Professional Documents
Culture Documents
0278-4165/01 $35.00
Copyright 2001 by Academic Press
All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.
346
present set of meanings. Basically, it conveys a sense of intricacy in nature, structure, and perhaps causation. The Oxford
English Dictionary finds the root of the
word in a whole that comprehends a number of interrelated parts or involved particulars.
In archaeological usage complexity most
frequently implies pronounced and institutionalized patterns of inequality and heterogeneity (Smith 1993:56). Omitting rare
reference even to groups of hunter-gatherers, its prevailing application is sometimes
to chiefdoms but more especially to ancient
cities, states, and civilizations. Early
Mesopotamia, Egypt, the Indus Valley,
North China, Mesoamerica, and Andean
South America, differing greatly from one
another in numerous other respects, stand
apart as the essentially complete roster of
the original or pristine members of this
latter class.
An abstraction like complexity does not
emerge immediately from raw archaeological data. It grows by trial and error, through
analysis of many discrete settings and
through iterative testing with successively
improving methods. Levels of inequality in
status, wealth, and power come to light in
tomb furnishings, in discontinuous classes
of settlement size, domestic architecture,
and monumental construction, and in localized concentrations of costly or exotic materials from distant locales. But doubts linger
about how closely gradations of control
over human and other resources corresponded with these material vestiges that
survive to be detected and measured millennia later.
Measures of heterogeneity, similarly, are
in the end always somewhat speculative.
Reconstructions of relationships, connectivities, and individual differentiation or autonomy require acts of creation, not deduction, from limited and ambiguous material
residues (Smith 1994:143144). Ancient
texts, where they are available, can play a
vital part in helping us to identify distribu-
tional patterns as signposts of organizations and institutions. But drawing significant generalizations from ancient texts
faces obstacles not less difficult than those
confronting archaeologists.
Long preoccupied with the intellectual
resonances and aesthetic appeal of the qualities identified with cities and especially
civilizations, humanistically inclined archaeologists have tended to concern themselves with the uniqueness of each member
of the pristine class as a cultural achievement, rather than with the common, unifying characteristics that distinguish the class
as a whole. Anthropological archaeologists,
with a deeper commitment to the study of
cultural evolution at large, are less accepting of this apparent unwillingness to seek
out the general behind a mass of particulars. Seeking to avoid what can become an
endlessly elaborated, descriptive cul de sac,
most archaeologists trained in the outlook
of the social sciences today probably think
not in terms of civilizations but of early
states deriving from antecedent chiefdoms.
States are viewed as the decisive common
feature in all of the nuclear areas of civilizations emergence, the primary engine
behind a larger, dependent set of changes.
The overall pace of research continues to
grow and diversify ever more rapidly. That
alone, however, cannot account for the proliferation of vigorous new theoretical and
methodological advances. My own surmise
is that most of these derive from external
sourcesthe importation of natural science
instrumentation, techniques, and perspectives on the one hand, and insights and
models drawn from all across the social sciences on the other. But the assimilating and
interpreting of impressively accumulating
masses of new data is still primarily directed toward improving the understanding of particular cases. Receiving much less
attention are synthetic and cross-cultural
approaches to an understanding of processes commonly involved in the growth of
early states.
347
348
of belief systems and/or a high level of hierarchical control. But it also may imply, as
some Mayanists continue to argue, not a
contemporaneous phenomenon at all but
an occupation of the peripheries of the
great centers largely subsequent to an
abandonment of the cores. This is the kind
of argument that improved chronologies
could settle.
How hierarchically organized were clusters of neighboring settlement (not to speak
of the greater ambiguities of more dispersed groupings)? To the degree that hierarchy can be demonstrated, was it durable
or intermittent, or even oscillating in polarity? How confident can we be that settlements identified as contemporary on the
basis of ceramic affinities were fully equivalent in their actual spans of occupation?
Joyce Marcus rightly calls attention to the
strong
propaganda
component
of
Mesoamerican hieroglyphic inscriptions,
requiring us to view claims of subjugation with considerable skepticism. Hypogamous marriages of Maya princesses from
larger centers to rulers of smaller ones can
reinforce such claims, but this does not exclude the possibility of arrangements entered into for mutual political or economic
advantage (1992:401). In any case, the formal memorialization of a relationship at a
given moment says little about either its
real content or its durability.
In what is presently known of the life
span of major Mesoamerican centers Marcus finds persuasive evidence of cyclicity.
But the length of the cycles she has so far
been able to detect reaffirms the limitations
of archaeological evidence. Durable hegemonic regimes are assumed to last for centuries (in Monte Albans case, more than a
millennium) before giving way to rivals.
Yet on overwhelming historical evidence, of
worldwide scope, ascendancy in such hierarchies is inherently unstable and typically
limited to a few generations at most.
A more reasonable alternative is to assume that monumental centers might retain
their ritual and symbolic role through bewildering shifts of political authority
overand within!them. Such is known
to have been the case in the more adequately documented Mesopotamian case,
where successful monarchs repeatedly
credited themselves with rebuilding temples in cities they had subjugated. Ceremonial inscriptional and building activity, in
other words, need not be correlated at all
closely with contentious, fluctuating patterns of territorial control. Other, more direct ways are needed to work out the details of the latter. But here, as Marcus
ruefully points out (1992:394, 407), we encounter a serious methodological problem
with the chronological insensitivity of archaeological surveys. If the object is to detect temporary, contingent patterns of imperial control over areas of as much as
several tens of thousands of square kilometers, our ends and means are simply not in
keeping with one another.
Lacking adequate ways of answering
questions like these, reconstructions of
many fundamental aspects of social life remain in a kind of diffuse, speculative limbo.
These include a lot of what is at the heart of
any approach to complexity, regional population density and measures of sociopolitical integration and of division of labor. Particularly left in a realm of conjecture are
aspects of social variability within both regions and individual settlements, affecting
patterns of ethnic differentiation and localized patterns of descent, affiliation, and
coresidence.
The extent to which hostilities dominated
local interaction is another largely unanswered question. That the ancient Maya
were at least on occasion ferociously warlike is the formerly unthinkable but now
persuasive conclusion to be drawn primarily from new inscriptional evidence and
representational art. But this is somewhat
inconsistent with the apparent lack of military sophistication and the limited evidence
for fortifications. That suggests episodic,
349
350
351
The search for complexity as it is manifested in adaptive social systems calls attention immediately to differences in experience, motivation, and empowerment
among individual agents. Reflecting learning primarily acquired from interactions
with one another, these differences are a
critical source of adaptive change. For some
of the principal pioneers of complexity theory, they seem to be, in fact, the major and
most compelling ones that provide the
basis for model-building, aggregative categories (Holland 1995:1011, 93).
The Santa Fe Institute is the principal
center wholly devoted to the new sciences
of complexity. Closely interacting there (as
well as under its auspices by Internet) is an
extraordinary array of ideas and talents
continuously engaged, to borrow Joseph
Schumpeters (1975:84) characterization of
capitalism, in creative destruction. The
Santa Fe location, initially (and still today)
352
permits it to draw upon the human resources of nearby Los Alamos National
Laboratory. Simultaneously, it brings SFI
within the widely shared Southwestern
United States archaeological perimeter of
traditional expertise and emphasis.
What are the advantages to be gained by
archaeologists through this different, considerably more rigorous use of the concept
of complexity? An important characteristic
of complex, adaptive systems is a recognition of periodic path dependency, a dependence of the trajectory of change not on
the current values of driving forces alone
but on history. Unpredictability in such
cases can be followed by high predictability, as a system becomes locked in and
hence insensitive to perturbations.
Path dependency can result from increasing returns to scale and agglomeration. The
first cities to appear, for example, were by
virtue of their greater size and population
able to dominate a surrounding landscape
of smaller towns. Similarly, particular improvements in agricultural or craft technologies that had been made possible by
the new concentrations of human and natural resources in early cities could become
locked-in by urban supremacy, leading (for
a time) to a suppression of later improvements made in subordinate centers. Hypertrophy of institutional development and investments in infrastructure can become a
kind of dead hand of sunk costs that also
impedes adaptive change. All self-reinforcing processes tend to build their own infrastructures, hence tending to lead toward irreversibility. Finally, historical accidents
(e.g., fortuitous discoveries, climatic crises,
exceptional individuals) may play a major
role under some circumstances, outweighing the effects of longer-term, presumably
more basic, driving forces. Implicated in
the new approach to complexity is a concern for all these processes (Arthur 1989).
Evolving systems, to proceed to the most
fundamental level, cannot be understood
by isolating their components and addi-
353
354
primitive transport, at least the larger examples of the new centers could not be regularly sustained with food and other resources without an element of coercion in
the form of imposed tribute or corve labor.
So the styles and symbols proclaiming ascendancy had the implicit role of helping to
overawe both potential opponents and disaffected supporters.
Early state societies must have been for
the most part risky, transitory constructs.
Neatly conical models of concentrated
ruling authority are unlikely to have persisted for long without being internally as
well as externally challenged, perhaps especially at moments of dynastic succession.
Permanently ranked, hierarchical patterns
are therefore likely to have alternated periodically with various forms of institutional
rivalry or heterarchy (Stein 1997:7). Often
driven to extend territorial control to the
limit of their organizational and military resources, they could be exposed to systemthreatening crises by even minor environmental fluctuations or internal fissiparous
tendencies. But if larger state or protoimperial configurations came and went, the
early cities in which power and resources
were concentrated were longer lived. Fluctuating military fortunes might favor one or
another, but as a group their superior size
permitted them to retain a superior capacity to amass, defend, and deploy resources
vis--vis their hinterlands. This also explains why they continue to receive a
grossly disproportionate share of archaeological attention.
Partly paralleling the more is different
principle is what Robert Merton (1973) has
called the Matthew Effect: To him who hath
will be given more. Or specifically, the allocation of rewards and resources tends to be
strongly skewed in favor of the seeker/recipient who has already attained higher status and reputation. Advantages flowed to
the city at the expense of the smaller town
and countryside, while within cities they
were enormously concentrated in the
355
356
side one another, under conditions allowing for slowly growing self-determination
(and probably self-consciousness), were
suprafamily and local community groupings in increasingly specialized, frequently
unstable relations with one another. Examples includeto cite only a handful:
357
358
REFERENCES CITED
Adams, R. McC.
1966 The evolution of urban society: Early Mesopotamia
and prehispanic Mexico. Aldine, Chicago.
1978 Strategies of maximization, stability, and resilience in Mesopotamian society, settlement,
359
Haselgrove, C.
1987 Cultural process on the periphery: Belgic Gaul
and Rome during the Late Republic and Early
Empire. In Centre and Periphery in the Ancient
World, edited by M. Rowlands, M. T. Larsen,
and K. Kristiansen, pp. 104124. Cambridge
Univ. Press, Cambridge.
Hodder, I.
1982 Toward a contextual approach to prehistoric
exchange. In Contexts for prehistoric exchange,
edited by J. E. Ericson and T. K. Earle, pp.
199212. Academic Press, New York.
Holland, J. H.
1995 Hidden order: How adaptation builds complexity.
AddisonWesley, Reading, MA.
Holling, C. S., et al.
n.d. Adaptive cycles. In Panarchy: Understanding
transformations in human and natural systems,
edited by L. Gunderson and C. S. Holling, Ch.
2. Island press, Washington, DC.
Marcus, J.
1992 Political fluctuations in Mesoamerica. National
Geographic Research and Exploration 8:392411.
1998 The peaks and valleys of ancient states: An extension of the dynamic model. In Archaic
States., edited by G. M. Feinman and J. Marcus,
pp. 1557. School of American Research Press,
Santa Fe.
Merton, R .
[1968] 1973 The Matthew effect in science. In
The sociology of science: Theoretical and empirical
investigations,
edited
by
R.
Merton,
pp. 439459. Univ. of Chicago Press, Chicago.
Shumpeter, J.
1939 Business cycles: A theoretical, historical and statistical analysis of the capitalist process.
McGrawHill, London.
[1950] 1975 Capitalism, socialism and democracy, 3rd
ed. Harper and Brothers, New York.
Sherratt, A.
1981 Plough and pastoralism: Aspects of the secondary production revolution. In Patterns of
the past: Studies in honour of David Clarke, edited
by G. Isaac and N. Hammond, pp. 261305.
Cambridge Univ. Press, Cambridge.
Smith, M. E.
1994 Social complexity in the Aztec countryside. In
Archaeological views from the Countryside: Village
communities in early complex societies, edited by
G. M. Schwartz and S. E. Falconer, pp.
143159. Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, DC.
1993 New World complex societies: Recent economic, social, and political studies. Journal of
Archaeological Research 1:541.
360
Stein, G. J.
1998 Hererogeneity, power, and political economy: Some current research issues in archaeology of Old World complex societies. Journal
of Archaeological Research 6:144.
Wright, H. T.
n.d. Calibrated radiocarbon age determinations of
Uruk-related assemblages. In Mesopotamia in the