Textbook Cognitive Models in Palaeolithic Archaeology 1St Edition Coolidge Ebook All Chapter PDF

Cognitive models in palaeolithic
archaeology 1st Edition Coolidge

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://textbookfull.com/product/cognitive-models-in-palaeolithic-archaeology-1st-editi
on-coolidge/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...
Computational Models for Cognitive Vision 1st Edition

Hiranmay Ghosh
https://textbookfull.com/product/computational-models-for-
cognitive-vision-1st-edition-hiranmay-ghosh/
Dorothy Garrod and the Progress of the Palaeolithic

Studies in the Prehistoric Archaeology of the Near East
and Europe William Davies (Editor)
https://textbookfull.com/product/dorothy-garrod-and-the-progress-
of-the-palaeolithic-studies-in-the-prehistoric-archaeology-of-
the-near-east-and-europe-william-davies-editor/
Dorothy Garrod and the Progress of the Palaeolithic

Studies in the Prehistoric Archaeology of the Near East
and Europe William Davies Editor Ruth Charles Editor
https://textbookfull.com/product/dorothy-garrod-and-the-progress-
of-the-palaeolithic-studies-in-the-prehistoric-archaeology-of-
the-near-east-and-europe-william-davies-editor-ruth-charles-
editor/
Assemblage Thought and Archaeology Themes in

Archaeology Series 1st Edition Ben Jervis
https://textbookfull.com/product/assemblage-thought-and-
archaeology-themes-in-archaeology-series-1st-edition-ben-jervis/
Calculus for Cognitive Scientists Derivatives Integrals
and Models 1st Edition James K. Peterson
https://textbookfull.com/product/calculus-for-cognitive-
scientists-derivatives-integrals-and-models-1st-edition-james-k-
peterson/
Calculus for Cognitive Scientists Higher Order Models

and Their Analysis 1st Edition James K. Peterson
https://textbookfull.com/product/calculus-for-cognitive-
scientists-higher-order-models-and-their-analysis-1st-edition-
james-k-peterson/
Evidential Reasoning in Archaeology 1st Edition Robert

Chapman
https://textbookfull.com/product/evidential-reasoning-in-
archaeology-1st-edition-robert-chapman/
An archaeology of innovation Approaching social and

technological change in human society Social
Archaeology and Material Worlds 1st Edition Frieman
Catherine J
https://textbookfull.com/product/an-archaeology-of-innovation-
approaching-social-and-technological-change-in-human-society-
social-archaeology-and-material-worlds-1st-edition-frieman-
catherine-j/
Archaeology and Photography 1st Edition Lesley Mcfadyen
https://textbookfull.com/product/archaeology-and-photography-1st-
edition-lesley-mcfadyen/
i
Cognitive Models
in Palaeolithic Archaeology
ii
iii
Cognitive Models
in Palaeolithic
Archaeology
EDITED BY
THOMAS WYNN
and
FREDERICK L . CO OLID GE
1
iv
3
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers
the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education
by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University
Press in the UK and certain other countries.
Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press

198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America.
© Oxford University Press 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in

a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the
prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted
by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction
rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the
above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the
address above.
You must not circulate this work in any other form

and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Wynn, Thomas Grant, 1949– editor. | Coolidge, Frederick L.
(Frederick Lawrence), 1948– editor.
Title: Cognitive models in palaeolithic archaeology / edited by Thomas Wynn
and Frederick L. Coolidge.
Description: Oxford ; New York : Oxford University Press, 2017. | Includes index. |
“Cognitive Models in Palaeolithic Archaeology grew out of a specialized thematic session that we
organized for the 2013 meeting of the European Society for the Study of Human Evolution.”
Identifiers: LCCN 2016013639 | ISBN 9780190204112 (alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Archaeology. | Cognition and culture. | Cognition—History. |
Human evolution. | Prehistoric peoples. | Paleolithic period. | Psychology, Comparative.
Classification: LCC CC175 .C634 2017 | DDC 930.1—dc23 LC record available
at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016013639
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Printed by Sheridan Books, Inc., United States of America

v
CONTENTS
Preface vii
List of Contributors ix
1. Evolutionary Cognitive Archaeology 1

Thomas W ynn
2. The Expert Cognition Model in Human Evolutionary Studies 21

T h o m a s W y n n , M i r i a m H a i d l e , M a r l i z e L o m b a r d,
and Frederick L. Coolidge
3. Toward a Richer Theoretical Scaffolding for Interpreting Archaeological

Evidence Concerning Cognitive Evolution 45
P h i l i p B a r n a r d, I a i n Dav i d s o n , a n d R i c h a r d W. B y r n e
4. Material Engagement and the Embodied Mind 69

Lambros Malafouris
5. Materiality and Numerical Cognition: A Material Engagement

Theory Perspective 89
Karenleigh A. Overmann
6. Art Without Symbolic Mind: Embodied Cognition and the Origins

of Visual Artistic Behavior 113
M a n u e l M a r t í n - L o e c h e s
7. Deciphering Patterns in the Archaeology of South Africa:

The Neurovisual Resonance Theory 133
Derek Hodgson
8. Accessing Hominin Cognition: Language and Social Signaling in

the Lower to Middle Palaeolithic 157
Ja m e s C o l e
v
vi
vi Contents
9. Bootstrapping Ordinal Thinking 197

Thomas W ynn, Karenleigh A. Overmann, Frederick L. Coolidge,
a n d K l i n t Ja n u l i s
10. Epilogue: Models, Puddings, and the Puzzle 215

Frederick L. Coolidge and Thomas W ynn
Index 221
vii
P R E FA C E
Cognitive Models in Palaeolithic Archaeology grew out of a specialized thematic

session that we organized for the 2013 meeting of the European Society for the
Study of Human Evolution. The previous decade had seen an increasing num-
ber of articles and books that included reference to the cognitive capabilities
of early hominins, but many of their conclusions were underdetermined in a
theoretical sense. It was impossible, based on the evidence alone, to determine
which interpretations were more likely. For example, were the engraved patterns
found on South African Middle Stone Age artifacts evidence of symbolic think-
ing or something else? Simply compiling more evidence will never resolve the
disagreement.
It has long been our contention that an evolutionary cognitive archaeology
is certainly possible but for it to carry any persuasive weight—for there to be a
basis for choosing between competing claims—evolutionary cognitive archaeol-
ogy must be grounded in cognitive science itself. The chapters in this volume all
rely on formal cognitive models and thus produce well-grounded claims for a
variety of components in Palaeolithic cognition. Because they are well-grounded,
they are also open to equally well-grounded critiques, opening the way for pro-
ductive discussions about the evolution of the hominin mind.
We would like to thank the board of the European Society for the Study of
Human Evolution for their support in developing the original session, Joan
Bossert and Lynn Luecken at Oxford University Press, and the anonymous
reviewer of the original chapter texts.
Thomas Wynn
Frederick L. Coolidge
vii
viii
ix
L I ST O F CO N T R I B U TO R S
Philip Barnard Miriam Haidle

MRC Cognition and Brain Role of Culture in Early Expansions of
Sciences Unit Humans Research Center
England Heidelberg Academy of Sciences and
Humanities
Richard W. Byrne
Senckenberg Research Institute
University of St Andrews
Institut für Ur-und Frühgeschichte
Scotland
und Archäologie des Mittelalters
James Cole Dept. Older Prehistory and
School of Environment and Quaternary Ecology
Technology Cognitive Archaeology Unit
University of Brighton Germany
England
Derek Hodgson
Frederick L. Coolidge Department of Archaeology
Center for Cognitive Archaeology University of York
University of Colorado, Colorado England
Springs
Klint Janulis
USA
School of Archaeology
Iain Davidson University of Oxford, St. Cross College
University of New England England
Australia Center for Cognitive Archaeology
University of Colorado, Colorado
Springs
USA
ix
x
x List of Contributors
Marlize Lombard Karenleigh A. Overmann

Department of Anthropology and School of Archaeology
Development Studies University of Oxford, Keble College
University of Johannesburg, England
Auckland Park Campus Center for Cognitive Archaeology
South Africa University of Colorado, Colorado Springs
USA
Lambros Malafouris
Institute of Archaeology Thomas Wynn
University of Oxford Center for Cognitive Archaeology
England University of Colorado, Colorado Springs
USA
Manuel Martín-Loeches
Center for Human Evolution
and Behavior,
UCM-ISCIII
Psychobiology Department
Universidad Complutense
Spain
xi
Cognitive Models
in Palaeolithic Archaeology
xii
1
Evolutionary Cognitive Archaeology

Thomas Wynn
Introduction
Evolutionary cognitive archaeology (ECA) is a branch of prehistoric archaeol-
ogy that focuses on the evolution of the human mind. As such, its geographic
and temporal remit is vast, encompassing all of human thought from the
first stone tools 3.3 million years ago to the appearance of human civilization
some 5,000 years ago. Yet despite this huge potential database for systematic
research, ECA practitioners remain relatively few. It cannot be that the topic
itself is inherently uninteresting—we humans pride ourselves in our intellectual
acumen, and surely the story of how this evolved would fascinate many. Instead,
the dearth of participants can be traced to the methodological challenge and to
the quirks of intellectual history. To study the evolution of mind, one must know
something about the mind, and for archaeologists this means engaging a litera-
ture with which they have little familiarity. Archaeology and cognitive science
share little in the way of a common intellectual history. It is not that the two dis-
ciplines are hostile; they just have rarely encountered one another in pursuing
a shared goal. Archaeologists are far more likely to be familiar with geography,
geology, or history. Moreover, because they are ignorant of basic cognitive sci-
ence, many archaeologists feel that there is something “soft” about studying the
mind or that “paleo-psychology” is somehow akin to dowsing or New Age tran-
scendentalism. But the basic methodological stance of cognitive archaeology is
no different from that of other archaeologies. Prehistoric minds are no more
remote than prehistoric social systems. Both require careful reasoning about the
significance of archaeological patterns, and both require deployment of formal
models. Common sense understandings of the mind based on self-reflection
are not the basis of cognitive science. Instead, cognitive science relies on formal
models tested through experimental protocols and sophisticated quantitative
techniques. It is not a soft science; its models have tremendous interpretive
1
2
2 Cognitive Models in Pal aeolithic Archaeology
power. The challenge lies in applying these models to the peculiarities of archae-
ological evidence.
The evolution of the human mind has been a topic of scientific interest since
the time of Darwin and, indeed, was a particular interest of Alfred Wallace
(Gould, 2002). Prior to the discovery of hominin fossils, scientists interested
in the evolution of mind were limited to the comparative evidence, both zoo-
logical and ethnographic. Not surprisingly, given the Victorian enthusiasm for
progress and the global expansion of European culture, interpretations were
heavily biased by the prevailing opinions of human uniqueness and European
superiority. These biases continued even after the discoveries of Pithecanthropus
by Eugène Dubois and Australopithecus by Raymond Dart and largely explain
the embarrassing scientific flap over the Piltdown hoax. By the mid-twentieth
century, paleoanthropology had become perhaps too reticent to discuss the evo-
lution of mind, reducing it to the single unadorned measure of cranial capacity.
But this began to change in the 1960s with the development of replicable tech-
niques for making endocranial casts allowing discussion of brain shape.
Today cognitive evolution, as it is now termed, is the focus of a multipronged
assault that engages scholars from several different disciplines. For hominin
cognitive evolution, there are four primary approaches, each relying on differ-
ent datasets and, all too often, different theories. The four are paleoneurology,
evolutionary psychology, primatology, and evolutionary cognitive archaeology.
Paleoneurology
Studies of brain evolution, both size and shape, constitute the most often cited
evidence of cognitive evolution in the paleoanthropological literature despite
the serious difficulties of arguing from brain anatomy to cognitive function.
Paleoneurology is the study of the evolution of the brain using fossil remains.
Vertebrate fossils occasionally include fossilized brain cases, and, from these,
paleontologists can study brain size and also features of shape. Interest in paleo-
neurology grew dramatically after the publication Jerison’s landmark book,
Evolution of Brain and Intelligence (Jerison, 1973), in which he used endocasts of
brain cases to demonstrate a strong correlation among major vertebrate groups
between brain shape and salient features of adaptive niche. Brain differences
between more closely related taxa are more subtle, both in terms of relative brain
size and specifics of shape. The lack of surface detail on endocasts meant that
attempts to locate all but the most obvious sulci and gyri were mostly unsuccess-
ful. It was, however, possible to recognize and describe changes in hemispheric
asymmetry, including differential enlargement or reduction of some important
structures (Holloway, 1983; Holloway, Broadfield, & Yuan, 2004). The enlarge-
ment of Broca’s cap early in the evolution of the genus Homo is arguably the most
3
Evolutionar y Cog nitive A rchaeol og y 3
provocative example. Interpreting observed differences in gross brain anatomy

has been much more difficult and, to this day, continues to be the source of much
naïve speculation (as when Villa and Roebroeks [2014] asserted that the differ-
ence in brain size and shape between Neandertals and modern humans had no
behavioral implications). More recently nondestructive/intrusive imaging tech-
niques have supplemented endocasts, and 3-D morphometrics have provided
much finer descriptions of shape differences (Bruner, 2003, 2004).
Jerison also introduced the encephlazation quotient (EQ), which is a measure
of how much larger or smaller a brain is compared to its predicted size based
on body weight. EQ quickly became a popular measure because it enabled pale-
ontologists to compare different taxa in terms of how encephalized they were,
the implication being that more encephalized taxa had more neural resources
devoted to various higher cognitive functions, including intelligence (the simi-
larity to IQ was probably intended). As a way of comparing large, inclusive taxa
(e.g., ungulates vs. rodents), EQ has shown considerable utility but even at the
level of comparing primates to one another it is problematic and in studying
early hominins it encounters many difficulties, not the least of which is measur-
ing body size (an important component of the calculation).
Evolutionary Psychology
During the 1970s, a second, largely independent approach to human cognitive
evolution grew out of the controversy surrounding the application of sociobio-
logical concepts to human sociality. The initial impetus for this approach was
E. O. Wilson’s seminal Sociobiology (Wilson, 1975), which presented social behav-
ior as a Darwinian phenomenon resulting from individuals striving to maximize
their own reproductive success. Sociobiology was tremendously influential in the
study of nonhuman behavior but created a furor when applied to humans. The
term “sociobiology” itself became anathema in many anthropological circles,
where even today advocates are often treated with derision. But the idea that
human sociality can best be understood as a Darwinian phenomenon is a pow-
erful one, and its advocates largely fled to a new academic home—evolutionary
psychology. Prior to the 1970s, psychologists rarely concerned themselves with
evolution, and when early evolutionary psychologists such as David Buss (e.g.,
Buss & Barnes, 1986) applied Darwinian models to experimental results, they
made an immediate impact.
Evolutionary psychology relies almost exclusively on a single method of
enquiry—reverse engineering. If one can identify what a cognitive component
is designed to do—usually through carefully designed experimental protocols—
one can understand how and why it evolved. Evolutionary psychologists coined
the concept of environment of evolutionary adaptedness (EEA), which is a
4
heuristic that encompasses conditions in the evolutionary past that selected for
psychological profiles in the present. Note that actual evidence about the evo-
lutionary past is not required, only a thorough description of the psychological
trait of interest. Evolutionary psychology is today a robust discipline with sev-
eral influential journals.
Primatology
The third leg of the evolutionary approach to cognition is supplied by prima-
tology. The comparative method has long been a pillar of evolutionary science,
and knowledge of primate anatomy and behavior has been central to reason-
ing about human evolution since the time of Darwin, Owen, and Huxley. Before
one can even begin to ask about hominin cognitive evolution, it is necessary
to know what is cognitively unique about hominins (in evolutionary terms, the
derived characteristics). Knowledge of our nearest evolutionary relatives pro-
vides this information. But primatology supplies much more. Because hominins
are primates, they have been under many of the same evolutionary constraints
as other primates. One such constraint of particular relevance to cognitive evo-
lution is the tradeoff between brain size and gut length in primate evolution.
As an empirical generalization, primates with diets of low-quality food such as
leaves have longer guts and smaller brains than primates who focus on foods
with denser nutrition. This gut length–brain size equation played out in hom-
inin evolution as well (Aiello & Key, 2002; Aiello & Wheeler, 1995) but, with-
out extensive knowledge of nonhuman primates, paleoanthropologists would
not have known to look for it. The importance of social life in the evolution of
cognition was first noted by primatologists (Jolly, 1972). Byrne and Whiten’s
1988 Machiavellian Intelligence (Byrne & Whiten, 1988) identified life in com-
plex, often multimale social groups as the greatest challenge to an individual
primate’s problem-solving ability. This focus on sociality has motivated inves-
tigation into such important cognitive abilities as deception, theory of mind
(Dunbar, 1993), social learning (Byrne & Russon, 1998), and cheater detection
(Cosmides, 1989). All are now important considerations for hominin cognitive
evolution.
Use of primate data and models is not without challenges. The two primary
methodological threads of primatology—experimental and ethological—draw
on different intellectual traditions and often reach conclusions that are hard to
rectify. Primates in natural situations are often observed solving problems that
the same species fails to solve under controlled laboratory protocol (tests of the-
ory of mind are a good example; Tomasello & Herrmann, 2010). Nevertheless,
knowledge of primate cognition will continue to be a primary source of con-
cepts and models applicable to hominin cognitive evolution. Indeed, one of
5
the current leading hypotheses for hominin brain evolution, the social brain
hypothesis, was grounded initially in the comparative primate evidence (Dunbar,
Gamble, & Gowlett, 2014). However, even though it is essential to understand
hominins’ primate heritage, this knowledge base cannot on its own inform us
about the critical issue—how hominins evolved to be different.
A Brief (and Idiosyncratic) History of Evolutionary

Cognitive Archaeology
Paleontology, the comparative method, and reverse engineering are meth-
ods that apply to any evolutionary question, and they will continue to provide
important insights into hominin cognitive evolution. But the study of hom-
inin evolution has a fourth methodological avenue that is almost unique to the
taxon—an archaeological record of actual activities performed by hominins in
the evolutionary past. Archaeological remains are physical traces of past activi-
ties that have survived into the present. Such behavioral traces should be a trea-
sure trove of data attesting to the cognition of long-vanished individuals. Yet for
reasons peculiar to the history of Anglophone archaeology, this obvious avenue
of inquiry has been almost entirely neglected by archaeologists themselves.
The modern era of evolutionary cognitive archaeology began, ironically, not
with the work of an archaeologist but with a thoughtful review written by the
dean of American paleoneurologists, Ralph Holloway. In a 1969 article in Current
Anthropology, he broadened his approach to address the significance of stone
tools associated with early hominin fossils. At the time, linguistic and structural
models of culture dominated American anthropology, and, not surprisingly,
Holloway applied this perspective to the early stone tools, arguing that the pat-
terned action required to make these tools was akin to the regularities of syn-
tactical communication and that therefore structurally patterned culture must
have been a leading element in the evolution of the early hominin brain and
cognition. This was a landmark paper for human paleontology and for the thread
of research that became ECA. In retrospect, two components of Holloway’s argu-
ment stand out: (1) the explicit use of archaeological remains as evidence of
cognition and (2) the use of an established theory, in this case, a linguistic/struc-
tural model of culture. Unfortunately, although Holloway’s conclusion was well-
received, his method had little influence on archaeological practice, which was
then entering the chaotic days of the “New archaeology,” out of which a decid-
edly materialist/ecological perspective came to dominate Palaeolithic research.
There were a number of reasons for the ascendancy of materialist/ecologi-
cal thinking in the Palaeolithic research of the 1970s. First, the materialist
approach provided a refreshing alternative to the sterile descriptions of stone
tool typologies that had dominated Palaeolithic archaeology for more than a
6
century. Instead of industries and variants, archaeologists now wrote about

ecology, adaptation, and natural selection. Not only did such accounts dovetail
better with the growing wealth of fossil hominins, they also painted a picture
that was much easier for nonspecialists to understand. Here was a story of evo-
lutionary success and the triumph of our ancestors. Public attention and fund-
ing naturally followed. Second, materialist theory is almost ideally suited to
Palaeolithic remains. The “means of production” is the leading element of most
materialist theories and is also the domain of human activity that leaves the
most archaeological remains. If other components of hominin behavior and cul-
ture were direct or indirect consequences of technical and subsistence activities,
then archaeologists need only provide more thorough accounts of prehistoric
productive systems in order to reveal everything of importance about prehis-
toric lifeways. The challenge became technical—how to extract more and more
detailed accounts of what hominins ate, how they acquired it, and how they
made and used tools. Other questions almost disappeared from Palaeolithic
enquiry. Finally, one of the more forceful characters in the history of American
archaeology, Lewis Binford, was an active and vociferous advocate of the mate-
rialist approach. He used his famously acerbic critical faculties both to drive the
discipline in his favored direction and to disparage the few alternative voices.
At the time, Palaeolithic specialists were few enough that one individual could,
in fact, wield tremendous influence. The result was a marked improvement in
the rigor of materialist arguments and a hostile environment for every other
approach.
Between 1969 and 1979, there was only one significant foray into the cog-
nitive domain by an established Palaeolithic specialist. This was Glynn Isaac’s
article in a special issue of the Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences devoted
to language evolution (Isaac, 1976). In the early 1970s, Isaac had been largely
responsible for transforming the archaeology of early human evolution from a
focus on typology to a focus on ecology and adaptation (Sept & Pilbeam, 2011).
But he was not indifferent to provocative time-space patterns, and, in the 1976
paper, he introduced two descriptive concepts that he felt might inform scholars
about language. The first, “differentiation,” was not just variety of form, which
would always occur naturally, but instead was intentional imposition of differ-
ent forms by the stone knapper. It is here that Isaac ventured into the cognitive.
Differentiation was “The degree to which there were distinct target forms in the
minds of the craftsmen” (pp. 279–280). His second new usage was “modality,”
which was a descriptive term for differentiation based on the metaphor of a
topographic surface. Isaac then suggested that the increase in differentiation
and topographic complexity demonstrated by early lithic industries reflected
an increase in the complexity of rules and, by extension, the linguistic rules of
syntax. Two features of this analysis bear mention in the context of the history
of ECA. First was his use of “target forms.” This was the idea that tools existed
7
as mental images in the minds of knappers; it also appeared in the literature

of the time as “mental template” (and indeed can be found in writing to this
day). Although certainly cognitive in intent, this concept was not taken from
the psychology of the day. It was, in fact, introduced to archaeology by James
Deetz (1967) and was based on intuition rather than psychological research. The
second point concerns language. In the late 1960s and 1970s, structuralism was
the predominant theory in anthropology, and language was considered to be the
model structured system, to the degree that it came to be seen as the most defin-
ing human characteristic and the model for other structured behavior. Isaac’s
paper was provocative and could have provided a starting point for more active
investigation of cognition in the past. That it did not is primarily a testament
to the overwhelming power and success of materialist/ecological models in the
Palaeolithic research of the day. But two of its components continued on the
peripheries of research—the ill-defined mental template and the dominance of
language when referring to the mind.
In 1979, three articles appeared, quite independent of one another, which
planted the seeds of a more serious archaeological study of cognitive evolution.
The first was by John Gowlett and appeared in the journal Nature (Gowlett,
1979). Very much in the mode of Holloway and Isaac (cited by Gowlett), Gowlett
emphasized “design regularities” and increasing complexity over the course
of cultural evolution. He made a specific appeal for the use of archaeological
remains for “the study of intellectual developments” and invoked goal-seeking
behavior, cognitive mapping, and especially forward planning in his discussion
of early stone tools. These terms emerged from his examination of trends in the
archaeological record itself; there was no cited source from any of the branches
of cognitive science. The significance of this paper lay in its clear evocation of a
role for cognition in hominin evolution and also for its reliance on specific pat-
terns in the archaeological record.
The second 1979 paper was written by two biological anthropologists, Sue
Taylor Parker and Kathleen Gibson (1979), who approached cognitive evolu-
tion, and language in particular, by applying a formal model from developmental
psychology to the paleoanthropological record. In the 1960s and 1970s, Jean
Piaget was the world’s leading developmental psychologist. Over fifty years of
active research, he had proposed and elaborated a stage model for human child
development, arguing that all children passed through an invariant sequence
of increasingly more logical and powerful forms of reasoning. Using a long-
neglected stance in evolutionary studies, that of ontogeny informing phylogeny,
Parker and Gibson applied Piaget’s scheme to nonhuman primate cognition and
to the early archaeological record. They argued that early hominins, Homo habilis
in particular, fell slightly further up Piaget’s sequence of stages and substages
than apes such as chimpanzees. This was a remarkable conclusion. For the first
time, paleoanthropologists actually applied an independent scale of cognition
8
and used it to contrast apes and early hominins. Parker and Gibson’s archaeology
leaned heavily on Isaac’s reconstruction of home bases for Homo habilis, rather
than specific archaeological patterns. As it turned out, Isaac’s reconstructions
were shown to be overly optimistic (initially by Binford), which weakened Parker
and Gibson’s specific comparison, but they clearly demonstrated the potential of
using a formal cognitive model.
At the same time that Parker and Gibson were developing their model, and
again independently, Piaget became the basis for another archaeological study,
that of Thomas Wynn (Wynn, 1979, 1981, 1985, 1989). Wynn’s method differed
from that of Parker and Gibson. He used Piaget’s model, especially the work
in spatial cognition (Piaget & Inhelder, 1967), to compile a list of attributes
that he could apply to artifacts and used the results to formulate a phyloge-
netic sequence and timing for the evolution of spatial cognition. Because Piaget
advocated for general intelligence, Wynn could argue (probably wrongly) that
the evolution of spatial cognition revealed the sequence for general intelligence,
placing modern intelligence as early as 300,000 years ago.
The appearance of Parker and Gibson (1979) and Wynn (1979) marked the
first explicit application of a psychological model to the Palaeolithic record and
exemplified the potential of the approach to enhance understanding of cogni-
tive evolution and human evolution in general. Use of a developmental model
enabled them to perform three kinds of analysis that other approaches to cog-
nitive evolution could not. The first was assessment. Piaget’s theory is a stage
model with well-defined stages and substages, and both Parker and Gibson and
Wynn reached very specific conclusions about where on this scale Oldowan and
later Acheulean hominins, respectively, fell. This, in turn, enabled comparison.
One of the basic tenets of Piagetian theory is that the stage model is true gen-
erally, not just for child development but for all developmental sequences. In
practice this meant that Parker and Gibson and Wynn could compare their tar-
get groups to other primates and other hominins. Finally, because Piagetian
theory argued for stages of general intelligence, it enabled Parker and Gibson
and Wynn to extrapolate to behaviors not directly visible in the archaeological
or fossil records. Parker and Gibson were able to make suggestions about the
linguistic competence of Oldowan hominins, while Wynn focused more on social
extrapolations. The resulting conclusions of both papers ran counter to features
of the standard story of early human evolution, which at the time leaned on
the “Man the Hunter” model of human evolution derived from knowledge of
modern hunters and gatherers (Lee & DeVore, 1968). Parker and Gibson’s and
Wynn’s Oldowan hominins appeared much more apelike than the proto-modern
human hunters and gatherers of many reconstructions.
The explicit nature of the Piagetian model made Parker and Gibson and Wynn
susceptible to informed criticism on several levels. Critics could assess the the-
ory itself, the way that Parker and Gibson and Wynn articulated with the theory,
9
and the reliability of the data they used. As it turned out, weaknesses in the
theoretical model itself were arguably the most important causes of the ultimate
demise of the approach in human evolutionary studies. Ironically, by the late
1970s, Piagetian theory had begun to lose its hold on developmental psychol-
ogy. The primary difficulty was the failure of its strict stage model. Although the
general sequence was sound, children did not pass through the stages in lock
step. A child often tested at one stage in one domain and at a different stage
in another domain. Indeed, the whole notion of general intelligence was found
wanting. Also, Piagetian theory was very much an early-twentieth-century
theory. It took no account of the brain and little account of the sophisticated
quantitative methods of contemporary experimental psychology. In the 1970s
and 1980s, neuroscience exploded in popularity, and interest in how brains pro-
duced cognition became a central concern.
Parker and Gibson and Wynn continued to apply Piagetian theory through
the 1980s. As a method for primatology, Parker and Gibson’s approach yielded
important insights, and several other scholars adopted it (Parker & Gibson,
1990; Russon & Begun, 2004). Wynn eventually abandoned the approach
entirely, primarily because the archaeological record itself, like the record of
human children, failed to conform to predictions of the theory. In Piaget’s model
of the development of spatial cognition, fully Euclidean spatial thinking devel-
ops after a stage during which projective concepts dominate spatial organiza-
tion. In the archaeological record, projective and Euclidean concepts appeared
at the same time. Despite the ultimate failure of the Piagetian approach, three
points bear emphasis. First, the analyses were explicit and open to refutation, a
quality quite missing from more common-sense musings. Second, some of the
specific conclusions about cognitive evolution have survived the demise of the
approach. The assessment of the Oldowan as essentially an ape technology has
received increasing confirmation over the subsequent three decades (Byrne,
2004; Davidson & McGrew, 2005; Wynn, Hernandez-Aguilar, Marchant, &
McGrew, 2011). Third, even more than the articles by Holloway and Isaac, the
Piagetian approach of Parker and Gibson and Wynn demonstrated how much
more could be done with the archaeological record if one applied appropriate
theoretical models.
In the 1980s, most archaeological theory swung away from the material-
ist orthodoxy introduced by processual archaeology. In reaction to the pro-
saic, often dreary, accounts of prehistoric productive and economic systems,
many archaeologists turned their attention to symbolism and social behavior.
Some, inspired by the writings of postmodernists in literary theory and sociol-
ogy, abandoned the pretense of a scientific archaeology altogether in favor of
more self-conscious interpretations of the past (Hodder, 1991). Others, such
as Colin Renfrew at Cambridge University, advocated for an updated form of
processualism that retained the methodological rigor but replaced narrow
10
materialist perspectives with a broader orientation that granted organizing

power to minds and cognition, with a special attention to symbolic thinking.
Indeed, Renfrew was arguably the first to use the term “cognitive archaeol-
ogy” (Abramiuk, 2012). Renfrew’s approach did not directly engage cognitive
models such as Piaget’s. Instead it drew from semiotics and sign theory, the
works of Charles Sanders Peirce (Houser & Kloesel, 1992), Saussure (1966),
and Jakobson (Jakobson & Halle, 1971) in particular. Palaeolithic specialists,
it should be noted, largely ignored this counter-revolution in archaeological
theory and continued to churn out materialist/adaptationist accounts of the
evolutionary past (and, indeed, continue to do so to this day). But the few who
did develop and maintain an interest in cognition almost all embraced Renfrew’s
stance and focused on symbol systems and language or followed Clive Gamble’s
(Gamble, 1999) lead and turned to models of social action. Outside of Wynn’s
continued adherence to Piaget, there were no applications of models derived
from cognitive science or psychology. This changed in 1989 with the publication
of an article co-authored by an archaeologist and a psychologist.
Rather than simply apply a single cognitive model to Palaeolithic remains, as
Parker and Gibson and Wynn had done, archaeologist Iain Davidson and psy-
chologist William Noble used a psychological model as the primary grounding
for a theoretical model of their own (Davidson & Noble, 1989, 1993; Noble &
Davidson, 1996). In keeping with the emphasis on language that character-
ized most discussions of hominin cognitive evolution in the 1980s, Davidson
and Noble developed a sophisticated hypothesis for the evolution of language
based in the ecological psychology of James Gibson (J. Gibson, 1986; no rela-
tion to K. Gibson). Unlike Piaget and most cognitive psychologists of the time,
Gibsonian psychologists eschewed the notion that cognition consisted of men-
tal states or representations through and by which perceptual information was
processed. Instead, organisms directly apprehended energy fields emitted by
the environment and responded directly. This was not just an alternative model
of cognition, it was an alternative understanding of the ontological status of
the mind. For Davidson and Noble, only language itself, as a form of reflex-
ive communication, could perform the role of epistemic mediator. But in the
absence of such reflexive ability in prelinguistic hominins how could language
have emerged in the first place? Davidson and Noble argued that only through
depiction, preceded by mimicry, could language evolve and that, therefore, the
emergence of depiction in the archaeological record reliably marked the advent
of language. The Davidson-Noble hypothesis was a strong one, arguably the
strongest archaeologically linked argument for language origin yet proposed. It
was based in an explicit model of cognitive function that made equally explicit
predictions about the archaeological record. Its clarity also meant that it was
susceptible to critique on both the theoretical level and the evidential level (i.e.,
the very best kind of argument). It also had a significant impact on the standard
11
narrative of hominin evolution, at the time based largely on paleoneurology, in

which language was seen to have evolved early as one of the defining character-
istics of the hominin line. Davidson and Noble placed the evolution of language
very late indeed, as the advent of depiction occurred well after 100,000 years
ago. They forced a generation of scholars to think much more carefully about
the implications of archaeological evidence for language and mind. They were
also notable in being the first serious collaboration between a psychologist and
a Palaeolithic archeologist, attesting to the kinds of insights possible from truly
interdisciplinary scholarship.
Davidson and Noble’s invocation of a nonrepresentational model foreshad-
owed developments that arose a decade later, but, in the main, the cognitive/
representational perspective continued to predominate in cognitive evolu-
tionary studies. Adhering to a cognitivist position, neuropsychologist Merlin
Donald (1991) tackled the entire sweep of hominin cognitive evolution in his
Origins of the Modern Mind. His argument fit well with the academic zeitgeist of
the time. The brain sciences were undergoing dramatic growth and popularity,
and Donald’s background in neuropsychology enabled him to develop a plau-
sible model that was very influential in cognitive archaeology, especially to those
who gave language precedence. However, unlike Parker and Gibson, Wynn,
and Davidson and Noble, he did not use his model to attempt close analysis
of archaeological data, relying instead on generalizations about the Palaeolithic
gleaned mostly from secondary sources.
The 1990s saw a dramatic rise in interest in cognitive evolution. Impetus
came from developments in neuroscience, especially neuroimaging, but also
from evolutionary psychology (Barkow, Cosmides, & Tooby, 1992; Buss, 2003;
Buss & Barnes, 1986; Tooby & DeVore, 1987) and primatology (K. Gibson, 1990,
1993). Among these was one of the first attempts at a truly interdisciplinary
approach to the topic, Tools, Language, and Cognition in Human Evolution (K.
Gibson & Ingold, 1993), whose papers grew out of a Wenner-Gren International
Symposium organized by Kathleen Gibson and Tim Ingold. With only a few
exceptions, archaeologists themselves continued to remain largely on the side-
lines, providing up-to-date descriptions, but avoiding direct immersion in the
interpretive debates. Three events helped change this. The first was the estab-
lishment of the McDonald Institute at Cambridge University, part of whose
research mission was the advancement of cognitive archaeology. The institute
established Cambridge Archaeological Journal, which provided a venue for pub-
lication of cognitive archaeology. This was followed in 1996 by the publication
of two books, Mithen’s The Prehistory of Mind (1996) and Noble and Davidson’s
Human Evolution, Language, and Mind: A Psychological and Archaeological Inquiry
(1996). These were books that had the same evolutionary scope as Donald’s 1991
volume but which were written by archaeologists. Between them, they demon-
strated the active role that archaeologists could play in the study of cognitive
12
evolution. Noble and Davidson expanded on the perspective introduced in

their 1989 paper, and Mithen based his analysis on models from cognitive and
developmental psychology, in particular the work of Fodor (1983), Gardner
(1983), and Karmiloff-Smith (1992). Mithen argued that the overriding theme
of human cognitive evolution was the relationship between narrow modules of
cognition that evolved to solve specific evolutionary problems and a more gen-
eral problem-solving ability that he labeled cognitive fluidity. The final “big bang
of human culture” that occurred some 50,000 years ago was powered by the
final development of cognitive fluidity that enabled cross-modal and metaphori-
cal thinking and creativity. As a syncretic model, Mithen’s was arguably not as
robust as that of Noble and Davidson, but it adhered to the standard Cartesian
separation of mind and body and was therefore more accessible to general read-
ers. Mithen was (and is) a gifted writer, and he made effective use of several
rhetorical metaphors to deliver arcane ideas in understandable form. He also
pitched the book at a general educated audience, rather than archaeologists or
cognitive scientists, which resulted in scholars of all stripes reading the book
and seeing the potential of an evolutionary cognitive archaeology.
By the end of the 1990s, evolutionary cognitive archaeology had established
itself as an important method in the study of hominin cognitive evolution. The
epistemological case had been made. From that point, evolutionary cognitive
archaeologists began to explore a variety of theoretical perspectives on the
Palaeolithic record, resulting in an eclectic discipline than cannot be summa-
rized in a few paragraphs. Indeed, showcasing some of these approaches is the
primary goal of this volume. But what makes for an effective argument in evolu-
tionary cognitive archaeology?
Appropriate Models
An effective evolutionary cognitive archaeology must be interdisciplinary. In
isolation, archaeology is simply a set of methods for the study of the past, and
although these methods vary according to peculiarities of local academic prac-
tice, they have no inherent shared understanding of the people who produced
the record in the first place. For this, archaeology has always drawn on ideas and
theories developed in disciplines that study living people. A good archaeological
interpretation is explicit about the source of its interpretive ideas and explicit
about how the archaeological evidence articulates with these ideas. Implicit
theories are rarely a good basis of analysis, and yet the history of archaeology
is replete with examples of interpretations drawn from vague, “common-sense”
understandings of the human condition, including at times racist, sexist, and
culturally elitist “truths.” Unfortunately, this vagueness extends to archaeo-
logical treatments of the mind, where it is still common to find reference to
13
ill-defined, pseudo-cognitive terms such as “abstract” or “complex.” It is possible

to do better, but improvement in cognitive archaeology requires that archae-
ologists consult the disciplines that study the mind. Because archaeology is not
a methodology commonly encountered in cognitive science or psychology pro-
grams, one cannot expect to go to these literatures and find theories designed to
fit archaeology’s methodological peculiarities. The onus falls on the archaeolo-
gist to access and understand the theories, models, and concepts of these allied
but nevertheless remote disciplines. How, then, does the archaeologist proceed?
There are two ways for an archaeologist to approach the cognitive science
literature—via theoretical purity or pragmatism. The first identifies a model of
cognitive function that is convincing and hammers out archaeological sequelae
that allow application of the theory to the past; one recasts the evidence so
that it articulates with the theory (Wynn’s application of Piagetian theory is
an example). Alternatively, one can take a more pragmatic approach and select
a model or models that can be modified to accommodate a set of activities one
finds in the archaeological record and adjust the model accordingly (Davidson
and Noble’s discussion of depiction is an excellent example). Here, the overarch-
ing power of the theory is not as important as one’s ability to operationalize it
for the evolutionary past. Either approach can, and has, provided insights into
the evolution of mind that are theoretically grounded and therefore a powerful
basis for explanation.
It is important to note at this point that a comprehensive theory of cognitive
function does not yet exist; different theories have different strengths, and not
all are appropriate for all questions. Since the 1990s, ECA practitioners have
taken a variety of different, cognitively grounded approaches to interpreting
archaeological remains. They can be grouped on the basis of underlying cogni-
tive models.
Neuroarchaeology: Neuroarchaeology strives to describe the patterns
of neural activation that generated archaeologically discovered activities.
Methodologically, it is primarily experimental. Typically, an experimental par-
ticipant will perform an activity reconstructed on the basis of archaeological
remains, after or during which a neuroimaging device of some sort records the
patterns of neuroactivation. If the experiment tests similar activities from dif-
ferent points in human evolution (e.g., stone knapping), it is possible to identify
evolutionary changes in the patterns of activation. Such studies are subject to
the caveats attaching to all neuroimaging studies, such as coarseness of resolu-
tion, and have the added drawback of using modern brains as proxies for early
hominin brains. Nevertheless, neuroarchaeology has proved a powerful tool for
investigating the evolution of cognition and, more exciting, has begun to provide
results that are of interest to the brain sciences in general (Hecht et al., 2014;
Putt, Woods, & Franciscus, 2014; Stout, Passingham, Frith, Apel, & Chaminade,
2011; Stout, Toth, Schick, Stout, & Hutchins, 2000; Uomini, 2006).
14
Cognitive Neuroscience: The most commonly encountered formal models in

ECA are taken from cognitive neuroscience (Gazzaniga, 2009), which is a broad
approach based in both the experimental results of cognitive psychology and
the use of neuroscience techniques, including neuropsychology (study of indi-
viduals with brain damage/pathology) and neuroimaging. Cognitive neurosci-
ence has tackled an immense array of cognitive abilities, and many of its models
are adaptable to archaeological evidence. Among the cognitive neuroscience
domains employed by ECAs are vision (Hodgson, 2000, 2009, 2011), neuroaes-
thetics (Martín-Loeches, Chapter 6, this volume), working memory (Coolidge &
Wynn, 2001, 2005; Wynn & Coolidge, 2010), spatial cognition (Wynn, 1989,
2000, 2002, 2010), numeracy (Overmann, 2013; Overmann, Wynn, & Coolidge,
2011), and constructive memory (Ambrose, 2010).
Developmental Psychology: Even though developmental models played an
important role in the early stages of ECA (Mithen, 1996; Parker & Gibson, 1979;
Wynn, 1979, 1981, 1985, 1989), enthusiasm waned in the 1990s. The major
exception has been Moore’s (Moore & Brumm, 2006) use of Greenfield’s (1991)
model of early logical development to help sort out the basic cognitive chal-
lenges of stone knapping.
Information Processing: One of the long-standing stalwarts of cognitive sci-
ence has been the study of information systems. Although often associated with
the study of artificial intelligence and robotics, it also has an important branch
that studies human psychology from this perspective. Most such approaches
have focused on static models that are of limited use to evolutionary science, but
Philip Barnard (Barnard, 2010; Barnard, Duke, Byrne, & Davidson, 2007) has
developed a dynamic model of increasingly more powerful cognitive states that
can be applied to both ontogeny and phylogeny.
Social Cognition: Concepts derived from studies of social cognition have
proved fruitful in ECA. Some of these concepts, such as cheater detection, have
been borrowed from evolutionary psychology, where they are especially well-
developed. Others have been drawn from cognitive ethology. Theory of mind has
proved to be especially influential. Dunbar (Dunbar, 1993, 2009; Dunbar et al.,
2014) has famously used it to flesh out his theory of brain size and social group
size. More recently, Henshilwood and Dubreuil (2009, 2011) have made more
effective use of it in defense of their symbolic interpretation of the Blombos
beads. For earlier developments, archaeologists James Cole (2014, Chapter 8,
this volume) and Ceri Shipton (2010) have worked through some of the implica-
tions of Dunbar’s social brain hypothesis making explicit use of the archaeologi-
cal record, including the enigmatic Acheulean handaxe.
Symbolic Approaches: Although most semiotic theories are not cognitive per
se, they have been and continue to be important considerations in ECA. What
is perhaps surprising about many treatments of symbolism in the Palaeolithic is
the rarity with which adherents consult and employ formal models of symbolic
15
systems. Even such stalwarts as Peirce and Saussure receive few references. Thus,
despite its popularity, it tends not to be well-founded on a theoretical level.
There continues to be a great deal of loose reference to symbolic culture, espe-
cially in the contentious literature surrounding Neandertal cognition (Villa &
Roebroeks, 2014), but, absent solid grounding in either semiotic or cognitive
theory, little progress can be made. Noted exceptions to this theoretical laxity
have been the work of Davidson and Noble, discussed earlier, and more recently
the work of Henshilwood (Henshilwood & Dubreuil, 2011), Rossano (2009), and
Malafouris (2013). Beginning in the 1990s, April Nowell (Nowell, 2001, 2013;
Nowell & Davidson, 2010; Nowell & d’Errico, 2007) also brought a sophisticated
understanding of symbolic systems to some of the more controversial evidence
of the Palaeolithic record.
Non-Cartesian Approaches: Cognitive neurosciences, and most allied fields,
are committed to an essentially Cartesian view of the mind in which cognition
consists of internal representations generated by neural substrates. From this
stance, cognitive evolution consisted of increasingly powerful or adaptive inter-
nal representations. This view of an internal mind as separate from an exter-
nal body has come under serious challenge, first from the ecological psychology
of James Gibson and more recently from the perspective known as situated or
embodied cognition (Clark, 1997; J. Gibson, 1986). Gibson (1986) considered
cognitive psychologists’ reliance on internal representations to be misplaced.
Instead, he argued that neural circuitry directly apprehends energy fields in the
environment and responds directly, without building an internal proxy for the
outside world. An archaeological application of ecological psychology should, in
theory at least, have distinct advantages over representational models because
it would eschew the use of an “epistemic mediator” (Wagman, 2002) and focus
on the direct context of cognition and available neural resources. However,
despite the logical advantage, the approach has not been popular in ECA. The
best examples are those of Noble and Davidson (1996) on depiction and Bril and
colleagues (2012) on early stone knapping.
A related approach arose in the 1990s, initially as a reaction to artificial
intelligence’s failure to build robots that could perform such seemingly simple
tasks as catching a thrown ball. In a central processing system, such as the
kind envisioned by most cognitive approaches, the solution would be achieved
by computing the trajectory and apparent velocity of the ball using represen-
tations of various kinds and thereby determining the location at which the
ball would fall. It turned out that peripherally based systems without a cen-
tral processor performed more efficiently and reliably (move until the ball is
perceived to stop and stand there). This shift in focus came to be known as
embodied, extended, or situated cognition. Extreme advocates of situated
cognition argue that the cognitive sciences must do away with representation-
alism entirely, and, in this sense, they agree with the ecological psychologists.
16
Situated cognition focuses on the roles that peripheral resources such as bod-
ies and tools play in cognition. If tools are not just passive objects controlled
by internal representations, but active agents in cognition, then archaeology
has an even greater potential to inform cognitive science about the evolu-
tion of cognitive systems. To date, the most forceful and articulate case for
situated cognition in archaeology has been the work of Lambros Malafouris
(Malafouris, 2008, 2010, 2013).
A Mosaic of Cognitive Evolution

The most effective ECA studies have focused on fairly circumscribed cogni-
tive abilities—theory of mind, spatial cognition, working memory, and so on.
Together, these studies present a mosaic pattern, and, indeed, this is arguably
the most significant general conclusion to be drawn from ECA. The human mind
did not evolve gradually as a unified problem-solving computer that increased in
capacity. Instead, different cognitive abilities had different evolutionary trajec-
tories. Spatial cognition, for example, acquired its modern features well before
half a million years ago (Hodgson, 2011; Wynn, 2002), but theory of mind does
not appear to have acquired modern levels of intentionality until much more
recently, sometime after 200,000 years ago (Dunbar et al., 2014; Henshilwood &
Dubreuil, 2011). A mosaic pattern does not require adherence to a massively
modularized model of the human mind, but it does suggest that selective
environments changed over the course of human evolution, with cognition
responding as able. Of course, material culture was a component of these selec-
tive environments, and ECA has begun to document the active role of material
culture in cognitive evolution (number concept is a good example; Malafouris,
2013; Overmann et al., 2011).
The chapters that follow illustrate the application of several explicit cognitive
models in Palaeolithic research. They are not an exhaustive sampling, but they
do present a variety of different models. The editors have made no attempt to
enforce a standardized perspective or epistemological stance. No unified picture
will emerge; ECA is a very long way from producing a general account of hominin
cognitive evolution.
References
Abramiuk, M. (2012). The foundations of cognitive archaeology. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Aiello, L., & Key, C. (2002). Energetic consequences of being a Homo erectus female. American
Journal of Human Biology, 14, 551–565.
Aiello, L. C., & Wheeler, P. (1995). The expensive tissue hypothesis: the brain and digestive system
in humans and primate evolution. Current Anthropology, 36, 199–221.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
woman could have worn the helmet and shot the arrow, could have
led troops to attack, ruled with indomitable justice barbarian hordes
and lain under a shield noseless in a church, or made a green grass
mound on some primeval hillside, that woman was Millicent Bruton.
Debarred by her sex and some truancy, too, of the logical faculty
(she found it impossible to write a letter to the Times), she had the
thought of Empire always at hand, and had acquired from her
association with that armoured goddess her ramrod bearing, her
robustness of demeanour, so that one could not figure her even in
death parted from the earth or roaming territories over which, in
some spiritual shape, the Union Jack had ceased to fly. To be not
English even among the dead—no, no! Impossible!
But was it Lady Bruton (whom she used to know)? Was it Peter
Walsh grown grey? Lady Rosseter asked herself (who had been
Sally Seton). It was old Miss Parry certainly—the old aunt who used
to be so cross when she stayed at Bourton. Never should she forget
running along the passage naked, and being sent for by Miss Parry!
And Clarissa! oh Clarissa! Sally caught her by the arm.
Clarissa stopped beside them.
“But I can’t stay,” she said. “I shall come later. Wait,” she said,
looking at Peter and Sally. They must wait, she meant, until all these
people had gone.
“I shall come back,” she said, looking at her old friends, Sally and
Peter, who were shaking hands, and Sally, remembering the past no
doubt, was laughing.
But her voice was wrung of its old ravishing richness; her eyes not
aglow as they used to be, when she smoked cigars, when she ran
down the passage to fetch her sponge bag, without a stitch of
clothing on her, and Ellen Atkins asked, What if the gentlemen had
met her? But everybody forgave her. She stole a chicken from the
larder because she was hungry in the night; she smoked cigars in
her bedroom; she left a priceless book in the punt. But everybody
adored her (except perhaps Papa). It was her warmth; her vitality—
she would paint, she would write. Old women in the village never to
this day forgot to ask after “your friend in the red cloak who seemed
so bright.” She accused Hugh Whitbread, of all people (and there he
was, her old friend Hugh, talking to the Portuguese Ambassador), of
kissing her in the smoking-room to punish her for saying that women
should have votes. Vulgar men did, she said. And Clarissa
remembered having to persuade her not to denounce him at family
prayers—which she was capable of doing with her daring, her
recklessness, her melodramatic love of being the centre of
everything and creating scenes, and it was bound, Clarissa used to
think, to end in some awful tragedy; her death; her martyrdom;
instead of which she had married, quite unexpectedly, a bald man
with a large buttonhole who owned, it was said, cotton mills at
Manchester. And she had five boys!
She and Peter had settled down together. They were talking: it
seemed so familiar—that they should be talking. They would discuss
the past. With the two of them (more even than with Richard) she
shared her past; the garden; the trees; old Joseph Breitkopf singing
Brahms without any voice; the drawing-room wall-paper; the smell of
the mats. A part of this Sally must always be; Peter must always be.
But she must leave them. There were the Bradshaws, whom she
disliked. She must go up to Lady Bradshaw (in grey and silver,
balancing like a sea-lion at the edge of its tank, barking for
invitations, Duchesses, the typical successful man’s wife), she must
go up to Lady Bradshaw and say....
But Lady Bradshaw anticipated her.
“We are shockingly late, dear Mrs. Dalloway, we hardly dared to
come in,” she said.
And Sir William, who looked very distinguished, with his grey hair
and blue eyes, said yes; they had not been able to resist the
temptation. He was talking to Richard about that Bill probably, which
they wanted to get through the Commons. Why did the sight of him,
talking to Richard, curl her up? He looked what he was, a great
doctor. A man absolutely at the head of his profession, very
powerful, rather worn. For think what cases came before him—
people in the uttermost depths of misery; people on the verge of
insanity; husbands and wives. He had to decide questions of
appalling difficulty. Yet—what she felt was, one wouldn’t like Sir
William to see one unhappy. No; not that man.
“How is your son at Eton?” she asked Lady Bradshaw.
He had just missed his eleven, said Lady Bradshaw, because of the
mumps. His father minded even more than he did, she thought
“being,” she said, “nothing but a great boy himself.”
Clarissa looked at Sir William, talking to Richard. He did not look like
a boy—not in the least like a boy. She had once gone with some one
to ask his advice. He had been perfectly right; extremely sensible.
But Heavens—what a relief to get out to the street again! There was
some poor wretch sobbing, she remembered, in the waiting-room.
But she did not know what it was—about Sir William; what exactly
she disliked. Only Richard agreed with her, “didn’t like his taste,
didn’t like his smell.” But he was extraordinarily able. They were
talking about this Bill. Some case, Sir William was mentioning,
lowering his voice. It had its bearing upon what he was saying about
the deferred effects of shell shock. There must be some provision in
the Bill.
Sinking her voice, drawing Mrs. Dalloway into the shelter of a
common femininity, a common pride in the illustrious qualities of
husbands and their sad tendency to overwork, Lady Bradshaw (poor
goose—one didn’t dislike her) murmured how, “just as we were
starting, my husband was called up on the telephone, a very sad
case. A young man (that is what Sir William is telling Mr. Dalloway)
had killed himself. He had been in the army.” Oh! thought Clarissa, in
the middle of my party, here’s death, she thought.
She went on, into the little room where the Prime Minister had gone
with Lady Bruton. Perhaps there was somebody there. But there was
nobody. The chairs still kept the impress of the Prime Minister and
Lady Bruton, she turned deferentially, he sitting four-square,
authoritatively. They had been talking about India. There was
nobody. The party’s splendour fell to the floor, so strange it was to
come in alone in her finery.
What business had the Bradshaws to talk of death at her party? A
young man had killed himself. And they talked of it at her party—the
Bradshaws talked of death. He had killed himself—but how? Always
her body went through it first, when she was told, suddenly, of an
accident; her dress flamed, her body burnt. He had thrown himself
from a window. Up had flashed the ground; through him, blundering,
bruising, went the rusty spikes. There he lay with a thud, thud, thud
in his brain, and then a suffocation of blackness. So she saw it. But
why had he done it? And the Bradshaws talked of it at her party!
She had once thrown a shilling into the Serpentine, never anything
more. But he had flung it away. They went on living (she would have
to go back; the rooms were still crowded; people kept on coming).
They (all day she had been thinking of Bourton, of Peter, of Sally),
they would grow old. A thing there was that mattered; a thing,
wreathed about with chatter, defaced, obscured in her own life, let
drop every day in corruption, lies, chatter. This he had preserved.
Death was defiance. Death was an attempt to communicate; people
feeling the impossibility of reaching the centre which, mystically,
evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone.
There was an embrace in death.
But this young man who had killed himself—had he plunged holding
his treasure? “If it were now to die, ’twere now to be most happy,”
she had said to herself once, coming down in white.
Or there were the poets and thinkers. Suppose he had had that
passion, and had gone to Sir William Bradshaw, a great doctor yet to
her obscurely evil, without sex or lust, extremely polite to women, but
capable of some indescribable outrage—forcing your soul, that was
it—if this young man had gone to him, and Sir William had
impressed him, like that, with his power, might he not then have said
(indeed she felt it now), Life is made intolerable; they make life
intolerable, men like that?
Then (she had felt it only this morning) there was the terror; the
overwhelming incapacity, one’s parents giving it into one’s hands,
this life, to be lived to the end, to be walked with serenely; there was
in the depths of her heart an awful fear. Even now, quite often if
Richard had not been there reading the Times, so that she could
crouch like a bird and gradually revive, send roaring up that
immeasurable delight, rubbing stick to stick, one thing with another,
she must have perished. But that young man had killed himself.
Somehow it was her disaster—her disgrace. It was her punishment
to see sink and disappear here a man, there a woman, in this
profound darkness, and she forced to stand here in her evening
dress. She had schemed; she had pilfered. She was never wholly
admirable. She had wanted success. Lady Bexborough and the rest
of it. And once she had walked on the terrace at Bourton.
It was due to Richard; she had never been so happy. Nothing could
be slow enough; nothing last too long. No pleasure could equal, she
thought, straightening the chairs, pushing in one book on the shelf,
this having done with the triumphs of youth, lost herself in the
process of living, to find it, with a shock of delight, as the sun rose,
as the day sank. Many a time had she gone, at Bourton when they
were all talking, to look at the sky; or seen it between people’s
shoulders at dinner; seen it in London when she could not sleep.
She walked to the window.
It held, foolish as the idea was, something of her own in it, this
country sky, this sky above Westminster. She parted the curtains;
she looked. Oh, but how surprising!—in the room opposite the old
lady stared straight at her! She was going to bed. And the sky. It will
be a solemn sky, she had thought, it will be a dusky sky, turning
away its cheek in beauty. But there it was—ashen pale, raced over
quickly by tapering vast clouds. It was new to her. The wind must
have risen. She was going to bed, in the room opposite. It was
fascinating to watch her, moving about, that old lady, crossing the
room, coming to the window. Could she see her? It was fascinating,
with people still laughing and shouting in the drawing-room, to watch
that old woman, quite quietly, going to bed. She pulled the blind now.
The clock began striking. The young man had killed himself; but she
did not pity him; with the clock striking the hour, one, two, three, she
did not pity him, with all this going on. There! the old lady had put out
her light! the whole house was dark now with this going on, she
repeated, and the words came to her, Fear no more the heat of the
sun. She must go back to them. But what an extraordinary night! She
felt somehow very like him—the young man who had killed himself.
She felt glad that he had done it; thrown it away. The clock was
striking. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. He made her feel the
beauty; made her feel the fun. But she must go back. She must
assemble. She must find Sally and Peter. And she came in from the
little room.
“But where is Clarissa?” said Peter. He was sitting on the sofa with
Sally. (After all these years he really could not call her “Lady
Rosseter.”) “Where’s the woman gone to?” he asked. “Where’s
Clarissa?”
Sally supposed, and so did Peter for the matter of that, that there
were people of importance, politicians, whom neither of them knew
unless by sight in the picture papers, whom Clarissa had to be nice
to, had to talk to. She was with them. Yet there was Richard
Dalloway not in the Cabinet. He hadn’t been a success, Sally
supposed? For herself, she scarcely ever read the papers. She
sometimes saw his name mentioned. But then—well, she lived a
very solitary life, in the wilds, Clarissa would say, among great
merchants, great manufacturers, men, after all, who did things. She
had done things too!
“I have five sons!” she told him.
Lord, Lord, what a change had come over her! the softness of
motherhood; its egotism too. Last time they met, Peter remembered,
had been among the cauliflowers in the moonlight, the leaves “like
rough bronze” she had said, with her literary turn; and she had
picked a rose. She had marched him up and down that awful night,
after the scene by the fountain; he was to catch the midnight train.
Heavens, he had wept!
That was his old trick, opening a pocket-knife, thought Sally, always
opening and shutting a knife when he got excited. They had been
very, very intimate, she and Peter Walsh, when he was in love with
Clarissa, and there was that dreadful, ridiculous scene over Richard
Dalloway at lunch. She had called Richard “Wickham.” Why not call
Richard “Wickham”? Clarissa had flared up! and indeed they had
never seen each other since, she and Clarissa, not more than half a
dozen times perhaps in the last ten years. And Peter Walsh had
gone off to India, and she had heard vaguely that he had made an
unhappy marriage, and she didn’t know whether he had any
children, and she couldn’t ask him, for he had changed. He was
rather shrivelled-looking, but kinder, she felt, and she had a real
affection for him, for he was connected with her youth, and she still
had a little Emily Brontë he had given her, and he was to write,
surely? In those days he was to write.
“Have you written?” she asked him, spreading her hand, her firm and
shapely hand, on her knee in a way he recalled.
“Not a word!” said Peter Walsh, and she laughed.
She was still attractive, still a personage, Sally Seton. But who was
this Rosseter? He wore two camellias on his wedding day—that was
all Peter knew of him. “They have myriads of servants, miles of
conservatories,” Clarissa wrote; something like that. Sally owned it
with a shout of laughter.
“Yes, I have ten thousand a year”—whether before the tax was paid
or after, she couldn’t remember, for her husband, “whom you must
meet,” she said, “whom you would like,” she said, did all that for her.
And Sally used to be in rags and tatters. She had pawned her
grandmother’s ring which Marie Antoinette had given her great-
grandfather to come to Bourton.
Oh yes, Sally remembered; she had it still, a ruby ring which Marie
Antoinette had given her great-grandfather. She never had a penny
to her name in those days, and going to Bourton always meant some
frightful pinch. But going to Bourton had meant so much to her—had
kept her sane, she believed, so unhappy had she been at home. But
that was all a thing of the past—all over now, she said. And Mr. Parry
was dead; and Miss Parry was still alive. Never had he had such a
shock in his life! said Peter. He had been quite certain she was dead.
And the marriage had been, Sally supposed, a success? And that
very handsome, very self-possessed young woman was Elizabeth,
over there, by the curtains, in red.
(She was like a poplar, she was like a river, she was like a hyacinth,
Willie Titcomb was thinking. Oh how much nicer to be in the country
and do what she liked! She could hear her poor dog howling,
Elizabeth was certain.) She was not a bit like Clarissa, Peter Walsh
said.
“Oh, Clarissa!” said Sally.
What Sally felt was simply this. She had owed Clarissa an enormous
amount. They had been friends, not acquaintances, friends, and she
still saw Clarissa all in white going about the house with her hands
full of flowers—to this day tobacco plants made her think of Bourton.
But—did Peter understand?—she lacked something. Lacked what
was it? She had charm; she had extraordinary charm. But to be frank
(and she felt that Peter was an old friend, a real friend—did absence
matter? did distance matter? She had often wanted to write to him,
but torn it up, yet felt he understood, for people understand without
things being said, as one realises growing old, and old she was, had
been that afternoon to see her sons at Eton, where they had the
mumps), to be quite frank then, how could Clarissa have done it?—
married Richard Dalloway? a sportsman, a man who cared only for
dogs. Literally, when he came into the room he smelt of the stables.
And then all this? She waved her hand.
Hugh Whitbread it was, strolling past in his white waistcoat, dim, fat,
blind, past everything he looked, except self-esteem and comfort.
“He’s not going to recognise us,” said Sally, and really she hadn’t the
courage—so that was Hugh! the admirable Hugh!
“And what does he do?” she asked Peter.
He blacked the King’s boots or counted bottles at Windsor, Peter told
her. Peter kept his sharp tongue still! But Sally must be frank, Peter
said. That kiss now, Hugh’s.
On the lips, she assured him, in the smoking-room one evening. She
went straight to Clarissa in a rage. Hugh didn’t do such things!
Clarissa said, the admirable Hugh! Hugh’s socks were without
exception the most beautiful she had ever seen—and now his
evening dress. Perfect! And had he children?
“Everybody in the room has six sons at Eton,” Peter told her, except
himself. He, thank God, had none. No sons, no daughters, no wife.
Well, he didn’t seem to mind, said Sally. He looked younger, she
thought, than any of them.
But it had been a silly thing to do, in many ways, Peter said, to marry
like that; “a perfect goose she was,” he said, but, he said, “we had a
splendid time of it,” but how could that be? Sally wondered; what did
he mean? and how odd it was to know him and yet not know a single
thing that had happened to him. And did he say it out of pride? Very
likely, for after all it must be galling for him (though he was an oddity,
a sort of sprite, not at all an ordinary man), it must be lonely at his
age to have no home, nowhere to go to. But he must stay with them
for weeks and weeks. Of course he would; he would love to stay with
them, and that was how it came out. All these years the Dalloways
had never been once. Time after time they had asked them. Clarissa
(for it was Clarissa of course) would not come. For, said Sally,
Clarissa was at heart a snob—one had to admit it, a snob. And it
was that that was between them, she was convinced. Clarissa
thought she had married beneath her, her husband being—she was
proud of it—a miner’s son. Every penny they had he had earned. As
a little boy (her voice trembled) he had carried great sacks.
(And so she would go on, Peter felt, hour after hour; the miner’s son;
people thought she had married beneath her; her five sons; and
what was the other thing—plants, hydrangeas, syringas, very, very
rare hibiscus lilies that never grow north of the Suez Canal, but she,
with one gardener in a suburb near Manchester, had beds of them,
positively beds! Now all that Clarissa had escaped, unmaternal as
she was.)
A snob was she? Yes, in many ways. Where was she, all this time? It
was getting late.
“Yet,” said Sally, “when I heard Clarissa was giving a party, I felt I
couldn’t not come—must see her again (and I’m staying in Victoria
Street, practically next door). So I just came without an invitation.
But,” she whispered, “tell me, do. Who is this?”
It was Mrs. Hilbery, looking for the door. For how late it was getting!
And, she murmured, as the night grew later, as people went, one
found old friends; quiet nooks and corners; and the loveliest views.
Did they know, she asked, that they were surrounded by an
enchanted garden? Lights and trees and wonderful gleaming lakes
and the sky. Just a few fairy lamps, Clarissa Dalloway had said, in
the back garden! But she was a magician! It was a park.... And she
didn’t know their names, but friends she knew they were, friends
without names, songs without words, always the best. But there
were so many doors, such unexpected places, she could not find her
way.
“Old Mrs. Hilbery,” said Peter; but who was that? that lady standing
by the curtain all the evening, without speaking? He knew her face;
connected her with Bourton. Surely she used to cut up underclothes
at the large table in the window? Davidson, was that her name?
“Oh, that is Ellie Henderson,” said Sally. Clarissa was really very
hard on her. She was a cousin, very poor. Clarissa was hard on
people.
She was rather, said Peter. Yet, said Sally, in her emotional way, with
a rush of that enthusiasm which Peter used to love her for, yet
dreaded a little now, so effusive she might become—how generous
to her friends Clarissa was! and what a rare quality one found it, and
how sometimes at night or on Christmas Day, when she counted up
her blessings, she put that friendship first. They were young; that
was it. Clarissa was pure-hearted; that was it. Peter would think her
sentimental. So she was. For she had come to feel that it was the
only thing worth saying—what one felt. Cleverness was silly. One
must say simply what one felt.
“But I do not know,” said Peter Walsh, “what I feel.”
Poor Peter, thought Sally. Why did not Clarissa come and talk to
them? That was what he was longing for. She knew it. All the time he
was thinking only of Clarissa, and was fidgeting with his knife.
He had not found life simple, Peter said. His relations with Clarissa
had not been simple. It had spoilt his life, he said. (They had been so
intimate—he and Sally Seton, it was absurd not to say it.) One could
not be in love twice, he said. And what could she say? Still, it is
better to have loved (but he would think her sentimental—he used to
be so sharp). He must come and stay with them in Manchester. That
is all very true, he said. All very true. He would love to come and stay
with them, directly he had done what he had to do in London.
And Clarissa had cared for him more than she had ever cared for
Richard. Sally was positive of that.
“No, no, no!” said Peter (Sally should not have said that—she went
too far). That good fellow—there he was at the end of the room,
holding forth, the same as ever, dear old Richard. Who was he
talking to? Sally asked, that very distinguished-looking man? Living
in the wilds as she did, she had an insatiable curiosity to know who
people were. But Peter did not know. He did not like his looks, he
said, probably a Cabinet Minister. Of them all, Richard seemed to
him the best, he said—the most disinterested.
“But what has he done?” Sally asked. Public work, she supposed.
And were they happy together? Sally asked (she herself was
extremely happy); for, she admitted, she knew nothing about them,
only jumped to conclusions, as one does, for what can one know
even of the people one lives with every day? she asked. Are we not
all prisoners? She had read a wonderful play about a man who
scratched on the wall of his cell, and she had felt that was true of life
—one scratched on the wall. Despairing of human relationships
(people were so difficult), she often went into her garden and got
from her flowers a peace which men and women never gave her. But
no; he did not like cabbages; he preferred human beings, Peter said.
Indeed, the young are beautiful, Sally said, watching Elizabeth cross
the room. How unlike Clarissa at her age! Could he make anything of
her? She would not open her lips. Not much, not yet, Peter admitted.
She was like a lily, Sally said, a lily by the side of a pool. But Peter
did not agree that we know nothing. We know everything, he said; at
least he did.
But these two, Sally whispered, these two coming now (and really
she must go, if Clarissa did not come soon), this distinguished-
looking man and his rather common-looking wife who had been
talking to Richard—what could one know about people like that?
“That they’re damnable humbugs,” said Peter, looking at them
casually. He made Sally laugh.
But Sir William Bradshaw stopped at the door to look at a picture. He
looked in the corner for the engraver’s name. His wife looked too. Sir
William Bradshaw was so interested in art.
When one was young, said Peter, one was too much excited to know
people. Now that one was old, fifty-two to be precise (Sally was fifty-
five, in body, she said, but her heart was like a girl’s of twenty); now
that one was mature then, said Peter, one could watch, one could
understand, and one did not lose the power of feeling, he said. No,
that is true, said Sally. She felt more deeply, more passionately,
every year. It increased, he said, alas, perhaps, but one should be
glad of it—it went on increasing in his experience. There was some
one in India. He would like to tell Sally about her. He would like Sally
to know her. She was married, he said. She had two small children.
They must all come to Manchester, said Sally—he must promise
before they left.
There’s Elizabeth, he said, she feels not half what we feel, not yet.
But, said Sally, watching Elizabeth go to her father, one can see they
are devoted to each other. She could feel it by the way Elizabeth
went to her father.
For her father had been looking at her, as he stood talking to the
Bradshaws, and he had thought to himself, Who is that lovely girl?
And suddenly he realised that it was his Elizabeth, and he had not
recognised her, she looked so lovely in her pink frock! Elizabeth had
felt him looking at her as she talked to Willie Titcomb. So she went to
him and they stood together, now that the party was almost over,
looking at the people going, and the rooms getting emptier and
emptier, with things scattered on the floor. Even Ellie Henderson was
going, nearly last of all, though no one had spoken to her, but she
had wanted to see everything, to tell Edith. And Richard and
Elizabeth were rather glad it was over, but Richard was proud of his
daughter. And he had not meant to tell her, but he could not help
telling her. He had looked at her, he said, and he had wondered,
Who is that lovely girl? and it was his daughter! That did make her
happy. But her poor dog was howling.
“Richard has improved. You are right,” said Sally. “I shall go and talk
to him. I shall say good-night. What does the brain matter,” said Lady
Rosseter, getting up, “compared with the heart?”
“I will come,” said Peter, but he sat on for a moment. What is this
terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is it that fills
me with extraordinary excitement?
It is Clarissa, he said.
For there she was.
THE END
Transcriber’s note
Minor punctuation errors have been changed
without notice. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have
been standardized. The following printer errors have
been changed.
CHANGED FROM TO
“word poetry of “word of poetry
Page 159:
herself” herself”
“lent a little “leant a little
Page 248:
forward” forward”
All other inconsistencies are as in the original.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS.
DALLOWAY ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S.

copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in
these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it
in the United States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of
this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept
and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and
may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the
terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of
the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as
creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research.
Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given
away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with
eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject
to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free

distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or
any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and

Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree
to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be
bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from
the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in
paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be

used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people
who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a
few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic
works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.
See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with
Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the
collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the
individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the
United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in
the United States and you are located in the United States, we do
not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing,
performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the
work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of
course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™
mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely
sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name
associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of
this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its
attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without
charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also
govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most
countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the
United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms
of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying,
performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this
work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes
no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in
any country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other

immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must
appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™
work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or
with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is
accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived

from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a
notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright
holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the
United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must
comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through
1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted

with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted
with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of
this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project

Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a
part of this work or any other work associated with Project
Gutenberg™.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this

electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form,
including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you
provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work
in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in
the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,

performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing

access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the
method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The
fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark,
but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty
payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on
which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your
periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked
as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information
about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who

notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that
s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all

Textbook Cognitive Models in Palaeolithic Archaeology 1St Edition Coolidge Ebook All Chapter PDF

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Textbook Cognitive Models in Palaeolithic Archaeology 1St Edition Coolidge Ebook All Chapter PDF

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Cognitive models in palaeolithic

archaeology 1st Edition Coolidge

Computational Models for Cognitive Vision 1st Edition

Dorothy Garrod and the Progress of the Palaeolithic

Dorothy Garrod and the Progress of the Palaeolithic

Assemblage Thought and Archaeology Themes in

Calculus for Cognitive Scientists Higher Order Models

Evidential Reasoning in Archaeology 1st Edition Robert

An archaeology of innovation Approaching social and

Archaeology and Photography 1st Edition Lesley Mcfadyen

Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press

© Oxford University Press 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in

You must not circulate this work in any other form

Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data

Printed by Sheridan Books, Inc., United States of America

1. Evolutionary Cognitive Archaeology 1

2. The Expert Cognition Model in Human Evolutionary Studies 21

3. Toward a Richer Theoretical Scaffolding for Interpreting Archaeological

4. Material Engagement and the Embodied Mind 69

5. Materiality and Numerical Cognition: A Material Engagement

6. Art Without Symbolic Mind: Embodied Cognition and the Origins

7. Deciphering Patterns in the Archaeology of South Africa:

8. Accessing Hominin Cognition: Language and Social Signaling in

9. Bootstrapping Ordinal Thinking 197

10. Epilogue: Models, Puddings, and the Puzzle 215

Cognitive Models in Palaeolithic Archaeology grew out of a specialized thematic

Philip Barnard Miriam Haidle

Marlize Lombard Karenleigh A. Overmann

Evolutionary Cognitive Archaeology

2 Cognitive Models in Pal aeolithic Archaeology

Evolutionar y Cog nitive A rchaeol og y 3

provocative example. Interpreting observed differences in gross brain anatomy

4 Cognitive Models in Pal aeolithic Archaeology

Evolutionar y Cog nitive A rchaeol og y 5

A Brief (and Idiosyncratic) History of Evolutionary

6 Cognitive Models in Pal aeolithic Archaeology

century. Instead of industries and variants, archaeologists now wrote about

Evolutionar y Cog nitive A rchaeol og y 7

as mental images in the minds of knappers; it also appeared in the literature

8 Cognitive Models in Pal aeolithic Archaeology

Evolutionar y Cog nitive A rchaeol og y 9

10 Cognitive Models in Pal aeolithic Archaeology

materialist perspectives with a broader orientation that granted organizing

Evolutionar y Cog nitive A rchaeol og y 11

narrative of hominin evolution, at the time based largely on paleoneurology, in

12 Cognitive Models in Pal aeolithic Archaeology

evolution. Noble and Davidson expanded on the perspective introduced in

Evolutionar y Cog nitive A rchaeol og y 13

ill-​defined, pseudo-cognitive terms such as “abstract” or “complex.” It is possible

14 Cognitive Models in Pal aeolithic Archaeology

Cognitive Neuroscience: The most commonly encountered formal models in

Evolutionar y Cog nitive A rchaeol og y 15

16 Cognitive Models in Pal aeolithic Archaeology

A Mosaic of Cognitive Evolution

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S.

START: FULL LICENSE

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free

Section 1. General Terms of Use and

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

ill-defined, pseudo-cognitive terms such as “abstract” or “complex.” It is possible