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Interdisciplinary Contributions to Archaeology
Edward B. Banning
The
Archaeologist’s
Laboratory
The Analysis of Archaeological Evidence
Second Edition
Series Editor
Jelmer Eerkens
University of California, Davis
Davis, CA, USA
More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/6090
Edward B. Banning
The Archaeologist’s
Laboratory
The Analysis of Archaeological Evidence
Second Edition
Edward B. Banning
Department of Anthropology
University of Toronto
Toronto, ON, Canada
ISSN 1568-2722
ISBN 978-3-030-47990-9 ISBN 978-3-030-47992-3 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-47992-3
# Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020

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For Lyn and Jordan
Preface
A new edition of The Archaeologist’s Laboratory has been long overdue. Not only have things
changed in our discipline over the last two decades, I have long wanted to give the book better
focus and to illustrate its concepts with recent case studies. Although it is impossible to separate
lab work completely from fieldwork, the emphasis here is on the former, the activities that
archaeologists and their colleagues carry out after at least some fieldwork is complete. How-
ever, we should always keep in mind that fieldwork and laboratory work go hand-in-hand, and
the best research designs are not compartmentalized in one or the other.
A thread woven throughout the book is the quality and validity of archaeological arguments
and the data we use to support them. No matter what our theoretical orientation, we want to
make academic arguments and heritage recommendations that are convincing. At a bare
minimum, we want to convince ourselves and others that the results we seem to have are not
just due to measurement errors or poor research design. We want to draw inferences that are at
least reasonable given the evidence available to us, and to present conclusions or hypotheses
that arguably fit the evidence better than some competing hypotheses, and especially the
competing hypothesis that apparent patterns are only due to sampling problems, investigator
bias, or measurement error.
Consequently, I have aimed in this book to present basic information about many of the most
common laboratory activities that archaeologists carry out, and a few less common ones, but in
the context of ensuring, to the extent that it is possible, that these activities result in
observations, measurements, and conclusions that are accurate, valid, and relevant to the
research problems at hand. While it has been necessary to subdivide laboratory research into
a number of arguably arbitrary categories, it is important to realize that archaeology is a holistic
discipline that works best when we consider different kinds of evidence, such as pottery and
plant and animal remains, in tandem. It would be impossible to understand past food and
culinary practices properly, for example, by examining only one of these. That is just one of the
reasons that archaeologists typically work in research teams that combine a variety of expertise.
I also firmly believe that the way we present our research results to others is just as important
as the way we conduct research, so I devote space to the presentation of data, mainly in graphs
and artifact illustrations, but with at least brief reference to 3D imaging and the media of
archaeological dissemination, which today go well beyond traditional monographs and aca-
demic journals.
I have tried to give the book an international and inclusive flavor by including examples and
case studies from around the world and from the Paleolithic to historical archaeology. Archae-
ology in different parts of the world has different challenges and different research problems
that sometimes call for very different research strategies, even though many aspects of research
are more universal.
This book has benefited from advice and suggestions I received from and conversations I
have had with a great many students and colleagues. I owe some of my thinking on topics
covered in this book to the early influences of Ron Farquhar, Ted Litherland, Ron Hancock, and
the late Jack Holladay. In addition to those whom I thanked in my first edition, I would like to
acknowledge valuable suggestions for improvements to one or more chapters by Caitlin Buck,
vii
viii Preface
Ben Collins, Costis Dallas, Tom Dye, Kevin Gibbs, the late Stuart Laidlaw, Lee Lyman,
Danielle MacDonald, Lisa Maher, Joy McCorriston, Katherine Patton, Trevor Ringrose,
Branden Rizzuto, Aaron Shugar, Jim Skibo, James Stemp, Susan Stock, Todd Surovell, John
Triggs, and John Whittaker. I also would like to thank Teresa Krauss, Christi Lue, and Sowmya
Thodur at Springer; Sophia Arts for her assistance with copy-editing and the index; and
Emerson Grossmith, Seiji Kadowaki, Steve Rhodes, Joy McCorriston, Emma Yasui, and
Emily Hubbard for photos of potting, core refitting, bone awls, charred rachis segments, starch
and phytoliths. Arno Glasser, Steve Rhodes, and Stuart Laidlaw helped with some of the other
photos, and William Wadsworth and Yara Salama drew many of the illustrations, while Julia
Pfaff and Catharine Solomon provided several lithic illustrations. The remaining photographs
and illustrations, unless noted otherwise, are by the author.
Toronto, ON, Canada Edward B. Banning

About the Book
The book has two main parts.

Part I introduces general topics concerning data, measurement error, data quality, research
design, typology, probability, and databases. This section also covers presentation in graphs
and tables and basic artifact conservation. Part I rounds out with the very important topic of
laboratory safety.
Part II offers brief surveys of the analysis of various classes of artifacts, namely lithics and
ground stone, pottery, metal artifacts, bone and shell artifacts, and what are sometimes called
“ecofacts”—animal and plant remains and sediments—and dating by stratigraphy, seriation,
and chronometric methods. The emphasis in the chronometric chapter is not on how dating
methods work, but on how to interpret dating evidence, with focus on dendrochronology and
radiocarbon. A chapter on archaeological illustration and publication completes this section of
the book.
A book like this cannot cover everything, so you will not find in-depth treatment of any of
these topics, while some kinds of laboratory research are necessarily absent. To give a taste of
greater depth, I include some case studies to illustrate aspects of archaeological laboratory
research or to emphasize one of the book’s main themes, and readers will find some important
or useful sources in the bibliographies at the end of each chapter, including both classic works
and recent literature.
Throughout the book, words in bold indicate important terms and concepts, with bolding
usually occurring where the concept is first defined. Algebraic terms for statistics and mathe-
matical expressions are indicated in italics, with Greek letters for population parameters (e.g., σ)
and italicized Roman letters (e.g., s) for samples. Estimates of parameters are indicated with a
circumflex accent (e.g., b σ ).
I should also emphasize that this is not a statistics text, even though there are references to
statistics in several chapters, Chap. 6 has an extended discussion of sampling, and Chap. 8 does
review basic concepts regarding probability and statistics. I also introduce some statistical
topics, like Bayesian analysis, that will be unfamiliar to some readers. As probability and
sampling are fundamental aspects of modern archaeology, whether formally part of research
designs or not, Chaps. 6 and 8 provide necessary background for many of the other chapters.
However, these chapters most certainly do not replace books on statistics or archaeological
mathematics, so readers should consult some of the more general statistical resources cited there
and texts specifically aimed at archaeologists (e.g., Barcelo and Bogdanovic, eds. 2015; Baxter
2003; Buck et al. 1996; Drennan 2010; Shennan 1997). For those who find statistics particularly
terrifying, I highly recommend Fletcher and Lock’s (1991) Digging Numbers and Rowntree’s
(2018) Statistics Without Tears. However, students will derive greater benefit from this book if
they already have at least some basic background in statistics, as this book only presents a brief
review before moving on to more complex topics.
Some chapters also include a little mathematics, which some students may find off-putting.
My reasons for including this are to make the point that the equations are not mysterious and to
increase students’ comfort with at least simple algebraic and statistical or probability
expressions. I try to follow each such equation with a verbal explanation of what it means
ix
x About the Book
and, in some cases, an example to illustrate how it works.

Although some of the topics covered, especially in Part I, can involve statistical or database
software, I have generally avoided discussing particular software platforms because those
change so rapidly and I do not want to give the impression that I am endorsing any particular
product. However, some instructors may want to introduce students to one or more of the
widely available software products, such as R or MySQL, in conjunction with some of the
topics covered here. The exception to my rule is that, in Chaps. 19 and 20, I do mention several
of the commonly available software options for ordering contexts stratigraphically and for
interpreting radiocarbon data, many of which are available to users at no cost.
The text varies in level of difficulty. Generally, most chapters begin with fairly basic
concepts and descriptions of terminology that would be appropriate for undergraduate students,
perhaps in second or third year, who have had at least some background in archaeology. Some
later parts of chapters explore concepts that might be a little advanced for such students,
sometimes because they are more quantitative, sometimes just because the topics are more
specialized. The last sections of some chapters briefly summarize a few major research
questions that are relevant to the chapter, along with some case studies. The variation in level
of difficulty allows the book to be used for senior undergraduates and graduate students for
whom the more basic parts of each chapter may constitute review, but who would benefit from
the greater level of detail or more challenging concepts in later sections. Such students would
also benefit from reading sources cited there.
I encourage instructors who use this book for course readings to select portions of chapters
that are most appropriate for their students’ level of expertise. I would also not expect students
necessarily to read the book in its linear order. I have found it effective to alternate between the
topics in Parts I and II so that students can learn the more general or theoretical material in the
context of particular kinds of materials or research problems. For example, it may be useful to
cover quantification in the context of zooarchaeology if you have access to an osteological
teaching collection.
When I teach the topics covered in this book, I have students carry out laboratory activities,
such as measuring artifacts and comparing results to demonstrate inter-observer variations, or
cluster sampling modern seeds in bins full of sand. Some of these lead to formal labs that
students must submit for grading. I have posted a few examples of these laboratory assignments
online at http://extras.springer.com/
It is also my hope that students will benefit from returning to the text later in their careers to
refresh their memories of important concepts or for direction to more specialized literature
relevant to their current research, whether that is in academia, government, or the private sector.
Graduate students and professional archaeologists may also find this book a useful reference,
with the index guiding them to relevant pages.
Toronto, ON, Canada Edward B. Banning
References
Barcelo, J. A., & Bogdanovic, I., Eds. (2015). Mathematics and archaeology. Boca Raton:
CRC Press.
Baxter, M. J. (2003). Statistics in archaeology. New York: Wiley.
Buck, C. E., Cavanagh, W. G., Litton, C. D. (1996). Bayesian approach to interpreting
archaeological data. New York: Wiley.
Drennan, R. D. (2010). Statistics for archaeologists. A common sense approach. New York:
Springer.
About the Book xi
Fletcher, M., & Lock, G. R. (1991). Digging numbers: Elementary statistics for archaeologists.
Oxford: Oxford University Committee for Archaeology.
Rowntree, D. (2018). Statistics without tears: A primer for non-mathematicians. London:
Penguin Books.
Shennan, S. (1997). Quantifying archaeology (2nd ed.). Edinburgh: Edinburgh University
Press.
Contents
1 What Are Data? Measurements and Errors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

1.1 Scales of Measurement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
1.2 Measurement Errors and Uncertainty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
1.2.1 Precision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
1.2.2 Reliability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
1.2.3 Bias . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
1.2.4 Errors of Classification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
1.2.5 Cumulative Errors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
1.2.6 Outliers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
1.2.7 Other Sources of Error . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
1.2.8 Propagation of Errors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
1.3 Confidence and Validity in Measurements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
1.3.1 Validity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
1.4 Quality Assurance and Quality Control . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
1.4.1 Tolerance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
1.4.2 Audits and Inter-Rater Reliability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
1.5 How Much Error Is Reasonable? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
1.6 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
References Cited . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2 Summarizing Data: Descriptive Statistics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
2.1 Central Tendency . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
2.2 Dispersion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
2.3 Skewness and Kurtosis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
2.4 When Are Means Meaningless? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
2.5 Summaries of Nominal and Ordinal Distributions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
2.6 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
3 Systematics: Classification and Grouping . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
3.1 Systematics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
3.2 Classes of Classification and Grouping Arrangements . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
3.2.1 Paradigmatic Classification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
3.2.2 Taxonomic Classification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
3.3 Grouping . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
3.3.1 Bounded Grouping . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
3.3.2 Central-Tendency Grouping . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
3.3.3 Attribute Association . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
3.4 Misclassification and Uncertainty in Systematics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
3.4.1 Fuzzy Classification and Fuzzy Sets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
xiii
xiv Contents
3.4.2 Fuzzy Grouping and Bayesian Grouping as Responses to

Uncertainty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
3.5 “Automatic” Classifications and Artificial Intelligence . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
3.6 Practical Considerations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38
3.7 Quality in Typologies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
3.8 Do Typologies Have Real Meaning? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
3.9 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
4 Compilations: Designing and Using Archaeological Databases . . . . . . . . . . 43
4.1 Information Language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
4.1.1 Graphical Information Languages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
4.1.2 Digital Information Languages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
4.2 Database Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
4.3 Data Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
4.4 Database Structure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
4.4.1 Types of Fields (Data Types) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
4.4.2 Operations or Procedures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
4.4.3 Data Flow Diagrams . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
4.5 Data Dictionaries and Metadata . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
4.5.1 Metadata Challenges and Digital Curation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
4.6 Web-Based Archaeological Databases . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
4.6.1 Hypermedia and Online Data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
4.7 Artificial Intelligence (AI), Data Mining, and Big Data . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
4.8 Quality Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
4.9 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
5 Visualizing Archaeological Data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
5.1 Tables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
5.2 Common Varieties of Archaeological Graphs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
5.2.1 Box-and-Whisker Plots and Stem-and-Leaf Plots . . . . . . . . . 61
5.2.2 Azimuth Plots . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
5.2.3 Bar Graphs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
5.2.4 Stacked Bar Graphs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
5.2.5 Time-Series Bar Graphs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
5.2.6 Pie Charts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
5.2.7 Windflowers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
5.2.8 Histograms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
5.2.9 Broken-Line Graphs and Time-Series . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
5.2.10 Cumulative Frequency Graphs (Ogives) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
5.2.11 Scatterplots . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
5.2.12 Ternary Graphs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
5.2.13 Spatial Histograms, Isopleth and Choropleth Maps . . . . . . . . 75
5.2.14 Control Charts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
5.3 General Principles for Effective Graphs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
5.3.1 Transformations and Problems of Scale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
5.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
5.5 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
6 Research Design and Sampling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85
6.1 Induction, Deduction, and Abduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
Contents xv
6.2 The Scientific Cycle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87

6.3 Problem Domains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
6.4 Types of Research Designs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
6.4.1 Exploratory and Descriptive Research Designs . . . . . . . . . . . 88
6.4.2 Historical Designs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
6.4.3 Comparative or Cross-Sectional Research Designs . . . . . . . . 89
6.4.4 Regression Analysis and Causal Designs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
6.4.5 Analogical Research Designs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
6.4.6 Experimental Designs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
6.5 Factors That Can Affect the Validity of a Research Design . . . . . . . . . 91
6.5.1 Fisher’s Principles of Experimental Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
6.5.2 Types of Experimental Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
6.5.3 Experiments with Human Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
6.6 Sampling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
6.6.1 Defining the Population . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
6.6.2 Establishing the Sampling Frame and Sample Elements . . . . . 95
6.6.3 Sampling Strategies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
6.6.4 Cluster Sampling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
6.6.5 Effective Sampling Fractions and Sample Sizes . . . . . . . . . . 100
6.6.6 Sequential Sampling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
6.7 What If Randomization or Probability Sampling Is Not an Option? . . . . 102
6.7.1 Bayesian Sampling and the Concept of Exchangeability . . . . 102
6.8 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
7 Counting Things: Abundance and Other Quantitative Measures . . . . . . . . 105
7.1 Assessing Abundance in Samples . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
7.1.1 NISP . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
7.1.2 The Shotwell Measure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
7.1.3 Minimum Numbers (MNI, MNV) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
7.1.4 Mass . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
7.1.5 Area Measurements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
7.1.6 Ratios . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
7.1.7 Densities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
7.2 Estimating Abundances in Populations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114
7.2.1 The Krantz Estimator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114
7.2.2 The Lincoln-Peterson Estimator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
7.2.3 Completeness Indices and Estimated Equivalents
(EVE and ETE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116
7.2.4 Quasi-Counts (PIE and TIE) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
7.2.5 Total Minimum Animal Units (TMAU) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
7.2.6 Ratios of Ratios . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
7.3 Indirect Measures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
7.3.1 Yield Estimates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
7.4 Are Ratio-Scale Measures Justified? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
7.5 Non-abundance Measures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
7.5.1 Fractal Dimension . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
7.5.2 Ubiquity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
7.5.3 Diversity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
7.6 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126
8 Probability, Modelling, and Statistical Inference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129
8.1 “Verifying” Hypotheses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129
xvi Contents
8.2 Probability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130

8.2.1 Properties of Probabilities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
8.3 Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
8.4 Parametric Statistical Tests . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
8.5 Confidence Intervals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
8.6 Bayesian Inference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139
8.7 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139
9 Basic Artifact Conservation and Lab Management . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
9.1 Artifacts in the Burial Environment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
9.2 Handling Artifacts in the Laboratory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
9.3 Simple Cleaning of Artifacts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
9.4 Storage of Archaeological Collections . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143
9.5 Collection Monitoring and Collection Census . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
9.6 Conservation Documentation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
9.7 Refitting Pottery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
9.8 Removing Samples for Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
9.9 Laboratory Protocols and Quality Assurance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
9.10 Ethical Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
9.11 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
References cited . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
10 Laboratory Health and Safety . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
10.1 Ergonomics and Back Strain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
10.2 Hygiene . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
10.3 Eye Protection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
10.4 Cuts and Abrasions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
10.5 Respiratory Hazards . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
10.6 Radiation Hazards . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
10.7 Workplace Hazardous Materials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
10.8 Hazard Warning Labels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
10.9 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
11 Stone Artifacts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
11.1 La Chaîne Opératoire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
11.2 Lithic Raw Material . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
11.2.1 Sourcing the Raw Materials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
11.3 Chipped-Stone Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
11.3.1 Fracture Mechanics and the Manufacture of Flaked-Stone
Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
11.3.2 The Anatomy of Chipped Stone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
11.3.3 Stone Tool Typology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
11.3.4 Attributes of Chipped-Stone Products . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
11.3.5 Flintknapping Waste . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
11.3.6 Refitting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
11.4 Ground-Stone Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170
11.4.1 Manufacture of Ground-Stone Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170
11.4.2 Anatomy of Common Ground-Stone Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
11.4.3 Some Attributes of Ground-Stone Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173
11.5 Use-Wear and Residue Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
Contents xvii
11.6 Economizing Behavior and Design in Stone Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175

11.7 Style in Stone Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
11.8 Non-Use Alteration of Lithics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
11.9 Validity and Reliability in Analysis of Stone Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
11.10 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
12 Ceramic Artifacts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
12.1 Anatomy of a Pot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
12.2 Measuring Vessel Form and Size . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187
12.3 Ceramic Ecology and Chaînes Opératoires of Ceramic Vessels . . . . . . 188
12.3.1 Raw Materials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
12.3.2 Processing the Raw Materials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
12.3.3 Preparing the Body . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190
12.3.4 Constructing the Vessel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190
12.3.5 Finishing Techniques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194
12.3.6 Drying and Firing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
12.3.7 Use, Re-use and Recycling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196
12.4 Pottery Attributes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196
12.4.1 Attributes for Identifying Raw Materials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196
12.4.2 Attributes for Identifying Forming and Finishing
Techniques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197
12.4.3 Attributes for Identifying Firing Conditions . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200
12.5 Functional Analysis of Pottery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203
12.6 Stylistic Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
12.7 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208
13 Metal Artifacts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211
13.1 Chaînes Opératoires for Metal Artifacts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211
13.1.1 Raw Materials, Metals and Alloys . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212
13.1.2 Alloys . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
13.1.3 Shaping Metal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216
13.1.4 Casting of Bronze Cutting Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216
13.1.5 Lost-Wax Casting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217
13.1.6 Chaînes Opératoires of Metal Vessels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219
13.1.7 Jewelry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220
13.2 Conservation Aspects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220
13.3 Metal as Wealth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220
13.3.1 Coins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221
13.3.2 Hoard Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223
13.4 Quality in Archaeometallurgical Analyses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226
13.5 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227
14 Bone and Shell Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231
14.1 The Chaînes Opératoires of Bone and Shell Technology . . . . . . . . . . . 231
14.1.1 Bone, Shell and Ivory as Raw Materials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231
14.1.2 Preparation of the Material . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232
14.1.3 Shaping the Material . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232
14.2 Types and Anatomies of Bone and Shell Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234
14.2.1 Bone Awls, Needles and Points . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234
14.2.2 Fishhooks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234
14.2.3 Potting Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236
14.2.4 Beads and Pendants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236
xviii Contents
14.2.5 Bull-Roarers, Whistles and Flutes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236

14.2.6 Bone, Ivory, and Shell as Decorative Inlay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237
14.3 Use Wear on Bone and Shell Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238
14.4 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238
15 Archaeological Animal Remains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241
15.1 Types of Faunal Remains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241
15.2 Taphonomy and Site-Formation Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242
15.3 Animal Taxonomy and Anatomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
15.3.1 Mammalian Anatomy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
15.3.2 Skeletal Anatomy of Birds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
15.3.3 Anatomy of Bony Fish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248
15.3.4 Anatomy of Molluscs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
15.4 Identifying Faunal Remains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251
15.5 Preparing Skeletal Remains for a Reference Collection . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
15.6 Determining Sex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
15.7 Age at Death . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
15.8 Zooarchaeological Sampling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253
15.9 Zooarchaeological Quantification and Interpretation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253
15.9.1 Elemental Abundance and Choice of Cut . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254
15.10 Paleoecology and Climate Change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255
15.11 Seasonality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256
15.12 Diet and Food Preferences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256
15.13 Domestication of Animals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 258
15.14 Archaeogenetics and ZooMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 258
15.15 Secondary Products . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
15.16 Inter- and Intra-Observer Differences in Faunal Identification and
Measurement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260
15.17 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261
16 Archaeological Plant Remains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267
16.1 Types of Archaeological Plant Remains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267
16.1.1 Macroremains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267
16.1.2 Microremains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267
16.1.3 Chemical and Isotopic Evidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
16.2 Taphonomy, Site-Formation Processes, and the Chaînes
Opératoires of Plant Use . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
16.3 Archaeobotanical Sampling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271
16.4 Processing Samples of Macroremains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274
16.4.1 Water Flotation for Charred Plant Remains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274
16.4.2 Dry Sieving . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
16.4.3 Post-separation Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
16.5 Seeds and Nutshell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
16.6 Wood Charcoal of Trees and Shrubs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277
16.7 Parenchymous Remains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278
16.8 Processing and Analyzing Samples of Microremains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280
16.8.1 Pollen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280
16.8.2 Phytoliths . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281
16.8.3 Starches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282
16.9 Chemical and Isotopic Evidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283
16.10 Quantification Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283
16.11 Archaeobotany and Paleoenvironment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284
Contents xix
16.12 Reconstructing Paleodiets, Foodways and Plant Use . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285

16.13 Plant Domestication and the Origins of Food Production . . . . . . . . . . . 285
16.14 Quality in Archaeobotanical Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287
16.15 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287
17 Soils, Sediments, and Geoarchaeology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293
17.1 Soils and Sediments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293
17.2 Lithostratigraphy and Archaeological Stratigraphy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293
17.3 Sampling Sediments for Laboratory Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294
17.4 Texture and Particle Characteristics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295
17.4.1 Texture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295
17.4.2 Particle and Aggregate Shape . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299
17.4.3 Sorting and Density of Particles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300
17.5 Sediment Color . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300
17.6 Acidity (pH) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301
17.7 Phosphates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301
17.8 Micromorphology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 302
17.9 Geomorphology and Site-Formation Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303
17.10 Environmental Interpretation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305
17.11 Cultural Interpretation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305
17.12 Stratigraphic Associations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305
17.13 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 307
18 Seriation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309
18.1 Incidence and Frequency Seriation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309
18.2 Multidimensional Scaling (MDS) and Correspondence
Analysis (CA) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312
18.3 Bayesian Approaches to Seriation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313
18.4 A New Approach to Deterministic Seriation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313
18.5 Die-Linkage of Coins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313
18.6 Quality in the Use and Interpretation of Seriations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314
18.7 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315
19 Stratigraphy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317
19.1 Traditional Stratigraphic Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318
19.2 The Harris Matrix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 320
19.3 Single-Context or Single-Layer Plans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322
19.4 Grouping Stratigraphic Units . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323
19.5 Confounding Factors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323
19.6 Unitary Association Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324
19.7 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325
20 Chronometric Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327
20.1 Dates and Events . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327
20.2 Types of Dating and Their Uncertainties . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329
20.3 Chronology from Historical Manufacture Dates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 330
20.4 Dendrochronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331
20.5 Radiometric and Physics-Based Dating in General . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 332
20.5.1 Radiocarbon Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
20.5.2 Sources of Error in Radiocarbon Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 336
20.6 Bayesian Analysis of Chronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341
xx Contents
20.6.1 Credible Intervals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 343

20.7 Summed Probability Distributions (SPD) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 343
20.8 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 345
21 Archaeological Illustration and Publication . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 349
21.1 Early Archaeological Illustration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 349
21.2 Style of Representation and Basic Conventions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 351
21.3 Basic Equipment and Supplies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 352
21.4 Lithic Illustration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 354
21.5 Illustrating Pottery and Stone, Glass or Metal Vessels . . . . . . . . . . . . . 356
21.6 Illustrating “Small Finds” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 360
21.7 3D Scans of Artifacts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 360
21.8 Indicating Error or Uncertainty in Illustrations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361
21.9 Layout of Plates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361
21.10 Maps and Plans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361
21.11 Stratigraphic Sections and Architectural Elevations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 362
21.12 Reconstructions and Visualization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 364
21.13 Digital Illustration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 364
21.13.1 Digital File Formats . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 365
21.14 The Publication Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 365
21.14.1 Publishers’ Styles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 366
21.14.2 Online Publication and Unconventional Publication . . . . . . . 366
21.15 Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 367
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369
About the Author
Ted Banning is a Canadian archaeologist and professor of Anthropology at University of

Toronto. His research focuses on the Neolithic of the Near East, but his other interests include
the theory and methods of archaeological survey and landscape archaeology, the spatial
organization of ancient built environments, and the spatial and statistical analysis of
microrefuse —tiny fragments of lithics, pottery, ground stone, shell, bone, and other materials
in archaeological sediments. For more than three decades, he has directed field projects in
northern Jordan, and previously served on the staff of excavations at the Pre-Pottery Neolithic
site of ‘Ain Ghazal, Jordan, at Tell al-Maskhuta, Egypt, and on surveys in southern Jordan and
northeastern Egypt. He also has side interests in historical archaeology and numismatics, and
especially the early history of numismatists and antiquarians in Canada. He is author of
Archaeological Survey (Springer 2002), a member of the Society of American Archaeology
and American Institute of Archaeology, and Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London.
xxi
List of Figures
Fig. 1.1 Manual caliper and close-up of the measuring scale. Note how the “zero”
tick on the mm scale falls just a little to the left of 18 mm. That suggests that
the measurement should be close to 17.7 or 17.8 mm. Now, looking along
the bottom scale (the 0.05 mm scale), the tick that best lines up with the tick
above it is the one between “7” and “8,” indicating that the measurement is
17.75 mm (0.05 is its resolution or precision). Given that this is a rather
cheap and possibly not highly accurate caliper, one might be more com-
fortable citing 0.1 mm resolution (or 17.8 mm) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
Fig. 1.2 The three triangles in (a) indicate three darts aimed very precisely but not
very accurately, while the three in (b) are fairly accurate but less precise
because they are not as tightly clustered . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
Fig. 1.3 Scatterplot of the relationship of total floor area to population size in an
ethnographic sample of largest settlements (Modified from Naroll 1962).
The graph omits the largest site (Cuzco at 16.7 ha and 200,000 people) and
has linear, rather than logarithmic scales. The dashed diagonal indicates an
alleged relationship of 10 m2 of floor area per person but note how poorly
the data fit the regression line, which is heavily influenced by the three
largest sites, especially Cuzco. Small error bars have been added just to
illustrate how to show estimated measurement errors on area and population
statistics . . . . .. . . . .. . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . .. . . 12
Fig. 2.1 The effect of symmetry and skewness on some common measures of central
tendency. In a normal distribution, the sample mean, median and mode are
equal and in the center of the curve. In skewed distributions, however, the
sample mean deviates considerably from the median and mode because
extreme values in the long tail pull it to left or right. In such cases, the mean
does not provide a good sense of central tendency . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18
Fig. 2.2 A histogram showing how to calculate a mean from grouped data, as you
might find in a publication. Here we would multiply the number of
observations in each interval by the mid-point of that interval (indicated by
ticks on top of the bars), sum those values, and then divide the sum by the
number of observtions. In this example, the sum would be 5 + (2*9) +
(4*13) + (3*17) + (2*21) + (2*25) + 29, so the mean would be 247/15 ¼
16.5 mm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18
Fig. 3.1 A taxonomic classification of arrangements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Fig. 3.2 A taxonomic classification of Owasco pottery from New York State (After
Whallon 1972: 17). Note that the distinctions made in the left side of the
“tree” are quite different from those on the right . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
xxiii
xxiv List of Figures
Fig. 3.3 Histogram of a multimodal distribution of Harrapan cube-shaped weights

from the site of Mohenjo-Daro, Pakistan (Data from Mackay 1938:
607–611). Note that the distances between peaks tend to double, with peaks
around 0.9 g, 1.7 g, 3.5 g, 6.8 g, 13.7 g, and 27.4 g, suggesting the system of
values. Variation around these peaks, and scatters of intervening mass may
be due to manufacturing error, dishonesty, chipping and wear, or error in the
archaeologists’ measurements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
Fig. 3.4 Steps in single-link clustering using the similarity matrix in Table 3.4. (After
Orton 1980: 48–49): (a) artifacts 5 and 6 are grouped at 95% similarity, (b)
artifacts 1 and 2 are grouped at 90% similarity, (c) artifact 3 joins the group
with artifacts 1 and 2 because it has 85% similarity with artifact 2, (d)
artifact 7 joins the group with artifacts 5 and 6 because it has 80% similarity
to both 5 and 6, (e) artifact 4 joins the same group because it has 70%
similarity to artifact 5, and (f) setting a “cut-off” of about 75% defines three
groups with the sets (1, 2, 3), (4), and (5, 6, 7) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
Fig. 3.5 Plotting the error of fit in the k-means technique to find the best number of
clusters. In (a), the elbow occurs at two clusters (k ¼ 2), while in (b), there
are two elbows and, arguably, the best number of elbows could be three.
(After Orton 1980: 53) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
Fig. 3.6 Two-dimensional MDS “map” to illustrate the dissimilarities (distances)
among the locational attributes of Late Iron Age sites in coastal Zululand,
South Africa. The diameters of circles represent a third dimension, the
numbers represent different site attributes, and the stress (distortion) is 6%.
(After Hall 1982: 140) . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . . 33
Fig. 3.7 Trace-element concentrations (parts per million) of barium and zirconium in
Old World obsidians of known sources. (After Cann et al. 1969: 157). Note
the logarithmic scales . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . 34
Fig. 3.8 Correspondence Analysis (CA) of assemblages of glass vessels (After
Baxter 2003: 138). The data fall into two clusters of earlier contexts (first to
fourth centuries AD), dominated by bottles, flasks and jugs, and later
contexts, dominated by cups . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
Fig. 3.9 Three different relationships between the length and width of fictitious
projectile points, with dashed lines dividing the field into four quadrants
analogous to the cells in a paradigm with two dichotomous dimensions (2
2). In (a), there is a correlation but no distinct clusters, in (b), there may be
two distinct clusters or just a correlation with missing data, and in (c), there
are two distinct clusters with different length/width ratios . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
Fig. 4.1 An example of illustrations of pottery that employ a combination of graph-
ical and textual information languages to display vessel shape and size,
radial section, interior and exterior colors, surface treatments and artifact
numbers. (cf. Smith 1973) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
Fig. 4.2 An example of segmentation of a vessel into distinct parts (after Skibo 1992:
114). The definitions of these segments constitute the segmentation rules for
an information language to describe pots like this . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
Fig. 4.3 An example of a portion of the differentiation rules for pottery decoration in
the American Southwest. This one includes primary and secondary deco-
rative elements that can be combined in various ways.
(After Plog 1980: 51) . . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . 46
Fig. 4.4 An alternative lexicon for incised decoration on Yarmoukian Neolithic
pottery that has a single level of design elements (after Garfinkel 1999: 65).
Can you think of ways to redesign this as a sort of grammar with primary
and secondary design elements and their interactions? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
List of Figures xxv
Fig. 4.5 A few examples of lexical items and interactions for describing cylinder
seals. Top: interactions among people and animals. Middle: holding an
object. Bottom: people, objects and animals and their interactions on
vehicles. Lexical items include animal subject (Sa), animal object (Oa),
subject man (Sm), object man (Om), hybrid creature being led (S2h), neutral
man (Nm), neutral container (Nc), and actions include holding two-handed
to left (2 h L), one-handed on one shoulder (1 h 1sh), two-handed on both
shoulders (2 h 2sh), and two-handed on head. (2 h hd; modified from Digard
et al. 1975: 43, 45, 249, 325) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
Fig. 4.6 A subset of segmentation rules for Samarran house plans in Mesopotamia,
using the orientation rule that the widest part of the house is shown at the
bottom. (After Banning 1997: 24) . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . . . . 48
Fig. 4.7 Example of a portion of an Entity-Relationship Model (ERM) for a project
with multiple sites and excavations. In this style of ERM, rectangles are
entities or entity types, ovals are some attributes of those entities, and
diamonds are relationships. On the connecting lines, the vertical bar at one
end and “crow’s foot” at the other means that multiple members of the entity
attached by the “crow’s foot” may participate in the relationship with only
one member the other entity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
Fig. 4.8 A structure chart for a file to record “sites” information, with a key attribute
(site number) and unique “site name” field above the dashed line, and a
number of fields to describe other attributes of each site in a regional survey
below. Bolded letters indicate whether the fields are alphanumeric (A),
numeric (N), date (D), boolean (B), or text (T) fields. Note that “Site
number” is not a numeric field because the numbers are arbitrary labels . . . . . 50
Fig. 4.9 A structure chart depicting a relation between a “lithics” file and a “context”
file for an archaeological excavation. Only some of the fields are shown.
Bolded letters indicate whether the fields are alphanumeric (A), numeric
(N), date (D), boolean (B), or text (T) fields. The “crow’s foot notation” on
the connecting lines indicate that each lithic has a mandatory relationship to
a single member of the “context” file (double bar) while each context has an
optional relationship to potentially many members of the “lithics” file
(“crow’s foot”). Note that “site number” in the context file could be an
attribute pointer to a key attribute in a “sites” file as in Fig. 4.8 . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . 50
Fig. 4.10 An example of a portion of a Data Flow Diagram (DFD) to sketch out what
happens when someone carries out a process that sorts artifacts into groups
on the basis of their stratigraphic context. For each artifact in the “artifacts”
file, the process has to look up its stratigraphic placement by reference to the
“context” file and then assigns it to one of the stratigraphic groupings
at right . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
Fig. 4.11 Example of two pages from a data dictionary, one defining a data element,
the other a data flow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
Fig. 5.1 Stem-and-leaf plot (left) and a corresponding tally (right) to show two
different ways to record the frequency distribution of blade lengths in
millimeters. The former includes all the raw data, including the last digit,
while the latter, like a histogram, only tells you how many observations fell
within each interval .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . 61
Fig. 5.2 Box-plot of edge straightness of bifaces from Olduvai Gorge Beds II and IV.
(After Shipton 2018: 117) . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . 61
Fig. 5.3 Azimuth plot of orientations in 132 Irish “court cairn” tombs. (Y. Salama,
After De Valera 1959: plate 35) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
xxvi List of Figures
Fig. 5.4 Bar graphs to show the distribution of surface treatments among miniature
vessels and the general assemblage at the Homol’ovi I site in northeastern
Arizona. (After Fladd and Barker 2019: 114) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
Fig. 5.5 Two back-to-back bar graphs to facilitate comparison of distributions of
body parts by NISP among deer remains in pits and other cultural layers at
the site of Gomolava, Serbia. (Data from Orton 2012: 334) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
Fig. 5.6 “Battleship curve” (a) of tombstones from New England. (After Deetz
1967) and (b) the same data shown as histograms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
Fig. 5.7 Stacked bar graph of carbonized plant taxa by time period at Santa Cruz
Island (after Arnold & Martin 2014: 241). Note the distracting moiré effects
(patterns not used in the original), and that these data could have been shown
effectively in a time series instead . .. .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . 65
Fig. 5.8 Time-series bar graph indicating the times (as once understood) when each
of several Near Eastern sites was occupied. Gaps in the bars indicate site
abandonments (modified from Singh 1974). Note the time arrangement with
oldest at the bottom, as in stratigraphic order . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
Fig. 5.9 Pie chart of the distribution of four different sources of fat following analysis
of chemical residues in pottery. (Y. Salama) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
Fig. 5.10 Map with pie charts to show the proportional variation in food groups across
space in the Upward Sun River site in central Alaska. (Y. Salama, after Choy
et al. 2016: 9760) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
Fig. 5.11 Windflowers to show the distribution of horizontal orientations (compass
bearings) and dip angles (inclination) of artifact refits in layer 2 at La
Ferrassie, France. (Data from McPherron 2018: 12) .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . 67
Fig. 5.12 Rose plots to compare the angular distributions of body orientations in Early
Bronze Age Grave Burials (A) and Storage Pit Burials (B) in Moravia. (Y.
Salama, after Pankowská & Monik 2017: 922) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
Fig. 5.13 Two histograms with continuous data, shown back-to-back to facilitate
comparison of distributions of lengths of projectile points at two early
Neolithic sites in Lebanon and Israel. (After Rhodes et al. 2020) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68
Fig. 5.14 Histogram with discrete data, in this case, a Poisson distribution with a mean
of 4 (see Chap. 8) . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . 68
Fig. 5.15 The histogram in (a) distorts the information by treating unequal intervals as
though they are equal (and also has time in reverse order), that in (b) corrects
for the period durations but, unless all the sites were continuously occupied
throughout their period, distorts histogram shape by using heights, and (c)
corrects this effect by making the areas in each interval proportional to
frequency . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
Fig. 5.16 Effect of “bin” size and location on histogram shape. All four histograms
show the same data, but with different “bin” boundaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
Fig. 5.17 Broken-line graph showing interpolated variation in artifact density along a
transect across an artifact scatter in Lefkas, Greece. (Data from Gallant
1986: 407) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
Fig. 5.18 Time-series graph showing how estimated momentary population sizes
changed over time (after Ortman 2016). Steep slopes on the broken lines
indicate rapid population growth or decline and bars on total population
represent standard errors (here conjectural) . . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . 71
Fig. 5.19 Misleading time-series with unequal periods shown as though they were of
equal duration (a) and a corrected version (b) with the approximate duration
of each period indicated in years and points at the midpoints of periods (data
from Morris 1987: 141). The latter more accurately represents rates
of change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
List of Figures xxvii
Fig. 5.21 Comparing wealth inequality in graves by means of ogives. The Lorenz
curve compares inequality by plotting the cumulative proportion of metal
artifacts against the cumulative proportion of graves, ranked from “poorest”
to “richest” graves. The diagonal line (y ¼ x) would indicate an “equitable”
distribution. The curves closest to the lower right corner of the graph show
the greatest inequality, with most graves showing no metal artifacts at all
(modified from Morris 1987: 142). The maximum vertical difference (D)
between curves for early-mid and late Geometric periods provides the
Kolmogorov-Smirnov statistic for the difference between these periods’
wealth distributions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Fig. 5.20 Specialized time-series with bottom-to-top orientation to plot oxygen-
isotope ratios (δ18O ‰) in the GISP-2 ice core from Greenland as a climate-
change proxy. (Curve from Buizert et al. 2014: 1178) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Fig. 5.22 Scatterplot showing a Factor Analysis (see Chap. 3) of chemical
compositions of proto-porcelain sherds from a cemetery and four kiln sites
in China. Adding dashed elipses to the graph helps to highlight important
clusters in the data. Note the outlier at upper right.
(After Yu et al. 2018: 28) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Fig. 5.23 Four-dimensional scatterplot (or “rugplot”) with sides of the “boxes” shown
side-by-side. The dashed line segments highlight the location of a selected
artifact in multiple dimensions, and the short line segments connect the
graphs by their shared points (cf Tufte 1983: 135) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Fig. 5.24 Scatterplot of the lengths and widths of Clovis points from the Hogeye &
Graffenried caches in Texas. (Redrawn with data from Waters et al. 2011:
116) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
Fig. 5.25 Ternary graph of the percentages of domesticated cattle, caprines and pigs at
Neolithic sites in the western Balkans (after Orton et al. 2016: 12). Circles
represent open-air sites and squares cave sites, and the colors represent
different regions. Note that cave sites are high in caprines, and open-air sites
high in cattle, while pigs occur more rarely at both kinds of sites . . . . .. . . . .. . . 76
Fig. 5.26 Maps of basalt microrefuse densities on a house floor in a Neolithic site in
Jordan (Ullah et al. 2015), with (a) a chloropleth map showing number of
basalt fragments per cm2, (b) interpolation to smooth the data to make an
isopleth map that is not constrained by the grid, and (c) with the densities
converted to Z scores and areas from (b) that are at least 1 Z above the mean
in red and ones more than 1 Z below the mean in yellow (see pp. xx). The
large object at center is a mortar, distortion to the grid was caused by rocks
and other obstructions, and dark grey marks a house wall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
Fig. 5.27 Spatial histogram (or stepped statistical surface) of potsherds at the entrance
to Grave 9 at Fjälkinge, southern Sweden (Y. Salama, after Shanks and
Tilley 1987: 166). Note that this image exaggerates the density of sherds at
lower right. (Because that unit is much larger than the others, it should have
been scaled by sherd density, not count) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
xxviii List of Figures
Fig. 5.28 Example of a simple control chart (a), showing Upper (UCL) and Lower
Control Limits (LCL) and target value of 0 mean difference between rim
diameters by expert and lab personnel. The large arrow highlights 2 weeks
where personnel suddenly began to overestimate rim diameter, suggesting
perhaps some change in personnel or the expert. Example of a difference-
against-mean chart (b) for measurements of projectile point length by the
same analyst at two different times (after Lyman and VanPool 2009: 497).
As the scatter is horizontal, there is no magnitude-dependent trend, the mean
difference is close to zero, and most of the points are within two standard
deviations of this mean difference. However, the points are somewhat more
widely scattered about the mean for smaller measurements than
for large ones . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . 78
Fig. 5.29 Distortion in a time series (a) caused by cutting out the bottom of the y-axis
makes the slope of population change appear remarkably steep around 1200
and 1400 CE when an honest graph (b) shows that the slope is less
pronounced and most of the differences may be within measurement
errors . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . 80
Fig. 5.30 Use of meaningless 3D effects (a) or icons sized to their heights (b) distorts
the data by jeopardizing the proportionality of area and also distracts
viewers from the data. (Projectile point images from
Boule 1923: 378, 380) . .. . .. . .. . .. .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .. . .. . .. . 81
Fig. 5.31 Bar graph of axe types found in single finds and hoards from Middle
Neolithic IIB votive deposits at Skane, with a linear scale (a) and with a
square-root transformation (b). The latter violates the principle of
proportionality but makes it easier to show both large and small values on
the same graph (data from Tilley 1996: 289). Note that a log10 transfor-
mation is not possible in this case because there is a 0 value . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
Fig. 6.1 The “Scientific Cycle” . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . . 87
Fig. 6.2 The Hermeneutic Circle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
Fig. 6.3 Spurious correlation between changes in the bore diameter of smoking pipes
in the United States (Heighten and Deagan 1971) and the price of wheat in
Münich (Kellenbenz et al. 1977: 218) over the period from 1688 to 1775
(correlation coefficient, Pearson’s r ¼ 0.85). The fact that wheat prices
happened to rise at the same time that pipestem diameters decreased is
purely coincidental . . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . . .. . .. . .. . .. . 90
Fig. 6.4 Examples of some basic sampling frames and resulting samples: (a) a simple
random sample from a collection of projectile points, (b) a proportionally
stratified cluster sample of artifacts with contexts selected randomly from
three kinds of context, (c) a systematic spatial sample of squares in a grid,
(d) a systematic, stratified, unaligned sample of points for coring, (e) a
systematic stratified spatial sample of transects in an archaeological survey
(randomly chosen start transect in each stratum), and (f) a disproportionate
stratified random sample of spaces in a large architectural complex with
three types of spaces (33% CY courtyards, 40% D domestic, and 30% S
storage). Selected elements are grey, and sampling was without
replacement . . . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . 96
List of Figures xxix
Fig. 6.5 PPS sampling: (a) point counting, only the particles or sites intersected by
systematic points, (b) line counting, only particles or sites intersected by
systematic lines, and (c) only particles or sites whose lower (or southern)
ends are within a ribbon or strip are counted. For (b) and narrow particles
whose length is less than the line spacing, the probability of intersection is
twice their length divided by π times the spacing between lines. An alter-
native to (c) is to count those whose centers are within the ribbon, but
centers are not as easy to determine accurately as ends. Note that, for all
these methods, large targets are intersected more often than small ones . . . . 97
Fig. 6.6 Example of sequential sampling for flint, pottery and basalt microrefuse at
the Neolithic site of Tabaqat al-Bûma, Jordan (Y. Salama, after Ullah et al.
2015). After the sample size for these cluster samples exceeds n ¼ 14, there
is no significant improvement in the relative standard error . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
Fig. 7.1 Effect of fragmentation on the value of NISP, here for 10 complete
specimens. At first fragmentation leads to higher values of NISP, but then
many fragments become unidentifiable, so that NISP approaches 0 at high
levels of fragmentation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
Fig. 7.2 Conjectural pollen diagram with various taxa of arboreal and herbaceous
plants. Note how major peaks in one taxon tend to correspond with troughs
in the spectra of other taxa. (See also Fig. 16.14) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
Fig. 7.3 Illustration of Orton’s (2000: 65) ratio-of-ratios approach to estimating the
difference in taxonomic ratios among sites with similar preservation
conditions. In site A, the original ratios among three taxa are 1:1 and 1:1,
while in site B the ratios are 5:3 and 3:2. After those assemblages undergo
deterioration at rates that vary by taxon but are proportional at the two sites
(site B is twice as destructive as site A), the ratios among taxa in the sample
assemblages of the two sites preserve the original proportionality (e.g., the
ratio of 1:1 to 5:3 is the same as 2:1 to 10:3) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
Fig. 7.4 Graph of ranked site sizes follows Zipf’s Law, a power function that is a
fractal property, here illustrated with data from the Laconia Survey, Greece,
and a subset from the Chrysapha area within it (after Cavanagh 2009: 414).
The fact that both the full data set and the subset have the same slope means
that they have the same fractal dimension, demonstrating self-similarity at
different scales . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
Fig. 7.5 Calculation of the fractal measure, D, for the sizes of flintknapping debris
(Y. Salama, after Brown et al. 2005). The axes are natural logarithms, r is
length of flakes in millimeters and N(>r) is the number of artifacts with
lengths greater than r . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . 122
Fig. 7.6 Sequential sampling to determine how large a sample (n) is necessary to
obtain a stable estimate of ubiquity. In both examples shown here, the
probability that any particular sample element contained at least one item
was 0.25 (dashed line), but one sequential sample (squares) approached but
never reached this, while the other (circles) yielded an accurate estimate at n
¼ 40 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
Fig. 7.7 When plotting richness (number of taxa) against the cumulative proportions
of taxa, population A is more diverse than population B despite having fewer
taxa because the cumulative proportions of taxa are higher (cf. Ringrose
1993b) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
Fig. 7.8 Plot of m against the expected species index, s(m). Sample A shows more
diversity than sample B because its curve is higher (cf. Ringrose 1993b) . 126
xxx List of Figures
Fig. 8.1 Binomial model for a probability of 0.4 of finding at least one maize kernel
in ten 1 m2 excavation units, B(10,0.4). Note that the most likely outcome is
that four units will have one or more maize kernels, and there is very little
chance that none, or as many as eight, will have a maize kernel. The bars are
separate line segments to signal that this is a discrete distribution . . . . . . . . . 132
Fig. 8.2 Poisson distribution for a density of 5 artifacts per square
meter (λ ¼ 5) .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . 133
Fig. 8.3 Normal or Gaussian distribution for the lengths of a population of projectile
points with a mean length of 43 mm and standard deviation (σ) of 7 mm. The
hatched area represents slightly more than 68% of the area under the curve,
and each tail represents almost 16%. The area within 2σ is about 95%, and
within 3σ is about 99.7% of the curve’s total area . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. 133
Fig. 8.4 Examples of a two-tail Z-test with two rejection regions that jointly add up
to 0.05 of the curve’s area (a) and a one-tail test, also with a significance of
0.05, but with all the area in one tail (b). In classical statistics, a result within
one of the tails (hatched) would result in rejection of the null hypothesis that
the mean ¼ μ at 95% confidence .. . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . . .. . . . .. 134
Fig. 8.5 Test of the hypothesis that the flake density could at a site could be λ ¼ 3 if a
sample drawn from the population has a mean > 5. This uses a one-tail test
and the Poisson model and shows that this outcome has a probability of only
0.084 (grey bars), so that we would reject the hypothesis at 90% confidence
but could not reject it at 95% confidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
Fig. 9.1 Schematic of a storage box containing silica gel to control humidity for
sensitive artifacts, such as metal ones (W. Wadsworth, after Cronyn 1990:
75). Note that it would be necessary to change the silica gel periodically, on
the basis of the humidity indicator strip . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144
Fig. 9.2 Example of a tag to indicate the removal of an artifact from its place in a
drawer (left) and part of a page from a “Specimens Removed Log” (right)
that documents the date and purpose of removal and the person
responsible . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148
Fig. 10.1 Laboratory step-stool for accessing high shelving . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
Fig. 10.2 Using microscopes at ergonomic heights with plenty of illumination from a
large window . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . .. . . .. . . .. . .. . . .. 153
Fig. 11.1 Plot of the first two Principal Components of archaeological samples and
quarry pieces analyzed by ICP-MS, a type of mass spectrometry, with
ellipses for the 95% confidence intervals for group membership. (After
Carballo et al. 2007: 36) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
Fig. 11.2 Conchoidal fracture, resulting in a Hertzian cone that expands from the point
of impact by a hard object on a block of glass or flint . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162
Fig. 11.3 Removal of a flake from the side of a core by conchoidal fracture . . . . . . . . 162
Fig. 11.4 Making a pyramidal core from an egg-shaped cobble (a, b) and
rejuvenating the core (c) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
Fig. 11.5 A student attempting to learn hard-hammer reduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
Fig. 11.6 Anatomy of a flake or blade, with some of its main measurements. In the
ventral view at right, the heavy lines represent the “box length” and width at
half box length, while box width is shown above. Box length and width
define a rectangle that encloses the flake when aligned to the platform. Axes
with arrows represent the axial length and axial width at half-length, axes
with long dashes represent long axis and width at half long axis, and lightly
dashed lines represent maximum length and width at half maximum (which
in this case is also equal to maximum width) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
List of Figures xxxi
Fig. 11.7 A classification of flake terminations as viewed in radial section: from left to
right, feather, step, hinge, and plunging terminations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166
Fig. 11.8 Classification of retouch type and ordinal scale of invasiveness: (a) scaled,
(b) stepped, (c) sub-parallel, and (d) parallel retouch; (e) short, (f) long, (g)
invasive, and (h) covering retouch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Fig. 11.9 A classification for description of retouch position: (a) direct, (b) bifacial,
(c) alternate, and (d) inverse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Fig. 11.10 Measuring the “length” of retouch on an edge by the angle of arc in degrees
on a polar graph, here 127 . A similar scale can be used to record the
locations of polish or use wear. The artifact is positioned here by its axis of
flaking (axial length) and midline . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
Fig. 11.11 Taxonomy of debitage. (Modified from Sullivan and Rozen 1985) . . . . . . . . 169
Fig. 11.12 Flakes refitted to a core from the Late Neolithic site of al-Basatîn, Jordan
(From Kadowaki and Banning 2018: 68). “PC” is partially cortical . . . . . . . 170
Fig. 11.13 Map of connections between refitted lithics in Layer 15 at Oliveira Cave,
Torres Novas, Portugal. (Modified from Deschamps and Zilhão 2018) . . . 170
Fig. 11.14 Segmentation terminology for a lower milling stone or quern. (After Wright
1992: 497–498) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
Fig. 11.15 Segmentation terminology for an upper milling stone or handstone. (After
Wright 1992: 497–498) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
Fig. 11.16 Segmentation terminology for mortars and pestles. (After Wright 1992:
497–498) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173
Fig. 11.17 Tenth- or Eleventh-century whetstones from Starigard-Oldenburg,
Germany. (Y. Salama, after Gabriel and Kempke 2011) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
Fig. 11.18 Scatterplot and difference-against-mean plots showing inter-analyst
variability for two analysts measuring the thickness of projectile points.
(After Lyman and VanPool 2009: 498) . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. . . .. 177
Fig. 11.19 Medians of lithic quality measures for different modes of learning how to
strike flakes from cores. Error bars indicate the 95% credible intervals
(Bayesian analogue to the Confidence Interval, after Morgan et al. 2014: 4) 178
Fig. 11.20 Changes in the probability of striking a viable flake along a transmission
chain. For verbal and gestural teaching, this probability declined markedly
with distance from the original teacher, so that there was little to no
difference among the different kinds of transmission by time 5. (After
Morgan et al. 2014: 4) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
Fig. 12.1 Archaeological descriptions of pottery emphasize the radial section (a cross-
section parallel to the pot’s axis of symmetry to provide a profile from rim to
base) and tangential view (i.e., view of the vessel’s exterior surface). A
transverse view (looking down at the rim or up at the base) is more important
for vessels that are not circular in plan or that have unusual features on base,
interior, or rim. Illustrations of pottery typically employ “cutaway” views
that show a radial section as well as a reconstruction of the exterior and
interior surfaces of the vessel, as though the illustrator had cut away
one-quarter of the vessel (left) . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . 186
Fig. 12.2 An example of segmentation rules for painted decoration on the exterior of
Pueblo vessels (after Bunzel 1972). Vessels like the one at upper left are
divided into zones of actual or potential decoration both vertically and
radially. The rectangles show the segmentation of decorative panels as
viewed tangentially (from the side). The circles at right show the radial
segments as viewed transversely (from the top) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187
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evident that the strategic value of its position is very high. Such again
is, and to a greater degree was, the position of England. The trade of
Holland, Sweden, Russia, Denmark, and that which went up the
great rivers to the interior of Germany, had to pass through the
Channel close by her doors; for sailing-ships hugged the English
coast. This northern trade had, moreover, a peculiar bearing upon
sea power; for naval stores, as they are commonly called, were
mainly drawn from the Baltic countries.
But for the loss of Gibraltar, the position of Spain would have been
closely analogous to that of England. Looking at once upon the
Atlantic and the Mediterranean, with Cadiz on the one side and
Cartagena on the other, the trade to the Levant must have passed
under her hands, and that round the Cape of Good Hope not far from
her doors. But Gibraltar not only deprived her of the control of the
Straits, it also imposed an obstacle to the easy junction of the two
divisions of her fleet.
At the present day, looking only at the geographical position of
Italy, and not at the other conditions affecting her sea power, it
would seem that with her extensive sea-coast and good ports she is
very well placed for exerting a decisive influence on the trade route to
the Levant and by the Isthmus of Suez. This is true in a degree, and
would be much more so did Italy now hold all the islands naturally
Italian; but with Malta in the hands of England, and Corsica in those
of France, the advantages of her geographical position are largely
neutralized. From race affinities and situation those two islands are
as legitimately objects of desire to Italy as Gibraltar is to Spain. If the
Adriatic were a great highway of commerce, Italy’s position would be
still more influential. These defects in her geographical
completeness, combined with other causes injurious to a full and
secure development of sea power, make it more than doubtful
whether Italy can for some time be in the front rank among the sea
nations.
As the aim here is not an exhaustive discussion, but merely an
attempt to show, by illustration, how vitally the situation of a country
may affect its career upon the sea, this division of the subject may be
dismissed for the present; the more so as instances which will further
bring out its importance will continually recur in the historical
treatment. Two remarks, however, are here appropriate.
Circumstances have caused the Mediterranean Sea to play a
greater part in the history of the world, both in a commercial and a
military point of view, than any other sheet of water of the same size.
Nation after nation has striven to control it, and the strife still goes
on. Therefore a study of the conditions upon which preponderance in
its waters has rested, and now rests, and of the relative military
values of different points upon its coasts, will be more instructive
than the same amount of effort expended in another field.
Furthermore, it has at the present time a very marked analogy in
many respects to the Caribbean Sea,—an analogy which will be still
closer if a Panama canal route ever be completed. A study of the
strategic conditions of the Mediterranean, which have received
ample illustration, will be an excellent prelude to a similar study of
the Caribbean, which has comparatively little history.
The second remark bears upon the geographical position of the
United States relatively to a Central-American canal. If one be made,
and fulfil the hopes of its builders, the Caribbean will be changed
from a terminus, and place of local traffic, or at best a broken and
imperfect line of travel, as it now is, into one of the great highways of
the world. Along this path a great commerce will travel, bringing the
interests of the other great nations, the European nations, close
along our shores, as they have never been before. With this it will not
be so easy as heretofore to stand aloof from international
complications. The position of the United States with reference to
this route will resemble that of England to the Channel, and of the
Mediterranean countries to the Suez route. As regards influence and
control over it, depending upon geographical position, it is of course
plain that the center of the national power, the permanent base,[19] is
much nearer than that of other great nations. The positions now or
hereafter occupied by them on island or mainland, however strong,
will be but outposts of their power; while in all the raw materials of
military strength no nation is superior to the United States. She is,
however, weak in a confessed unpreparedness for war; and her
geographical nearness to the point of contention loses some of its
value by the character of the Gulf coast, which is deficient in ports
combining security from an enemy with facility for repairing
warships of the first class, without which ships no country can
pretend to control any part of the sea. In case of a contest for
supremacy in the Caribbean, it seems evident from the depth of the
South Pass of the Mississippi, the nearness of New Orleans, and the
advantages of the Mississippi Valley for water transit, that the main
effort of the country must pour down that valley, and its permanent
base of operations be found there. The defense of the entrance to the
Mississippi, however, presents peculiar difficulties; while the only
two rival ports, Key West and Pensacola, have too little depth of
water, and are much less advantageously placed with reference to the
resources of the country. To get the full benefit of superior
geographical position, these defects must be overcome. Furthermore,
as her distance from the Isthmus, though relatively less, is still
considerable, the United States will have to obtain in the Caribbean
stations fit for contingent, or secondary, bases of operations; which
by their natural advantages, susceptibility of defense, and nearness
to the central strategic issue, will enable her fleets to remain as near
the scene as any opponent. With ingress and egress from the
Mississippi sufficiently protected, with such outposts in her hands,
and with the communications between them and the home base
secured, in short, with proper military preparation, for which she has
all necessary means, the preponderance of the United States on this
field follows, from her geographical position and her power, with
mathematical certainty.
II. Physical Conformation.—The peculiar features of the Gulf

coast, alluded to, come properly under the head of Physical
Conformation of a country, which is placed second for discussion
among the conditions which affect the development of sea power.
The seaboard of a country is one of its frontiers; and the easier the
access offered by the frontier to the region beyond, in this case the
sea, the greater will be the tendency of a people toward intercourse
with the rest of the world by it. If a country be imagined having a
long seaboard, but entirely without a harbor, such a country can have
no sea trade of its own, no shipping, no navy. This was practically the
case with Belgium when it was a Spanish and an Austrian province.
The Dutch, in 1648, as a condition of peace after a successful war,
exacted that the Scheldt should be closed to sea commerce. This
closed the harbor of Antwerp and transferred the sea trade of
Belgium to Holland. The Spanish Netherlands ceased to be a sea
power.
Numerous and deep harbors are a source of strength and wealth,
and doubly so if they are the outlets of navigable streams, which
facilitate the concentration in them of a country’s internal trade; but
by their very accessibility they become a source of weakness in war, if
not properly defended. The Dutch in 1667 found little difficulty in
ascending the Thames and burning a large fraction of the English
navy within sight of London; whereas a few years later the combined
fleets of England and France, when attempting a landing in Holland,
were foiled by the difficulties of the coast as much as by the valor of
the Dutch fleet. In 1778 the harbor of New York, and with it
undisputed control of the Hudson River, would have been lost to the
English, who were caught at disadvantage, but for the hesitancy of
the French admiral. With that control, New England would have
been restored to close and safe communication with New York, New
Jersey, and Pennsylvania; and this blow, following so closely on
Burgoyne’s disaster of the year before, would probably have led the
English to make an earlier peace. The Mississippi is a mighty source
of wealth and strength to the United States; but the feeble defenses
of its mouth and the number of its subsidiary streams penetrating
the country made it a weakness and source of disaster to the
Southern Confederacy. And lastly, in 1814, the occupation of the
Chesapeake and the destruction of Washington gave a sharp lesson
of the dangers incurred through the noblest water-ways, if their
approaches be undefended; a lesson recent enough to be easily
recalled, but which, from the present appearance of the coast
defenses, seems to be yet more easily forgotten. Nor should it be
thought that conditions have changed; circumstances and details of
offense and defense have been modified, in these days as before, but
the great conditions remain the same.
Before and during the great Napoleonic wars, France had no port
for ships-of-the-line east of Brest. How great the advantage to
England, which in the same stretch has two great arsenals, at
Plymouth and at Portsmouth, besides other harbors of refuge and
supply. This defect of conformation has since been remedied by the
works at Cherbourg.
Besides the contour of the coast, involving easy access to the sea,
there are other physical conditions which lead people to the sea or
turn them from it. Although France was deficient in military ports on
the Channel, she had both there and on the ocean, as well as in the
Mediterranean, excellent harbors, favorably situated for trade
abroad, and at the outlet of large rivers, which would foster internal
traffic. But when Richelieu had put an end to civil war, Frenchmen
did not take to the sea with the eagerness and success of the English
and Dutch. A principal reason for this has been plausibly found in
the physical conditions which have made France a pleasant land,
with a delightful climate, producing within itself more than its people
needed. England, on the other hand, received from Nature but little,
and, until her manufactures were developed, had little to export.
Their many wants, combined with their restless activity and other
conditions that favored maritime enterprise, led her people abroad;
and they there found lands more pleasant and richer than their own.
Their needs and genius made them merchants and colonists, then
manufacturers and producers; and between products and colonies
shipping is the inevitable link. So their sea power grew. But if
England was drawn to the sea, Holland was driven to it; without the
sea England languished, but Holland died. In the height of her
greatness, when she was one of the chief factors in European politics,
a competent native authority estimated that the soil of Holland could
not support more than one eighth of her inhabitants. The
manufactures of the country were then numerous and important, but
they had been much later in their growth than the shipping interest.
The poverty of the soil and the exposed nature of the coast drove the
Dutch first to fishing. Then the discovery of the process of curing the
fish gave them material for export as well as home consumption, and
so laid the corner-stone of their wealth. Thus they had become
traders at the time that the Italian republics, under the pressure of
Turkish power and the discovery of the passage round the Cape of
Good Hope, were beginning to decline, and they fell heirs to the great
Italian trade of the Levant. Further favored by their geographical
position, intermediate between the Baltic, France, and the
Mediterranean, and at the mouth of the German rivers, they quickly
absorbed nearly all the carrying-trade of Europe. The wheat and
naval stores of the Baltic, the trade of Spain with her colonies in the
New World, the wines of France, and the French coasting-trade were,
little more than two hundred years ago, transported in Dutch
shipping. Much of the carrying-trade of England, even, was then
done in Dutch bottoms. It will not be pretended that all this
prosperity proceeded only from the poverty of Holland’s natural
resources. Something does not grow from nothing. What is true, is,
that by the necessitous condition of her people they were driven to
the sea, and were, from their mastery of the shipping business and
the size of their fleets, in a position to profit by the sudden expansion
of commerce and the spirit of exploration which followed on the
discovery of America and of the passage round the Cape. Other
causes concurred, but their whole prosperity stood on the sea power
to which their poverty gave birth. Their food, their clothing, the raw
material for their manufactures, the very timber and hemp with
which they built and rigged their ships (and they built nearly as
many as all Europe besides), were imported; and when a disastrous
war with England in 1653 and 1654 had lasted eighteen months, and
their shipping business was stopped, it is said “the sources of
revenue which had always maintained the riches of the State, such as
fisheries and commerce, were almost dry. Workshops were closed,
work was suspended. The Zuyder Zee became a forest of masts; the
country was full of beggars; grass grew in the streets, and in
Amsterdam fifteen hundred houses were untenanted.” A humiliating
peace alone saved them from ruin.
This sorrowful result shows the weakness of a country depending
wholly upon sources external to itself for the part it is playing in the
world. With large deductions, owing to differences of conditions
which need not here be spoken of, the case of Holland then has
strong points of resemblance to that of Great Britain now; and they
are true prophets, though they seem to be having small honor in
their own country, who warn her that the continuance of her
prosperity at home depends primarily upon maintaining her power
abroad. Men may be discontented at the lack of political privilege;
they will be yet more uneasy if they come to lack bread. It is of more
interest to Americans to note that the result to France, regarded as a
power of the sea, caused by the extent, delightfulness, and richness
of the land, has been reproduced in the United States. In the
beginning, their forefathers held a narrow strip of land upon the sea,
fertile in parts though little developed, abounding in harbors and
near rich fishing grounds. These physical conditions combined with
an inborn love of the sea, the pulse of that English blood which still
beat in their veins, to keep alive all those tendencies and pursuits
upon which a healthy sea power depends. Almost every one of the
original colonies was on the sea or on one of its great tributaries. All
export and import tended toward one coast. Interest in the sea and
an intelligent appreciation of the part it played in the public welfare
were easily and widely spread; and a motive more influential than
care for the public interest was also active, for the abundance of ship-
building materials and a relative fewness of other investments made
shipping a profitable private interest. How changed the present
condition is, all know. The center of power is no longer on the
seaboard. Books and newspapers vie with one another in describing
the wonderful growth, and the still undeveloped riches, of the
interior. Capital there finds its best investments, labor its largest
opportunities. The frontiers are neglected and politically weak; the
Gulf and Pacific coasts actually so, the Atlantic coast relatively to the
central Mississippi Valley. When the day comes that shipping again
pays, when the three sea frontiers find that they are not only
militarily weak, but poorer for lack of national shipping, their united
efforts may avail to lay again the foundations of our sea power. Till
then, those who follow the limitations which lack of sea power placed
upon the career of France may mourn that their own country is being
led, by a like redundancy of home wealth, into the same neglect of
that great instrument.
Among modifying physical conditions may be noted a form like
that of Italy,—a long peninsula, with a central range of mountains
dividing it into two narrow strips, along which the roads connecting
the different ports necessarily run. Only an absolute control of the
sea can wholly secure such communications, since it is impossible to
know at what point an enemy coming from beyond the visible
horizon may strike; but still, with an adequate naval force centrally
posted, there will be good hope of attacking his fleet, which is at once
his base and line of communications, before serious damage has
been done. The long, narrow peninsula of Florida, with Key West at
its extremity, though flat and thinly populated, presents at first sight
conditions like those of Italy. The resemblance may be only
superficial, but it seems probable that if the chief scene of a naval
war were the Gulf of Mexico, the communications by land to the end
of the peninsula might be a matter of consequence, and open to
attack.
When the sea not only borders, or surrounds, but also separates a
country into two or more parts, the control of it becomes not only
desirable, but vitally necessary. Such a physical condition either gives
birth and strength to sea power, or makes the country powerless.
Such is the condition of the present kingdom of Italy, with its islands
of Sardinia and Sicily; and hence in its youth and still existing
financial weakness it is seen to put forth such vigorous and
intelligent efforts to create a military navy. It has even been argued
that, with a navy decidedly superior to her enemy’s, Italy could better
base her power upon her islands than upon her mainland; for the
insecurity of the lines of communication in the peninsula, already
pointed out, would most seriously embarrass an invading army
surrounded by a hostile people and threatened from the sea.
The Irish Sea, separating the British Islands, rather resembles an
estuary than an actual division; but history has shown the danger
from it to the United Kingdom. In the days of Louis XIV, when the
French navy nearly equalled the combined English and Dutch, the
gravest complications existed in Ireland, which passed almost wholly
under the control of the natives and the French. Nevertheless, the
Irish Sea was rather a danger to the English—a weak point in their
communications—than an advantage to the French. The latter did
not venture their ships-of-the-line in its narrow waters, and
expeditions intending to land were directed upon the ocean ports in
the south and west. At the supreme moment the great French fleet
was sent upon the south coast of England, where it decisively
defeated the allies, and at the same time twenty-five frigates were
sent to St. George’s Channel, against the English communications. In
the midst of a hostile people, the English army in Ireland was
seriously imperiled, but was saved by the battle of the Boyne and
flight of James II. This movement against the enemy’s
communications was strictly strategic, and would be as dangerous to
England now as in 1690.
Spain, in the same century, afforded an impressive lesson of the
weakness caused by such separation when the parts are not knit
together by a strong sea power. She then still retained, as remnants
of her past greatness, the Netherlands (now Belgium), Sicily, and
other Italian possessions, not to speak of her vast colonies in the New
World. Yet so low had the Spanish sea power fallen, that a well-
informed and sober-minded Hollander of the day could claim that
“in Spain all the coast is navigated by a few Dutch ships; and since
the peace of 1648 their ships and seamen are so few that they have
publicly begun to hire our ships to sail to the Indies, whereas they
were formerly careful to exclude all foreigners from there.... It is
manifest,” he goes on, “that the West Indies, being as the stomach to
Spain (for from it nearly all the revenue is drawn), must be joined to
the Spanish head by a sea force; and that Naples and the
Netherlands, being like two arms, they cannot lay out their strength
for Spain, nor receive anything thence but by shipping,—all which
may easily be done by our shipping in peace, and by it obstructed in
war.” Half a century before, Sully, the great minister of Henry IV,
had characterized Spain “as one of those States whose legs and arms
are strong and powerful, but the heart infinitely weak and feeble.”
Since his day the Spanish navy had suffered not only disaster, but
annihilation; not only humiliation, but degradation. The
consequences briefly were that shipping was destroyed;
manufactures perished with it. The government depended for its
support, not upon a widespread healthy commerce and industry that
could survive many a staggering blow, but upon a narrow stream of
silver trickling through a few treasure-ships from America, easily and
frequently intercepted by an enemy’s cruisers. The loss of half a
dozen galleons more than once paralyzed its movements for a year.
While the war in the Netherlands lasted, the Dutch control of the sea
forced Spain to send her troops by a long and costly journey overland
instead of by sea; and the same cause reduced her to such straits for
necessaries that, by a mutual arrangement which seems very odd to
modern ideas, her wants were supplied by Dutch ships, which thus
maintained the enemies of their country, but received in return
specie which was welcome in the Amsterdam exchange. In America,
the Spanish protected themselves as best they might behind
masonry, unaided from home; while in the Mediterranean they
escaped insult and injury mainly through the indifference of the
Dutch, for the French and English had not yet begun to contend for
mastery there. In the course of history the Netherlands, Naples,
Sicily, Minorca, Havana, Manila, and Jamaica were wrenched away,
at one time or another, from this empire without a shipping. In
short, while Spain’s maritime impotence may have been primarily a
symptom of her general decay, it became a marked factor in
precipitating her into the abyss from which she has not yet wholly
emerged.
Except Alaska, the United States has no outlying possession,—no
foot of ground inaccessible by land. Its contour is such as to present
few points specially weak from their saliency, and all important parts
of the frontiers can be readily attained,—cheaply by water, rapidly by
rail. The weakest frontier, the Pacific, is far removed from the most
dangerous of possible enemies. The internal resources are boundless
as compared with present needs; we can live off ourselves
indefinitely in “our little corner,” to use the expression of a French
officer to the author. Yet should that little corner be invaded by a
new commercial route through the Isthmus, the United States in her
turn may have the rude awakening of those who have abandoned
their share in the common birthright of all people, the sea.
III. Extent of Territory.—The last of the conditions affecting the

development of a nation as a sea power, and touching the country
itself as distinguished from the people who dwell there, is Extent of
Territory. This may be dismissed with comparatively few words.
As regards the development of sea power, it is not the total number
of square miles which a country contains, but the length of its coast-
line and the character of its harbors that are to be considered. As to
these it is to be said that, the geographical and physical conditions
being the same, extent of sea-coast is a source of strength or
weakness according as the population is large or small. A country is
in this like a fortress; the garrison must be proportioned to the
enceinte. A recent familiar instance is found in the American War of
Secession. Had the South had a people as numerous as it was
warlike, and a navy commensurate to its other resources as a sea
power, the great extent of its sea-coast and its numerous inlets would
have been elements of great strength. The people of the United States
and the Government of that day justly prided themselves on the
effectiveness of the blockade of the whole Southern coast. It was a
great feat, a very great feat; but it would have been an impossible feat
had the Southerners been more numerous, and a nation of seamen.
What was there shown was not, as has been said, how such a
blockade can be maintained, but that such a blockade is possible in
the face of a population not only unused to the sea, but also scanty in
numbers. Those who recall how the blockade was maintained, and
the class of ships that blockaded during great part of the war, know
that the plan, correct under the circumstances, could not have been
carried out in the face of a real navy. Scattered unsupported along
the coast, the United States ships kept their places, singly or in small
detachments, in face of an extensive network of inland water
communications which favored secret concentration of the enemy.
Behind the first line of water communications were long estuaries,
and here and there strong fortresses, upon either of which the
enemy’s ships could always fall back to elude pursuit or to receive
protection. Had there been a Southern navy to profit by such
advantages, or by the scattered condition of the United States ships,
the latter could not have been distributed as they were; and being
forced to concentrate for mutual support, many small but useful
approaches would have been left open to commerce. But as the
Southern coast, from its extent and many inlets, might have been a
source of strength, so, from those very characteristics, it became a
fruitful source of injury. The great story of the opening of the
Mississippi is but the most striking illustration of an action that was
going on incessantly all over the South. At every breach of the sea
frontier, warships were entering. The streams that had carried the
wealth and supported the trade of the seceding States turned against
them, and admitted their enemies to their hearts. Dismay, insecurity,
paralysis, prevailed in regions that might, under happier auspices,
have kept a nation alive through the most exhausting war. Never did
sea power play a greater or a more decisive part than in the contest
which determined that the course of the world’s history would be
modified by the existence of one great nation, instead of several rival
States, in the North American continent. But while just pride is felt
in the well-earned glory of those days, and the greatness of the
results due to naval preponderance is admitted, Americans who
understand the facts should never fail to remind the overconfidence
of their countrymen that the South not only had no navy, not only
was not a seafaring people, but that also its population was not
proportioned to the extent of the sea-coast which it had to defend.
IV. Number of Population.—After the consideration of the natural
conditions of a country should follow an examination of the
characteristics of its population as affecting the development of sea
power; and first among these will be taken, because of its relations to
the extent of the territory, which has just been discussed, the number
of the people who live in it. It has been said that in respect of
dimensions it is not merely the number of square miles, but the
extent and character of the sea-coast that is to be considered with
reference to sea power; and so, in point of population, it is not only
the grand total, but the number following the sea, or at least readily
available for employment on shipboard and for the creation of naval
material, that must be counted.
For example, formerly and up to the end of the great wars
following the French Revolution, the population of France was much
greater than that of England; but in respect of sea power in general,
peaceful commerce as well as military efficiency, France was much
inferior to England. In the matter of military efficiency this fact is the
more remarkable because at times, in point of military preparation at
the outbreak of war, France had the advantage; but she was not able
to keep it. Thus in 1778, when war broke out, France, through her
maritime inscription, was able to man at once fifty ships-of-the-line.
England, on the contrary, by reason of the dispersal over the globe of
that very shipping on which her naval strength so securely rested,
had much trouble in manning forty at home; but in 1782 she had one
hundred and twenty in commission or ready for commission, while
France had never been able to exceed seventy-one.
[The need is further shown, not only of a large seafaring
population, but of skilled mechanics and artisans to facilitate ship
construction and repair and supply capable recruits for the navy.—
Editor.]
... That our own country is open to the same reproach is patent to
all the world. The United States has not that shield of defensive
power behind which time can be gained to develop its reserve of
strength. As for a seafaring population adequate to her possible
needs, where is it? Such a resource, proportionate to her coast-line
and population, is to be found only in a national merchant shipping
and its related industries, which at present scarcely exist. It will
matter little whether the crews of such ships are native or foreign
born, provided they are attached to the flag, and her power at sea is
sufficient to enable the most of them to get back in case of war. When
foreigners by thousands are admitted to the ballot, it is of little
moment that they are given fighting-room on board ship.
Though the treatment of the subject has been somewhat
discursive, it may be admitted that a great population following
callings related to the sea is, now as formerly, a great element of sea
power; that the United States is deficient in that element; and that its
foundations can be laid only in a large commerce under her own flag.
V. National Character.—The effect of national character and
aptitudes upon the development of sea power will next be
considered.
If sea power be really based upon a peaceful and extensive
commerce, aptitude for commercial pursuits must be a
distinguishing feature of the nations that have at one time or another
been great upon the sea. History almost without exception affirms
that this is true. Save the Romans, there is no marked instance to the
contrary.
[Here follows a survey, covering several pages, of the commercial
history and colonial policies of Spain, Holland, and Great Britain.—
Editor.]
... The fact of England’s unique and wonderful success as a great
colonizing nation is too evident to be dwelt upon; and the reason for
it appears to lie chiefly in two traits of the national character. The
English colonist naturally and readily settles down in his new
country, identifies his interest with it, and though keeping an
affectionate remembrance of the home from which he came, has no
restless eagerness to return. In the second place, the Englishman at
once and instinctively seeks to develop the resources of the new
country in the broadest sense. In the former particular he differs
from the French, who were ever longingly looking back to the
delights of their pleasant land; in the latter, from the Spaniards,
whose range of interest and ambition was too narrow for the full
evolution of the possibilities of a new country.
The character and the necessities of the Dutch led them naturally
to plant colonies; and by the year 1650 they had in the East Indies, in
Africa, and in America a large number, only to name which would be
tedious. They were then far ahead of England in this matter. But
though the origin of these colonies, purely commercial in its
character, was natural, there seems to have been lacking to them a
principle of growth. “In planting them they never sought an
extension of empire, but merely an acquisition of trade and
commerce. They attempted conquest only when forced by the
pressure of circumstances. Generally they were content to trade
under the protection of the sovereign of the country.” This placid
satisfaction with gain alone, unaccompanied by political ambition,
tended, like the despotism of France and Spain, to keep the colonies
mere commercial dependencies upon the mother-country, and so
killed the natural principle of growth.
Before quitting this head of the inquiry, it is well to ask how far the
national character of Americans is fitted to develop a great sea
power, should other circumstances become favorable.
It seems scarcely necessary, however, to do more than appeal to a
not very distant past to prove that, if legislative hindrances be
removed, and more remunerative fields of enterprise filled up, the
sea power will not long delay its appearance. The instinct for
commerce, bold enterprise in pursuit of gain, and a keen scent for
trails that lead to it, all exist; and if there be in the future any fields
calling for colonization, it cannot be doubted that Americans will
carry to them all their inherited aptitude for self-government and
independent growth.
VI. Character of the Government.—In discussing the effects upon
the development of a nation’s sea power exerted by its government
and institutions, it will be necessary to avoid a tendency to over-
philosophizing, to confine attention to obvious and immediate causes
and their plain results, without prying too far beneath the surface for
remote and ultimate influences.
Nevertheless, it must be noted that particular forms of government
with their accompanying institutions, and the character of rulers at
one time or another, have exercised a very marked influence upon
the development of sea power. The various traits of a country and its
people which have so far been considered constitute the natural
characteristics with which a nation, like a man, begins its career; the
conduct of the government in turn corresponds to the exercise of the
intelligent will-power, which, according as it is wise, energetic and
persevering, or the reverse, causes success or failure in a man’s life or
a nation’s history.
It would seem probable that a government in full accord with the
natural bias of its people would most successfully advance its growth
in every respect; and, in the matter of sea power, the most brilliant
successes have followed where there has been intelligent direction by
a government fully imbued with the spirit of the people and
conscious of its true general bent. Such a government is most
certainly secured when the will of the people, or of their best natural
exponents, has some large share in making it; but such free
governments have sometimes fallen short, while on the other hand
despotic power, wielded with judgment and consistency, has created
at times a great sea commerce and a brilliant navy with greater
directness than can be reached by the slower processes of a free
people. The difficulty in the latter case is to insure perseverance after
the death of a particular despot.
England having undoubtedly reached the greatest height of sea
power of any modern nation, the action of her government first
claims attention. In general direction this action has been consistent,
though often far from praiseworthy. It has aimed steadily at the
control of the sea.
[The remainder of the chapter, quoted in part on pp. 141–146,
outlines the extension of Great Britain’s trade and sea power during
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.—Editor.]
4. Definition of Terms[20]
Strategy, Tactics, Logistics
“Strategy,” says Jomini, speaking of the art of war on land, “is the art
of making war upon the map, and comprehends the whole theater of
warlike operations. Grand tactics is the art of posting troops upon
the battlefield, according to the accidents of the ground; of bringing
them into action; and the art of fighting upon the ground in
contradistinction to planning upon a map. Its operations may extend
over a field of ten or twelve miles in extent. Strategy decides where to
act. Grand tactics decides the manner of execution and the
employment of troops,” when, by the combinations of strategy, they
have been assembled at the point of action.
... Between Strategy and Grand Tactics comes logically Logistics.
Strategy decides where to act; Logistics is the act of moving armies; it
brings the troops to the point of action and controls questions of
supply; Grand Tactics decides the methods of giving battle.
5. Fundamental Principles[21]
Central Position, Interior Lines, Communications
The situation here used in illustration is taken from the Thirty Years’
War, 1618–1648, in which the French House of Bourbon opposed the
House of Austria, the latter controlling Spain, Austria, and parts of
Germany. France lay between Spain and Austria; but if Spain
commanded the sea, her forces could reach the field of conflict in
central Europe either by way of Belgium or by way of the Duchy of
Milan in northern Italy, both of which were under her rule.
[The upper course of the Danube between Ulm and Ratisbon is
also employed to illustrate central position, dominating the great
European theater of war north of the Alps and east of the Rhine.—
Editor.]
The situation of France relatively to her two opponents of this
period—Spain and Austria—illustrates three elements of strategy, of
frequent mention, which it is well here to name and to define, as well
as to illustrate by the instance before you.
1. There is central position, illustrated by France; her national
power and control interposing by land between her enemies. Yet not
by land only, provided the coast supports an adequate navy; for, if
that be the case, the French fleet also interposes between Spanish
and Italian ports. The Danube is similarly an instance of central
position.
2. Interior lines. The characteristic of interior lines is that of the
central position prolonged in one or more directions, thus favoring
sustained interposition between separate bodies of an enemy; with
the consequent power to concentrate against either, while holding
the other in check with a force possibly distinctly inferior. An interior
line may be conceived as the extension of a central position, or as a
series of central positions connected with one another, as a
geometrical line is a continuous series of geometrical points. The
expression “Interior Lines” conveys the meaning that from a central
position one can assemble more rapidly on either of two opposite
fronts than the enemy can, and therefore can utilize force more
effectively. Particular examples of maritime interior lines are found
in the route by Suez as compared with that by the Cape of Good
Hope, and in Panama contrasted with Magellan. The Kiel Canal
similarly affords an interior line between the Baltic and North Sea, as
against the natural channels passing round Denmark, or between the
Danish Islands,—the Sound and the two Belts.[22] These instances of
“Interior” will recall one of your boyhood’s geometrical theorems,
demonstrating that, from a point interior to a triangle, lines drawn to
two angles are shorter than the corresponding sides of the triangle
itself. Briefly, interior lines are lines shorter in time than those the
enemy can use. France, for instance, in the case before us, could
march twenty thousand men to the Rhine, or to the Pyrenees, or
could send necessary supplies to either, sooner than Spain could
send the same number to the Rhine, or Austria to the Pyrenees,
granting even that the sea were open to their ships.
3. The position of France relatively to Germany and Spain
illustrates also the question of communications. “Communications”
is a general term, designating the lines of movement by which a
military body, army or fleet, is kept in living connection with the
national power. This being the leading characteristic of
communications, they may be considered essentially lines of
defensive action; while interior lines are rather offensive in
character, enabling the belligerent favored by them to attack in force
one part of the hostile line sooner than the enemy can reinforce it,
because the assailant is nearer than the friend. As a concrete
instance, the disastrous attempt already mentioned, of Spain in 1639
to send reinforcements by the Channel, followed the route from
Corunna to the Straits of Dover. It did so because at that particular
moment the successes of France had given her control of part of the
valley of the Rhine, closing it to the Spaniards from Milan; while the
more eastern route through Germany was barred by the Swedes, who
in the Thirty Years’ War were allies of France. The Channel therefore
at that moment remained the only road open from Spain to the
Netherlands, between which it became the line of communications.
Granting the attempt had been successful, the line followed is
exterior; for, assuming equal rapidity of movement, ten thousand
men starting from central France should reach the field sooner.
The central position of France, therefore, gave both defensive and
offensive advantage. In consequence of the position she had interior
lines, shorter lines, by which to attack, and also her communications
to either front lay behind the front, were covered by the army at the
front; in other words, had good defense, besides being shorter than
those by which the enemy on one front could send help to the other
front. Further, by virtue of her position, the French ports on the
Atlantic and Channel flanked the Spanish sea communications.
At the present moment, Germany and Austria-Hungary, as
members of the Triple Alliance, have the same advantage of central
and concentrated position against the Triple Entente, Russia, France,
and Great Britain.
Transfer now your attention back to the Danube when the scene of
war is in that region; as it was in 1796, and also frequently was
during the period of which we are now speaking.... You have seen
before, that, if there be war between Austria and France, as there so
often was, the one who held the Danube had a central position in the
region. Holding means possession by military power, which power
can be used to the full against the North or against the South—
offensive power—far more easily than the South and North can
combine against him; because he is nearer to each than either is to
the other. (See map.) Should North wish to send a big reinforcement
to South, it cannot march across the part of the Danube held, but
must march around it above or below; exactly as, in 1640,
reinforcements from Spain to the Rhine had, so to say, to march
around France. In such a march, on land, the reinforcement making
it is necessarily in a long column, because roads do not allow a great
many men to walk abreast. The road followed designates in fact the
alignment of the reinforcement from day to day; and because its
advance continually turns the side to the enemy, around whom it is
moving, the enemy’s position is said to flank the movement,
constituting a recognized danger. It makes no difference whether the
line of march is straight or curved; it is extension upon it that
constitutes the danger, because the line itself, being thin, is
everywhere weak, liable to an attack in force upon a relatively small
part of its whole. Communications are exposed, and the enemy has
the interior line....
This is an illustration of the force of Napoleon’s saying, that “War
is a business of positions.” All this discussion turns on position; the
ordinary, semi-permanent, positions of Center, North, and South; or
the succession of positions occupied by the detachment on that line
of communications along which it moves. This illustrates the
importance of positions in a single instance, but is by no means
exhaustive of that importance. Fully to comprehend, it is necessary
to study military and naval history; bearing steadily in mind
Napoleon’s saying, and the definitions of central position, interior
lines, and communications.
Take, for example, an instance so recent as to have been
contemporary with men not yet old,—the Turkish position at Plevna
in 1877. This stopped the Russian advance on Constantinople for
almost five months. Why? Because, if they had gone on, Plevna
would have been close to their line of communications, and in a
central position relatively to their forces at the front and those in the
rear, or behind the Danube. It was also so near, that, if the enemy
advanced far, the garrison of Plevna could reach the only bridge
across the Danube, at Sistova, and might destroy it, before help could
come; that is, Plevna possessed an interior line towards a point of the
utmost importance. Under these circumstances, Plevna alone

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ARCHAEOLOGIST S LABORATORY the

analysis of archaeological evidence

Food Analysis Laboratory Manual 3rd Edition S. Suzanne

Data Analysis for Business Decision Making: A

The Oxford Handbook of Archaeological Ceramic Analysis

Fingerprint analysis laboratory workbook Second Edition

Multivariate analysis for the behavioral sciences 2nd

My People as Your People A Textual and Archaeological

Arts Crafts and Trades in Ancient and Byzantine

Alternative Iron Ages Social Theory from Archaeological

# Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020

Toronto, ON, Canada Edward B. Banning

The book has two main parts.

and, in some cases, an example to illustrate how it works.

Toronto, ON, Canada Edward B. Banning

1 What Are Data? Measurements and Errors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

3.4.2 Fuzzy Grouping and Bayesian Grouping as Responses to

6.2 The Scientiﬁc Cycle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87

8.2 Probability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130

11.6 Economizing Behavior and Design in Stone Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175

14.2.5 Bull-Roarers, Whistles and Flutes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236

16.12 Reconstructing Paleodiets, Foodways and Plant Use . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285

20.6.1 Credible Intervals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 343

Ted Banning is a Canadian archaeologist and professor of Anthropology at University of

Fig. 3.3 Histogram of a multimodal distribution of Harrapan cube-shaped weights

II. Physical Conformation.—The peculiar features of the Gulf

III. Extent of Territory.—The last of the conditions affecting the

Strategy, Tactics, Logistics

Central Position, Interior Lines, Communications

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