Ryan P. Harrod Assessing Conflict and Cooperation in Pre-Contact

Bioarchaeology and Social Theory Series Editor: Debra L. Martin

Ryan P. Harrod The Bioarchaeology of Social Control Assessing Conflict and Cooperation in Pre-Contact Puebloan Society Bioarchaeology and Social Theory

Series editor Debra L. Martin Professor of Anthropology University of Nevada, Las Vegas Las Vegas, Nevada, USA More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/11976 Ryan P. Harrod

The Bioarchaeology of Social Control Assessing Conflict and Cooperation in Pre-Contact Puebloan Society Ryan P. Harrod Department of Anthropology University of Alaska Anchorage Anchorage, AK, USA

Bioarchaeology and Social Theory ISBN 978-3-319-59515-3 ISBN 978-3-319-59516-0 (eBook) DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-59516-0

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017946475

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This Springer imprint is published by Springer Nature The registered company is Springer International Publishing AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland This book would not have been possible without the support of my family. I want to say thank you to my partner Stephanie and two children Kael and Amara. Then I would like to thank my mother Anne and sister Nicole. Foreword

Publishing dissertations as books may be something that is done less frequently (although there are no easily available statistics on this), but it is often a very pro- ductive way to take a great deal of statistical and analytical data and turn it into a good story. This was done very successfully by Danielle Kurin in this series with the publication of The Bioarchaeology of Societal Collapse and Regeneration in Ancient Peru (Springer, 2016) as well as Theory and Practice in the Bioarchaeology of Care (Springer, 2015) by Lorna Tilly. Other well-established bioarchaeologists are enjoy- ing the long run of their book versions of their dissertations, such as Tiffany Tung for Violence, Ritual, and the Wari Empire (UPF, 2012) and Gwen Robbins Schug for Bioarchaeology and Climate Change (UPF, 2011). Turning a dissertation into a book is an arduous task because the two manuscripts are very different in audience and scope. Dissertations often focus on the methods for data collection, the data that were collected, and the analysis of those data. This is sandwiched in between an introduc- tory framework that provides background, theory, and questions being asked and a discussion/conclusion that provides insight into how to think about all of the data. As Dominic Boyer, book editor at Cornell, states so elegantly, “a book is what happens later, once you’ve grown past the dissertation” [https://chroniclevitae.com/ news/529-dear-first-time-author-how-to-turn-your-dissertation-into-a-book]. In this book by Ryan Harrod, we see a young scholar who has grown intellectu- ally past his dissertation. He has workshopped various aspects of his findings at regional and national meetings in the form of posters and presentations, and he has continued to think about the broader implications (and applications) of his study. While it is a completely fleshed-out case study for the archaeological sites situated in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, it also connects well to many current themes in academia. His project ultimately addresses issues such as the effects of inequality on those who have less power to control their lives, the agency and resistance to aspects of social control that people may engage in, and the ways that captivity and enslavement often underwrites projects that benefit the elites and leaders, but not those who are powerless.

vii viii Foreword

This important study on the bioarchaeology of social control in ancient America has information that will be of broad interest to anyone who is thinking about the ways that structural violence works in human societies. While many bioarchaeologists are investigating the role that violence plays in social organization, resource distribution, and change over time, this case study takes a different approach. It examines a moment in prehistory when there was no overt warfare or physical violence enacted upon victims, and it asks the question, is the lack of warfare something we can call peace? The answer is no, because coercion and forms of controlling who has the power to accrue wealth are usually still in play with any social system that is stratified. The raison d’être of the new bioarchaeology is the conscience use of multiple lines of evidence to build robust interpretive frameworks. In this case study, burials and human remains form one important set of data, but the author also draws upon archaeology, ethnohistory, and social anthropology in order to find the sweet spot where an interpretation is supported by all of the different evidentiary possibilities. In many ways, this study is revolutionary in relation to the scholarship that came before it because it traverses sex, gender, class, health, and modes of violence (and veneration) in a way that makes us wonder how scholars could have ever rested so easily with interpretations based only on the archaeological reconstruction of the sites. This volume will aid in overthrowing the older research agenda in the Pueblo Southwest through a well-chosen combination of archaeological field work, archival and ethnohistoric research, and laboratory analyses. His work is empirically based on the skeletal material, but he also integrates archaeological context with age, sex, and status in a way that reveals a complex picture of social relations and social control vis-à-vis various types of violence. While his work includes a careful summary on the literature available on social control in this region, he succeeds in bringing that sophisticated mindset to the empirical world in a way that few scholars in bioarchaeology are able to do. Thus, this study lays the groundwork for many future dissertations on the topic of social control in times of so-called peace.

Bioarchaeology and Social Theory Debra L. Martin University of Nevada, Las Vegas Las Vegas, NV, Nevada Acknowledgments

I would like to thank Dr. Debra Martin, for steering me toward research in the US Southwest and guiding my development in the discipline of bioarchaeology. This book is based on my dissertation work at UNLV, so I would like to thank Dr. Barbara Roth, Dr. Jennifer Thompson, Dr. Pierre Liénard, and Dr. Janet Dufek who served as my committee members and helped to shape my ideas. I am very appreciative to the institutions that granted permission for me to analyze the collections, including Gisselle Garcia-Pack at the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH), Dr. David Hunt at the National Museum of Natural History (NMNH), and Dr. Steven LeBlanc and Olivia Herschensohn at the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology at Harvard University. I also want to acknowledge the hard work of the researchers whose prior work made this temporal and spatial comparison a possibility. First, Dr. Kerriann Marden, who rearticulated the cranial and postcranial remains of the AMNH burials in Room 33 and a number of the Pueblo Bonito burials curated at the NMNH. Then Dr. Pamela Stone and Dr. Ventura Pérez, who, as a result of prior work conducted for their respective dissertation projects, provided background information on many of the burials from AMNH and contributed to my understanding of the Southwest. My colleagues at the University of Alaska Anchorage in the Department of Anthropology who have provided valuable feedback on the book and motivated me to finish writing it. Finally, this project was funded by a fellowship and a number of grants from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, including the Barrick Graduate Fellowship (2012–2013), the Patricia J. Sastaunik Scholarship, the Eleanor F. Edwards and Max Olswang Scholarship, the Patricia A. Rocchio Memorial Scholarship, and a series of Graduate and Professional Student Association (GPSA) sponsorship grants.

ix Contents

1 Understanding the Chaco Phenomenon...... 1 The Greater Southwest...... 2 A Brief Overview: Life During the Chaco Phenomenon...... 3 Violence as an Ideology in the US Southwest...... 4 Human Skeletal Remains and Biological Anthropology...... 6 Social Theory in Bioarchaeology and Osteoarchaeology...... 7 Bioarchaeological Approaches to Violence...... 8 Where Do We Go from Here...... 11 References...... 12 2 Culture, Corn, and Complexity...... 19 Life in the Post-Agriculture US Southwest...... 22 Ancestral Pueblo...... 23 Hohokam...... 26 Mogollon...... 27 Salado and Sinagua...... 29 The Athabascan Cultures...... 30 The Multicultural Southwest...... 32 References...... 33 3 Systems of Social Control...... 41 Defining Social Control...... 41 Social Control in the US Southwest...... 43 Forms of Social Control...... 43 Violent Social Control...... 43 Direct Violence...... 44 Structural Violence...... 45 Social Control During the Chaco Phenomenon...... 46 Social Control as Violence and Ideology...... 47 Ritual Sacrifice, Public Executions, and Witch Killings...... 47 Gambling, Prestige Items, and Debt...... 48

xi xii Contents

Navajo Versions...... 49 Pueblo Versions...... 50 Social Control During Times of Peace and Causing Conflict...... 51 Summary...... 52 References...... 53 4 Chaco Canyon...... 59 Settling in the Canyon...... 60 The “Chaco Phenomenon”...... 61 Centers of Control...... 63 Leaving the Canyon...... 67 References...... 67 5 Putting Chaco into Context...... 71 A Tradition of Moving Across the Landscape...... 72 Aggregation...... 72 Reorganization...... 73 A Temporal and Spatial Context...... 74 References...... 78 6 Putting the People Back into the Pueblos...... 83 Reconstructing a Bioarchaeological Profile...... 83 Site and Mortuary Context...... 83 Population Demographics...... 84 Site Complexity and Demography...... 86 Pueblo Bonito...... 87 Peñasco Blanco...... 91 Pueblo del Arroyo...... 92 Kin Bineola...... 93 Wingate Sites...... 94 La Plata Sites...... 95 Aztec Ruins...... 96 Summary...... 98 References...... 99 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco”...... 103 Reading the Bones...... 103 Biocultural Identity...... 104 Identifying Social Control on the Body...... 109 What the Body Reveals...... 111 Summary...... 120 References...... 120 8 The Role of Elites and Social Control...... 127 Evidence of an Elite Class...... 128 Archaeological and Mortuary Data...... 129 Bioarchaeological Data...... 131 Contents xiii

Trauma as an Indicator of Social Control...... 133 The Not So Peaceful Chaco Phenomenon...... 136 The Nature of Leadership at Chaco...... 138 References...... 140 9 The Decline of Social Control in the Pueblo World...... 145 Immigration...... 146 The Impact of Migrants...... 150 Ideology...... 153 Summary...... 156 References...... 157 10 Conclusion...... 163 Why Is Chaco Unique?...... 165 References...... 166

Index...... 169 List of Figures

Fig. 1.1 Bioarchaeology and osteoarchaeology. An interdisciplinary approach to studying human skeletal remains...... 7 Fig. 2.1 Reservations in the US Southwest...... 22 Fig. 2.2 Map of San Juan Basin...... 23 Fig. 4.1 Map of Chaco Canyon with the sites marked...... 61 Fig. 4.2 Map of outliers and roads in the Chaco Phenomenon...... 63 Fig. 4.3 Spatial landscape of Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins...... 65 Fig. 4.4 Map of maize distribution for Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins...... 66 Fig. 5.1 Map of the Ancestral Pueblo sites...... 75 Fig. 6.1 Room 33 at Pueblo Bonito...... 88 Fig. 6.2 Male individual interred in Room 330 noted for having filed teeth...... 90 Fig. 6.3 Notes about the burials at Kin Bineola...... 97 Fig. 7.1 Hat brim line...... 116 Fig. 7.2 Antemortem cranial trauma...... 118 Fig. 7.3 Perimortem cranial trauma...... 118 Fig. 8.1 Sex ratio by site...... 129 Fig. 8.2 Distribution of age groups by site...... 130

xv List of Tables

Table 2.1 Description of Pecos Classification periods among the Ancestral Pueblo...... 25 Table 6.1 Methodology...... 84 Table 6.2 Sites where burials were analyzed by sex and age category...... 87 Table 6.3 The demographic profile of Pueblo Bonito-Room 33...... 90 Table 6.4 The demographic profile of Pueblo Bonito-West...... 91 Table 6.5 The demographic profile of Peñasco Blanco...... 92 Table 6.6 The demographic profile of Pueblo del Arroyo...... 92 Table 6.7 The demographic profile of Kin Bineola...... 93 Table 6.8 The demographic profile of the Wingate sites...... 95 Table 6.9 The demographic profile of the La Plata sites...... 96 Table 6.10 The demographic profile of Aztec Ruins-West Ruin...... 98 Table 6.11 The demographic profile of Aztec Ruins-No Provenience...... 98 Table 8.1 Radiocarbon dates for individual in Room 33 with perimortem trauma...... 137

xvii About the Author

Ryan P. Harrod has a Ph.D. from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas (2013), and is currently an assistant professor of anthropology at the University of Alaska Anchorage. His research and expertise are in bioarchaeology, paleopathology, and forensic anthropology. Working primarily with ancient and historic human remains, he is most interested in questions having to do with identity, health and disease, conflict and violence, social inequality, ethics, and repatriation.

xix Chapter 1 Understanding the Chaco Phenomenon

Located in modern-day Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah, the American Southwest or US Southwest has been a center of anthropological inquiry for over a century. The region is fascinating and unique for so many reasons. This place is where Coronado was searching for the lost cities of gold, where some of the earliest designated National Monuments were established, where a number of federally recognized American Indian tribes inhabit, and the birthplace of some of the earliest anthropological and archaeological research. The book focuses on the rise of complexity in the US portion of the Greater Southwest among a culture known as the Ancestral Pueblo, with a focus on the role of the site of Pueblo Bonito in Chaco Canyon. The goal is to obtain data from human skeletal remains at Pueblo Bonito and sites in the region to explore human behavior related to the use of violence across time and space. While the Chaco Canyon region is used as a case study, the data generated from this study can be used in the future to address much larger concerns about human behavior including: • What role does nonlethal violence play in social dynamics? • Who are the individuals within society most at risk for violence and why? • What broad patterns exist in the origins and evolution of violence in prestate societies? • What does the variation in patterns of violence reveal about the underlying causes [e.g., environmental stress, sociopolitical stratification, gender differences]? • What are the mechanisms of production and reproduction of violence across generations? We will explore the relationship between episodes of violence (both nonlethal and lethal) and shifts in ideology, climate, and social organization to understand how social control might have been used by elites at regional centers to control other site in the surrounding region during a particularly dynamic time in Pueblo history (AD 850–1300). The methodological approach taken in this study was

© Springer International Publishing AG 2017 1 R.P. Harrod, The Bioarchaeology of Social Control, Bioarchaeology and Social Theory, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-59516-0_1 2 1 Understanding the Chaco Phenomenon

bioarchaeological in nature, which means that the project assesses the biological bodies in their archaeological and ethnohistoric context. Debra Martin and Ventura Pérez have both helped to pave the way for this research by showing how traumatic injuries related to violence that can be recorded on human skeletal remains reveal more nuanced human behavior and actions, not simply the existence of warfare or cannibalism. Pérez (2006:9) suggests that it has only been in the past few decades that theories regarding violence have been integrated into larger scenarios of culture change for the Ancestral Pueblo living in Chaco Canyon or in the region at around the same time. He argues the problem is that aside from a few notable cases (Martin 1997; Wilcox and Haas 1994) a wealth of publications that explore the role of violence and warfare using human skeletal remains in the precontact Southwest have been published without considering the overall context (Pérez 2006:9). As a discipline we need to rethink how we perceive violence in the past by understanding the range of different behaviors violent and nonviolent traumatic injuries represent.

The Greater Southwest

While Greater Southwest includes portions of Mexico, the focus of this book is on the cultures north of the border in the US Southwest. To understand complexity and the role of cooperation and conflict among the Ancestral Pueblo, the people, their culture, and the environment need to be reconstructed. The Four Corners region (the Colorado Plateau) was home to the Ancestral Pueblo people up to the mid-1300s. The Four Corners is a small portion of the larger Greater Southwest. The Greater Southwest is a region that is typically described as stretching from “Durango (Mexico) to Durango (Colorado), and from Las Vegas (New Mexico) to Las Vegas (Nevada)” (Reed 1951:428). Although it is rather extensive in terms of geography from an anthropological perspective, the Greater Southwest is one of the most studied regions in North America. The long-term occupation of this region plus the arid environment means there are people still living in the region with a memory of these sites (see Chap. 3 for examples of oral traditions that discuss Chaco Canyon) and there are numerous archaeological sites with good preservation. The good preservation of sites in the Greater Southwest provides a lot more material to use to develop chronologies of occupation. Whether the dates are relative (e.g., seriation of pottery) or absolute (e.g., counting tree ring or carbon dating organic material), sites in this region tend to be well dated. The result of good preservation and dating is that many of the forerunners for the discipline of anthropology in the North America worked in this region early on, conducting archaeological excavations and making ethnographic observations. Early archaeological work was conducted by people like John Wesley Powell, Richard Wetherill, Adolph Bandelier, George Pepper, Earl Morris, Nels Nelson, Alfred Kidder, and Neil Judd, just to name a few, while researchers like Washington The Greater Southwest 3

Matthews, Frank Hamilton Cushing, Jesse Walter Fewkes, Matilda Coxe Stevenson, and others were recording oral traditions and observing practices and behaviors. This legacy of archaeological and anthropological inquiry continues today making it an ideal location for an anthropological investigation of the intersection between changing cultural dynamics and shifts in violence, inequality, and social control. The chronological, environmental, and more importantly cultural contexts provide a perfect backdrop to test hypotheses about the nature of social control and the ways that violence, coercion, or collaboration could produce hierarchies and differential access to resources. In the Southwest, one could calculate frequencies of trauma, disease, and early death, and these could be good proxies for human suffering and adaptation and changes over time. Constructing these “chronologies of pain” using scientific empirical data derived from the human remains can provide grounded and unique insights into the effects and implications of social control, conflict, and violence.

A Brief Overview: Life During the Chaco Phenomenon

Beginning around AD 850 a vast system of analogous habitation sites, characterized by the clustering of large, multistoried buildings with numerous ceremonial centers, spread throughout an area of the US Southwest called the San Juan Basin (see Chap. 2 for discussion of this region). The first of these sites was established in an arroyo in the heart of New Mexico known as Chaco Canyon (see Chap. 4 for a discussion of the establishment of these sites). This nearly 10-mile-long canyon would give rise to what would become a large cultural complex with integrated regional systems of trade and interaction and notable levels of social organization and complexity known as the “Chaco Phenomenon” (Irwin-Williams 1972). During this period, there was an increase in population density and the development of a large political and ceremonial center at Chaco Canyon. The rise and eventual decline of the Chaco Canyon region had a major impact on the Southwest. It served as a political center during the Pueblo II and early Pueblo III periods between AD 850 and AD 1150 with three large sites, Pueblo Bonito, Una Vida, and Peñasco Blanco. Before we attempt to understand the causes, extent, and nature of the Chaco Phenomenon during the tenth through the thirteenth centuries, we need to understand why Chaco Canyon was so important. Chaco Canyon has fascinated researchers for over a century. Located in northern New Mexico, this collection of stone-walled villages has been studied by hundreds of archaeologists over the years with ongoing excavations starting in the late 1800s and continuing today (Benson 2010; Hayes et al. 1981; Judd 1954, 1959; Judge 1989; Lekson 2006; Pepper 1909, 1920; Sofaer 1997; Wills 2009; Windes 1984). There have been numerous excavations or regional surveys conducted on this site and others since the late 1800s, and as a result there is an abundance of archaeological data on the Ancestral Pueblo and Chaco Canyon in particular (see the Chaco Archive). “The reconstruction of environment, climate, trade networks, population 4 1 Understanding the Chaco Phenomenon movements, settlement patterns, ceramic and lithic technology, architecture, diet, subsistence activities, and other facets of Ancestral Pueblo life have yielded untold numbers of doctoral dissertations, manuscripts, articles, and edited volumes (e.g., see bibliographies in Cordell 1997; Woodbury 1993)” (Pérez 2006:5). The role of Chaco Canyon in the larger interactive regions within the Greater Southwest is a topic of considerable debate. There are three general theories of what Chaco Canyon represents with the earliest theories being that it was an economic redistribution center (Judge 1979; Tainter and Plog 1994). Other researchers suggest it was a ceremonial or ritual site (Ashmore 2007; Judge 1989; Lekson et al. 1988; Mills 2012; Neitzel 2003; Neves et al. 1999; Sebastian 1992; Van Dyke 2008; Wills et al. 2012; Windes 1984). Others have suggested it was a regional center of control established to suppress warfare in the US Southwest (LeBlanc 1999; Lekson 1999, 2009, 2012, 2015; Wilcox 1993, 1999, 2004). The exact nature of Chaco Canyon will be explored in detail in Chap. 4.

Violence as an Ideology in the US Southwest

Determining the “ideology” of a culture from an archaeological perspective is somewhat problematic, as the skeletal remains and archaeological materials can never truly reveal a culture’s worldview or belief system. Instead, the ideology that is reconstructed is an interpretation of what the bioarchaeological and archaeological context may reveal about how the people in the culture viewed a particular site or set of burials. However, even this statement is too strong, because it is irrespon- sible to assign universal beliefs to a group that are not universal (Shanks and Tilley 1992:130). Ian Hodder and Scott Hutson (Hodder and Hutson 2003:83) state that an ideological belief may not be followed by many of the people within the society or even be something they are aware of, instead it may only be understood by the elites or privileged members of the culture. This is important to understand as the role of social inequality is crucial to the establishment and maintenance of ideology (Bernbeck and McGuire 2011:3; Shanks and Tilley 1992:130). The control of specific rituals and ideological beliefs is an especially effective means of gaining authority or power (Therborn 1999:81–82). This control of ideology was something that may have been especially important in the history of Chaco Canyon (Plog 2011). Jean-Jacques Rousseau (2008 [1762]) argued that high rates of violence and inequality were foreign concepts to human prior to the development of the social complexity, which was a perspective that seems to have been shared by researchers working in the Southwest early on. The problem was that anthropologists were relying on ethnographic accounts from the late nineteenth and early twentieth century and warfare had been largely suppressed by the time these accounts were written (Haas and Creamer 1997:245). In addition, many of the modern Pueblo people considered themselves largely peaceful in nature. “The Hopi really do perceive themselves as inherently peaceful people” (LeBlanc and Register 2003:222). Despite The Greater Southwest 5 this, there were still ethnohistoric events, such as the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 against the Spanish and the Revolt of 1847 against the Americans, as well as ethnographic records that indicated that warfare was not a foreign concept to the Pueblo people. According to Dozier (1970:81) the warfare ideology remained an important part of the Pueblo culture because “war associations are found in every pueblo.” One of these war associations mentioned by Dozier was the Women’s Scalp Association, which celebrated the warrior men through ritual anthropophagy (chewing on the scalps) and mockery of the fallen warriors represented by the trophy scalps. Although it was not the intention of the scholars building these models, this glossing over of the violence created an impression that the Pueblo were a peaceful or paci- fied people that Benedict describes as Apollonian in nature (Benedict1959 [1934]) (Pérez 2006:22). One major challenge to the lack of violence is the archaeological records, which revealed cases of massacres or mass violence events (Sémelin 2007; Staub 2016). In the US Southwest, there is evidence that prior to European arrival there were times of warfare, feuding, raids, and captive taking (Crown and Nichols 2008; see, e.g., the chapters in these edited volumes LeBlanc 1999; Rice and LeBlanc 2001). In fact, Randall McGuire and Ruth Van Dyke (McGuire and Van Dyke 2008:13) two of the earliest researchers studying the Pueblo people (Bandelier 1890; Cushing 1882) noted evidence of warfare. Over the last century, the academic literature on violence in the precontact US Southwest has only continued to grow (see, e.g., Billman et al. 2000; Crown and Nichols 2008; Ellis 1951; Haas 1990; Harrod and Martin 2014; LeBlanc 1999; Lekson 2002; Martin 1997, 2016; Ogilvie and Hilton 2000; Osterholtz 2012; Pérez 2012; Potter and Chuipka 2010; Reed 1949; Rice and LeBlanc 2001; Turner 1983; Turner and Turner 1999; Wilcox and Haas 1994; Woodbury 1959). However, as noted in prior publications by both Martin and Pérez, research on violence in the ancient Southwest has tended to focus on conflict and warfare that arose because of shifting sociopolitical and environmental factors. These factors include social relations such as hierarchy and power (Crown 2001; Lekson 1999, 2015; Plog and Heitman 2010), gender differences (Crown 2001; Kohler and Kramer Turner 2006; Martin 1997, 2000; Martin et al. 2010; Neitzel 2000), and shifting socioeconomic alliances and competition (Gumerman and Dean 1989; Kantner 1996; Sebastian 1992; Varien et al. 2000). Resource availability (Ember and Ember 1992) as well as the alloca- tion and competition for resources (Wilcox and Haas 1994; Wills 2004) have also been addressed as important considerations in the explanations for factors contrib- uting to warfare and violence. Climate change that causes environmental degradation and shifts in population density has also been suggested as a reason for the increased violence, especially if the populations were growing in size and density (Benson 2010; Benson et al. 2007; Blinman 2008; Dean et al. 1994; Dean and Doyel 2006; Dean and Van West 2002; Wright 2010). A final argument used to explain the violence is the presence of outside groups in the region that were actively raiding the pueblos. These raids would have put pressure on the populations and could have eventually contributed to the abandonment of sites. The involvement of hostile migrants from either the south (Turner and Turner 1999) 6 1 Understanding the Chaco Phenomenon or the north (Linton 1944) is not strongly supported by either archaeological data or ethnographic accounts. Other studies have focused on structural violence versus direct violence (these are discussed in more depth in Chap. 3). Succinctly, structural violence is violence that is culturally sanctioned and part of the social system. Hierarchies that produce subordinated classes would be a form of structural violence. In order to identify individuals who may be part of a captive or subordinate group, researchers have looked at burial patterns and aspects of grave goods (Carr 1995; MacDonald 2001; Trinkaus 1995). For example, the distribution and type of grave goods associated with human remains at various sites show a huge amount of variability across time and space. This has led some researchers to suggest this is archaeological evidence of social inequality in Chaco Canyon (Neitzel 2003), which may have been organized and sustained by social control (Lekson 2012). To understand what role, if any, violence played in establishing social control at Chaco Canyon, this study will incorporate bioarchaeological data derived from the human remains with theories about social control, the use of nonlethal and lethal violence as performance (Osterholtz 2013; Pérez 2012; Whitehead 2004). It will also consider the roles that various individuals buried in one of the large Pueblo at Chaco Canyon may have played in these performative displays (see Osterholtz 2013 and her discussion of hobbling; Pérez 2006; Pérez 2012 and his “politicization of the dead” model).

Human Skeletal Remains and Biological Anthropology

Studying ancient human remains has historically been done with little regard to the ethical dimensions that they present (Martin 1998; Martin et al. 2013). Unlike the ethical issues involving the underrepresentation of the viewpoint of tribal descendants, to improper excavation and curation of human remains, to osteological studies that produce detailed descriptions of morphology but little else, bioarchaeology offers a very different approach. This is accomplished through emphasizing the integration of data from multiple subdisciplines and drawing on social theory to aid in the framing of questions that can be answered by empirical data from the burials and their context (Agarwal and Glencross 2011a). Bioarchaeology offers an analyti- cally rich approach to contextualizing human remains. It also provides a way for those interested in human remains to carry out research that is engaged with a larger public and ethically responsible to the living descendants. Theory-centered bioarchaeology has the potential to invigorate and reanimate the interpretation of skeletal remains, through the incorporation of a biocultural perspective (Roberts 2011). Human Skeletal Remains and Biological Anthropology 7

Fig. 1.1 Bioarchaeology and osteoarchaeology. An interdisciplinary approach to studying human skeletal remains (Developed with Debra Martin)

Social Theory in Bioarchaeology and Osteoarchaeology

According to Martin et al. (2013), over the last several decades, researchers in bioarchaeology have pushed for framing questions about how human skeletal remains can reveal biological, cultural, ecological, and sociopolitical qualities about the person’s lived experience. In contrast, researchers analyzing burials in the past were practitioners primarily osteology with a focus on measuring and describing morphology of the skeleton. There was often little consideration of ancestor-descendant relationships. Bioarchaeological methods still employ observations made from the human remains as well as skeletal measurements, but questions no longer revolve around the categorization of humans into races. As bioarchaeologists have embraced new ways of looking at what the skeleton can convey, an array of novel methods have been developed to facilitate researchers in framing broader questions about social relations in the past (see Fig. 1.1). The current focus in bioarchaeology is on framing questions about human behavior that are designed to be theory-driven and predictive in nature. Two examples of this include the work of George Armelagos (2003) and Joanna Sofaer (2006). The latter places a greater emphasis on trying to understand the various ways that the body can be viewed, arguing that, despite the advances of bioarchaeology, researchers continue to view the body as a separate entity. The reality is that the body is similar in many ways to any other archaeological remains (Sofaer 2006). We should analyze human skeletal remains in the same complex, and nuanced ways, that archaeologists interpret 8 1 Understanding the Chaco Phenomenon material culture. Sofaer (2006:2) argues that human skeletons are just another “archaeological body” and researchers can ask the same questions with the body (or skeletons) as the ones an archaeologist could ask with projectile points, ceramic shards, or architectural and landscape patterns. The placement of human remains within the broader archaeological context opens up the possibility of drawing on social theory, much in the same ways that archaeologists have been doing for many years. The points that both Armelagos and Sofaer make are that bioarchaeology can draw on theory from anthropology in the design, implementation, and interpretation of data from studies focused on human remains. As an example, there are bioarchaeological studies that draw on theoretical approaches such as debt theory (Peebles 2010), practice theory (Nielsen and Walker 2009; Ortner 2003, 2006), gender theory (Gero and Conkey 1991; Stone and Walrath 2006), and more processual and postmodern approaches (Agarwal and Glencross 2011b; Scheper-Hughes and Lock 1987; Sofaer 2006). Developing out of this push for more theoretical approaches to understanding skeletal remains is a wealth of research on sociopolitical relations (Powell 1991; Robb et al. 2001; Tung 2007), violence (Martin and Frayer 1997; Martin et al. 2012a; Walker 2001), gender differences (Geller 2008; Hollimon 2011; Reid and Whittlesey 1999), and children in the bioarchaeological record (Halcrow and Tayles 2011; Lewis 2006; Oxenham 2012). No longer is it appropriate to conduct research utilizing human remains without a broad and engaging series of questions that demonstrate the relevance of the study. There is an increasing emphasis being placed on conducting theoretically informed research. This shift moves the study of burials and skeletons away from description and classification to analysis of development and change as well as an understanding of contextualization. It is only through the integration of data sets across subspe- cialties within biological anthropology and subdisciplines in related fields that it is possible to create a fuller explanation of human actions and behaviors and their interaction with one another (Martin et al. 2013).

Bioarchaeological Approaches to Violence

Having briefly reviewed the historical development of bioarchaeology in terms of its increasing reliance on theory, methods, and data analyses, it is clear that an understanding of the context is a required background for the study on ancient violence. The study of violence itself has a long history rooted in the nature-nurture binary, and this study starts with the assumption that violence is a complex human behavior that is evolutionarily linked with early human adaptations and that violence is also inextricably a culturally influenced behavior. There seems to be more than sufficient evidence to support that idea that violence was likely a constant throughout human history. As with all complex behaviors, it may have a slight biological component, but it is shaped to a very large degree by outside cultural forces (Ember and Ember 1997). The way that violence is expressed and the degree to which it is employed depend on a number of other factors beyond Human Skeletal Remains and Biological Anthropology 9 what can be explained by biology. However, an anthropological perspective on violence argues that often it can be viewed as an adaptive behavior that humans are capable of strategically employing in certain contexts at certain times, especially when a violent action is perceived to produce a beneficial outcome. The perceived adaptive nature of violence is supported by Thorpe (2003) who points out that any system of violent interaction must be supported by cultural ideology. Since culture, or what we envision as culture, is not static and varies depending on the environmental conditions, subsistence strategy, social organization, and political system, then it is only logical that violence would vary as well. The result is that in human groups, the form and frequency of violent behavior is not constant across time and space. The result of this variability in the motivation for and expression of violence is often hard to categorize. Regardless of how it is classified, it is critical to understand that violence is a complex interaction between culture and biology. Many perspectives can be taken when questioning the human costs of social inequality and the biological costs of personal harm. Studies looking at these vari- ables can be approached from almost any discipline such as psychology, medicine, forensics, sociology, and ecology. A bioarchaeological approach provides time-depth and cross-cultural data that make it possible to offer unique ways of explaining behavioral phenomena such as violence. Martin et al. (2012b) state it this way: Only bioarchaeology bridges the gap between the dead and living with such a robust and grounded data set. While archaeologists can provide the physical and cultural contexts of conflict and warfare with analysis of grave goods, iconography, architecture, and site layout, these studies often cannot infer anything about the once-living humans who prepared the grave goods or who made the murals or who built the structures. The human remains provide the most direct evidence of violence (both lethal and nonlethal forms) and can be used in conjunction with other data to infer patterns. The value of analyzing human remains is that it provides direct evidence about the ways ideology, violence, and power are used to maintain social control. (:3) The study of violence is of interest to so many academics from a number of diverse backgrounds because violence is a universal aspect of human interaction. There seems to be more than sufficient evidence to support that idea that violence was likely a constant throughout human history. As with all complex behaviors, it may have a slight biological component, but it is shaped to a very large degree by outside cultural forces (Ember and Ember 1997). The way that violence is expressed and the degree to which it is employed depend on a number of other factors beyond what can be explained by biology. However, an anthropological perspective on violence argues that often it can be viewed as an adaptive behavior that humans are capable of strategically employing in certain contexts at certain times, especially when a violent action is perceived to produce a beneficial outcome. The perceived adaptive nature of violence is supported by Thorpe (2003) who points out that any system of violent interaction must be supported by cultural ideology. Since culture, or what we envision as culture, is not static and varies depending on the environmental conditions, subsistence strategy, social organization, and political system, then it is only logical that violence would vary as well. The result is that in human groups, the form and frequency of violent behavior is not constant across time and 10 1 Understanding the Chaco Phenomenon space. The result of this variability in the motivation for and expression of violence is often hard to categorize. Regardless of how it is classified, it is critical to understand that violence is a complex interaction between culture and biology. In brief, bioarchaeology derives a great deal of its theoretical orientation from cultural anthropology, human evolution, and archaeology, and taken together these kinds of approaches have provided a rich arena for the data from the burials and their contexts to be integrated in a biocultural model. Another approach that has provided new ways of thinking about how the past is interpreted is through the use of data derived from the ethnographic present and working with living groups expe- riencing violence in order to assess further the range of interpretations that can be made based on ancient human remains. The value of a bioarchaeological approach to understanding violence is that it offers time-depth and cross-cultural data on the ways that violence is used or not used by humans living in a variety of settings. Bioarchaeologists have a great deal of rich and nuanced data (such as site layout, artifact distribution, and landscape) to examine in conjunction with the human remains. Bioarchaeologists can investigate the ways that change over time can introduce new behaviors. For example, when there is a shift in community construction from being open and unfortified to more defensive and remote, it suggests that there was an increase in violence within the region. A good example of this is the shift at the end of Pueblo III in the Mesa Verde and Kayenta regions of the Greater Southwest. During this period people stopped living in the open sites like Chaco Canyon and constructed strategically fortified, remote sites that were difficult to access or built into the walls of the mesas. The limitation of an approach focused solely on the archaeology is that the development of archaeological correlates of violence is not always clear. For example, fortified structures may not actually indicate that violence was increasing. It may be that there was simply the perceived threat of violence (Ember and Ember 1992). However, using a bioarchaeological approach that incorporates a biocultural perspective brings together diverse data sets and permits researchers to investigate patterns and associations. Information about violence comes from the burials, the mortuary context, and other activities at the time of death. In this way, a more integrated and holistic interpretation is possible. The importance of using more theory-centered approaches to analyzing human remains is that it opens up the types of questions we can attempt to answer about human behavior in the past. Bioarchaeology has distinguished itself from more traditional approaches to osteology and skeletal biology by incorporating theory into the research strategy. Also, newer methods for the analysis of pathology, trauma, and violence on human remains have advanced the ways that data can be collected and integrated with a wide range of archaeological and contextual findings. According to Martin (1994) and Pérez (2006) prior to the recent interest in violence in the Southwest, most of the analyses conducted on human remains have been focused on population demographics along with paleopathology and was largely written up in unpublished reports or as appendices in archaeological publications. More recently, however, there has been a surge in research using osteological evidence to support the presence of low-level warfare. However, there is no single Where Do We Go from Here 11 pattern of violence in the Southwest, as the presence of certain pathological conditions, activity-related changes, nonlethal violence, and disarticulated remains suggests a range of violence-related injuries (Martin 2008; Martin and Akins 2001; Osterholtz 2013; Stodder 1994). As Pérez (2006:9) notes, one of the earliest examples of this was the work of Turner who analyzed disarticulated human remains or individuals with severe perimortem trauma at sites throughout the Southwest, including those recovered in Pueblo Bonito and Peñasco Blanco (Turner 1993; Turner and Morris 1970; Turner and Turner 1999). The problem with this work was that little attention was paid to the variability in the bone assemblages, and as a result inconsistencies were often overlooked and differences were homogenized. Turner and Turner (1999), for example, focused only on disarticulated human remains, but even at the same sites (e.g., Pueblo Bonito and La Plata), there were burials with very different mortuary contexts. “At any given site, there may have been both traditional articulated burials, unusual unprepared burials, and disarticulated assemblages” (Pérez 2006:28).

Where Do We Go from Here

Other researchers have suggested that the large sites in Chaco Canyon may have functioned as places where high-status individuals or “elites” maintained a degree of social control over the populace (LeBlanc 1999; Lekson 1999; Plog and Heitman 2010), but the intent of this book is to assess if that was the case and attempt to provide insight into how order was established and maintained. If these high-status individuals might have been able to exert sufficient social control, this in turn might have allowed them to mitigate stress between and among surrounding communities during periods of uncertainty, drought, and increasing stress to establish periods of peaceful relations. To do so, the Chaco people would have had to establish a system to reinforce the idea of coercion. This coercion could have developed and been maintained through a range of activities. For example, violence or the threat of violence is one tactic for maintaining control over a population (North et al. 2009). However, it is also possible that there was a system that was established to ensure the redistribution of resources. This is supported by research at Pueblo Alto where Toll (1985) argues there were a large number of ceramic vessels deposited at the site during temporal events, which he interprets to be ceremonial activities. It is possible that the control over these types of ceremonial activities at the great houses pulled communities together (Munro and Malville 2011). To assess the argument that elites were able to establish and maintain a sphere of influence in the San Juan Basin, data were collected and analyzed that identified biological and cultural markers of higher or lower social status. By correlating the frequency and distribution of skeletal markers that revealed signs of trauma and other indicators of stress with demographic, archaeological, and environmental reconstructions, it was possible to identify if elites were present in the precontact 12 1 Understanding the Chaco Phenomenon

US Southwest. The identification of social status was also informed by differences in taphonomic conditions, burial context, grave goods, and the treatment of the body. To identify the role of violence, social inequality, and ideology during the Chaco Phenomenon, data derived from human remains were analyzed from a number of Pueblo II and early Pueblo III period Ancestral Pueblo archaeological sites and then compared to data collected from human remains recovered from Pueblo Bonito. The next chapter will provide an overview of the Greater Southwest to establish a context for understanding what role Chaco Canyon had in relation to the other sites in the region. These sites included other great houses in the canyon, outlier sites that are contemporaneous with great houses, and a site that may have acted as the replacement regional center once people migrated out of the canyon.

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People have inhabited the Greater Southwest for approximately 13,000 years with Clovis technology found at sites like Murray Springs (Haynes et al. 2010). The earliest evidence of humans in this region is known as the Paleo-Indian period, which is characterized by highly mobile hunter and gatherers (Irwin-Williams 1979). The earliest Paleo-Indian tradition known as the Clovis Culture lasted until around 8500 BC or 10,500 BP and is characterized by hunting of big game animals like mammoth, bison, and other large Pleistocene megafauna living in the Southwest when it was environmentally similar to the Plains (Irwin-Williams 1979; Irwin-Williams and Haynes 1970:61). The periods that followed are also generally referred to as Paleo-Indian cultures because the people were still primarily hunting the large animals, but the geographic distribution of these cultures was much smaller (Irwin-Williams and Haynes 1970:63). The later Paleo-Indian cultural traditions included Folsom, Plano, and Cody or Eden complexes (Huckell 1996; Irwin- Williams 1979; Irwin-Williams and Haynes 1970). The Paleo-Indian period comes to an end when the environment changed during the Pleistocene to Holocene transition. During this period, the desert grasslands gradually disappeared and megafauna species went extinct or were on the verge of extinction (Huckell 1996; Irwin- Williams 1979; Irwin-Williams and Haynes 1970). Following the Paleo-Indian period is the Archaic period, which is broken down into three periods, the Early Archaic, the Middle Archaic, and the Late Archaic, and begins around 8500 BP and ends around 2000 BP (Huckell 1996:323). The Archaic period is historically not well understood due to a focus on the more complex post-agricultural period (Huckell 1996; Simmons et al. 1989). The subsistence strategy during the Early and Middle Archaic periods is a little more diverse than the Paleo-Indian period with the discovery of new tool technologies and the earliest evidence of maze in the Late Archaic (Roth 2016). Citing the work of Irwin- Williams (1973) in the Southwest and Grayson (1993) in the Great Basin, Bruce Huckell (1996:328) suggests that the Archaic and the Paleo-Indian cultures may have overlapped and the Archaic groups might have come into the Southwest from the Great Basin.

Some researchers include the period of transition to agriculture as part of the Archaic, but Francis Smiley avoids including early agricultural periods because the adoption of a subsistence strategy based on corn or maize resulted in a fundamental change in the cultures found in the Southwest (Smiley 2002:26). For this book, the introduction of maize was very important because it fundamentally changed the US Southwest. Aside from being a just another food resource, maize can be stored, which creates a surplus that would lead to larger populations and the development of sociopolitical complexity. The arrival of more people and complexity requires the development of a rigid system of social control. However, the inclusion of groups transitioning to maize is important because this transformation happens at different rates in the US Southwest (Huckell 1996). Some researchers suggest Maize was first introduced to the Southwest from Mesoamerica around 4000 years ago based on dates from cobs at McEuen and Bat Cave (da Fonseca et al. 2015) and three sites in Chaco Canyon (Simmons 2006). Despite an early arrival, agricultural dependence was not instantaneous and took hold at the end of the Late Archaic period or around 2000 BP (Huckell 1996:343; Roth 2016:32). There is considerable debate with how and through what route maize came to the Southwest (see the following for an discussion of this debate Hard et al. 2006; Merrill et al. 2009; Roth 2016; Washburn 2012). In general, some researchers argue that the maize was brought into the Southwest by migrating Mesoamerican farmers (Hill 2001, 2002, 2010, 2013; LeBlanc 2008, 2013; Matson 2002; Washburn 2012), while others suggest it was a process of diffusion without the need for migration (Merrill et al. 2009). The idea that people migrated from the south is not new, but ties into the notion of Pochteca or Puchteca traders introduced by Edwin Ferdon (1955) and Charles Di Peso (1968). Following the adoption of maize, group identity in the region begins to diversify, and we see the emergence of a number of distinct cultural groups or ethnicities. A number of archaeological traditions have been identified including the Ancestral Pueblo (“Anasazi”), Hohokam, Mogollon, Sinagua, Patayan, Athabascan groups (Navajo and Apache), and the Numic (Comanche, Paiute, and Ute) (Cordell 1997; Cordell and McBrinn 2012). Beyond cultural or group identity, we have to consider the role each person plays in each of these cultures. People obviously are the ones that create this larger group identity, and we cannot view culture as something that exists beyond the individual (Durkheim 1950 [1895]; Kroeber 1917). The importance of this is the need to recognize that group identity shifts because people have individual agency, and they maintain their own autonomous identities. Margarita Díaz-Andreu and Sam Lucy (Díaz-Andreu and Lucy 2005:1–2) state that identity is something that people consciously choose and as such it is never constant but changes throughout the life of an individual. Given the complex, abstract, and fluid nature of identity, it is challenging to reconstruct these kinds of self-identifications from human remains. However people “live” their identities, and as such, there are huge social/ cultural forces that affect the body. Methods for the analysis of human remains 2 Culture, Corn, and Complexity 21 offer insight into aspects of identity such as the age-at-death, sex/gender, stature, pathology, trauma, and activity that in turn provides unique and nuanced information about the lived experience of the person who died. The reconstruction of biocultural identity involves looking at as many skeletal indicators as possible but with emphasis placed on the contextualization of these indicators. Similarly, John Chenoweth (2009:320) argues that the notion of identity is not easily defined as it could refer to the individual (i.e., who someone was or who someone thought they were) or it could refer to a group (e.g., religious or ethnic identity). Archaeologists have used many other markers to analyze identity in past populations. Prior research looking at identity have relied on several methods, including the analysis of the technological design of material remains (Dobres 2000; Hegmon 1998; Sofaer Derevenski 2000), as well as the spatial organization of sites and material within sites (LeMoine 2003; Lowell 2010; Roth 2010). Cultural identity can also be established by evaluating shifts in stylistic changes to the material remains (Graves 1982; Sackett 1990; Washburn 1995; Wiessner 1983) and the maintenance of or divergence in architectural style or site layout (Cameron and Duff 2008; Cordell 1998; Duff and Schachner 2007). Group affiliation, ethnicity, and even more so archaeologically defined cultural groups are concepts that in many ways are too fluid to be assigned to a population. One approach is to look at biological relatedness or genetic affinity to identify people in the same population. However, while biological inheritance is important, it is also crucial to realize that people migrate, intermarry, trade, and generally interact in a myriad of ways that can potentially alter their affiliation with any particular group. The result is that these cultures are created using archaeological indicators that include a particular subsistence strategy, material remains, architecture, and geographical location. Some researchers argue that the ability to distinguish between different cultures in the Southwest is difficult because of the lack of clearly defined culturalboundaries, the tendency for some traditions to adapt to the ever-changing world, and cultural patterns that are a reflection of social and economic responses to a particular regional system of interaction (Tainter and Plog 1994). Given the difficulty associated with defining a culture from an archaeological perspective, some researchers question the validity of creating cultural identities like the Hohokam, Mogollon, or Ancestral Pueblo in the first place (Speth1988 ; Tainter and Plog 1994). However according to Riggs (2005:342), “discrete suites of material traits represent different cultural traditions as much in the past as they continue to do today.” Identifying the larger culture tradition typically relies on residence pattern, stylistics changes to the material remains, and material correlates of subsistence strategy and exchange networks, while the identification of individuals and small social groups, such as kinship and corporate groups, can be deciphered from technological design of material remains. For example, masonry versus adobe architecture or paddle-anvil versus corrugated ceramic design. It can be identified through spatial organization within a site. 22 2 Culture, Corn, and Complexity

Life in the Post-Agriculture US Southwest

Given the size and complexity of the Southwest culture area, many of these cultures will only be discussed in the most superficial of ways. The book is bioarchaeological in nature, so the focus will be on archaeologically defined cultural groups, but oral traditions of extant populations in the region will be used to bring the archaeology to life and give a voice to the people the bodies represent. Figure 2.1 depicts the recognized reservation lands of Native Americans living in the Southwest today. The following is a brief overview of some but not all of the cultures in the US Southwest, including the Ancestral Pueblo, Hohokam, Mogollon, Salado and Sinagua, and the Athabascan. The goal is to demonstrate that close evaluation of the various cultures in this part of the North America reveals that even though they possessed unique traditions, inhabited different ecological regions, and likely had distinct ideologies, they were agrarian societies and part of a larger regional interaction sphere (Lekson and Cameron 1995; Lipe 1995; Mills 2002; Neitzel 2000).

Fig. 2.1 Reservations in the US Southwest (Adapted from American Indian Reservations (US Census Bureau 2006), courtesy of Wikimedia Commons) Life in the Post-Agriculture US Southwest 23

Fig. 2.2 Map of San Juan Basin (Base map created by Margan Grover, 2016, boundary adapted from the US Geological Survey (2008) courtesy of Wikimedia Commons; Source: Esri, USGS, NOAA)

Ancestral Pueblo

The Ancestral Pueblo people, sometimes still referred to as the “Anasazi,” a Navajo word for “ancient ones,” are located in a geological region of the US Southwest known as the San Juan Basin (Fig. 2.2). The use of the term San Juan Basin is somewhat problematic, however, because the boundaries have been defined differently by geologists and archaeologists (Toll 2008:312–313). There have been broad regions identified within the San Juan Basin, such as the Upper San Juan, the Middle San Juan, or the more general Northern San Juan (sometimes referred to as Mesa Verde). However, there are also smaller geo- graphically defined cultural areas, such as La Plata District (Morris 1939) or the Chuska Valley (Harris et al. 1967) that are identified within the San Juan Basin. For 24 2 Culture, Corn, and Complexity the purposes of this study, the term “San Juan Basin” will be used to describe the area in the Four Corners region that includes the modern counties of McKinley, Rio Arriba, San Juan, and Sandoval in New Mexico as well as the counties of Archuleta and La Plata in Colorado (Fassett 2000:Q2). However, within the San Juan Basin, three areas are identified: (1) Mesa Verde in the northwest, (2) Chaco in the south, and (3) Totah in the middle. Toll (2008:311) describes the Totah region as encom- passing the area traditionally called the Middle San Juan, the area surrounding Aztec Ruins and La Plata District. Some researchers include Totah in the Mesa Verde region because some of the sites in both regions share ceramic typology, but Mesa Verde is a distinct region further north (Toll 2008:313). In 1927 a conference was held in Pecos, New Mexico, at the field camp of the Philips Academy archaeological excavation to try to establish an agreed chronology for the rather rapid cultural change that happened after the intensification of maize in this region (Kidder 1927a:554). Kidder (1927a, b) defines eight distinct cultural periods based on shifts in maize subsistence, storage technology (baskets and ceramics), and architectural style. The eight periods in order are as follows: (1) Basket Maker I or Early Basket Maker; (2) Basket Maker II or Basket Maker; (3) Late Basket Maker, Basket Maker III, or Post-Basket Maker; (4) Pueblo I or Proto- Pueblo; (5) Pueblo II; (6) Pueblo III or Great period; (7) Pueblo IV or Proto-Historic; and (8) Pueblo V or Historic (Kidder 1927a:557–558). According to Richard Woodbury, these periods, which came to be called the “Pecos Classification” system, were originally designed to be used for all of the cultures in “ . . . the entire Southwest, but eventually it was agreed that it was applicable only to the San Juan drainage [Basin] or at the most to the Anasazi culture” (Woodbury 1979:28). In fact, the chronology has been critiqued because it creates artificial periods that often do not reflect the actual cultural change at a given site (see Reed and Stein (1998) for a discussion of the limitations of the classification system). However, since the sites under discussion in this book are within the San Juan region, I have provided a table originally published by William Lipe (1993:2) that provides some general characteristics of each period (see Table 2.1). It should be noted that Basket Maker I was the original period used to describe the pre-agricultural period, the time depth of which was not well understood until Paleo-Indian sites with megafauna and projectile points associated with one another were discovered. The most famous sites were Folsom discovered by George McJunkin in 1908 and confirmed by Jesse Figgins in 1925 (Meltzer 2005) and Clovis discovered by Ridgley Whiteman in 1929 and confirmed by Edgar Howard in 1935 (Boldurian2004 ). Additionally, the term Basket Maker is often written as Basketmaker in most contemporary chronologies. What is unique about the Ancestral Pueblo is that they were not necessarily a homogeneous culture group. Archaeological reconstructions reveal that there was a great deal of variation in cultural traditions, material culture, subsistence strategies, and social complexity. The differences seen among the various Pueblo groups represented ideologies or worldview, and as such, these groups had to be considered and discussed as distinctive groups with unique histories and identities. The first division of the Ancestral Pueblo is between groups living in the east and groups in the west. These two divisions differ dramatically in terms of culture, architecture, exchange, and migration (Reed 1946). However, the split between Life in the Post-Agriculture US Southwest 25

Table 2.1 Description of Pecos Classification periods among the Ancestral Pueblo Pecos classification Period Date range General characteristics Basketmaker II AD 50–500 Seasonal habitation; shifts from caves to pithouses Pottery is not present; atlatl hunting with maize and squash Basketmaker III AD 500–750 More settled pithouses; some small villages Appearance of pottery; bow and arrow hunting with maize, squash, and beans Pueblo I AD 750–900 Large villages; adobe or masonry unit pueblos Pottery styles diversify; evidence of a more emphasis on maize subsistence Some evidence of regional competition and warfare Pueblo II AD 900–1150 Large pueblos with numerous kivas constructed, with small unit pueblos nearby Pottery continues to diversify and more complex technologies and styles are present; intensive maize subsistence Evidence of regional exchange and cultural interaction Pueblo III AD 1150–1350 Large pueblos surrounded by unit pueblos and cliff dwellings and hilltop pueblos in other areas Shifting patterns of pottery technology and style; intensive maize subsistence Resembles Pueblo II but less regional similarity, numerous massacre sites, and regional depopulation Pueblo IV AD 1350–1600 Very large village pueblos with plazas, less kivas per room, and all pueblos are found outside of the San Juan Basin as people settled along the Rio Grande, on Hopi Mesa, and in the Zuni region Pottery style and technology differs from the early Pueblos; maize subsistence still intensive Possibly the development of a new ideology called the katsina religion Adapted from Lipe (1993:2, Table 1.1) eastern and western does not capture enough the variation that exists in the region, so we will look at what prior researchers describe as “branches” of the Ancestral Pueblo (Colton 1939, 1943; Gladwin and Gladwin 1934). According to Harold Colton (1943:265), branch is used in lieu of saying tribe for archaeologically defined cultures, and “. . . it is defined by all the surviving attributes of a prehistoric Indian tribe: (1) physical remains of individuals, (2) social organization, (3)religion, and (4) material culture.” These are all characteristics used in this book to describe the Ancestral Pueblo during the Chaco Phenomenon. The number and name of the branches of Ancestral Pueblo has shifted over time and by the area the research is focused on describing (e.g., Virgin River versus Mesa Verde). Four major branches of Ancestral Pueblo with their own traditions and cultural identities include the Virgin Branch, the Kayenta Branch, the Mesa Verde Branch, and the Chaco Branch. While these are largely archaeologically defined regional distinctions, the differences seen in the material remains were likely reflective of actual cultural, 26 2 Culture, Corn, and Complexity

political-economic, and ideological differences. The focus of this book is primarily on the Chaco Branch of the Pueblo. This branch is where the Chaco Phenomenon develops and has its biggest impact. However, the Mesa Verde Branch will also play an important role, which is discussed in more detail in Chap. 5. The Chaco Branch differs from the Virgin, Kayenta, and Mesa Verde Branches in that there appears to be more rigid organization in the planning of the architecture and site layout (Cameron 1999; Cordell 1998). This planning may have been a pre- cursor to the elaborate cultural tradition that developed in Chaco Canyon during the Pueblo II period. There was a distinct pattern of development, stability, and mass emigration at these large centers and this has been well studied (Lekson 1999; Lekson and Cameron 1995), but the data from the human remains has not fully been correlated with these events. Study of the impact of this rigid organization on human demography and health (circa AD 900 to 1350) could offer important insights into the ways that humans were able to adapt to an environment that was continually fluctuating, had marginal resources, and was characterized by political centralization. We will look at the Chaco Branch of the Ancestral Pueblo in more detail in Chap. 4. However, to compare them against their neighbors, it is important to understand that the features that define a site as part of the Chaco Branch Pueblo include aboveground masonry architecture, Great Kiva (large circular ceremonial spaces), and large room blocks (Lekson 2007:31–32; Windes 2007:52).

Hohokam

The culture known as the Hohokam is primarily centered around the Gila River and Salt River in south-central Arizona (Kidder 2000:37). According to Frank Roberts Jr. (1935:7), the name Hohokam means the “ancient ones” among the Pima, which is better being called the “Red-on-Buff culture” as was the case in the early years of archaeology in the region. The classification system for the Hohokam (Gladwin and Gladwin 1929; Haury 1932) was described shortly after the Pecos Classification because the temporal development of the style and technology of material remains along with the design and layout of the sites was different than what was seen in the San Juan Basin (Elson 1985; Reid and Whittlesey 2005). Like the conference at Pecos Pueblo, the Gila Pueblo conference in 1931 would help to define a Hohokam classification system that included Colonial, Sedentary, and Classic periods (Reid and Whittlesey 2005; Roberts 1935). The general range of each period was as follows: Colonial period (AD 750–950), Sedentary period (AD 950–1150), and Classic period (AD 1150–1375) (Abbott 2000:28–29). Some of the distinguishing characteristics of the Hohokam culture that set them apart from their Ancestral Pueblo neighbors includes the following: (1) their impressive system of irrigation canals developed for intensive maize production (Hill et al. 2015; Woodbury 1961), (2) the presence of ball courts (Haury 1937; Schroeder 1949) and platform mounds (Elson 1985), and (3) the practice of cremating human remains (Birkby 1976; Cerezo-Román 2015; Mitchell and Brunson-Hadley 2001; Life in the Post-Agriculture US Southwest 27

Reinhard and Shipman 1978). Several of these distinguishing characteristics are the reason that the Hohokam is often the Southwestern culture most closely associated with Mesoamerica. In addition to the archaeological similarities, there are also certain exotic trade items and some ideological similarities that connect the Hohokam to Mesoamerica (Doyel 1991; Gumerman and Gell-Mann 1994; Gumerman and Haury 1979; Wilcox and Sternberg 1982). The importance of the Hohokam similarities to Mesoamerican groups is that it has led to the suggestion that they were a major trade center for redistribution of goods and ideas for the rest of the Southwest, including the Ancestral Pueblo (Colton 1941; Gladwin et al. 1937). “Once established, the Hohokam/Mesoamerican connection is best exemplified by (1) direct imports and (2) ideas and practices that led to their replication and adoption” (Vélez- Ibáñez 1996:24). Accepting the existence of a trade relationship with Mesoamerican cultures should not be misinterpreted as evidence of some sort of a colonial encoun- ter. While originally debated, there seems to be little evidence of replacement of other groups along the Gila and Salt rivers by large-scale population movement or settlement by outsiders (Doyel 1991:227). The Hohokam are often cited as another regional power in the US Southwest (Crown and Judge 1991; Neitzel 2000) because of the apparent connection to Mesoamerica, the presence of ball courts, dense settlement patterns, and an elaborate system of irrigation canals. Conducting a social network analysis looking at archaeological features at the site of Cerro Prieto that are representative of Hohokam corporate groups, Matthew Pailes (2014) suggests that social inequality was also present in this culture. The interaction between the Hohokam and Ancestral Pueblo cultures is not entirely known as little evidence exists to indicate they were actively exchanging goods and ideas aside from exotic goods like turquoise, shell, and possibly copper (Toll 1991:82–84, 104). However, though the two cultures do differ from one another in a number of ways, they appear to have had some contact where they bordered one another. At the site of Wupatki, the presence of a masonry ball court and a Great Kiva suggests that they were interacting with one another (Vokes and Gregory 2007:351).

Mogollon

The Mogollon culture is located in a region that covers the mountainous regions of east-central Arizona, southwest New Mexico, and the northern parts of Mexico (Reid 1989). Emil Haury (1936a) described the Mogollon culture after working at the Harris and Mogollon sites in southern New Mexico (Wheat 1955:7). However, Mogollon as a cultural tradition would not be accepted by some researchers like Paul Nesbitt (1938) and Alfred Kidder (1939), who suggested that this culture was just an offshoot or mixture of the Ancestral Pueblo and Hohokam (Reid and Whittlesey 2005:53–54). Haury (1936a) and other researchers like Paul Martin found a number of key differences that suggested that the sites represented an independent culture (Diehl 2007; Reid and Whittlesey 2005). The differences were 28 2 Culture, Corn, and Complexity evident in pueblo and pithouse construction, ceramic technology and design, and general settlement pattern (Riggs 2005; Roth and Stokes 2007; Shafer 2003). The Mogollon are further subdivided into different branches. Wheat (1955) originally identified six branches, but a seventh branch was proposed a couple of years later by Robert Lister (1958). The original six were the Black River (Wheat 1954), Cibola (Danson 1952, 1957; Gladwin and Gladwin 1934), Forestdale (Haury 1941; Haury and Sayles 1947), Jornada (Lehmer 1948), Mimbres (Haury 1936a, b), and San Simon (Sayles 1945) branches (Wheat 1955:8). The Chihuahua Branch of the Pueblo (Sayles 1936) was suggested by Lister (1958) to represent a branch of the Mogollon (Kelley and MacWilliams 2005; Whalen and Minnis 2001). While identified as Mogollon, Lister (1958:110) still thought that this group was unique because they were influenced by the Ancestral Pueblo, which is a view later promoted by a couple of other researchers trying to understand the socio-politically complex site in the region known as Paquimé or Casas Grandes (Di Peso 1968, 1974; Lekson 1999, 2015). Like the Ancestral Pueblo and Hohokam cultures, branches of the Mogollon adopted maize, developed semipermanent pithouse settlements, and then transi- tioned to living in aboveground structures or pueblos (Hegmon 2002:322–323). There is a rather dramatic shift in the Mogollon culture between AD 950 and 1150 that has caused some researchers to question if the culture is still Mogollon (Cordell 1997) as it was at least partially influenced by neighboring cultures (Reed1948 ). This period of drastic change among the Mogollon has been described as “Anasazization” because it is believed that the Mogollon were either being actively replaced by, or incorporated into, the Ancestral Pueblo or “Anasazi” (Gregory and Wilcox 2007; Haury 1985; Lekson 1988). According to Cordell (1997), this shift includes three changes, the adoption of aboveground structure or pueblos, the transition from red-on-brown pottery to black-on-white, and the expansion both in terms of population size and area. This expansion is especially noteworthy because it involved the establishment of sites where agricultural productivity was less than ideal (i.e., similar to Ancestral Pueblo settlements like Chaco Canyon). Among the Ancestral Pueblo, the shift in complexity is not the same among all of the Mogollon. Many of the cultural changes are related to the development of Ancestral Pueblo-like characteristics associated with the Mimbres Branch of the Mogollon (AD 1000 and 1300) (Diehl 2007:156; Hegmon 2002:313). “This picture of cultural replacement can be challenged by examining the changes in pottery and architecture separately in different Mogollon localities” (Cordell 1997:207). Looking at other sites in the Forestdale Branch region where there also appears to be evidence of contact with Ancestral Pueblo like the earlier (ca. AD 1100s) Tla Kii and later (ca AD 1300s) Grasshopper Pueblo and Q Ranch, there is evidence of the retention of a strong Mogollon identity (Reid 1989). For example, there is evidence that the focal community structure remained important (Reid 1989:75–76) and a retention of local ceramics like brown ware and red slips (Reid 1989:77; Wilson 2007:240–241). Grasshopper is especially interesting because it is a site where there are clear signatures of immigration to the site on the material culture, architecture, and human Life in the Post-Agriculture US Southwest 29 skeletal remains (Ezzo and Price 2002; Longacre 1975; Lowell 2010; Reid and Whittlesey 1999; Riggs 2001, 2005). Looking specifically at the work of Julie Lowell (2007, 2010), who compared archaeological data on women and the household structure from the sites of Chodistaas Pueblo, Grasshopper Spring, and Grasshopper Pueblo, which are all neighboring sites, there is some evidence that the immigrant Ancestral Pueblo were primarily women and children. She believes these individuals were war refugees in the sense that they were trying to escape the violence that was rampant in the San Juan Basin at the time. According to Lowell (2010:191), even though the households resembled one another, there are clear indications of Ancestral Pueblo cultural traditions. Some of the material remains that indicate Ancestral Pueblo identity include: the introduction of rectangular slab- lined over circular clay-lined hearths and construction of smaller rooms that lack the front-to-back patterning of rooms built by the Mogollon (Lowell 2010). Additionally, analysis of the spatial organization of the room blocks suggests a degree of separa- tion between the groups (Lowell 2010; Riggs 2005). My colleagues and I reana- lyzed the bodies from Grasshopper Pueblo and did not find significant differences in traumatic injuries between individuals recovered in the Ancestral Pueblo and Mogollon households (Baustian et al. 2012). We suggested that lack of difference between the two populations may indicate a high rate of social cohesion (Baustian et al. 2012). This cooperation may not be entirely peaceful as evidence of violence in the form of antemortem head trauma and scalping is present. The trauma was the highest among the younger adults at the site. In a recent publication Debra Martin and I (Harrod and Martin 2015) suggested that this might represent a system of raiding where younger people were exposed to violence as they were forcibly brought to the site; however it could be that the violence supports the refugee narrative presented by Lowell (2007, 2010). Despite the claims that the Mogollon were assimilated or even worse never existed at all, the reality is that though the Mogollon may resemble the Ancestral Pueblo superficially in the construction of large pueblo villages with large ceremonial structures (i.e., Great Kivas), at least in the Mimbres region, they still differ drastically.

Salado and Sinagua

The Salado culture appears to develop in the 1300s in southern Arizona and New Mexico and northern Mexico based on polychrome style pottery (Crown 1994; Dean 2000; Lekson 2002) Like the Mogollon, the Salado was recognized early on as a unique cultural tradition (Gladwin and Gladwin 1929, 1935; Haury 1945). The origin and development of the Salado like the Hohokam or Mogollon has been debated over the years (Dean 2000; Lekson 2002). It was originally thought to be the product of the interaction between an outside group and the Hohokam during the classic period (Gladwin 1957; Weaver 1976). However, after decades of archaeological research, there is growing evidence to suggest that the Salado were not a 30 2 Culture, Corn, and Complexity branch of the Hohokam but an independent cultural tradition (Reid and Whittlesey 1997:258). Accepting that it was a local development, there is still evidence that they were influenced by their neighbors (Lincoln 2000). According to Linda Cordell (1997:414), there is debate over which cultures interacted with one another to create the Salado (e.g., Ancestral Pueblo and Mogollon, Ancestral Pueblo and Hohokam, or Hohokam and Mogollon). Recent research supports the migration theory to explain the origin of the Salado (Gladwin and Gladwin 1935; Haury 1945), which argues that it probably developed as a hybrid culture after the great droughts at the end of the 1200s when people were migrating and reorganizing throughout the Southwest (Whittlesey and Reid 2001:86). The Kayenta Branch of Ancestral Pueblo played an especially important role as they migrated into the region and interacted with local groups to establish a new meta-identity that combined traditions from these previously independent cultures (Clark et al. 2013). The culture in Sinagua which is Spanish for “without water” (“sin” and “agua”) is found in north-central Arizona (Colton 1946:9; Pilles 1996:59; Reid and Whittlesey 1997:9, 209). Like the Salado the Sinagua culture also seems to possess characteristics of the Ancestral Pueblo, Hohokam, and Mogollon (Reid and Whittlesey 1997:209). The traits of the other cultures become more dramatic later in time, which is why early theories suggested a replacement event. Colton was the first to describe the theory that a sequence of eruptions at Sunset Crater led to more fertile soil that in turn resulted in a population increase in the area after AD 1000 (Colton 1932:589). However, he thought that the Sinagua abandoned the region after the eruptions and were replaced by a new people (Colton 1946:311). Analysis of the sites and material culture suggest that the shift seen after the eruption was an increase in regional exchange in the Sinagua region (O’Hara 2012). The Sinagua did move and relocate following the series of eruptions between AD 1050 and 1080; they only relocated to the areas where the deposits created more fertile soil (Elson and Ort 2012; Elson et al. 2007; May 2008). Following the eruption larger settlements like Elden Pueblo, Turkey Hill, and Wupatki developed in the region (Colton 1932:588). Wupatki is an especially important site because it clearly demonstrates the increase in regional exchange in the Sinaguan region, as the site has both Hohokam-like ball courts and an Ancestral Pueblo-like kiva (Downum et al. 2012; Lekson 1999, 2015).

The Athabascan Cultures

The final cultures discussed in this chapter are the ancestors of the Apache and Navajo, who were much more recent migrants to the Southwest. Before discussing the impact that these traditionally mobile and foraging groups might have had in the Southwest, it is important to first understand who these people were and are in terms of their language and culture. Traditionally, they have been distinguished from the Pueblo people based on language and subsistence. The language the Navajo and Apache people speak is Athabascan (also spelled Athapascan, Athabaskan, and Life in the Post-Agriculture US Southwest 31

Athapaskan) (Krauss 1987; Tanana Chiefs Conference 1997). Some researchers have suggested that Athabascan is part of a larger family of closely related languages identified as Na-Dene (Matson and Magne2013 ; Sapir 1915), which can be traced back to the Yeniseian language family of central Siberia (Rubicz et al. 2002; Ruhlen 1998; Vajda 2013). Edward Sapir (1915) originally included the North American languages of Athabascan, Tlingit, and Haida as part of the Na-Dene family. Later linguists included the Eyak (Matson and Magne 2013:335). Haida, however, is not always included in the family as it is argued that it represents a language isolate (Levine 1979). The Na-Dene language is divided into three groups, Northern, Pacific, and Southern Athabascan. The Northern Athabascans are composed of over a number of different cultural groups including the Ahtna, Beaver, Chipewyan, Carrier, Dena’ina, Dogrib, Gwich’in, Hare, Koyukon, Nicola, Tanana, Slave, and Tutchone, to name a few. The Pacific Coast groups include Native groups like the Hupa, Mattole, Tolowa, and Tututni. Finally, the Southern groups, the focus of this book since they live in the Southwest, are the modern-day Apache, Mescalero, Navajo, and Western Apache. The three regional groups of languages all originally developed in Western Canada and Eastern Alaska before splitting off form one another (Magne 2012; Matson and Magne 2013). Archaeological, linguistic, and genetic research seems to suggest that the Pacific Athabascans split from the other Athabascan groups early and it is from the Northern group that the Southern Athabascans originate (Gordon 2012; Magne 2012; Malhi 2012). The importance of understanding the linguistic relationship between the various Na-Dene is that language comparisons as well as genetic studies show that even though these groups inhabit very different environments separated by great distances they remain closely related to one another (Malhi 2012). It could be inferred that since the language and genetics do not differ too much from one another (Malhi 2012; Matson and Magne 2013), then it is possible there is also a cultural continuity among the cultures, such as similarities in mobility patterns and ideologies of raiding and warfare (the importance of a raiding ideology is explored in Chap. 9). Some evidence of cultural continuity is provided by Martin Magne (2012:367–368), who describes an oral tradition of trails, dream states, and migration ideology recorded by Robin Ridington (1982) among the Northern Athabascan, Beaver culture, that has similarities with oral traditions of the Southern Athabascan, Apache culture, as noted by Henrietta Stockel (2007) and Deni Seymour (2008). This notion that the early sites would be hard to identify is supported by archaeological research among the Northern Athabascan (Gordon 2012). The general consensus among Southwest archaeologists is that Athabascan groups do not arrive until approximately AD 1500 (Cordell 1997:305–306; Lipe and Varien 1999:341). Matson and Magne (2013:5) state that the consensus for the first Athabascan site is no earlier than AD 1450 at Tierra Blanca in Texas; however research looking beyond the Plains (Magne 2012; Seymour 2008, 2012, 2013) indicates there are a small number of landscape indicators and material remains that suggest the arrival date was earlier. Seymour (2009:268) explains that the problem is these “. . . small sites 32 2 Culture, Corn, and Complexity in foothill settings near springs or along major rivers” are hard to detect unless you know what signatures to look for and the preservation is extremely good. The notion of an earlier arrival will be discussed in greater depth in Chap. 9. Although there is much controversy over when they arrived in the American Southwest, and what kinds of interaction they had with the Ancestral Pueblo people, it is clear that at least by AD 1300 mobile foraging groups were in the area occupied by settled agriculturalists. By the time of the Spanish arrival, more is known about the relationships between the Athabascan cultures and the descendants of the Ancestral Pueblo. Navajo raids are well documented first against Spanish settlements in the 1700s and then against other Euro-America settlers during the American period between 1846 and1864 (Kluckhohn and Leighton 1946:5, 8–9). However, they make a point to state that the Navajo were not a warlike society to the extent that is seen among Plains groups like the Ute and Comanche. “The Navahos, it should be noted, were primarily raiders, not fighters. They were interested in taking food, women, horses, or other booty; they waged war chiefly in reprisal” (Kluckhohn and Leighton 1946:5). However, if the Apache and Navajo did enter the Southwest much earlier than has traditionally been argued, it is possible that the intensity of warfare with neighboring groups had declined, and it was now the new raiders (i.e., Numic-speaking groups) who were seen as the new outsiders. In contrast to Clyde Kluckhohn and Dorothea Leighton (1946), Adolph Bandelier (1890) describes the Apache as formidable warriors, who were second only to the Iroquois at keeping a rival population on qui vive (a French phrase for being on alert). He makes an inap- propriate comparison for the how the Pueblo perceive the Apache, which makes their interactions seem predatory in nature. “They stood towards the land- tilling Indians in the relation of a man-eating tiger to East Indian communities” (Bandelier 1890:183). Earlier in his report, he describes the relationship between Puebloan cultures and Apache and Navajo as “peculiar” because warfare was not the only way they interacted and trade was also common. He cites the Acoma trading with the Navajo (Athabascan), Taos with the Yutas (Numic), and Pecos with the Apache (Athabascan) (Bandelier 1890:164). However, the relations are still more often tense than they are friendly because even during times of trading the nomad or roving tribes could not be trusted not to “.. . murder to-morrow those with whom they bartered” (Bandelier 1890:165). Discussed a little more in Chap. 9, however, we do find evidence that despite hostile encounters these two groups eventually have some degree of integration. Looking at ancient DNA studies, there is some degree of admixture between Athabascan groups and groups in the Southwest (Malhi 2012:244–245).

The Multicultural Southwest

The importance of having understanding the basics of each of these cultures is that they show that regional interaction and migration were an important part of the US Southwest prior to contact. To understand any particular cultural tradition, we must References 33 realize that they were part of a much larger system, which will be more apparent in Chap. 4 when we talk about the rise and decline of Chaco Canyon. In the next chapter, I will discuss the notion of social control and why it was important and how it may have functioned in the precontact Southwest, especially among the Ancestral Pueblo.

References

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. . . social order is a sacred right which is the basis for all other rights. Jean-Jacques Rousseau (2008 [1762]:14).

In his classic book Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, Rousseau describes the development of inequality as part of the “civilizing” process and as societies became more complex. He describes two types of inequality: physical inequality and moral or political inequality. Physical inequality “ . . . consists of differences in age, health, physical activity, and traits of the mind or soul” that exist between individuals providing some advantage in certain activities or contexts (Rousseau 1994 [1755]:23). Moral or political inequality is the existence of disproportionate privilege within a group, where some people have more power, prestige, influence, or money than other members of the same group (Rousseau 1994 [1755]:23). He argues that this latter type of inequality is what develops after the rise of civilization. “The true founder of civil society was the first man who, having enclosed a piece of land, thought of saying ‘This is mine’, and came across people simple enough to believe him” (Rousseau 1994 [1755]:55). In a later book Rousseau (2008 [1762]:23) argues that people can only justify giving up their individual rights, liberties, and interest if they enter into a social contract with other people to ensure that the group as a whole can maintain access to as much self-determinations as possible.

Defining Social Control

Émile Durkheim (1997 [1893]) discusses social control in his dissertation, but the concept is really flushed out by Edward Ross in his 1901 bookSocial Control: A Survey of the Foundations of Order. He describes “social order” as the ability of groups of people to follow certain rules to avoid “collisions” or confrontations (Ross 1901:1). Ross (1901:41) suggests that humans possess four qualities (sympa- thy, sociability, the sense of justice, and resentment) that work in small homogenous

© Springer International Publishing AG 2017 41 R.P. Harrod, The Bioarchaeology of Social Control, Bioarchaeology and Social Theory, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-59516-0_3 42 3 Systems of Social Control societies to help maintain a “natural” social order. However, as societies become more stratified, with increased inequality, formal social control is required to ensure the harmony continues (Ross 1901:96). The problem with social control is that, by its very nature, it is designed to restrict individual liberty. “The natural progress of things is for liberty to yield, and govern- ment to gain ground” (Jefferson 1788). However, Jay Martin (2002:396) says that John Dewey (1935) argued that liberty for all individuals is only possible through structured social control and that Jefferson understood this as he “ . . . simultane- ously embraces liberal freedom and democratic equality” (Martin 2002:396–397). In the simplest sense, the concept of social control is that within a society people enter into a social contract as a means of ensuring the society continues to operate in cohesive manner. Durkheim describes how societal norms or “social facts” act as a mechanism of social control with the following definition, “. . . it consists of the ways of acting, thinking, and feeling, external to the individual, and endowed with a power of coercion, by reason of which they control him (Durkheim 1950 [1895]:3). Ross (1901) defines two types of social control, ethical and political. The type of social control he identifies as ethical includes “ . . . public opinion, suggestion, personal ideal, social religion, art, and social valuation . . .” while political includes “ . . . law, belief, ceremony, education, and illusion . . .” (1901:411). The difference between these two types of social control is their function and who in society ben- efits from their establishment. Ross 1901( :411) suggests that types of political social control are used by small groups of people to achieve specific outcomes, while the ethical type often benefit most, if not all members, of the society and “. . . take their shape from sentiment rather than utility.” Sociopolitical complexity does not necessarily need to be dramatic for social control to develop. Looking at transitionary societies that are not classified as egalitarian or hierarchical, Hayden (1995:28–29) identifies three types of “transegalitarian” communities. A transegalitarian community is one where the production of surplus is possible but not always predictable, making the ability to reliably influence others through the control and distribution of resources a gamble. He suggests that in these societies, leaders have to develop ways to manipulate the occasional excess resources without appearing greedy or violating established social norms. They must seek power over others in the community while somehow maintaining their support. To truly understand how leaders were able to establish and maintain social control in societies where resource surplus is unpredictable, we must consider what in addition to the periodic use of violence or the threat of violence helped to ensure these individuals maintained the continued support of the community. The reality is that leaders need to establish allies and provide more food to be effective leaders or, as Dale Carnegie promoted, “win friends and influence people” (Carnegie 1936). The rest of this chapter will explore how violent and other less obvious forms of social control can be utilized to create a system of sociopolitical complexity in a transegalitarian society. Forms of Social Control 43

Social Control in the US Southwest

While the degree of complexity present in the precontact Southwest, especially during the height of Chaco Canyon, is debated, bioarchaeological reconstructions of skeletal markers related to stress, nutritional differences, and traumatic injury have suggested complexity was present (Akins 1986, 2001, 2003; Harrod 2012, 2013). Additionally, recent isotopic analysis of human skeletal remains, macaw feathers, and turquoise all indicate that this complexity was present early in the development of the society (Hull et al. 2014; Plog and Heitman 2010; Watson et al. 2015). Prior biological, archaeological, and architectural analyses suggest that several of the canyons were home to distinct ethnic groups (Akins 1986; Schillaci 2003; Schillaci and Stojanowski 2003; Wills 2009). The emerging picture is a Chaco Canyon that is both complex and not homogenous, creating a society that could not have functioned under a “natural order” but would have required a system of social control (1901:41).

Forms of Social Control

The focus of this book is on how people living in the precontact Southwest established and maintained social control. To answer this question, I would like to explore two possible means by which people could have established social control in the region, looking at both the nonviolent and violent ways leaders, ritual or authorita- tive, get people to cooperate.

Violent Social Control

There is considerable debate surrounding the topic of violence. Before discussing violence and its role in human society, it is important to explore what the term “violence” means in the context of this and other studies. Violence is often equated with warfare, but warfare is only one type of violence. The reality is that there are many manifestations of violence in the past and today. “Violence” is a culturally specific term in the sense that a behavior considered violent in one culture may not be considered so in another. Violence is part of a complex set of behaviors that humans use to solve problems that they perceive that they have. Seen in this light, violence is a crucial part of the behavioral repertoire that humans draw on to legitimate their needs and actions. It is neither an abnormal or necessarily negative notion that violence is part of everyday life in most cultures across time and space (Ember and Ember 1997). Christopher Boehm (2000) suggests that the response of early human groups to violence might 44 3 Systems of Social Control even be the reason that morality developed. In order to control the occasional “alpha-male despot” the group came up with ways of keeping them in check (Boehm 2000:97). Johan Galtung in the 1960s was among the first to illustrate the importance of differentiating the various types of violence that exist in society. He distinguishes between more obvious forms of violence, such as physical conflict including warfare, raiding, and feuding, from less obvious violence. He calls the physical conflict direct violence and the less obvious forms of nonlethal conflict that are part of the everyday social interactions structural violence. This notion of “structural violence” is important because it is not readily visible in the past trauma and is not always physical and the perpetrators are not always apparent (Galtung and Höivik 1971:73). Research projects by Paul Farmer (2004) and Farmer et al. (2006), along with Kenneth Parsons (2007) have highlighted that even within extant populations structural violence is very difficult to identify because it may not be recognized by the society as violent behavior. It is often part of the everyday and does not necessarily violate the cultural norms of the group (Farmer 2004; Farmer et al. 2006; Parsons 2007). Arthur Kleinman (2000) suggests we must look beyond acts of violence to see the underlying events that allowed the violent events to happen in the first place. “Rather than view violence, then, simply as a set of discrete events . . . unearth those entrenched processes of ordering the social world … that themselves are forms of violence; violence that is multiple, mundane, and perhaps all the more fundamental because it is (invisible) violence” (Kleinman 2000:239).

Direct Violence

The term “direct violence” as it is used in this study describes any physical action that can be inflicted on a person by another that results in harm. Direct violence in bioarchaeological studies refers to any violence in which an individual suffers a physical assault that can be read on the bones (e.g., unhealed fractured skulls, broken noses, cracked ribs, or healed cranial depression fractures). Traditionally, direct violence was described as violent encounters that result in an immediate death or sustained injury by a known perpetrator or perpetrators (Galtung and Höivik 1971:73). Historians and others typically still use this definition in studies of violence, especially in the context of individuals who die as a result of war. These forms of direct violence are often categorized as small-scale conflict. Cultures engaged in small-scale conflict often share a number of the same characteristics typically utilized to identify societies that are engaged in warfare-level conflicts, such as dedicated warriors and established fortifications. However, these small-scale conflicts do not necessarily require these characteristics, so for the purposes of this study the notion of warfare is contrasted against small-scale conflict according to the definition provided by Ferguson 1997( ). He argues that there are cultural changes that must occur which provide motivations to engage in warfare, Forms of Social Control 45 and these cultural developments generally include the following: “[A] degree of sedentism, concentration on material value, political centralization and hierarchy, and boundedness” (Ferguson 1997:343). Thus while direct violence is present in all human groups since the beginning of hominins, it takes on an increasingly organized pattern that looks more like small-scale conflict and tribal warfare once certain demographic and social structures are in place, which occurred among later foraging and agricultural groups. In this project and others, however, direct violence has been expanded to cover all other intragroup and interpersonal violence that result in physical harm. Thus, other forms of direct violence beyond war include public executions, human sacrifice, raiding for resources and women, feuding, ritual warfare or ceremonial fighting, and interpersonal violence, which can be in the form of face-to-face fighting or domestic abuse (e.g., intimate partner violence and child abuse) (Liddle et al. 2012; Walker 2001). Morris Janowitz (1975:104) states, “Historians have made it clear that, regardless of the vast and immeasurable amount of human misery which coercion and violence have produced, the threat and use of force in the past have been essential for achieving, on specific and important occasions, more effective social control.” He cautions, however, that despite the occasional effectiveness of violence, social control cannot be effectively maintained if it only relies on the threat of hostile interactions or political coercion (Janowitz 1975:104–105). Yet even nonviolent social control has a degree of coercion: If I do not submit to the conventions of society, if in my dress I do not conform and in my class, the ridicule I provoke, the social isolation in which I am kept, produce, although in an attenuated form, the same effects as a punishment in the strict sense of the word. (Durkheim 1950 [1895]:2–3)

Structural Violence

Structural violence differs from direct violence in that it refers to the violence that is not obvious and where the perpetrators are not always apparent (Galtung and Höivik 1971:73). In fact, this type of violence often is not recognized by the society because it is socially sanctioned and therefore does not violate the cultural norms of the group (Farmer 2004; Farmer et al. 2006; Parsons 2007). Structural violence is more insidious than direct violence because it is largely part of everyday life. The consequences of the violence are ubiquitous but not discussed, and they are formed by social structures that keep it in place. Unlike warfare where traumatic injuries reveal the presence of a perpetrator, identification of victims of structural violence requires more than the identification of trauma. Structural violence can be best understood with the use of metaphor: When one female dies at the hands of an angry husband, it is big news. If thousands of women die at the hands of angry husbands, it barely makes the news. Structural violence is entwined with direct violence, but it is set apart because it is not thought of by the 46 3 Systems of Social Control general populace as something that needs to be changed or deliberately attended to. With structural violence, the injury that is inflicted is often viewed as justified.

Social Control During the Chaco Phenomenon

As mentioned at the end of Chap. 1, it has been suggested, especially in reference to the site of Pueblo Bonito in Chaco Canyon, that the suppression of violence by the elites created a period of relative peace (Lekson 1992). This idea is based on the fact that before the height of the Chaco Phenomenon, there is evidence of massacres at Sacred Ridge (Potter and Chuipka 2010; Stodder et al. 2010), and after it declined massacres occur at sites like Cowboy Wash (Billman et al. 2000) and Castle Rock (Kuckelman et al. 2002) and Techado Springs (Smith et al. 2009). Stephen Lekson (1999, 2015) has argued that to a lesser extent Aztec Ruins may have functioned to control the eruption of violence as well. However, there is little evidence to date to make a compelling argument for relative peace or violence at the height of Pueblo Bonito and Aztec Ruins because the human remains have not been systematically analyzed. Suggesting that violence was a part of the Ancestral Pueblo worldview, however, does not mean that they were an inherently violent people. To be able to build the large Pueblo structures and create an extensive regional interaction sphere like the Chaco Phenomenon, cooperation not conflict would have been the dominant mode of interaction. Instead, this study looks at violence as one cultural behavior that at times may have provided them with an advantage and other times had a detrimental impact. Finally, not all researchers see this period as entirely peaceful and suggest that there is evidence of violence (LeBlanc 1999; Pérez 2006, 2012; Turner and Turner 1999) before and after Chaco Phenomenon decline. “Turner and Turner (1999) and LeBlanc (1999) see this period as one where low-level warfare decreased, and public executions and intimidation tactics were used to support a stratified social order” (Pérez 2006:26). However, during the height of Chaco Canyon, some have argued there was very little violence leading to a period referred to as “Pax Chaco” (pax is a synonym for peace) originally coined by Lekson (1992). Referred to as “Pax with a twist” by Steven LeBlanc (1999), the period of relative peace was possible because there were elites who would occasionally utilize excessive violence to intimidate and control the populace. Some researchers have suggested that the great houses may have functioned as places where high-status individuals or “elites” maintained a degree of social control over the populace (LeBlanc 1999; Lekson 1999; Plog and Heitman 2010). These high-status individuals might have been able to exert sufficient social control. This in turn might have allowed them to mitigate stress between and among surrounding communities during periods of uncertainty, drought, and increasing stress to establish periods of peaceful relations. To do so, the Chaco people would have had to establish Social Control as Violence and Ideology 47 a system to reinforce the idea of coercion. This coercion could have developed and been maintained through a range of activities. For example, violence or the threat of violence is one tactic for maintaining control over a population (North et al. 2009). It is also possible that a system was designed to ensure resources were redistributed in a way to establish a regional exchange. This idea is supported by research at Pueblo Alto where Toll (1985) argues there were a large number of ceramic vessels deposited at the site during temporal events, which he interprets to be ceremonial activities. It is possible that the control over these types of ceremonial activities at the great houses pulled communities together (Munro and Malville 2011).

Social Control as Violence and Ideology

There appears to have been some form of hierarchical structure at Chaco Canyon; however, it was likely based on competition. Additionally, hierarchy might have been beyond the individual and more focused around competing lineages or clans. The function of this system may have involved social control and the use of violence (discussed in more detail later in the book). The system may have come under pressure because of shifting climate and a long-standing ideology of migrations, and eventually it could no longer adapt and as a result, it failed.

Ritual Sacrifice, Public Executions, and Witch Killings

While some archaeologists have used these kinds of data to support the notion that violence was utilized, others have suggested that alternatives to violence were used to create periods of relative peace (Lekson 2002). Pérez (2006:26) states that “Turner and Turner (1999) and LeBlanc (1999) see this period as one where low- level warfare decreased, and public executions and intimidation tactics were used to support a stratified social order” (Billman et al. 2000; Kuckelman et al. 2002; Potter and Chuipka 2010; Turner and Turner 1999; see for example White 1992). Beyond offering evidence of regional conflict, these sites have also been linked to anthropophagy or cannibalism. The notion there were cannibals in the American Southwest is highly debated. The argument for the consumption of humans has been proposed for over a hundred years, since the discovery of the first site where human skeletal remains appeared to have been processed (Benedict 1959 [1934]; Hough 1902). The exact nature of these assemblages continues to be debated (Billman et al. 2000; Darling 1998, 1999; Margolis 2000; Martin 2000; Turner and Turner 1999). Hough’s discovery, while the first possible case of cannibalism, certainly was not the last. The Southwest is perhaps one of the regions in the world with the most claims for cannibalized remains in prehistory (Baker 1990; Billman et al. 2000; Flinn et al. 1976; Hough 1902; Hurlburt 2000; Kantner 1999; Nickens 1975; Rautman and 48 3 Systems of Social Control

Fenton 2005; Reed 1949; Smith et al. 1966; Turner 1983, 1993; Turner and Turner 1999; White 1992). Pérez (2012:23) suggests a methodology he calls the “politicization of the dead” model. The tenet of this model is that the body not simply be viewed as the remains of some long dead individual but be understood as being social constructed. This means that the body is tied to events, ideology, and memory, as well as infused with meaning. The value of this perspective is that it argues the body that can reveal a great deal about the social lives of the individual. Thus he suggests much like Armelagos (2003) that in order to reveal structural violence in the form of social control and inequality among the past populations, there must be an understanding of the types of political and economic structures in place that are reinforced through forms of culturally sanctioned violence. “It is important to consider violence as something far more complex than merely the absence of peace” (Pérez 2006:33).

Gambling, Prestige Items, and Debt

The oral traditions about gambling may provide some insight into how social control may have been established at Chaco Canyon. Though each story is slightly different, they may provide some clues about what happened to the Ancestral Pueblo people living at the sites in Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins (Begay 2004; Chapin 1940; Judd 1954; Kluckhohn 1944; Locke 1976; Matthews 1889; McPherson 2014; O’Bryan 1956; Wetherill and Cummings 1922). The exact site of the house of the gambler varies with some accounts suggesting it was Pueblo Bonito (Locke 1976:34; O’Bryan 1956:48; Wetherill and Cummings 1922:136), others Pueblo Alto (Begay 2004; Chapin 1940:64; Judd 1954:351; Kluckhohn 1944:167), one referring to Chetro Ketl (Matthews 1889:89). If an exact site is not identified, the home of the gambler is simply called White House (Stirling 1942:xxv), which depending on the ethnographic source could be either a site at Chaco Canyon or Aztec Ruins. John Harrington provides a very thorough written and visual account of a game played among the Tewa-speaking people in the Rio Grande River Valley. He notes the direct translation of the game’s name means “conceal-game-stick” (Harrington 1912:247), which is a version of the gaming style Stewart Culin (1907:335) called “hidden ball game or Moccasin” described among numerous Indigenous cultures in North America and the US Southwest. In his book, different versions of the game are described for the Athabascan (345–349), Hopi (357–364), Tewa (367–370), and the Zuni (373–382) cultural groups (Culin 1907). The different versions of this story describe the demise of an elite individual, periods of drought, a shift cultural ideology, and the eventual migration away from the area. It may be that the story offers some context for what the bones from Pueblo Bonito seem to reveal. Social Control as Violence and Ideology 49

Navajo Versions

The first stories are Athabascan, more specifically Navajo, in origin because these are the ones that have most often been associated with Chaco Canyon. For example, the story has been promoted to the general public at the Chaco Culture National Historic Park (National Park Service 2004) and in a WordPress called “Gambler’s House” started in December of 2008 by a blogger identified as teofilohttps://gamblershouse. ( wordpress.com). The following is a general overview of the Navajo version of the gambler story from a number of different perspectives; however McPherson offers a much more detailed examination and comparison of the gambler story. In several versions of the story, the name of the gambler is the same with linguistic differences (i.e., Noqoìlpi, Nohoilpi, or Nááhwíiłbįįhí). Despite the spelling, the variants of the name all roughly mean “one that wins.” However, in one story he is called White Butterfly and only referred to as a gambler (Kluckhohn 1944; McPherson 2014). In every story, the gambler is portrayed as an exploitive deity (e.g., taking women or forcing people to labor to build the grand Pueblo houses) that is defeated by a more noble man who has been selected to face him by a deity. A US Army surgeon Washington Matthews recorded the oldest Navajo ethnohistoric account of the gambler in the late 1800s. Different variations of this story have been reported over the last century. For example, Chapin (1940) writes an account of the story of a gambler that describes him as betting against all the Ancestral Puebloan people and winning wealth and slave. As tribute the people had to build the pueblos to appease this gambler named Noqoìlpi. However, one day the people decided they needed to get rid of him. They told Noqoìlpi they would put him some- place where he could start again and then they shot him like an arrow into the sky, and the people sent away the animal people in all directions (e.g., Jemez, Zuni, Hopi, Utah, and Colorado) and that was why there were no bones at Chaco Canyon (Chapin 1940:66). The story was told slightly differently by Raymond Locke (1976:81), who describes a ceremonial leader or “divine gambler” who was overthrown by a young Navajo boy who was given power by several of the gods. The reason Noqoìlpi was deposed involved him refusing to give two precious shells to the sun god who wanted them. These shells were said to be “the greatest treasures of the pueblo” (Locke 1976:82). The story ended the same with Noqoìlpi being shot into the sky after the people were freed. However, the ending differed, in that he eventually returned as a god of the Mexican people to the south and accompanied them across the Rio Grande and eventually re-enslaved the Pueblo people (Locke 1976:85). Judd (1954) discounts the accounts by his two informants Hosteen Beyal and Padilla, who provided seemingly contradictory accounts of the gambler: From these several versions of the Noqoìlpi tale, it is obvious a good deal of the narrator goes into each rendering. And it seems equally certain, after listening to various reminis- cences of boyhood days in Chaco Canyon, that the average Navaho memory is no more reliable than memories elsewhere (354). 50 3 Systems of Social Control

Hoosten Beyal describes where Noqoìlpi gambled outsiders, taking all they owned and turning them into slaves (Judd 1954:351). In contrast, Padilla says Noqoìlpi was not successful at gambling and he lost to many people until there was nothing left (Judd 1954:353). The seeming discrepancy in the two stories may be explained by the existence of more than one gambler.

Pueblo Versions

In the Southwest there are ethnographic accounts of a gambler from the Hopi and several Keresan-speaking cultures in the Rio Grande River Valley (see, e.g., the Ekkhardt Malotki (1993) and George Mullett (1979) gambler stories). Some of Pueblo accounts of gambling differ slightly from the Navajo accounts in that it is not an individual who defeats one evil gambler but a community of gam- blers who are punished for picking gaming over ceremonial activities. One ethnographic account from the Acoma Pueblo tells the story about gambling among the people at White House (kashkachu) that results in them alienating Iatiku the creator of the people and the katsina (Stirling 1942:46–47). In the Acoma oral traditions, there were two versions of the game, one for the katsina that involved competing with the balls that made thunder and lighting and one adopted by the people without permission that used wooden sticks (Stirling 1942:46). Iatiku leaves because the people make the second game without permission and begin to see gambling as a better way of gaining status and power. “Some of the boys had said that the game was more sure of gaining something for the player than were the ceremonies of Iatiku” (Stirling 1942:46). The response of the katsina is to also abandon the people. “Well, let it go at that, and see if they can run the world by themselves” (Stirling 1942:47). When the katsina finally do return to White House after a long period of drought and famine, they end up fighting with, and killing, the people until the War Twins, Masewi and Oyoyewi, kill many of the katsina (Stirling 1942:52–53). “After this the people began to quarrel. They found many new bad words36 to use against each other. Fights and feuds arose” (Stirling 1942:56). The “36” footnote was left in the quote because it reflects research by Leslie White that that states “I have never succeeded in uncovering among the Keres any “bad words” except witch, kanadyiya, and “evil spirit,” croadyam. –L. A. W.” (Stirling 1942:56). Again, the importance of witchcraft is that it is one of the main alternative explanations used to counter the cannibalism research in the US Southwest (Darling 1998). The final result was that the katsina were reborn but had to leave the people and the Pueblo would have to learn the ceremonies and take on the roles of the katsina themselves (Stirling 1942:54). Some people agreed to the new ceremonial system and because the people who would inhabit Acoma and others choose to leave and were never seen again (Stirling 1942:56). The ending of the story describes the development of the katsina religion in its current form. Social Control During Times of Peace and Causing Conflict 51

Social Control During Times of Peace and Causing Conflict

The terms “peace” and “war” are related to one another in a cyclical pattern, and the distinction between periods are not always distinct, suggesting that these concepts are not always straightforward. Looking specifically at anthropology, we find that researchers studying peace and war in the past (archaeologists and bioarchaeologists) often focus on the presence or absence of organized violence. The approach to identifying organized violence in the past typically relies on identifying shifts in site layout and architecture, the presence of weapon-like tools, and the identification of trauma on body, especially lethal injuries. The limitations associated with this approach are that there are many different types of violence that leave very different markers in the past and periods of apparent “peace” may more realistically represent times when the type of violence that prevails in the society shifts. In the US Southwest, violence may have been used as a form of social control (Harrod 2013). Social control is not simply the coercion of individuals through violence. As Klaus (2012:34) pointed out among the cultures in Mórrope, Peru, social control is also maintained by establishing a cultural ideology that justifies, such as limiting access to resources or regulating people to a particular social role. Given bioarchaeological evidence indicates that the peace was not so peaceful, it is possible that structural violence was used in order to prevent war violence that may have served as a form of social control. This is supported by the fact that during these so-called times of peace, there is still abundant evidence that interpersonal violence and nonlethal violence existed. Thus, the findings in the Southwest raise questions concerning the word “peace” as it has been and continues to be used in Anthropology. For example, while lethal trauma related to murders and massacres appear less frequently in the archaeological record during some temporal phases, other indicators of interpersonal violence are still present. Social inequality as it is reflected in the presence of pathological conditions, activity-related changes to the skeleton, and trauma are powerful indicators of the lived experience of individuals but also reveals the community as a whole and the pressures that members have faced. The analysis of all types of violence reveals that periods of so-called “peace” are not always very peaceful. Finally, the study raises questions concerning the way people use the word “peace” as it is a relative term that is defined differently across cultures. For example, while homicides, murders, and massacres appear less frequently in the archaeological record during some temporal phases, other indicators of interpersonal violence are still present such as the likelihood of raiding and taking captives, nonlethal violence directed against males and females, and increasing signs of poor health (Martin et al. 2001). During these so-called times of “peace” in the ancient southwest, there is abundant evidence that interpersonal violence and nonlethal violence was still present. Social inequality as it is reflected in the presence of pathological conditions, activity-related changes to the skeleton, and trauma are powerful indicators of the lived experience of individuals, and collectively it reveals the pressures that community members exist under. Use of these kinds of data can anchor 52 3 Systems of Social Control interpretations in an empirical reality about the effects of particular kinds of political decisions, architectural arrangements, and changes in the available of resources. Second, Klaus (2012:34) presents a model for understanding structural violence that identifies changes to the bone that are a result of “one group’s active denial of resources to another . . . that can inflict physiological disturbance.” As Klaus (2012) pointed out among the cultures in Mórrope, Peru, social control is also maintained by establishing a cultural ideology that justifies inequality in nutrition, health, and activity between various members of the group, such as limiting access to resources or regulating people to a particular social role. He suggests that “disparities in health reflect a form of violence” (Klaus2012 :35). Utilizing this model, he analyzed a population at the site of Mórrope in Peru during the colonial period and found that despite the low level of direct violence, there were patterns of health, activity, and diet dispar- ity that indicate that the use of structural violence was prevalent in the region. “[I]t points to colonial policy that did not apply widespread force violent enough to break bone as a common means of sociopolitical integration. They relied on more subtle and coercive forms of violence embedded in the functioning of the colonial reality that resulted in physical suffering embodied by health” (Klaus 2012:52). He offers one note of caution, which is that the use of structural violence by bioarchaeologists should be limited to societies where there is a political system in place to support inequality; thus, there are limitations to its applicability to the past.

Summary

One complicating factor is that lethal violence is not the only means of controlling a group of people. Nonlethal violence in the form of interpersonal conflict, rank establishment, raiding, looting, or even ritual fighting is often more effective because the people being controlled are not killed in the process. Throughout the rest of this book, we will explore the development of the precontact Chaco Phenomenon in the US Southwest to assess what role social control played in its establishment and eventual decline. Relatively few studies have analyzed violence among the Ancestral Pueblo by recording nonlethal trauma. In fact, most of the bioarchaeological research conducted in the Southwest reporting trauma has focused on individual massacre contexts or contemporaneous sites within a small geographic region with evidence of violence (Akins 1986, 2003; Kuckelman et al. 2002; Martin 1997, 2008; Palkovich 1984; Stodder 1987). There are however, a few research studies that look at multiple sites over time. Studies that compare populations over a span of time tend to focus on pathology, with trauma being a secondary consideration (Martin 1994; Stodder et al. 2002), or focus on isolated cases of dismemberment (Pérez 2006) and cannibalism (Turner and Turner 1999). The goal is to set the stage for the Southwest case study and demonstrate that it is not some isolated event but that violence as a means of social control was and is often necessary for complex societies to develop and maintain a system of regional References 53 integration. If Chaco did adopt a worldview that was hierarchical and rigid, the leaders could have become less apt to cooperate in the social contract. Rigidity and overuse of coercion and violence would have been dangerous in a region plagued with droughts and warfare and not sustainable. “The inflexibility of the laws, which prevents them from adapting themselves to circumstances, may, in certain cases, render them disastrous, and make them bring about, at a time of crisis, the ruin of the State” (Rousseau 2008 [1762]:122).

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Before we can begin to reconstruct the lives of the people living in the archaeological culture we call Ancestral Pueblo, we have to understand why these sites are so important. The most prominent sites are located in an area known as Chaco Canyon or Chaco Cañon, which is a place that has fascinated people since around the time that archaeology was first developing in North America. Located in northern New Mexico, these villages or pueblos have been of interest to explorers, laypersons, and scientists for over a century. For over a hundred years, researchers have conducted a number of surveys and excavations starting the collaboration of Richard Wetherill, Frederic Ward Putman, and George Pepper in the late 1800s (Pepper 1909, 1920; Putnam 1900) and continuing today (Crown 2016) . What is impressive is that this society based on the agricultural production of maize developed a complex and centralized society, which thrived for over 200 years in the arid desert of New Mexico without a permanent source of water. In Chaco Canyon, water comes from Chaco Wash, which is a highly variable stream that occasionally runs completely dry depending on annual snowfall and seasonal storms. The importance of these dramatic seasonal fluctuations is that it forced the inhab- itants to develop an intricate system of water management to be able to sustain agricultural productivity. By building divergence dams, canals, and reservoirs, the people living in Chaco Canyon were able to develop a complex agrarian society based on a subsistence that consisted primarily of maize but also included the cultivation of beans and squash (Frazier 1999:101; Mays 2012:388). However, this system did not always work, especially during periods of drought, which were fairly frequent in this region. Relying on reconstructions of climate change, some researchers have argued that a series of droughts in this region of the Greater Southwest had two effects (Benson 2010; Benson et al. 2007; Lekson and Cameron 1995; Mills 2012). First, they led to instances of conflict and violence due to shrinking resources, and, second, they forced people to migrate out of the region to move to areas where water was more readily available. Aspects of these scenarios are discussed in greater detail in Chap. 9.

The term “abandonment” has been used by many as a shorthand way of referring to depopulation and the discontinued use of the great houses in Chaco Canyon. While recognizing that this term is problematic, it is used in this study to portray the perspective of the researchers that support this argument. The problem is that this concept does not convey the complete picture of what may have been taking place at these sites. According to Colwell-Chanthaphonh and Ferguson (2006), the term “abandonment” is often used to suggest that groups have moved away from an area because it was bad or no longer sustainable, and as such it ceased to be an important place to the culture. When archaeologists use this word to “describe an entangled process of habitation, immigration, depopulation, and revisitation, they are com- pelled to disregard the continuities of place” (Colwell-Chanthaphonh and Ferguson 2006:39). Even though these sites are often never reoccupied, they remain important to the culture in terms of their identity and ideology. This position has been also posited by Lekson and Cameron (1995) who offer their own critique against the argument for the abandonment of the Chaco Phenomenon.

Settling in the Canyon

While there have been people inhabiting Chaco Canyon for thousands of years (Simmons 2006; Wills et al. 2012), between AD 700 and 1300, there were a series of large-scale migrations by the Ancestral Pueblo culture into and out of the canyon. It began between AD 850 and 900 during the late Pueblo I period with the establishment of three sites: Pueblo Bonito, Una Vida, and Peñasco Blanco (Windes and Ford 1996:300). These sites were the first of a dozen or so to be built in the canyon and were situated in the middle and at both ends of the canyon (see Fig. 4.1). Mills (2002:75) citing prior research (Dean 1992; Lekson 1991; Vivian 1991) suggested that there was a logic behind the construction of these sites, in that they were intentionally placed along the major tributaries of the main source of water in the canyon, Chaco Wash. Drexler suggested that these great houses could represent early contemporary community centers that were established as a means of redistribution and buffering against periods of resource stress, such as drought (Drexler 2004:49). “These three pueblos are built at points in Chaco Wash that allow access to the land outside of the canyon. Pueblo Bonito is built across the canyon from South Gap, a break in the tall canyon walls, Penasco Blanco at the junction of the Escaveda and Chaco Washes, and, finally, Una Vida is built at the point where Fajada Canyon merges with Chaco Canyon” (Drexler 2004:49). The one final possibility, however, was that these initial great houses were situated at strategic locations in the canyon as a means of controlling the area from outside rivals. These sites, known as “great houses,” differ from earlier sites and the smaller contemporary pueblos in the region: (1) they were all multistoried pueblos; (2) they possessed large room blocks and kivas; (3) they were consistently designed; and (4) there was more masonry involved in their construction (Lekson 2007:31–32; Windes 2007:52). Settling in the Canyon 61

Fig. 4.1 Map of Chaco Canyon with the sites marked (Modified from Google Earth)

Eventually houses would be built outside the canyon leading to what Lekson (1999, 2015) calls the “Chaco Halo” or the center of the Chaco Phenomenon. Eventually more sites outside the canyon were established or brought into the system creating the “Chaco Basin,” which had a 100 km radius (Lekson 1999:51). At about AD 1020, due to its centrality, and perhaps luck, Pueblo Bonito emerged as the power in Chaco Basin. The increasing complexity eventually led to the establishment of an elite ruling class that sustained its power through a political prestige economy, and the result was the “Chaco Hegemony” (Lekson 1999:55). For the purposes of this study, the Chaco Basin and Chaco Hegemony are discussed as one system, the Chaco Phenomenon (Irwin-Williams 1972).

The “Chaco Phenomenon”

Between AD 1000 and 1130, there was an explosion of activity as evidenced by the construction of more great houses in the canyon. Along with these outliers, a complex road system developed that appears to have been both symbolic and possibly functional in nature. The complexity of the Chaco Phenomenon is also reflected in the development of architecture suggesting communalism as well as a shift in the mortuary context or burial practices of the region. For example, during the height of the Chaco Phenomenon (AD 1060), the largest Great Kiva, Casa Rinconada, was built among a number of smaller pueblos across Chaco Wash from the Great Houses. This is important because large communal structures are typically constructed as a 62 4 Chaco Canyon means of reducing interpersonal conflict within large aggregated societies (Braun and Plog 1982; Haas 1990). As mentioned in Chap. 1, there is considerable debate over the nature of the sites in Chaco Canyon. The most apparent problem is that it is not yet clear how many people ever lived at Chaco Canyon. In Chap. 6, I will provide an overview of the human skeletal remains recovered from the various pueblo structures built in the canyon, and it will be apparent that we are only seeing a small portion of the population living during the Chaco Phenomenon. According to Nelson (1995:602), over the years there have been a number of very different figures proposed to estimate how many people actual lived in the canyon. Judge (1989) suggested that the population could range anywhere between 2000 and 10,000 individuals. Vivian (1991) estimates the population to have been around 5000, while Lekson (2009) suggests it may have been between 2000 and 3000. Regardless of the exact size, Nelson (1995:600) argues that population size is not necessarily indicative of political power and organization. He cites the demographic model later published by Kosse (1996), which suggests that above 500 people a range of sociopolitical systems are possible. A second factor according to Mills (2002) that limits our understanding of what was happening at Chaco Canyon is that there is considerable debate among researchers concerning the function of the largest of the pueblo architectural structures in Chaco Canyon, referred to as great houses. This is especially true of the great house at the center of the canyon, Pueblo Bonito. The role of Pueblo Bonito is something that this research will attempt to address. However, another intriguing question revolves around the organization of labor that it would have taken to construct the great houses and surrounding smaller villages. The third factor that causes debate over the precise nature of what the Chaco Phenomenon was is the elaborate road system that led into Chaco Canyon from many points outside the canyon (Marshall 1997; Sofaer et al. 1989). Unfortunately, it is not clear which people at the sites used these or why they were even built and maintained in the first place. “The road system emanating from the canyon unequiv- ocally marks Chaco as the center of a network of related Anasazi settlements. It made the transport of timber for construction easier, and it shaped the settlement pattern” (Dent and Coleman 1997:58). The symbolic nature of the roads is supported by ethnographic evidence where Pueblo people recorded in historic docu- ments were using roads like the Wenimats and Zuni Slat or Barefoot trails for “pilgrimage avenues” (Marshall 1997:63). Additionally, some of the roads point to bodies of water, many are oriented by cardinal directions, and they are constructed to remain relatively straight regardless of terrain (e.g., steep inclines and steps carved into the mesa walls) (Marshall 1997:71). Kantner and Kingtigh (Kantner and Kintigh 2006) state that the roads serve to connect Chaco Canyon to the outliers and other locations on the landscape that must have been important ideologically. The importance of the outliers and roads is that they attest to the complex system that had developed in the San Juan Basin (Fig. 4.2). Settling in the Canyon 63

Fig. 4.2 Map of outliers and roads in the Chaco Phenomenon (Modified version of figure 2 in the USGS 2004 report “Sources of Ancient Maize Found in Chacoan Great Houses (https://pubs.usgs. gov/fs/2004/3035/)). Miles reported instead of kilometers to represent the current roads and cities

Centers of Control

Researchers have identified two sites as regional centers in the San Juan Basin, the sites in Chaco Canyon and later sites called Aztec Ruins to the north (Judge 1989; Lekson 1999, 2015; Toll 2008). Aztec Ruins came into prominence after the decline of Chaco Canyon during the late 1100s and early 1200s, and though it has several similarities with the sites in Chaco Canyon, there are noticeable archaeological differences. Thus, the site “ . . . may represent an attempt to bring Chaco back to life in only a slightly modified form” (Cordell 1996:233). The reason that Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins are identified as regional centers is because they are larger and the architecture is more elaborate than other sites around them, and there are high-status burials interred at each site. However, Aztec Ruins lacks the complexity of Chaco Canyon, so it is possible that this site never reached the level of influence thought to have been achieved at the earlier center. Chaco Canyon contains 14 great houses, the largest of these has nearly 700 rooms 64 4 Chaco Canyon

(Lekson 2007), while Aztec Ruins is composed of 3 great houses and the largest has approximately 500 rooms (Lister and Lister 1987). The size of these sites may offer support for the presence of large political centers that temporally follow one another. It is not universally agreed, however, that Aztec Ruins was a continuation of Chaco Canyon. Wilcox (1996, 1999) argues that some of the more distant outliers (e.g., Wupatki, the Sinaguan site on the border of the Kayenta Branch region) and the later sites at Aztec Ruins were not an extension of Chaco Canyon but a reaction to it. Looking specifically at Aztec Ruins, he suggests the sites were a regional power in the Totah that developed as a separate competing regional polity (Wilcox 1999). The notion that there were many competing polities has also been proposed at Chaco Canyon by Kantner (1996), who suggests that many of the great houses, not just Pueblo Bonito, may represent residential leaders competing for power and prestige. The problem is that unlike Pueblo Bonito there are relatively few, if any, burials recovered from within the other great houses, so other elite individuals could potentially remain interred at these sites. Van Dyke (2008) offers a compromise between the two models. She suggests that though there was an introduction of Chacoan people and ideas to the Totah at Aztec Ruins, there was opposition to the new center by people in Chaco Canyon. The result was competing ideological systems (Van Dyke 2008:344). The model of a competing polity lends support to the Chaco Phenomenon not being a true hierarchically structured system but a heterarchy where lineage or clan groups competed for sociopolitical prestige (this concept will be explored further in Chap. 8). A continuation of architectural styles suggests a relationship between the people at Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins (Judge 1989; Lister and Lister 1987; Stein and McKenna 1988; Toll 2008). Lekson (1999, 2015) points out that the similarities between the sandstone great houses during the initial building phase of Aztec Ruins are remarkable, as well as the presence of tri-wall structures at both Pueblo del Arroyo and Aztec Ruins. “With its Tri-wall Structure, the site also must have played a key role during the late 1100s resurgence in canyon population when many large and small houses were refurbished and reoccupied” (Windes 2010:96). However, Wills, (Wills 2009:294) citing the work of Stein and McKenna (1988) at Aztec Ruins, suggested that these tri-wall structures may have been important ceremonial structures. These structures are late and postdate Pueblo Bonito, so it may be possible that they represent an ideological shift in the early Pueblo III period that differed from what was present during the height of the Chaco Phenomenon. “The builders of Aztec were probably Chacoans who left the canyon in the AD 1080s, either because of intense competition for leadership in the canyon, or perhaps as part of a colonization effort” (Van Dyke 2009:230). Van Dyke has also shown that there are striking similarities in the spatial orientation and distribution of Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins (Fig. 4.3). Lekson (1999, 2015) argues that this spatial relationship between Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins extends beyond orientation within their respective regions and that they are oriented to one another within the larger landscape of the Southwest. He suggests that based on research by Sofaer (1997, 2007), Aztec Ruins is directly north of the Chaco Canyon great house, Pueblo Alto, with a variation of only 2.5 Settling in the Canyon 65

Fig. 4.3 Spatial landscape of Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins (Modified from Google Earth and the line drawings by Van Dyke (2009:228)) degrees. Lekson (1999, 2015) believes that the alignment of these sites was intentional. North appears to be an important ideological component for the cultures inhabiting Chaco Canyon. Symbolism is extremely important at Chaco Canyon, as it seems to be at the heart of the symbolic road system, and is reflected in the fact that many of the sites and structures are aligned along astronomical and cardinal orientations (Sofaer 1997, 2007). Munro and Malville (2011) suggest this focus on symbolism may have represented the elites attempting to establish social control through ideology. Trade networks also provide archaeological support for the two sites being regional centers. Within the Southwest, there is the presence of exotic trade goods, such as macaw feathers, shell, turquoise, and copper bells, and these are found in higher concentrations in these two sites than in most other areas of the Southwest. Furthermore, the analysis of strontium isotopes from maize indicates (see Fig. 4.4) that both Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins were getting maize from a significant distance (Benson 2010; Benson et al. 2009). Prior to AD 1130 it seems that the maize was coming from the Upper Rio Chaco (Benson et al. 2009:402). The importance of maize coming from sites up the wash is that it suggests there was a Chaco “Halo” (Doyel et al. 1984; Lekson 1999, 2015). Analysis of maize cobs dating to after AD 1180 seems to indicate that the maize was being brought in from the Zuni region, the Mesa Verde-McElmo Dome area, and the Totah area (Benson 2010:628). The importance of this is that the maize importation extended beyond the Chaco “Halo” to areas where the Chacoan people are suggested to have migrated as Chaco Canyon’s influence was beginning to decline. The implications of the remaining populations of post-AD 1180 Chacoans not growing their own corn in the recently vacated area are that either they were dependent on corn being supplied by their home communities or that immigrants from Chaco were sending the corn back to their relatives who stayed behind. While it is 66 4 Chaco Canyon

Fig. 4.4 Map of maize distribution for Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins identified by isotopic source. The light area is during the earlier occupations at Chaco Canyon and the darker areas are later occupations (Base map created by Margan Grover, 2016, shaded areas adapted from Benson et al. (2009:388)) possible that the new emigrants to Chaco (during the McElmo phase) were continuing to receive corn from their relatives in the North, it is highly unlikely that groups would continue to support populations that migrated away unless they were somehow special like the migrating elites Lekson suggests (Lekson 1999; Lekson 2015). As an alternative explanation, Benson (2010) suggests that the maize more likely came from the Totah area when the central power of the Chaco Phenomenon shifted north to Aztec Ruins. Benson’s argument is that the people in Chaco Canyon likely supported the groups leaving. After the majority of people had migrated, however, the new communities supported those who continued to inhabit the canyon. This is supported by the fact that similar to Chaco Canyon, the people at Aztec Ruins were References 67 also obtaining maize from a distance with the maize originating in Mesa Verde and the McElmo Dome Region (Benson et al. 2009:403). The implication of the connection between Aztec Ruins and Chaco Canyon, more specifically Pueblo Bonito, is that one of two things was taking place (Van Dyke 2009). First, people migrating from Chaco Canyon could have been trying to reproduce their culture in a new region by paying homage to their ancestral homeland (Stein and McKenna 1988). Second, it could be that this connection implies more than simple replication, but instead represents a conscious effort to create a new regional center (Judge 1989; Lekson 1999, 2015; Toll 2008). To understand the Chaco Phenomenon and the role it played in the Puebloan worldview, we must examine it both temporally and spatially. This project analyzes violence as it played out in the Chaco Phenomenon by examining other sites in the region that pre- and postdate these Pueblo Bonito.

Leaving the Canyon

There is evidence that during a series of droughts between AD 1125 and 1150, there was a cessation in building at the sites in the canyon accompanied by the ritual burning of existing rooms within great houses. The presence of burning seems to suggest that these sites were intentionally deserted or abandoned by the Ancestral Pueblo culture (LeBlanc 1999; Lekson 1999, 2015; Lekson and Cameron 1995). A second series of droughts was likely the catalyst for the downfall of Aztec Ruins. By AD 1290, Aztec Ruins was deserted (Brown et al. 2008), which coincided with a mass exodus of the entire San Juan Basin (Benson et al. 2007; Lekson 1999, 2015). This abandonment has been linked to both violence and climate change.

References

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Lister, R. H., & Lister, F. C. (1987). Aztec Ruins of the animas: Excavated, preserved, and interpreted. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Marshall, M. P. (1997). The Chacoan roads: A cosmological interpretation. In B. H. Morrow & V. Price (Eds.), Anasazi architecture and American Design (pp. 62–74). Albuquerque: University of New Mexico. Mays, L. W. (2012). Water supply sustainability of ancient civilizations in Mesoamerica and the American South-West. In A. N. Angelakis, L. W. Mays, D. Koutsoyiannis, & N. Mamassis (Eds.), Evolution of water supply through the millennia (pp. 383–406). London: IWA Publishing. Mills, B. J. (2002). Recent research on Chaco: Changing views on economy, ritual, and society. Journal of Archaeological Research, 10(1), 65–117. Mills, B. J. (2012). The archaeology of the greater Southwest: Migration, inequality, and religious transformations. In T. R. Pauketat (Ed.), The Oxford handbook of North American archaeology (pp. 547–560). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Munro, A. M., & Malville, J. M. (2011). Ancestors and the sun: Astronomy, architecture and culture at Chaco Canyon. Proceedings of the International Astronomical Union, 7(S278), 255–264. Nelson, B. A. (1995). Complexity, hierarchy, and scale: A controlled comparison between Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, and La Quemada, Zacatecas. American Antiquity, 60(4), 597–618. Pepper, G. H. (1909). The exploration of a burial-room in Pueblo Bonito, New Mexico. In F. Boaz, R. B. Dixon, F. W. Hodge, A. L. Kroeber, & H. I. Smith (Eds.), Putnam anniversary volume: Anthropological essays (pp. 196–252). New York: G. E. Stechert and Co.. Pepper, G. H. (1920). Pueblo Bonito. New York: Anthropological papers, no. 27, American Museum of Natural History. Putnam, F. W. (1900). Ancient Pueblos of Chaco Cañon. American Journal of Archaeology, 4(1), 166. Simmons, A. H. (2006). Early people, early maize, and late archaic ecology in the Southwest. In D. E. Doyel & J. S. Dean (Eds.), Environmental change and human adaptation in the ancient American Southwest (pp. 10–25). Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Sofaer, A. (1997). The primary architecture of the Chacoan culture: A cosmological expression. In B. H. Morrow & V. Price (Eds.), Anasazi architecture and American Design (pp. 88–132). Albuquerque: University of New Mexico. Sofaer, A. (2007). The primary architecture of the Chacoan culture: A cosmological expression. In S. H. Lekson (Ed.), The architecture of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico (pp. 225–254). Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Sofaer, A., Marshall, M. P., & Sinclair, R. M. (1989). The great north road: A cosmographic expression of the Chaco culture of New Mexico. In A. F. Aveni (Ed.), World Archaeoastronomy (pp. 365–376). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stein, J. R., & McKenna, P. J. (1988). An archaeological reconnaissance of a late Bonito phase occupation near Aztec Ruins National Monument,. New Mexico. Retrieved from Santa Fe: Toll, H. W. (2008). The La Plata, the Totah, and the Chaco: Variations on a theme. In P. F. Reed (Ed.), Chaco’s northern Prodigies: Salmon, Aztec, and the Ascendacy of the middle San Juan region after AD 1100 (pp. 309–333). Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Van Dyke, R. M. (2008). Sacred landscapes: The Chaco-Totah connection. In P. F. Reed (Ed.), Chaco’s northern Prodigies: Salmon, Aztec, and the Ascendacy of the middle San Juan region after AD 1100 (pp. 334–348). Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Van Dyke, R. M. (2009). Chaco reloaded: Discursive social memory on the post-Chacoan landscape. Journal of Social Archaeology, 9(2), 220–248. Vivian, R. G. (1991). Chaco Subsistence. In P. L. Crown & W. J. Judge (Eds.), Chaco and Hohokam: Prehistoric regional systems in the American Southwest (pp. 57–75). Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. Wilcox, D. R. (1996). Pueblo III people and polity in relational context. In M. A. Adler (Ed.), The prehistoric pueblo World, A.D. 1150–1350 (pp. 241–254). Tucson: University of Arizona Press. 70 4 Chaco Canyon

Wilcox, D. R. (1999). A Peregrine view of Macroregional Systems in the North American Southwest, A.D. 750–1250. In J. E. Neitzel (Ed.), Great towns and regional polities in the American Southwest and Southeast (pp. 115–141). Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Wills, W. H. (2009). Cultural identity and the archaeological construction of historical narratives: An example from Chaco Canyon. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory, 16, 283–319. Wills, W. H., Worman, F. S., Dorshow, W., & Richards-Rissetto, H. (2012). Shabik’eschee village in Chaco Canyon: Beyond the archetype. American Antiquity, 77(2), 326–350. Windes, T. C. (2007). Gearing up and piling on: Early great houses in the interior San Juan Basin. In S. H. Lekson (Ed.), The architecture of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico (pp. 45–92). Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Windes, T. C. (2010). Dendrochronology and structural wood use at Pueblo del Arroyo, Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. Journal of Field Archaeology, 35(1), 78–98. Windes, T. C., & Ford, D. (1996). The Chaco wood project: The chronometric reappraisal of Pueblo Bonito. American Antiquity, 61(2), 295–310. Chapter 5 Putting Chaco into Context

In this chapter I will discuss the importance of looking across the San Juan basin and highlight how migration was a part of the Ancestral Pueblo worldview. Stephen Lekson (1993) suggests that the reason for a greater migration rate among the Ancestral Pueblo is that the environment in which they lived required more mobility for the successful subsistence based on agriculture. The problem is that when researchers are talking about the high migration rates, they are typically not talking about all of the Ancestral Pueblo. Close evaluation of this group reveals that there is a great deal of variation in cultural traditions and ideologies or worldview. As mentioned in Chap. 2, the Ancestral Pueblo are divided into independent branches that include the Chaco, Kayenta, Mesa Verde, and Virgin. There does however appear to be distinct ethnic patterns in migration, which is why this paper focuses on the migrations of the Eastern Ancestral Pueblo (e.g., Chaco and Mesa Verde) who arguably have the most extensive and disruptive migrations. Among the Western Ancestral Pueblo, the Virgin Branch differs from the other Ancestral Pueblo significantly in terms of culture, architecture, exchange, and migration. The Kayenta on the other hand are the Western group that most closely resembles the Eastern Ancestral Pueblo, but the most extensive migrations are later in time when they are interacting with the Salado and Mogollon (e.g., Grasshopper Pueblo). Also the movements of people into new areas seem to have a different impact than what we will see with the Eastern Ancestral Pueblo (Lowell 2010; Riggs 2005) with the exception of Point of Pines (Stone 2003). Furthermore, Catherine Cameron (1999) suggests that the migration patterns between the Western Pueblo and Eastern Pueblo were very different in terms of the structure of the migrating groups that inhabited them. The Eastern Pueblos differ from those in the West in that there appears to be more organization in the planning of the architecture and site layout, suggesting the immigration involved larger more closely knit groups (Cameron 1999:233). The idea is that this planning may be a remnant of Chacoan identity that involves a form of

© Springer International Publishing AG 2017 71 R.P. Harrod, The Bioarchaeology of Social Control, Bioarchaeology and Social Theory, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-59516-0_5 72 5 Putting Chaco into Context hierarchical arrangement that revolved around the male members of the community. Given that patrilineal descent is still followed by the Eastern Ancestral Pueblo people today, it may be that the male focus did not completely end after Chaco.

A Tradition of Moving Across the Landscape

According to Wesley Bernardini (2005:35–36) “[p]rior to AD 1400 in the northern American Southwest, occupation of even very large sites for longer than two-to- three generations was the exception rather than the rule, and the vacating of large sites within a single generation was not uncommon (Hantman 1983; Lekson 1990).” The migration pattern of the Eastern Ancestral Pueblo is by no means simple. Between AD 700 and 1300, there were a series of large-scale migrations by the Ancestral Pueblo culture in the American Southwest. While there are likely many migrations that occur between sites, the focus in this research is not on these micro- migrations involving small groups of people. Instead, the intent is to explore major migration events, which are periods when there seems to be a lot of change occurring in the region that eventually results in a series of migrations. The first migration event will be referred to as aggregation, the second reorganization (Lekson and Cameron 1995), and the final abandonment.

Aggregation

The aggregation is a period that takes place during the Pueblo I (PI) and culminates in a migration that begins Pueblo II (PII) at Chaco Canyon. The event is characterized by the development of numerous large village sites like Alkalai Ridge and McPhee Village that some researchers argue were different ethnic groups possibly in competition with one another (Wilshusen 1999b; Wilshusen and Ortman 1999). Support for the notion of there being competition among the groups is provided by research at Animas-La Plata also known as the Sacred Ridge site where at least 33 people were massacred (Potter and Chuipka 2010; Stodder et al. 2010). At the end of PI, there is a sudden depopulation of the region. The reason for the depopulation of Mesa Verde and Totah is not certain, but it is typically associated with drought (Schlanger and Wilshusen 1993; Varien et al. 1996; Wilshusen 1999b). The result of the drought is the migration of people south to Chaco (Wilshusen 1999b; Wilshusen and Ortman 1999) and north up into the Uplands (Coffey 2006) where sites like Bluff House (AD 900– 1150) in Utah are established (Cameron 2008). Evidence for a Chaco Canyon migration comes from a second development during this period, which is the production of black-on-white pottery with geometric designs. This is still similar to what is found later among the aggregated sites in Chaco Canyon. A Tradition of Moving Across the Landscape 73

Reorganization

At around AD 1000 and continuing through to AD 1130, there is an explosion of the Chacoan people as evidenced by the construction of more Great Houses in the canyon, as well as the appearance of outliers throughout the San Juan Basin. Along with these outliers is the development of a complex but mysterious road system that does not seem to serve a function but instead connects some of the outliers and points to locations on the landscape that must have been important ideologically (Kantner and Kintigh 2006). The argument is that Chaco Canyon may have functioned as a regional center within the Ancestral Pueblo Southwest. Lekson (1999, 2015) argued that a consequence of Chaco being a regional center is that it may have had with some degree of social control that attempted to ameliorate and reduce interpersonal conflict in the region. This suppression of violence at Pueblo Bonito created a period of relative peace that has become known as “Pax Chaco” (Lekson 1992, 1999, 2002, 2015). The problem is that ongoing bioarchaeological research (Harrod and Martin in progress) has found evidence of interpersonal violence at Pueblo Bonito. Also, at AD 1060, the largest Great Kiva, Casa Rinconada, was built, which is important because large communal structures are typically constructed as a means of reducing interpersonal conflict within large aggregated societies (Braun and Plog 1982; Haas 1990). The reorganization event migration begins at around AD 1090 and ends between AD 1125 and 1150 where there is evidence that construction stopped and existing rooms were burned (i.e., ceremonially killed). It is entirely possible that these sites were intentionally abandoned by the Ancestral Pueblo culture (LeBlanc 1999; Lekson 1999, 2015; Lekson and Cameron 1995). The reason for leaving Chaco is similar to the reason given for why people left Mesa Verde at the end of PI, drought (Ahlstrom et al. 1995; Benson et al. 2007; Billman et al. 2000; Dean and Doyel 2006; Judge 1989; Lekson 1999, 2015; Sebastian 1992; Vivian 1990). According to precipitation models based on dendrochronology research by Benson et al. (2007), there were several series of wet and dry periods in Chaco Canyon. The wet periods were times of development, for example, in AD 1050 Classic Bonito great house is built and in AD 1100 there is McElmo Great House construction in the canyon. In contrast, the dry periods were characterized by a cessation in construction at Chaco and development of new Great Houses in regions. In AD 1068, Salmon Ruin construction begins and then construction intensifies at around AD 1088. In AD 1150 Chaco Canyon, the construction of great houses (Benson et al. 2007). Thus, the dry periods correlate with when people began to migrate away from the canyon. As people leave new pueblos are constructed in Totah, Mesa Verde, and Zuni (Duff and Schachner 2007; Duff and Wilshusen 2000; Lekson 1999, 2015; Lekson and Cameron 1995). In the Zuni region Chacoans began developing outlier communities like Village of the Great Kivas between AD 1050 and 1130 (Duff and Schachner 2007). These initial pueblos resemble the Great Houses of Chaco Canyon or its outliers. There was however a slight rejection of Chacoan ideology. There was a continued presence of the Chaco branch outside of Chaco evidenced by the coordinated 74 5 Putting Chaco into Context construction of linear plaza pueblos (Cameron 1999; Cordell 1998). The linear pueblos were designed to have accommodated large immigrating groups (i.e., supra-household). Other support for the continued presence of the Chacoans is found in the maize exchange system. Despite this retention of Chaco ideology, there is also evidence for the development of new identities. At the Zuni and late Mesa Verde sites (e.g., Sand Canyon Pueblo), for example, there is evidence that population organization shifted as they began to construct aggregated pueblos made up of distinct unit pueblos or households and corporate groups (Duff and Schachner 2007). Also found among the Zuni is evidence of a shift away from Chaco ideals in that the great houses were involved with trade outside of the Ancestral Pueblo (Mogollon ceramics) and there was a development of aggregated communities suggesting an increased importance placed on communal ideology (Duff and Schachner 2007). Given the relatively frequent migrations, rapid social and technological advances, and fluctuating settlement patterns, it is not possible to understand Chaco Canyon by only looking at those sites. Chaco Canyon was a product of long chronologies of change. In the following section, I will describe both the sites in the canyon and those that provide a spatial and temporal context for understanding what was happening during the late Pueblo I period through the early Pueblo III period.

A Temporal and Spatial Context

The archaeological sites in this study were selected because there were archaeological collections that had human skeletal remains available for analysis, but also because together they establish a spatial and temporal context for the Chaco Phenomenon. I will discuss the human skeletal remains and burial contexts for each of these sites in the following two chapters. Taken together all of these sites are essential for understanding the context of the San Juan Basin outside of Chaco Canyon during the rise, at the height, and the time just after the decline of Chaco proper (see Fig. 5.1). Spatial context was established by looking at three sites in Chaco Canyon and several outlying sites. The great houses outside of the canyon are known as outliers. Van Dyke (1999:475) describes the characteristics of a Chacoan outlier: “Each outlier contains, at minimum, a massive, large-roomed great house that usually exhibits multiple stories and core-and-veneer masonry. One or more great kivas, earthworks, and road segments may also be present.” Within Chaco Canyon there are three sites, Pueblo Bonito, Peñasco Blanco, and Pueblo del Arroyo. Pueblo Bonito and Peñasco Blanco were two of the earliest great houses (Windes and Ford 1996), and Pueblo del Arroyo was the last classic great house built in Chaco Canyon (Wills 2009; Windes 2010), so these three sites provide a fairly extensive record for the occupation of Chaco Canyon. Pueblo Bonito was important because it was arguably one of the most impressive sites in North America. This was reflected in the fact that the pueblo is large with A Temporal and Spatial Context 75

Fig. 5.1 Map of the Ancestral Pueblo sites. These sites were where human skeletal remains used in the bioarchaeological analysis of the Chaco Phenomenon (Base map created by Margan Grover, 2016; Source: Esri, USGS, NOAA) approximately 650–700 rooms, it has been estimated to be four to five stories high, and it was constructed with a cosmological orientation. (Lekson 2007; Sofaer 1997, 2007). Additionally, this site possesses two of the most elaborate burials in the Greater Southwest (discussed in detail in Chap. 5). Construction at this site began at around AD 860 (Lekson et al. 2006; Windes 2003; Windes and Ford 1996) with final construction at around AD 1085 (Lekson et al. 2006; Wills 2009). Traditionally, it is argued that Pueblo Bonito and the rest of the canyon were no longer used after AD 1150. However, recent work argues that Chaco Canyon was not completely 76 5 Putting Chaco into Context

“abandoned,” as there is evidence that there were still great houses under construction during the McElmo phase when there is a shift in both architectural and ceramic style around the mid-AD 1100s (Wills 2009). Based on the stark differences in between the Classic and McElmo period architecture, Wills (2009) suggests the cessation of building at Pueblo Bonito may represent that the first Chaco system failed and a second system was established at different great houses as a new cultural group migrated in. Peñasco Blanco was one of three great houses built before the development of the Chaco Phenomenon. The site is important because it is one of the first three great houses built in Chaco Canyon, and it may have served a defensive function. Peñasco Blanco is thought to have been a defensive structure because of its seemingly strategic location on the western side of the canyon (Drexler 2004:49; Mills 2002:75). Pueblo del Arroyo was one of the latest Classic Period great house structures built in Chaco Canyon (Wills 2009; Windes 2010). However, according to Judd (1959:176), there were two distinct habitation events at Pueblo del Arroyo, with the later one associated with migrants from northern San Juan. This perspective was echoed by archaeological reconstructions of this site (Wills 2009). As mentioned in Chap. 3, this site is especially interesting because it links Chaco Canyon with Aztec Ruins in terms of architecture with the development of the tri-wall structures (Van Dyke 2009:231–232). Beyond Chaco Canyon, the outlier sites of Kin Bineola and the smaller Wingate sites provide a partial picture of the influence of Chaco Canyon on the rest of the San Juan Basin. The Wingate sites were constructed and likely inhabited from Pueblo I through the late Pueblo II period, which was roughly the same general time span as Pueblo Bonito. Kin Bineola or Kin Binaiola (Pepper 1920:385), Kinbinailoli Valley, or Kimmenioli (Marden 2011:106) is approximately 11 miles southwest of Pueblo Bonito, based on geospatial mapping with Google Earth. It is among the largest of the Chaco outliers, second only to Aztec Ruins (Lekson 2007:38). This pueblo was “four stories with 10 circular kivas, two plazas, and extensive trash” (Bannister et al. 1970:20). This site, like Peñasco Blanco, is suggested to be defensive as well. This site may have been established outside of Chaco Canyon in order to serve as a gateway, preventing access from the south (Judge 1989; Marshall et al. 1979; Powers et al. 1983). The Wingate sites are a collection of small pueblos in the Red Mesa Valley that Gladwin (1945:5–6) argued were an outlying branch of the Chacoan Ancestral Pueblo. Gladwin dated the site to three periods, the Kiatuthlanna phase, Red Mesa phase, and Wingate phase. More recent excavations at the Andrews Community in the Red Mesa Valley by Ruth Van Dyke (1997) and the Pueblo Bonito provide date ranges for each of these phases: Kiatuthlanna Black-on-white (AD 800–900 or Pueblo I), Red Mesa Black-on-white (AD 900–1050 or early Pueblo II), and the Wingate Black-on-red (AD 1050–1200 or late Pueblo II) (Van Dyke 1997:144). These dates were reaffirmed for the most part by analysis of tree-ring dates from wood at some of these sites (Bannister et al. 1970:26–29). The broad date range of A Temporal and Spatial Context 77 this site may be important because it is possible that these smaller sites represented a local population that served as a satellite community when the great house Fort Wingate Ruin was constructed according to Lentz and Bullock (2000:7): Interaction between the local population of the valley of the South Fork of the Puerco River and the elements of the Chaco phenomenon occurred during the Pueblo II period. Construction of the Chacoan outlier known as Fort Wingate Ruin (LA 2690, NMQ 29122) occurred during the late Pueblo II period (Peckham 1958:161–163). This site may have been built over an existing Pueblo I structure (Peckham 1958:163), presumably as part of the Chacoan expansion taking place within the San Juan Basin at that time. (Vivian 1990) Gladwin (1945) referred to these sites as Coolidge Village because of their prox- imity to modern-day Coolidge, New Mexico. The floor of the valley is pock-marked with houses and villages which can be classified in either the Red Mesa or Wingate Phases. A continuous evolution from early Red Mesa to late Wingate could undoubtedly be shown, and a good example of such evolution may be found in the village of ten isolated units which are distributed along the rim of a low plateau immediately north of Craft del Navajo, at Coolidge, New Mexico. (Gladwin 1945:49) He argued that the sequential habitation of these sites likely represented a small number of families who were periodically moving to new structures. Recent analysis of ceramics at mounds slightly south of Pueblo Bonito in Chaco Canyon, Patricia Crown (2016) found Wingate Black-on-red ceramics that varied by technology and style enough to suggest that they were being brought to Pueblo Bonito from multiple sources, which she interprets as evidence of exchange with multiple villages (Crown 2016:120). Similarly, looking at White Ware ceramics Sandra Arazi- Coambs (2016:70) found that 4.69% of the pieces recovered from the Pueblo Bonito mounds were also from sites like the Wingate sites discussed evidenced by Kiatuthlanna (or “kiatuthlana”) Black-on-white and Red Mesa Black-on-white ceramics. The sites in the La Plata River region were included because they were an earlier occupation in the region. These sites developed during the late Basketmaker III through Pueblo I, with some sites that were possibly early Pueblo II. The La Plata sites provided a burial profile for the San Juan region that predated or represented the earliest period of the Chaco Phenomenon. Aztec Ruins was considered because it was an early to mid Pueblo III site and is linked to Chaco Canyon by some researchers (Lekson 1999, 2015; Van Dyke 2009), and it provides a reference for what happened during the final years of the Chaco Phenomenon just before it declined. The La Plata region consists of a collection of sites that have been dated to the Pueblo I period or Basketmaker III-Pueblo I transition. In his original notes Morris (1939) dates the sites to an earlier period; however, recent radiocarbon dating of the burials themselves (Coltrain et al. 2006) indicates that most of the La Plata region dates to the Basketmaker III-Pueblo I transition, suggesting that the burials are not as old as previously believed. Archaeological examinations of the cultural and architectural material also suggest that these sites are more likely to represent Pueblo I sites (Wilshusen 1999a:172). The importance of these sites is that they provide a pre-Chaco Canyon context for the San Juan Basin. 78 5 Putting Chaco into Context

As mentioned in Chap. 4, Aztec Ruins is argued to have been a second regional center because it is a very large post-Chaco great house. In fact, it is the largest site included as one of the Chaco outliers (Brown et al. 2008:235). Aztec Ruins actually consists of three independent pueblos: West Ruin or Aztec West, East Ruin or Aztec East, and North Ruin or Aztec North (see Fig. 4.3). West Ruin was the focus of this study because it was from this pueblo that Morris recovered burials. Separated by a tri-wall structure is East Ruin, which is approximately the same size as West Ruin (Thybony 1992:8). Then slightly to the north of these two sites is North Ruin, which has about 100 rooms (Brown and Nickels 2003; Okun 2011) and is made out of adobe instead of sandstone (Van Dyke 2008:343) According to Brown et al. (2008:246), Aztec North was the first great house built in the area. Unfortunately, there have been no excavations conducted at North Ruin and very little research at East Ruin, so the focus of this project is West Ruin.

References

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Lekson, S. H., Windes, T. C., & McKenna, P. J. (2006). Architecture. In S. H. Lekson (Ed.), The Archaeology of Chaco Canyon: An eleventh century pueblo regional center (pp. 67–116). Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. Lentz, S. C., & Bullock, P. Y. (2000). Data recovery at LA 2690 (NMQ 29122), Fort Wingate Ruin. Santa Fe: Archaeology Notes No. 275, Museum of New Mexico, Office of Archaeological Studies. Lowell, J. C. (2010). Survival strategies of gender-imbalanced migrant households in the grasshopper region of Arizona. In B. J. Roth (Ed.), Engendering households in the prehistoric southwest. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Marden, K. (2011). Taphonomy, paleopathology and mortuary variability in Chaco Canyon: Using bioarchaeological and forensic methods to understand ancient cultural practices. (Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation), Tulane University, New Orleans. Marshall, M. P., Stein, J. R., Loose, R. W., & Novotny, J. E. (1979). Anasazi communities of the San Juan Basin. Santa Fe: Public Service company of New Mexico, Albuquerque/New Mexico Historic Preservation Bureau. Mills, B. J. (2002). Recent research on Chaco: Changing views on economy, ritual, and society. Journal of Archaeological Research, 10(1), 65–117. Morris, E. H. (1939). Archaeological studies in the La Plata District, Southwestern Colorado and Northwestern New Mexico. D.C.: Washington. Okun, A. (2011). Archaeological survey for a proposed pedestrian bridge and trail, Aztec, San Juan County, New Mexico. InAlbuquerque: Parametrix Report PMX-2011-5. Prepared for: HDR Engineering. Peckham, S. (1958). Salvage archaeology in New Mexico, 1957-58: A partial report. El Palacio, 65(5), 161–168. Pepper, G. H. (1920). Pueblo Bonito. New York: Anthropological Papers, No. 27, American Museum of Natural History. Potter, J. M., & Chuipka, J. P. (2010). Perimortem mutilation of human remains in an early village in the American Southwest: A case for ethnic violence. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology, 29(4), 507–523. Powers, R. P., Gillespie, W. B., & Lekson, S. H. (1983). The outlier survey: A regional view of settlement in the San Juan Basin Reports of the Chaco Center, No. 3. Albuquerque: Division of Cultural Research, National Park Service. Riggs, C. R. (2005). Late Ancestral Pueblo or Mogollon Pueblo? An architectural perspective on identity. Kiva, 70, 323–348. Schlanger, S. H., & Wilshusen, R. H. (1993). Local abandonments and regional conditions in the North American Southwest. In C. M. Cameron & S. A. Tomka (Eds.), Abandonment of settlements and regions: Ethnoarchaeological and archaeological approaches. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sebastian, L. (1992). The Chaco Anasazi: Sociopolitical evolution in the prehistoric Southwest. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sofaer, A. (1997). The primary architecture of the Chacoan culture: A cosmological expression. In B. H. Morrow & Price V (Eds.), Anasazi architecture and American design (pp. 88–132). Albuquerque: University of New Mexico. Sofaer, A. (2007). The primary architecture of the Chacoan culture: A cosmological expression. In S. H. Lekson (Ed.), The architecture of Chaco Canyon, New Mexico (pp. 225–254). Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Stodder, A. L. W., Osterholtz, A. J., & Mowrer, K. (2010). The bioarchaeology of genocide: The mass grave at Sacred Ridge, site LP0. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 141(S50), 224. Stone, T. (2003). Social identity and ethnic interaction in the Western Pueblos of the American Southwest. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory, 10, 31–67. Thybony, S. (1992). Aztec Ruins National monument. Tucson: Western National Parks Association. References 81

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A number of different methods were used to reconstruct the bioarchaeological profile and the biocultural identity associated with the human skeletal remains in this region. This chapter discusses the bioarchaeological profile of the sites, the next chapter focuses on biocultural identity. Table 6.1 provides an outline of the methodology used to reconstruct these two concepts. As described in Chap. 5, the selection criteria for the human remains analyzed in this book was based on the nature of the sites. The goal is to cover a timespan that established a spatial and temporal context for Chaco Phenomenon.

Reconstructing a Bioarchaeological Profile

At the most basic level of analysis, a biological profile was established for each individual; however, given this is a bioarchaeological analysis, it necessitates the reconstruction of as much context within which the human remains were located as possible. Only through the analysis of the landscape, architecture, cultural remains, and mortuary practices is it possible to reconstruct the lives of the people the human remains represent. Looking at the archaeological picture helped to better understand the human remains in the context in which they were found. The archaeological contexts have been reconstructed utilizing available published literature, archival data, and site reports, while the population demographics were based on analysis of the human skeletal remains recovered at each site.

Site and Mortuary Context

The context of the remains was extrapolated by analysis of both the site layout and general mortuary pattern, which was derived by analysis of archaeological records, including field and repository notes for each site. The problem with this was that

© Springer International Publishing AG 2017 83 R.P. Harrod, The Bioarchaeology of Social Control, Bioarchaeology and Social Theory, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-59516-0_6 84 6 Putting the People Back into the Pueblos

Table 6.1 Methodology

Bioarchaeological Site and mortuary context ∙ Site location (spatial and temporal) profile ∙ Site complexity ∙ Burial position and location ∙ Grave goods (amount and type) Population demographics ∙ Age ∙ Sex Biocultural identity Dietary quality and access ∙ Stature ∙ Porotic hyperostosis/cribra orbitalia Activity differences ∙ Robusticity ∙ Entheseal development Pathological conditions ∙ Periosteal reactions ∙ Tuberculosis and trepanematosis Traumatic injuries ∙ Antemortem (nonlethal) trauma ∙ Perimortem (lethal) trauma

each site differed in what information was available. Since the burials were excavated in the late 1800s or early 1900s, a great deal of information was not available because the original excavators of the burials had very different theoretical and methodological approaches and, as a result, asked very different questions than modern archaeologists would. The burials chosen for analysis in this project came from a number of archaeological contexts that varied both spatially and temporally. The spatial context of the Chaco Phenomenon was established by analyzing several great house sites in Chaco Canyon as well as several outlier sites throughout the Ancestral Pueblo world. The temporal context of the Chaco Phenomenon involved analysis of burials from archaeological contexts that predated its development or gained prominence at its decline. Research indicates that during the Chaco Phenomenon, there were several regional centers of control established, first at Pueblo Bonito and then at Aztec Ruins. To establish a spatial context, burials from several sites in Chaco Canyon were included such as Peñasco Blanco and Pueblo del Arroyo. To understand the Chaco Phenomenon beyond the canyon, Kin Bineola and the Wingate sites were analyzed. Finally, the La Plata sites provide a picture of life in the San Juan Basin before the rise of the Chaco Phenomenon because they were occupied earlier in time.

Population Demographics

Reconstruction of demography is critical for any bioarchaeological project. The importance of understanding the demographic profile of a population is that it can reveal not only a lot about individuals recovered but also about the individuals who were not recovered (those missing from the burial sample). Reconstructing a Bioarchaeological Profile 85

The skeletal correlates of growth and development involved the determination of age at death and the estimation of sex for each set of remains using standard osteological techniques. The primary age classifications used to separate individuals in this project were adult and subadult. Assessing the age of adults is a challenging endeavor as the accuracy of age estimation decreases when the bones have stopped growing. Once growth has stopped, age estimates are based on the degeneration of the skeleton, which can be a somewhat subjective observation. While the primary factor that contributed to degenerative changes was the aging process, there was some variation in rate and expression depending on a number of other factors, such as activity, health, and environmental stressors (Franklin 2010; Minot 1907). Despite this limitation, assessing degenerative changes to the skeleton was still the most efficient means of determining age. There were many potential areas of the skeleton that could be used to estimate the age of adults, but the most accurate methods involved recording the breakdown of the articular surfaces of bones, especially the pubic synthesis (Brooks and Suchey 1990; Todd 1920) and auricular surface (Buckberry and Chamberlain 2002; Lovejoy et al. 1985) of the os pubis. A limitation of these methods is that require fairly complete postcranial remains, which was problematic given that many of the human skeletal remains recovered from each site is only represented by cranial remains. Two methods were utilized to assess the age of isolated crania. The first was the fusion of the suture of the various bones of the crania based on established methods (Buikstra and Ubelaker 1994; Mann et al. 1991; Meindl and Lovejoy 1985). The second method involved scoring wear or attrition on the teeth. Dental wear was important for estimating the age of the individual because it increased with age similar to degeneration of the auricular surfaces. Comparing patterns of wear on the different molars indicated differences in years of use as the molars erupt at varying rates during human growth and development. There were also limitations with using dental wear to age, as wear could and often did differ among individuals due to other factors unrelated to age. For example, various researchers have shown that subsistence and the way in which the food was processed both affected wear patterning (Eshed et al. 2006; Molnar 2011; Watson 2008). By using both cranial suture closure and dental wear, however, it was possible to compensate for many of these limitations and provide an accurate estimate of the individual’s age. The categories used to classify adults followed Tung (2007) with individuals being assigned to one of the three age classifications: late adolescent/young adult (individuals between 12–15 and 35), middle adult (individuals between 35 and 50), and old adult (individuals 50 and older). Estimating the age of subadult human remains was more accurate than estimation for adults because the bones were still growing. Additionally, during adulthood the degenerative changes were gradual and the individual went through stages of adulthood over longer periods of time. In contrast, changes among subadults were often very dramatic over a short period. For example, the brain and cranium grew exponentially from birth to twelve months (Greenberg and Greenberg 2001). The subdivisions of childhood were not necessarily agreed upon, and the stages 86 6 Putting the People Back into the Pueblos typically included the following: (1) infancy (1–36 months), (2) childhood (3–7 years), (3) juvenile (7–10 or 12), and (4) adolescence (10 or 12–20). However, for the purposes of this study, the age category of subadult was used to describe all individuals who had not yet reached the later stage of adolescence. Age estimation for subadults was estimated using the analysis of tooth formation and eruption, as well as the timing of growth and eventual fusion of cranial and postcranial skeletal elements. The development and eruption of dentition was arguably one of the most accurate methods of aging (Cardoso 2007; Hillson 1996). The value of dental development was that although there was variation in the stages, the variation was minimal. What little variation that did exist in the timing of this method was beyond the scope of bioarchaeology as clinical research suggested that it was related to the sex (Ogodescu et al. 2011) and genetics of the individual children (Gaethofs et al. 1999). Likewise, age estimation based on the rate of growth and timing of fusion is also an accurate and well-established method (Scheuer and Black 2000; Stevenson 1924). Subadult individuals in this study included all remains that could be classified as 12–15 years of age or younger based on methods described by Halcrow and Tayles (2008). Sex estimation methods were only discussed in relation to individuals identified as a late adolescent or older, as there have been no means of precisely estimating sex of subadults. Sex estimation of adults relied on evaluation of changes in the skeleton anatomy related to either shifting hormone profiles associated with the development of secondary sexual characteristics or changes to the pelvic girdle as a result of the reproduction ability of females. The primary changes related to reproduction that show up on the skeleton involve alterations of the morphology of the pelvis inlet to allow for the birthing of babies. These areas include three anatomical features on the pubis (Phenice 1969) and one on the ilium (White et al. 2012). While the pelvis is the most obvious change, this feature is not useful for sexing the isolated cranial remains. Sex estimation of the cranium relies on the analysis of differences in the size and shape or morphology of different regions of the cranium as well as the mandible (Buikstra and Ubelaker 1994).

Site Complexity and Demography

The data for this project were obtained from the analysis of skeletal collections that were housed at the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH), the National Museum of Natural History (NMNH), and The Peabody Museum at Harvard University. The samples utilized in this study were based solely on the remains that were complete enough for analysis and could be identified as individual burials. Thus, commingled remains in a poor state of preservation were often not included. The exceptions were the cases where previous researchers had reconstructed the burials Site Complexity and Demography 87

Table 6.2 Sites where burials were analyzed by sex and age category Southwest burial samples Site Female Male Indeterminate Subadult Pueblo Bonito Room 33 5 8 – – West 32 15 3 24 Aztec Ruins West Ruin 11 22 – 14 No Provenience 2 4 – 2 Peñasco Blanco 8 6 – – Pueblo del Arroyo 2 4 – 5 Kin Bineola 11 8 1 14 Wingate sites 11 5 – 3 La Plata sites 22 20 6 3 104 92 10 65 Sample total = 271 and identified individuals, which were then verified in this study (Marden2011 ; Pérez 2006, 2012). In a preliminary analysis of a portion of these data (Harrod 2012), the processed human remains from Peñasco Blanco were included, but they are no longer considered because they lack too many of the representative elements. The information was recorded by writing the information down on data collection sheets (see Appendix A) as well as entering the information into a computer in Microsoft Excel and in a Microsoft Access database. Measurements of the size and depth of cranial trauma as well as robusticity measures were taken with the Mitutoyo 500–173-20 Series Caliper utilizing metric units. There were a total of 271 individuals analyzed in this study (Tables 6.1 and 6.2). Within Chaco Canyon there are three sites: Pueblo Bonito, Peñasco Blanco, and Pueblo del Arroyo.

Pueblo Bonito

Pueblo Bonito, sometimes referred to as the “Gambler’s House” is among the most elaborate burials in the Greater Southwest during the Pueblo period. Different researchers from various parts of the site recovered three collections of human skeletal remains. However, only two were included in this study because of their acces- sibility, generally good preservation, and detailed field records. The burial collection not included was excavated from Pueblo Bonito by a team supported by Robert Peabody and led by Warren Moorehead in 1897. These remains were excavated from the northern side of the great house in Rooms 53 and 56. This collection was not included due to poor excavation techniques and the burials having been 88 6 Putting the People Back into the Pueblos

Fig. 6.1 Room 33 at Pueblo Bonito (Modified from Akins 1986( , p. 113)) commingled after collection. Additionally, different elements of the burials are curated in various repositories. See the work by Kerriann Marden (2011:92) for a discussion of these individuals. Room 33 (Fig. 6.1) is especially important despite the fact that it is a small, rather unexceptional room (Akins 1986). Located in the northwest section of Pueblo Bonito, the room is in one of the oldest sections of the site and contains the burial of two males with a wealth of grave goods that is suggestive of an elite burial. As a result, of these past findings and the fact that the burials interred with Room 33 are very different from those found in the rest of the site, the burials analyzed from Pueblo Bonito were separated into two subgroups, identified as Pueblo Bonito- Room 33 and Pueblo Bonito-West.

Pueblo Bonito-Room 33

The first burials analyzed for this study were recovered from Room 33. Technically, the burials associated with Room 33 were actually found in both Room 33 and Room 32. However, the burial recovered in Room 32 is a consequence of post- deposition processes according to recent taphonomic reconstruction by Marden (2011) and Marden et al. (2012). Marden (2011:255) suggests that the portion of this individual found in Room 32 most likely was originally interred in Room 33 but moved as a consequence of carnivore scavenging. The first excavations were performed by an American Museum of Natural History, called the Hyde Exploring Expedition, led by George Pepper between 1896 and 1899 (Pepper 1909, 1920). Room 33 is of particular interest because of the elaborate burials found within its Site Complexity and Demography 89 walls. The burials are unusual because of the manner in which the remains were interred and how the grave goods were distributed. The burial room consisted of two layers that were separated by a layer of soil and a wooden floor constructed of 1-foot wide boards that were between ¾ to 1 inch thick (Pepper 1909:221). On the top layer, there were originally twelve individuals interred and a number of grave goods. However, due to undetermined post- depositional taphonomic factors, the burials were commingled and could not be identified as individual burials or associated with any of the grave goods (Pepper 1909:209–210). The lower floor, which was covered by the wooden platform, included two sets of male remains entombed with a vast number of elaborate grave goods. Unlike the human remains interred in the lower layer, upper layer burials were highly commingled. Early arguments proposed that water runoff during heavy rain was the cause or that it had to do with it being looted by grave robbers. Other ideas suggest that the deposit was made during secondary burial. Marden (2011:367) argues that none of these explanations fit the taphonomic signatures associated with the mortuary context, and she suggests that the burials in the upper layer might indicate some sort of postmortem mortuary ritual where the bodies or parts of the bodies were rearranged. Stephen Plog and Carrie Heitman (Plog and Heitman 2010) have suggested that the bodies of the individuals in Room 33 were important for rituals based on carbon-14 dating that indicate that this room was used as a burial chamber over several generations. I will discuss this notion of ritual use of the bodies further in Chap. 8. This reuse is important because as Akins (1986:116) notes, Room 33 is very small, and it seems likely that multiple intrusions into a small room to bury or even simply lay the burials out would have resulted in a certain degree of commingling over time. Looking at Judd’s (1959) description of burials recovered from Rooms 12–24 in Pueblo del Arroyo, it may be that the disruption of the remains was a result of habitation patterns and not necessarily intentional. He describes these rooms primarily as storage rooms, but within these rooms were a number of burials. “Despite the presence of these burials shallowly covered with household rubbish and debris of reconstruction, families continued to occupy the rooms above” (Judd 1959:21). Thus, the differences between the lower and upper burials may be a product of mortuary reuse rather than cultural ideology. Regarding the burials included in this analysis, only 13 of the 16 individuals interred in Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 based on notes at AMNH were included. One of the adult burials was excluded because it was represented only by the postcranial remains of one of the twelve commingled burials in the upper layer of the room that were partially reconstructed by Marden (2011). Unfortunately, the skull associated with these remains was donated in 1914 to a researcher in South Africa (Marden 2011:143). The other two remains not included in this study were those of infant burials. According to Marden (2011:666), these infant burials are problematic because it has been suggested that they were not recovered from Room 33 as there is no note of them in Pepper’s notes or publications (Table 6.3). 90 6 Putting the People Back into the Pueblos

Table 6.3 The demographic Pueblo Bonito-Room 33 profile of Pueblo Bonito- Female Late adolescent/young adult 1 Room 33 Middle adult 3 Old adult 1 Male Late adolescent/young adult 2 Middle adult 4 Old adult 2 Sample total = 13

Fig. 6.2 Male individual interred in Room 330 noted for having filed teeth (Courtesy of the Division of Physical Anthropology, National Museum of Natural History)

The burial sample in this room is broken down by age and sex and consists of five females and eight males. One female and two males are late adolescent/young adults (12–15 to 35 years old), three females and four males that are middle adults (35–50 years old), and one female and two males that are old adults (50 years old or older). There are no subadults (under 12–15 years old).

Pueblo Bonito-West

A second collection of human remains from the western side of Pueblo Bonito was also analyzed. These burials were recovered from Room 320, Room 326, Room 329, and Room 330 and excavated by the Smithsonian and National Geographic team led by Neil Judd during a series of excavations between the years 1921 and 1927 (Judd 1954). Of particular interest is that according to Turner and Turner (1999:129), a male individual interred in one of the rooms on the west side, Room 330, was potentially one of the Pochteca traders from Mesoamerica based on culturally modified or filed dentition (see Fig. 6.2). Marden (2011:105) also reports that there were two subfloor burials recovered from these rooms (the exact room is not stated). The context of these burials is not described other than the individuals lacked the elaborate grave goods found among the subfloor burials interred in Room 33. Site Complexity and Demography 91

Table 6.4 The demographic Pueblo Bonito-West profile of Pueblo Female Late adolescent/young adult 10 Bonito-West Middle adult 19 Old adult 3 Male Late adolescent/young adult 8 Middle adult 6 Unknown 1 Indeterminate Adult 1 Late adolescent 2 Subadult 24 Sample total = 74

Of the remains Judd brought back to the National Museum of Natural History, there are 87 catalog entries representing sets of human remains. Of these entries, 75 burials were identified, but only 74 that could be identified as individual burials were analyzed in this study due to preservation and commingling issues (Table 6.4).

Peñasco Blanco

This is the site where the disarticulated human remains were analyzed by Ventura Pérez (2006, 2012). Given the preservation and incomplete nature of these remains, these remains were not included in this analysis. These remains were recovered by a Navajo workman named “Old Welo” (Wetherill 2003) also referred to as “Old Wello,” “Old Waylo,” or “Old Wylo” (Pérez 2006:153). These remains from Peñasco Blanco were noted in a prior analysis of this data (Harrod 2012) but were excluded from this analysis due to poor preservation. The other collection of human skeletal remains from this site was not described as well as those from Pueblo Bonito because of a lack of provenience. Either the records were lost or the burials were recovered from an undocumented excavation (Marden 2011; Pepper 1920). All that is known is that they seem to have been recovered from a mound outside of the great house, but it is not known whether there were grave goods or postcranial remains associated with these crania (Brand et al. 1937). At the site of Peñasco Blanco, there were two distinct sets of burials recovered during different excavations. The first set of human remains were those analyzed by Pérez (2006, 2012), while the second set of remains recovered from the site were the ones recovered from an undocumented excavation. Housed at AMNH this sample includes 14 individuals represented by crania only. This burial sample includes eight females, and six males (Table 6.5). 92 6 Putting the People Back into the Pueblos

Table 6.5 The demographic Peñasco Blanco profile of Peñasco Blanco Female Late adolescent/young adult 5 Middle adult 2 Unknown 1 Male Late adolescent/young adult 1 Middle adult 4 Unknown 1 Sample total = 14

Table 6.6 The demographic Pueblo del Arroyo profile of Pueblo del Arroyo Female Late adolescent/young adult 2 Male Late adolescent/young adult 2 Middle adult 2 Indeterminate Subadult 5 Sample total = 11

Pueblo del Arroyo

Pueblo del Arroyo was excavated by the Smithsonian and National Geographic team led by Judd between the years 1921 and 1927 (Judd 1954). According to Judd (1959:176), there were at least a dozen burials interred in unoccupied rooms and kivas at the site. These individuals were from the later habitation event that Akins (1986:105, 163) identifies as spanning both the McElmo period (Late Pueblo II) and possibly the Mesa Verde period (Early Pueblo III). Some prior research was conducted on these remains (Akins 1986; Greene 2011; Reed 1962), but it either focused on specific elements of the remains, a single individual, or utilized specialized methods (e.g., craniometric analysis). The goal of these studies was not on understanding the populations at Pueblo del Arroyo but using them as a control sample to understand the biological relationship between the burials at Pueblo Bonito and throughout the rest of the canyon. The burials at Pueblo del Arroyo are housed at NMNH, and they include 11 identifiable burials and several commingled remains. One burial (catalog# 327.130) that was analyzed as part of the Pueblo del Arroyo collection was problematic because it was not mentioned as part of the burial assemblage recovered from Pueblo Bonito or Pueblo del Arroyo by either Akins (1986:161–163) or Marden (2011:442–450). However, this burial was in the NMNH database as belonging to Pueblo del Arroyo, and as such it was included with the other remains recovered from this site (Table 6.6). Site Complexity and Demography 93

Outside of the canyon, the sites of Kin Bineola and the smaller Wingate sites are great because they are roughly contemporary with the sites within Chaco Canyon.

Kin Bineola

Ales Hrdlička recovered the burials analyzed from the site of Kin Bineola in 1899– 1990. The dates of the burials near Kin Bineola are unknown, so it is unclear exactly when during the Chaco Phenomenon the individuals were interred at the site. Although the date of the burial mound could not be confirmed, it is known that archaeologically the site has been identified as an outlier of Chaco Canyon built during the Pueblo II period (Marshall et al. 1979). According to Bannister et al. (1970:21), tree-ring analysis indicates that there were two periods of construction, AD 942–943 and AD 1111–1120. Additionally, work by Joan Coltrain et al. (2007) that analyzes isotopic and radiocarbon signatures obtained from one of the individuals from Kin Bineola (H15010 or H15014) indicates a date of AD 891–1147 with a 95% confidence interval within two standard deviations of the mean. This date range matches the time frame for some of the burials interred in Room 33 (Coltrain et al. 2007:306), which support the argument for using these burials as a representa- tion of a Chaco outlier during the height of the Chaco Phenomenon (Coltrain et al. 2007; Plog and Heitman 2010). Akins (1986:165) describes the remains as being recovered from stone cysts at a burial mound located about a third of a mile outside of the great house “Kin Neola,” but the name is a misspelling of Kin Bineola. The fact that the burials at Kin Bineola are outside of the great house in stone cysts does not mean that the individuals were not associated with the site. Research by Reed and Brewer (Reed and Brewer 1937) found that at Wupatki, a cyst used for a burial was made out of material taken from the Pueblo structure. Additionally, based on the description by the records at the AMNH, this was a large, somewhat complex burial site where all of the burials from the site including the children possess grave goods, with two grave goods per burial. Given that the date appears to match the range found with the burials in Room 33, these burials provide a good contrast to the hypothesized elite burials (Table 6.7).

Table 6.7 The demographic Kin Bineola profile of Kin Bineola Female Late adolescent/young adult 3 Middle adult 6 Unknown 2 Male Middle adult 4 Old adult 1 Unknown 3 Indeterminate Adult 1 Subadult 14 Sample total = 34 94 6 Putting the People Back into the Pueblos

Wingate Sites

The burials recovered from the Wingate sites include individuals from a number of sites in the Red Mesa Valley excavated and analyzed by Harold Gladwin (1945). The sites span a range of time and can be classified according to the following phases: (1) Kiatuthlanna Phase site, (2) Wingate Phase, and (3) Red Mesa Phase. The Kiatuthlanna Phase site of 11:56 is not well described by Gladwin (1945:42) but simply noted as a pit house structure. The burials associated with this site are not individually discussed but simply characterized according to the phase. Gladwin describes them as being located in shallow refuse mounds capped by stone slabs. The remains themselves were in the flexed position on their sides with pottery grave goods. While Gladwin discusses two Red Mesa Phase sites, only one of the sites with burials, Wingate 11:49, is described, but the details are sparse. The site consists of a structure made out of what looks like adobe and consists of three rooms (Gladwin 1945:50). However, he provides a description for all the burials found during this period. These burials have the longest description because unlike the preceding and later phases, there are some interesting burial contexts. For example, he notes that some of the burials were found with missing crania and one crania was found without an associated body (Gladwin 1945:58). Despite these unique burials, the mortuary context resembled the Kiatuthlanna Phase. The major difference was that there seemed to be more variation, with a small number of the burials missing the slab, a few of the bodies being interred in the semi-flexed position, and the possibility that some of the remains may have been covered in adobe. Similar to the Red Mesa Phase, in the Wingate Phase, only one of the two sites with burials was described very well. Wingate 11:20 was a seven-room pueblo, which was typical of the five other sites in this period (Gladwin 1945:67). This site is one of the two largest, with the other being Wingate 11:24, which is where the kiva was located. Gladwin does not describe Wingate 11:21, 11:22, or 11:23 but states that in comparison to sites 11:20 and 11:24, these two sites were smaller, less- defined sites that were constructed slightly earlier (Gladwin 1945:67). The burials during this phase were also interred in refuse mounds and in the flexed position. However, these burials were buried on top of stone slabs with slabs placed over them as well (Gladwin 1945:73). There is no mention of grave goods associated with the remains during this period. The human skeletal remains from the Wingate sites are housed at the Peabody Museum and include burials from sites 7:20, 11:20, 11:21, 11:22, 11:23, 11:47, 11:49, and 11:56. Site 7:20, because of insufficient context, was not included in this study. First, Gladwin did not record the site in his description of the Red Mesa Valley. Second, only an individual mandible represented the burial. However, at least one individual from the other sites was included (Table 6.8). Site Complexity and Demography 95

Table 6.8 The demographic Wingate sites profile of the Wingate sites Female Late adolescent/young adult 7 Middle adult 3 Old adult 1 Male Late adolescent/young adult 2 Middle adult 3 Indeterminate Subadult 3 Sample total = 19

As mentioned in Chap. 5, to understand what was happening before and after Chaco Canyon, an earlier group of sites in the La Plata River region and the later site of Aztec Ruins were included to provide a glimpse of life before the Chaco Phenomenon developed and around the time that it was beginning to decline but after Chaco proper had already lost influence.

La Plata Sites

The oldest sites analyzed from this region were the scattered La Plata sites excavated by Earl Morris in in the early 1900s. These sites span a number of phases in the Pecos Classification system: beginning with the Basketmaker III to Pueblo I transition (Site 19, Site 22, and Site 23) and moving through the Pueblo I period (Site 13 and Site 18). The sites were excavated over a number of years. Site 22 and Site 23 excavations took place in 1913 and then again in 1921, while only Site 23 was revisited in 1927. Site 18 and Site 19 were excavated in 1922, while Site 13 was excavated in 1925. The human remains housed at the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) were excavated in 1921 and 1927, but none of the records indicate the bodies came from the 1913 field season. Morris (1939:56–57) notes that 12 of the sets of human remains were recovered in 1921 from Site 22. The collection is represented by ten adults and two subadults. That same year 16 sets of human remains, including eight adults and eight subadults, were recovered from Site 21. At Site 19, which was excavated in 1922, 30 burials were recovered that included twenty-five adults and five subadults (Morris 1939:64). Morris (1939:73) notes that 16 sets of human remains were recovered from Site 23 in 1927, which included ten adults and six children. From the Pueblo I period, Site 13 included fourteen adults and two subadults recovered from refuse mounds along the pueblo (Morris 1939:66). At Site 18, 24 sets of human remains were recovered, along with several incomplete and isolated remains (Morris 1939:58). There were fourteen adults and ten subadults at this site. In addition to the human remains identified above, another thirty bodies from the Basketmaker III-Pueblo I transition were recovered during an excavation of Site 23 96 6 Putting the People Back into the Pueblos

Table 6.9 The demographic La Plata sites profile of the La Plata sites Female Late adolescent/young adult 8 Middle adult 12 Unknown 2 Male Late adolescent/young adult 8 Middle adult 9 Unknown 3 Indeterminate Subadult 3 Young adult 2 Unknown 4 Sample total = 51

and nearby sites by the American Museum of Natural History and the University of Colorado team under the direction of Shapiro (Morris 1939:75). Overall, Morris recovered over 114 sets of human remains from various La Plata sites, and of these remains, 81 were adults and 33 subadults. This does not include the incomplete and isolated human remains. In addition, Shapiro recovered another thirty individuals in this region. Of all of these remains however, only fifty-seven sets of human remains have catalog entries at AMNH and about half of these individuals are from the expedition by Shapiro. Of the human skeletal remains collected from La Plata sites by Morris and Shapiro, only fifty individuals were analyzed in this study (Table 6.9).

Aztec Ruins

There were two burial collections recovered from the site of Aztec Ruins, but only one of the two collections has a known mortuary context. Human remains at Aztec Ruins were also collected over several field seasons by different researchers. One collection of human skeletal remains has more well-documented mortuary context. These burials were excavated from West Ruin by Morris between 1916 and 1922 (Lister and Lister 1990). The collection is currently housed at the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH). While Morris states that 186 burials were excavated from the site, only about a third of these remains were curated at AMNH (Morris 1924:221). Morris recovered these remains from both intramural and extramural mortuary contexts and different time periods. Based on the ceramics, however, over 80% of the burials that were excavated were likely interred during what Morris calls the Mesa Verde period (Morris 1924:221). The Mesa Verde phase at Aztec was a period that Morris believes to date to around the late Pueblo III period (Brown et al. 2008:233). More recent tree-ring dates indicate that these burials were not likely interred during the late Pueblo III period because the major building events were during the Site Complexity and Demography 97 early and mid-1200s, and around this time, architectural analysis of the sites indicates that there was a shift away from West Ruin and an intensification and occupation at East Ruin (Brown et al. 2008:235; Lister and Lister 1990:190). The early building date and shift away from West Ruin seems to suggest that the burials were likely interred when the site was still actively inhabited (i.e., the early Pueblo III from the early to mid-1200s). The burials were interred in an array of diverse mortuary contexts, possessing a range of grave goods (Morris 1924; Stone 2000). However, one burial stands out, a male interred in Room 178 (Fig. 6.3). This middle-aged male is unique because the burial contained a range of impressive grave goods, including a shield (large basket), two stone axes, and a sword (possibly a digging stick). The presence of these grave goods resulted in this mortuary context being referred to as the “Warrior’s Grave” (Morris 1924:192). Lekson (1999, 2015) suggests that it was possible that this individual represented an elite burial at Aztec Ruins. Prior bioarchaeological analysis of the remains indicated that the individual was taller in stature than other age-matched males in the region. However, in a conference paper, I discussed how this individual does not appear to have any indications of trauma, which either means he was an extremely adept warrior or warfare was not the primary reason this individual held a higher status at Aztec Ruins. There may be a better descriptor needed for this individual than the “Warrior’s Grave” that Morris coined in 1924. There are no isotopic data from these remains currently available; however both isotopic and radiocarbon analysis are being performed by Stephen Plog (personal communication with Steve LeBlanc).

Fig. 6.3 Notes about the burials at Kin Bineola (Courtesy of the Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History) 98 6 Putting the People Back into the Pueblos

Table 6.10 The demographic Aztec Ruins-West Ruin profile of Aztec Ruins-West Female Late adolescent/young adult 7 Ruin Middle adult 3 Old adult 1 Male Late adolescent/young adult 8 Middle adult 9 Old adult 3 Unknown 2 Indeterminate Subadult 14 Sample total = 47

Table 6.11 The demographic profile of Aztec Ruins-No Provenience Aztec Ruins-No Provenience Female Late adolescent/young adult 2 Male Late adolescent/young adult 1 Middle adult 3 Indeterminate Subadult 2 Sample total = 8

The first set of human remains excavated by Morris and housed at AMNH has a total of 76 individual catalog entries. Of these 76 individuals however, only 47 were complete enough to be analyzed in this study (Table 6.10). The second collection of human skeletal remains analyzed in this study from Aztec Ruins is housed in the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology at Harvard University. Since the burial consists of only the cranium, it is likely that it was part of the early craniometric studies being performed by John Collins Warren. Provenience of this collection was not as well documented as the collection excavated by Morris. The skeletal remains at the Peabody Museum came from two sources according to the National NAGPRA program. First, there is a burial represented by a single cranium that was given to the Peabody Museum by the Warren Anatomical Museum in 1959. The second set of human remains from the Aztec Ruins collection with an unknown mortuary context included nine burials, but only eight were analyzed in this project because one set of postcranial remains was excluded (Table 6.11).

Summary

To reveal the lived experience of individuals in the past, it is necessary to correlate the frequency and distribution of skeletal markers that revealed signs of trauma and other indicators of stress with demographic, archaeological, and environmental reconstructions, and it is possible to reconstruct identity. The value of this project is References 99 that it systematically and scientifically integrates data derived from human remains with past archaeological reconstructions of the Chaco Phenomenon to identify signatures of complexity, conflict, and inequality in the ancient Puebloan world. In Chap. 8, I will discuss the changes in biological, cultural, and political identity and relations among the ancestral Pueblo from the beginning of the Chaco Phenomenon to the years when it ceased to be used provides an effective methodological approach for deciphering what function this system served. Building on the established baseline demography for the populations in the Chaco Phenomenon, the next chapter will discuss what we can learn from a more detailed analysis of the human skeletal remains by considering indicators of nutrition, activity, disease, and trauma. The goal is to reconstruct the lived experiences of the ancestral Pueblo people within a biocultural context. The value of this approach is that it provides a method for attempting to determine if there were elites in the San Juan Basin.

References

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Pérez, V. R. (2006). The politicization of the dead: An analysis of cutmark morphology and culturally modified human remains from La Plata and Peñasco Blanco (A.D. 900-1300). (Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation), University of Massachusetts Amherst, Amherst. Pérez, V. R. (2012). The politicization of the dead: Violence as performance, politics as usual. In D. L. Martin, R. P. Harrod, & P. V (Eds.), The bioarchaeology of violence. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. Phenice, T. W. (1969). A newly developed visual method of sexing the Os pubis. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 30(2), 297–301. Plog, S., & Heitman, C. (2010). Hierarchy and social inequality in the American Southwest, A.D. 800-1200. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 107(46), 19619–19626. Reed, E. K. (1962). Human skeletal material from site 59, Chaco Canyon National Monument. El Palacio, 69(4), 240–247. Reed, E. K., & Brewer, J., Jr. (1937). Special report: The excavation of room 7, Wupatki. Coolidge: National Park Service. Scheuer, L., & Black, S. M. (2000). Developmental Juvenile Osteology. San Diego: Elsevier Academic Press. Stevenson, P. H. (1924). Age order of epiphyseal Union in man. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 7(1), 53–93. Stone, P. K. (2000). Paleoobstetrics: Reproduction, workload, and mortality for Ancestral Pueblo women. (Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation), University of Massachusetts Amherst, Amherst. Todd, T. W. (1920). Age changes in the pubic bone. I. The male white pubis. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 3, 285–334. Tung, T. A. (2007). Trauma and violence in the Wari empire of the Peruvian Andes: Warfare, raids, and ritual fights.American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 133(3), 941–956. Turner, C. G., II, & Turner, J. A. (1999). Man corn: Cannibalism and violence in the prehistoric American Southwest. Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press. Watson, J. T. (2008). Changes in food processing and occlusal dental wear during the early agricultural period in Northwest Mexico. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 135, 92–99. Wetherill, M. (2003). Marietta Wetherill: Life with the Navajos in Chaco Canyon, reprint. In K. Gabriel (Ed.). Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. White, T. D., Folkens, P. A., & Black, M. T. (2012). Human osteology (third ed.). Burlington: Academic Press. Chapter 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco”

Analysis of human remains in a larger context provides a way to measure direct and indirect violence, social inequality, and disease in the past because trauma and nutritional inequality are branded on the bones. The result of identifying the lived experience, cultural setting, and overall health is that we can get a biocultural identity, which is based off the concept of an “osteobiography” developed by Frank Saul (1972, 1976). The concept of biocultural identity is used because the goal is to not to simply document general characteristics of the skeleton but to attempt to reconstruct the life history for each individual. By recording more than age and sex, we are able to read the “story” that is written on bones, which provides a record of the person’s life.

Reading the Bones

The objectives included reconstructing the biological and social identities of the individuals buried within the site of Pueblo Bonito as well as individuals buried at surrounding smaller sites. The importance of identity is to understand shifting patterns of interaction during the beginning of the building phase at Chaco Canyon, through the political and cultural height of activities, to the cessation of its use. The reconstruction of an individual’s identity in this study is based on both archaeological reconstructions of the site and mortuary context, as well as bioarchaeological and forensic assessment of the individual’s age at death, sex, and level of morbidity. Archaeological signatures of identity were separated into those that identified individuals and small social groups (i.e., kinship and corporate groups) and those that identified cultures (i.e., the Ancestral Pueblo). Biological identity was further enhanced by using new methods that examine patterns of muscularity, trauma, and indicators of stress on the body, which are important for understanding the presence of higher status or elite individuals in the canyon and the roles they may have played in shaping the sociopolitical ideology of the Chaco Phenomenon.

Biocultural Identity

The biocultural identity of an individual is reconstructed using multiple skeletal correlates, including markers of dietary quality and access (e.g., stature, porotic hyperostosis, and cribra orbitalia), activity (e.g., robusticity and entheses), other pathological conditions (osteoarthritis and syphilis), and evidence of traumatic injury resulting from both violence and accidental or occupational activities (e.g., cranial depression fractures and long bone fractures). These data were essential because they revealed differences between individuals at each site, which allowed for a more comprehensive understanding of how and why violence and social inequality, a ubiquitous yet poorly understood human behavior, existed in the Puebloan world.

Dietary Quality and Access

Nutritional status is based on variations in patterns of subadult growth and adult cranial and postcranial morphology. According to Martin et al. (2001:21), stature is useful in that it provides a method for assessing differential patterns in access to resources. Evidence suggests that subsistence pattern and the quantity and quality of food available to individuals in a population directly affect growth and development (Steckel 1995; Vercellotti et al. 2011; Watts 2011), and so height can be used as a proxy for understanding the quality and reliability of an individual’s diet (Auerbach 2011; Mummert et al. 2011; Steckel 2008). Malnutrition can stunt growth, while good nutrition allows people to approach their maximum potential height (Auerbach 2011; Gunnell et al. 2001; Lewis 2002; Masur 2009; Mummert et al. 2011; Pinhasi et al. 2011; Steckel 1995, 2008; Watts 2011). Looking at both adults and subadults provides different insight into how nutrition affects diet. First, among subadults, several studies have compared children in precontact societies with children living in the modern industrial world and found that the pattern of stature is not always simple. Martin et al. (2001:22) suggest that “diet, nutrition, health, and activity patterns all may have contributed to the poor growth of children in prehistory.” They cite Owsley and Jantz (1985), who looked at children from indigenous groups inhabiting the Plains region of North America, and found that these precontact children were rather close in stature to Euro-American children living in post-industrial America. This is very different from what Martin et al. (1991) found when they looked at the stature of precontact indigenous groups living in the Greater Southwest, who were much smaller. The differences between the Plains children and the Southwest children were a result of contrasting subsistence. The Plains diet was much more diverse and incorporated a greater range of meat and wild plants compared with the Southwest diet, which was much more dependent on fewer dietary resources and an especially high reliance on maize. Nutrition is critical because there are specific periods of bone development that are essential to making sure that the bones grow at the proper rate. For example, one Reading the Bones 105 especially important period in development is around the ages of 2–3 when children are weaning off their dependence on the mother’s breast milk and are becoming more involved in physical activities such as the gathering of subsistence resources. However, weaning is only one stage at which children’s growth can be hampered, as other bioarchaeological and ethnographic research has shown that children are at risk during various stages of growth and development (Baustian 2010; Johnston 1962; Little and Gray 1990; Maresh 1955). The value of analyzing adult stature is that unlike the stature of subadults, they are not in the process of growing. The result is that adults provide a picture of stature that is not complicated by the potential for catch-up growth. A child’s stature may not be representative of overall nutrition as it could be that they died during a particularly stressful period and had they lived they could have potentially improved nutrition and grown noticeably taller. When it comes to past societies, archaeological excavation of remains is limited, and when they do occur the sample sizes are typically small, and the demographics are skewed toward adult populations (Martin et al. 2001). However, since adult stature is arguably more representative of what an individual’s nutrition is like over their lifetime, the overrepresentation of adults is not necessarily bad. An additional concern is that stature is not just reflective of nutrition but also a product of other population specific factors such as genetics. To compensate for this limitation, one approach was to look at groups where there was evidence of cultural continuity by analyzing the variation within regions where there were populations that spanned several periods consecutively and that had an identifiable subsistence pattern (Harrod 2011; Masur 2009; Vercellotti et al. 2011; Watts 2011). For this study, stature was derived from femur length. The methods used to estimate stature were based on the formula developed by Genovés (1967) and revised by Del Angel and Cisneros (2004). These methods were used because they were developed from a sample of skeletal remains from Mexico and have been shown to be the best when analyzing material from the Southwest (Auerbach and Ruff 2010). Like changes in long bone length, pathological conditions like cribra orbitalia, porotic hyperostosis, and enamel hypoplasias are also useful because they are indicators of nutritional deficiency. Enamel hypoplasias are disruptions in tooth formation as a consequence of poor nutrition during the earliest stages of life (Armelagos et al. 2009; Goodman and Rose 1990, 1991). Dentition unlike bones does not get continually replaced throughout one’s lifetime (Hillson 2005; Schour and Massler 1944; Scott and Turner 1997). Enamel hypoplasias were not recorded on this collection because many of the teeth were missing. Cribra orbitalia, also known as usura orbitae, is the proliferation of bone at the top of the interior of the eye orbits, while porotic hyperostosis involves the development of porosity and thinning of the external surface of the cranial vault diploe (Aufderheide and Rodríguez-Martin 2003:348). Researchers tend to lump these two conditions together; however, Rothschild (2012:158) argues that these two conditions differ in occurrence both between and within populations. In fact, the two diseases can and often do have an inverse relationship (Rothschild et al. 2005). 106 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco”

However, since the focus of this study is just to note that there was stress within the population, they were recorded as a single phenomenon. A limitation associated with these conditions is that the etiology or cause is not well understood. There is a long history of research by both medical pathologists and paleopathologists dedicated to identifying and quantifying porotic hyperostosis and cribra orbitalia. Cribra orbitalia was first described by Welcker (1885, 1888), while porotic hyperostosis was first identified over 40 years earlier in 1844 by two independent researchers Rokitansky and Ducrest (Andersen and Andersen 1994:98; Forbes 1845:393). Despite over a century of study, the etiology of these pathological conditions remains highly debated. The most common and perhaps oldest nutritional deficiency argued to have caused both of these conditions is iron deficiency (Domínguez-Rodrigo et al. 2012; Hooton 1930; Oxenham and Cavill 2010). However, other causal factors that have traditionally been identified for cribra orbitalia and porotic hyperostosis are insufficient protein, vitamin C, vitamin A, or pantothenic acid (Steinbock 1976; Vercellotti et al. 2010; Whitaker 2011). Recent research by Walker et al. (2009:119) suggest that the conditions have a multifactorial cause that likely involves B12 deficiency during nursing and increased gastrointestinal infections around the time of weaning. However, the exact cause is not what is important. What matters is that the presence of these conditions on the skeletal remains indicates that the individual was suffering some sort of deficiency indicative of stress during childhood. These pathological conditions were recorded following diagnostic criteria outlined by Ortner (2003) and Aufderheide and Rodríguez-Martin (2003).

Activity Differences

Reconstructing activity in the past is a highly debated issue in the field of bioarchaeology (Jurmain et al. 2012). The problem is that the bone can only react in a finite number of ways, which means that aside from activity, there are other factors that can modify the morphology of bones. However, as Walker et al. (2012:66) pointed out, reconstructions of activity “continue to strengthen contextual approaches of human remains.” By providing a glimpse of a person’s lived experience in terms of the amount of activity they seem to have performed, these activity-related changes also reveal social and political relations within a particular culture that are apparent in the differences in activity level among various members of the society. The realization that one’s type and amount of activity, or lack thereof, affects their health has been a concern for medical professionals for over 2000 years, beginning with the Indian surgeon Sushruta in 650 BC and Hippocrates around 450 BC (Booth and Hargreaves 2011:1199). The most salient example of people’s concern with how activity affects the development and maintenance of a healthy body generally centers on the rise of obesity throughout the world over the past century. In the US, obesity is now at epidemic levels (Wang and Beydoun 2007). Although obesity may be the focus in many industrialized countries today, in the rest of the world and Reading the Bones 107 in the past, the effects of activity, not of too little activity but of too much, on one’s health were the problem. This chapter discusses two methods for reconstructing activity on human remains. Both involve the analysis of postcranial elements. The first method assesses the size and shape of the long bones (i.e., robusticity). The second method records the presence or absence of bone growth at muscle, tendon, and ligament attachment sites (i.e., musculoskeletal stress markers or MSMs). The measure of robusticity is essentially an estimate of the overall size and shape of the diaphysis of a long bone. Stock and Shaw (2007:412) state that size and shape are indications of the bone’s strength. The value of analyzing robusticity is that it measures the morphological change of specific areas of the long bone as a result of forces applied to the bone during loading or weight-bearing activities. This is important to the reconstruction of activity because differences in the level of robusticity can indicate the amount or duration of activities a person performed over a lifetime. However, the change in the bone’s size and shape can also simply reveal the effects of walking and conducting other movements throughout the day. The methodology for recording robusticity follows Bass (2005) and Buikstra and Ubelaker (1994). While this is a measure that can be taken on any number of long bones, for this study, it was only taken on a couple of elements that were well represented. These bones include the humerus in the upper extremities and the femur in the lower extremities. Musculoskeletal stress markers, referred to as entheses, are a relatively new method of assessing how much an individual uses various muscle groups throughout the course of a lifetime. Entheses are “sites of stress concentration at the region where tendons and ligaments attach to bone” (Benjamin et al. 2006:471). These areas of development on the bones are useful because they can indicate variations in activity level. When these attachment sites are put under too much stress through overuse, they develop enthesopathies. Traditionally, anthropologists have called the development of entheses musculoskeletal stress markers (MSM) or occupational stress markers (OSM) (Jurmain and Villotte 2010). Additionally, the study of these changes to the bone is not restricted to anthropology. Clinical medicine refers to these changes as pathological conditions known as musculoskeletal disorders (MSD) or cumulative trauma disorders (CTD), such as carpal tunnel syndrome, tendonitis, and bursitis (Melhorn et al. 2001:1802). Some researchers suggest that these changes cannot be used because the etiology is not understood and it may be multifactor, so any number of activities may be a factor, but it is only one of many that includes age, sex, and genetics (Jurmain 1999; Jurmain et al. 2012; Molnar 2006; Vercellotti et al. 2010; Weiss 2007). The idea is that what has been identified as entheseal development is just normal development and the result of the aging process or the daily use of the muscles (Steen and Lane 1998). Recent studies have found that age is the single most reliable indicator of entheseal development (Cardoso and Henderson 2010; Weiss 2003). These limitations can be controlled by shifting the way in which entheses or musculoskeletal stress markers (MSMs) are interpreted. In the past, these changes to the bone have been utilized as a means of identifying the types of activities people 108 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco” performed (Capasso et al. 1999; Hawkey and Merbs 1995; Merbs 1983). The problem is that current research suggests that the etiology behind the development of entheses is multifactorial (Jurmain 1999; Jurmain et al. 2012), and as such it cannot be correlated with any one particular activity. This realization has caused some bioarchaeologists to disregard the technique altogether and has challenged others to investigate what these changes can indicate. According to Robb (1998), the value of looking at entheses is that if analyzed in the context of the site, it can reveal a great deal about social relationships. By evaluating shifting patterns of change within specific cultures (Eshed et al.2004 ; Liverse et al. 2009; Robb 1998; Stefanović and Porčić 2013), the patterns that emerge are likely to reveal differences in type, rather than the duration, of the activity (Robb et al. 2001; Stefanović and Porčić 2013). Although the activity that people are performing may be difficult to impossible to determine, the fact that there are differences among the population and that some people are working harder or longer than others can reveal a lot about the sociopolitical nature of the society. Entheses are important because they can be useful in identifying the individuals who performed different kinds of activity in the society, a critical process when trying to reveal elites. This same model can be applied to the new ways that researchers are looking at trauma, nutritional changes, pathological conditions, isotopic analysis, and other techniques. As Walker et al. (2012:66) recently stated, “[I]nformed applications of MSMs continue to strengthen contextual approaches of human remains.” The methodology for recording entheses in this analysis was based on two recording systems. The first provided a ranking system for the degree of development of specific entheses as described by Mariotti et al. (2007). In order to compare individuals from multiple sites, the independent scores from entheses on each bone were combined to create an aggregated score. The second method, based on work by Capasso et al. (1999), involved simply indicating the presence or absence of a change in skeletal morphology, referred to here as musculoskeletal stress markers.

Other Pathological Conditions

To identify the quality of the overall health is not an easy task in bioarchaeology (Temple and Goodman 2014). The reality is that the best we can do is identify obvious cranial and postcranial pathological conditions. The pathological conditions of most interest are generalized physiological responses to stress, which can be seen on the bones. The problem is that the presence of pathological conditions may indicate that the individual was healthy enough to survive, while less healthy people may have died before any evidence showed up on the bones, a concept known as the osteological paradox (Wood et al. 1992; Wright and Yoder 2003). Pathological conditions and nutritional deficiencies were recorded following established paleopathological diagnostic criteria (see, e.g., Aufderheide and Rodríguez-Martin 2003; Ortner 2003; Steinbock 1976). Identifying Social Control on the Body 109

Traumatic Injuries

The purpose of analyzing trauma in this project was to identify patterns of injury. Patterns offer a means for exploring the ways that social control may have been used. Using a reconstruction of each individual’s biological identity, data on traumatic injuries were examined in conjunction with the cultural and sociopolitical context of each site. The goal was to map the trauma patterns of individuals at each burial site, specifically recording the distribution of antemortem (prior to death) injuries that have healed and perimortem (at or around the time of death) trauma that shows no signs of healing. Although perimortem trauma was evaluated, the focus was primarily on antemortem fractures, as these injuries are inflicted to punish or control the individual rather than to kill them. This project attempted to identify the cause of injury by differentiating accident- and occupation-related trauma from injuries that resulted from interpersonal violence. Recent forensic research correlates the location of trauma with the cause of injury (Guyomarc’h et al. 2010; Kremer et al. 2008; Kremer and Sauvageau 2009). The findings suggest that cranial trauma is more indicative of violence, while cranial trauma associated with postcranial trauma is more commonly related to accidental or occupational injuries, such as falls from heights.

Identifying Social Control on the Body

Having established the social and environmental context and explored what social control is, why it exists, and what human skeletal remains can reveal about the lived experience of past peoples, it is now possible to test what role social control played in this region during this period of occupation. The primary research question was: Do the archaeological and bioarchaeological profile of the burials indicate an elite class at the regional centers of Chaco Phenomenon that may have been instrumental in the establishment and maintenance of a system of social control? This question was designed to assess the validity of suggesting that Chaco Canyon, more specifically Pueblo Bonito, was at the center of a sphere of influence in the San Juan Basin. To examine this broad research question, several hypotheses were tested. The first hypothesis focused on identifying the presence or absence of elite or higher-status individuals during the Chaco Phenomenon. To address this, data were collected and analyzed that identified biological and cultural markers of higher or lower social status. H1: There is evidence of an elite class at Pueblo Bonito based on biological and cultural markers associated with the human skeletal remains differing from the markers found on individuals at the other sites. 110 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco”

H0: There is no evidence of an elite class at Pueblo Bonito based on biological and cultural markers associated with the human skeletal remains resembling the markers found on individuals at the other sites. The biological markers on the human remains used include differential patterns of trauma exposure, activity-related changes, and nutritionally related pathological conditions. The identification of social status was also informed by differences in taphonomic conditions, burial context, grave goods, and the treatment of the body. Directly related to the establishment of elites is the presence or absence of a lower-class group within the Chaco Phenomenon. H2: There is evidence of exceptionally low-status individuals, captives, or slaves based on markedly different biological and cultural markers associated with the human skeletal remains from all the sites. H0: There is no evidence of exceptionally low-status individuals, captives, or slaves based on relatively similar biological and cultural markers associated with the human skeletal remains from all the sites. Once again, data derived from human remains, as well as archaeological and mortuary context, were collected to provide an assessment of individuals of low status who worked harder and were more at risk for trauma and pathology. The importance of linking the elites at regional centers with non-elites and subordinates at the outlying sites is that both aid in understanding the role of subordination and use or suppression of violence in maintaining the social order. The final hypothesis tested whether or not the argument by Lekson (1992) and LeBlanc (1999) that there was a period of relative peace during the Chaco Phenomenon is valid. They suggest that at the height of Chaco Canyon as a political center, there is a drastic decrease in violence creating what they have called Pax Chaco. Thus, one factor to consider is whether or not violence and conflict did decrease during this period by looking at the frequency of violence at the La Plata sites that predate the development of the Chaco Phenomenon and Aztec Ruins, which is prominent toward the end of the Chaco Phenomenon. H3: Early in the development and near the decline of the Chaco Phenomenon, there are higher rates of violence than during the prominence of Pueblo Bonito. H0: Early in the development and near the decline of the Chaco Phenomenon, there are no higher rates of violence than during the prominence of Pueblo Bonito. This was addressed using markers of violence, trauma, and interpersonal conflict on human remains and comparing these rates with other published research on earlier Pueblo I and later Pueblo III burials. The importance of identifying a change before and after the decline of these centers was to put the level of violence and social inequality into a broader temporal and regional context. To reveal the lived experience of individuals in the past, it is necessary to correlate the frequency and distribution of skeletal markers that revealed signs of trauma, other indicators of stress, and pathology in a the larger demographic, archaeological, and environmental context. These data were chosen to provide the Identifying Social Control on the Body 111 optimal data set for testing hypotheses about the role of Chaco Canyon in the Greater Southwest. The value of this project is that it systematically and scientifically integrates data derived from human remains with past archaeological reconstructions of the Chaco Phenomenon to identify signatures of complexity, conflict, and inequality in the ancient Puebloan world. While the prior analyses of the human skeletal remains clearly show violence was part of the ideology of this region through all periods, the bodies can help us determine if there was a shift in the type, frequency, and severity of violent encounters over time.

What the Body Reveals

Having established the methods needed to reconstruct biocultural identity, it is now possible to build on the established baseline demography for the populations in the Chaco Phenomenon (see Chap. 6). Variation in size among contemporary groups is almost completely dependent on the environmental conditions that affect an individual’s nutrition (Steckel 1995); thus, it is possible to discern long-term differences in diet based on their effect on skeletal morphology.

Dietary Access and Quality

Prior research that looked at the stature of these same individuals from Pueblo Bonito and Aztec Ruins found that there was no difference compared with individuals from Black Mesa, Canyon de Chelly, Canyon del Muerto, Mitten Rock, Grand Gulch, and La Plata (Stone 2000:97). However, a subsequent project by Martin and Stone (2003) that only compared the two subfloor burials in Room 33 at Pueblo Bonito and the large male burial in Room 178 at Aztec Ruins with males from other sites throughout the Four Corners area found that there was a difference in stature. The focus of their study was to determine if these individuals were taller than others buried in the Southwest, both temporally and spatially. A reanalysis and reinterpretation of the Room 33 individual (Burial H/3671) at 171.47 cm (5′7½”) and Room 178 individual (Burial 99/8070) at 172.15 cm (5′7¾”) suggest they were noticeably taller than average males at the various sites. The other individual from Room 33 (Burial H/3672) was not noticeably taller than other males, as the mean stature of nine sites had a range of 160.0–165.4 (5′3–5′5”). A limitation of both the Martin and Stone (2003) and the later one by myself and my colleagues (Harrod et al. 2012) studies, however, is that the stature measurements that these individuals were compared against only represent the mean, without any indication of the sample size, standard deviation of values away from the mean, and the range. The result is that this apparent difference cannot be proven statistically significant. 112 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco”

In this project, both stature and mean femur length were compared. Adult males and females from each site were analyzed, but, unfortunately, because of preservation and collection practices, Kin Bineola, Pueblo del Arroyo, and the Wingate sites could not be compared with the mean femur length from the other sites. The site designated Aztec Ruins-No Provenience also was not compared, but this is because it was represented by isolated crania only. There were 70 individuals analyzed and compared by femur length from sites that included Pueblo Bonito-Room 33, Pueblo Bonito-West, Aztec Ruins-West Ruin, and the La Plata sites. Of the 70 individuals, 34 were females and 36 were males. When the two Pueblo Bonito sites are evaluated against Aztec Ruins, the results indicate that there are differences, with both Pueblo Bonito sites having a higher average mean femur length than the other sites. Comparison of females from the sites indicated that there was a statistically significant difference between women at Pueblo Bonito-West and Aztec Ruins-West Ruin (p = 0.0206, Mann-Whitney, two-tailed U test), but differences between Pueblo Bonito-Room 33 and Aztec Ruins-West Ruin were only borderline significant, with Pueblo Bonito-Room 33 women having longer femora (p = 0.0571, Mann-Whitney, two-tailed U test). Similarly, only the women from Pueblo Bonito- West had statistically longer femora when compared with the women at the La Plata sites (p = 0.0152, Mann-Whitney, two-tailed U test). Comparison of the males at the sites indicated that there were no significant differences between the two Pueblo Bonito sites and Aztec Ruins in terms of mean femur length. However, males from both Pueblo Bonito sites were statistically longer than the femora of the males at the La Plata sites (Pueblo Bonito-West and the La Plata sites, p = 0.0043, Mann-Whitney, two-tailed U test; Pueblo Bonito-Room 33 and the La Plata sites, p = 0.0026, Mann-Whitney, two-tailed U test). The next step was to analyze indicators of health by analyzing the presence or absence of cribra orbitalia and porotic hyperostosis. These changes to the bone are critical to understand because they indicate either a nutritional or an anemic deficiency during the earliest years of life (Walker et al. 2009:111). Analysis of nutritional stress among both adults and subadults suggested that stress and resulting health issues were a concern for all individuals, including the burials from Pueblo Bonito, but who was affected at each site varied noticeably. Looking at the individuals from all of the sites demonstrated that of those 249 individuals that could be assessed for cribra orbitalia and porotic hyperostosis, 188 were adults and 65 were subadults. Of the adult individuals, 71 (37.8%) had evidence of some form of lesion, while only 27 of the subadults (41.5%) presented evidence of the pathological condition. To determine if this difference was significant, statistical analysis using a Fisher’s exact test was conducted. The difference between the adults and subadults was not significant (p = 0.768, Fisher’s exact, two-tailed test). The adults were then analyzed by sex, which indicated that 33/101 (32.7%) of females and 38/85 (44.71%) of males had porotic hyperostosis. There appears to be a difference between males and females in this study sample; however, this is not a statistically significant difference (p = 0.098, Fisher’s exact, two-tailed test). Identifying Social Control on the Body 113

Finally, the porotic hyperostosis recorded on burials from Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 only has very slight evidence of porosity on the parietals. In fact, the expression is so slight that it was not recorded by Marden (2011:213); however, since the porosity was present and along the suture on both parietals, it was recorded in this study as slight (more accurately very slight).

Differential Patterns of Activity

Bones can provide a means of identifying differences in habitual activity in the past. When these markers of activity are considered with other skeletal indicators, such as nutrition and disease, they can reveal a great deal about the individual’s identity and status. Additionally, changes associated with activity can also better inform us about other aspects of the person’s life that would not otherwise be preserved on the bones, such as their overall health. As mentioned above, the two changes to the bone that are useful for understanding activity are robusticity and entheses.

Robusticity

Recent research on a medieval population in Italy has suggested that identifying variations in body size and proportion can help reveal status differences within a population (Sparacello et al. 2011). The humerus is important because it can reveal repetitive or strenuous use of the arms, while the femur is influenced by both loco- motion and weight-bearing activities that can reveal patterns of walking great distances or navigating over rugged terrain (Ruff 2008). A comparison of robusticity indices of the humerus and femur was only possible with individuals from Pueblo Bonito and Aztec Ruins because of preservation issues and collection practices in the past. In total, robusticity of the humerus could be obtained from 59 individuals, while 66 individuals had the necessary anatomical elements for recording the robusticity of the femur. Of the 59 individuals utilized for the humerus, 29 were female and 30 were male. Likewise, of the 66 individuals utilized for the humerus, 34 were female and 32 were male. Therefore, for both the humerus and femur measure, there were approximately an equal number of both sexes represented. Unfortunately, the repre- sentation of sites was not as good as most of them had no individuals or relatively few that could be measured. The most pronounced observable difference in the mean robusticity index among the samples was in humeral robusticity among females and femur robusticity among males. In terms of the robusticity of the humerus among females at Pueblo Bonito, they were the least robust with a mean index of 18.03. In contrast, the males at Pueblo Bonito had the most robust femur measures with a mean index of 12.35. To determine if the morphological variation found among the individuals from Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 differed significantly from the other sites, aMann- Whitney 114 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco”

U test for significance was utilized. Due to a lack of robusticity measures from a sufficient number of individual at other sites, the robusticity scores of individuals from Room 33 were only compared against the other individuals interred in the rest of Pueblo Bonito and the other regional center, Aztec Ruins, using burials from West Ruin. There was a significant difference between Room 33 and the rest of Pueblo Bonito (p = 0.029, Mann-Whitney, two-tailed U test). However, a comparison of Pueblo Bonito-Room 33 and Pueblo Bonito-West values found no significant difference, although the difference between Aztec Ruins and Room 33 was approaching significant p( = 0.051, Mann-Whitney, two-tailed U test). This provided some support that the individuals in Room 33 were different from individuals in other parts of the Chaco Phenomenon. Looking at the robusticity of the humerus among the females, there was also a significant difference between Aztec Ruins and Pueblo Bonito-West (p = 0.032, Mann-Whitney, two-tailed U test). Unfortunately, comparison of humeral robusticity was not possible among the females from Room 33 since the burials above the two subfloor males were commingled and the bones could not be associated with any particular individual. However, Martin and Stone (2003), looking at general size and shape of the humerus from Room 33, noted that those humeri that seemed to fall in the range of female (based on the metric dimensions of the humeral head after Martin et al. 2001) were less developed than males.

Entheseal Development

The entheses most pertinent to this study were those that involved the major extremities, which are associated with carrying heavy loads and squatting. Skeletal changes in entheseal development related to habitual activity patterns were recorded by attachment sites on each set of human remains at the various sites that possessed two or more postcranial elements needed to record the areas of development. To compare the entheses by site, this study took the mean of the upper extremities and the lower extremities. Mean values were necessary as they make comparing the individuals from each site by sex and age category more manageable. The limitation of this approach is that it makes statistical comparison problematic. Unlike robusticity measures that rely on specific metric measures, entheseal development is much more subjective. Taking the mean of a subjective measure and presenting it as a quantitative measure is problematic. Instead, the data were presented and patterns were highlighted. Also, it is important to note that some of the samples are small, so there is a possibility that the patterning is also a product of sampling bias. First analysis of the upper extremities (i.e., humerus, radius, and ulna) indicated that there was an apparent difference among both females and males but the pattern differed according to site. Looking at the females, there is a noticeable difference between Kin Bineola and the rest of the sites. The problem is that this mean is only representative of a single individual, so it is possible that they are not typical of the other individuals at the site. In contrast, among the males, the pattern at Kin Bineola was not as noticeable. Instead, it was Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 that was the most Identifying Social Control on the Body 115 developed. The only other noticeable difference was at Aztec Ruins, where males and females were about equal. Analysis of the lower extremities (i.e., femur and tibia) indicated that there was an apparent difference among both females and males but the pattern differed according to site. The activity-related changes of the lower extremities suggest that there are some differences among the sites in terms of entheseal development. First, Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 once again had more developed entheses. However, the middle- adult females were comparable to the females at the La Plata sites and less developed than those at Pueblo del Arroyo. In contrast, the women at Pueblo Bonito-West had low expression of entheseal development regardless of age, while the males were less developed but followed the same general development pattern as the males in Room 33. In general, the males and females at Aztec Ruins had fairly low development of entheses. Finally, an interesting pattern was found at the Wingate and La Plata sites where young adult females had well-developed entheses, suggesting they were engaged in more or different activities at an early age. This is especially apparent when the females from these sites are compared with older males.

Other Pathological Conditions

Due to taphonomic changes and poor preservation as well as the relatively small amount of postcranial remains, pathological conditions, other than cribra orbitalia and porotic hyperostosis (discussed above), were difficult to systematically record. Periosteal reactions were noted, but no obvious pattern was present, and diagnostic pathological conditions (e.g., tuberculosis and treponematosis) were noted on a case-by-case basis. There is no clear pattern of chronic or widespread pathology in this region beyond the nutritional stress discussed above. However, there are genetic or con- genital and communicable diseases present in the region. For example, Don Ortner and Keriann Marden found a case of treponemal infection at Pueblo Bonito (Marden and Ortner 2011), and there is a second possible case in this collection of human remains from the nearby site of Peñasco Blanco.

Traumatic Injury

Trauma on the cranium is an especially useful indicator of violence because research shows that the head is a preferred target during violent altercations. The reason for this is that the head is not shielded or easy to protect, and as such it offers a large target for perpetrators who wish to effectively subdue a victim (Hadjizacharia et al. 2009; Shillingford 2001). Walker (1997:160) argues that cranial and facial areas are preferred targets because the morphology of the skin and the delicate nature of some of the bones make bleeding easier and more visible, a factor preferred by 116 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco”

Fig. 7.1 Hat brim line. Left: Trauma due to violence. Right: Trauma due to falls (Modified from (Kremer et al. 2008:717)) perpetrators, since the injury effectively marks a victim. Cranial trauma is typically more severe than postcranial trauma because a blow to the outside of the skull involves energy transfer to the inside of the skull that affects the brain. The energy can be so great that the brain is actually displaced in the direction of the force, which causes it to impact the opposite side of the cranial vault. This process is referred to as the contrecoup-coup phenomenon (Dawson et al. 1980; Drew and Drew 2004). The outcome of there being an impact on both sides of the brain is an increased risk of damage to the brain. Methods used in this study for identifying cranial trauma were based on recent forensic research that suggests there is patterning to cranial trauma related to violence. There were a number of criteria used to differentiate cranial trauma caused by violence and trauma that resulted from accidents. These included trauma above the hat brim line, multiple traumas on various regions of the cranium, and facial trauma (Brink 2009; Guyomarc'h et al. 2010; Hussain et al. 1994; Kremer et al. 2008; Kremer and Sauvageau 2009). The term “hat brim line” is used to describe the top of the cranium including the frontal, upper parietals, and upper portion of the occip- ital (Maxeiner and Ehrlich 2000). Kremer et al. (2008:717) provide an illustration detailing the approximate location of the hat brim line on the cranium (Fig. 7.1). What this image depicts are the results of a 5-year study of trauma utilizing autopsy records. The picture on the top shows where on the cranium an individual suffered trauma due to a fall, while the picture on the bottom shows the location of trauma related to violence. Postcranial injuries are another type of trauma that is often cited as evidence of violence. Fractures of the hands, ribs, and lower arms (Galloway 1999; Lovell 1997, 2008) have been shown to be injuries that can also result from accidental injury. Even one of the most cited injuries, “parry” fractures, which are fractures of the ulna that are thought to result from holding the arms in a defensive position to block a blow from an attacker, are problematic. Recent research by Judd (2008) shows that parry fractures of the lower arm may result from accidents too and that it requires radiological methods to differentiate possible etiology. Identifying Social Control on the Body 117

Additionally, a study looking at postcranial injuries such as neck fractures that are typically the result of accidents found that violence can also cause these injuries. In a study of a modern clinical population living in Mississippi, Ochs et al. (1996) found that spinal cord injuries were more common among victims of violence than among those who suffered a fall, but the rate was only slightly higher: 62/395 (12%) compared with 51/395 (9.9%). What is interesting about this study is that when the population was split according to what the authors identified as distinct ethnic groups, white and black, the rate of injury by violence and falls differed dramatically. Spine injuries resulting from falls was fairly consistent between the two ethnicities with 33/203 (10.1%) for individuals the authors identified as white and 17/188 (9.0%) for those individuals identified as black. The rate of violence-related neck injuries was drastically different, with 9/203 (2.8%) for white individuals and 53/188 (28.2%) for black individuals. Given Mississippi’s past, it is not surprising that violence would be higher among black individuals because of a long history of discrimination and sociopolitical inequality. The importance of this finding is that it supports the assertion that violence-related trauma is a good indicator of sociopolitical inequality, which is important for the identification of elites within a particular society. Individuals under the approximate age of weaning (i.e., approximately 5 and younger) were excluded from this study. Younger children were also excluded from the study because they were less likely to be involved in subsistence gathering and other activities that would put them at risk for injury (Bird and Bird 2000; Boyden and Levison 2000; Crittenden 2009; Hawkes et al. 1995). Furthermore, research has shown that there is little evidence of child abuse in the past that would have placed children at risk (Walker 1994). Finally, it is important to note that not all depressions on the cranium were recorded as trauma. Based on the methods described by Walker (1989:313), if the depression did not have well-defined borders or was surrounded by porosity indicative of porotic hyperostosis, then it was not recorded as a fracture (see Fig. 7.2 for an example of some of the antemortem cranial trauma recorded in this study). The identification of perimortem trauma in this study followed the methodology that began to develop in the late 1990s (Berryman and Symes 1998; Galloway 1999; Maples 1986; Sauer 1998; Ubelaker and Adams 1995) and has continued to be revised and improved by researchers merging bioarchaeology and forensics (Moraitis and Spiliopoulou 2006; Spencer 2012). One limitation with perimortem trauma is that it can represent an injury sustained in small-scale conflict but it is also likely to represent extraordinary or atypical events that were not representative of the normal pattern of interaction within the society. The best examples of this are the massacre events seen in the Pueblo I period (Osterholtz 2012; Potter and Chuipka 2010; Stodder et al. 2010) and the Pueblo III period (Billman et al. 2000; Kuckelman et al. 2002; Smith et al. 2009; White 1992). For an example of perimortem trauma recorded in this study, see Fig. 7.3. Overall, the patterns of trauma to the head and face among the samples indicated that nonlethal, and to a lesser extent lethal, trauma to the head was present among the Ancestral Pueblo during and after the height of the Chaco Phenomenon. However, the pattern of cranial trauma indicated there were differences between the sites. 118 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco”

Fig. 7.2 Antemortem cranial trauma. Left: Cranial depression fracture on burial 99/8075. Top right: Cranial depression fracture on burial H/15062. Bottom right: Cranial depression fracture on burial 99/7923 (Courtesy of the Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History. Modified from Harrod (2012:131))

Fig. 7.3 Perimortem cranial trauma. Left: Perimortem fracture on burial H/15064. Top right: Perimortem fracture on burial H/15062. Bottom right: Perimortem fracture on burial H/3672 (Courtesy of the Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History. Modified from Harrod (2012:131)) Identifying Social Control on the Body 119

Of the 252 individuals observed for cranial trauma, only 72 (28.6%) had at least one head injury. Next, this population was analyzed by adult and subadult categories. Of the 188 adults, 67 (35.6%) had trauma, while of the 64 subadults, only 5 (7.8%) had trauma. Analyzed by sex, the frequency of trauma among all the sites in the San Juan Basin was about equal in ratio among males and females, with 33/85 (38.8%) among males and 34/103 (33.0%) among females. Trauma among males in Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 is higher when compared with other males in Pueblo Bonito and the other Southwest sites. The rate of trauma was nearly double than that of some of the other sites, approximately 5/8 (62.5%) at Pueblo Bonito compared with between 20 and 40% at the other sites. This high level of violence seems to suggest that the males at Pueblo Bonito had a greater chance of incurring trauma. The frequency of trauma among males was the greatest between the two portions of the site of Pueblo Bonito. This difference was not statistically significant however p( = 0.071, Fisher’s exact, two-tailed test). In contrast, trauma among females showed a reverse pattern when Pueblo Bonito was compared with the other sites. Unlike males where the violence was the highest, females at Pueblo Bonito, both in Room 33 and the rooms on the west side of the great house, exhibited the lowest levels of violence in the region. Trauma among females at Pueblo Bonito-Room 33 was 1/5 (20.0%), Pueblo Bonito-West was 4/32 (12.5%), and Pueblo del Arroyo was 0/2 (0.0%). However, the difference between Pueblo Bonito-Room 33 and the highest frequency of trauma, 7/11 (63.6%) at Kin Bineola, was not significant, whereas the difference between Pueblo Bonito-West and Kin Bineola was (p = 0.002, Fisher’s exact, two-tailed test). The frequency of trauma at Pueblo Bonito-West was also significantly different from the frequency recorded among the females of the La Plata sites (p = 0.004, Fisher’s exact, two- tailed test). Finally, the analysis of perimortem trauma indicates that only 9 of the 252 individuals (3.6%) had suffered a potentially lethal injury to the head at or around the time of death. The rate of perimortem trauma is statistically different from the frequency of antemortem cranial trauma (p = 0.0001, Fisher’s exact, two-tailed test). The only perimortem trauma included in this study involved head injuries; however, other analysis has found postcranial perimortem trauma. At Pueblo Bonito-West, an individual had a projectile point lodged in one of the lumbar vertebra (Marden 2011:318). There is no evidence of this type of trauma in the Northern Burial cluster, which led Marden (2011) to suggest that there is no positively identifiable perimortem trauma in the northern burial cluster, which includes Room 33. “The damage that can be interpreted as probable or possible perimortem trauma is restricted to cranial fracture, with no perimortem fracture or cut marks observed among the postcranial remains” (Marden 2011:318). The problem with Marden’s (2011) argument is that perimortem trauma is not the result of one type of action but rather the outcome of a variety of behaviors. Thus, a projectile point in the bone does not necessarily represent the only true form of lethal violence. In fact, Cohen et al. (2012) found that most of lethal violence was the result of interpersonal conflict which typically involves blunt force trauma, not warfare where projectile points would be utilized. Suggesting that lethal violence 120 7 Reassessing “Pax Chaco” within the site of Pueblo Bonito in the form of a projectile point embedded in bone is the only valid form of lethal violence negates the fact that interpersonal violence within the group also occurred. Of the nine perimortem injuries, three crania from Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 (H/3661 H/3668, and H/3672), one from Kin Bineola (H/15062), and one from Aztec Ruins (99/8069) were noted to have severe perimortem fracturing indicative of a severe blow to the head. The individuals from Room 33 are especially interesting (H/3661 and H/3668, and H/3672) because they all have these severe panfacial fractures, and H/3668 appears to have a fracture that involved multiple facial bones, the cranial vault, and the mandible, known as a panfacial fracture (He et al. 2007:2459). While the mechanism that caused the perimortem injuries may not be completely identifiable, it is clear that something with a great deal of force smashed into his face at or around the time of death.

Summary

Analysis of biocultural identity of burials from the various sites provides support for the argument that there was something unique about Chaco Canyon. In the next chapter, I will offer some theories for what the data might be revealing about life for the Ancestral Pueblo during the Chaco Phenomenon.

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The last chapter compared human remains recovered from sites in the San Juan Basin before, during, and after the decline of the Chaco Phenomenon. The goal was to use information that could be gathered about the archaeological sites, mortuary context, and human remains of the Ancestral Puebloans themselves and to try to understand the nature of social control during the Chaco Phenomenon (AD 850–1300). Social control as discussed in Chap. 3 is not simply the establishment of order and management of individuals through lethal violence. Additionally, even nonlethal approaches can involve a level of coercion. Analysis of the bodies, archaeological material, and architecture from the San Juan Basin indicates that individuals who would be called high status or elites were present during the Chaco Phenomenon. Based on the various markers identified on the bones, however, despite a system of social control, there was still a certain level of violence. The most obvious example of elite individuals during the Chaco Phenomenon comes from the Room 33 burial site in Pueblo Bonito at the heart of the canyon. Over the last 100 years, there have been a number of theories about the burials in Room 33. Some of the major questions that researchers have asked include the following: (1) Were elite individuals buried in an elaborate mortuary context designed to represent their elevated social status (Lekson 2009)? (2) Do the individuals in this room represent secondary burials that were moved in an attempt to cement the validity of Pueblo Bonito as a regional center, as the bones of the ancestors possess power that the living can manipulate (Plog 2011; Plog and Heitman 2010)? (3) Do the individuals interred within this room, especially those with traumatic injuries, represent sacrificial victims who served as tribute (Turner and Turner 1999; Wilcox 2004)? Looked at together, the archaeological and the biological remains reveal a lot of information about the role of a site in the region and an individual in the society. A problem with this approach is that there are relatively few human skeletal remains in collections and they were collected from only a handful of the numerous sites in the San Juan Basin due to past collection practices and preservation issues. Despite the limited data available from the remains, because there were burials recovered

© Springer International Publishing AG 2017 127 R.P. Harrod, The Bioarchaeology of Social Control, Bioarchaeology and Social Theory, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-59516-0_8 128 8 The Role of Elites and Social Control from multiple contexts and through time, it is still possible to identify patterns that are indicative of social control. The patterning of nutrition, activity, disease, and trauma on the human remains, as well as differences in mortuary and archaeological context, were used to address whether or not there appears to be social control within the Chaco Phenomenon where some people prospered as elites and others were subordinate. Additionally, we will answer whether or not it is valid to suggest that at the height of this cultural complex there was a period of relative peace.

Evidence of an Elite Class

Over the past decade, there has been tremendous debate about the role of Chaco Canyon and the meaning of the burials recovered from its numerous sites. Interest has been paid primarily to the role of Pueblo Bonito and the burials of the two males interred in Room 33. On the one side are researchers who argue that these individuals were elite chiefs, great warriors, or even kings (Akins 1986; Lekson 2009). Yet, there are still researchers who argue that these burials are not as unusual as have been suggested and that do not represent people of great importance. Each of the great house pueblos that were analyzed in this study indicated that during the Chaco Phenomenon, there existed a complex social and political system or ideology. Shaul (2014:142) suggests that the presence of an elite class in the Chaco Phenomenon would have required the establishment of a “prestige code” or elite way of speaking. Noting that loan words among the Hopi and Zuni and research by Ortman (2012), he suggests that the language of the elites appears to have been Keresan (Shaul 2014:143). This elite language is important because the extant populations thought to be partly composed of descendants from Chaco Canyon all speak very different languages. For example, Hopi is one of over 40 different languages classified under the Uto-Aztecan family, which differs from all of the other languages associated with the Ancestral Pueblo (Wheeler and Whiteley 2015:115). According to Alfred Kroeber (1907:163) “. . . Hopi is the most specialized offshoot of the Shoshonean group.” He goes on to say that the language has been an isolate for a long time, which supports a deep history with a very different culture (i.e., the Pueblo) (Kroeber 1907:165). This is important because the ability to bring people who speak different languages, and therefore likely have unique cultural worldviews, together requires some sort of leadership. Social control had to have been an important part of the ideology that was used to encourage the building and maintenance of such a large public enterprise. The overall site itself revealed a lot about the worldview or ideology of the people. Research showed that ideology could be partially reconstructed by close examination of data derived from archaeological materials. Detailed reconstruction of the site and mortuary context and the analysis of markers of nutrition, activity, disease, and trauma make it is possible to detect the presence of elite individuals. These data were chosen to provide the optimal data set for testing hypotheses about the role of Chaco Canyon in the Greater Southwest. Evidence of an Elite Class 129

Archaeological and Mortuary Data

Before AD 925, burials tended to be interred in shallow rudimentary graves with few to no grave goods. This has led some researchers to suggest that during this early period, there was little evidence for hierarchy in the Southwest (Akins 2003; Akins and Schelberg 1984). Often these burials were located in midden or trash mounds. However, during the height of Pueblo Bonito and the Chaco Phenomenon, there was a shift in the mortuary context, with a seemingly more formal burial tradition developing at Pueblo Bonito. This is seen in the presence of more extended burials and more elaborate grave goods (Akins 2003:97). According to Neitzel (2000), the new mortuary context is indicative of the development of a stratified society and the presence of elite individuals. To further support the idea that there were elites in Room 33 that maintained order in the society, the bodies of these possible high-status individuals were compared to the rest of Pueblo Bonito and the other sites in the San Juan Basin. An interesting pattern emerged among the sites that though not statistically significant, some sites had higher percentages of males than females and other sites had higher percentages of females than males (Fig. 8.1). Looking at Fig. 8.1, the demographic profile of Pueblo Bonito’s two burial collections differs from the other sites, concerning the sex ratio. Another pattern that emerges from reconstructing the demography of these sites is the almost-complete absence of subadult burials in Pueblo Bonito-Room 33. Although there were two infant burials possibly associated with Room 33, children in general are simply not present. This pattern is not uncommon in the Southwest (Fig. 8.2).

Sex Ratio by Site Female Male 100% 90% 80% 70% 60% 50% 40% 30% 20% 10% 0%

PuebloArroyo del West Kin Bineola Aztec Ruins - La Plata sites PuebloRoom Bonito 33 - Pueblo Bonito - West Ruin Aztec Ruins - Wingate Sites Peñasco Blanco No Provenience

Fig. 8.1 Sex ratio by site 130 8 The Role of Elites and Social Control

Distribution of Age Groups by Site Adult Subadult

50 48

24 20 16 13 14 14 14

6 6 5 3 3 0 2 0 -

West PuebloArroyo del Kin Bineola Room 33 Aztec Ruins - Pueblo Bonito Pueblo Bonito - AztecWest Ruins Ruin - Wingate Sites La Plata sites No Provenience Peñasco Blanco

Fig. 8.2 Distribution of age groups by site

Overall, Fig. 8.2 shows a difference in the presence of subadults at each site. The distribution of sex and age lends support to showing the distinctive nature of this great house. While not statistically significant, there appears to be a pattern where some sites had higher percentages of males than females and other sites had higher percentages of females than males. There were more males 8/13 (61.5%) than females 5/13 (38.5%) interred at Room 33, and this pattern is present at Aztec Ruins and at the later Chaco Canyon great house, Pueblo del Arroyo. The sites that seem to have the most subadult burials are Pueblo Bonito-West, Aztec Ruins, Kin Bineola, and Pueblo del Arroyo. These sites are different from many of the other sites because the burials were recovered from an intramural context and from multiple rooms. If the ideology was the same but just moved to the north, then one would expect to see similar behavior and identity patterns at both sites. However, if it is merely a replication of certain aesthetic elements of the Chacoan culture, then there is no compelling reason that the skeletal correlates for behavior and identity would be the same. In terms of the archaeology, there are several items found in this context that have been identified as prestige items or at least rare artifacts due to the distance away from the site they were obtained from. However, given the difference in preservation and mortuary context between the top and bottom layer of human remains in the room, researchers often only discuss the two burials in the lower layer as elites (i.e., leaders, warriors, chiefs, or kings) (Akins 1986, 2003; Akins and Schelberg 1984; Lekson 1999, 2006; Palkovich 1984; Pepper 1909, 1920; Plog 2011; Van Dyke 2008). “Many scholars have noted the absence of rich burials in Chaco Canyon other than the two individuals buried beneath the floor of Room 33 at Pueblo Bonito. However, this observation fails to recognize the cultural significance of interring the 12 individuals above the floor in the same room in association with ancestors and cosmologically powerful materials and symbols” (Plog and Heitman 2010:19625). The two subfloor burials in Room 33 were interred with a Evidence of an Elite Class 131 large number of grave goods that included turquoise, flutes, ceramics, and vases filled with cacao or chocolate. “The large numbers of inalienable objects found at Chaco Canyon, where we have other lines of evidence for the presence of differences in prestige, argues for the importance of ritual in the construction of leadership during this important period” (Mills 2004:247). First, the vast amount of turquoise found with two burials in Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 is especially important. Researchers looking at the trade of turquoise have suggested it played a crucial role in the society (Hull et al. 2014; Mathien 2001; Snow 1973; Weigand et al. 1977). In fact, the only turquoise found at other sites in large quantities tends to be in Great Kivas, perhaps as an offering suggesting it was used in ritual and perhaps for aggrandizement (Mathien 2001). Peregrine (2001) suggests that the reason turquoise consumption becomes so concentrated at Chaco is the result of the development of lineage-based corporate groups. These lineage- based corporate groups would have been the foundation of a heterarchical system that was likely hierarchical in nature. There is additional support for the claim that there were these clan- or lineage- based groups in Chaco Canyon. One line of evidence is the flutes described and found with these same elite burials. Mathien (2001) argues that these flutes served a similar function as those that have been ethnographically documented among the Hopi and Zuni (e.g., Flute Clan). Associated with ritual ceremony, the flute is important not only as a status symbol but as a ritual object. Moreover, when excavating Room 38, Pepper (1909) recorded finding a large concentration of macaw remains beneath the floor, suggesting intentional interment as indicative of their ceremonial importance. Pepper (1909) offered further that there was a Zuni clan known as Mulakwe, or Macaw Clan. Thus, the macaw burials at Pueblo Bonito could signify the origins of, or at minimum, an ancestral group to the Mulakwe Clan. The importance of these systems of exchange resembling, if not giving rise to, the later Pueblo clan organizations, is that it illustrates the importance of a system of interactions between competing groups (i.e., heterarchy). “The large numbers of inalienable objects found at Chaco Canyon, where we have other lines of evidence for the presence of differences in prestige, argues for the importance of ritual in the construction of leadership during this important period” (Mills 2004:247).

Bioarchaeological Data

Prior research suggests that there were different lineage-based groups based on craniometric estimations of biodistance, as well as demographic differences in health and nutrition between burials from different areas within the Chaco Phenomenon (Akins 1986). Akins (1986) compared burials from different sections of Pueblo Bonito and found skeletal (e.g., stature and health) and archaeological (e.g., mortuary context) evidence to suggest that there were two distinct groups at Pueblo Bonito. The findings by Akins 1986( ) were supported by a later study by Schillaci et al. (2001) who were also looking at craniometrics. The importance of these 132 8 The Role of Elites and Social Control studies is that they found that the burials in the various rooms of this site differed from one another, and they suggest that the individuals are descendants of one of two extant populations of Pueblo, either Hopi and Zuni or the Pueblos populations inhabiting the Rio Grande Valley. Looking at the bodies from Chaco Canyon, Kin Bineola, the Wingate sites, the La Plata sites, and Aztec Ruins, it was possible to look at what was going on before the Chaco Phenomenon developed and around the time that it was beginning to decline but after Chaco proper had already lost influence. The analysis of human remains at these sites’ signs of social inequality and conflict is apparent in differential patterns of nutrition, activity, health, and trauma. Looking specifically at the remains of the men, it was apparent that there were markers on the bones that supported the inference that these individuals were of higher status. First, nutritional data indicates that individuals at the various sites were about the same general stature compared to one another but shorter than the men and women at Pueblo Bonito. The implication of the fact that there were no significant differences in the prevalence of cribra orbitalia and porotic hyperostosis between the sites suggests that there was relative homogeneity between the samples in the San Juan Basin. The indication of this homogeneity suggests that all individuals within the societies were at relatively equal risk for stress during the earliest years of life. This pattern was expected, as high rates of cribra orbitalia and porotic hyperostosis have been noted throughout the Greater Southwest due to a primary reliance on a single food source (maize) and the unpredictable climate (Benson 2010; Billman et al. 2000). Comparing markers of activity among individuals in the San Juan Basin, it appears that both men and women at Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 differ from individuals at other sites. What is interesting about the pattern of activity related to change on the bones from individuals interred in Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33 is that the robusticity most closely matches the much earlier La Plata sites, which aligns well with the results of a study by Coltrain et al. (2007:317). Analyzing isotopic signatures, Coltrain et al. (2007) found that the two subfloor males in Room 33 had a diet higher in protein than Pueblo people living in either the Basketmaker II/III transition or the Pueblo II period. These two findings are important because they seem to suggest that the health and diet of the males at Pueblo Bonito was better than many other Ancestral Pueblo individuals, which supports the notion that these were elites during the Chaco Phenomenon. Additionally, looking at both the upper and lower extremities, a slight age effect was observed for the younger, as compared with the older, individuals, but this was similar across all the sites. When age was considered, the individuals at Room 33 still appeared slightly more robust with scores of 2–3 or 3 (indicating moderate to severe or severe entheseal development) than individuals at Aztec Ruins, Kin Bineola, and the rest of Pueblo Bonito who had scores of 2 to 2–3 (indicating moderate or moderate to severe entheseal development). The entheseal patterns suggested a trend where age-matched males from Pueblo Bonito-Room 33 had the highest development, which was consistent with robusticity measures. This was Trauma as an Indicator of Social Control 133 especially interesting because they appeared to be more robust in the lower extremities than males from other rooms in Pueblo Bonito and the other Southwest sites. The variation in robusticity differs by anatomical element among the sexes. When men in Room 33 were compared with men in other sites, they appeared to be more robust in the femur. Statistical analysis of these differences indicated that there was a difference between these individuals and those in Pueblo Bonito West and borderline differences when compared with men at Aztec Ruins. Analysis of the robusticity of the upper extremities also seemed to suggest that these males differed. However, in contrast to the femur, the mean humerus robusticity was lower than the mean values at other sites, but this difference was not statistically significant. The findings of the analysis of robusticity seem to be supported by the pattern of entheseal development. Compared with other age-matched males at the various sites, the severity of the entheses was slightly more pronounced among the males in Room 33. However, the difference does not need to be excessive to indicate higher status, because the elite individuals, at the high-status men, were likely involved in the same activities as men at other sites. Looking at Hawikku, Gomez (2009) found that high-status individuals did not seem to differ significantly in osteoarthritic development (age- and activity-related changes to the bone) or nutrition-related anemia (porotic hyperostosis). The finding was that at Hawikku, the leaders were the ones who had the ability and privilege of performing special rituals at certain times; however, on a daily basis, they were involved in the same activities as the rest of the population (Gomez 2009:48). Activity differences also appeared to be evident among the women at Pueblo Bonito-West, as there were slight differences in the robusticity and development of entheses of the upper extremities. This pattern at the western side of Pueblo Bonito matched prior findings for the humeri of the women in Room 33 analyzed by Akins (1986:25–26), as well as the qualitative observations of the collective humeri by Martin and Stone (2003). However, because of the commingled nature of the female burials in Room 33, it was unclear if there was a difference between these women and those in the rest of Pueblo Bonito and at Aztec Ruin. However, it is still possible that this system was both hierarchical and heterarchical. In such a system, an individual’s status would not be ascribed but achieved, so it would not be unexpected for a high-status individual to have experienced periods of stress as a child. Looking at the individuals from Room 33, we see that two of the men have evidence of stress as children and one (H/3668) was a young adult who also showed evidence of moderate entheseal development.

Trauma as an Indicator of Social Control

During the Pueblo II period, the cause and maintenance of violence were complex. There is evidence of violence (LeBlanc 1999; Pérez 2006, 2012; Turner and Turner 1999) before and after Chaco Phenomenon decline, but during the height of Chaco 134 8 The Role of Elites and Social Control

Canyon, some have argued there was very little violence leading to peaceful period referred to as “Pax Chaco” (Lekson 1992, 1999, 2002, 2015). Analysis of all traumatic injuries affecting the head, including antemortem and perimortem injuries, from all of the sites in this study revealed that the patterns differ both spatially and temporally. It is also interesting that the next highest rate of trauma among males, with 2/4 (50.0%) and the lowest among females 0/2 (0.0%), was found at Pueblo del Arroyo. However, due to the small sample sizes, these frequencies may be a product of sampling bias. Another limitation of the low trauma at Pueblo del Arroyo, however, is that the females from this site were only represented by late adolescent individuals, so it was possible that they had not reached the age when the risk of traumatic injury was likely. The higher rate of trauma among men and lower rate among women in the great house sites of Pueblo Bonito and Pueblo del Arroyo in Chaco Canyon were interesting because this could suggest a pattern of trauma that indicated violence. The importance of these two sites is that they are both burial collections recovered from intramural portions of Chaco Canyon great houses, unlike Peñasco Blanco, where the burials were recovered from outside the pueblo. Cranial trauma may not always represent violence against lower-status individuals, as research by Powell (1991) and Tung (2007) found that males from higher status burials had greater rates of injury because they were more apt to engage in face-to-face combat to gain status. Similar results were revealed by bioarchaeological research by Phillip Walker and Patricia Lambert (Walker 1989; Lambert 1997; Lambert and Walker 1991) who analyzed skeletal remains from the Channel Islands off of the southern coast of California for nonlethal head wounds in ancestral Chumash groups dating from prehistoric times to historic (300 BC–AD 1500). These people were mariners and foragers who lived in large and aggregated villages and had high degree of social complexity as a result of the rich subsistence base (Arnold 1997, 2001). Thus, it is possible that the difference in the frequency of trauma among the men and women at Pueblo Bonito and possibly Pueblo del Arroyo supports a scenario where men were competing for status and women of higher status were buffered from violence (Powell 1991; Tung 2007). The ritual fighting may not have been limited to the men. Looking at the Chumash once again, the fighting there appears to have been highly ritualized and performed by adult members of both sexes who may actually have been high-status members of the groups. Based on grave goods and location of the burials, both men and women, with nonlethal wounds, appear to represent elite individuals. Although there were still about twice as many males who sustained blunt force trauma compared to females, Walker explained this distribution as ritualized fighting among higher-status males. Lambert (1997:89) originally suggested that the violence among the women was spousal abuse; however, there was also the distinct possibility that the trauma could also be the result of competition among higher-status females. Walker and Lambert connected these identical head wounds to temporal trends in resource density and an increase in trauma during periods of low productivity. These fights were probably a mechanism, whereby these high-status individuals could act out highly ritualized and staged fights. In this case, nonlethal violence Trauma as an Indicator of Social Control 135 was used in what was ultimately a positive, problem-solving manner, and it included violent behaviors by both men and women. The importance of understanding that both men and women could be involved in ritual violence and status-seeking behavior is to realize that utilizing nonlethal violence to dominate or to reaffirm one’s social position within the group is not solely a strategy utilized by males. For example, among women in Morocco, “[a] capable woman with a forceful personality could take over the management of a large household and consequently become the hub of a large and important network of relationships. Women who attained such positions tend to be clever, tough, and extremely political” (Rassam 1980: 176). Although this form of violence may go back thousands of years, it has been difficult to establish in the archaeological record, however a few studies are beginning to emerge (Martin et al. 2010; Warner et al. 2005). Considering the possibility that women can be aggressors, it is feasible that the one female with trauma in Room 33 was not a victim but a willing participant in ritual conflict. This obviously can never be proved using a bioarchaeological approach. Yet, the mere consideration of women using violence as a social strategy opens up the possibilities for interpretation. In contrast, violence among women outside the canyon was much higher compared to violence among women at Pueblo Bonito. Again this could be evidence of competition among women; however, the reality is that males are more likely to be the aggressors based on modern clinical research (Tjaden and Thoennes 2000) and evolutionary psychology studies (Wilson and Daly 1988, 1995, 2009). The low rate of violence among the women at these sites was especially interesting when contrasted with Kin Bineola where 63.6% (7 out 11) of the women had some form of cranial trauma. Violence against women by men may be what was taking place at Kin Bineola. When compared with the samples from other sites, it appears that some of the females at Kin Bineola were at greater risk of head wounds. Unfortunately due to preservation issues and collection practices, it was impossible to determine whether these women appeared to be more robust and to have more entheseal development, indicating that they worked harder (Martin et al. 2010). It is possible these women were migrants exploited for labor or captives in a system of raiding. Population predictions were conducted by Kohler and Turner (2006) as well as bioarchaeology research at the other La Plata sites in northern New Mexico where raiding for women appears to have been a cultural practice. Martin (1997, 2008) examined healed cranial trauma from individuals recovered from several a large, well-watered sites in northern New Mexico along the La Plata River. The 66 individuals analyzed in this project lived around AD 1000. The archaeologist who excavated the site referred to it as a “bread basket” because it seemed like plentiful region and was central to the regional power centers, Chaco Canyon and Aztec Ruins (Toll 1993). It turned out, however, that this so-called bread basket was not such a great place for some women. The unexpected findings on female trauma and morbidity showed that of 12 women retrieved from a partially excavated site, 9 had multiple and serious healed trauma in the form of cranial 136 8 The Role of Elites and Social Control depression fractures, face and nose fractures, rib fractures, and vertebral trauma. As a group, these women had the most severe cases of infection and anemia. They also exhibited more musculoskeletal stress markers. Finally, they were all in unusual burial positions with many appearing as if they were just thrown into the burial context. The unusual burial position suggests that when they died, they were not afforded the same burial treatment as other members of the group. The implication of this kind of violence was that the role and authority of these high-status individuals may have been limited.

The Not So Peaceful Chaco Phenomenon

Based on massacre sites in the earlier Pueblo I and later Pueblo III period, violence appears to be more often linked to intercommunity warfare or massacres (Billman et al. 2000; Kuckelman et al. 2002; Potter and Chuipka 2010; Stodder et al. 2010). In contrast, at the height of Chaco Canyon, most of the traumatic injuries that are associated with violence are nonlethal in nature, with exception of the processed and disarticulated remains (Pérez 2006; Turner 1993; Turner and Turner 1999). In the Pueblo III period, the escalation of violence is also evidenced by the construction of pueblos on cliff tops or within rock shelters, such as Cliff Palace at Mesa Verde. These indications of higher rates of violence during the Pueblo I and Pueblo III periods have always been contrasted against the Pueblo II period during the height of the Chaco Phenomenon, where there are no massacres or warfare and the spatial layout of the buildings was much more open and accessible. This lack of defense seems to suggest that there was some sort of cultural system in place to reduce intergroup conflict. Nevertheless, there is still evidence on the human remains to support the argument that this was not simply a relatively peaceful period. It appears that the presence of Pueblo Bonito may have had an impact on the level of violence, in that there were individuals or at least an ideology associated with the site that facilitated the suppression of violence. The relatively high rate of nonlethal violence and evidence of inequality suggest that while violence did decrease in severity, it remained a part of the social fabric of the culture. The influence of Chaco Canyon may have been limited to the central part of the canyon. The data seem to indicate that men were involved in violence, but women were buffered against it at Pueblo Bonito. Moving beyond the centrally located sites in Chaco Canyon and looking at Peñasco Blanco and Kin Bineola, the data suggests that females were not safe from violence. At Peñasco Blanco, the percentage of males and females with trauma to the head was comparable to the levels found at the La Plata sites and Aztec Ruins. The reason this site might have differed from Pueblo Bonito and Pueblo del Arroyo was that it was not a product of Pueblo Bonito but its competition. As suggested earlier, Peñasco Blanco may have been a competing great house during the early years of the Chaco Phenomenon, and there was very little information about the period of The Not So Peaceful Chaco Phenomenon 137 these burials. Moreover, at Kin Bineola, the data suggests that these women may have been more at risk. Additionally, there were individuals at a number of sites with perimortem or lethal trauma, including Pueblo Bonito’s Room 33. Looking specifically at Room 33, the individuals with lethal trauma may have served a ritual purpose. With the recent radiocarbon dates obtained from the human skeletal remains found in the room (Plog and Heitman 2010), it appears that the room was utilized for as long as 300 years. Looking at Pueblo Bonito, the males (H/3661, H3668, and H/3672) were interesting because of when they may have been interred at the site. If the male burial under the subfloor (H/3672) is included, who also seems to have perimortem trauma to the head, it could indicate a temporal pattern at Chaco Canyon as well. Based on mean dates provided by the radiocarbon dating of the remains, the subfloor burial was one of the first, while the other two were the last to be interred in Room 33, based on date ranges provided by Plog and Heitman (2010) (Table 8.1). Radiocarbon dates for individuals in Room 33 with perimortem trauma indicate that there is individual burial H/3672, who is one of the two subfloor burials and has one of the oldest mean dates. Second, there are burial H/3661 and burial H/3668, who have the most recent date range (AD 1023–1185 cal) of interment. These date ranges may suggest that violence was more lethal at the beginning and toward the end of the Chaco Phenomenon, which supports the notion of a “Pax Chaco” (Lekson 1992, 1999, 2002, 2015). Even more interesting, however, is that based on radiocarbon analysis of the bones, the two lower burials below the artificial floor date to the beginning of construction at Pueblo Bonito (Coltrain et al. 2007; Plog and Heitman 2010). The implication being that the room remained a significant site for the Chacoan people for as long as they occupied Pueblo Bonito. It is possible that these burials are also representative of important Ancestral Pueblo people. Additionally, the date range coincided with the final period of Pueblo Bonito, before there was evidence of a large number of people migrating out of the canyon.

Table 8.1 Radiocarbon dates for individual in Room 33 with perimortem trauma Radiocarbon dates for the Pueblo Bonito-Room 33 individuals with perimortem trauma Radiocarbon Burial age (BP) Range 95% CI Laboratory H/3661 928 1023–1185 Arizona Accelerator Mass Spectrometry Laboratory, H/3668 930 1023–1185 University of Arizonaa H/3672 1214a 690–940 Archaeological Center Research Facility, University of Utahb 1213b 690–940 Arizona Accelerator Mass Spectrometry Laboratory, University of Arizonaa 1240 687–870 Center for Accelerator Mass Spectrometry, Lawrence Livermore National Laboratorya aPlog and Heitman (2010) bColtrain et al. (2007) 138 8 The Role of Elites and Social Control

If these two men died at the decline of Pueblo Bonito as a regional center, it is possible their death marked a significant event. It has been suggested that men with perimortem trauma at Cave 7, a Basketmaker II site in southeastern Utah, were sacrificed, either ritually or in battle (Coltrain et al. 2012:2228). The similarity between Pueblo Bonito and these recent findings by Coltrain et al. (2012) is that both burial assemblages included men with perimortem trauma to the head who were buried over a period of time and not in a single event. It could be that this pattern of ritual fighting for status was a long-standing Pueblo ideology that was accentuated during the Chaco Phenomenon. Based on the mortuary context and human skeletal remains, we must accept that a system of leadership may have existed during the Chaco Phenomenon but that a heterarchical hierarchy focused on achieved status might explain individuals that have both markers of high status along with indicators of stress and evidence of violence.

The Nature of Leadership at Chaco

Despite evidence of elites, the notion that the Chaco Phenomenon was controlled by one regional center, Pueblo Bonito, is not universally accepted. In a recent chapter, Wirt Wills (2015) did a wonderful job exploring what leadership in Chaco Canyon would have looked like and attempted to determine if the social order created in the region during the Pueblo II period was a consequence of competition or cooperation. “Obviously the Chaco Phenomenon involved leaders, and undoubtedly those leaders competed with one another for prestige, influence, and power” (Wills 2015:43). Yet, he challenges the readers to consider that even if we accept the presence of elite individuals at Chaco Canyon, can we accept that these leaders could have coordinated the construction of all the great houses in the Chaco Phenomenon based purely on their ability to gain political and ideological prestige? There is much debate that the validity of constructing a system with “elites” and “commoners” is not new. Barbara Mills (2002:77) cited the lack of the well-defined hierarchy being mentioned in early ethnographies recorded among the extant Pueblo populations as one reason to challenge the notion of hierarchy in the canyon. The alternative model suggests that there were large corporate groups or regional polities that formed a heterarchy, which Yoffee describes as a system where many hierarchies coexist (2007:179). These hierarchies are maintained through a balance of cooperation and competition. Lekson argues against the heterarchy claims saying “Chaco was socially and politically “complex” – that is, a hierarchy, with definite haves and definite have-nots. Hierarchy, not heterarchy: A few people at Chaco regularly and customarily directed the actions of many other people…” (1999:26). Wills (2015:43) also suggests that the complexity at Chaco Canyon was the product of cooperative corporate groups similar to what Mogollon researchers have suggested for the Mimbres complexity (Creel 2006; Diehl 2006; Hegmon 2002; Roth and Baustian 2015; Shafer 2006). Looking to the south, the people living in the Mimbres region, similar to the Ancestral Pueblo individuals at Chaco Canyon, The Nature of Leadership at Chaco 139 appear to have a system of social control. Archaeological evidence suggests that the Mimbres culture was likely based on corporate groups (Creel 2006; Diehl 2006; Hegmon 2002; Roth and Baustian 2015; Shafer 2006). Barbara Roth and Kathryn Baustian argue that evidence from human skeletal remains supports archaeological findings that indicate there was some level of status differentiation among these groups. Baustian (2015), looking at human remains from several sites in the Mimbres region and surrounding Mogollon cultural area, found individuals were slightly taller and the rate of traumatic injury were lower. Interpreting these findings, she posits that it could be higher-status members of corporate groups that could have buffered the society against violence by creating a system of social control that promoted group cohesion and cooperation rather than conflict (Baustian 2015:122–123). As discussed in Chap. 3, there are many strategies for establishing and maintaining social control, so it is quite possible that the Mimbres culture had found a way to do this that did not necessarily promote particular individuals like the elites at Chaco Canyon. The problem with constructing a dichotomy between hierarchy and heterarchy for the leadership structure at Chaco Canyon is that it may not be a valid distinction. Several recent studies have shown that these two systems can coexist. For example, looking at access to and preference for certain types of food, Metcalfe et al. (2009) found in the Mayan region that the distribution of food was both heterachical and hierarchical in nature. The system that was operating among the Mayan populations under evaluation “depended on the level of analysis (within sites or among sites) and on the groups being compared (age, sex, rulers, other individuals)” (Metcalfe et al. 2009:33). Similarly according to Hastorf (2002), examination of the Wanka or Xauxa, a chiefdom-level society in the Andes during the Late Intermediate Period, found that the two systems coexisted. Hastorf (2002:315) suggests that the difference between hierarchy and heterarchy is that hierarchy is an individual’s political power within the culture, while heterarchy is the power that groups possess and is constantly negotiated through cooperation and competition to maintain a balance of power. Wanka society was lineage based, but certain lineages, due to a number of factors, could gain more power, and then the high-ranking members within those lineages could further increase their own rank. One method of gaining status among the Wanka was as a war leader (zinchi) who led raids against neighboring groups to acquire land, captives, and status (Hastorf 2002:318–319). Keeping this in mind, we can reinterpret the grave goods mentioned above as representing material remains in a heterarchical system that were ultimately utilized to identify a hierarchical rank among the leaders of these different lineages. This higher status may not have equated to a better life that would be reflected in the individual’s health or nutrition. Looking back to the Wanka, Hastorf suggests that being an elite was not easy and the rewards were not necessarily plentiful. The Wanka culture organizes into medium-sized agricultural communities not like the Chaco Phenomenon, so it is possible that the elites at Chaco were also only margin- ally better off than the rest of society. The mortuary context of Room 33 and the biocultural identity of the individuals interred there indicate that these burials were unlike other burials found within 140 8 The Role of Elites and Social Control

Chaco Canyon and at outlying sites (Akins 1986; Harrod 2012, 2013). The markers on the body seem to demonstrate that the individuals thought to represent elites at Chaco Canyon do not necessarily appear to have indicators of better health and nutrition, suggesting that the society may have been more hierarchically structured than the Wanka. However, I would suggest it is the combination of both archaeological and bioarchaeological data that seems to indicate that the sociopolitical relations among the ancestral Pueblo were complex but still likely hierarchical to some degree, evidenced by the manner in which the remains were interred, the distribution and type of grave goods, and the indication of violence found on the burials. The implication was that the individuals in this room, arguably both the males and females, represented elites, whose bodies were part of a tradition of ancestor worship.

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Accepting that violence was a part of the precontact Puebloan worldview, the question left unanswered is what is the motivation behind the violence. As my colleagues and I have mentioned in a prior publication, researchers working in the Greater Southwest generally accept the notion that resource scarcity leads to violence (see Harrod and Martin 2014 for a discussion of this tendency). This is especially true for those working on understanding the few massacre sites that have been excavated and studied and that typically get associated with cannibalism (Billman et al. 2000; Kuckelman et al. 2002; Kuckelman and Martin 2007; Turner and Turner 1999). As mentioned earlier, there were a series of droughts at around AD 1090, and then there was another series, often called the Great Drought, around AD 1280 that lasted nearly a decade (Benson et al. 2007). The first drought appears to correlate with the cessation of construction at Pueblo Bonito at around AD 1090 (Wills 2009:285). Right after this first drought, there is a surge in building north of Chaco Canyon, first at Salmon Ruin (Windes and Bacha2008 :125) and then at Aztec Ruins (Brown et al. 2008; Lekson 1999; Stein et al. 2003). However, according to precipitation models based on dendrochronology research by Benson et al. (2007), there were several series of wet and dry periods in Chaco Canyon. The wet periods have been associated with development (e.g., there is construction around AD 1050, the Classic Bonito phase, and, AD 1100, the McElmo phase). While during the drier periods, we often see a cessation in construction. Outside of the canyon however, a new Classic-style great house called Salmon Ruin is built around the time that the Classic period in Chaco Canyon is declining. Construction at this site began in AD 1068 and intensified at around AD 1088, while it is not until around AD 1150 that the Classic-style great houses were no longer constructed in Chaco Canyon. It appears that the dry periods correlate with when people began to migrate away from the canyon. During these periods of drought, people left, and new pueblos were constructed in more fertile regions, including Totah, Mesa Verde, and Zuni (Duff and Schachner 2007; Duff and Wilshusen 2000; Lekson 1999; Lekson and Cameron 1995). So although the droughts are not debated, the exact reaction of the community and effect it had on the Chaco Phenomenon is not completely understood and

© Springer International Publishing AG 2017 145 R.P. Harrod, The Bioarchaeology of Social Control, Bioarchaeology and Social Theory, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-59516-0_9 146 9 The Decline of Social Control in the Pueblo World likely the result of a number of interacting factors (Berger 2009; Harrod and Martin 2014; Judge 1989; Lekson 1999; Lekson and Cameron 1995; Toll 2008). What we need to consider in addition to climatic factors is the role of immigration, reforma- tions in ideology, and shifts in social organization. These are issues that the European Union is dealing with now with Brexit, and we can see it in our own country with the rise of political movements like the Tea Party, Occupy Wall Street, Black Lives Matter, “Make America Great Again” rhetoric that helped Donald Trump become the 45th president, and the “Alt-Right” movement.

Immigration

During the particularly volatile changes that took place between AD 900 and 1300 with massive population movements and migration as well as increases in ritual violence and warfare, it could be argued that if the Athabascans were in the region, they were perhaps one of the factors that lead to these changes in the demography of the American Southwest. Is it possible that some of this migration and violence was due to the additional stress of raiding by mobile foragers? The importance of considering the Athabascan cultures is that they may have been a factor, even if slight, in why Chaco Canyon eventually came to an end. The failure to consider all possibilities is a limitation, and it predisposes people to make the mistake of believing that just because there is no evidence of an earlier arrival that proves, beyond a doubt, that Athabascan groups were not in the US Southwest before AD 1300. There is data to suggest that the frequency and distribution of violence did increase during this cultural period and that several large ceremonial complexes at Chaco Canyon and Pueblo Bonito were no longer used. Were the Athabascans responsible? The intent of this project is to test the notion presented by Binford (1980) on the archaeological invisibility of extremely mobile hunter-gatherers. He suggests that it would be extremely difficult to detect these groups using standard archaeological methods. Using a description provided for some of the earliest agricultural groups in the Mediterranean, these groups would have essentially been “ephemeral on the landscape” (McClure et al. 2006:271). Extremely mobile hunter-gatherers are groups found in tropical or equatorial and arctic environments where subsistence resources are variable in terms of distribution and quantity, which is also characteristic of desert ecosystems (Binford 1980). To highlight the mobile nature of foragers, Binford (1980) identifies two groups as archetypal extreme mobile hunter-gatherers, the Punam in Borneo and the Guayaki (i.e., Aché) in Paraguay. The primary argument for why these groups leave little or no trace on the landscape is that since they have to be constantly moving in order to obtain scattered and unpredictable resources they typically carry less material goods and those that they do carry are not left behind. The result is that there are no accumulations of material remains where they have been, which is especially true if the raw material is scarce Immigration 147 and intensive utilization is required. A secondary argument for why we do not see these mobile hunter-gatherers on the landscape is that they do not reuse sites very often as they move about the landscape. The lack of evidence to support people revisiting sites is again attributed to the unpredictable nature of the resources. The problem with this perspective is that according to modern archaeological understanding of mobile hunter-gatherers it does not seem to hold up. The reality is that people are not simple calorie counters that rely on cost-benefit analysis to determine how they behave, as has been suggested by some archaeologists (Bird and O’Connell 2006; Hawkes et al. 1982; Jones and Madsen 1989; Winterhalder 2001). Human groups are intimately tied to, and arguably defined by, their history, so the idea that groups would never visit the same sites has not been shown to necessarily be true for contemporary foragers. The connections to local landscape are especially important if the culture views certain sites as sacred. The volume edited by Van Dyke and Alcock (2003) shows numerous cases where human populations reuse sites because of ideological reasons or a sense of it being part of their cultural history. Thus, though groups may be mobile, it is a distinct possibility that they would leave sufficient evidence behind to identify an ephemeral presence on the landscape. The difference in geographical region is important for Binford (1980:13) because he argues that mobility is a function of “effective temperature.” Effective temperature is a measure of solar radiation, which determines the timing and duration of plant-growing season that in turn impacts what and the amount of resources available in a given environment (Bailey 1960). Looking at effective temperature and mobility predicts a pattern of extreme mobility in the equatorial region, but it may not hold true for the subarctic region. Instead, it appears groups here are seminomadic or mobile with occasional settlement and storage during the winter. According to Binford (1980:13), however, there are several subarctic groups that “are probably truly exceptional in being more mobile and not putting up stores for the winter in appreciable amounts” (Binford 1980:13). The reality is that the groups in the Southwest are not living in, or originally from, a tropic or arctic environment. However, one of the groups that is recorded as highly mobile and not questioned by Binford is the Slave, which is one of the Northern Athabascan groups that are believed to be closely related to the Apache and Navajo. This Northern Athabascan group may provide some insight into the archaeological behavior of the early migrants into the US Southwest. Among the Dena’ina found in south central Alaska, there is some evidence to suggest that sites were intentionally cleaned. Kari et al. (2012) provide a list of publications and conference papers where researchers have noted a lack of cultural material at precontact and historic Dena’ina sites (Boraas and Kalifornsky 1991; Workman 1996; Yesner and Holmes 1990, 2000). Alan Boraas and Peter Kalifornsky (Boraas and Kalifornsky 1991) using oral traditions attempt to explain the lack of material remains as a consequence of a cultural ideology of where the remains of animals (i.e., the remnants of their subsistence strategy) are ritually disposed of outside the site. Kalifornsky, a Dena’ina elder himself, suggests that this practice is in line with the sukdu or oral traditions of the Dena’ina that urges people to either deposit the remains back into the nearest water source or burn them so they could be reincar- nated (Boraas and Kalifornsky 1991:3). 148 9 The Decline of Social Control in the Pueblo World

In a follow-up article, Alan Boraas and Donita Peter (Boraas and Peter 2008:215) describe the concept of beggesh or the notion that humans, artifacts, and archaeological sites have a scent or spirit that required they were treated properly. They suggest that the belief in beggesh is the reason why Dena’ina sites “…occupied by fifty to a hundred people [are] so devoid of discarded artifacts and refuse” (Boraas and Peter 2008:223). Looking at the cultural worldviews of other Athabascan groups, it might be possible to understand what role ideology and daily practice play in determining if we can identify their settlements in the US Southwest before AD 1300. More recently, several researchers have attempted to identify the limitations associated with finding an early Athabascan site in the Southwest (see the edited volume by Seymour 2012). Deni Seymour over the years has conducted extensive archaeological work on this topic, but two reports in particular are important to consider because she and her colleagues reported on involving historic campsites of extant Apache. These are sites where groups were known to have camped and were located using archival records and photographs. These sites are important because we can prove that the Apache culture inhabited the area, even for a short period, which provides good case studies for determining what features archaeologist should look for when excavating mobile foraging sites. These sites clearly illustrate the difficulty of identifying early Athabascans in the Southwest. The first site was where Cochise signed a treaty with General Oliver Howard in southeastern Arizona in mid-October of 1872, and the second is in Mexico where groups of Apache led by Geronimo and Naiche, Cochise’s son (Orden 1989), briefly surrendered to General George Cook at the end of March in 1886 (Seymour 2009, 2013; Seymour and Robertson 2008). Seymour suggests that both sites illustrate that there are archaeological signatures we can look for when trying to find highly mobile Athabascan groups in the Southwest. These two case studies were campsites where the Apache settled temporarily after years of moving around the landscape to avoid the US Military. Bryan Gordon (2012) analyzing Chipewyan sites in Western Canada paints the following picture of what a site inhabited by an early Athabascan group would look like. First, he confirms that these are highly mobile hunter-gatherers with extremely small group sizes. Then he states that they rely primarily on caribou herds for subsistence, with fish being secondary, and their technology is characterized by the bow and arrow, herding fences, and fishing nets. These characteristics are important because they result in the development of a culture that is extremely hard to see on the landscape unless researchers are trained to look for the evidence. Gordon (2008a, 2012) provides a set of characteristics that define the Northern Athabascan, which can be used to infer what one might find in the Southwest. Some of the major characteristics include (1) concealed or hidden camps as a protective measure while in foreign territory inhabited by other cultural groups, (2) rock rings or house structures (e.g., the rock rings noted by Seymour (2009) that are associated with Apache wiki- ups), (3) side-notched or corner-notched projectile points, and (4) skeletal remains of dogs that likely accompanied south from the subarctic (Gordon 2012:339). What we should take away from the ongoing research about the Athabascan in the US Southwest is that positive identification is difficult but may be possible. Immigration 149

Using the archaeological descriptions of historic campsites associated with the Apache (Seymour 2009, 2013; Seymour and Robertson 2008), the site characteristics presented by Gordon (2008a, 2012), and the archaeological and ethnographic accounts of proper way care for material remains (Boraas and Kalifornsky 1991) suggest that it is possible that many of the earliest sites in Southwest are unidenti- fied because we are looking for the wrong material culture: This lack of direct correspondence between Subartic tool kits and Subartic lifeways, on the one hand, and the earliest Athapaskan evidence in the Southwest, on the other, suggests one of a couple of different things: (1) that we have not yet found the earliest Athapaskan evidence in the Southwest, and that what we have recognized has already changed from the founding population. If this is the case, we should be looking in the 1100s for a signature that is more similar to the Subartic. Or (2) that the founding Athapaskans took their time coming south and intermixed with other groups along the way, adopted new technologies, changing as they came, but still they came as a genetically homogeneous group of Athapaskan genes. (Seymour 2008:12) Accepting that the Athabascan cultures (e.g., Navajo and Apache) may have arrived earlier than AD 1300, it is quite possible that we do not find the evidence because of site sampling and artifact testing bias (Seymour 2010). While determining when people arrived in the Southwest is difficult, we may have a more precise estimate from when they left the subarctic. William Workman (1972, 1974, 1978) and David Derry (1975) were the first to suggest that a volcanic eruption evidenced by the presence of the White River Ash deposits in Eastern Alaska and the southern half of the Yukon was the reason the Dene people migrated south. The volcano that deposited the ash was around Mount Churchill in the Saint Elias mountain range along the Alaska-Canada border (Mullen 2012:36). According to Mullen (2012:36), there were two measureable eruptions, the first smaller than the second, but both would have had an impact on the people in the area. The approximate dates for the eruptions were AD 103 (1830 cal BP) and AD 803 (1147 cal BP), which were both almost 500 years prior to AD 1300 when the Athabascan people may have reached the Southwest (Mullen 2012:36). As mentioned above, the consequence of volcanic eruptions is not entirely predictable. Phyllis Fast (1990, 2008), evaluating several historic and modern oral traditions of among Athabascans living in different parts of the arctic and subarctic, suggests that for the cultures mountains are very important and changes to the mountains are viewed as being the result of supernatural punishment. In one story called shiw gul’a akutchia or the mountain that melted by the Dogrib or Tlinchon Athabascans of the Northwest Territories, Canada describes how people all spoke one language near the mountain, but after it melted, they were spread out and new languages developed (Fast 2008:136). In a prior publication, Debra Martin and I (Harrod and Martin 2014) discussed how the Sinagua culture adapted to the series of eruptions at Sunset Crater after AD 1050. We focused on the development of more elaborate sites like Wupatki and cited prior research that demonstrated how volcanic ash can actually improve the soil for cultivation (Elson et al. 2007; May 2008). The Sinaguan people appear to have prospered after the eruption of Sunset Crater because increased deposits of tephra soil 150 9 The Decline of Social Control in the Pueblo World actually added nutrients to the existing soil (Ort et al. 2008). The eruption initially drove people out of the area, but they were able to return and capitalize on the more fertile agricultural land. In contrast, the Athabascan cultures being mobile foragers obviously would not have valued soil productivity for the cultivation of crops but relied on predictable resources and lacked surplus corn stores. According to Workman, the combination of snow and ash in Wrangell – St. Elias Mountain range – could have caused flooding and killed the trees (Fast2008 :133; Workman 1974:249–250). In reference to Sunset Crater, Colton (1932:589–590, Fig. 1) described changes to the geographic distribution of pine and juniper trees. The point is that the impact of a massive series of volcanic eruptions for a culture in one area may be very different from another culture living in a very different ecological area. Even if we accept that the volcanic eruption was a major catalyst for the migration of the southern Athabascan (Apache and Navajo), we must use caution assuming that the people migrated all the way to the US Southwest for this reason. According to Magne and Matson (2013), the volcanic explosion can only be viewed as an initial catalyst for migration but does not explain why they continued to move south (I will discuss some of the other reasons more in Chap. 8).

The Impact of Migrants

In earlier book with Debra Martin (Harrod and Martin 2014), we offered the following evidence for what an earlier arrival of Athabascan cultures would mean for the Ancestral Pueblo. The notion of these incoming groups raiding the Pueblos is not hard to fathom, as even during ethnographic there are numerous accounts of Apache and Navajo raids (e.g., Navajo Raid that happened in 1910). The question, however, is why when these groups came into contact with one another did they not form peaceful relations and avoid confrontation. The best way to address this is to understand how the Northern Athabascan groups interact with their neighbors. Since, the Chipewyan are the group that the Apache and Navajo are thought to have descended from (Gordon 2008b) it makes sense to explore how they interacted with the groups around them. According to Roberts (2008), the relations between the Chipewyan and Inuit is equated to modern racism because of the attitude of the Chipewyan toward the Inuit. Between these groups, peaceful interactions are extremely rare, raids are common, and massacre events take place. Evidence of these massacres is provided by ethnographic accounts (Hearne and McGoogan 2007), oral traditions (Great Canadian Parks 2007), and archaeological sites (Melbye and Fairgrieve 1994). In 1771, Samuel Hearne witnessed what he later called the “Bloody Falls Massacre” where the Northern Indians (i.e., Chipewyan) came upon and murdered five tents of Esquimaux (i.e., Copper Inuit), which he estimates 20 people, of which there were men, women, and children (Hearne and McGoogan 2007). In describing the relationship between the Chipewyan and Copper Inuit, he says that when the two groups encountered one another “the strongest party always killed the weakest, Immigration 151 without sparing either man, woman or child” (Hearne and McGoogan 2007:234). According to Mason (2000:240), oral histories are “memories or recollections of individuals who experienced or witnessed in their own lives the events they relate.” In contrast to an oral history, oral traditions “extend back beyond living memory and are believed by their narrators to be more or less faithful renderings of the older hap- penings to which they refer.” He says that these oral traditions are not only a source of record according to Native Americans but also the most truthful depiction of history and that archaeology is only seen as valuable when it is assisting in reaffirming these traditions. The following oral tradition from Western Canada also provides evidence that the migrating Athabascans may have initially been hostile toward the Ancestral Pueblo groups. There is also a relevant Dene oral tradition of the Naha who are thought to be the ancestral group of the Navajo (Great Canadian 2007). According to the Dene, the Naha was a tribe who claimed the Mackenzie Mountains as their territory, and they were fierce warriors, unhesitating in their attack upon anyone who camped within their boundaries and sometimes beyond. A description of the Naha by Herb Norwegian, a Fort Simpson Band Chief, states: They were raiders. They came down the great rivers and they took advantage of whoever was living there. It came to a point where the people in the flats and lowlands couldn’t put up with the continuous raiding every year, so finally the elders got together and said ‘we got to put a stop to this’. They were on top of the mountain and they knew the Nahande people were down there and they attacked. To their great surprise, they found out that in these teepees, around the campfire, that there wasn’t anybody around. (Great Canadian Parks2007 :2) The Great Canadian Parks website (2007:2) states that the belief on what happened to the Naha is somewhat debated, as some versions of the tradition claim that they were eventually found and killed, and others claim they migrated south and became the Navajo. Support for the latter is provided by the fact that the language of the Slavey Dene in Mackenzie Mountains today is so similar to Navajo that when a Slave man visited the Southwest they could converse with minimal difficulty (Great Canadian Parks 2007). It is important to also rely on archaeological records that support there is being a tradition of hostility between the two groups, because ethnographic records can be biased and oral traditions may change as they adopt new information. The best evidence for this is provided by the discovery of disarticulated human remains at the Saunaktuk site (NgTn-1), which according to calibrated radiocarbon samples dates to AD 1370 ± 57 (Melbye and Fairgrieve 1994). The importance of this site is that it represents a massacre site where remains thought to belong to Inuit are discovered in relations to the Kutchin culture, which is another Northern Athabascan group in northeast Alaska. The importance of there being a sense of “us” and “them” in among the Northern Athabascan that led to warfare and occasional massacres is that at the time when Gordon (2008b) estimates the Southern Athabascans are arriving in the Southwest (i.e., AD 1100), there is an increase in general violence and massacre, sometimes referred to as cannibalism, sites. Magne and Matson (2010:226) also suggest that the Pueblo III period depopulation may have been a consequence of the Athabascan moving into the Southwest. According to Billman and colleagues (2000) starting 152 9 The Decline of Social Control in the Pueblo World around AD 1150 researchers have found over twenty sites where these events occur other sites in Mesa Verde region. Several notable sites are Cowboy Wash (Billman et al. 2000), Castle Rock, and Sand Canyon pueblos (Kuckelman et al. 2002). Though raiding was a part of the region for a very long time, and there is evidence of several isolated massacre sites (e.g., Sacred Ridge), these sites represent a shift toward a new level of, or perhaps more appropriately, approach to violence. While it is valid to argue that the Pueblo people could be doing this to one another, and it is likely they were, the role of these extremely mobile hunter-gatherers cannot be discounted altogether. Dongoske et al. (2000:181) report that “the Hopi word for the Navajo is Tasavu which some Hopi translate as the ‘people who butcher others’ [from tahu, tendon gristle, cartilage, muscle; and saavuta, chop with an ax or ham- mer]” (Hill et al. 1998:488, 568)]. Additionally, as mentioned in Chap. 2, there are ethnographic accounts of Apache and Navajo raids. In fact, discussing the stresses modern Athabascan groups were facing, Kluckhohn and Leighton (1946) suggest that a typical reaction by the Navajo to increasing population densities and incur- sions from Euro-American settlers would be raiding, which is compounded by the reality that “The People’s traditional remedies for such a situation – raiding and migration – are no longer open to them. The lands surrounding their island are fully occupied and already overused” (Kluckhohn and Leighton 1946:19). The argument against nomadic raiding is that researchers argue these extremely mobile groups would have to be numerous in order to displace the Pueblo people, which would have left an archaeological signature (Linton 1944; Lipe 1995). If, however, their presence was just one more factor that contributed to the stress, it would not be necessary for there to be large numbers of these hunter-gatherers. Ember and Ember (1992) have argued that resource insecurity and unpredictability, along with socialization for fear, provide significant predictors for increased conflict and warfare. This fear factor was important in the Southwest, as data from dendrochronology has that there is support for the existence of numerous episodes of pro- longed drought in the region. The fluctuating climate meant that groups were dealing with the fear of recurring droughts along with actual episodic resource instability. Thus, a heightened vigilance to protect limited resources could have intensified conflict and augmented social stratification. In addition, the increase in raiding or warfare could have led to a persistent fear of attack as indicated by the presence of defensive architecture (Benson et al. 2007; Dean and Doyel 2006; Douglass 1929). The idea is that if people are afraid of unpredictable events, such as weather changes or pending attacks, they are more likely to attack their neighbors to obtain more resources as a form of buffering against the unknown. The implication of the findings by Ember and Ember (1992) and Lekson (2002) for now and the future is that even if societies survive moderate to extreme climatic events that cause droughts or famines, there is a good chance that they will migrate from a region or resort to conflict if they feel that the climate may change again. When discussing the role that the Athabascans may have played on the fall of the Chaco Phenomenon, we must also consider the possibility that not all the interactions between the Ancestral Pueblo and these migrating hunter-gatherers were always violent. While Darwin argues that competition for resources (i.e., violence) Ideology 153 is a primary motivation, he is implying competition in the form of reproduction not fighting. One of the best ways to ensure reproduction success is to cooperate and reduce the risk of injury and death. Along these lines, Barash (2003) and Mead (2002) argue that humans have the tendency for, and realize it is adaptive to ensure, cooperation. It is through cooperation, however, that conflict arises (e.g., male coali- tional violence). Looking back at the history of the Navajo and Ancestral Pueblo, we do find support for cooperation in the form of both oral tradition and genetic evidence. The idea is that they seem to have eventually established a relationship of collaboration. In regard to genetic evidence, multiple studies have shown that the Ancestral Pueblo and modern Pueblo populations share haplogroup B (Carlyle 2003; Carlyle et al. 2000; LeBlanc et al. 2007). Research comparing Native American haplogroups has found that there is evidence that there was likely genetic mixture between the migrating Athabascans and the Ancestral Pueblo (Malhi 2012; Malhi et al. 2003). Analysis of mtDNA, Y chromosome, and the plasma protein human serum albumin (HAS), however, suggests that the exchange of genes only occurred in one direction with Pueblo women entering Athabascan populations (Malhi 2012). Some researchers have suggested that the DNA findings may not represent population mixture between Athabascan and other Southwest groups. For example, looking at the genetic evidence from a site in the Southwest outside of Farmington, called the Mine Canyon site, DNA evidence seems to support the migration pattern suggested above of conflict. Even though there is an increase in haplogroup A that resembles the frequencies found among the Navajo, analysis of point-specific muta- tion (e.g., 16,233 and 16,331) depicts that the typical pattern seen with Athabascan populations is not present (Snow et al. 2010).

Ideology

Arguably as critical as considering climate is understanding the role that ideology plays in the manifestation of violence and the push to migrate. It is entirely possible that these droughts did not directly lead to violence but that their presence could have created a “fear” of drought among the Puebloan people that allowed for the use of violence as a means of preventing and controlling resource unpredictability. Ember and Ember (1992) argue that resources do not even need to be scarce; people just have to think that they are or will be scarce in the future. Using the Human Relations Area Files (HRAF), which is a repository of ethnographic data from many cultures, they have attempted to answer the question of why groups go to war. What Ember and Ember (1992) found was that it is not resource insecurity or threat from outside groups that predicts violence. Rather, it is how the culture perceives the threat of potential violence. In cultures where there is a fear of resource unpredictability, there is often a concomitant trend toward the socialization for fear. This in turn is linked to an increased likelihood of conflict and warfare. If people are afraid of unpredictable events, such as weather changes or pending attacks, then they are 154 9 The Decline of Social Control in the Pueblo World more likely to attack their neighbors to obtain more resources as a form of buffering against the unknown. The implication of these findings for now and the future is that even if societies survive moderate to extreme droughts or famines, there is a good chance that they will migrate or resort to conflict if they feel that the climate may change again. As discussed in Chap. 5, the migration pattern in the Southwest, however, was by no means simple. There were likely many migrations between AD 700 and 1300 (Hantman 1983; Lekson 1990). In fact, migration is not just a characteristic of the Chaco Phenomenon but something that characterizes a worldview of the Ancestral Pueblo who were continually “searching for ‘the center place,’ a place of spiritual rightness” (Trefler 2007:438). Looking at the oral traditions of modern Pueblo from Santa Clara Pueblo, it is apparent that migration is part of the worldview. Naranjo (1995:248) cites several stories that depict frequent migration as the norm and even as a requirement because “…it is necessary for the perpetuation of life.” When people in the Four Corners region migrated once again in around AD 1300, we see evidence of very different social organization and ideology with the appearance of katsina material in the archaeological record. Additionally, the site layout and material culture indicate that the relationships between these groups differed significantly from the sites within the Chaco Phenomenon. Among the post- 1300 Ancestral Pueblo, ethnohistoric records indicate there were different descent systems (patrilineage and matrilineage), languages (Uto-Aztecan and Zuni isolate), and forms of social organization. There was also an ideological shift at this time with the development of the katsina religion. Evidence for the presence of the katsina religion archaeologically is provided by the presence of large plazas post-AD 1300 (Adler 1996). If the massacre events that followed the decline of Chaco Canyon and the processed bodies found during its height were examples of witches as discussed in Chap. 3, then the failure of the gambling system of control may have led to the adoption of more coercive methods of trying to maintain or even reestablish social control. The site with human remains exhibiting extreme processing (i.e., witch killings, massacres, cannibalism) could have represented social and political dissidents that were in opposed to the social complexity that appears to be present during the height of the Chaco Phenomenon: From the midst of this disorder and these revolutions, despotism, gradually rearing its ugly head and swallowing up everything that it had seen to be good and sound in all parts of the state, would in the end manage to trample underfoot the people as well as the laws and establish itself upon the ruins of the republic. (Rousseau 1994 [1755]:82). Analysis of state-level violence indicates that coercive control is a short-term solution and people can only suffer so much before they rebel against the system trying to subjugate them (Gurr 1970; Oberschall 1978, 1993; Oliver 2008). By the end of the 1200s, most of the Pueblo people appear to leave the region and relocate to Hopi Mesa, the Rio Grande Valley, and Zuni region. Eventually, the Pueblo people abandon the social complexity that seems apparent during the Chaco Phenomenon, and a new ideology was embraced. Ideology 155

It is possible that the arrival of the katsina is important for understanding the eventual rejection of the Chaco Phenomenon. Lekson and Cameron (1995:192) argue that there is some evidence to suggest that the katsina developed in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and it is possible that it was introduced to the region earlier than the migration out of the Four Corners region. Based on spatial layout and architecture, Van Dyke (2009:240) has suggested it was also present. Interestingly enough, discussing the latter Mogollon site of Grasshopper Pueblo, Reid and Whittlesey (1999:101–102) note that there is a shift in mortuary pattern among children between the ages of 9 and 15, which may signal that they have gone through rite of passage that changed their position in the community. They suggest that this shift might have been induction into “…some pueblo-wide ceremonial organization, perhaps similar to the katsina religion among the historically known Hopi people” (Reid and Whittlesey 1999:102). The argument for the katsina originating among the Mogollon is not new; Polly and Curtis Schaafsma (Schaafsma and Schaafsma 1974:538), studying rock art depictions of the katsina, suggested it developed among the Jornada Branch of the Mogollon as early as AD 1150 and was not present in the Rio Grande River Valley or around the Hopi Mesas until after AD 1300. After several decades of research and numerous publications, Polly Schaafsma presents a model for the origin of the religion as “…a Mimbres–Jornada–Rio Grande developmental continuum of katsina ceremonialism with influence from Mesoamerica…” (Mathiowetz2015 :168). Despite not knowing the exact origin of the katsina, “…the old order at Chaco did fail – or was drastically transformed and new orders, such as the katsina belief system (Adams 1991), and the symbols and beliefs underlying the Salado interactions sphere (Crown 1994) replaced it” (Yoffee 2007:171). Fowles (2012) argues against the use of the notion of rejection, saying that it portrays Chaco as a bad place. Stating that as an alternative, this period should be thought of as: [A]n age of reformation, characterized by both a widespread social critique of the prior “theocratic” order of the Chacoan world as well as the institution of a reactionary and more aggressively egalitarian culture in which (1) the privileges of leadership were downplayed, (2) social uniformity and collectivism were emphasized, and (3) access to the spirits was, if not democratized, then at least drawn into communal experience far more than in the prior era. (Fowles 2012:632–633) The katsina may have served as reformation for the ancestral Pueblo. If the ideology of Chaco Canyon did in fact promote social control as a means of maintaining a sociopolitical hierarchy, it differs significantly from the katsina worldview that is designed to encourage cooperation among various cultures by promoting inclusive- ness and cutting across kinship lines (Kintigh 2000). In fact, the very core of the katsina religion is the promotion of communal activities such as dancing, feasting, and spiritual gatherings, all of which encourage egalitarianism. The development of the katsina religions does not mean the Pueblo people became a peaceful of pacifist culture. We only need to look at violent events like the massacre at Awat’ovi (Brooks 2016; Martin 2016) or the Pueblo Revolt (Liebmann 2012; Liebmann and Preucel 2007; Roberts 2004; Wilcox 2009) to see that violence remained a viable tool of social interaction. According to Matthew 156 9 The Decline of Social Control in the Pueblo World

Liebmann (2012:47), the Pueblo Revolt was not an isolated event; there were at least eight other campaigns of resistance before the Pueblo Revolt in AD 1680. Bandelier describes the weapons that were used in warfare among the Pueblo at contact as the bow and arrow, stone clubs, and bison hide shields and helmets (Bandelier 1890:154). While arrows and bison hide shields or helmets are missing from the “Warrior’s Grave” in Room 178 at Aztec Ruins, the stone club or hatchet is present, and it seems the large coil basket was the shield of the time. “The Warrior before and immediately after his military enterprise was almost a sacred being” (Bandelier 1890:153). Bandelier also cites a story about how Coronado was injured by rocks thrown from the top of the pueblo buildings at Hauicu and the discovery of rocks on top of the roofs of the buildings (Bandelier 1890:154–155). He states the following in his description of the Pueblo people: “As a general rule. Changes of location were common and easy; hence the great number of ruins to-day. They indicate, and I cannot enough insist upon this fact, numerous shiftings, and not a large simultaneous population” (Bandelier 1890:155): Although never clearly defined, a certain solidarity existed between all the villages, of whatever language or geographical position. The tie was very nearly unconscious, and it made itself felt only in the hours of greatest need, at what might be termed supreme moments. It originated from community of customs, organization, and creed. It did not prevent inter tribal squabbles, it was not formulated by any compact of the nature of league or confederacy. The Spaniards felt its force several times, and for the last time in 1680. This tie, which acknowledged the beliefs of all the Pueblos to be one, and which hinted at a community of origin too, was quite as much a product of necessity as of anything else. It was also the result of contrast in condition between the village Indians and the roving tribes surrounding them, and constantly threatening more or less their existence. (Bandelier 1890:163–164)

Summary

The interaction between violence, climate, and ideology had a direct effect on the Chaco Phenomenon. This is best summarized by Yoffee (2007:171) who suggests that the combination of its ceremonial nature and the series of droughts starting in the 1100s eventually led to its decline. “The severe drought not only exacerbated the problems of producing food in the canyon and the flow of supplies into Chaco but also doubtless presented a theological problem for a belief system that guaranteed the harmony of the universe and the prosperity of congregants.” Looking specifically at the migration away from Chaco Canyon, Benson supports a migration pattern in which people were moving to establish new communities, such as Salmon Ruin and Aztec Ruins, but maintaining ties with Chaco Canyon. The continuity of the sites suggests that migration away from Chaco Canyon did not mean “abandonment” of the Chaco ideals. Additionally, there is still little evidence of violence during this period; however as mentioned above, before and after this period, there were numerous massacres. The relationship between climate change and violence, a cross-cultural analysis of violent encounters at or around periods of References 157 climatic instability, reveals that migration plays a significant role in the presence or absence of violence and that it is often outsiders who are targeted during times of stress. The model that this research follows is the one presented by Kantner who argues for the importance of understanding the role that political competition would have played in the social collapse of the Chaco culture. “This model does not deny the importance of the physical environment in stimulating and influencing change, but emphasizes the causal role of human propensities rather than external conditions” (Kantner 1996:93).

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Beginning with the initial excavations of Pueblo Bonito and the discovery of the elaborate burial in Room 33, the importance of the site has been highlighted (Pepper 1908, 1909, 1920). Looking at the burials, it seems likely that there were individuals in the Greater Southwest, at least at the height of Pueblo Bonito, who possessed the authority to reduce intragroup and much of the intergroup hostility. The goal of this book is to complement and expand upon this prior archaeological research to help shed light on the role rise and decline of the Chaco Phenomenon. As Pérez (2006:139) states, the Pueblo Southwest “experienced environmental degradation, food shortage, stress, violence and population movement.” These stressors are relatively well known due to the well-documented cultural and environmental changes over time and across micro-regions in the ancient Southwest (Benson et al. 2007). These changes may in fact correlate with shifting periods of peace and conflict (LeBlanc1999 ; Lekson 1999, 2015; Wilshusen and Ortman 1999). However, without the biological data on what humans were actually experi- encing in terms of broken bones, pathologies, and changing demographic profiles, these propositions about violence and peaceful periods cannot be fully understood. Yet, we must hope that the human skeletal remains from Chaco Canyon will in the not too distant future be repatriated to tribal authorities in the Southwest. Before this occurs however, we need to continue to generate systematic bioarchaeological studies that look at fully articulated human remains (i.e., complete burials) from across the Ancestral Pueblo world. According to Martin and colleagues (2013), bioarchaeological studies such as this differ from descriptive osteological reports or quantitative presentations of various metric and nonmetric frequencies derived from analysis of the burials. Bioarchaeology as a methodology integrates a wealth of burial data within a much larger and richly detailed context in order to interpret underlying factors that are correlated or associated with human morbidity and mortality. Bioarchaeology also integrates theory, method, and data in ways that prior osteological studies failed to do. This more contemporary approach to osteological studies affords opportunities for explanation and interpretation that is much more difficult with descriptive

osteological studies that fail to integrate the data with the layered context from which burials are found. Studies that seek to integrate evidence of interpersonal violence that results in nonlethal traumatic injury or death augment the growing literature on theories about the origin and nature of violence in human groups. Identifying (in a predictive way) the individuals, in a particular culture, that are at most risk for violent interactions and early death is an important part of being able to intervene in or prevent the use of violence today. These are global concerns with potentially dire consequences for the future of humans, particularly in places where there are hierarchical political processes and marginalized groups. Add to this increasing climatic unpredictability and increasingly scarce and unequally distributed resources, and one can better understand the proliferation of secular warfare, migration, and increasing numbers of refugees across the world today. Anthropology with its integration of theory, method, and data has the potential to be an important voice in how to predict and prevent both inequality and use of violence. Violence is crucial to understanding social control and elite identity because violent encounters are, in almost all of their expressions, related to cultural ideology, social inequality, and differential access to power. The existence of a hierarchy at Pueblo Bonito may have been able to suppress some violence, especially among people interred in the site, but there was still evidence of interpersonal violence and biological stress, which suggested that the extent of control was limited. However, analysis of the second potential regional center, Aztec Ruins, also suggested some indication of an elite class. This was evident in the fact that there were more males with slightly higher rates of cranial trauma and the presence of a male burial with elaborate grave goods. The problem, however, is that this male was not overly robust, and most of the males at the site had less developed entheses than the males in Room 33. The differences in the bodies, however, may be a result of how status was achieved. It is possible that the individuals at Aztec Ruins were members of an established elite structure and thus did not engage in the same status-seeking activities as the individuals at Pueblo Bonito. It could also mean that though the sites at Aztec Ruin were built to revitalize the role of Chaco Canyon as an integral center of the Chaco Phenomenon, they were not as successful as their predecessor was. So based on the bioarchaeological evidence, it is unclear what role Aztec Ruins played. While there appears to be social control at Chaco Canyon, it is less certain if this same control is present at Aztec Ruins. Either way, the social control was not sufficient to create a what Stephen Lekson was originally labeled “Pax Chaco” (Lekson 1992) at Chaco Canyon and “Pax Aztec” (Lekson 2015) at Aztec Ruins, as there was still sufficient conflict present in the region to indicate neither regional center was completely peaceful. The power or authority of these high-status individuals was limited, and they likely yielded influence over the region through ideology rather than strict political control and had the authority to reinforce that control. Aztec Ruins during the Pueblo III period was attempting to maintain or reestablish Chaco power and hierarchy of control, but the continuing drought, possible arrival of new groups, and creation of a new ideology resulted in it being less successful. Evidence of this is supported by the turmoil in the rest of the Pueblo world Why Is Chaco Unique? 165 during this period, such as the massacre sites and defensive architecture suggestive of warfare (Billman et al. 2000). What worked at Chaco did not work at Aztec Ruins, a finding that was supported by recent research by Lekson 2012( :603) who stated “Aztec could not perpetuate Chaco’s success, and the Pueblo experiment in political power ended with political and spiritual turmoil, violence, warfare, drought, and out-migration.” The importance of ideology during and after the Chaco Phenomenon was seen in the landscape, the architecture, and the burials. It may be that the downfall of the Chaco Phenomenon was the first shift in a cultural ideology or worldview. Although it was not directly related, and in fact nearly 300 years after the height of Pueblo Bonito at the end of the Pueblo III and the beginning of the Pueblo IV period (AD 1300–1350), the new ideology centered on the katsina also developed (Adams 1991; Schaafsma 2000; Van Dyke 2009).

Why Is Chaco Unique?

It would seem it is because of how rigid the system of social control was in the canyon (Hegmon et al. 2008; Nelson et al. 2012). As discussed in Chap. 8, the people living in the Mimbres region also had to deal with shifting climatic conditions (Nelson et al. 2012), and as a result, they appear to have developed a system of social control (Baustian 2015). This was important because, as mentioned earlier in the book, the katsina religion was different from the ideology that had been associated with the Chaco Phenomenon and supported by this study, which is a system of political complexity and social control that was maintained with ritual, ideology, and violence. Finally, as was highlighted in Chap. 8, these findings raise questions concerning our notions of violence and peace as the ambiguous terms they are. For example, while homicides, murders, and massacres appear less frequently in the archaeological record during some temporal phases, other indicators of interpersonal violence are still present such as the likelihood of raiding and taking captives, nonlethal violence directed against males and females, and increasing signs of poor health (Martin et al. 2001). “It is important to consider violence as something far more complex than merely the absence of peace” (Pérez 2006:33). Thus, during these so- called times of peace in the ancient Southwest, there is abundant evidence that interpersonal violence and nonlethal violence were still present. Social inequality as it is reflected in the presence of pathological conditions, activity-related changes to the skeleton, and trauma are powerful indicators of the lived experience of individuals (Stodder and Palkovich 2012). Collectively these changes to the skeleton reveal the pressures that community members as a whole faced. Use of these kinds of data on violence, inequality, and social control can anchor interpretations about the effects of particular kinds of political decisions, architectural arrangements, and changes in the availability of resources had on individuals in a society. Violence is part of a complex set of behaviors that humans use to solve problems that they perceive that 166 10 Conclusion they have. Seen in this light, violence is a crucial part of the behavioral repertoire that humans draw on to legitimate their needs and actions. It is neither an abnormal nor a necessarily negative notion that violence is part of everyday life in most cultures across time and space (Ember and Ember 1997). Hopefully the information in this book conveys the complexity of social control, by highlighting how social groups build identities and cement ideologies to bring communities together for common goals. In the Southwest, I have suggested that some of the strategies used included the use of nonlethal and lethal violence which was instructive because it provided a way to explain what the motivations for some forms of violence may have been. Just as the various sectarian wars continue to be waged in Afghanistan and Syria in modern times, what the past revealed is that violence was a powerful part of the full behavioral repertoire that humans used to control, coerce, and sanction large groups of people. What is needed is for more data on the ways that nonlethal violence was used in conjunction with other behaviors such as cooperation and control to produce and maintain particular kinds of ideologies. Studies that can look at a range of factors, from the cultural context to the biological impacts, are likely to be far more instructive than more narrowly conceived projects. Additionally, long chronologies, which are uniquely available to bioarchaeologists, provide a record of pain and hardship that can be correlated with other aspects of the environmental and cultural landscape.

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A pathological conditions, 108 Aggregation, 72 traumatic injuries, 109 Ancestral Pueblo, 2, 3, 12, 20 Biodistance, 131 cultures, 25 Bread basket, 135 Pecos Classification, 24, 25 San Juan Basin, 23 Archaic, 19, 20 C Athabascan cultures Cannibalism, 47, 50, 52 Athabascan, 31 Chaco Canyon, 3, 4, 6, 10–12, 87, 95, 103, language, 30 111, 120, 128, 130, 132 Aztec Ruins, 63–67, 96–98, 112, 113, Aztec Ruins, 63–67 115, 132, 164 Chaco Phenomenon, 61–63 Aztec Ruins-No Provenience, 112 complexity, 138 elites, 139 influence, 136 B leadership structure, 139 Basketmaker, 24, 25 migration, 156 Bioarchaeological profile, 83–98 Peñasco Blanco, 60 methodology, 84 Pueblo Bonito, 60 reconstructing regional center, 63, 67 population demographics, 84–86 social control, 164 site and mortuary context, 83, 84 symbolism, 65 site complexity and demography, 86, 87 trade networks, 65 Aztec Ruins, 96–98 Una Vida, 60 Kin Bineola, 93, 97 Chaco culture La Plata sites, 95, 96 social collapse, 157 Peñasco Blanco, 91, 92 Chaco Halo, 61 Pueblo Bonito, 87–91 Chaco Phenomenon, 84, 93, 99, 103, Pueblo del Arroyo, 92, 93 109–111, 117, 120, 127, 128, 132, Wingate sites, 94, 95 136, 137, 156 Bioarchaeological studies, 163 analogous habitation sites, 3 Bioarchaeology, 163 Ancestral Pueblo, 3 Biocultural, 6, 10 Chaco Canyon as integral center, 164 Biocultural identity, 104 ideology, 165 activity differences, 106–108 mortuary context/burial practices, 61 dietary quality and access, 104–106 nature of leadership, 138–140

Chaco Phenomenon (cont.) I not so peaceful, 136, 138 Ideology, 47, 51, 52, 164, 165 escalation of violence, 136 importance, 165 influence of Chaco Canyon, 136 violence, 153 Pax Chaco, 137 coercive control, 154 Peñasco Blanco, 136 gambling system, control, 154 Pueblo Bonito, 136, 137 HRAF, 153 radiocarbon dating, 137 katsina, 155 rise and decline, 163 massacre events, 154 San Juan Basin, 62, 63 migration pattern, 154 social control, 46, 47, 165 Pueblo Revolt, 156 symbolic nature, 62 social organization, 154 violence, 4–6 Immigration, 146 Climate change, 156 Athabascan cultures, 146, 149 Clovis Culture, 19 Chipewyan sites, 148 Commoners, 138 Dena’ina sites, 147 Cranial trauma, 116, 118, 119, 134, 164 effective temperature, 147 Cribra orbitalia, 104–106, 112, 115 impact of migrants, 150–153 Cumulative trauma disorders (CTD), 107 material culture, 149 mobile hunter-gatherers, 146, 147 Northern Athabascan, D characteristics, 148 Direct violence, 44 Sinagua culture, 149 subarctic groups, 147 volcanic eruption, 149 E Eastern Pueblo, 71 Elites, 127, 129–133, 138 K at Chaco Canyon, 139 Katsina (kachina), 165 evidence, 128 Kin Bineola, 93, 97, 114, 119, 132 archaeological and mortuary data, violence, 135 129–131 bioarchaeological data, 131–133 Entheses, 107, 108 L La Plata sites, 95, 96, 132

G Gambling M Gambler’s House, 49 Macaw Clan, 131 White House, 48 Maize (Corn), 20 Greater Southwest, 3–4 Malnutrition, 104 Ancestral Pueblo, 23–26 Migration, 72 Athabascan cultures, 30–32 Mogollon, 27–29 Chaco Phenomenon (see Chaco Mortuary context, 83, 84 Phenomenon) Mulakwe, 131 Hohokam, 26, 27 Musculoskeletal disorders (MSD), 107 Mogollon, 27–29 Musculoskeletal stress markers Salado and Sinagua, 29–30 (MSMs), 107

H N Hohokam, 26, 27 Navajo, 49, 50 Human Relations Area Files (HRAF), 153 Nutrition, 103–105, 111, 113 Index 171

O Social control on body, 109, 110 Occupational stress markers (OSM), 107 dietary access and quality, Osteoarchaeology, 7, 8 111–113 Osteobiography, 103 differential patterns of activity, 113 entheseal development, 114, 115 pathological conditions, 115 P robusticity, 113, 114 Paleo-Indian, 19 traumatic injury, 115–117, 119, 120 Panfacial fracture, 120 Social control, decline, 146–156 Pax Aztec, 164 ideology, 153 Pax Chaco, 110, 134, 137, 164 coercive control, 154 Peace, 51, 52, 163, 165 gambling system, control, 154 Peñasco Blanco, 91, 92 HRAF, 153 Perimortem trauma, 117, 137 katsina, 155 Porotic hyperostosis, 104–106, 112, 113, massacre events, 154 115, 117 migration pattern, 154 Postcranial injuries, 116 Pueblo Revolt, 156 Pueblo, 30, 32, 50 social organization, 154 Pueblo Bonito, 87, 88, 103, 109–113, 119, immigration, 146 120, 129, 137, 164, 165 Athabascan cultures, 146, 149 excavations, 163 Chipewyan sites, 148 Room 33, 88–90, 113–115, 119, 129, 130 Dena’ina sites, 147 west, 90, 91 effective temperature, 147 Pueblo del Arroyo, 92, 93, 115 impact of migrants, 150–153 trauma, 134 material culture, 149 mobile hunter-gatherers, 146, 147 Northern Athabascan, R characteristics, 148 Reorganization, 73, 74 Sinagua culture, 149 Ritual Sacrifice, 47, 48 subarctic groups, 147 volcanic eruption, 149 Social inequality, 164 S Social theory, 7, 8 Salado, 29–30 Spatial and temporal context San Juan Basin, 23, 62, 63 Chaco Canyon, 74, 75 Sinagua, 29–30 La Plata River, 77 Social control, 127, 165 Peñasco Blanco, 76 Chaco Phenomenon, 46, 47 Pueblo Bonito, 74 complexity, 166 Pueblo del Arroyo, 76 debt, 48 Spine injuries, 117 definition, 41–43 Stature, 105 direct violence, 44 Structural violence, 45 gambling, 48 Navajo, 49, 50 peace and war, 51, 52 T prestige items, 48 Transegalitarian, 42 public executions, 47, 48 Pueblo, 50 ritual sacrifice, 47–48 V structural violence, 45 Violence trauma as indicator, 133–136 biocultural, 10 US Southwest, 43 cultural ideology, 9 violent, 43, 44 direct, 44 witch killings, 47, 48 ideology, 164 172 Index

Violence (cont.) theory-centered approaches, 10 interpersonal, 164 US Southwest, 4–6 nonlethal, 166 and peace, 165 performance, 6 (see also Social W control) War, 51, 52 social inequality, 9 Western Pueblo, 71 structural, 45 Wingate sites, 94, 95, 132