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INTRODUCTION
Ray Laurence
Cultural identity has become a prominent topic of discussion for both archaeologists and ancient historians (Webster and Cooper 1996; Graves-Brown et al. 1995; Dench 1995; Shennan 1989), which has drawn on the debates in anthropology, social theory and history (see, for example, Bentley 1989; Friedman 1994; Tonkin et al. 1989). The new-found interest in theory and interpretation has led to a fundamental questioning of the meaning of our evidence (see in particular Dench 1995; Cornell and Lomas forthcoming) and key concepts in the disciplines, for example Romanisation (see Webster and Cooper 1996). Both disciplines would appear to be altering the ways in which they conceive of the meaning of their objects of analysis, but in many cases these developments have seldom been communicated beyond the discipline in which they were originally defined (a notable exception is Webster and Cooper 1996)āhence we deliberately decided, at an early stage, to include contributions by both archaeologists and historians. The reasons for doing so were simple and should be obvious: the two groups of scholars had clearly become isolated through the definition of archaeologists as ānot historiansā from the 1970s onwards and with the main concern of study for the discipline of Roman archaeology in the UK as Roman Britain and the western provinces. Similarly, ancient historians had lost touch with their archaeological colleagues and expressed little or no interest in the study of the western provinces and even less interest in Roman Britain. (This may be too simplistic and there are obvious exceptions to the general rule.)
To bring participants from the two disciplines together, two sessions of the Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference in 1995 were given over to the topics of Romanisation and cultural identity, with a view to including both archaeologists and historians. However, the latter were discovered to be already booked to attend the Classical Association conference, held over the same weekend, so were in many cases absent from the discussion, but they were later invited to submit their contributions to the volume. (The lack of co-ordination and information exchange in the organisation of the two conferences in a way typifies the relationship between the two disciplines; depressingly, the same clash repeated itself in 1997.) The general principle of broadening the debate of cultural change is also reflected in the subject areas of the papers, so that the bookincludes the cultural meaning of the use of marble in Britain, field survey evidence from Sardinia, funerary inscriptions of gladiators and the use of landscape in the definition of identity, alongside the more traditional studies based on literary and archaeological sources. The wealth of material for the debate over the nature of cultural identity is vast. Currently we are seeing only a small fraction of the evidence and can look forward in the future to a greater integration of the material available, regardless of whether it is deemed to be āarchaeologicalā or āhistoricalā.
The papers in this volume draw on the tradition of both archaeology and ancient history to understand the process of change after Rome had come into contact with other cultures. Traditionally, this process of change has been known by the term āRomanisationā and has its origins in the early twentieth century (Hingley 1996; Freeman 1996). However, it should be noted that Romanisation has been shown to be a modern construct, as Woolf and Grahame point out in Chapters 8 and 10, to describe the penetration of material culture that we characterise as Roman into the provinces and the material world of barbarian Europe. Often, the absence of Roman material culture from a region of say Britain is seen in terms of resistance to the colonialism of Rome (see the assessment of Clarke 1996). Elsewhere the presence of a Roman material culture in a provincial context is regarded as a sign of assimilation or acculturation. The view set up is always one in which there is a dichotomy of the Roman colonial power and the conquered natives. Such a view is shown to be oversimplistic by the papers in the volume, because the construction of identity is a matter that does not simply happen or is observed to be in a state of happening. Instead an emphasis should be placed on the individualās use and construction of identity (Giddens 1984). Nor should we see the use or adoption of Roman material culture simplistically revolving around the dichotomies of Roman and native, resistance and acceptance, etc. All these conceptions can be seen to be embedded within the rhetoric of European imperialism from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (Gellner 1983; Hobsbawm 1990). What we find in the Roman Empire is a situation of greater complexity, in which individual agents have far greater choice over how they construct or present their identity within the context of Roman colonialism.
Key to any understanding of cultural identity within the Roman Empire is a clear conception of how the Romans viewed themselves and what made them distinctly Roman. This has been seen to be problematic for most ancient historians. āRomanā does not refer to a personās ethnicity, nation, linguistic group, or common descent, but refers directly to a common citizenship (Finley 1973, 47). This association of identity with citizenship has led numerous scholars to discuss Romanisation with reference to the extension of citizenship to the Italian allies in the context of the Social War of the first century BC (e.g. Crawford 1995). The reaction to Romanisation in the context of a grant of citizenship does not imply automatically an explanation of cultural change and the use of Roman material culture. The response to Rome even in Italy is varied, as Lomas showsin Chapter 5, in her discussion of the cities of Italy and urban development. Although all the free inhabitants of these cities were Roman citizens after the Social War, it is more difficult to see similar forms of cultural change in the fabric of their cities. Indeed, as I suggest below, there may well have been greater cultural value in maintaining a localised identity once all Italians had been granted the citizenship of Rome (see Dench 1995). Further, as Grahame argues in his analysis of Pompeian houses, the very concept of a Roman material culture could be in question, given that other aspects of identity as well as ethnicity, such as wealth or status, would have been emphasised through the deployment and manipulation of material culture.
Methodologically, the approaches to the evidence and the use of this evidence differ from earlier studies of either Romanisation or the production of identity. In many ways, the authors of the papers problematise the debate and point to the complexity of cultural change and the nature of identity in the Roman Empire. Braund concentrates on the self image of Rome in the provinces. To do this he focuses on the role of the governor and his entourage in a provincial setting. He argues that Rome and Romanness were presented to the inhabitants of the provinces through the actions of the governorāhence legislation was passed to control this image of Rome and to prevent the governor from abusing his power. Equally, Braund argues, the governorās identity or self was being tested in a unique context. As a governor he was placed in the dangerous position of holding absolute power which in the Roman Republic was associated with the rule of alien kings. It was for the governorās entourage to observe his actions; any that were seen as an abuse of power (e.g. the sack of Athens) would be viewed later as transgressive and unRoman. Normality in the provincial setting is clear: the governor acted justly and protected the provincials and can be seen to have been a key agent in the promotion of Roman cultural values, whilst accepting the presence of other cultural traditions. Such evidence in the source material points to a situation in which Rome recognised that cultural change was not of primary importance.
What was crucial, though, was the political control of the conquered provinces. A similar theme is pursued by van Dommelen in Chapter 3, in his paper based on field survey data from Sardinia. Rather than seeing the process of cultural change, in the aftermath of annexation, as a simple dichotomy between colonial power and native, the situation in Sardinia raises the issue of the presence of two colonial powers: Carthage and Rome. In the period following Roman conquest, 238 BC, the Sardinians did not adopt Roman forms of material culture but instead continued to adopt and import material that was distinctly Punic. In terms of control, we might read the situation of conquest as purely political, with little or no impact on the actual lives of the Sardinians. However, what we do find in the material record is a situation in which the use of material culture can be interpreted as a response to Roman conquest/ colonialism. Individual members of the local elite would appear to have chosen whether to co-operate and adopt Roman cultural forms or to continue as beforeto utilise their traditional cultural forms (Sardinian and Punic). This question of choice and the ability to be seen by the governor and his entourage as adopting a Roman identity may have been politically advantageous to the local elite. Thus van Dommelen replaces any notion of a dialectic or binary opposition of colonial power and native with a trilectic based on two colonial powers and a single native population. Inevitably with all forms of binary oppositionāus: them, civilised: barbarian, etc.āthere is inevitably an āotherā to be dealt with. Thus, to draw on concepts used in modern theoretical approaches to the city, we should abandon such simplistic binary oppositions in favour of positions of greater complexity that resist simplistic dualisms (Lefebvre 1991, 21ā67; summarised in Soja 1996, 8ā12). What we should remember here is that it was the interaction of the local elite with the governorās entourage that was the reality of direct contact between Roman and native in the provinces.
Following on from the Sardinian case study, Marshall undercuts the simplistic notions of cultural change that have characterised the dualism of civilised and barbarian in her study of Cyrene. Here she finds three defined identities: Roman, Greek and Libyan. These identities she points out are deployed to create the maximum cultural value, according to the context in which they are used. For example, as members of the Panhellenic league of the second-century AD, Cyrenaicans were consistently identified as Libyan. In contrast, the myth of Cyreneās foundation by Battus and the Cyrenaicansā subsequent history could be seen to emphasise their Greekness in opposition to the Libyans of the region to create a distinction and value for those who were not Libyan. However, to see this as a representation of cultural identity would be mistaken, since as Marshall points out the foundation myth found in both Callimachus and Pindar stresses the role of intermarriage between the Greek colonists (males) and the Libyan women. The existence of these two views of Cyrenaican identity as expressed via a mythology of city foundation would appear at first sight to be mutually exclusive. However, what is key is that this contradiction illustrates the flexibility of myths of foundation in the creation of identity and, moreover, how any cultural identity was constructed and that cultural identity cannot be simply read off as a given or āobjectiveā characteristic from our evidence.
The use of the urban landscape in shaping identity is at the fore of Lomasās treatment of city development in response to Roman imperialism in Italy. She shows how it is difficult if not impossible to generalise about the cultural development of towns in Italy in response to Roman conquest. She identifies as part of this response the development of the built environment, with particular emphasis on buildings for communal use, but she also notes that there is considerable regional variation that hinders us from seeing any general pattern in the evidence. However, it is clear that the pattern of variation cannot be established according to geographical factors (physical or economic); for example, Samnium and Sabinum are found to have had quite different responses to Roman conquest. The changes would appear to vary according to what had gone before and how individual cities renegotiated their relationship with Rome. Nowhereis this negotiation clearer than with reference to the cities with a Greek origin in southern Italy, which utilised the value of Greek culture at Rome to emphasise their own Greek origins locally, for example at Naples. This opens up the landscape of the city as a cultural artefact that can be used to express ideals of identity, not simply to the local community, but to visitors from further afield as well. However, the city forms only part of the picture: the rural landscape could equally be utilised to express ideals of power and ideology, as Petts points out in Chapter 6. Taking a region of Wessex that contains numerous prehistoric monuments, such as Silbury Hill, he addresses questions concerned with the use and cultural value of this landscape in the context of the Roman period. He demonstrates that the countryside cannot simply be viewed as an economic resource but was full of cultural meaning. Although there is considerable change in terms of agricultural practice and the building of a Roman road through the region, the major monuments from the past were respected, and towards the end of the period of Roman occupation they were reused for burial. Petts stresses that the value of the landscape and its cultural meaning would vary according to the individual viewer. Thus, in terms of cultural identity, we must bear in mind that there is no single way of reading the landscape or any other cultural object. All will depend upon what the viewer wishes to see or fears to see. Cultural identity can present an image of the inhabitants of a region, but that image is then reinterpreted by those viewing it, who need not be involved in the production of the image itself.
Such views of distinct cultures can be found in the accounts of Italyās geography by Strabo and others, as I show in Chapter 7. The bases for distinguishing these cultures for Strabo and other geographers were dress, customs, language and history. It is clear from the evidence that as part of the geographical project of describing or representing the known world Strabo made divisions of space according to his perception of ethnic groups. A similar division can also be found in the eleven Augustan regions of Italy, which associate some groupsāfor example the Ombriciāwith the region of Umbria. This linkage between a distinct ethnic group and a defined territory can be shown to be an ancient construct. Thus these perceptions of ethnic groups in Italy should not be read literally as a description of the peoples of Italy, because the ethnic characteristics and their associated territories are given to the peoples of Italy by outsiders, such as Strabo. Instead, we should view the texts as a way in which the ancients characterised other peoples and created distinctions between regions and peoples in Italy and the Mediterranean.
The problems of linking an ethnic group with a territory are highlighted in Chapter 8 with reference to Roman Britain. The context here, as Woolf stresses, is quite different from the Roman Mediterranean, which was characterised by cities with small territories of 100ā200 square miles; in contrast the city territories of Roman Britain were on average about 2,000 square miles in area. This leads into the question of the nature of the socio-political unit that controlled such a large territory. Clearly, a model of the city drawing on theMediterranean pattern would be inappropriate for Britain. Instead, Woolf suggests that, by drawing upon the social cultural patterning of early medieval Ireland, we are able to put forward an alternative model that stresses the clan and the chief as the basic socio-political units. Given Romeās use of the local aristocracy in the local government of the provinces, these units would have been incorporated into the government structure of the new province. The importance and significance of these social formations can be seen in the context of the contact between native chief and Roman governor, as defined in Braundās Chapter 2. Using the model from Ireland, Woolf argues that it would take only a small number of the elite to influence cultural change and the adoption of Roman culture. The principles of this he makes clear by reference to the survival of Romance languages in southern Wales. The elite can be clearly seen to have been Romanced, which had the knock-on effect of ensuring the linguistic survival of Romance elements in the generations that followed. Again, we see the elite making a choice to become more Roman, or what they perceived to be more Roman, as mediated to them by the governor of Britain and his entourage.
Often Roman Britain has been presented as very different from the rest of the Roman Empire. It lacks the great monumental buildings, seen so clearly in the Mediterranean. This has caused many archaeologists and historians to view Britain as simply different from the rest of the empire; after all, there are no surviving buildings to rival the Maison CarrƩe in southern France. This view is fundamentally questioned by Isserlin in Chapter 9. He points out that archaeology in Britain has failed to see the potential of the analysis of public architecture in connection with the development of the province. From his analysis of the importation of marble into the province of Britannia, Isserlin puts forward a powerful argument for the presence of large monumental building in the first two generations after the invasion of southern Britain. For example, he points out that the temple of Claudius at Colchester in terms of size is comparable to the Maison CarrƩe in southern France. The marble for such projects was imported and can be seen to have been prefabricated. What is clear is that in the pre-Antonine period marble was being imported into Britain from a variety of quarries in the Mediterranean. Local quarries also developed in response to the demand for this new building material, which should be seen as marking buildings as Roman. This use of marble, often neglected in the past in Roman Britain, needs to be placed in a contemporary context from the Mediterranean. We should not be deluded by comparing such early developments with say the use of marble in Lepcis Magna. Instead, Pompeii may offer a model of how marble was used during the late first century AD. The study of this material being conducted by Clayton Fant and Kate Welch shoul...