![]()
1
IT IS ALL IN THE MIND
The previous chapter focused on the definition of artifacts, and the position was advanced that âartifactâ is a status of objects rather than a kind of object. From this perspective, artifacts take on their status because they are incorporated into human temporality through action, language, or, as in the case of placing an object in a bag with a label, a combination of action and language. The theme of this chapter is the role that cognition plays in the artifact world. The essential question is the relation between artifacts as material objects in the world and the abstract representation of these objects as a concept in the mind. This is a problem that has been discussed for millennia, but a combination of developments in archaeological methods of artifact analysis and perspectives from cognitive science provides a new spin to this very old problem.
Categorizing artifacts, mental representations, and preferences
We can begin to approach the question of the relationship between artifacts and mental concepts by considering the relationship between artifact and text, which in turn leads to a consideration of archaeological classification. Although there are many reasons to reject the idea that artifacts and texts are equivalent (see discussion in Olsen 2010), it is nonetheless true that an essential challenge of archaeology is to transform material objects in the world into text, whether in the form of excavation reports, regional syntheses, or more thematic treatments. Even in the context of museum exhibits, where the objects themselves are present, these objects remain remote from touch and are embedded in a layout and associated with explanatory labels. The book Musée Préhistorique, published by Gabriel and Adrien de Mortillet in 1881, provides a vivid example of the relationship between museum exhibit and text, as the de Mortillets tried to fit the contents of a museum between the covers of a book (see Figure 1.1).
The essential task of the de Mortilletsâ MusĂ©e PrĂ©historique, and more generally of the enterprise of transforming objects into text, is the classification of the diverse and vast repertoire of material objects that provide the basis for the archaeological recovery of the past. Because archaeologists use artifacts to create texts that tell stories about the past, a major disciplinary focus is categorizing variation among artifacts. As described by James Ford, classifications of artifacts (specifically ceramics) âare designed to serve as measuring devices for culture historyâ (Ford 1954: 43; see discussion in Brown 1982). Ford clearly articulates that the goal of classification is to provide a basic tool for the writing of archaeology. The struggle for archaeologists is not the act of creating a typology in and of itself, a process that often proceeds in an ad hoc manner, but rather finding a consistent conceptual basis for such classification. Often archaeologists are led to disassociate seemingly functional aspects of an artifact versus those deemed symbolic in an effort that leads to a fracturing of the essential unity of the artifact as a material object.
Lurking behind debates about archaeological classification is the fundamental question of the relationship between the artifact and an abstract mental representation or concepts. In many contexts, we can correlate archaeological artifacts with named types applied to artifacts in their original cultural contexts. Thus, we know that large basins with flaring rims were known as Kylix Craters in classical Greece, and that in Old Kingdom Egypt conical bread molds were known as bedja (for Greek ceramics, see Kanowski 1984; for the bedja, see Chazan and Lehner 1990) (see Figure 1.2). But do all cultures have such named categories, and what of the archaeological interest in variability within a named artifact type, such as the differences between the crude bedja of the Old Kingdom and the more refined variants found in the Middle Kingdom? Ultimately, the existence of named types leaves little doubt that for some artifacts, there was an abstract linguistic representation, but how far can this be extended?
Albert Spaulding made a somewhat looser statement in observing the goal of typology when he wrote that âwithin a context of quite similar artifacts, classification is a process of discovery of combinations of attributes preferred by the makers of the artifactâ (Spaulding 1953: 305; see discussion in Brown 1982). This statement makes no mention of linguistic categorization and does not posit that all people divide the artifact world into discreet types. According to Spaulding, the goal of the archaeologist is to capture the âpreferencesâ of the people who made artifacts in the past. âPreferenceâ is far less absolute than âtype,â but it still lands in the realm of cognition; after all, where else can preference lie than in the knowledge, skill, and action of the manufacturer? There are a number of reasons to take care in adopting Spauldingâs formulation. The first reason for caution is Spauldingâs emphasis on attributes. Approaching artifacts as collections of attributes is essential for the statistical analyses that are the mainstay of contemporary research. However, makers of the artifact might well have taken a far more holistic perspective. The second reason for caution is that while the emphasis on âmakersâ is welcome in moving us away from a focus on the static object, it is important to include not only processes of making, but also of using, when approaching the question of preferences. Indeed, it might be best to encompass making and using within a larger realm of engagement, the engagement that extends artifact status to objects. Nonetheless, Spaulding provides a very useful perspective on the cognitive aspect of artifacts, that artifacts reflect the preferences of their makers and users. We can stipulate that these preferences might in some contexts be linguistically codified, but this codification would build on a more broad-based phenomenon.
If we accept Spauldingâs formulation, the implication is that while the distinction between artifact/non-artifact might rest on identifying traces of physical action, for the classification within the realm of artifacts, archaeologists seek to identify preferences that are ultimately cognitive. By adopting âpreference,â we have moved away from the more restrictive framework of âtypesâ in understanding the cognitive processes underlying variation in the artifact world. But can we reconcile âpreferencesâ within the framework of âconcepts,â the term more commonly employed when considering the structure of abstract thought?
Concepts, trajectories, and the chaßne opératoire
There is no way to skirt the problem that the word âconceptâ has many meanings and that there is a range of philosophical approaches to concepts with a pedigree going back to Aristotle. Margolis and Laurence (1999) have reviewed the literature on concepts and identify five major schools of thought, of which three are most relevant to this discussionâclassical theory, prototype theory, and theory-theory (drawn from extended discussion in Chazan (2012)). The classical theory considers concepts as complex mental representations that can be defined in terms of a set of conditions. Artifact typologies fit with the structure of classical theory, as variability in material culture is parsed into clear divisions. A key critique of archaeological typology argues that categorization is emic, or internal to an individual and to a cultural context, whereas our methods of analysis are etic, external measures. Thus, it is not exactly clear whose concepts are expressed in an archaeological typology.
The prototype theory considers concepts to be representations âwhose structure encodes a statistical analysis of the properties their members haveâ (Laurence and Margolis 1999: 27). This approach has promise for archaeological analysis and can be applied to data sets generated by quantitative representations of variability. I suspect that this is the formulation that Spaulding would have been most comfortable with given his emphasis on attributes. A promising alternative or perhaps complementary perspective is offered by theory-theory. Theory-theory is rather vague in its approach to concepts, but in essence considers concepts in terms of mental representations guided by a mental theory. Much of the focus of theory-theory is the study of essentialism, the building of category membership based on hidden properties rather than observable properties. In a study of the cognition of very young children, the experimenters write, â[human] cognition involves disregarding external appearances and instead penetrating to underlying realities, seeking deeper levels of analysis, and grasping (or inventing) non-obvious essencesâ (Gelman and Wellman 1991: 214). One might initially consider that the search for hidden properties might make theory-theory poorly adapted for archaeological application. The quest for essences would seem very vulnerable to the emicâetic critique that is inherent to much of archaeological research given that we cannot speak to our subjects, let alone involve them in controlled experiments.
However, there is a route that does allow archaeologists access to theory-theory types of concepts. One way of identifying that a concept exists is that members of the group (in the case of artifacts, the group consists of objects) can be transformed in the same way or follow the same trajectory. Archaeologists have access to temporal trajectories in artifact manufacture and use. The identification of trajectories that underlie the variation of artifacts made and used at a given place and time allows us to define aspects of the concept world following the theory-theory approach. By looking at trajectories of manufacture and use, we can approach an understanding of the preferences that structure artifacts. These preferences are essentially the concepts (as defined by theory-theory) that underlie these objects.
The chaĂźne opĂ©ratoire approach to artifacts introduced in the previous chapter offers an approach that fits well with the theory-theory approach to concepts. The initial proposal of the chaĂźne opĂ©ratoire is attributed to Leroi-Gourhan, but he used this term only in passing without explication (Leroi-Gourhan 1964: 58â59). In recent years, archaeologists have adopted the chaĂźne opĂ©ratoire as a framework that recognizes the dynamic history of tool manufacture. The recognition of the dynamics of stone tool manufacture is not limited to European archaeology and is also at the root of the emergence of North American prehistory. Already in 1897, in a study of stone tools from the Potomac-Chesapeake region, William Henry Holmes recognized that stone tools go through stages of production from the raw material to the finished form of the tool (Holmes 1897: Figure 3). While there certainly is a degree of overlap between âreduction sequence,â as observed by Holmes, and chaĂźne opĂ©ratoire, there is also a critical distinction. The reduction sequence does not posit any cognitive process, but simply charts the stages in the toolâs emergence from a block of rock. For the chaĂźne opĂ©ratoire, integrating cognitive processes with the actions of manufacture and use are paramount. Within the framework of the chaĂźne opĂ©ratoire, two cognitive faculties are recognized: knowledge (connaissance) and skill (savoir faire) (see discussion and references in Chazan 1997). These two faculties have often been defined only in vague terms, but generally recognize a distinction between an idealized plan of action and the bodily enactment of this knowledge. It is critical to anchor the distinction between knowledge and skill in the framework of contemporary cognitive science, but before doing so it is useful to begin by illustrating how the chaĂźne opĂ©ratoire works in practice. Much of the debate over the application of the chaĂźne opĂ©ratoire in archaeology has taken place within the context of the archaeology of the Middle Paleolithic in Europe and the Middle Stone Age in Africa, the period roughly from 40,000 to 200,000 years ago. The stakes are particularly high in this context as stone tools offer one of the few avenues exploring the cognitive capacity of modern humans and Neanderthals. In the next section, we will follow the development of archaeological approaches to Middle Paleolithic and Middle Stone Age stone tools, with particular emphasis on the Levallois method. Named for a neighborhood on the outskirts of Paris, which is today the last stop on the Number 3 Metro line, where excavations yielded the first tools to be given this designation, the Levallois method allows us to examine what we can say about the people who lived along the Seine over 100,000 years ago.
Defining Levallois
In the initial stages of the development of Paleolithic archaeology, the dominant voice in the field was Gabriel de Mortillet, who was motivated by a political belief in what he called the âlaw of progressâ (de Mortillet 1883). Stone tools for de Mortillet were the material embodiment of the essentially progressive nature of humanity. One has to wonder at his optimism as he sorted through boxes of broken flints, but he was rapidly able to erect the skeleton of the chronology that still serves us today. In this chronology, unveiled at the Universal Exposition of 1867, the great expanse of the Paleolithic was divided into epochs based on types of stone tool industries. These industries were viewed by de Mortillet as steps in the progress of humanity, and at the same time were meant to capture the essence of the successive cultures that occupied prehistoric Europe. De Mortillet embraced the seeming contradictions of romanticism and belief in progress in a way that seems characteristic of the late nineteenth century. It might be telling that towards the end of his career, de Mortillet veered towards nationalistic chauvinism (de Mortillet 1900). In de Mortilletâs work, it is the external forces of national character working in tandem with the law of progress that give stone tools of a given epoch their given form. For de Mortillet, the fact that a person living in the past gave form to the artifacts he was amassing in his collection had little importance, because ultimately it was not the individual, but rather the abstract forces of history, that gave the tools their form.
Following de Mortilletâs death, the AbbĂ© Breuil excoriated his followers for ignoring stratigraphy in determining the chronological order of archaeological industries. Underlying this heated debate was a struggle between materialists and Jesuits for control over the study of human evolution. However, even as Breuil engaged in his anti-materialist polemic, he adopted much of de Mortilletâs approach to using stone tools to define industries. Like de Mortillet, Breuil looked for fossiles directeurs, an approach borrowed from paleontology. In the archaeological context, âdiagnosticâ stone tools replaced the fossils of organisms used...
