Iconoclasm and Later Prehistory

Henry Chapman

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9781138038707
• eBook ISBN: 9781351709736
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Archaeology
• Index: Social Sciences

Iconoclasm, or the destruction of images and other symbols, is a subject that has significant resonance today. Traditionally focusing on examples such as those from late Antiquity, Byzantium, the Protestant Reformation and the French Revolution, iconoclasm implies intentioned attacks that reflect religious or political motivations. However, the evidence highlights considerable variation in intentionality, the types and levels of destruction and the targets attacked. Such variation has been highlighted in recent iconoclasm scholarship and this has resulted in new theoretical frameworks for its study.

This book presents the first analysis of iconoclasm for prehistoric periods. Through an examination of the themes of objects, the human body, monuments and landscapes, the book demonstrates how the application of the approaches developed within iconoclasm studies can enrich our understanding of earlier periods in addition to identifying specific events that may be categorised as iconoclastic.

Iconoclasm and Later Prehistory combines approaches from two distinct disciplinary perspectives. It presents a new interpretative framework for prehistorians and archaeologists, whilst also providing new case studies and significantly extending the period of interest for readers interested in iconoclasm.

1 Iconoclasm

Since the summer of 2014, the group calling itself ISIS¹ has been deliberately ­damaging regional heritage including museums, religious structures, archaeological sites and monuments. This heritage, which has included the World Heritage Sites of Nimrud and Palmyra, has led to international condemnation. Statues have been decapitated, and many ancient sites have been destroyed using explosives, bulldozers and sledgehammers, resulting in varying levels of annihilation. Far from hiding these activities, ISIS has used numerous methods, including social media, to publicise them to the world. The attacks have not all been about the material alteration of heritage, however. Monuments, such as the Roman amphitheatre at Palmyra, have been re-used as arenas for public mass executions. The drivers behind these and the countless other acts carried out by the group are complex and can be seen as substantially ideological, based on established principles and values, such that attacks and transformations were not isolated to religious sites and objects, but to the wider cultural heritage. Far from being acts of mindless vandalism, the intentions behind some of the destruction have been interpreted as aiming to “annihilate the local sense of belonging, and the collective sense of memory among local communities to whom the heritage belongs”, and achieved in conjunction with their wider “scorched earth policy” (Harmanşah 2015, 170). They are attacks on symbols and on how these symbols are understood and interpreted both by ISIS and by the international community. They are also aimed at erasing certain aspects of unacceptable history. As acts of iconoclasm, parallels can be drawn with destruction by the Taliban, such as of the rock-cut Buddha reliefs in the Bamiyan Valley in Afghanistan in March 2001 (Flood 2002). Here, varying justifications have been presented for the destruction, including an ideological need to destroy fake idols, a political response to the food shortages seen as resulting from UN sanctions and a reaction to western notions of value relating to ‘icons’ (Noyes 2013a, 169–170). Ultimately, these acts of iconoclasm reflect differing levels of physical alteration and focus on the transformation of symbols and, hence, of what they are seen to represent. They are meaningful.

Far from the politically sanctioned iconoclasm undertaken by groups such as the Taliban or ISIS, the concept of iconoclasm has also been applied to more subversive actions. A clear example of this is found in the long tradition of unauthorised graffiti, which is well documented throughout the historical past, as demonstrated by the thousands of examples from Pompeii (Benefiel 2010). Whether one ­considers the content of the graffiti itself, the beliefs or institutions targeted (e.g. Perreti et al. 1977), or the defiance implied by the unauthorised nature of the act, graffiti emphasises how iconoclasts can remain effectively anonymous and thus identified through material evidence alone. It also demonstrates how, unlike state sanctioned attacks, more localised levels of iconoclastic action can be seen as targeting the prevailing authority, and this is emphasised by the observation that the removal of graffiti by such an authority can itself constitute an act of iconoclasm (Kimvall 2012). It depends on an individual’s or group’s perspective and it is clear that such different perspectives will offer different interpretations.

Iconoclasm is commonly associated with the destruction or alteration of material culture and has consequently been studied by art historians and, though to a far lesser extent, archaeologists, where the focus has typically been on historical periods. From a more methodological perspective, where the word iconoclasm has been used, it has been focused on the practice of archaeology rather than the material being studied. For example, in the 1970s, Atkinson referred to a “phase of iconoclasm” when writing about the impact of radiocarbon dating on exposing the apparent “falsity of much of the former picture or model of British prehistory” (Atkinson 1975, 176). Within heritage studies, ideas of iconoclasm have been explored in some detail, highlighting the ways in which cultural heritage, and its destruction, can be used for political purposes (e.g. Harrison 2009). A growing awareness of the social, political and economic roles that heritage plays, particularly within areas of unrest, has led to concerns about how different traditions, ideals and values mean that sites of heritage can frequently become the epicentres of cultural tension (Probst 2012). In this context, notions of ‘preservationism’ have been criticised as being exclusive and unhelpful (e.g. Holtorf 2005), with the argument that acts of destruction or loss can be seen as being part of the substance of heritage (Holtorf 2006).

Iconoclasm typically centres on differences in beliefs, ideals and values, and is interpreted within the context of an assumed motivation behind acts of breakage. It can occur as state-sanctioned action or, more subversively, to reflect defiance or to give voice to the otherwise silent. The motivations behind acts of destruction interpreted as iconoclastic are sometimes accessible directly from individuals or groups, or through documentary sources, which is perhaps why there has been such a focus on historical and contemporary periods. However, for other acts, we are reliant on the evidence of the resulting material culture in isolation. It is for this reason that an exploration of the concepts and ideas stemming from research on iconoclasm is so relevant for the prehistoric past where, in most cases, we are reliant on just the material evidence. Within this context, this book serves two purposes. Its first is to apply the theoretical frameworks that have emerged from iconoclasm research to the study of later prehistory in order to explore and demonstrate how these enrich the ways in which we ask questions of, and interpret, the period. By doing this, the second purpose of the book is to provide a foundation from which further research in this area can be conducted and then applied to other areas of archaeological investigation.

Making sense of iconoclasm

Iconoclasm is a word that belies any straightforward definition. Whilst ­etymologically relating to the destruction (-clasm) of imagery (icons), its wide usage has led to numerous debates about its meaning (e.g. Boldrick and Clay 2007). A useful starting point, therefore, is to examine how the concept has been used by scholars in relation to different historical periods, particularly because certain periods have become synonymous with the word. The period from the late seventh to the middle of the ninth century in Byzantium has been termed the ‘iconoclast era’ (Brubaker and Haldon 2011) and, in Europe, the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century and the Puritan iconoclasm in the seventeenth century might be viewed in a similar light. However, the literature on iconoclasm extends far more broadly (e.g. Kolrud and Prusac 2014). For the purposes of understanding the idea of iconoclasm from historical examples, the following section provides examples from Antiquity, early medieval Byzantium, the Protestant Reformation of the early modern period, revolutionary France and from more recent and contemporary events. This provides a foundation for drawing out specific themes and observations in the ways in which iconoclasm is both understood and studied, enabling a clearer definition of terms that can be explored in relation to later prehistory.

Iconoclasm in Antiquity

Within the Classical world, the frequency and types of iconoclastic actions vary considerably both chronologically and geographically. At a general level, and with a focus on Late Antiquity, these acts can be grouped into two principal foci. The first reflects an apparently religious focus, as demonstrated by the image controversies relating largely to early Christian iconoclasts during this period. The second relates to a more politically driven type of breakage focusing on damnatio memoriae, or the erasure of the memory of an individual.

During Late Antiquity, a range of destructive acts to statues, images and buildings is typically associated with tensions between the earlier pagan beliefs and the rise of Christianity. Although Christianity was not legalised and imperially sanctioned until the first half of the fourth century, from the second century onwards, the relationship between imagery and religious belief became increasingly complex. This stemmed from interpretations of verses of the Old Testament, and was most clearly expressed in the Second Commandment, which contrasted with existing Roman traditions. In numerous cases, the expression of such beliefs was demonstrated through acts of destruction of pagan images and sacred sites, including images, statues and buildings. It is, however, inappropriate to consider this as universal (Saradi-Mendelovici 1990; Jacobs 2010), as the occurrence, nature and apparent ferocity of these attacks varied considerably through time and in different locations. However, some general patterns can be considered.

The breakage of images and statues during the image controversies of Late Antiquity appears to have been highly selective. This is reflected in the choice of images to attack where the representations of certain deities were seen as more ­problematic than others, as indicated at the mithraeum of Strasbourg-Koenigshoffen in France (see Sauer 2014). Selectivity is also reflected in the choices made over the level of destruction; from statue toppling or total annihilation through to much more targeted or discrete modifications. Such selective iconoclasm might have been pragmatic in terms of effort, but it is likely that there was more to it than just practicalities because certain body parts were repeatedly targeted over others. Attacks to the face frequently include the gouging out of eyes, but sometimes also the removal of the other sensory organs. Decapitation was also relatively common, as were attacks to the hands, feet and limbs, sometimes in conjunction with damage to the face; acts which “robbed the images of their ability to see and act” (Sauer 2014, 17). It might be noted that such aggression towards statues and other images were in many cases responses to the perceived power of the object, manifesting some level of metaphysical power or presence (see Prusac 2014 for a detailed summary). Essentially, beyond notions of idolatry, the images themselves were considered threatening, dangerous and offensive and thus needed to be neutralised. Other attacks appear to have been driven by other concerns, such as the frequent mutilation of the genitals of nude statues and imagery.

The notion of objects holding a perceived presence or power extends to the possibility that fragments might be considered to retain meaning and value following breakage. Using examples from late Roman Britain, Ben Croxford (2003) suggested alternative explanations for the archaeological evidence of fragmented statues. Following from ideas relating to fragmentation (Chapman 2000), he emphasised how the act of destruction creates new objects that can serve new purposes; in some instances, breakage could be directed at, or result in, the creation of new, smaller objects which, in terms of presence, might have been subsequently used as amulets or talismans. The retention of such items would explain the survival of bronze items where the remainder of the statue might have been recycled. In terms of the archaeological record, the positive selection of certain objects, such as fingers or heads, would result in different depositional patterns to those of non-selected remains, and that the discard of such objects might, in some instances, have more in common with votive practices (Croxford 2003).

In many instances during Late Antiquity, tensions relating to imagery were relieved through alternate means. Rather than destroying or mutilating some statues and temples, some appear to have been re-appropriated. There are frequent examples where portraits, rather than being broken, were altered by carving Christian symbols onto them. For example, a series of portraits excavated at Ephesos had crosses carved into their foreheads (Jacob 2010) and there are many examples from across the Mediterranean of pagan objects being Christianised by the carving of symbols, such as the Chi-Rho, or words from religious texts (e.g. Grinsell 1986; Sauer 2014). Such activities might have permitted the reuse of imagery and temples, but other approaches were also used. For example, offensive imagery might have been neutralised by its removal from sacred sites, and previously pagan sites might have been exorcised and rededicated (Prusac 2014).

Whilst patterns are determined by the survival of the evidence, certain regions such as the eastern Mediterranean displayed greater levels of breakage than others. Such differences might merely reflect a more gentle transition to Christianity in other regions, or perhaps variations in the frequency of use of imagery regionally, the differential use of perishable materials for the creation of imagery or contrasting image traditions. Such variations in tradition would consequently mean that interpretations of iconoclasm might equally be applied to sacred trees or woodland, particularly for regions with aniconic traditions (Sauer 2014). Hence, iconoclastic attacks would include those to a much wider range of symbolic object. Within the context of the veneration of fire central to Zoroastrianism in Persia, for example, iconoclasm would be characterised by destruction through extinguishing (e.g. Gaddis 2005). Approaches to the images controversies during late Antiquity were clearly varied, with physical transformations of objects and places including high levels of breakage, selective damage and alterations through the carving of Christian symbols and text. In other instances, physical transformation was seemingly replaced by the relocation of an object away from the sacred space to secular or less publicly visible contexts. Similarly, in instances of rededication, this might have been done through ritualistic acts that altered the meaning of a site such as a temple without the need for any physical alteration.

In addition to iconoclasm focused on religious icons, structures and sites, attacks also focused on the representations of individuals. Within the Roman world, the destruction of the memory of an individual was considered perhaps one of the most severe imposed in Roman law (Vittinghoff 1936; Mustakallio 1994; Varner 2004; Flower 2006). The condemnation of memory, or damnatio memoriae, could be sanctioned by the Roman Senate on those deemed to be disgraced, such as traitors. Whilst both the precise meaning of the term and its actual use in Antiquity as presented by literary evidence are contested (Flower 1998), related practices include attacks on imagery and inscriptions relating to individuals. The practice was commonly politically motivated and normally associated with Roman elites and emperors and applied posthumously, and could include the erasure of the individual’s name from official records or modifications to standing structures. In some instances, statues were merely removed from public display, whereas in others, they were destroyed or modified to erase the identity of the individual. It has been suggested that part of the reason for attacks on images stemmed from their use as substitutes for individuals who were not in attendance at events such as trials (Grabar 1968, 64), focusing again on the presence of the image, particularly prior to the latter part of the second century ad (Prusac 2014, 43).

In some cases, where multiple individuals were displayed within the same image, just the offending individual might be removed, as in the case of the Arch of the Argentarii at the Forum Boarium in Rome (Kiilerich 2014). Here, the erasure of one individual’s face and name is conspicuous in its absence and it seems that the blank space left ironically provides a striking and deliberate reminder of the person who was intended to be forgotten. Similarly, in numerous inscriptions, the erasure of particular names from inscriptions provides a similar noticeable gap. Following the assassination of the emperor Domitian in ad 96 coinage and metal statues of him were melted down, monuments were pulled down and his name was removed from public records. Not all acts appear to have focused on the total annihilation of his memory, however; for example, an inscription honouring him was erased and left in situ on the via Domitiana near Puteoli, Naples, for a number of years prior to the re-use of the stone (Flower 2001). It seems that, although the removal of the inscription was aimed at the erasure of Domitian’s memory, the continued display of the mutilated piece suggests something very different, providing a reminder of Domitian’s disgrace. Whilst it is possible that some acts of damnatio memoriae were more thorough and resulted in individuals being more effectively erased from history, it seems likely that the act of forgetting was actually very much the opposite. Such ostentatious erasures, in contrast with the total destruction of memory, indicate intentions to dishonour memory rather than to destroy it (Hedrick 2000, xii; see also Kiilerich 2014).

Not all acts of damnatio memoriae resulted in such conspicuous erasure. The heads of some apparently decapitated statues were not always fully mutilated, allowing them to remain identifiable (Croxford 2003, 88). In some instances, portraits were re-carved to depict a different individual, although such acts of replacement are difficult to define as iconoclastic and it is noteworthy that the practice of re-cutting statues during the Roman period was common practice, as noted by Pliny the Elder (Historia Naturalis 35, 4). For the emperor Domitian, numerous likenesses were actually re-carved and recycled to look like Nerva, who succeeded him, such as those from the Palazzo della Cancelleria in Rome (Last 1948). In many instances, distinctions between different interpretations remain unclear, as demonstrated by the example of the early third century ad emperor Elagabalus, recorded by Roman historian Cassius Dio.² For a range of factors, including his political conduct, religious behaviour and personal excesses, Elagabalus was killed in a latrine, his body stripped naked, dragged through the streets and placed into a sewer before being thrown into the Tiber. In an associated process of damnatio memoriae, his name was also removed fr...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• List of figures
• List of tables
• Preface
• 1 Iconoclasm
• 2 Breaking objects
• 3 Breaking bodies
• 4 Breaking monuments
• 5 Breaking landscapes
• 6 Iconoclasm and later prehistory?
• Bibliography
• Index