between
these two cases also appears to have existed. As in the case of the Persian
soldiers the Yemenis seem to have managed to enter early Islamic society
as full members very much because early Islamic society badly needed the
military manpower, whereas the Yemenis constituted a substantial part
(and sometimes even majority) of most Islamic armies.

"One reads that the warriors of [the early Islamic conquests] were northerners... It
now seems very doubtful that they were predominantly northerners, let alone exclu-
sively so, for the manpower required for such speedy and vigorous military cam-
paigns was to be found only in the Yemen. The Yemen of the 1st/7th century, like
the Yemen of today, was the only area of the Arabian Peninsula of sufficient popula-
tion density to provide large numbers of troops. What is more, we are not simply
talking of the other ranks. The presence of vast numbers, often in the majority, of
Yemenis participating in the great Islamic conquests of the 1st/7th century in pre-
dominantly tribal companies from the highest to the lowest rank is amply attested
and, what is more, they were seasoned fighters, not in any way raw recruits. It fol-
lows also that great numbers of those Yemenis participating in the conquests settled

1
And these efforts were by no means senseless, as some Arabs for some time refused to
recognize the Arab identity of the Yemenis (e.g. Piotrovskiy 1985:67).
389
in the territories which they helped to conquer" (Smith 1990, 134; a detailed fac-
tological substantiation for this statement can be found in al-Mad`aj 1988:69-70, 86-
88, 123-125, 127, 132, 140-143).

While remaining a realist, one naturally has to suppose that the


Yemenis managed to enter the Islamic society (and the Arab ethnos) so
smoothly as its full members (and not like dependent mawali) not because
the genealogies which they worked out looked so convincing, but mainly
because of the very important role of the Yemenis in the Islamic con-
quests.1 It rather seems that because of the very important role of the Yem-
eni manpower the Arabs allowed themselves to be persuaded that their fel-
lows in the jihad were as Arab as they were (and, consequently, that the
Yemenis' genealogies were as authentic as their own). To insist on the non-
Arab identity of the Yemenis, on the invalidity of their genealogies would
have led to the alienation of a very strong military power, whereas none of
the fiercely confronting each other Arab factions of early Islamic society
could afford such a "luxury".
As a result, the main mass of the agricultural population of the
Northern Highlands found themselves in possession of deep, ancient (and
quite veritable even from the point of view of the Northern Arabs) gene-
alogies, which provided quite a strong "ideological" basis for the struggle
by this population for the preservation of their high social status. The "ge-
nealogical ideology" (the representation of the tribes and their confedera-
tions as descendants of certain eponym ancestors tied by kinship relations)
turned out to provide also a suitable basis for the development of the tribal
political culture, assisting in the working out of the mechanisms of flexible
interaction of the tribal entities of various levels.
On the other hand, as a result of the considerable decline of the state
structures2 in the Northern Highlands after a relatively short period of their
consolidation at the beginning of the Islamic age, the population of the area
confronted the necessity to defend themselves by themselves. To a certain
extent the genesis of the tribal organization (for which there were already
1
Of course, one should not also forget here such important factors as the basic cultural
(including linguistic) proximity of the Arabs and Yemenis, the intensive contacts
between the South Arabian civilization and the Northern Arabs during all the time of its
existence, a significant degree of the arabization of Yemen prior to Islam (due to
infiltration to the area of considerable groups of Arabs) &c.
2
As well as the political systems of the chiefdoms.
390
certain pre-conditions in the area) can be considered as the Highlanders' re-
sponse to this challenge. The tribal organization, having been formed,
turned out to be so effective in many respects, that until the most recent
time it resisted quite successfully all the attempts by the state systems
(which periodically strengthened in South Arabia) to eradicate (or signifi-
cantly weaken) it.
In the Islamic age the main result of the interaction of the tribal and
state organization in the Northern Highlands turned out to be not the un-
dermining or liquidation of the tribal structures, but the emergence of the
North Yemen multipolity. Within this multipolity, though the relations be-
tween its state centre (headed most of this millennium by Zaydi imams)1
and its tribal periphery were far from being without conflicts, certain equi-
librium was achieved, the functions of the system elements were (quite in-
formally) delimited, reciprocally (to a certain extent) acceptable "rules of
game" were worked out.
A significant role in the preservation of the North Yemeni tribal or-
ganization was, no doubt, played by the geographical environment of the
Northern Highlands. On the one hand, the very rugged terrain of the area
helped significantly the tribes in their struggle for the preservation of their
autonomy (cp.Korotayev 1995d). On the other hand, the limited economic
potential of the meagre and arid North-East Highlands2 did not create suffi-
cient stimuli which would push the state centres to struggle with an ade-
quate vigour for the complete subjugation of the area to the full state con-
trol. The same factors also hindered the processes of the internal stratifica-
tion of the Northern tribes (e.g. Dresch 1984b:156; 1989:8-15). The trans-
formation of the warlike, armed and independent tribesmen into the mass
of obedient peasants, submissive tax-payers demanded tremendous effort
and expenses on the part of the states, whereas promising very limited eco-
nomic yields. The much more humid and fertile Southern Highlands (with

1
It should be mentioned that this state centre originated with the direct support of the
Northern tribes (e.g. Obermeyer 1982; Gochenour 1984b; Dresch 1989:167-173; Abu
Ghanim 1990).
2
The main exception here, the San`a' Plain, seems to belong firmly to those very
exceptions which only confirm the rule, as this was precisely San`a' which served as the
main stronghold of the state organization in the Northern Highlands for most of the last
two millennia (e.g. Serjeant, Lewcock 1983; Lundin 1988).
391
a significantly less rugged terrain) were much more attractive in this re-
spect.1
Thus, the tribal organization seems to have matched rather well the
Northern Highland ecological milieu, as it objectively protected a very
fragile and vulnerable economic-ecological environment of the area from
overexploitation through the procurement of a very "economical" produc-
tion of surplus by preventing the excessive taxation (and exploitation in
general) of the agriculturalists,2 precluding any exorbitant growth of the
parasitic or prestige elite consumption, while permitting the existence of
quite a developed and complex society. It is even difficult to avoid an im-
pression that the tribal organization was almost the only political form
which in the pre-industrial world could secure the sustainable reproduction
of complex highly-organized social systems in the extremely meagre and
vulnerable economic-ecological environment of the North-East Yemeni
Highlands. As Dresch notices, "the land of Hashid and Bakil would provide
a poor economic basis for any elaborate exploitative class" (Dresch
1984b:156; see also 1989:8-15). I would even say that in the pre-industrial
age the socio-economic system of the area was to be freed from "any elabo-
rate exploitative class" (which would have made the North Highland agri-
culturalists produce excessive surplus undermining the vulnerable envi-
ronment) in order to become sustainable.
It seems reasonable to consider the tribe as the chiefdom alternative3
rather than a "pre-chiefdom"4 form of political organization (whereas in
some respects the tribe of the North Yemeni type appears to be an even

1
E.g. Stookey explains the absence of any serious attempts to subjugate the Northern
tribes on the part of the Rasulid state (the 12th-15th centuries) in the following way:
"The Rasulids were not militant proselytizers by temperament, and chose to maximize
their secular satisfactions within the productive areas they could handily govern, rather
than to dissipate their energies in an apocalyptic struggle for control of territory which
had little to offer in the way of potential revenue" (Stookey 1978:124).
2
According to Zaydi doctrine the harvest taxation must not have exceeded rather modest
5-10% (depending on the type of the land - e.g. Stookey 1978:88), and the Northern
tribes managed to secure the level of taxation not exceeding these figures for most of
this millennium. The almost complete absence of any significant exploitation within the
tribe (e.g. Dresch 1984b:156; 1989:276-319; 1991:254) seems to be here of no less
importance.
3
Whereas in certain respects (as this has already been mentioned above) the tribe seems
to be an even more developed political form than the chiefdom.
4
Or even "pre-state" one. Quite agreeing with Fried I would rather consider it as a "para-
state" form of political organization.
392
more developped form of political organization than the chiefdom). And in
any case there does not seem to be any ground to consider as "primitive"
the tribal organization of the Islamic Middle East, which (like the Middle
Eastern states) formed as a result of long "post-primitive" evolution as a
specific (and quite effective) version of socio-political adaptation of some
quite highly developed regional populations to certain natural and socio-
historical environment.

"As for tribalism, every educated person should be aware that large-scale societies
have organised themselves for centuries without the complex apparatus of govern-
ment and administration we usually take for granted. Our usual theories of society
and the state, whether drawn from Hobbes or Rousseau or whomever, are therefore
partial, and on this score there is something tribalism of the kind found in Yemen
might teach nearly all of us - lessons in political philosophy" (Dresch 1994:65-66).

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS. My deepest gratitude goes to Professor


G.Rex Smith (Manchester University) for his help with the preparation of
the English version of this text. Due to the technical reasons the diacritic
signs are not reproduced in the text of this publication.

SIGLA OF THE INSCRIPTIONS CITED


The system of epigraphic sigla used in the present paper is based on the ones proposed
by Avanzini (1977) and Beeston et al. (1982).
C = CIH - Corpus 1889-1908, 1911, 1929
Fa = Inscriptions discovered by A.Fakhry - Fakhry[, Ryckmans] 1952; Mueller 1976
Ga = Garbini 1970; 1973 a; b
R = RES - Repertoire 1929; 1935; 1950
Robin = 1982a, vol.2
Ry = G.Ryckmans 1953; 1956; 1957

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399
22

THE SOCIETY OF RAYBŪN*

Serguei A. Frantsouzoff

In European research literature the earliest mention of this site situ-


ated in the mouth of the wādī Daw'an in the territory of Hadramawt, of the
autonomous historical and cultural region of South Arabia, occurred in the
itinerary notes of the Baron Adolph von Wrede who traveled through
Western Hadramawt in summer of 1843, but did not visit Raybūn himself.
Only after half a century, on the 13th July 1893 were these ruins observed
for the first time by a European traveler, Leo Hirsch. Some months later, on
December of the same year, he was followed by the Bent couple. From the
thirties Raybūn has been regularly visited by Western explorers, among
whom D. van der Meulen and H. von Wissmann (in 1931), Freya Stark (in
1935), Gertrude Caton-Thompson, chief of the British archaeological ex-
pedition which excavated the site of Hurayda (in 1937-1938),
A.F.L.Beeston (in 1959), G.Lankester Harding (in 1959-1960), members of
G.W. van Beek's expedition (in 1961-1962) and of the French archaeologi-
cal mission (in 1978-1979) are worth noting in particular (see in detail Gri-
aznevich 1996:7-12). But systematic archaeological explorations at the site
of Raybūn were undertaken only in 1983, when the Soviet Yemenite Joint
Complex Expedition (SOYCE) began its field work. During nine cam-
paigns, the last of which was completed in 1991, members of the SOYCE

*
This article is a concise version of my paper delivered on the 7th May 1996 at the sec-
tion Genesis of polities and alternatives to state in world history in the course of the
annual readings in memory of D.A.Olderogge ("Africa: societies, cultures, lan-
guages") held at the Peter the Great Museum of Anthropology and Ethnography
(Kunstkammer) of the Russian Academy of Sciences. It has been prepared thanks to
the financial support of the Russian Foundation of Humanities (project no. 96-01-
00051 Power and Reforms in the Countries of the Orient) and contains some prelimi-
nary results obtained during the study of political structure of South Arabian society
in the 1st millenium B.C. to the 1st millenium A.D.
400
archaeological group excavated four temples, two dwelling houses and
several necropolises. They discovered more than 2700 inscriptions com-
piled in the epigraphic Hadramitic language. Although the overwhelming
majority of inscribed slabs are represented by tiny fragments, which often
bear only a part of character, the researchers have now at their disposal
dozens of rather larger fragmentary or even complete texts the interpreta-
tion of which provides unique information not only on their grammar and
onomasticon, but also about some peculiarities of the cult, social structure
and mode of life inherent in ancient inhabitants of inland Hadramawt.1
Preliminary analysis of the epigraphic materials, along with due re-
gard for archaeological data, demonstrates that ancient Raybūn exceeded
the limits of what could be described as a settlement, even a considerable
one. It can be described as a complex of temples, agricultural farms and ne-
cropolises spread over a large oasis which occupied more than 15 square
kilometers in area (a short description of archaeological objects, which
constitute the complex of Raybūn, is given in: Sedov 1996: 1996). For in-
stance, in the inscription SOYCE 2075 = Rb XIV/89 no. 221, l. 3,6-72
dated from circa the 6th century B.C. the names of two settlements situated
on the territory of Raybūn have been discovered, namely Yandad (YNDD)
and Matar-hān (MTR-hn). In all probability, they are to be localized at the
place of the sites Raybūn I and Raybūn II. The toponym Raybūn is also
rather old. It was attested for the first time in the text SOYCE 2568 = Rb
XIV/90 no. 253 compiled at the same period as SOYCE 2075. Even then it
appeared to denote the ensemble of religious buildings, dwelling houses
and burial- grounds, which have been attributed by researchers to the ar-
chaeological complex of Raybūn, and not a concrete settlement or temple

1
This name is applied to the territory of the wādī Hadramawt and of its tributaries. Be-
sides inland Hadramawt the historical and cultural region of Hadramawt includes
other separate areas among which we are to reckon the Hadrami coast with the an-
cient port of Qana' and the district of the capital of the kingdom of Hadramawt, i.e. of
Shabwa situated approximately at one hundred kilometers' distance westwards from
the upper reaches of the wādī Hadramawt.
2
The members of SOYCE used two systems for the designation of inscriptions from
Raybūn: the epigraphic system based on the continuous numeration of all the revealed
texts, which unfortunately was not always employed in strict sequence, and the ar-
chaeological one that seems to be more complicated, but in return gives an opportunity
to determine the site, in which the inscription originates, as well as the year of its dis-
covery (Frantsouzoff 1995:23, n.3).
401
in the lower reaches of the wādī Daw'an.1 It was a considerable religious
centre whose influence had been exerted over inland Hadramawt or at least
over its western part. Among the temples situated at Raybūn only four have
been excavated:
• Hadrān, where the goddess 'Athtarum/'Aśtarum was worshipped (Ray-
būn I, building 1);
• two sanctuaries of the goddess Dhāt Himyam, namely Rahbān (Raybūn
I, buildings 2-4) and Kafas/Na'mān (Raybūn V);
• Mayfa'ān, temple of the god Sīn2 (Raybūn XIV).3
There are no proofs that Raybūn as well as the whole inland Had-
ramawt was under the power of Hadramī rulers. The short commemorative
inscription of the 7th century B.C. offered by Yada''ab [Gha]yl[ān], son of
Sumhuriyām, mukarrib4 of Hadramawt, on two sides of the stone prism put
over the statue of an ibex kept in the Museum of al-Mukalla' (Bauer
1995:140, fig. 23a-b) does not contradict this conclusion. First of all, the
provenance of this inscribed artifact from the site of Hurayda (ancient
Madhābum) is not confirmed for sure. Besides that, the mukarrib could
dedicate a statue to the temple of the god Sīn, whom he worshipped, even
in that case, if it was located beyond the borders of the territory taken under
the control of Hadramī rulers. It should be noted that in South Arabian ep-
igraphy, inland Hadramawt had never been designated by the toponyms
HDRMT or HDRMWT.5 The Sabaeans and the Himyarites usually called it

1
This continuity of toponymy is typical for Yemen.
2
It should be taken into account that the spelling Sīn is conventional. Possible versions
of the pronunciation of this deity's name have been examined in: Frantsouzoff
1994:321, n.2.
3
In the course of SOYCE field work the archaeologists didn't succeed in excavating
all the sanctuaries of ancient Raybūn. For example, in the vicinity of the modern vil-
lage of al-Mashhad (site Raybūn XIX) there was, in all probability, one more temple
of Sīn whose dimensions are estimated at the same extent as those of:Sedov 1996:26).
4
In early South Arabian states there were two categories of supreme magistrates,
namely mukarribs and maliks (or 'kings'). Sometimes both positions were combined
by the same ruler. The difference between the functions of mukarribs and maliks was
perfectly demonstrated on the basis of Sabaean materials by A.G.Lundin (1971:190-
203).
5
In the inscription SOYCE 2245 = Rb I/90 no. 81, l.4 dated from the 2nd to the 1st cen-
turies B.C. the word <H>DRM[T?] is mentioned, but because of the fragmentary na-
ture of this text it is impossible to establish, what area is implied exactly. In all prob-
ability, this name denoted the state of Hadramawt whose war with Qatabān unleased
at that time proved to be fatal for Raybūn (see below).
402
Sarīrān (S1RR-n), i.e. the "Valley".1 The modern geographical name of the
wādī Hadramawt was brought into use only in the Muslim epoch.
As to the personal name YD''[?] (Yada''il or Yada''ab) extant in the
fragmentary text of the 7th century B.C. - SOYCE 515 = Rb I/83 bld.1, I
lev. no. 724 + II lev. no. 216 originated in Hadrān, temple of the goddess
'Athtarum, it was not necessarily borne by a ruler in spite of G.M.Bauer's
opinion. Both names, whose restoration is possible, occurred almost exclu-
sively among mukarribs and maliks of Hadramawt.2 But the available ma-
terial is too scanty to draw a conclusion that the rulers' names in this an-
cient state were taboo, like those of Sabaean mukarribs (about the tabooing
of mukarribs' names in the state of Saba' see: Lundin 1971:183-184). Even
if we assume that the proper nouns Yada''il and Yada''ab were really for-
bidden at that epoch for the common people of Hadramawt, the author of
SOYCE 515 should not be recognized without reserve as a ruler, since
YD''[?] could be a fragment of a patronymic, as in the text Shabwa 15 bis
compiled by Gawbān, son of Yada'[']il who apparently was neither mukar-
rib nor malik.
The epigraphic sources have revealed no direct or indirect data giv-
ing evidence that the officials, who represented the central authority of the
state of Hadramawt, resided at Raybūn, though in the above-named text
SOYCE 2568 'Alāhumuw, qayn of Raybūn, was mentioned. This term is
usually translated as "official of administration", "administrator" or even
"minister" (Beeston et al. 1982:112; Ricks 1989:146; Arbach 1993, I:74).
But what administration is here implied? According to the texts Haram 5,4-
5, 12,4-6 and Kamna 9,1, 10, 3-4 originated in ancient cities of al-Djawf,
the qayn was in the service of rulers of small states of this region who bore
the title of malik ("king" or rather "kinglet"). But the context of Haram
11,2-5 demonstrates that the qayn could occupy at the same time the posts
of king's functionary, deities' servant and city's magistrate which in princi-

1
See, e.g., Ja 668, 10-11 ("and from all the cities of Sarīrān" - w-bn/kl/hgr S1RR-n) and
Ir 32, 37-38 ("all the cities of Hadramawt and Sarīrān" - kl/hgr/H-D-RMWT/w-S1RR-
n). In the last case Hadramawt is apparently set off against Sarīrān as another area
which embraced the territories included earlier in the kingdom of Hadramawt.
2
The inscription Ir 32, 47 dated from the beginning of the 4th century A.D. mentions a
certain Yada''il or Yada''ab (YD'['L/B]) from the tribe of Saybān, who obviously was
neither mukarrib nor malik of Hadramawt. However, during that period, in view of
the decline and fall of the state of Hadramawt, the strict traditions, which had regu-
lated the use of personal names, were probably no longer observed.
403
ple were divided. For instance, the Sabaic inscription from Marib mention,
on the one hand, the "qayn of the god Almaqah at (the temple) Awwām"
(qyn/'LMQH/b-'WM - Ja 554), "two qayns of (the deities) Hawbas and Al-
maqah" (qyny/HWBS1/w-'LMQH - Ja 556), on the other hand, "qayn of (two
maliks or mukarribs) Yada''il Bayyin and Sumhu['alay] Yanuf"
(qyn/YD''L/BYN/w-S1MH['LY/]YNF - Ja 552,1-2) and finally "six qayns of
(the city of) Sirwāh?" (s1t/'qyn/S RWH - Gl 1533,2). The last of these texts
shows that the qayn was not the city's ruler, as some scholars thought (see,
e.g., Biella 1982:454), but occupied a position of one of the city's magis-
trates only.1 The inscription Ja 555 is of special importance for us, since its
author, who attended the functions of qayn under five Sabaean rulers, be-
came also the qayn of Marib. It was the god Almaqah himself and not any-
body among those rulers who appointed him at this position (t'bh-
hw/qyn/MRYB - Ja 555,3) probably by means of an oracle. Thus the men-
tion of the qayn of Raybūn cannot be considered as a decisive argument in
favour of the submission of this religious centre to Shabwa or to another
supreme authority.
In two inscriptions from the temple Mayfa'a\n the title of the kabīr of
Raybūn is restored with certainty:
SOYCE 1169 = Rb XIV/87 no. 42,2 - [k]br/RY[B-n];
Rb XIV/91 № 47 - 1. F'R-n[/bn/...]
2. kbr/R[YB-n]
One more text from the same sanctuary mentions the "community of
Raybūn" (s2rk/RYB[-n] - SOYCE 1184 = Rb XIV/87 no. 65). Thus an ap-
parent parallel is to be drawn with the social organization of the ancient
city of Madhābum (the site of Hurayda) also situated in the western part of
inland Hadramawt. According to the texts CT 4 & 10 Madhābum was in-
habited by the community of Ramay (s2rk/RMY) headed by the kabīr of
Ramay. It is obvious that the kabīr of Raybūn attended a similar function.
But his appointment too was not sanctioned by the central power of the
state of Hadramawt! The fragmentary inscription Raybūn 6 discovered by
the French archaeological mission, in which the reference to the "war of
Qatabān" (dr/QTB-n) occurs, mentions Fa'rān, who seems to be identified
1
If we accept the interpretation of A.F.L.Beeston, who translated 'ly/s1t/'qyn in Gl
1533,2 as "those having the same authority as the qayns" (Beeston 1976:413), this
conclusion will still remain valid, since in any case this context proves that there were

404
with his namesake attested in Rb XIV/91 no. 47, since both texts go back to
the same paleographic period dated from the 2nd to the 1st centuries B.C. A
passage from Raybūn 6,2 runs as follows:
...w-ys1kbr/F'R-n/S1YN/… - "… and Sīn appointed Fa'rān as a kabīr".1
This practice resembles very much the above-mentioned appoint-
ment of the qayn of Marib in accordance with Almaqah's will in the Old
Sabaean state. The lack of any mention of lignages' names in the texts of
Raybūn shows that in this society the hereditary nobility of clans has not
yet formed.2 In spite of all this the social structure of ancient Raybūn was
not primitive at all. For instance, the text SOYCE 2075, 6-8 informs of
'b'l/YNDD/w-MTR-hn, hwr/QDT-hn and bkl-s1m. The meaning of the term
'b'l (literally "masters") attested also in Sabaic (Beeston et al. 1982:25) and
Qatabanic (Ricks 1989:31)3 proved to be established with certainty: "full
and equal members of lignage or community" (the corresponding contexts
are cited in: Avanzini 1977-1980, II:130-131). The centre of such a com-
munity was often a large settlement designated with the term hgr and con-
sidered a city. Therefore with due regard for expressions like 'b'l/hgr the
sense of the term 'b'l has sometimes been narrowed and it has been trans-
lated as "citizens, members of city's community" (see, e.g., Lundin
1973:28; Beeston et al. 1982:25). But no agricultural settlement discovered
at Raybūn can be identified as a city. The situation described in Ir 32,5-7
was quite different: 'b'l/S W'R-n, 'b'l/S2BM, 'b'l/TRM mentioned in it proved
to be members of the urban communities of S-uwa'rān, Shibām, Tarīm in
inland Hadramawt. If before the discovery of SOYCE 2075 it was possible
to assume that the author of the Sabaic text Ir 32 had recourse to the vo-
cabulary of his own Sabaic language for rendering the social structure of
the Hadramī society, it would be obvious now that the term 'b'l was used by
the indigenous population of Hadramawt for at least a millenium.
The term h-wr, which means "settlers, inhabitants of city, immi-

several qayns of Sirwāh.


1
The translation proposed by Chr.J.Robin, who published this inscription ("…et Fa'rân
reconnut la grandeur de Sayin…"), in our opinion must be reconsidered with due re-
gard for epigraphic materials collected by SOYCE.
2
At the same time the representatives of some professions, e.g. stone-masons, who
hewed inscriptions, enjoyed a considerable social prestige (see Frantsouzoff 1999).
3
In spite of M.Arbach's statement (1993, I:19) there are no good reasons to think that
'b'l is attested in Minaic. The monogram he read in such a way seems to be inter-
preted as Labu'ān (MAFRAY - as-Sawdā' 19 A-B = as-Sawdā' 43, 44).
405
grants", is attested in all the epigraphic languages of South Arabia (Beeston
et al. 1982:73; Arbach 1993, I:50; Ricks 1989:62), including Hadramitic
(Khor Rori 1,2, 3,2). However, the question arises, if the expression
hwr/QDT-hn should be interpreted either as "immigrants settled down in
Qudhat-hān" by analogy with hwrw/hgr-n/'MR-n (CIH 102,4) or as "immi-
grants from Qudhat-hān" on the basis of the contexts of the Khor Rori in-
scriptions whose authors, in giving an account of their participation in the
foundation of the city of Sumhurām (Sumurām) in the land of Sa'kalān (this
area colonized by the Hadramīs in the 1st century B.C. to the 1st century
A.D. is to be localized on the territory of modern Dhofar) indicated their
affiliation with the "immigrants from Shabwa" (Khor Rori 1,2:
bn/hwr/hgr-hn/S2BWT; Khor Rori 3,2: bn/hwr/S2BWT).1 By chance the lo-
calization of Qudhat-hān at the place of the modern village of al-Quza situ-
ated in the wādī al-Ghabr is beyond doubt.2 The distance between Raybūn
and al-Quza is equal in a straight line to 11 kilometres and following the
course of the wādī to 13-14 kilometres (see Rodionov 1994: map 2).
Meanwhile, from the contents of SOYCE 2075 it follows that hwr/QDT-hn
were coming to Yandad to obtain well-water. With due regard for the dis-
tance between Raybūn and al-Quza it is difficult to conclude that those
immigrants inhabited Qudhat-hān. Therefore, just as in the case of
hwr/(hgr-hn/)S2BWT, the expression hwr/QDT-hn denotes a group of im-
migrants who left the ancient village of al-Quza and settled in Raybūn.
In the expression bkl-s1m the suffix pronoun -s1m obviously relates
to hwr/QDT-hn. Thus bkl of the immigrants from Qudhat-hān are here im-
plied. The meaning of this term attested earlier in all the epigraphic South

1
These are immigrants and not simply inhabitants of (the city of) Shabwa who are here
implied. That conclusion is based on the context of Khor Rori 3,5-7, where both au-
thors mention "their lord" (mr'-s1mn) Abyatha', son of Dhamar'alay, who "settled with
him" (hwr/'m-s1) three groups of immigrants designated with the enigmatic term 'hty-
m.
2
The Arabic toponym al-Quza would be a full equivalent of the Hadramitic QDT-hn, if
we take into account that in Hadramitic [z] was rendered with the character d and -hn
was a definite article. The people inhabited the territory of al-Quza as far back as the
palaeolithic. The existence of an ancient South Arabian settlement there has been
confirmed by the discovery of some strongly damaged inscriptions on a stone in the
gorge of al-Quza in the course of the SOYCE field work. Unfortunately when M. A.
Rodionov referred to the above-mentioned text SOYCE 2075, he erroneously re-
marked that the toponym al-Quza had been attested in it in the form of al-Qudat
(Rodionov 1994:46). The description of modern al-Quza is given in: Povionov
1994:117-118, fig. 78-79.
406
Arabian languages, except Hadramitic, still remains obscure. In the dic-
tionaries bkl was interpreted either as "inhabitants of conquered territory,
subjects" (Biella 1982:42) in accordance with the opinion of the patriarch
of Sabaean Studies N.Rhodokanakis (1917:128) or in a more neutral man-
ner as "dependents, subjects, residents" (Ricks 1989:25-26; Arbach 1993,
I:20) or even as "settlers, colonists, inhabitants" (Beeston et al. 1982:28). In
the last case the difference between bkl and hwr is not clear, since for both
terms, which apparently didn't coincide, almost the same interpretation was
proposed (Beeston et al. 1982:28, 73).1 The supposition of G.M.Bauer
seems to be the most convincing and well-founded. This scholar has dem-
onstrated that the term bkl was applied to those people who settled in the
land belonging to the state or to the king, were occupied for the most part
with trade and handicraft, broke the links with their tribe, probably de-
pended on the central power and thus to some extent resembled mushkenum
of ancient Babylon (1965:313-320). But this definition does not corespond
well to our case, since, as we have already established, no traces of the
submission of Raybūn to the kingdom of Hadramawt were revealed in local
epigraphic documentation. It is possible to suppose that the original sense
of bkl was the following: "colonists who broke the links with their commu-
nity and settled in a new place". Like founders of ancient Greek colonies
hwr, according to Khor Rori 1 & 3, constituted a compact group of immi-
grants who separated from their native community, but maintained former
social relations between them.2 In contrast to them bkl, in all probability,
were immigrants who originated in different communities and to a certain
degree resembled µέτοκοι of ancient Greece.3 It is no mere chance that bkl
in SOYCE 2075 were mentioned as bkl of the immigrants of Qudhat-hān,
1
However, the term hwr, hwrw has been interpreted as "settler, immigrant, inhabitant of
town" (Beeston et al. 1982:73). But bkl also "are mentioned almost exclusively as ur-
ban population" (Bauer 1965:314).
2
It is the meaning of the term hwr in Hadramitic confirmed by contexts of inscriptions
that is here examined. Probably in other languages of ancient South Arabia its sense
was broader (see, e.g., Robin 1982, I:88).
3
Unlike µέτοκοι, bkl having settled down at a new place could constitute in due course
a new community (sha'b). That was the opinion of G.M.Bauer who argued that "set-
tling of various tribes' members in one city led under the conditions existing in an-
cient South Arabia… to the restoration of communal and tribal relations in those cit-
ies" (1965:317). In all probability, the name of s2'b-n/BKL-m attested in Sabaic in-
scriptions a lot of times (see the most important contexts in: Robin 1982, I:45-46) de-
rives from the term which designated a group of immigrants-bkl who originated in
different tribes and formed the kernel of this sha'b.
407
who obviously patronized them, and not as an independent group of popu-
lation. In the shortest and most exact way the term bkl can be defined as
"colonists-clients".
For lack of state institutions, the relations among people in the soci-
ety of Raybūn were entirely regulated by traditions whose principal keeper
proved to be the priesthood. Among the priests there was a considerable
number of women. In general at Raybūn the status of women, who dedi-
cated inscriptions on their behalf more frequently than in other areas of
South Arabia, was rather high and hence the problem of the so-called "Ara-
bian matriarchy" must be reconsidered. The priestesses proved to attend the
function of arbitrators in family conflicts which under certain circum-
stances had been considered religious problems. According to the inscrip-
tions SOYCE 705 = Rb I/84 bld. 3, I lev. no. 197 a-e and TSOYKE 706 =
Rb I/84 bld. 3, I lev. no. 198 a-f this part was played by Ilra'ad, priestess of
the temple Rahbān in the 2nd to the 1st centuries B.C. (Frantsouzoff 1997).
Another priestess of the same temple, Ilfa'al, participated in the reconstruc-
tion of the temple Rahbān and probably headed this action (SOYCE 1850 +
1866 = Rb I/89 bld. 4, I lev. no. 279 + 297 + 306 a-b). In accordance with
the fragmentary text SOYCE 2306 = Rb I/90 bld. 4 no. 143 the disregard of
Sharah'il towards "the orders that Ilfa'al gave him" (m'mrt/'mrt-s1/'LF'L - l.
2-3) caused the intervention of the goddess Dhāt Himyam.
It is interesting that neither at Raybūn nor at any other site of inland
Hadramawt dated from the 1st millenium B.C. can we find any traces of
fortifications (Griaznevich 1996:9-10). The conclusion is obvious: the type
of society which existed in this area in early antiquity up to the beginning
of the 1st millenium A.D. ignored wars, at least regular wars which form an
inalienable attribute of the foreign policy of early states. Thus in the case of
Raybūn we are dealing with an alternative to the state system, with a course
of development that led to the emergence of a highly organized culture, but
was not connected with the formation of political institutions separated
from the society itself. But this type of social organization could exist only
in relative isolation from the surrounding states, since it had no experince
of war and was doomed to failure once involved in the first serious conflict
with them. It seems that Raybūn situated not far from the oriental frontier
of the kingdom of Hadramawt succeeded in surviving during seven or eight
centuries mostly because of its sacred status and because of the unity of re-

408
ligious beliefs among the inhabitants of inland Hadramawt and of the areas
directly submitted to Hadramī rulers. The transition of South Arabia to the
so-called "Middle Sabaean" epoch, which was characterized by permanent
cruel wars, put an inevitable and prompt end to the society of Raybūn and
to its original social structure. In the course of a military conflict between
Hadramawt and Qatabān in the late 1st century B.C. to the early 1st century
A.D.1 the temples and settlements of Raybūn were destroyed and have
never been restored.

REFERENCES CITED
Arbach, M. 1993. Le madābien:Lexique – Onomastique et Grammaire d'une langue de
l'Arabie méridionale préislamique. Thèse de doctorat – Nouveau régime. T. I:
Lexique madābien. Aix-en-Provence: Université de Provence Aix Marseille I,
Centre d'Aix.
Avanzini, A. 1977, 1980. Glossaire des inscriptions de l'Arabie du Sud antique 1950–
1973. I–II. Firenze: Università di Firenze (Quaderni di Semitistica, 3).
Bauer, G.M. 1965. Nekotorye sotsialnye terminy v drevneiemenskikh tekstakh [Some
social terms in the ancient Jemen texts]. Semitskie iazuki 2/1: 313–35.
Bauer, G.M.1995. Epigraphica Raibuna (sesony 1983–1984 gg.). TSOYKE I: 112–52.
Beeston, A.F.L. 1976. Notes on Old South Arabian Lexicography X. Le Muséon 89:
407–423.
Beeston, A.F.L., M.A.Ghul, W.W.Müller & J.Ryckmans. 1982. Sabaic Dictionary
(English-French-Arabic). Louvaine-la-Neuve – Beyrouth: Peeters.
Biella, J. C. 1982. Dictionary of Old South Arabic, Sabaean Dialect. Chico, CA:
Scholars Press (Harvard Semitic Studies, 25).
Frantsouzoff, S.A. 1994. Tri legendy ob obrashchenii v islam hadramautskikh
iazychnikov [The three legends on the borrowing of Islam among the heathens
in the Hadramawt]. Petersburgskoe vostokovedenie 5: 306–332.
Frantsouzoff, S.A. 1995. The Inscriptions from the Temples of Dhāt Himyam at Ray-
būn. PSAS 25: 15–27, pl. I–II.
Frantsouzoff, S.A. 1997. Regulation of Conjugal Relations in Ancient Raybūn. PSAS
27: 113–127.
Frantsouzoff, S.A. 1999. La mention du "tailleur de pierre" (grbyhn/n) dans les inscrip-
tions sudarabiques. Raydān 7 (in press).
Griaznevich, P.A. 1996. Predislovie. TSOYKE II: 6–18.
IDIS, 1, 4: Inventaire des inscriptions sudarabiques. T. 1: Ch. Robin. Inabba', Haram,
al-Kāfir, Kamna et al-Harāshif. Fasc. A: Les documents. Fasc. B: Les planches.

1
In all probability, this war (or series of military conflicts) has been mentioned in RES
4932, Huwaydar A and Raybūn 6.
409
Paris: Boccard – Rome: Herder, 1992; Inventario delle iscrizioni sudarabiche.
T. 4: A. Avanzini As-Sawdā'. Parigi: Boccard – Roma: Herder, 1995.
Korotayev, A.V. 1993. Nekotorye obshchie tendentsii i faktory evolyutsii sabeyskogo
kul'turno-politicheskogo areala (Yuzhnaya Araviya: X v. do n.e. – IV v. n.e.)
[Some General Trends of Evolution of Sabaean Cultural-Political Area (South
Arabia: 10th Century B.C. – 4th Century A.D.)]. Rannie formy sotsial'noy stratifi-
katsii: genezis, istoricheskaya dinamika, potestarno-politicheskie funktsii. Pamyati
L.E.Kubbelya. Ed. by V. A. Popov. Moscow: 295–320.
Korotayev, A.V. 1995. Ancient Yemen. Some General Trends of Evolution of the Sa-
baic Language and the Sabaean Culture. Oxford – New York: Oxford Univer-
sity Press.
Korotayev, A. V. 1996. Pre-Islamic Yemen. Sociopolitical Organization of the Sabaean
Cultural Area in the 2nd and 3rd Centuries A.D. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Ver-
lag.
Lundin, A. G. 1971. Gosugarstvo mukarribov Saba [The Mukarribian state Saba].
Moscow: Nauka.
Lundin, A. G. 1973. Le régime citadin de l'Arabie du Sud aux IIe – IIIe siècles de notre
ère. PSAS [3]: 26–28.
Murtazin, M.F. 1995. O sotsialnoy structure drevnego hadrammutskogo goroda Masib.
TSOYKE I: 265–72.
PSAS: Proceedings of the Seminar for Arabian Studies, London: Seminar for Arabian
Studies.
Rhodokanakis, N. 1917. Studien zur Lexicographie und Grammatik des Altsüda-
rabischen, II. Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften
(SBAWW, 185. Bd, 3. Abh.).
Ricks, S. D. 1989. Lexicon of Inscriptional Qatabanian. Roma: E Pontificio Instituto
Biblico (Studia Pohl, 14).
Robin, Ch. 1982. Les Hautes-Terres du Nord-Yémen avant l'Islam. I–II. Istan-
bul: Nederlands historisch-archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul (Uitgaven van het
Nederlands historisch-archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul, L).
Rodionov, M.A. 1994. Etnographia Zapadnogo Hadramauta [The Ethnography of the
Western Hadramawt]. Moscow: Nauka.
SBAWW: Sitzungsberichte der philosophisch-historischen Klasse der Österreichischen
Akademie der Wissenschaften. Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der
Wissenschaften.
Sedov, A.V. 1996. Raibun – komplex archaeologicheskikh pamiatnikov v nizoviak
wadi Dau'an. TSOYKE, II: 19–30, table I–XXVI.
TSOYKE: Trudy Sovetsko-Iemenskoy complexnoy expeditsii [The reports of the So-
viet-Yemen expedition]. T. I. Hadramawt. Archeologicheskie, ethnographiches-
kie i istoriko-kulturnye issledovaniia. Moscow: Vostochnaia literatura, 1995:
Т. II: Gorodishche Raybūn. Moscow: Vostochnaia literatura, 1996

410
SIGLA OF THE INSCRIPTION CITED
CIH – Corpus inscriptionum semiticarum. Pars Quarta inscriptiones himyariticas et
sabaeas continens. T. I–III. Parisiis: Imprimerie nationale, 1889–1932.
CT 4, 10 – Caton Thompson, G. The Tombs and Moon Temple of Hureidha
(Hadhramaut). Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1944 (Report of the Research
Committee of the Society of Antiquaries of London, 13). Pt. VII: Epigraphy by
G. Ryckmans: 158–160, 162–163, pl. LXIII–LXIV; Murtazin 1995: 266–270.
Gl 1533 – Höfner, M., Sammlung Eduard Glaser VIII: Inschriften aus Sirwāh, Haulān
(I. Teil). Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1973
(SBAWW, 291. Bd. 1. Abh.): 29–35, pl. XI; Höfner, M., Sammlung Eduard
Glaser XII: Inschriften aus Sirwāh, Haulān (II. Teil) mit einem Anhang von
W. W. Müller. Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften,
1976 (SBAWW, 304. Bd, 5. Abh.): 39–40, Taf. V/1.
Haram 5, 11, 12 –IDIS 1, A: 69–70, 76–78.
Huwaidar A – Pirenne, J. Deux prospections historiques au Sud-Yémen. Raydān 4
(1981): 22–23, pl. XII.
Ir 32 = Schreyer-Geukens – Müller, W. W., Das Ende des antiken Königreichs Had-
ramaut. Die sabäische Inschrift Schreyer–Geukens = Iryani 32. Al-Hudhud.
Festschrift Maria Höfner zum 80. Geburtstag. Hrsg. von R.G.Stiegner. Graz:
Karl-Franzens-Universität, 1981: 225–256.
Ja 552, 554–556, 668 – Jamme, A., Sabaean Inscriptions from Mahram Bilqīs (Mārib).
Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1962 (Publications of the American
Foundation for the Study of Man, III): 16–17, 18–22, 173–174, pl. 3, 19.
Kamna 9, 10 – IDIS 1, A: 179–182, pl. 52, 53.
Khor Rori – Pirenne, J. The Incense Port of Moscha (Khor Rori) in Dhofar. Journal of
Oman Studies 1 (1975): 81–96, pl. I–IV; Beeston, A.F.L., The Settlement at
Khor Rori. Journal of Oman Studies 2 (1976): 39–42.
Raybūn 6 – Breton, J.-Fr. et al. Wādī Hadramawt. Prospections 1978–1979. Aden:
Markaz al-Athar, 1980: 104, pl. II.
RES – Répertoire d'Épigraphie sémitique. T. V–VII. Paris: Imprimerie nationale, 1929–
1950.
as-Sawda' 43, 44 – IDIS 4: 161–162.
Shabwa 15 bis – Pirenne J. Les témoins écrits de la région de Shabwa. Paris: Geuthner,
1990 (Fouilles de Shabwa, I; Institut Français d'archéologie du Proche-Orient.
Bibliothèque archéologique et historique, CXXXIV): 56, pl. 46 b (the photo-
graph is turned upside down).

411
23

STATE AND ADMINISTRATION IN KAUTILYA`S


"ARTHASHASTRA"

Dmitri N. Lelioukhine

In Indology, representation of the existence of a centralized state


with developed bureaucratic administration in Ancient India, was generated
at the beginning of the XX century through the research of Kautilya`s "Ar-
thashastra" (further KA). This unique treatise remains a major source for
the history of the state in Ancient India. The point of view reflected in this
treatise has significantly influenced interpretations of information from
other sources concerning Ancient and early Medieval Indian states, as well
as the formation of concepts of the historical development of the country.
The concept of the centralized, bureaucratic state, as part of our basic
understanding, was introduced to research on KA from the outside. It has
played an important role in the theoretical constructions of many schools of
historical thought. More often researchers, making use of appropriate inter-
pretations of the evidence from KA tried to prove that already in Ancient
India there was an advanced tradition of state organization of a European
type. They "searched" in KA for confirmation of the existence at this time
of a bureaucracy, parliament, departments etc. Aiming to reveal a state
structure, reflected in KA researchers usually tried to put in order the "offi-
cers" mentioned in the treatise, to reduce them in a system.1
1
There is a big complex of literature devoted to the problem of state in KA (see, for
example: Breloer 1936; Jayaswal 1955; Altekar 1973 etc.).
412
Usually these fruitless attempts brought to a free interpretation of the
source, a modernization of its information and terminology. Such tenden-
cies were supported, in a certain degree, by a common stereotype in scien-
tific researche on state. Indologists usually searched in this text for the re-
alities of a modern state that were well known to them, elements of integral
administrative structure separated from society, an ideal model of the uni-
tary state, advanced central state machinery (ministers, departments), forms
of state-wide taxation and the like. And usually the question of whether or
not those institutions existed in ancient Indian society was not discussed.
Taking into account R.Sh. Sharma’s objection to J. Heestermam’s point of
view concerning the level of development of ancient Indian state (Heester-
man 1985; Sharma 1991), it should be especially emphasized that the ab-
sence of similar institutions does not mean the Ancient Indian State was
undeveloped. Models of the state which are characteristic of recent times
cannot be used as criterion for determining the level of development of an
ancient state.
This conventional historiographic representation of the character of
the state thought to be reflected in KA began to be doubted only in the last
decades, particularly in work of J.C. Heesterman, R. Thapar, A.A. Vigasin
and the author of the present paper (Vigasin and Samozvantzev 1984;
Heesterman 1987; Stuchevskiy 1987; Lelioukhine 1992). Here I will call to
your attention a brief integration of several works devoted to interpreting
the evidences in KA concerning the state.
Speaking about KA it is important to take into account a particular
feature of this source. KA - is a treatise about a policy, theoretical exposi-
tion of state wisdom, and perceptions for any king. It is not a handbook on
policy, but also is not a utopia. The recommendations offered in the treatise
do not assume a concrete state, do not contain the analysis or generalization
of facts of a political history. "KA state" we understand as a theoretical, ab-
stract image created within the framework of a special Indian science "Ar-
thashastra", and results from the assimilation of previous experience. It had
no real prototype, did not actually exist, but has taken up many features of
states which really existed. Careful interpretation of a source, to a certain
extent isolated from evidence provided by other sources, leads to the repro-
duction of the abstract "KA state", principles and logic of its construction.
413
Using this method (Vigasin and Samozvantzev 1984:25) we shall try to ex-
amine the "Arthashastra" theory.
The problem of the reliability the evidence provided by KA for the
state is not considered in this report (for this requires answering questions
concerning the purpose of its writing, the principles used in selecting its
materials, and other matters). But it will assume a positive view, taking into
account a common context for information from other sources concerning
the state (especially epigraphy). The main difference of our point of view is
that on close inspection, it looks less like separate details than like an ab-
stract "KA state", with the principles and logic of its construction.
Detailed analysis of KA1 evidences demonstrates that what is absent
from the text is information about management of the activities of the offi-
cers and local authorities. Their appointment in many cases was more than
likely outside of the competence of king. The treatise designates only two
channels for the interrelation ruling bodies of different levels - the repre-
sentative of a lower level was obliged to transmit a portion of the income
(taxes, which he collected ), and the representative of a higher level had the
right "to punish" those who, because of limited competence, infringed (ac-
cording to the KA concept ) the order. And in a number of cases the func-
tions of the representatives of various levels of authority look essentially
similar.
So in KA 4.13.7-12 it is said that if merchants who had stopped for a
night in a village were robbered, they can receive compensation from the
"Master of a village". If the robbery took place in the pastures -from the
"supervisor of pastures", or if outside the area of pasture - from an officer
who is in charge of catching the thief. If none of these is present, an "asso-
ciation of 5-10 villages" pays. The possibility of compensating the losses of
a merchant’s caravan shows that those mentioned are people of means.
This responsibility follows from function of "protection" of territories and
population, which in Indian traditional representations is closely associated
with the collection of taxes, which are, in turn, interpreted as payment for
protection. It is worth remarking that two levels of a authority are here
marked, having apparently similar functions. The association of 5-10 vil-

1
All notes to KA text from R.P.Kangle (1969).
414
lages is obviously the structure of larger-scale among the two, and we
would not go wrong to assume that it also executed the collecting of taxes,
partly for its benefit.
It is of central importance that similar recommendations are con-
nected in KA with persons of considerably higher social status -- with the
"overseer of ships" (KA 2.28. 26), "keeper of borders" (2.21.25), and, also,
with king (1.13. 5-12,3.16.23-25).
We can see the nature of the mutual relations expressed in the KA II
recommendations through the example of the "adhyakshas". Their principal
function was maintenance the income treasury. The text outlines several
major ways of receiving this money, including the collecting taxes, the sum
of penalties and the use the "king's property " ( lands, mines, etc. ).
"Adhyakshas" passed on to the treasury a portion of their "income" as the
compensation for the right to realize a number of the king's prerogatives.
But it would be a mistake to consider them to be the department heads, or
to connect them together into a uniform administrative structure. Evidences
in KA concerning "adhyaksha`s activity" include the typical recommenda-
tions, concerned with the rights and responsibilities of many persons, act-
ing in different spheres. In KA - the limits of adhyaksha`s competence are
not designated (that is natural for the typical recommendations ), only in a
few cases can we guess within which territory this or that overseer acted
(for example, jeweler, overseer for textile).
It is impossible to consider "adhyakshas" as a special stratum, as rep-
resentatives of a defined administrative level because the circle of persons
designated by this name in the treatise is so wide - from the powerful
"overseer of ships", up to "adhyaksha" receiving day payments (KA 2.9.8),
their status looks too varied. Rather, the term "adhyaksha" could be used to
name various persons of status, who possessed authority, and mainly in
connection with performance by them of appropriate functions. A similar
artificial division is when one person is referred to, depending on context,
by a variety of terms. This is quite acceptable to a theoretical treatise.
If the official duties were reduced mainly to tax collecting, partly for
the benefit of the person who holds this "post", we have the right to con-
sider as the official every representative of nobility (for example, the
"chiefs" of cities, regions mentioned in KA), as well as dependent tributary
415
kings. Probably, therefore, in KA 7.11-12 we read about the agreements
"about exploiting" the lands, mines etc., and in KA 9.5.10-11 granting the
money. Exemptions and posts are considered measures for subduing "inner
enemies of the king".
It is on occasion possible to conclude that "officials" mentioned in
the second book of KA were those of very high status. The "Keeper of the
borders" executed protection of travel and trade, levied duties (or pay-
ments) for this purpose, and reimbursed losses, if they arose due to his fault
(KA 2.21.24-26) and appears to be a dependent ruler who had a fortress
(KA 2.1.17.11;2.1.5). He received a salary, as princes (KA 5.3.7) and par-
ticipated in interstate relations ( KA.12.5.25; see, also KA 1.16.7;2.16. 21).
The "Overseer of ships"- started up the large and small ships ( KA 2.28.13)
reimbursing losses, if they arose due to his fault (KA 2.28.26), and acted in
the harbour as the ruler. To him was offered "like a father" to rescue the
ships that are tossed about by a gale and in case of damage of the goods to
make it duty-free, to levy the duties (in the presence of special adhyaksha
for this) from ships going into the harbour, to maintain order and to deflect
the attacks of pirates and enemies.
The functions of other "adhyakshas", obviously, could be executed
by individuals of lower status. But the use of the king's lands, development
of mines etc.- all this required human and material resources, which were
not compensated by king and treasury. Therefore they could be executed
only by persons who possessed authority, material resources, and high so-
cial status (local aristocracy, heads of clans, corporations, rich landowners).
Some "adhyakshas", according to the text, were connected only to a city.
And in this case we have the right to assume, that the KA authors name as
"adhyakshas" the representatives of urban structures, first of all, the heads
of professional and trade corporations. We already marked, that "rupadar-
shaka" in KA looks like a professional, money-changer (Lelioukhine 1989),
"sauvarnika" ( if to take into account a context of the chapter KA 2.14, par-
allels of KA 2.14.2-4 and 4.1.4-7 ) also looks like the head of a jewelry
corporation. Those, probably, were "the overseer at measures of weight",
"overseer at seales", and some others.
This distribution is certainly relative, taking into account that in KA
we are dealing with typical recommendations. The only certainty is that the
416
authors of the treatise did not imagine a special tax administration. The
functions of "adhyakshas" could also be executed by individuals of varying
status, for example the high nobleman - "mahamatra" and even the prince.
Such an approach to is designated in KA 1.18.2-4 - for the prince was en-
trusted with the "business", for the execution of which the "person" ("pu-
rusha") was nominated, and the prince only received the "income" transmit-
ting a part of it to the king.
This form of relations, ensuring intercommunication of the ruling
structures within the bounds of the kingdom was also in many respects
characteristic of the "mandala", the largest state structure in KA. In the
treatise this term is understood as some inequitable association of states
which included the territory of a dominant king and his dependent kings.
One of main ideas used as a basis for analyzing the information pro-
vided by KA concerning the state and administration, is that there was rep-
resentation, that the purpose of the treatise was the exposition of recom-
mendations on management of the state. But in the text the purpose of the
treatise is formulated otherwise - "Science arthashastra" - is a means for the
purchase and protection of the land settled by the people (KA
15.1.2,compare to KA 1.1.1). Protection is understood in the treatise very
broadly - as measures for the preservation of the conventional structure of
authorities, order, customs, norms of life. It provides for actions not only
against "external", but also against "internal" enemies - offenders, thieves,
traitors, and, including, against adhyakshas, if they take away more than
permitted ("absorbing janapada", bringing the people to rebellion), conceal
a portion of that which they were obliged to transmit to the treasury (as-
signing thus the "property of king"). And land purchase is considered in
KA not simple, as absorption by one kingdom of another, but as a gradual
subordination of other territories, and as a creation and expansion the
king`s "mandala" (KA 7.13.42,7.16.33, 13.4.54-61). "Mandala" in a treatise
not only a part of a large state structure, but also a peculiar algorithm for
the construction of the traditional "world-order" ,socio-political structure of
society. The hierarchical principle of its construction shall apply in KA to a
structure of a kingdom ("rajya") and, apparently, to the structure of society
on the whole. Therefore in the text we have many recommendations to the
king not to infringe on property, as dependent rulers, as officials or noble-
417
men (KA5.1.55-56;7.16.26-33;7.18.20-22;13.4.54-61), for in such cases
whole "mandala" will raise against him, to conclude the treaties with weak
rulers, if they express the obedience (7.2.14;7.3.10 ), not to infringe on the
basic lands of the allies and the other. The opposite actions are understood
as infringement of a traditional structure of authorities, a political construc-
tion of the world. It leads to the imbalance of the entire system, to rebellion
of all the rulers against him, being anxious about their safety. Just the rep-
resentations about hierarchy of rulers of different levels as about the politi-
cal aspects of "world-construction" are the main system of coordinates in
the recommendations of the treatise. Therefore in the text, the mutual rela-
tions of king with the rulers, noblemen and some officials in his own king-
dom, recommendations for "external" and "internal" policy, intrigues,
simulated in KA for elimination kings inclined to hostility, "mahamatras" ,
"adhyakshas" and others all look rather similar. In essence, the majority of
them in KA executed similar functions, accordingly, their mutual relations
should also be similar. Therefore, the kingdom in KA is only a step of tra-
ditional "world-construction" (though a major one), the king is only the
representative of the hierarchy of the rulers, "Masters", each of which is
provided in the treatise with the appropriate rights and responsibilities.
As far as the structure of society in KA is considered personified, as
the hierarchy of the "Masters", "rulers" of different levels, naturally looks
to the inclusion of territories of each such ruler within the framework of the
other, larger association as its component. As the "states" look in a treatise
"mandala", "kingdom", any other association, possession of dependent
ruler and, in a certain degree, possessions of the "chiefs of cities and coun-
tries". "Mandala" looks like a conglomerate of kingdoms, but also the last,
are presented, as an association of territories of dependent rulers and allies,
various "chiefs".
One result of this uniform approach to the characteristic of these
"Masters" is a tendency toward a natural contamination of concepts and
terminology. Kingdom, is often considered in the treatise, as "household-
ing", where the king represents itself as the "supporter", "benefactor" and
all his subordinates are referred as the "servants". Relations between king
and other authorities, "Masters" interpreted in words, transmitting personal
relations (friend, associate, father-children and etc). Simultaneously, ser-
418
vant of the king ("anujivin"), as it should from the text could posess "a
group of supporter and allies"(KA 5.4.7;5.5.14-15 ), "adhyaksha" - posess
"a group of supporter - the advisers, allies, servants and relatives"(2.9.25)
and etc. The king as any other person, possessed authority over slave, ser-
vant, house is named in the text as the "Master" ("svamin" ), and as the
"neighbours" are designated in KA dependent kings and the householders,
united in frameworks of the village community.
Identification of KA with a complex of the practical recommenda-
tions on management of a state has forced researchers to understand under
each "administrative term" a particular post and person for executing it.
Whereas, in KA the majority of the terms fix, rather, only function and do
not testify to the status, place in a structure of society its executor. There-
fore, depending on a context, one and the same person can be easily desig-
nated by different terms. So, for example, same king can be designated, in
different contexts, as "neighbour", "ally", "enemy", "Master" and etc.
Number of the terms in a treatise, however, look like the basic, main.
It is, first of all, terms "mukhya"(chief), "mahamatra"(high official or no-
bleman) and "rajan" (king). By the first are designated the "chiefs" from the
head of the family up to the ruler of a city or the area, with which is rec-
ommended to negotiate through the ambassador. King refers to the "lord of
mandala", separate ruler and dependent ruler, possession of which are in-
cluded in any kingdom. On occasion the difference between "chief", "no-
bleman" and "king" becomes indiscernible. So, for example, from KA
5.1.15, 5.6.16 follows, that "mukhya" or "mahamatra" could quite replace
the king on throne, in a number of cases they are characterized in the text
as dependent rulers. On the other hand, dependent rulers inclined to hostil-
ity are in KA 5.1.53-55 interpreted, similarly to "mahamatras", as traitors
instead of as enemies. The terms "mukhya", "mahamatra", characterizing
the status of the person, nothing is said about the last activity, his role in the
recommendations of KA. Though in the treatise virtues and responsibilities
are spoken of in detail, even the small-sized employees, spies, about two
mentioned above by a anything similar is not informed. They, obviously,
were not nominated and received the appropriate status on birth or other
ways. All it does is distinguish the specified terms from others.

419
In reviewing the information provided in the second book of the trea-
tise concerning "adhyakshas" and other "officials", we noticed the absence
of a designation of limits of their competence, particular indications on
their status. The obvious functional character of the term "adhyaksha" has
allowed us to deliver a question otherwise - who could execute their re-
sponsibility? The analysis of the evidence from the treatise makes it possi-
ble to put forward the suggestion that the functions were executed, more
than likely, by representatives of existing public structures - nobility, heads
of the clans, of craft corporations, dependent rulers etc., i.e. just those, who
are referred to in a treatise as "mukhya", "mahamatra" and "rajan". It seems
fair, taking into account that in the treatise only "chiefs" communicated
with similar structures ("purarashtramukhya" in KA 1.16.7;2.16.21; "de-
shakulajatimukhya" in KA 13.5.9; "shrenimukhya" in KA 13.3.1-7,and "18
main officials", "tirtha", listed in KA 1.12.6,proceeding from KA 1.13.1 are
interpreted, as "mahamatras").
As far as the structure of society in KA is considered personified, as
the hierarchy of the "Masters", "rulers" of a given level, and the kingdom as
an association of territories of the king and his relatives ("mula"), depend-
ent kings ("saman-ta", "mitra"), various "chiefs" and "mahamatras", the
main purpose of the "internal policy", obviously, should be maintenance of
the unity of the kingdom. In this connection in the treatise, the important
concept "paksha" ("association, group of supporters"), makes it possible to
divide the "rulers" and "chiefs" into two large groups - supporters and op-
ponents of king. The king’s policy is most often constructed according to
this division, directed, more often, to personal encouragement and an in-
crease of the number supporters, as well as on avoiding and eliminating
those inclined to treason, enemies and etc. Each representative of the hier-
archy of the "Masters" could have the "group of supporters". KA recom-
mends taking into account force last, take into consideration with it holder.
So in KA 2.9.24 is marked - if "adhyaksha" has a group of supporter, it is
impossible to take away his property. It should through the spy receive the
information about his "group of supporter, including the advisers, servants,
allies and relatives", about his incomes and contacts with the opponent.
And only then he can be removed, as though "for the treason", having
found out the message of the enemy (KA 2.9.25-27.). Intrigue, obviously,
420
has the purpose of showing legitimacy of action, not to call displease from
the supporters of this "adhyaksha".
"Possession by a group of supporters" - is the characteristic attribute
for many representatives of hierarchy of the rulers in KA. The recommen-
dation KA 5.1.3 "to involve a group of the persons inclinable to treason",
obviously means the opponents of "mahamatra", not of the king. In KA
5.1.9-11 it is recommended to eliminate the "mahamatra" with the help of
group of supporter killed by him his brother. In this chapter is offered for
the king to use secret methods to "his own group" and "group of the oppo-
nent", obviously consisting from "mahamatras, chiefs and subordinated
kings". To the Regent-"amatya" is offered to involve on party "the chief" ,
if he has "a group of supporters" , that then secretly to remove him ( KA
5.6.8.). As included in the group of those inclined to treason are referred to
in KA 13.3.36 "the chiefs of cities, areas, army", in 13.3.2- "the heads of
the shreni". "Destroyer the ally" king in KA 7.13.18-19 is interpreted, as
"destroyer the group of his supporters" in KA 7.14.14 To king is offered to
acquire "a group of supporters consists from allies and relatives", in KA
7.2.23 to resort to the help of "middle", or "neutral" king, or "the kings be-
longing to a group of their supporters". Permanent activity of king on a in-
crease of a group of his supporters and elimination of a group of his oppo-
nents - is the essence of a policy in KA, uniformity of a socio-political
structure of society causes, therefore the identical approach, similarity of
methods of an external and internal policy, relations of king with "high of-
ficials", "chiefs" and other kings.
The socio-political structure of society, as it was presented by the au-
thors of KA, was probably the reason there was no need for any advanced
economic administration, which simply cannot be found in the treatise. The
management in the own territory of king ("mula") was executed, on a idea
of the authors of a treatise similarly to other territories of the kingdom.
Communities, associations of communities, and local authorities paid con-
ventional duties to the "chiefs" and etc., part of these sums the "chiefs"
transmitted to treasury. If they defaulted in their payments, or took more
than their right, the king punished them or had them eliminated as "traitors"
or "criminals" . The definite care for treasury, store, forces and some ser-
vices of a court is required only, but also in these spheres, rather, key posts
421
taken by the representatives of the aristocracy. And it is impossible to con-
sider them only as officers.
The authors of KA did not imagine" a state of the issuing laws".
They also understood "the state collecting the taxes" in a peculiar way. In
the treatise no special tax administration is stipulated, and in the fiscal pur-
poses were used the heads of communal organizations of a different level,
the heads of corporations, aristocracy, noblemen and etc. Was offered
widely to transmit rights to the tax collecting, use the king's property by
"adhyakshas". In such conditions, objectively, the problems of administra-
tion were narrowed, reduced only to control of the transfer of appropriate
taxes by the local authorities, which were used for fiscal purposes, executed
(natural, according to the concept KA), function of "adhyakshas" and other
"officials". The relative stability of the kingdom in KA was caused, first of
all by a policy of king, constantly engaged by formation of the "group of
supporters", his "mandala", looked after the loyalty and honesty the "Mas-
ters" of a lower level, especially at redistribution of the income, as well as
removed the traitors, enemies and criminals (in the widest sense of a word),
replacing them by their more loyal and honorable relatives, aiming (in the
majority of cases) to save continuity of authority and to avoid rebellion at
any level. And among his main assistants, engaged only by a service for
their "Master", carrying out by the respective measures, check of honesty
and loyalty king's sup-porters at any level, were numerous in KA "secret
people" or the spies.

REFERENCEC

Altekar, A.S. 1973. State and Government in Ancient India. Delhi.


Breloer, B. 1936. Kautaliya Studien. Bd.3. Bonn-Leipzig.
Heesterman, J.C. 1985. The Inner conflict of tradition. Chicago.
Jayaswal, K.P. 1955. Hindu Polity. Bangalore.
Kangle, R.P. 1969. The Kautiliya Arthashastra. A Critical Edition with a glossary.
Vol.1. Bombay.
Lelioukhine, D.N. 1989. Struktura drevneindiiskogo gosudarstva v pervoi polovine I
tys. n.e. [The Structure of the ancient Indian state in the beginning of the first
millennium AD]. Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation. Moscow.

422
Lelioukhine, D.N. 1993. Gosudarstvo, administratsiia i politika v "Artkhashastre" Kau-
tilii [State, administracy and policy in Kautilya`s "Arthashastra"]. Vestnik drev-
ney istorii, №2: 4-24.
Lelioukhine, D.N. 1998. Struktura derzavy Mauriev po svedeniiam ediktov Ashoki
[The Structure of the Mauryan Empire according to Ashoca's edict]. Vestnik
drevney istorii, №2: 115-29.
Sharma, R.Sh. 1991. Aspects of Political Ideas and Institutions in Ancient India. Delhi.
Stuchevskiy, I.A. 1987 (ed.). Mezgosudarstvennye otnosheniia i diplomatiia na drev-
nem Vostoke [Inter-State Relations and Diplomaty on the Ancient East]. Mos-
cow: Nauka.
Thapar, R. 1987. The Mauryas revisited. Calcutta-Delhi.
Vigasin, A.A., and A.M.Samozvantzev 1984. "Arthashastra". Problemy socialnoi
structury i prava ['Arthashastra'. The problems of social structure and law].
Moscow: Nauka.

423
Part Five

NOMADIC ALTERNATIVES

424
24

NOMADIC EMPIRES IN EVOLUTIONARY


PERSPECTIVE*

Nikolay N. Kradin

Introduction
Social evolution among pastoral nomads has not been studied as well
as the problems of general evolution. In generalizing essays in cultural evo-
lution, nomads are only touched upon indirectly. The emphasis in these
books is on the evolution of agrarian cultures and civilizations (Sahlins
1968; Service 1971; Adams 1975; Johnson and Earle 1987; Earle 1997
etc.). More attention to this problem was given by Marxist anthropologists
(see details on this discussion in: Khazanov 1975; Markov 1976; Kogan
1980; Halil Ismail 1983; Gellner 1988; Bonte 1990; Kradin 1992; Masanov
1995 etc.). Because I have already considered the discussions of the Marx-
ist anthropologists concerning nomadic societies specifically, and have
proposed my interpretation of this problem (Kradin 1992; 1993; 1995a), I
will not dwell on the Marxist approach. Now, my prime interest is in the
problem of placing complex pastoral society within a general scheme of a
cultural evolution.
For years, in anthropology, there has been a tradition of following
G. Spencer in his understanding of social evolution as

'change from a relatively indefinite, incoherent homogeneity to a relatively definite,


coherent heterogeneity, through successive differentiation and integrations'
(Carneiro 1973: 90).

As H.J.M. Claessen showed in his brilliant review of neoevolution-


ism, the current concepts of social evolution are much more flexible. It is

*
This study was supported by Soros Foundation Grant # H2B741.
425
apparent that social evolution has no specified line. Many channels of evo-
lution do not cause a growth in complexity. The obstacles in the way of in-
creasing complexity are simply vast, and in addition, stagnation, decline
and even destruction are just as typical of the evolutionary process as any
progressive increase in complexity or development of structural differentia-
tion. One can agree with Claessen’s characterization of social evolution as
a qualitative reorganization of society from one structural state into other
(Claessen 1990:234).
Nomadic societies are a good confirmation of these ideas. A cyclic
movement among pastoral cultures has dominated over development in
complexity. Nomads have many times united into political formations and
created great empires which have after time disintegrated. The xenocratic
empires of nomads represent the limits reached in the increasing complex-
ity of pastoral societies. Nomads did not independently evolve beyond this
stage of integration. This was an insuperable barrier determined by the
rigid ecological conditions of arid steppes. Such a view on the essence of
nomadic societies is shared by the majority of nomadologists of different
countries (Lattimore 1940; Bacon 1958; Krader 1963; Khazanov 1975;
1984; Markov 1976; Kradin 1992; Masanov 1995 etc.).
In another short publication, I stated my conclusions concerning no-
madism from the viewpoint of the theory of general evolution (Kradin
1994). I think that three levels of cultural integration of pastoral nomads are
revealed, falling into an order of increasing political complexity as follows:
(1) acephalous segmentary clan and tribal formations; (2) 'secondary' tribe
and chiefdom; (3) nomadic empires and 'quasi-imperial' pastoral polities of
smaller sizes. A changeover from one level to another could occur in either
direction.
It is the critical peculiarity of nomadic social evolution that trans-
formation of the political systems did not correlate with other criteria of so-
cial complexity. The political system of nomads could easily evolved from
the acephalous level to more complicated organizations of power and vice
versa, but such formal indicators as increase in population density, complex
technologies, increase in structural differentiation and functional speciali-
zation were instead essentially unchanged. When transforming from tribal
pastoral systems to nomadic xenocratic empires, only a growth in the total
population (due to the addition of conquered populations) takes place. The

426
political system becomes more complex and the total number of hierarchi-
cal levels increases.
In this paper, I will again discuss the social evolution of the most
complex pastoral societies - nomadic empires - despite the fact that my op-
ponents believe that these empires represent a fortuitous or accidental and
short-lived episode in the history of nomadism (Kalinovskaya 1994). I
think that this approach is incorrect. There were a great many of these
‘chance’ events, and they played too important a role in the cultural evolu-
tion of humanity. This was a specific version of adaptation under the ex-
treme ecological conditions. The results of this adaptation were so specific
that attempts to include the nomads in general evolutionary schemes
(chiefdom - early state) run into serious problems.

From tribe to nomadic empire


Possibly the most intriguing question in the history of the Great
Steppe is: what drove nomads to mass migrations and destructive cam-
paigns against agricultural civilizations? With regard to this, a great many
diverse opinions have been proposed. These opinions might be classified as
follows: 1) diverse global climatic changes (drying according to
A. Toynbee [1934] and G. Grumm-Grzhimailo [1926]; humidification ac-
cording to L.N. Gumilev [1993: 237-340]); 2) the warlike and greedy na-
ture of nomads; 3) overpopulation of the steppe; 4) growth of productive
forces and class struggle, weakening of the agricultural societies in conse-
quence of feudal division (Marxist conceptions); 5) the need to replenish an
extensive cattle-breeding economy by means of raids on more stable agri-
cultural societies; 6) unwillingness on the side of the settled peoples to
trade with nomads (the cattle breeders had nowhere to sell their surplus
products); 7) personal property of rulers of the steppe societies; 8) ethno-
integrating impulses (passionarity according to L.N. Gumilev [1989]).
The majority of the factors listed here have a certain rationality of
their own. However, the importance of some of them has been overesti-
mated. So, the present paleogeographical data do not conform to a strict
correlation between periods of the steppe drying (hunidification with peri-
ods of decline) and the prosperity of nomadic empires (Ivanov, Vasilyev
1995 table 24, 25). The 'class struggle' thesis concerning nomads has
proved to be erroneous (Markov 1976; Khazanov 1984; Kradin 1992). The

427
role of demography is not entirely known because the livestock increased
faster than the human population. An increase in livestock has led to de-
struction of grasses and crisis of the ecosystem. The nomadic life can, natu-
rally, contribute to the development of certain military characteristics. But
the farmers outnumbered them many times over, and they also had an ecol-
ogically complex economy, reliable fortresses and a more powerful handi-
craft-metallurgical base.
It seems to me that the following important factors should be taken
into account:
(1) Ethnohistorical studies of the present pastoral people of Asia and
Africa show that the extensive nomadic economy, low density of popula-
tion, absence of a settled way of life do not assume the need to develop any
legitimated hierarchy. Thus, one can assume that a demand in the state sys-
tem has not been intrinsically necessary for nomads (Lattimore 1940; Ba-
con 1958; Krader 1963; Markov 1976; Irons 1979; Khazanov 1984;
Fletcher 1986; Barfield 1992; Masanov 1995 etc.).
(2) The degree of centralization among nomads is in direct propor-
tion to the extent of the neighboring agricultural civilization. From the
viewpoint of the World-System approach, nomads have always occupied a
place of 'semi-pheriphery' which has consolidated different regional eco-
nomics into a common space (local civilizations, 'world-empires'). In each
local regional zone, the political structurization of the nomadic 'semi-
pheriphery' was in direct proportion to the size of the 'core'. That is the rea-
son why, in order to trade with oases or attack them, the nomads of North
Africa and the Near East have united into 'tribal confederations' of chief-
doms, nomads of the East-Europe steppes living on the margins of the An-
cient Rus' established 'quasi-imperial' state-like structures while, in Inner
Asia, for example, the 'nomadic empire' has become such an important
mode of adaptation (Grousset 1939; Lattimore 1940; Barfield 1981, 1992;
Khazanov 1981; 1984; Fletcher 1986; Fursov 1988 Kradin 1992; 1996a;
Golden 1993 etc.).
(3) Thus, the imperial and 'quasi-imperial' organization of the no-
mads in Eurasia first developed after the ending of the 'axial age' (Jaspers
1949), from the middle of the First millennium BC at the time of the
mighty agricultural empires (Ch'in in China, Maur in India, Hellenistic
states in Asia Minor, Roman Empire in Europe) and in those regions first,

428
where there were available large spaces favorable to nomadic pastoralism
(regions off the Black Sea, Volga steppes, Khalkha-Mongolia etc.) and,
secondly, where the nomads were forced into long and active contact with
more highly organized agricultural urban societies (Scythians and old ori-
ental and ancient states, nomads of Inner Asia and China, Hunns and Ro-
man Empire, Arabs, Khazars, Turks and Byzantia etc.)
(4) It is possible to trace a synchronism between the processes of
growth and decline in agricultural 'world-empires' and in the steppe 'semi-
pheriphery'. The Han Empire and Hsiung-nu power appeared over one dec-
ade. The Turkish Khaganat appeared just at that time when China has been
consolidated under the dominion of the Sui and T’ang dynasties. Similarly,
the Steppe and China entered into periods of anarchy one after another over
a short period of time. When, in China, the sedition and economic crisis
started, the system of remote exploitation of nomads ceased to work, and
the imperial confederation collapsed into separate tribes until peace and or-
der were reestablished in the south (Barfield 1992).
(5) Besides these general regularities, other more accidental factors
(ecology, climate, political situation, personal features of political leaders
and even luck) have played a part sufficient to determine the course of his-
torical development in each particular case.
There were four variants of the form of power on the steppe. The
first variant represents the classic internal integration of the tribal nomadic
ethnos into a centralized empire. As a rule, this process was related to the
appearance of a talented political and military figure who succeeded con-
solidating all the tribes and chiefdoms (=khanates) 'living behind felt walls'
into a common state (Maotun of Hsiung-nu, T'an-shih-huai of Hsien-pi, A-
pao-ci of Khitan, Chinggis Khan of Mongols). After the consolidation of
the nomads, the ruler must arrange an incoming of surplus product from
without to support the unity of the empire. If he had not succeed in this, the
empire would have collapsed. As this variant of steppe empire formation is
most often associated with the name of Chinggis Khan in can be called
Mongolian.
The second variant was related to formation, at the periphery of an
already developed nomadic empire, of political consolidation with strong
centripetal tendencies. In the struggle for sovereignty, this union overthrew
its exploiter and occupied its place in the economic and political infrastruc-

429
ture of a region. This variant describes the interrelations between Turks and
Jou-Jans, Uighurs and Turks, Jurchens (with some reservations because
they are not entirely nomads) and Khitans. We will call this variant Turkic.
The third variant was connected with nomadic migration and subse-
quent submission of the farmers to them. In the literature, the opinion has
been formed that this was typical of the origins of nomadic empires. How-
ever, conquest of the great agricultural civilizations was in fact more often
accomplished by already developed nomadic empires (Khitan, Jurchen,
Mongols). The formation of the state T'o-pa Wei was a classic example of
this version of nomadic empire formation (or more adequately 'semi-
nomadic' or even agricultural-stock-breeding). However this model is
found most often, on a smaller scale, in the form of the 'quasiimperial' for-
mation of nomads (Avarian, Bulgarian and Hungarian powers in Europe,
period of disturbance of 4-6 centuries in the North China (the "epoch of 16
states of five barbarian tribes" in Chinese chronicles), Kara-Khitans in East
Turkestan). We agree to call this variant Hunnian.
Finally, there has been a fourth, quite peaceful variant. It was con-
nected with the formation of nomadic empires from the segments of the
greater 'world' empires of nomads existing earlier. There were two such
empires: the Turkish Khaghanat and the Mongolian Empire. In the former
case, the empire divided into the East Turkish and West Turkish Khaghan-
ates (later, the Khazar Khaghanate and other 'quasiimperial' formations of
nomads originated based on the West Khaghanate). In the Second case,
Chinggis Khan's empire had been divided among his heirs into the uluses
of Jochi (Golden Horde), uluses of Chaghadai, ulus of Helugu (Il-Khans of
Persia), Yuan Empire (Khalkha-Mongolia and China proper). Subse-
quently, the Golden Horde collapsed into several independent Khanates.
This variant may be, for example, called Khazarian.

The Structure of Nomadic Empire


The Empire is one of the forms of the state. Specific signs of empires
are: 1) the presence of large territories; and 2) the presence of a "metropo-
lis" of the empire and "periphery" subsystems dependent on a "metropolis"
(Thapar 1981: 410ff). The fundamental difference between the nomadic
empires was that their 'centers' were highly developed only in the military
respect while they fell behind the exploited or conquered territories in so-

430
cial-economic development etc. and, actually, were 'peripheries' and 'prov-
inces' in themselves. In this case, the nomadic empire can be defined as
nomadic society organized on the military-hierarchical principle, occupy-
ing a quite large space and exploiting the nearby territories, as a rule, by
external forms of exploitation (robbery, war and indemnity, extortion of
'presents', non-equivalent trade, laying under tribute etc.). One can identify
the following signs of 'nomadic empires': 1) multistage hierarchical charac-
ter of the social organization pierced at all levels by tribal and super-tribal
genealogical ties; 2) dualistic (into 'wings) or triadic (into the 'wings' and
center) principle of administrative division of the empire; 3) military-
hierarchical character of the social organization of the center of the empire,
more often, on the 'decimal principle'; 4) coachman service (yam) as a spe-
cific way of organizing the administrative infrastructure; 5) specific system
of power inheritance (empire is a property of the whole khan clan, institu-
tion of co-government, 'kuriltai'); 6) specific character of relations with the
agricultural world (Kradin 1992; 1995a; 1996a; 1996c).
It is necessary to distinguish the classical nomadic empires from
1) the similar mixed agricultural - pastoral empires in which the nomadic
element played a great role in their history (Arabian caliphate, state of sel-
juks, Dunai and Volga Bulgaria, Osman Empire) and 2) the 'quasi-imperial'
nomadic state formations which were smaller than empires (European
Huns, avars, Hungarians, Priazov Bulgaria, Kara-kitans, Tatar khanates af-
ter the Golden Horde collapse). Three models of nomadic empires are iden-
tified: 1) nomads and farmers coexisting over a distance. The creation of
surplus products by nomads is accomplished through distant exploitation:
raids, extortion of 'presents' (actually, extortion; non-equivalent trade) etc.
(Hsiung-nu, Hsian-pi, Turks, Uighurs etc.); 2) farmers dependent on no-
mads; exploitation form - laying under tribute (Golden Horde, Yuan etc.);
3) nomads conquering the agricultural society and moving to its territory.
The robberies and laying under tribute are replaced with a regular taxation
of farmers and townspeople (Kradin 1992; 1993; 1995).
Nomadic empires were organized in the form of 'imperial confedera-
tions' (Barfield 1981, 1992). The confederations had an autocratic and state
like look from the outside (they were created to withdraw the surplus prod-
ucts outside the steppe) but were consultative and tribal inside. The stabil-
ity of steppe empires has directly depended on the skill of the supreme

431
power at organizing the production of silk, agricultural products, handicraft
articles and delicate jewels of the settled territories. As these products
could not be produced under conditions of a cattle-breeding economy, ob-
taining them by use of force and extortion was the priority task of the ruler
of nomadic society. Being a sole intermediary between China and the
Steppe, the ruler of a nomadic society had a chance to control the redistri-
bution of plunder obtained from China and, thereby, strengthen his own
power. It allowed him to maintain the existence of an empire that could not
exist on the basis of the extensive pastoral economy.
The chiefs of the tribes which made up a steppe empire have been
incorporated into the military hierarchy of the 'hundreds' and 'thousands',
however their internal policy was to a certain degree independent of the
policy of the center. This peculiarity has been thoroughly analyzed by
Thomas Barfield using the example of the Hsiung-nu empire (1981, 1992:
32-84). A certain autonomy of pastoral tribes has been determined by the
following factors: 1) economic independence made them potentially inde-
pendent of the center; 2) basic sources of power (predatory wars, redistri-
bution of tribe and other external subsidies, external trade) were quite un-
stable and outside the steppe world; 3) general armament restricted the pos-
sibility of political pressure upon tribes; 4) for the tribal groupings dis-
pleased by a policy of a Khan, the opportunity of moving to new places,
desertion under the protection of the agricultural civilization or revolt with
the aim of overthrowing the disagreeable ruler have been provided.
For this reason, political relations between the tribes and manage-
ment bodies of the steppe empire were not purely autocratic. Supertribal
power was kept by virtue of the fact that, on the one hand, membership in
the 'imperial confederation' provided the tribes with political independence
from neighbors and a number of other important advantages and, on the
other hand, a ruler of nomadic power and his surroundings guaranteed for
the nomadic tribes a certain internal autonomy within the limits of empire.
A mechanism connecting the 'government' of the steppe empire and
pastoral tribes was the institution of a gift economy. By manipulating gifts
and distributing them among comrades-in-arms and tribal chiefs, the ruler
of the steppe empire strengthened his potential influence and prestige as the
'generous khan'. Simultaneously, he has bound the persons receiving gifts
by the 'liability' of the return gift. Tribal chiefs receiving gifts might, on the

432
one hand, satisfy their personal appetites and might on the other hand,
strengthen their intratribal status by a distribution of gifts to fellow tribes-
men or by organizing ceremonial feasts. Besides, receiving a gift from the
ruler, the tribal chief felt as if he also received some part of the ruler's su-
pernatural charisma which contributed additionally to rise of his own pres-
tige.
One can assume that an integration of tribes into the imperial con-
federation was performed not only by symbolic exchange of gifts between
chiefs of different ranks and the khan. The same purpose was achieved by
inclusion in the genealogical kindred of different stock-breeding groups,
diverse collective arrangements and ceremonies (seasonal meetings of
chiefs and festivals, battues, erection of monumental funeral structures
etc.).
A certain role in the institutionalization of the power of the rulers of
nomadic societies has been played by their performance of the functions of
a sacred intermediary between a socium and Heaven (Tenggeri) which
would provide patronage and favor on the side of the otherworldly forces.
Subject to the religious conceptions of nomads, a ruler of a steppe society
(Shan-yu, Khaghan, Khan) has personified a society centre and, in virtue of
his divine abilities, performed rituals which should provide prosperity and
stability to the society. These functions were of colossal importance for the
society. Therefore, in the case of natural stress or disease and loss of live-
stock, an unlucky Khan could weaken or lose his charisma. The unlucky
Khan or chief could be replaced in some nomadic societies or even killed.
But ideology has never been a predominant variable in power among the
nomads. The life of the steppe society has been always filled with real
alarms and dangers which have required from the leader active participa-
tion in their overcoming. As a whole, as noted above, the power of rules of
the steppe empires of Eurasia has been largely based on external sources
(Kradin 1992, 1996a).

Supercomplex chiefdom
Could the nomads create their own statehood? How should the no-
madic empires be classified in anthropological theories of political evolu-
tion? Can they be considered states or pre-state formations? These ques-
tions are currently discussed by researchers of different countries and, es-

433
pecially, by Marxist anthropologists (see details on this debates in:
Khazanov 1975; 1984; Kogan 1980; Halil Ismail 1983; Gellner 1988;
Bonte 1990; Kradin 1992; Masanov 1995 etc.). It should be noted that for
the Marxist theory of historical progress, nomadism has became the same
stumbling-block as the 'asiatic mode of production'. How could unchanged
nomadic societies be interpreted within a framework of the common marsh
of the production modes? A dialectic theory of social progress assumed,
primordially, changes from lowest economical forms to the highest ones.
However, the economic "basis" of pastoral societies has remained un-
changed: it is the same among the modern Masaai and Arabs as among the
ancient Hsiung-nu. Thus, nomadism drops out of the Marxist dialectics of
history. On the other hand, if the economic "basis" of society didn't change,
then the "superstructure" should be unchanged. But the "superstructure" of
the pastoral nomads didn't remain basis-like persistence. The nomads now
have created giant steppe empires, now have disintegrated to separate
Khanates or acephalous lineage societies and all of this has contradicted the
principles of Marxist theory (Gellner 1988:93-97, 114).
The advocates of nomadic feudalism and the Engels - Stalin scheme
of five modes of production "connived" at the difference in economical and
cultural development between nomads and agrarian civilizations, thereby
overestimating the level of the economic "basis" of pastoralism. In these
theoretical schemes , many facts were falsified and fitted to the Procrustean
bed of dogmatic Marxism. So, the erroneous division into "early" (pre-
feudal and slave-owning societies in ancient Orient and West) and "late"
(medieval feudal) nomads has arisen.
Advocates of the concept of the pre-class development of nomads
subjected to criticism the "nomad feudalism" (Markov 1976 etc.). As "true"
Marxists, they nested up on the development level of the economic "basis"
of pastoralists. If the "basis" of ancient nomads was not a class one, then
the "basis" of the later pastoralists must not be class either. On the other
hand, primitive "superstructure" should be adjusted to primitive "basis".
Therefore, nomads in social evolution have approached at most the late
primitive (pre-class, pre-feudal etc.) stage.
This evolution in the discussions of Russian nomadologists was al-
ready obvious. For example, analysis of the samples from the "Atlas of
World Cultures" of G. Murdoc indicates that almost all known ethnohis-

434
torical nomads have not approached the state level and class stratification
(see Korotayev 1991:157, table XI). But the conclusion relative to the pre-
state nature of all nomads led to underestimating the development level of
"superstructure" for a number of pastoral societies - steppe empires. These
empires were also declared pre-state, but was their political organization
really of the same type as that of the Nuers, Gottentots or Kazaks and Kal-
myks?
At present there are two popular groups of theories explaining a
process of origin and essence of the early state. The conflict or control
theories show the origin of statehood and its internal nature in the context
of the relations between exploitation, class struggle, war and interethnic
predominance. The integrative theories were largely oriented to explaining
the phenomenon of the state as a higher stage of economic and public inte-
gration (Fried 1967; Service 1975; Claessen and Skalnik 1978; 1981;
Cohen and Service 1978; Haas 1982; 1995; Gailey and Patterson 1988;
Pavlenko 1989 etc.).
However the majority of nomadic empires can not be unambiguously
interpreted as either chiefdoms or states from the viewpoint of either the
conflict or the integrationist approaches. A similarity of the steppe empires
to the state clearly manifests itself in relations with the outer world only
(military-hierarchical structure of the nomadic society to confiscate prestig-
ious product from neighbors as well as to suppress the external pressure; in-
ternational sovereignty, specific ceremonial in foreign-policy relations).
At the same time, as to internal relations, the 'state-like' empires of
nomads (except some quite explainable cases) were based on non-forcible
(consensual and gift-exchange) relations and they existed at the expense of
the external sources without establishment of taxation on the cattle-
breeders. Finally, in the nomadic empires, the main sign of statehood was
absent. According to many current theories of the state, the main distinction
between statehood and pre-state forms lies in the fact that the chiefdom's
ruler has only consensual power i.e., in essence authority, whereas, in the
state, the government can apply sanctions with the use of legitimated force
(Service 1975:16, 296-307; Claessen and Skalnik 1978:21-22, 630, 639-40
etc.). The power character of the rulers of the steppe empires is more con-
sensual and prevented a monopoly of legal organs. Shan-yu, Khan or
khagan is primarily a redistributor and its power is provided by personal

435
abilities and know-how to get prestige goods from the outside and to redis-
tribute them among subjects.
For such societies which are more numerous and structurally devel-
oped than complex chiefdoms and which are at the same time not states
(even 'inchoate' early state), a term supercomplex chiefdom has been pro-
posed (Kradin 1992:152). This term has been accepted by fellow no-
madologists (Trepavlov 1995:150; Skrynnikova 1997:49) although, at that
time, clear logical criteria allowing us to distinguish between supercomplex
and complex chiefdoms had not been defined.
The critical structural difference between complex and supercomplex
chiefdoms was stated by Robert Carneiro in the special paper (1992); he
further develops these ideas in Chapter 3 in Alternative of Social Evolution.
True professor Carneiro prefers to call them 'compound' and 'consolidated'
chiefdoms respectively. In his opinion, a difference of simple chiefdoms
from compound ones is a pure quantitative in nature. The compound chief-
doms consist of several simple ones and over the subchiefs of districts (i.e.
simple chiefdoms), the supreme chief is ruler of the whole polity. However,
R. Carneiro pointed out that when compound chiefdoms unite into greater
polities, they rarely prove capable of overcoming the separatism of sub-
chiefs, and such structures disintegrate quickly. He traced a mechanism of
the struggle against structural division using the example of one of the
great Indian chiefdoms inhabited in XVII century on the territory of pre-
sent-day American state of Virginia. The supreme chief of this polity,
Powhatan by name, dealt with the centrifugal aspirations of the chiefs of
the segments by replacing them with his supporters who were usually his
near relations. This imparted an important structural impulse toward further
political integration.
Similar structural principles have been observed by T. Barfield in
Hsiung-nu history (1981:49; 1992:38-39). Hsiung-nu power has consisted
of a multi-ethnic conglomeration of chiefdoms and tribes included in the
'imperial confederation'. The tribal chiefs and elders have been incorpo-
rated into the all-imperial decimal hierarchy. However, their power was to
certain degree independent of the centre policy and based on the support on
the side of fellow-tribesmen. In relations among the tribal members of the
imperial confederation, the Hsiung-nu Shan-yu has relied upon support of
his nearest relations and companions-in-arms bearing titles of 'ten thousand

436
commander'. They were put at the head of the special supertribal subdivi-
sions integrating the subordinate or allied tribes into 'tumens' numbering
approximately 5-10 thousand warriors. These persons should be a support
for the metropolis' policy in the provinces.
Other nomadic empires in Eurasia were similarly organized. The sys-
tem of uluses which are often known by the Celtic term tanistry (Fletcher
1986), has existed in all the multi-polities of nomads of the Eurasian
steppes: Wu-sun (Bichurin 1950b:191), European Huns (Khazanov 1975:
190, 197), Turkish (Bichurin 1950a:270) and Uighur (Barfield 1992:155)
Khaganates, Mongolian Empire (Vladimirtsov 1934:98-110).
Furthermore, in many nomadic empires, there were special function-
aries of lower rank engaging in support of the central power in the tribes. In
the Hsiung-nu empire, such persons were named 'marquises' Ku-tu (Pritsak
1954:196-199; Kradin 1996a:77, 114-117). In the Turkish Khaganate, there
were functionaries designed to control the tribal chiefs (Bichurin
1950a:283). The Turk have also sent their governor-general (tutuks) to con-
trol the dependent people (Bichurin 1950b:77; Taskin 1984:136, 156).
Chinggis Khan, after the reform of 1206, appointed special noyons to con-
trol his relations (Cleaves 1982: §243).
The nomadic empires, as supercomplex chiefdoms, provide a real
model prototype of an early state. If the population of complex chiefdoms
are as a rule estimated in tens of thousands of people (see, for example:
Johnson and Earle 1987: 314) and if they are, as a rule, ethnically homoge-
nous, then the population of a multi-national supercomplex chiefdom
makes up many hundreds of thousand and even more people (nomadic em-
pires of the Inner Asia have amounted to 1-1.5 mln pastoral nomads) their
territory (nomads, needed a great ar of land for pastures!) was several or-
ders greater than areas needed for simple and complex chiefdoms.
From the viewpoint of neighboring agricultural civilizations (devel-
oped preindustrial states), such nomadic societies have been perceived as
independent subjects of international political relations and, quite often, as
equal in status polities (Chinese called them go). These chiefdoms had a
complex system of titles of chiefs and functionaries, held diplomatic corre-
spondence with neighboring countries, contracted dynastic marriages with
agricultural states, neighboring nomadic empires and 'quasi-imperial' poli-
ties of nomads.

437
The sources of the urban construction (already the Hsiung-nu began
to erect fortified settlements, while the 'headquarters' of the empires of
Uighur and Mongols were true towns), the construction of splendid burial-
vaults and funeral temples for representatives of the steppe elite (Pazyryk-
sky burial mounds al Altai, Scythian burial mounds in Northern Black Sea
Area, burial placed in Mongolian Noin-Ula, burial mounds of Saks time in
Kazakhstan, statues of Turkish anf Uighur Khagans in Mongolia etc.) are
characteristic. In several supercomplex chiefdoms, the elite attempted to
introduce clerical work (Hsiung-nu), in others, the epic history of the peo-
ple was written down in runes (Turks), while there is a temptation to call
some of the typical nomadic empires (first of all, Mongolian Ulus of the
first decades of XIII century) states. This is, in particular, supported by the
mention of the system of laws (Yasa) in the Secret History of Mongols, le-
gal organs of power, written clerical work and creation of laws (so called
Blue book - Koko Defter Bichik) and by attempts to introduce a taxation
under Ogodei (Kradin 1995b).
T. Skrynnikova has written an excellent book of the power in the
Chinggis Khan's empire (1997). In that monograph and, here, in Chapter 26
she considers that the Mongolian empire could not be a state. In a conver-
sation during the International Hunnian Congress in 1996 in Ulan-Ude, she
told me that my earlier position concerning a pre-class character of the
Mongolian empire (Kradin 1992) seems to her more correct. It may be that
my later opinion is untrue. In the future, I intend to make a special study of
the evolution of medieval Mongolian society. However, Skrynnikova's and
my positions are principally similar. The nomadic empires are distin-
guished from the settled agrarian states as nomads had no specialized bu-
reaucratic organs and no elite monopoly of the legitimated application of
force.

Nomadic Hinterland and World-Empire Dynamics


In accordance with the World-System approach, the main unit of de-
velopment was a great system which included the groups of polities rather
than a single country. In this group, the 'centre' (core) is identified which
exploits a 'periphery'. The core has a higher level of technology and pro-
duction and more complex internal structure and gets maximum profit. The
centres pump out the resources of periphery, draw up financial and trading

438
flows, arrange the economic space of the system (Wallerstein 1974; 1980;
1984; Ekholm and Friedman 1979; Santley and Alexander 1982; Row-
lands, Larsen, and Kristiansen 1987 etc.).
I. Wallerstein identifies three modes of production: (1) mini-systems
based on reciprocation, (2) redistributive World-Empires, (3) capitalist
World-System (World-Economy) based on the commodity and money rela-
tions (1984: 160ff).
The World-Empires exist to exact tribute and taxes from provinces
and captured colonies which are redistributed by the bureaucratic govern-
ment. The distinctive feature of World-Empires is the administrative cen-
tralization, predominance of policy over economy according to Wallerstein,
the compulsory component of the world economy's development is a down-
fall of some World-Empires, shift of the development centres and prosper-
ity of other World-Empires.
However, such an opinion about the evolution of preindustrial sys-
tems would be incomplete. It is necessary to note two important circum-
stances. First, in addition to he hierarchical World-Empires, other peer-
polity modes of production. Ancient Greece and medieval Europe served as
examples of the coexistence of multi-polar centres of economy and power
(see Renfrew and Cherry 1986). Andrey Korotayev has shown that the
West was no exception. In ancient Arabia, several centres and peripheral
systems have coexisted in what he proposes to call 'multipolity' (Korotayev
1995; 1996; see also Chapter 21 in this Volume, note 4). Therefore, in the
preindustrial period, a division of labor between separate elements of re-
gional systems could be performed on the basis of different models of in-
teraction.
Secondly, it is necessary to clarify how many such models and pre-
industrial modes of production (I use here this term so as it is understood
by I. Wallerstein) there could, in principle, be? This question was formu-
lated by Andrey Fursov who moved an emphasis from the traditional Marx-
ist problem 'how many modes of production have existed in history' to an-
other plane (1989:298).
Two models of interaction are known: redistributive 'World-Empires'
and polycentric 'World-Systems' (Chaze-Down 1988). As to the modes of
production, it is more complex. Fursov has created a solid social philoso-
phical theory in which all the main present-day theories were synthesized.

439
In this opinion, living labor manifests itself in two forms - individual and
collective. The greater is developed production, the more independent is a
collective labor. In preindustrial systems, a relationship of a collective (C)
and individual (I) is fixed in the social organization (Gemeinwesen). Only
three types of relationship are possible: С>I, С=I, С<I. Is correspond to the
'Asiatic', 'Ancient', and Germanic' forms of Gemeinwesen identified by
Marx.
On this base, Fursov believes that there can be only three modes of
production (i.e. models of productions organization): (1) slave-owning -
when each of the citizens combined in a collective (policy) alienates indi-
vidually the labor of slaves who have no property (С ∏ I); (2) feudalism -
when a seignior alienates individually the labor of peasants possessing
means of production (I ∏I); (3) Asiatic mode of production - when a despot
and state alienate the labor of the great mass of the population (I ∏С). It is
obvious that it is the 'world-empire' (1989:298-317).
A loss by a human of individuality in the case of slaveowning and
feudalism has an incomplete nature. A peasant has land and tools and in the
slaveowning society a concept of 'freedom' and free citizens occurs. In the
east, there is no freedom but there is a 'general slavery' (a term which was
evidently borrowed by Marx from Montesqueien). A. Fursov considers that
Gemeinwesen of K. Marx are the stages of the successive liberation of the
man's subject qualities from his collective nature. The world-wide histori-
cal process is developed in two planes: deadlock Asiatic, where the system
dominates the individual and advanced western, where, in each higher so-
cial formation, successive emancipation of the subject is realized. With
formation of the capitalist World-System, the subjective West subordinates
the collectivist East and uses it as a 'periphery' (Fursov 1989; 1995).
I would like to change or add a few things to this classification. It is
evident that the subject and system flows of Fursov conform to the decen-
tralization World-Systems and tributary World-Empires. However, this
classification is short of one link: С∏С, when one collective exploits an-
other one. I think this place should be occupied by the nomadic empires.
They were also redistributive societies. But they differed from the agrarian
empires with the 'Asiatic' mode of production where a government levied a
tribute and taxes on its subjects, while the pastoral economy of nomads was
carried out within the family-related and lineage groups and based on mu-
440
tual aid and reciprocation. Redistribution has only affected the external
sources of the empire's income: plunder, tribute, trading duties and gifts.
The nomads, in a given situation, took the part of "class-society" and
"state-society", rising as a building over the settled-agrarian foundation.
For this, the nomad elite performed the functions of bureaucracy and com-
manders, while the ordinary pastoralist made the expansion and repres-
sions. Such a society might be called xenocratic (Kradin 1992; 1993;
1995a; 1996a; 1996b).
There is some similarity between the xenocratic pastoral polity and
'African' mode of production of K. Coquery-Vidrovith (1969) as well 'trib-
ute-paying' formation S. Amin (1976:13-19; 1991). They are made similar
by a dependence of the government on the external sources of subsistence
as well as by the semi-peripheral position in the international division of
labor. The concept of semi-periphery was introduced by Wallerstein to des-
ignate the intermediate zone between the centre and periphery. The semi-
periphery is exploited by the core but itself exploits a periphery as well as
being an important stabilizing element in the world division of labor. I.
Wallerstein argues that the three-link structure is characteristic of any or-
ganization, the transitional link which provides a flexibility and elasticity of
the whole system (centrist parties, 'middle class', etc.) exists always be-
tween polar elements.
The concept of semi-periphery was developed mainly to describe
processes in present-day capitalist World-Systems. In the preindustrial pe-
riod, some functions of the semi-periphery could be performed by trading
towns-states of ancient times and the middle ages (Phoenicia, Carthage,
Ganza, Venice, Genoa), militarist states 'satellites' arising near the highly-
developed centre of the region (Accad and Sumer in Mesopotamia, Sparta,
Macedonia and Athens, Austrasia and Neistria of Franks Empire) (Chaze-
Dunn 1988) as well as nomadic empires of the Eurasiatic steppes. The em-
pires of nomads were also the militarist 'satellites' of agrarian civilization as
they depended on a supply of products from there as this process was figu-
ratively pictured by O. Lattimore (1962): 'barbarism is a result of civiliza-
tion'. However, the nomads have performed important intermediary func-
tions between regional World-Empires. Similar to seafarers, they have pro-
vided the connection of the flows of goods, finances, technological and cul-
tural information between the islands of the settled economy and urban
civilization.
441
However, it would be an error to consider the nomadic empires as
representing the semi-periphery in all senses. The semi-periphery is ex-
ploited by the core whereas the nomadic empires have never been exploited
by agrarian civilizations. Any society of the semi-periphery aspires to tech-
nological and production growth. The mobile mode of life of pastoral no-
mads has not provided the opportunity to make considerable accumulations
(cattle could be accumulated but its quantity was limited by the productiv-
ity of the pastures and this natural 'bank' could at any instant go bankrupt
due to drought or snowstorm) and their society was based on the gift econ-
omy. All plunder was distributed by the rulers of the steppe empires be-
tween the tribal chiefs and cattle-breeders and consumed during mass fes-
tive occasions. The nomads were doomed to remain Hinterland. Only con-
quest of the core allowed them to become a 'centre'. But for this purpose it
was necessary to cease to be a nomad. The Great Yeh-lu Ch'u-ts'ai realized
this: "Although you inherited the Chinese Empire on horseback, you cannot
rule it from that position".
There is a close relationship between the prosperity of the agrarian
World-Empire (as well as World-Economy) and the power of nomadic em-
pires which existed at the expense of extortion of a portion of the resources
of the settled town states. In Inner Asia, this correlation is especially clear
for here there are many areas of pasture which made possible the formation
of a large steppe empire from tribes and chiefdoms. I will once again repeat
that the Han dynasty and Hsiung-nu Empire have appeared for one decade.
The Turkish Khaganate arose just as China was united under power of the
dynasties of Sui and, later, T'ang etc. And, in contrast, the periods of crisis
in IV-V and X centuries in China led to political entropy in the steppe ar-
eas.
It gave ground to the Japanese historian J. Tamura to identity two
long cycles in the history of North Eurasia: (1) the cycle of ancient no-
madic empires within the arid zone of Inner Asia (II century BC - IX cen-
tury AD): Hsiung-nu, Hsien-pi, Jou-jan, Turks, Uighurs; (2) the cycle of
the medieval conquest dynasties coming from the forest (Jurchen, Manchu-
rians) or steppe (Khitans, Mongols) zones (X century - beginning XX cen-
tury): Liao, Chin, Yuan, Ch'ing. The societies of the first cycle have inter-
acted with China at a distance whereas the states of the second conquered
the agricultural South and established the symbiotic state structures with

442
the dual management system and original forms of culture and ideology
(1974).
The concept of T. Barfield is more complex. He not only established
a synchrony between the growth and decline of the nomadic empires and
similar processes in China, but noted also that the conquest of China was as
a rule a business of the 'Manchurian people'. The breakdown of centralized
power in China and in the steppe released the latter from pressure both on
the side of nomads and on the side if Chinese. Manchuria's people realized
from the external pressing have established their state formations and con-
quered the agricultural areas on the South. Especially, Khitan, Jurchen, and
Manchurian have succeeded in conquest. In Barfield's opinion, a cyclic
structure of political relations between people of China, Central Asia,
Mongolia and Far east were repeated three times for a period of two thou-
sand years (Barfield 1992:13 table 1.1).
Both these theories complement each other. The relation between
flights and crises of agrarian World-Empires and the activities of nomads is
evident. In this paper, I pointed out already that the formation of early no-
madic empires (Scythia, Parthia, Hsiung-nu etc.) falls within the final pe-
riod of the axial age' when the powerful agrarian World-Empires (Ch'in and
Han in China, Persia and Hellenistic states in Asia Minor etc.) are estab-
lished. The first global demographic crisis of our millennium (III-V centu-
ries) observed at nearly the same time in different parts of the Old World
(Biraben 1979: 13-24) did not by chance coincide with the epoch of the
'great migration of peoples'. Notwithstanding the ordinary opinion, the no-
mads did not at all seek to direct the conquest of the agrarian territories.
They didn't need this. To rule the agrarian society, the nomads should be
'dismounted from the horse'. And only during periods of crisis and collapse
of the settled societies, were the nomads forced to enter into closer relations
with the farmers and townspeople (according to figurative note of
R.Grousset (1939) 'vacuum has sucked in them inside the agrarian society').
The Sui and, subsequently, T'ang successes caused a new joining up
of all tribes and chiefdoms of Inner Asia in the imperial confederation of
Turks. It is possible that a particular effect on this process was exerted by
regular periods of a moister climate on the Mongolian steppes (Ivanov and
Vasiljev 1995: 205 table 25). The First Khaganate of Turks became the first
true Eurasiatic empire. It connected, through trade routes, China, Byzantia

443
and the Muslim World. But the unity was fragile. In the short run, the
Khaganate collapsed into western and eastern parts. The Second Khaganate
of Turks and Uighurs was unable to restore unity in Eurasia. As a result of
the next conflict in China and drought in the Mongolian steppes, the peo-
ples of Manchuria - Khitans and Jurchen - began to play the leading part.
The Mongolian storm of the XIII century coincided with a new pe-
riod of moistening in Mongolia and the steppes of East Europe (Ivanov and
Vasiljev 1995: 205 table 25) and with a demographic and economic upturn
in all parts of the Old World and became a culmination of the history of
preindustrial World-Empires. The Mongols merged a chain of international
trade into the united complex of land and sea routes. For the first time, all
great regional cores (Europe, Muslim area, India, China, Golden Horde)
proved to be united in the first World-System (Abu-Lughod 1989). In the
steppe, similar to fantastic mirages, there arose gigantic cities - centres of
political power, transit trade, multinational culture and ideology (Kara-
korum, Sarai-Batu, Sarai-Berke). From this time, political and economical
changes in some parts of the world began to play a much greater part in the
History of other parts of the world.
The existence of the first World-System did not last long. The
plague, the ejection of the Mongols from China and the decline of the
Golden Horde became the most important links of the chain of events that
conditioned its downfall. Demographers mark the serious crisis in all its
main sub-centres in the period of 1350-1450 (Biraben 1979). At the begin-
ning of 15th century, the first World-System disintegrated. Tamerlane’s
desperate efforts to restore the transcontinental trade met, in the end, with
failure. The Ming resumed the traditional policy of opposing the nomads
which resulted in the regeneration of an older policy of the Mongols’ re-
mote control exploitation of China (Pokotilov 1976). In the new capitalist
World-System, the nomads were allotted quite another position. The ma-
chine technology, fire-arms and new sources of energy have changed the
balance to their disadvantage. Since that time, the steppe Hinterland has
ceased to play any noticeable role in the dynamics of the World-System
processes.

444
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25

SOCIO-POLITICAL STRUCTURE OF THE


PECHENEG

Alexey V. Marey

The Pechenegs are a Turkic-speaking people, related to Oguz. In the


VI-VIIIth centuries they roamed the central area of the Syr-Darya valley ,
known as Kang (Golden 1990:270); hence their self-ethnonym: "Kangar",
mentioned by Bagrjanorodnyj (Litavrin 1991:159). After the split of the
Turkic Kaganate in the VIIIth century, the Kangars were the allies of the
eastern Turks in their struggle against the western ones (Kljashtornyj
1964:164). In the latter half of the VIIIth century the Pechenegs were
pushed by the Oguz Turks to the "Atila and Geпkh" area (Litavrin
1991:155) identified by Soviet/Russian historians as lying between the riv-
ers of Volga, Ural and Emba.
In the first half of the IXth century, the united Oguz forces drove the
Pechenegs from this area, and by 915 the Pechenegs made their appearance
at the borders of Kievan Rus' for the first time. Groups of the Right
Pecheneg wing bordered the Torks' tribal area, and also the lands of the
Alans, Khazar Kaganate and the Byzantium feme of Climata. The left wing
of the Pechenegs was located near the borders of Bulgaria, Hungary and
Kievan Rus' in the region known as Atelkuz (modern Hungarian – Etelkuz,
[Litavrin 1991:155]). Here, in the Transdnieper and Transdanubian steppes
they managed to hold their grounds until the next serious encroachment –
that of the Torks in the middle of the XIth century.
In the latter half of the XIth century (1048-1091), the Pechenegs were
being pressured by the Torks and engaged in a bitter military struggle with

450
Byzantine forces. Finally, in 1091 the Emperor Alexey Comnin, together
with the Kumans (Polovtsy) managed to strike an ultimate, defeating blow
to the Pechenegs (Anna Comnina 1996: 240-243; Georgius Cedrenus
1647:783). After 1091 the Pechenegs ceased playing ani mportant histori-
cal role in the area and this role was now taken over by other nomads such
as the Torks, Kumans, and Mongols.
The earliest description of Pecheneg social structure was written by
Konstantin Bagrjanorodnyj and contains data on the Pechenegs of the Xth
century (Litavrin 1991). Bagrjanorodnyj states that the Pechenegs social
structure was comprised of eight divisions (femes), each headed by the ar-
chonts (i.e., princes). Each feme was further subdivided into five section,
with the leaders of these section subordinate to the respective archonts.
Bagrjanorodnyj does not elaborate further on the structure of the femes, but
we may confidently infer that these femes were, in fact, conglomerates of
clans. supreme power belonged to the members of the ruling clan. The lines
of heirs followed through cousins:

"…in order not to leave the dignity constantly only within the members of only one
lineage, but let honors be inherited by the side lines as well" (Litavrin 1991:155).

Each Pechenegian feme was divided into five parts (probably clans).
Femes were headed by superior chiefs to whom smaller chiefs (i.e. heads of
clanes) were subordinate. The supreme power within the femes was heredi-
tary in the sense that it remained within definite clans (Litavrin 1991:155).
We have no data showing how the chiefs of the femes were ap-
pointed by the paramount chiefs of the whole Pecheneg confederation.
Most probably the chiefs of the femes were elected from the appropriate
candidates belonging to the appropriate clans. We have, additionally, no
data on the existence of a bureaucratic apparatus among the Pechenegs.
The existence of people assemblies (coment) among the Pechenegs
has been noted by Anna Comnina (1996:208), Georgius Cedrenus
(1647:779). But the actual power of these assemblies was very limited, and
major decisions were made by the chiefs (Kochin 1936:7; Georgius
Cedrenus 1647:779).
What is the Pechenegian feme? Is it a tribe or a chiefdom? Judging
from the definition of a chiefdom as a "hierarchically organized system of
governing power with the people removed from these powers" (Kradin
451
1995b:16-17) and by the data presented above (i.e., an explicitly defined
order of succession to positions of power, the monpoloization of powers by
one lineage within each feme, the presence of one superior (for the feme)
chief (archont), the declining influence of coment in comparison with the
power of chiefs) we must conclude that the Pechenegs of the Xth century
were organized into chiefdoms.
The range of questions solved at the confederational level is rela-
tively well-known. These were "the foreign policy" questions, the dates and
directions of the major united military expeditions and questions related to
religious beliefs and practices. The problems at the level of the feme's chief
were probably decisions on the smaller depredations, mercenary questions
and trade questions related to the activities of concrete femes.
The functions of the chiefs of all levels included the extortion of pre-
sents, mostly from Byzantium, with the aim of their subsequent distribution
among the close allies and relatives. Thus the chiefs raised their prestige.
Bagrjanorodnyj mentions the approximate list of such presents. This list is
quite similar to that of the Hsiung-nu – Chinese relations (Kradin 1996 and
Chapter 24 in this volume) and included: precious silk clothes, purple-
colored clothes, bands and shawls and other small confectionery items (Li-
tavrin 1991: 41).
The existence of these extortionist practices and the rise of groups of
Pecheneg mercenaries who offerent their services to the agricultural states
supports the view that the Pechenegs of the Xth century had a socio-
political organization consisting of a confederation of nomadic tribes or of
compound chiefdoms (dependent on the presence or absence of a strong
charismatic leader). This confederation (of chiefdom) served as a "soft"
buffer between Byzantium and Kievan Rus'.
Eight femes were organized into two wings; this dual form of or-
ganization was quite characteristic of the eastern Turks (Golden 1990:271).
To understand this type of organization better we need to analyzed the
names and locations of these femes.

"…The name of the first feme is Irtim, of the second – Tsur, the third – Gila, fourth –
Culpei, fifth – Haravoi, sixth – Talmat, Seventh – Hopon, eighth – Tsopon (Litavrin
1991:155).

452
These names have real Turkic etymologies and were translated into Rus-
sian by Baskakov (1960:87). We arranged them into a table, for conven-
ience (see below).

Bagryano- Full name Turcic ba- Baskakov’s translation


rodnyj’s of a feme sis of a
naming name
Irtim Iavdiertim Iabdy Er- distingished by merits
tim
Tsur Kuertsitsur Kuerchi Blue Chur (chur is a name
Chur for high official)
Gila Havuksin- Kabukshin Iula of the tree bark’s colour;
gila Iula Iula– official with the high
status
Kulpei Sirukalpei Suru Kul- Grey kulbei; kul – part of a
bei name or title, bei – lord
Haravoi -- Kara Bei Black Lord

Talmat Vorotalmat Boro Tol- Dark Interpreter


mach
Hopon Giaziho- Yazy Yazy - name;
pon Kopon Kopon – title
Tsopon Vulatsopon Bula Cho- "Bula" - name;
pon Chopon – sheperd

From the above materials we can conclude the following: (1) at least
two of the named femes - Havuksingila and Kuertsitsur - consisted of
members of well-respected (by the rest of the Pecheneg) clans; and
(2) eight femes were divided into two equal groups each with different ter-
ritories. This is well demonstrated by Bagrjanorodnyj who wrote that:

"…The four clans of the Pachinakits, namely: femes of Kuartsitsur, Sirukalpei, Voro-
talmat and Vulatsopon live at the far side of the Dnieper river, toward the more east-
ern and northern lands, in front of Uzia, Khazaria, Alania, Herson… The rest four
femes are situated at the near side of Dnieper, stretching towards western and north-
ern lands, namely: feme Giazihopon neighbours Bulgaria, Lower Gila neighbours
Turkia, Haravoi neighbours Russia and Iavdiertim feme neighbours with the lands
paying tribute to Russia" (1991:157).

Further, it should be noted that the highest ranking lineages are dis-
tributed equally between the two Pechenegian phratries, i.e. Kuertsitsur is
453
in the eastern group and Havuksingila – in the western. Although we have
no direct data upon the system of subordination between the leaders of the
femes, it seems probable that the chiefs of the two above-mentioned femes
were in prominent positions in relation to the chiefs of the "ordinary" fe-
mes. The structure of another north-eastern feme, namely – Iavdiertim,
(which is translated "distinguished by merits") is also of interest. These
were probably comprised of exceptionally skilled warriors. We have one
direct indicator of the special position of these three femes:

"…Pachinakits are also called Kangar, not all of them, however, but only people of
the femes: Iavdiertim, Kuartsitsur and Havuksingila, as being braver and nobler than
all the rest, which presupposes the very name of Kangar" (Litavrin 1991: 159).

These three femes were also singled out in the work of Golden (1990: 271),
who suggested the existence of an unstable tribal confederation among the
Pechenegs of the Xth century.
I think, however, that the data point at the probable existence of a
more complex and stratified political structure among these tribes, i.e. the
existence of a complex chiefdom. In corroboration of this thesis let me cite
the following evidence: (1) A strictly defined order of the power succes-
sion; (2) Five/decimal organization of the army, characteristic of the later
Turk-Mongolian nomads. This form of military organization is suggested
by the division of each feme into five smaller parts, respectively. This divi-
sion resembles the later ulus organization of the Golden Horde (Kochin
1936:76). (3) From the strict rules of power inheritance, the division of so-
ciety into closed social strata may be inferred, or at least the process of the
formation of such strata may be inferred. To support this inference I quote
the letter of Archbichop Bruno to the Emperor Heinrich the Second:
''…circumtravelled the three parts of their country; could not reach the
fourth, yet even from this part the highest of its inhabitants sent to us their
trustees" (Kochin 1936:76; the emphasis is mine).
On the basis of the above observations I suggest that the Pechenegs
were organized in a complex, or compound chiefdom, i.e "several simple
chiefdoms united as semi-autonomous, or vassalous units subordinated to
the administration of the paramount chief" (Kradin 1992:148). What can
we say about the "nomadic empire" of the Pechenegs? Kradin defines no-

454
madic empire as a complex sociopolitical system, occupying a vast territory
and having a nomadic nucleus with a

"military hierarchical pyramidal structure and relatively undeveloped internal exploi-


tation" and subordinate territories which may include both agricultural and other
peoples, exploited in the form of "exoexploitation" (Kradin 1992:168; 1995a:166ff).

The Pechenegs of the Xth century satisfy all of the above-mentioned


criteria. They were concieved by their neighbours as "the country of
Pechenegs" (Kochin 1936:76; Novoseltsev 1965:387-390), i.e., they occu-
pied truly vast territories. By their wars and raids over 200 years they
threatened such powerful countries as Rus', Bolgaria and Bysantium. The
Emperor of Byzantine himself recommended to his heir to give Pechenegs
presents and hire them as soldiers (Litavrin 1991:43). However, the
Pechenegs power system described above suggests that the Xth century
Pechenegs had the structure of a complex chiefdom and not that of a no-
madic empire There is an additional circumstance arguing against defini-
tion of the Pechenegs as a nomadic empire. The Arabic source Khudūd al-
®ālam (cit. by Golden 1990: 273) states that the title used by the Pechene-
gian ruler is Mihtar (Prince) and not Kagan, the latter being well-known
and used by the Arabs, which implies that his power was limited.
Another complicated question is whether or not there existed a head-
quarters for the Pechenegs’ paramount chief? Archaeologists have not yet
found either the winter grounds of the Pechenegs, nor the headquarters of
their chiefs. However, in the XIth century, Archbishop Bruno wrote:

"… It was Sunday when we were led to the major grounds of the Pechenegs. We
were allocated with the special grounds and had to wait until all the people, having
been informed previously through the special messengers, would gather" ( Kochin
1936:76).

Bruno also wrote that the people had gathered in a week and the
council of the chiefs ultimately allowed the missionaries to preach Christi-
anity in all four of the Pechenegian districts. Hence, we can infer that there,
indeed, was a central headquarters, as the Pechenegs knew where they had
to assemble. Probably the "major Pechenegian grounds" was assigned to a
specific place for a specific period of time, or was located permanently in
geographically restricted area (Kochin 1936:76). We may presuppose then,

455
that the major Pechenegian headquarters may still be found by archaeolo-
gists.
From the written sources we have information only of one para-
mount Pechenegian chief, this chief was named Tirah (Georgius Cedrenus
1647:776). We may presume that the system of government in the
Pechenegian society still retained some corporate aspect (Bruno mentioned
the term "elders" exclusively in the plural: Kochin 1936). Probably the
Pecheneg of the Xth century had a tribal confederation structured quite
closely along the lines of a complex chiefdom, and therefor had the poten-
tial capacity to develop into a chiefdom, if a gifted leader (such as Tirah or
Kegen) should arise (Georgius Cedrenus 1647:776).

REFERENCES CITED.
Anna Komnina 1996. Aleksiada. Ed. by Ya.N. Ljubarskij. Sankt-Petersburg: Aletejja.
Baskakov, N.A. 1960. Turkskie jazyki [The Turkic languages]. Moskva: Izdatelstvo
vostochnoj literatuty.
Georgius Cedrenus 1647. Georgii Cedreni Compendium historiarum a mundo condito
et excerpta ex breviario historico Ioannis Scylitzae curopalatae ex versione
Guillelmi Xylandry cum eiusdem annotationibus… Pariis: Typographia Regia.
Golden, P.B. 1990. The peoples of the south Russian Steppes. Cambridge History of
Early Asia Ed. by D.Sinor. Cambridge: 256-285.
Klyashtornyj, S.G. 1964. Drevnetjurkskije runicheskije pamjatniki kak istochnik po
istorii Srednei Azii [The ancient Turkic runes as a sources in the history of Mid-
dle Asia]. Moscow: Nauka.
Kradin, N.N. 1992. Kochevye obshchestva [Nomadic Societies] Vladivostok: Dal-
nauka.
Kradin, N.N. 1995a. The Origins of the State Among the Pastoral Nomads. Etnohis-
torische Wege und Lehrjahre eines Philosophen. Festschrift fur Lawerence
Krader zun 75. Geburstag. Hrsg. D.Schorkowitz. Frankfurt am Main: 163-177.
Kradin, N.N. 1995b. Vozhdestvo: sovremennoje sostojanije i problemy izuchenija
[Chiefdom: the modern problems of researches]. Rannije formy politicheskoj or-
ganizatsiii. Ed. by V.A.Popov. Moscow: 11-61.
Kradin, N.N. 1996. Imperiia Hunnu [The Hsiung-nu Empire]. Vladivostok: Dalnauka.
Litavrin, G.G. 1991 (ed.). Konstantin Bagryanorodnyj Ob upravlenii imperijej [On
the Governing of Empire]. 2nd ed. Moscow: Nauka.
Novosel´tsev, A.P. 1965. Vostochnyje istochniki o vostochnyh slavjanah i Rusi VI-IX
vv. [The eastern sources on the eastern Slavs and Rus' in VI-IX centuries].
Drevnerusskoje gosudarstvo i ego mezhdunarodnoje znachenie Ed. by
V.T.Pashuto, L.V.Cherepnina. Moscow: 355-420.

456
26

MONGOLIAN NOMADIC SOCIETY


OF THE EMPIRE PERIOD

Tatyana D. Skrynnikova

Scholars have not yet come to a definite answer regarding the ab-
sence or presence of the state among the Mongols. This is an issue under
discussion not only among mongologists but among nomadologists in gen-
eral (cf. Kradin 1992). The study of the internal workings of the develop-
ment of Mongolian society is not only important in itself, but could also
contribute to refining our typologies of medieval nomadic societies. Apply-
ing the Mongolian data to problem of nomadic empire statehood is very
promising, because these data are better preserved than for any other no-
madic structure of a similar level of complexity. What is more, the respec-
tive sources are rather authentic, as they are frequently simultaneous with
the events they describe, or were composed not long after the relevant
events.
I would suggest considering this problem in two aspects: first the
question of the presence or absence of statehood among the Mongols
proper, and second the problem of the statehood of the Mongol Empire.
The Mongol Empire appears to have had certain characteristics of the state
(territorial organization, taxation system, and administrative apparatus), but
of an exopolitarian nature, as those institutes were aimed at the exploitation
of the sedentary population of the conquered states - and this should be a
subject of special research. The aim of his paper is to describe the charac-

457
teristics of the social organization and structure of Mongol society proper at
the peak of its military activity.
The differences among the definitions offered for Mongol political
organization (state, early state, or tribal confederation) stem from different
approaches towards interpreting the term ulus which reflected a certain
level of ethnosocial organization. It is also necessary to mention that most
theoretically orientated scholars use for their study of the Mongol society
structure European language translations of "Secret History" which no
doubt introduces additional mistakes into the interpretation of relevant
terms. For this study I have singled out a few terms related to the Mongol
social organization and analyzed the relations between them within the
texts in order to determine the relations between the forms and phenomena
of social organization, which those terms denoted.
The most important role appears to have been played by the clan
(obog), affiliation to which was determined by the kinship links expressed
through the term urug. A group of people denoted by this term may exist
within the clan (obog), but may also split from it constituting a new clan.
As a part of a clan, urug denotes lineage, and as such this term is used most
frequently in the text of the "Secret History". It was necessary to be a
kinsman (urug) in order to have the right to take part in the clan sacrificial
ritual at the burial place. The clan rituals could only be performed by the
members of the respective clans, and the regulation of the performance of
such rituals was one of the clan functions.
The second clan function among the Mongols of this age was, no
doubt, control over exogamy. In addition to the prescribed dual-clan mar-
riage typical for the pre-Chinggis age, a new form of marriage appeared in
the age of Chinggis Khan. This form broke the duality rule, as wives could
now be taken from the other clans (in addition to the prescribed one). But
the break of the duality and the consequent expansion of marriage links did
not abolish the rule of the clan exogamy - the ban on taking a wife from
within one's own clan. "The Secret History" shows both the change of the
Mongol social structure, and the continuity of the clan function.
One can also trace in "The Secret History" the relation between the
notions obog and irgen. This relation is expressed in the fact that the clan
becomes the basis of another social unit which takes the clan's name. This
form is denoted in the source as irgen, ulus or ulus irgen, where those

458
terms appear to be virtually synonymous. The use of two different words
derived from the languages of two different linguistic groups (Turkic ulus
and Manchurian irgen) with the same meaning is explained by the complex
polyethnic composition of the Mongols who were in this age at the stage of
active ethnogenesis. In the Mongolian source the term irgen is also used to
denote, for example, the Tatars in general and particular groups of the
Tatars, the Mongols and the Kiyats (a part of the Mongols); the forest peo-
ples in general, or, say, one of these peoples, the Tumats &c. All this testi-
fies that here we are dealing with a rather typical cross-cultural phenome-
non. E.g. in the Byzantine sources the term ethnos was used to denote both
all the Hunns in general and their parts - the Avars, the Sabirs &c. Herodo-
tus used the term ethnos both for all the Scythians in general and for sepa-
rate peoples living in Scythia. The social unit denoted with the Mongolian
terms irgen and ulus was not a state. Both these terms are very close in
their meaning to the Greek ethnos with its meanings "people, ethnic group,
tribe". The study of the terms irgen and ulus which were used both in the
ethnic and political senses has shown that in Mongol society of this age,
political consciousness coincided with ethnic consciousness, which wit-
nesses to the undifferentiated character of the social consciousness and the
pre-state organization of the Mongol society. The identity of ethnic and po-
litical consciousness is witnessed not only by the ethnic/political polysemy
of the above-mentioned terms, but also by the partial identity of their mean-
ing with the meaning of the term obog.
The taxonomical hierarchy could be presented in this case in the fol-
lowing manner: urug (lineage) - obog (clan) - irgen ulus (tribe). In the
meantime the same ethnic name, ethnonym could be used with any of those
terms and in this way it could be transformed into a politonym, a name of
political entity - as a group of clans evolved from an ethnic linguistic-
cultural entity into a more or less consolidated socio-political entity whose
name was normally derived from the name of the ruling clan. Urug, being at
one time a lineage within a conical clan, could split from it and form a sepa-
rate clan.
The relation between the phenomena denoted by those terms is as
follows: urug is marked by patrilinial kinship and thus can be viewed as a
rather homogeneous structure, obog (the Mongolian clan) was also patri-
linial and, hence, apparently homogenous; yet it included some persons who

459
entered it without having the patrilinial kinship relations with the other clans-
folk (e.g. through marriage), thus this homogeneity was far from being abso-
lute. Both of these terms denoted first of all ethnocultural entities.
The terms irgen and ulus denoted heterogenous socio-political enti-
ties, whose aristocracy was constituted by the ruling clan, and which also
gave their names to the whole irgen/ulus. The limits of the entities denoted
as irgen ulus were determined not through territorial borders, though these
were relatively clear, but through the individuals who led their constituent
parts. Personal affiliation to such an entity was fixed in the genealogy.
Within one conical clan, relations of domination were structured by the
place of the lineage heads in the genealogical table, whereas special sig-
nificance within the clan belonged to its senior and junior members, which
were marked terminologically in a special way. Within an undifferentiated
society the social structure itself determined the character of the organiza-
tion, as it consisted of taxons which were hierarchically differentiated when
roles of each social unit were determined. Kinship was the main criterion of
the political organization not only vertically (the taxon hierarchy), but also
horizontally (the relations of the ethnosocial units of the same structural
level. The forms of relations typical for such a society - which were ex-
pressed in the anda terms ("father - son", "senior brother - junior brother) -
witness to the point that this is a basically stateless organization, as the re-
lations between ethnosocial units within it were regulated through the sys-
tem of kinship terms.
The absence of the formal institutions of political power standing
outside the clan traditions, of a fixed law system, of a taxation system (the
text of "The Secret History" does not mention the term alba, used later to
denote tax, or any other word with this meaning), as well as the division of
Mongols according to clans, and not territory make it possible to denote the
Mongol society of the Empire Period as a supercomplex chiefdom (a proto-
state entity where a particularly important role was played by chiefs with
their military retinue and the council of the ethnosocial leaders - the khuril-
tai).
The supreme ruler contributed objectively to overcoming resistance
to the processes of social consolidation. It seems possible to note the co-
existence of two trends: 1) the liquidation of those chiefs who opposed the
political centralization process; the use by the new leader in his administra-

460
tion of the already existing clan system and the mechanisms stemming
from the clan-communal tradition, where even the so-called military
"decimal" system dubbed the clan one and did not reflect the actual number
of the warriors. Typologically speaking in this period of the Mongol poli-
togenesis one observes a combination of two directions: a) the military ap-
proach to politogenesis when power was seized by military leaders on the
basis of a military democracy and military retinue, and b) the aristocratic
approach when power was concentrated by the traditional tribal leaders
(Kubbel 1988: 134-136). Kubbel's classification seems to be identical with
Weber's idea of the charismatic and traditional forms of domination.
Both types of power relations - traditional and charismatic - were re-
flected in the division of the Mongol rulers in two groups. The first group
consisted of the hereditary aristocracy - beki, ebugen, ecige &c; The second
included those political leaders who achieved political power because of
their personal qualities - khan, ba'atur, mergen &c. However there was no
sharp distinction between those two groups, first of all because all the rul-
ers where leaders through their possession of charisma. The difference was
that the rulers of the first type inherited the charisma as clan elders de-
scending from the ancestor chosen by Heaven, whereas leaders of the sec-
ond type started new lines of power inheritance, though they often be-
longed to the collateral branches of the same genealogy, being descendants
of the clan founder, but not the senior one. In their turn they fixed their
rights in the traditional way, through genealogies; thus for purposes of the
justification of one's right to rule, two types of legitimization were used,
traditional and charismatic.
A special place in the military hierarchy belonged to the possessor of
the title khan. At the beginning of the epoch of instability and active eth-
nopolitical reconstruction, this title was a marker of the supreme power
within the Confederation, determined through election of the supreme
leader by the council of the Confederation leaders, with the monopolization
of the supreme power by one clan (the one of Chinggis Khan). It then be-
comes hereditary and acquires a dynastic character, as the reign of Ching-
gis Khan descendants continues up to the 20th century. The right to rule
which belonged to them was confirmed by genealogy that might sometimes
have been fictive, as with Dayan Khan who led the Mongols in the 15th
century. The affiliation to the clan of Chinggis Khan ("the Golden Clan")

461
was determined not only by transmission of the supreme power within the
Confederation according to the right of primogeniture with the inheritance
of the title khan/khaghan, but also through the marking of their members
(till the 20th century) with the title Taiji.
An important role in the power structure of Mongol society was
played by the Council - khuriltai. In the 12th century this was the meeting
of confederation leaders on a supratribal level, and was at first conducted in
order to elect the supreme leader of the confederation, whose role became
more and more important with the expansion of conquests. With the growth
of Chinggis Khan’s power, and later that of his descendants, khuriltai was
transformed into a sort of "family council" including the members of the
ruling lineage and their military retinue (nukers) who were summoned for
the enthronement of the new supreme leader or to choose the direction of a
new military campaign. The annual meetings of the members of the ruling
lineage (or the conic clan as a whole) for the performance of the New Year
rites were also called khuriltai. The chief stood out of the society as its
manifestation, concentrating within himself the relation of this society to its
land and ancestors who secured its well-being and was responsible for it
flourishing. That is why it is especially important to study the role of the
political leader in the ritual life of the society.
First of all it seems necessary to mention that the rituals were of two
types: stabilizing rituals ("rituals of beginning") and corrective rituals. The
rituals of the second type were performed by the black shaman, whereas the
rituals of the first (most socially significant) type could be performed by
various persons even within one ethnic group. One can trace the Mongol
world’s characteristic division into the West and the East Areas up to the
1st millennium BC when the border between two Areas ran along Khangai.
One finds that burial mound culture connected with Europeoids to the west
of it, while the culture of the slab burials, "Deer Stones" and hereksurs was
connected with the Mongoloids to the east. This division seems to remain
in the traditional culture of the Mongol peoples up to the present as regards
rituals and their performers. Within the Eastern Mongolian tradition (as in
the East Asian tradition in general) the khan combines political and ritual
functions, i.e. the secular leader performs the most socially significant ritu-
als, which distinguish this from the West Asian tradition where one ob-
serves a division of functions (cf. e.g. brahmans versus kshatris). The same

462
could be traced in the East Mongolian and East Buryatian traditions where
the ritual function is separated from the political, and is performed by the
white shaman. The ruler performed regular "center reproducing" rituals -
the enthronement, the New Year, summer and autumn taylgans. All the
above-mentione rituals included the rites connected with the cults of
Heaven, the landowning spirits, the banner, and the fire which also had
some relation to the ancestor cults. These regular rituals had a stabilizing
character and represented a symbolic repetition of the act of creation sanc-
tioning the new order.
According to Mongol notions the ruler possessing the greatest sa-
credness played a civilizing role towards the whole world. Such a univer-
sality stemmed from the universality of Heaven whose son he was. This
role was actualized in two important aspects of the ritual. First, the ritual
was performed by the secular political leader - the ruler, the leader &c - of
the traditional or charismatic type. Secondly, the ritual was always per-
formed in the places which were either considered the center of the world
(a certain mountain, or petroglyph, or tree), or were modelled as such with
some special attributes (trees stuck in the earth, banner, obo, hitching post
&c). In any case both the natural and artificial center of the world was con-
nected with the cult of the ancestors who are always situated in the cener of
the cosmological model of the world. This is based on the idea that cha-
risma can be preserved on earth, in the society after the death of its owner,
and can manifest itself in various things - both in the anthropomorphic im-
ages made from various materials - like felt, metal, stone, wood, and in
other ritual attributes - like posts, drums, banners, spears, stones.
One of the Mongolian terms denoting the ruler's charisma is sulde ,
which in Mongolian ritual texts is characterized as temur-un qadaqasun
("the iron pillar"), or toru-yin qadaqasun ("the pillar of toru"), i.e. as the
center of the world. Taking into consideration the importance of the notion
of toru and the fact that nobody appears to have paid sufficient attention to
it, I find it necessary to dwell upon it particularly. In "The Secret History"
the term is used in the following cases:
§ 121. "...for me, who has predicted such a high rank for you " (Kozin, 1941: 107)
(toru-yi ji'aqsan gu'un-ni nimayi (Rachewiltz 1972: 51)). My translation: "... for me,
for me, for the person who has manifested the Highest Law for you").
§ 178. "Have I only forgotten the son? I have forgotten the law of truth" (Kozin
1941: 136) (ko'ub-ece'en qaqacaqu-ju toro-dece qaqacaba (Rachewiltz 1972: 90)).
463
No doubt, the implication is that Wang Khan has deviated from the Highest Law.
§ 208. My translation: "I am thinking about the Great Law" (yeke tore setkiju
(Rachewiltz 1972: 119)). qaqacaqsan ulus qamtutqaqsan-u butaraqsan ulus bugut-
gelduksen tusas-u inu toro setkiju...minu uruq bidan-u oro sa'uju ene metu tusa kik-
sen toro setkiju (Rachewiltz 1972: 119-120). My translation: "/While thinking
about/ the help in the unification of the divided ulus, the disunited ulus, I think
about the Law...The fact that my urug is sitting on our throne is /the result of the
fact that/ I think of the Law, which has brought this help").
§ 216. "According to the Mongolian Truth we have a custom of the elevation to the
rank of noyan - beki" (Kozin 1941: 166) (mongqol-un toro noyan mor beki bolqui
yosun aju'ui (Rachewiltz, 1972: 125)). My translation: "The Mongol Law is that the
way of noyan is to become beki"). In this paragraph yosun and toru are synonyms.
§ 220. "But as you insist that you did not dare make any harm to your khan, then
this means that you did not forget the Law, the Great Truth, Yeke Toro" (Kozin
1941: 168) (tende tus qan-iyan tebcin yadaqsan yosu yeke toro-yi setkiju'ui
(Rachewiltz 1972: 127)). In this paragraph yosun and toru are synonyms.
§ 263, which mentions "the town laws (toru)" of the Central Asian cities (Kozin
1942: 189).
§ 281. "/Ugedey is saying/: I recognize my guilt that because of an irrational sense
of revenge I destroyed a man, who ... surpassed all in the execution of the Truth-
toru" (Kozin 1942: 199) (doro kiciegu (Rachewiltz 1972: 174)).
The above-mentioned data show the different meanings of toru. On
the one hand, toru is a synonym of yosun (§§ 216, 220), when both terms
denote customary law. The use of two terms to denote one notion is ex-
plained by the same cause as in the case of ulus and irgen. In this case toru
is a Turkic word whereas yosun is Manchurian. And the last word has the
main meaning of "customary law". However, on the other hand, toru has a
different meaning. It seems possible to say that toru is something which is
possible to know, to perceive, to have within (setkiku - §§ 208, 220), it may
be manifested to the others, and in this way the Great Will (Law) is mani-
fested - jiqaqu (§ 121). But within one's activities one might deviate from
the Law - qaqacaqu (§ 178). Thus it is possible to maintain that toru is
what the person must follow in his life, something existing outside his will,
something which is not created by him, but which is given to him from
above and of which he only becomes aware. Even khan does not create toru,
but only follows it. Hence, toru might be rendered as the Highest Law.
It seems that just this meaning of the term may help to understand
the following saying belonging to the Turkic tradition: "The state disap-
pears, /but/ toru remains" (Trepavlov 1993: 41) and leads one to the suppo-

464
sition that in the age of Chinggis Khan this term denoted the Law estab-
lished by Heaven. Here it seems relevant to mention that in the Ancient
Turkic Period this term was used to render the notion of dharma in Ancient
Turkic (DTS: 581). For this context it is important to notice the still sacral-
ized meaning of the Law which secures the observance of order, rules and
norms that in its turn guarantees the harmony in Cosmos, Nature and Soci-
ety, and this is very characteristic of traditional Mongol Society.
The will of Heaven is executed on earth by the supreme ruler (khan).
This relation of the khan with the Highest Law might have been reflected in
the writing of this term in § 281 of "The Secret History" - doro, in tune
with the writing of the word denoting the sacral spear - an attribute of
Chinggis Khan (= an analog of the world tree). The term meaning found in
§§ 121, 178, 208, 281 is connected with the markers of the center. "Ching-
gis Khan, being in the center the Ordos Tumen (which seems to mean the
sacred center of the Mongols - Ejen-Khoro, where the relics of Chinggis
Khan are stored - T.S.), became the ruler of a multitude of uluses" (Ordos
tumen-iyen toblen sagugsan, Olan ulus-un ejen bolugsan Cinggis-qagan"
(Rintchen 1959: 67)).
The study of ritual texts also confirms my supposition on the special
place of toru in the Mongol perception of the functioning of society. First
of all toru is connected with those attributes which mark the center: "the
four-koltu black banner which has become the iron pillar, the bedrock of
toru" (toru-yin tusiy-e temur-un gadagasun bolugsan ... dorben koltu qar-a
tug (Rintchen 1959: 70)); "the four-koltu great banner (sulde, cf. tug of the
previous passage - T.S.), which has become the pillar (the mediator having
the functions of the World Tree - T.S.) of toru ... the great sulde (cha-
risma-- T.S.) of the sacred ruler (Chinggis Khan -T.S.), which became the
bedrock of toru, which has materialized in the nine-koltu white banner
(toru-yin gadagasun bolugsan...bey-e-yin tusig bolugsan...dorben koltu
yeke qar-a sulde toru-yin tusig bolugsan...yesun koltu cagan tug-iyen
bosqaju...bogda ejen-u yeke sulde (Rintchen 1959: 74); "the sacred queen
(bogdo qatun) ... - the bedrock of toru" (toru-yin tusiy-e...bogdo qatun
(Rintchen 1959: 98)).
To my mind, the connection of toru with the four-koltu banner acting
as its mediator is confirmed by the saying used by now by several ethnic
groups of the Buryat of which I was kindly informed by G.R.Galdanova:

465
sajin gurban koltei toru dorben koltei (literally "religion has three legs, and
toru has four of them"). This implies numerologically the supremacy of
toru over religion. The bedrocks of the religion are Buddha, the teaching
and the community, whereas in the second part of this saying one could see
a clear analogy with the four-koltu banner. In the prayers one can find the
following synonymous row to the black banner (qara sulde-yin ocig): the
pillar of toru (toru-yin gadagasun) - the bedrock of toru (toru-yin tusig) -
the great charisma (yeke suu jali) (Rintchen 1959: 73-74).
Being situated in the sacred center of the society, toru has some ten-
dency of growing, enlarging, expanding. This is defined as "ample happy
toru" (arbin sayin toru (Rintchen 1959: 87, 102, 106)); "growing toru" (or-
gejiku toru (Rintchen 1959: 87, 99, 101, 103, 106)).
Toru was directly connected with the ruler, who obtained (or ac-
cepted) it. Chinggis Khan is mentioned in the following way: "Chinggis
Khan who was born by Heaven, who obtained toru of the peoples of the
World" (delekei-yin ulus-un toru-yi abugsan tngrlig Cinggis-qagan
(Rintchen 1959: 63)). The obtaining of toru by the ruler (= Chinggis Khan)
let to control over those people led by the other, defeated ruler: "Chinggis
Khan ... having obtained toru of Wang Khan took possession of numerous
kereits and ruled /them/" (Ong qagan-u toru-yi abugsan, olan kereyid-i
ejelen medegsen Cinggis qagan (Rintchen 1959: 63)). This stemmed from
the point that the ruler's toru was also toru of the respective society:
"Chinggis Khan who obtained toru of Dayan Khan, the ruler of the Nai-
mans, who obtained toru of all the great ulus" (Naiman Dayan qagan-u
toru-yi abugsan Narmai yeke ulus-un toru-yi abugsan...Cinggis-qagan
(Rintchen 1959: 63)).
Thus, the narrative data demonstrate that, according to traditional no-
tions of the medieval Mongols, the ruler’s performance of the regulatory
functions within society is ensured by his special relation to toru - the
Highest Law which is manifested by Heaven through him. This form of le-
gitimization might be denoted as "sacred law" (meaning A of toru) which
regulated the relations "society - cosmos".
The above-mentioned synonymity of toru and yosun leads one to the
supposition that these terms were used to denote the unwritten customary
law (meaning B of toru), the traditions and customs which regulated rela-
tions within the society.

466
Sometimes (see § 227) the terms of group B are connected with the
terms of the inchoate civil law (group B): "decree (jasag, jarlig) issued in
accordance with the tradition (toru, yosun)". The most widely used term
was jasag. Some of its meanings help to determine the semantic field of the
term: 1) to dispose, to rule; the judicial sphere seems to be implied here as
well, as the legislative, executive and judicial powers were not separated;
2) administration, supervision, government; 3) command, decree, order.
The last meaning is more or less identical with the term jarlig (for more de-
tail see Rachewiltz 1993). It seems that the point is not that in the age of
Chinggis Khan a new form of legitimization emerged (Jasag). It is not
clear (and solution of the problem does not appear to be possible for the
time being) if all the decisions of Chinggis Khan in a Code of Laws during
his life, or the Great Jasag were worked out by his descendants in the Near
East.
However, it seems possible to maintain quite confidently that this
type of law stemmed from the will of the secular leader, and for the age of
Chinggis Khan this was not a code of laws, worked out by professional ju-
rists on the basis of articulated legal practice. All the extant passages from
Jasag deal with the particular issues being frequently written references to
the working customary law; they did not determine the basic principles of
Mongol social life. To my mind, this is inchoate written law - the ruler's
decrees - the initial stage of the transition from customary law to civil law.
This is connected to one more genre denoted by the notion word
(uge) of the ruler. For example, it was according to the word of Khabul
Khan that Ambaghay Khan became the Mongols' leader (Kozin 1941: 84),
and according to his word Khutula became the Khan (Kozin 1941: 85).
The actual absence of a state structure among the Mongols led to the
disintegration of the Empire after the death of its founder, because during
his lifetime its different parts did not constitute an economic or political
unity, whereas the social unity was based on the affiliation of the leaders of
the ethnic-political formations to one conical clan. The description of Mon-
gol society of this age shows that contrary to some scholars' insistence
upon the Mongol clan being amorhpic, its difference from the classical clan
organization, it remained a rather homogeneous structure comprising the
blood-kin (outmarried women never became members of their husbands'
clans; they could not take part in clan rituals). The rigorous counting of de-

467
scent was necessary, because the Mongol clan (obog) performed the cult
functions, and the function of marriage regulator; also the counting of jun-
ior and senior lineages secured the internal stratification of the clans. The
relations of domination were marked through the use of kinship terms (fa-
ther - son, senior brother - junior brother) for ethnosocial group leaders in
those cases when they were not regulated by genealogies, i.e. when they
belonged to different kinship groups. The performance by the clan of its
social and ritual functions was ensured by its leader - the bearer of the clan
charisma, who occupied in the sacral center of the clan community. The
leading role of the clan in the social life of the Mongol medieval society
makes it possible to consider the core of the nomad empires as a super-
complex chiefdom (for detail see Skrynnikova 1997 and Chapter 24). When
choosing the term to denote the respective level of political organization I
have decided to avoid the use of the term state, because it appears impossi-
ble to find its main characteristics among the Mongols.

REFERENCES CITED
DTS - Drevnetyurkskiy slovаr’ [Ancient Turks Dictionary]. Leningrad: Nauka.
Kozin, S.A. 1941. Sokrovennoe skаzаnie: Mongol’skаya hronikа 1240 g. [The Secret
History of the Mongols]. Moscow-Leningrad.
Kradin, N.N. 1992. Kochevye obshchestvа [Nomadic Societies]. Vlаdivostok: Dal-
nauka, 1992.
Kubbel', L.E. 1988. Ocherki potestarno-politicheskoi ethnographii [Essay of political
anthropology]. Moscow: Nauka.
de Rachewiltz, I. 1972. Index to the Secret History of the Mongols. Indiana University
Publications. Uralic and Altaic Series. Bloomington. Vol.121.
de Rachewiltz, I. 1993. Some Reflections on Chinggis Qan’s jasag. East Asian History.
Canberra, N 6, dec.
Rintchen, B. 1959. Materiaux pour l’etude du chamanisme mongol. T.1. Wiesbaden.
Skrynnikova, T.D. 1997. Kharisma i vlast' v epokhu Chinggis-khana [Charisma and
Power During the Epoch of Chinggis Khan]. Moscow: Vostochnaia literatura.
Trepavlov, V.V. 1993. Gosudаrstvennyy stroy Mongol’skoy imperii XIII v. [The State
structure of the Mongolia Empire in 13th century]. Moscow: Nauka.

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27

THE MANGYT BIY AS A CROWNED CHIEF:


CHIEFDOMS IN THE NOMADIC HISTORY OF
LATE MEDIEVAL WESTERN EURASIA*

Vadim V. TREPAVLOV

The definition of the social status and the functions of a prominent


social leader (bearer of plenary powers) are of great importance for the ty-
pology of early states and chiefdoms. The extent of these plenary powers,
as well as the organization of how they are used serves as a basic criterion
for attributing a society to one of the categories of chiefdoms (simple,
complex, supercomplex) or early states (inchoate, typical, transition). To
the best of my knowledge no detailed classification of leadership preroga-
tives and limitations in relation to type of society has yet been worked out
in science, although A. Johnson and T. Earle (1987), A. Khazanov (1984),
H.J.M. Claessen (Claessen and Skalnik 1978 etc.) have undertaken analy-
ses of those formal indications that make it possible to distinguish among
political structures, including those related to the principles of leadership.
Until recently, the world of mediaeval nomads was outside the focus
of this kind of neo-evolutionist research. These authors paid most attention
to the power and political structures of settled societies of the New and Old
Worlds. Even so, they constructed sociological patterns and, as is tradi-
tional in scholarly research, worked out the criteria and gradations for vari-
ous categories of chiefdoms and states. It was assumed as self-evident (and
never mentioned for the sake of the 'purity of the experiment') that any so-
cium is an extremely complicated system, having all the parameters of the
various stages of social development represented either as elements or ru-
diments. The accepted Russian term for phenomena of the kind is uklad

*
This work is accomplished under the support of the Russian State Foundation for
Humanities(# 97-01-00099a).
469
(socio-economic system) which has been adopted by socio-economic re-
searchers as well. As to di-stadial structures - they still have no similar uni-
versally acknowledged term. That is why, for the time being, we have to
use ordinary synonyms to denote them (e.g., each compound chiefdom has
certain characteristics features, elements, parametres, etc. of a common
chiefdom).
These scholastic-sounding notes are of great importance for no-
madology. It is generally known that nomadic economy was unstable due
to the influence of environmental changes and political cataclysms. Stadial
variability was, correspondingly, an inherent characteristic of pastoral so-
cieties. There are numerous typologically similar examples of nomadic
uluses having grown into potent steppe powers which later disintegrated,
returning to the initial stage of nomadic uluses. One may suppose a priori,
before examining each concrete case, that the organization of every ulus
contained a potential enabling it to transform into a nomadic empire. Such
a potential stayed in a kind of 'lethargy' waiting for suitable conditions to
arise. This suggestion apparently holds true not only for nomadic societies.
Unlike settled civilizations they were characterized by the presence of
characteristic features, elements, parameters, etc. (as above-mentioned)
from the various stages of development. When an aggregation of agricul-
tural communities reaches the level of statehood, the traits of the previous
developmental levels gradually begin to die out because of no longer being
necessary in the new order. The society establishes its new characteristics
ever more strictly and perfects its new condition. The remaining traces of
the previous social history therefore weaken and, at last, disappear com-
pletely.
It is all very different with the nomads. Even when in the stage of the
early state, for example, they would not allow their chiefdom features to
die out, since any pandemia of plague or enemy aggression could annihilate
their unstable statehood and cause them to go back to some earlier stage of
development. The point here lies, of course, not in the ingenuous foresight
of the nomads, but in the fact that their total social organization is objec-
tively preadapted to such upheavals.
Thus, the nomadic world possessed the combination and simultane-
ous presence of parameters from all types of chiefdoms and state. Over one
and a half thousand years of the Christian era, the historical conditions re-

470
peatedly offered the inhabitants of the Eurasian steppes a choice from any
of these social forms. The status of the leader among nomadic peoples may
serve as an illustration of combined existence of the ways of potential de-
velopment.
In the present essay the ruler of the Nogay Horde is discussed. There
is much evidence that this horde was a supercomplex chiefdom (Trepavlov
1995:150; on the supercomplex chiefdom see also Chapter 24). So its leader
occupied an intermediate position between that of a leader of a complex
chiefdom (aggregate of communities) and that of a monarch. Let us exam-
ine his status in relation to the key parameters: title, relationships with the
Nogay aristocracy and with neighboring rulers, substantiation of power and
authority, functions, property status.
The Nogay leader's title was the word Biy. It was a late Eastern Qyp-
chaqian form of the all-Turkic beq, fixed in documents not earlier than the
15th-16th century (Barthold 1968: 36, 399), side by side with an interim
variant biq (Akhmetz 1991: 67). Beq (biy) served as a synonym of the Ara-
bic and Persian amir and the Mongolian noyon. Hence the term signified
belonging to the sort of nobility with a position lower than a dynastic gov-
erning one (the latter used the titles khan, sultan, ogan, tore). The underde-
velopment of the system of the social gradations in nomadic societies led to
a polysemy in titles. Biy could mean in different regions either a clan elder
(the Baskirs and the Kazakhs (Kuzeev 1960:179; Sultanov 1982:99) or a
tribal head, a nominal tribal representative at khan's court (Crimean and
Khasimov khanate (Velyaminov-Zernov 1864:410), or a superior official
after a khan (the Golden Horde, Uzbeq khanate (Usmanov 1972:92), or
simply a command in the broad sense (Barthold 1968: 502).
In the Nogay Horde the power was held by biy Edige's clan from the
Mangyt tribe. At the end of the 14th century Edige had managed to take
hold in the steppes near Yaik river, and become -- with the help of Timur,
who destroyed the Golden Horde -- the virtual ruler of the Dzhuchids' em-
pire. The descendants of Edige held key military posts in late-Horde khan-
ates and often appointed khans at their own discretion. By the middle of the
15th century the prerogative of the Mangyt nobility to enthonization of
sovereigns Chingisids has been already considered as a tradition and be-
come proverbial amidst Dasht-i-Qypchaqian nomads (Aboul-Ghazi 1871:
189; Ibragimov 1969: 104). By the 1480s the union of the Nogays, i.e.

471
Mangyts and tribes associated with them, was formed. That is what we call
"the Nogay Horde". All the tribes of the Horde were governed originally by
their own biys, as usual; but over all of them stood the Mangyt biy. In addi-
tion, biys existed at the court service (Buganov 1984: 39-40; ussian State
Archive of Ancient Acts. Opis 127. Delo 1. List 4. Sheet 30 (below desig-
nation: Archive 4: 30). In such a paradoxical situation, when a suzerain had
an identical title with that of a multitude of subjects, it was necessary to
find ways to single out the Mangy leader.
The Nogay nobility (mirzas) appealed to the head of the Horde by
means of the expression biy hazrat, that is "knyazhoe velichestvo" (prince's
majesty) in the medieval Russian translation (Archive 1626 1:60-1). Proba-
bly the same semantic shade was sounded in the Crimean khan Mengli Gi-
ray’s address to biy Musa in 1492: "velichestvu tvoyemu schastlivomu" (to
your successful majesty) (Karpov 1884: 154). Nogay messages to
neighbouring sovereigns demonstrated a distinction of a supreme biyship
most clearly (the ogays named it biyliq - see the Arabic-written original of
mirza Jan Muhammad's petition to tsar Mikhail Feodorovich, January 10,
1641 (Archive 1640 11: 3). Though almost all such petitions are preserved
only in the form of translations, one can imagine he amplitude of biys' pre-
tensions to the status. The rather unassuming formula "bolshovo v
knyazekh Sid Akhmatovo knyazhoye slovo" (the word of prince Sid
Akhmat, the greatest of princes) in 1535 (Archive 2: 114) shows merely
Sayid Achmad's primacy among the rest of biys. His nephew Urus having
mounted the throne in 1578, introduced himself more comprehensively:
"Mangytskogo gosudarya ot Urusa knyazya" (from prince Urus, Mangyt
sovereign) (1578, 1581 - Archive 8: 230v; 10: 86v). In this case the title al-
ready outlines territorial and ethnic limits of the power. Mangyt here was a
synonym of "Nogay", because in 1579 Urus declared to a Russian envoy:
"Yaz v nagayskoy zemle knyaz 'i gosudar' vsei zemle nagaiskoy" (I am a
prince in the Nogay and a sovereign for the whole Nogay land) (Archive 9:
152v). A more arrogant term was contained in biy's Ismail's letter to Ivan
IV, 1560: "Vsem tatarom gosudarya ot Ismaila knyazya" (from prince Is-
mail, the sovereign of all Tatars) (Archive : 4v, 190v).
However, neither biys nor their Russian addressors had any illusions
about the real extent of power "in Nogays". The most magnificent titles
were conferred by biys in times of relative stability of their Horde, and in

472
times of its greatest strength and influence. We can regard the reigns of
Sayid Akhmad and Sheykh Mamay as the culmination of power, that is
1520s-1540s. Sheykh Mamay dared even to borrow the designation of his
throne from the Osmanish sultan. There was the following sentence in Rus-
sian translation of his message: "Vysochayshego poroga gosudarya i
povelitelya, ot voina ot blagochestnago Shikh Mamaya knyazya" (from the
sovereign and commander of the Highest Threshold, the devout warrior
prince Shikh Mamay) (Archive 3:18-18v).
An official complete title of the Nogay ruler was ulubiy, equivalent
to the golden-horde notions of amir al-umara and beqlaribeq, having not
been used in the Nogay Horde. Velikiy knyaz (i.e. grand prince = ulubiy) as
a rule accompanied the name eqlaribeq Edige, the ancestor of Nogay biys
(see f.e. Priselkov 1950: 468; PSRL 1897: 205; 1903: 14; 1911: 425; 1994:
140). Sayid Akhmad was also titled velikiy knyaz in Russian translations of
Nogay documents (Archive 2: 16), and the post of biy - "bolshoye knyaz-
henye" (grand princedom) that fully corresponded to the word-
combinations ulugh beqliq, ulu biyliq and amir al-umaralyq (the latter was
restored by H. Inalcik in accordance with the sultan's message to biy Yusuf;
Inalcik 1948:359). The Crimeans sometimes titled the head of the Nogay
Horde in a similar way (Archive 1586 5:5). But it must be said that in
khans Girays' eyes a Nogay ruler never was an equivalent monarch. The
rank of prince allowed him to be at the pedestal of the throne but not side
by side. The Baqchesaray court emphasized repeatedly that an ulubiy was
only a servant (qarachi) of a Crimean khan. This extended to biys who
maintained friendly relation with the Crimean yurt (see f.e. Archive 9:
95v). In 1620 khan Janibeq Giray attmpted, without the Russian tsar's
knowledge, to appoint one of the mirzas to the vacant place of a supreme
biy, and at the same time the khan "uchinil sebe ... bolshim svoim boyari-
nom i dobrym k sebe drugom" (made him his grand boyar and his good
friend (Archive 1619 2: 239).
They considered ulubiy's rank rather low in Turkey as well. Dis-
patches from Istanbul to biy Urus in 1570s-80s titled him only beg mirza,
hakim of the Nogays', bey and mirza of the land of the Grand Nogays
(Bennigsen 1967: 83, 85), and biy Yusuf d his back was nominated all the
more "one of Nogay beys" (Bennigsen, Lemercier-Quelquejay 1972: 226).
Russian sovereigns always titled Nogay leaders only knyaz and de-

473
pending on the state of affairs, sometimes their brother, sometimes a friend
or a servant (kholop). So, in the middle of the 16th century grand dukes
ruled both in Moscow and in the Nogay capital Sarayjuq. When Ivan the
Terrible acquired the degree of tsar, this became a fundamental develop-
ment in the elimination of official equality between them (Trepavlov 1994:
57-8). Against the background of tsars of Kazan, Astrakhan, Siberia and
afterwards Moscow, trans-Volga rulers were considered only knyazhata
nogayskiye (descendants of the prince of the Nogays, i.e. Edige) (Kurbsky
1914: 173, 177).
Now let us examine the status of ulubiy within the Horde. Close kin-
ship ties within the clan of Edige gave the appearance of patriarchality to
relations among its members. Despite a widely varying degree of kinship
with a biy, mirzas considered him as their "father and uncle" (see e.g. Ar-
chive 4: 113, 169, 383). Therefore formally he was ranked as a clan elder,
the patriarch of the Mangyt tribe. As regards neighbors, he attempted to
prove himself an absolute sovereign. Urus's words about his sovereignty in
Nogay land were quoted above; mirzas were characterized as "kholopi
moi" (my slaves) in the same tirade (Archive 9: 152v). But in fact a biy
didn't have a practical means of making mirzas obey his will. In 1611, in
reply to the Russian government's suggestion to send Nogay troops against
Poland in help to Russians and to mobilize "ne vsyo okhotnikov, inoye i
nevolnikov" (not only volunteers but also under compulsion), biy Ishtereq
said frankly, that "u nikh Orda samovolnaya ... chto zakhochet, tot i yedet,
a siloyu nikogo poslat' nelze" (they have a willful Horde; everyone can go
of his own free will and no-one can be sent anywhere by force") (Bogoyav-
lensky, Ryabinin 1915: 18). The only thing which Ishtereq could threaten
his mirzas with, was his emigration, moving on "kazakom s ulusom svoim"
(as a Cossack with my subjects) and call to God and the Russian army for
help (Bogoyavlensky, Ryabinin 1915: 21). Mirzas endured his plenary
powers "za starost' i pokamesta on ... silen ulusnymi lyudmi" (for his sen-
iority and till he is strong by the number of his subjects) (Archive 1617 1:
48). As soon as a mirza acquired his own strong and populous ulus (appan-
age) he started to pursue an independent policy. This phenomenon can be
described as a tendency in the 16th century, and was in full force by the
beginning of the 17th century, in the period of the Nogay Horde's disinte-
gration. No wonder that the most important political questions were solved

474
not individually but in council with mighty aristocrats. Such questions in-
cluded all-Horde military actions, relations with foreign monarchs, interna-
tional unions and coalitions.
All the other yurts that appeared on the ruins of the Golden Horde,
were ruled by the suzerains from the ramified Chingisid clan. Not belong-
ing to this clan the heads of the Mangyts-Nogays did not dare to aspire to
khan rank. Theoretically there was one more way to establish the monar-
chical status : creation of a superpower, successful wars that would make
the neighbors recognize any rank pleasing to the Nogays. So, judging by
some hints in the sources, such an attempt was made in the Nogay Horde at
the end of 1530s. After having routed and killed both the Crimean khan in
the west and the Kazakh khan in the east, the Nogays considered them-
selves as having the right to form a power pyramid analogous to adminis-
trative structures in the defeated khanates. Biy Sayid Akhmad in his letter
to Ivan IV declared his intention to take the place of a khan; there the
Crown prince (qalgha) and the Commander-in-Chief (beqlaribeq) were an-
nounced too (Trepavlov 1993b: 47-9). As is well known, none of the
neighboring powers recognized these claims; the Horde leader remaining a
grand duke, but not a khan. Ulubiys had to become reconciled to this fact.
However the administrative machinery was left intact, the Nogays could
only introduce their own names for posts: since they didn't form a legal
khanate - they had no right to arrange an administration inherent to a khan-
ate. European observers in the 16th century, apparently ignoring ulubiy' s
governing prerogatives, spoke of the absence of a sovereign in the Nogay
Horde (Herberstein 1988: 179; Staden 1925: 61).
Attempts to acquire the rank of khan were accompanied by efforts to
substantiate power ideologically. The relics of those "searches for le-
gitimicy" remained in the epos "Edige" put down by G.Ananyev in the 19th
century. When Edige's son Nuradil (Nur a-Din) killed khan Tokhtamysh
and began to rule over subjects himself, the people started to gossip: Tok-
htamysh's origin was from Chingis Khan, but Nuradil "is not from the
tribe". The new ruler answered as follows: "I believed and recognized the
indivisible God from the very my birth. The God protected me himself. I
read many of our holy books. As regards to my not belonging to Chingis
Khan's clan this doesn't humiliate me at all because I am from the glorious
tribe of the Turkic warrior Khocakhmat Babatukla". The people quieted af-

475
ter that speech (Ananyev 1900: 12). In compliance with numerous Nogay
genealogies, Khodja Akhmad Baba-Tuqles was not a warrior but a Moslem
preacher and a descendant of the pious caliph Abu Baqr. So Edige's desen-
dants traced themselves (artificially, of course) to the companion of the
Prophet and thus found a legality of their ruling. Military and political suc-
cesses (due to the protection of God - see Nuradil's words above) ensured
them a necessary charisma. It seemed to be a rather effective factor since
for a whole period of the history of the Nogay Horde there wasn't a single
case of encroachment by any of the heterogeneous nobility upon the au-
thority of Edige's clan.
This religious-and-genealogical combination enhanced the prestige
of Mangyt dynasts in the eyes of their subjects but didn't add them any ad-
ditional respect in international affairs. Invented origins from Abu Baqr
still didn't create a legitimate base for securing a throne since an ulubiy was
not a truly independent sovereign; this post had to be given by some higher
ruler. And so indeed, in the 15th and in the beginning of the 16th century
Mangyt-Nogay biys obtained their posts in such a way. When Sayid
Akhmad and his successor Sheykh Mamay objectively became the pre-
dominant force of the Eastern Eurasia the practice of outside investiture of
ulubiy died away and the Nogays elected their grand duke themselves.
Since the latter nevertheless didn't become a khan, the ceremony of his ele-
vation probably had only a weak resemblance to the coronation. There is no
detailed description of that ritual in the sources. We have only some data
on the principle of elevation: "A vybirali na nagaiskoye knyazhenye murzy
mezh sebya po steeni i po bolshestvu, i sadilis' na knyazhenye v Nagayekh"
(and mirzas elected for the Nogay principality among themselves in accor-
dance with degree and seniority, and (the elected men) ascended the
prince's place in the Nogay Horde) (Archive 1641 5: 7). From the begin-
ning of the 17th century a foreign sovereign's approval was restored. The
Russian tsar confirmed the election of a new biy by mirzas with his deed
while the voevodes (local governors) of Astrakhan worked out the solemn
ceremonial of his introduction to position. In 1600 newly-elected Ishtereq
together with the noblest mirzas were invited to Astrakhan for presentation
of a charter from Moscow. On their arrival the Nogays learned that they
were faced with the action of real accession to throne, "rising to khandom".
The voevodes invented the rising of Ishtereq by the mirzas on a felt width,

476
just as independent Khans-Chingisids were declared in nomadic states (the
Golden Horde, Tatar khanates). The mirzas became lost in reverie: "A ogo
de oni ne vedali, chto yevo, Ishtereq murzu, na knyazhenye pdnyat' na yep-
anche... I iz davnykh de let nikoli togo ne byvalo" (They didn't know that
they would have to rise Ishtereq mirza as a biy. And this had never been
from ancient times). However having consulting for a whole day they
agreed, and the ulubiy for the first time in the Nogay history was raised on
felt (Archive 1641 5: 32-3). The next and last biy Kanay apprehended that
action already without any objections (Archive 1623 1: 01-2).
Turkic and Slavic rulers realized the might of the Nogay Horde and
until the beginning the 17th century did not seek to encroach upon the sov-
ereignty of its chiefs. Within his roaming territory an ulubiy accomplished
administrative functions inherent to any independent nomadic ruler. After
council with the nobility he proclaimed annual routes of roaming, showed
places for settlements to subjugated ils (i.e. tribal communities), confirmed
hereditary rights of mirzas to subjects, "ulus people" (Kalmykov e.a. 1988:
34; Kochekayev 1988: 43; Ponozhenko, Asanov 1993: 119; Archive 5:
220v). Traditionally he exercised the duty of Commander-in-Chief since
formerly an ulubiy (beqlaribeq) was the head of military forces of a khan-
ate. True, in the course of the formation of an administrative system, the
Nogays created their own analog of a commander - beqlaribeq, namely
nuradin, the head of the right wing. In addition to that, the ulubiy carried
out the duty of ensuring the well-being of his own people, or at least, -
some access to enrichment. Eurasian nomads achieved it often with raids of
their settled neighbors. But the Nogays used peaceful ways more fre-
quently,- e.g. barter and levying traditional "Mangyt receipts" forthcoming
from the Kazan and Astrakhan khanate and probably from the the Siberin
yurt. Becoming dependent on Russia, the leaders of the Horde more and
more relied on "gosudarevo zhalovanye" (sovereign's grant), that is - the
money and gifts from Moscow. Biy's ability to organize an influx of such
income served as one of the criteria of his competence. The Nogay leader
many times begged the tsar, Muscovite clerks and Astrakhan voevodes not
to send gifts to mirzas directly, thereby going round the ulubiy. "Ia by iz
ruk svoikh to tvoyo tsarskoye zhalovanye bratye svoyey i plemyannikom, i
detem rozdal... Oni vse u mene kazny prosyat, a u menya kazny net, i dati
im nechevo. I v tom mne byvayet velikoi sorom" (I'd like to distribute your

477
tsar grants for my brothers, nephews and children through my own hands.
All of them ask me for money, and I don't have money so I can't give them
anything. And so I cover myself with great shame) (Archive 1617 3: 11-2).
But there were limits which could not be overstepped even by the puppet
biy of the 17th century with his heavy financial dependence on Russia. His
function of the dispensation of the privileges was a fundamental one. In
1630 biy Kanay heard rumors that certain Nogay Atey received a tarkhan
(tax privilege) from the Russian sovereign. Kanay notified tsar Mikhail Fe-
dorovich that such a situation was incompatible with the rank of biy: "i
tolko, gosudar', tot chelovek stanetsa (tarkhan, - V.T.), i moyemu knyaz-
heniyu byt' nelze" (if only, my Lord, that man becomes a tarkhan, I can't be
a prince) (Archive 1630 3: 19-20, 59).
As we can see, the functions of ulubiy did not differ from the usual
complex of prerogatives of a nomadic ruler, irrespective of concrete titles.
The order of succession of the highest post in the Nogay Horde wasn't
original either. We noted a discrepancy between the officially recognized
system of inheritance in the Mongol empire (clan seniority) and the one ac-
tually in use (tendency to dynastic ruling), in one of our previous works
(Trepavlov 1993a: 102-11). The same collision obviously took place in the
Nogay Horde as well. An ulubiy was formally considered elected "po
stepeni i po bolshestvu" (in accordance with degree and seniority). Claim-
ants to principality adduced the thesis "ya staree vsekh" (I'm oldest) (see
f.e. Ananyev 1900: 23; Archive 16 4 3: 16; 1640 11:3). But in fact each biy
sought to allot power to his sons.
The ulubiy had only his personal appanage under direct control, this
consisting (in accordance with Kanay's reminiscence) of the four uluses -
"Seyit, Khaza, Bazar, Saraichuk" (Archive 1623 3: 15). The town oaychuq,
as a winter residence of the ruler, appeared in sources constantly. "The
people of bazar" were sometimes mentioned (f.e. in Ismail's letter 1562:
they are "v ulusekh moikh oprichennaya kazna moya" (my personal posses-
sion in my uluses) - Archive 2: 12 6: 84v). Apparently the population of
ordu-bazar, i.e. the nomadic (summer) camp of ulubiy, was implied. Seyit
was probably something of an analog of wakuf (church) land under ulubiy's
protection. Khoza (khoja) can't be explained yet because it is mentioned
only once.
The central court was an aggregate of some functionaries who en-

478
gaged generally in financial questions (see in detail: Ponozhenko 1976: 71-
2; 1977: 94-5; 1987: 37). But by the beginning of the 17th century, when
the Horde began to disitegrate, biys had to rely upon just their closest rela-
tives and several scribes; the rest of the official system having disappeared
in the course of political disturbances.
Let's return now to the characteristics of a Nogay leader's rule as
enumerated in the beginning of this article, and try to definite the kind of
social organization he belonged to. The title, with all its oriental decora-
tions, remained on a lower level than that of a khan, i.e. monarch. Nomi-
nally an ulubiy was the first amongst beqs, the military and clan nobility of
Desht-i-Qipchaq. All the neighboring lords including Russian (after the
coronation of Ivan IV) had higher ranks whereas the countries ruled by
them had a correspondingly higher taxonomic category. Khanates were
states, but the Mangyt yurt remained a horde, that is a pre-state formation
with a number of indications of a state. These factors determined the form
of relationships between the Nogay ulubiys and neighboring suzerains.
The legitimacy of the status among the Nogay aristocracy was based
only on mirzas' free-will agreement to submit to a leader. The Nogay leader
didn't have any lawful means of making them execute his orders. He had to
look for non-forcible methods for establishing his power. The first among
these was the non-dynastic substantiation of rights to ruling, i.e. the tracing
of the lineage not to the universally recognized forefather of nomadic mon-
archs - Chingis Khan, - but to the first caliph. Consequently, in this respect
the head of the Nogay Horde could not be considered the equal of the gov-
ernors of neighboring states. His functions, however, coincided on the
whole with those of a khan.
A biy led the army, gathered yasaq (tribute), distributed loot and for-
eign presents among mirzas. Formally he was considered the head of the
whole people representing them in negotiations with the foreign envoys.
Primitive though it was, and concentrated in the person of ulubiy, this
complex of prerogatives was the evidence of the fully formed institution of
central administration. The most dependable support for his authority was
from an autonomous property situation and the presence of his own appan-
age and subjects. It was a domestic economic base that gave every biy an
opportunity and temptation to change the traditional order of succession,
from a clan order to a dynastic order. But a lack of social development as

479
well as frequent disturbances prevented the formation of a dynasty in the
Nogay Horde.
Development of governmental institutions there was characterized by
considerable contradictions. Having reached its zenith by the middle of the
16th century the administrative framework entered a crisis stage and started
to decline and become simpler. The status of the ulubiy hass changed in ac-
cordance with that "Nogay alternative" of the historical development (Tre-
pavlov 1995). At the height of Nogay political might, Sayid Akhmad and
Sheykh Mamay could be rated as monarchs although withiot foreign rec-
ognition. In the 2nd and 3rd quarters of the 16th century the Nogay Horde
possessed a number of traits of the early state. But as it fell to pieces, the
extent of the power held by the central bodies narrowed more and more up
to the end of the 2nd decade of the 17th century when it came to naught. In
the conditions of economical and political collapse ulubiys proved to be
unable either to defend the status acquired by their ancestors (to say noth-
ing of its raising) or to carry out their traditional functions. A Mangyt biy
obviously couldn't cross the boundary between a chief and a khan. The
regular accession of a ulubiy was perceived as more than simply a change
in clan elders, but it hand not acquired the prestige of a coronation. The
head of the Nogay Horde remained a superchief, sometimes powerful but
never honored, without real machinery of authority, without a clear system
for succession of power, with the artificial and unconvincing substantiation
of his ruling.

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List of Contributors

Prof. Olga Yu. Artemova Institute of Ethnology and Anthropology, Russian


Academy of Sciences, 32A Leninskiy Prospest (korpus B), Moscow,
117034, RUSSIA E-mail: artemova.olga@list.ru
Dr. Maximilian O. Baldia, Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, South-
ern Methodist University, 3225 Daniel Av., Dallas, TX 75275-0274,
U.S.A. E-mail: mobaldia@onramp.net
Dr. Dmitri Beliaev Faculty of History, Political Science, and Law, Russian
State University for the Humanities, 15 Chayanova, Moscow, 125993,
RUSSIA, E-mail: lakamha@mail.ru
Prof. Moshe Berent Social and Political Science Department, The Open
University of Israel, P.O. Box 39328, Tel Aviv 61392, ISRAEL
E-mail: mosheb@oumail.openu.ac.il
Prof. Yuri E. Berezkin Piter the Great Museum of Anthropology and Eth-
nography, Russian Academy of Sciences, 3 Universitetskaya na-
bereznaya, Saint-Petersburg, 199034, RUSSIA E-mail: berez-
kin1@gmail.com
Prof. Dmitri M. Bondarenko Institute for African Studies of the Russian
Academy of Sciences, 30/1 Spiridonovka st., Moscow, 103001,
RUSSIA, E-mail: dmitrimb@mail.ru
Dr. Alex Brown European University of Lefke Kyrenia, NORTHERN
CYPRUS E-mai: singa@cc.emu.edu.tr
Prof. Robert Carneiro American Museum of Natural History, Central Park
West at 79th st., New York, NY 10024-5192, USA E-mail:
carneiro@amnh.org
Prof. Henri J.M.Claessen Department of Anthropology, Leiden University,
52 Wassenaarseweg, P.O.Box 9555, 2300 RB Leiden,
NETHERLANDS E-mail: hacla@xs4all.nl
Dr. Ben Fitzhugh, Department of Anthropology, University of Washington,
Seattle, WA. 98195-3100, USA E-mail:fitzhugh@u.washington.edu
Dr. Sergey A. Frantsuzov Institute of Oriental Cultures, Russian Academy
of Sciences, 18 Dvortsovaya nabereznaya, Saint-Petersburg, 191065,
RUSSIA E-mail: invost@mail.convey.ru

483
Dr. Alexander Kazankov A. I Institute for African Studies of the Russian
Academy of Sciences, 30/1 Spiridonovka st., Moscow, 103001,
RUSSIA,
Prof. Andrey V. Korotayev Faculty of History, Political Science, and Law,
Russian State University for the Humanities, 15 Chayanova, Moscow,
125993, Institute for African Studies and Oriental Institute of the
Russian Academy of Sciences, 12 Rozdestvenka st., Moscow, 103753,
RUSSIA, E-mail: akorotayev@gmail.com
Prof. Stephen A. Kowalewski Department of anthropology, University of
Georgia, Athens, Ga 3062, USA E-mail: skowalew@arches.uga.edu
Prof. Nikolay N. Kradin Institute of History, Archaeology & Ethnology,
Far Eastern Branch of the Russian Academy of Sciences, 89 Pushkin-
skaya st. Vladivostok, 690950, RUSSIA, E-mail: kradin@mail.ru
Dr. Dmitri N. Lelioukhine Oriental Institute of the Russian Academy of
Sciences, 12 Rozdestvenka st., Moscow, 103753, RUSSIA
Dr. Valeri A. Lynsha Department of World History, Far-Eastern Federal
University, 35 Nekrasova st., Ussuriysk, 692500, RUSSIA
E-mail: linsha@mail.ru
Dr. Mohammed Maraqten Department of Anthropology, Friedrich Schiller
University Jena, 24A Lobdergraben st. D-07743 Jena, GERMANY
E-mail: maraqten@mailer.uni-marburg.de
Dr. Alexey V. Marey Faculty of History, Political Science, and Law, Rus-
sian State University for the Humanities, 15 Chayanova, Moscow,
125993, RUSSIA
Prof. Victor de Munk Department of Anthropology, State University of
New York, NY 12651-2499, USA E-mail: victor@bestweb.net
Dr. David G. Robinson Department of Anthropology, University of Texas
at Austin, Austin, Texas 78712-1086, USA
Prof. Nikolay S. Rozov Department of Philosophy, Novosibirsk State Uni-
versity, Pirogova 2, Novosibirsk, 690090, RUSSIA,
E-mail: nrozov@inbox.ru
Prof.Richard P. Schaedel Department of Anthropology, University of
Texas at Austin, Austin, Texas 78712-1086, USA
Prof. Peter P. Schweitzer Department of Anthropology University of
Alaska Fairbanks, 310 Eielson Bldg, P.O. Box 757720, Fairbanks, AK
99775-7720, USA, E-mail: ffps@uaf.edu

484
Prof. Tatiana D. Skrynnikova Institute of Oriental Cultures, Russian Acad-
emy of Sciences, 18 Dvortsovaya nabereznaya, Saint-Petersburg,
191065, RUSSIA E-mail: skryta999@mail.ru
Prof. Aidan Southall Lisle 24350 Tocane St. Apree, FRANCE
Dr. Charles S. Spencer Anthropology Department, The American Museum
of Natural History, Central Park West at 79th St., New York, NY
10024-5192, U.S.A., E-mail: cspencer@amnh.org
Prof. Vadim V. Trepavlov Institute for Russian Studies, Russian Academy
of Sciences, 19 Dm.Ulyanova st., Moscow, 117036, RUSSIA
E-mail: trepavlov@yandex.ru
Prof. Leonid S. Vasiliev Oriental Institute of the Russian Academy of Sci-
ences, 12 Rozdestvenka st., Moscow, 103753, RUSSIA
Dr. Paul K. Wason Bates College, Lewiston, Maine 04240, USA,
E-mail: pwason@bates.edu

485

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