Factional Competition and Political Development in the New World (New Directions in Archaeology)

This book examines the role of factional competition in the evolution of political systems in the ancient New World. It analyzes how competing factions within local groups and between regions sparked the emergence of social inequality, changing patterns of chiefly authority, the formation and expansion of states, and the rise of institutional specialization. The contributors isolate the sources of factional competition in the kinship and political structures of New World societies. They explore the opportunities and constraints presented by different mediums of competition such as feasting, gift-giving, and warfare, and analyze the relationship of factional competition to class struggle, ethnic identity, and resource shortages. They also define the evidence left by factional competition in the archaeological record. Recognizing the multiplicity of factions and interests that existed in prehistoric societies, the contributors suggest that theories of strict systemic or structural causality are inadequate for the analysis of social change. Instead, they offer studies that integrate agent-centered and system-centered views. These new insights into premodern political systems, the dynamics of social change, and the evolution of social complexity in the New World will interest archaeologists, anthropologists, political scientists, and historians.

NEW DIRECTIONS IN ARCHAEOLOGY

Factional competition and political development in the New World Editors Francoise Audouze Centre de Recherehes Archeologiques, Meudon, France Richard Bradley Department of Archaeology, University of Reading Joan Gero Department Carolina

of Anthropology,

University

of

South

Tim Murray Department of Archaeology, La Trobe University, Victoria, Australia Colin Renfrew Department of Archaeology, University of Cambridge Andrew Sherratt Department of Antiquities, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford Timothy Taylor Department of Archaeology, University of Bradford Norman Yoffee Department of Anthropology, University of Arizona Wendy Ashmore Department of Anthropology, University of Pennsylvania

Factional competition and political development in the New World

Edited by

ELIZABETH M. BRUMFIEL and JOHN W. FOX

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

PUBLISHED BY THE PRESS SYNDICATE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE The Pitt Building, Trumpington Street, Cambridge, United Kingdom CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 2RU, UK 40 West 20th Street, New York NY 10011-4211, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia Ruiz de Alarcon 13, 28014 Madrid, Spain Dock House, The Waterfront, Cape Town 8001, South Africa http ://www. Cambridge. org © Cambridge University Press 1994 This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 1994 First paperback edition 2003 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress cataloguing in publication data Factional competition and political development in the New World/edited by Elizabeth M. Brumfiel and John W. Fox. p. cm. - (New directions in archaeology) ISBN 0 521 38400 1 hardback I. Indians - Politics and government. 2. Political anthropology America. 3. Social archaeology - America. 4. Indians - Antiquities. 5. America-Antiquities. I. Brumfiel, Elizabeth M. II. Fox, John W., 1947- . III. Series. E59.P73F33 1993 306.2-dc20 92-32371 CIP ISBN 0 521 38400 1 hardback ISBN 0 521 54584 6 paperback

PART III STATES 7 Ethnicity and political control in a complex society: the Tarascan state of prehispanic Mexico Helen Perlstein Pollard

Contents

8 Ethnic groups and political development in ancient Mexico Elizabeth M. Brumfiel 9 Factional divisions within the Aztec (Colhua) royal family Rudolf van Zantwijk

List of figures List of tables List of contributors Preface PART I

page vin x xi xii

INTRODUCTION

1 Factional competition and political development in the New World: an introduction Elizabeth M. Brumfiel PART II

CHIEFDOMS

2 The power of prestige: competitive generosity and the emergence of rank societies in lowland Mesoamerica John E. Clark and Michael Blake 3 Factional ascendance, dimensions of leadership, and the development of centralized authority Charles S. Spencer 4 External warfare and the internal politics of northern South American tribes and chiefdoms Elsa M. Redmond 5 Chiefdom rivalries, control, and external contacts in lower Central America Mary W. Helms 6 Factional competition and the political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms in the Southeastern United States David G. Anderson

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10 Alliance and intervention in Aztec imperial expansion Frederic Hicks

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11 Political factions in the transition from Classic to Postclassic in the Mixteca Alta Bruce E. By land and John M. D. Pohl

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12 Internal subdivisions of communities in the prehispanic Valley of Oaxaca Stephen A. Kowalewski

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13 Cycles of conflict: political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl

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14 Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya John W. Fox

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15 Factions and political development in the central Andes Terence N. D'Altroy

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PART IV

189

DISCUSSIONS

16 Factional competition and historical materialism Glenn Perusek 17 Conclusions: moietal opposition, segmentation, and factionalism in New World political arenas John W. Fox Bibliography Index

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199 207 230

3.6

Figures

4.1

6.1

6.2 6.3

6.4 2.1

Measures of interaction in unrestricted (A) and linear (B) networks. 2.2 Environmental zones of the Mazatan area. 2.3 Population estimates for the Mazatan region during the Early Formative period. 2.4 Reconstruction of Barra vessels from the Mazatan zone. 2.5 Percentages of vessel types in the Barra ceramic assemblage. 2.6 Reconstruction of Locona vessels from Mazatan zone. 2.7 Percentages of vessel types in the Locona ceramic assemblage. 3.1 Western Venezuela, showing location of study area overlapping the foothills of the Andes and the high llanos. 3.2 Early Gavan and Early Curbati settlement patterns. 3.3 Late Gavan and Late Curbati settlement patterns. 3.4 Topographic map of the Gavan site, showing the major earthen mounds, calzadas, smaller housemounds, the block excavation areas, and the test excavations. 3.5 The Gavan locality, showing the first-order center, an adjacent second-order site, nearby third-order sites, the drained-field system, and the calzada system.

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20 6.5 22 7.1 7.2 23 7.3 24 7.4 25 26

7.5 8.1

27 8.2 37 8.3 38 8.4 39 8.5

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8.6 8.7 8.8 9.1

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La Tigra, the drained-field system. A network of canals connects two oxbow lagoons with the Cano Colorado, a tributary stream of the Rio Canagua. Locations of the northern South American societies considered in this study of tribal and chiefly warfare. European exploration and native societies in the South Appalachian area during the sixteenth century. Matrilineal succession to the chieftainship in Mississippian society. Dispersal of chiefly elites in Southeastern Mississippian chiefdoms: use of matrilocal post-marital residence to relocate potential rivals while building a power base. Dispersal of chiefly elites in Southeastern Mississippian chiefdoms: sources of instability in later generations. Mississippian archaeological sites in the Southeastern United States. Protohistoric Mesoamerica. Sixteenth-century ethnic/linguistic boundaries. Protohistoric Tarascan market and tribute regions. Eighteenth-century Tarascan language distribution. Tarascan ethnic/political structure. The Valley of Mexico during the Late Postclassic, showing the location of Xaltocan and other major settlements. Chiconcuauh, leader of the Otomis and first ruler of Xaltocan, receives land from Xolotl. An honorary "Otomi" warrior seizes a captive in war. "Tribal" areas of late prehispanic Mexico. The Otomi patron deity Otonteuctli, wearing a labret, appears in the festival ofXocotlhuetzi. Otomi dancers, wearing labrets, celebrate the festival of Xocotl huetzi. Labrets from Xaltocan. The distribution of labrets within the survey area at Xaltocan. Colhua and Tepanec factions within the ruling lineage of Tenochtitlan.

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List of figures 11.1 Southern Nochixtlan Valley showing locations of places mentioned in text. 11.2 Las Flores Phase (Classic period) occupation of Tilantongo and Jaltepec. 11.3 Genealogical relationships of major characters in the War of Heaven and 8 Deer periods. 11.4 Natividad phase (Postclassic period) occupation of Tilantongo and Jaltepec. 11.5 Place sign of Zaachila. 12.1 Clustering in prehispanic settlements. 12.2 A site with multiple, widely scattered mounds: 4-11-87 etc., a Monte Alban V site near San Sebastian Teitipac. 12.3 A site with a single focus of mounds and plazas: Tl-SJT-SJT-11, a multicomponent site near San Juan Teitipac. 12.4 A site with a single focus of mounds and plazas and others scattered: Xoxocotlan, mainly Early Classic. 12.4 A site with multiple architectural foci: OC-SMT-SMT-11 near San Martin Tilcajete, in the Late Formative. 12.6 A site with multiple architectural foci: Suchilquitongo in the Late Classic. 12.7 A site with multiple architectural foci: Monte Alban V Tlalixtac. 12.8 The center of one of Monte Alban's barrios, site subdivision 15 (El Gallo). 13.1 Map of sites discussed. 13.2 Carved peccary skull from a Late Classic royal tomb at Copan illustrating elite participation in the cuch (burden) rite. 13.3 The Book of Chilam Balan of Chumayel depicts the lords of the katuns as European kings. 13.4 Map showing the locations of Caracol, Tikal, and other competing polities in northeast Peten and southwestern Belize. 13.5 Stele 16, Dos Pilas, shows Ruler 3, dressed as a jaguar victorious over Paw Jaguar, divine lord of Seibal. 13.6 Lintel 6, Structure 1, Yaxchilan, shows Bird Jaguar, in a jaguar headdress, and his cahal, both holding jaguar clubs. 13.7 Lintel 8, Structure 1, Yaxchilan, depicts Bird Jaguar and his cahal grasping Jeweled Skull and another captive in a ritual re-enactment of Jeweled Skull's defeat.

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122 123 124 128

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13.8 Lintel 58, Structure 54, Yaxchilan, depicts Bird Jaguar attended by his brother-in-law, the cahal Great Skull. 13.9 The Kimbell panel shows a war captain presenting his lord Shield Jaguar II with captives. 13.10 The Leiden plaque shows a ruler at his inauguration in AD 320. 14.1 Arrangement of the four Quiche major lineages according to the cardinal directions. 14.2a Plan of Jacawitz. 14.2b Jacawitz (Chitinamit), Chujuyup. 14.3 Settlement plan of Utatlan. 14.4 Cosmogram showing the three patron temples within the quadripartite sectioning of Utatlan. 14.5 Power of major lineages at Jacawitz (A) during the Early Postclassic period, and at Utatlan (B) during the Late Postclassic period. 14.6 Four concentric circles of the Quiche state's maximum expansion to the four cardinal directions, for a total of thirteen divisions. 15.1 Chronology of Upper Mantaro Valley occupations; chronology of Inka emperors. 15.2 The Upper Mantaro region, showing the three say as of Hatunxauxa, Lurinwanka, and Ananwanka as their territories were constituted under Inka rule. 15.3 Site plan of Tunanmarca (J7), Wanka II center; the numbered compounds were excavated. 15.4 Ubiquity of copper in Wanka II and III residential compounds. 15.5 Density of copper in Wanka II and III residential compounds. 15.6 Ubiquity of silver in Wanka II and III residential compounds. 15.7 Density of silver in Wanka II and III residential compounds. 15.8 Late Horizon (Inka and Wanka III) settlement pattern in the northern Upper Mantaro Valley. 15.9 Percentages of chemically characterized Inka ceramics belonging to compositional groups, by site. 15.10 Simplified succession of lords of the ayllu Lurinhuallas.

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183 184

Tables

2.1 Consumption of tecomates during the Early Formative. 8.1 Otomi culture traits and their suggested archaeological correlates. 8.2 The frequency of possible ethnic markers at Middle Postclassic Xaltocan, Huexotla, and Xico. 8.3 Percentages of decorated pottery in units with and without labrets. 8.4 Otomi ethnic markers at Xaltocan, Middle Postclassic and Late Postclassic periods. 13.1 An example of competition among polities focusing on the area of northeast Peten and on Caracol. 13.2 Royal visits, marriages, and warfare between polities recorded in glyphic texts from the Classic period.

28 97

98 100

101 145

152

Contributors

G. ANDERSON, National Park Service, Atlanta, Georgia MICHAEL BLAKE, Department of Anthropology and Sociology, University of British Columbia, Vancouver ELIZABETH M. BRUMFIEL, Department of Anthropology and Sociology, Albion College, Albion, Michigan BRUCE E. BYLAND, Lehman College and The Graduate School, City University of New York, New York JOHN E. CLARK, Department of Anthropology, Brigham Young University and New World Archaeological Foundation, Provo, Utah TERENCE N. D'ALTROY, Department of Anthropology, Columbia University, New York JOHN w. FOX, Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Baylor University, Waco, Texas MARY w. HELMS, Department of Anthropology, University of North Carolina, Greensboro DAVID

Department of Anthropology, University of Louisville, Kentucky STEPHEN A. KOWALEWSKI, Department of Anthropology, University of Georgia, Athens GLENN PERUSEK, Department of Political Science, Albion College, Albion, Michigan FREDERIC HICKS,

JOHN M. D. POHL, Institute of Archaeology, University

of California, Los Angeles MARY E. D. POHL, Department of Anthropology,

Florida State University, Tallahassee Department of Anthropology, Michigan State University, East Lansing ELSA M. REDMOND, American Museum of Natural History, New York CHARLES s. SPENCER, American Museum of Natural History, New York RUDOLF VAN ZANTWUK, University of Utrecht HELEN PERLSTEIN POLLARD,

Preface

This volume began with a chance meeting between Liz Brumfiel and John Fox at the World Archaeological Congress, Southampton, in 1986. We recognized our mutual interest in the internal dynamics of political development and our complementary specialties in the prehispanic Aztec and Maya. We also recognized our mutual interest in visiting Amsterdam, the site of the 46th International Congress of Americanists in 1988. The two of us organized the symposium "Factional Competition and Political Development in the New World" for the 46th International Congress of Americanists. Participants included the two co-editors of this volume, David Anderson, Bruce Byland, Pedro Carrasco, Mary Helms, Stephen Kowalewski, John Pohl, and Rudolf van Zantwijk. Encouraged by the quality of the symposium papers, we decided to edit a

xu

volume devoted to exploring factional competition as a force of social transformation in prehispanic New World societies. To increase the breadth of coverage, we solicited additional papers from John Clark and Mike Blake, Terry D'Altroy, Fred Hicks, Mary Pohl, Helen Perlstein Pollard, Elsa Redmond and Chuck Spencer. To our regret, Pedro Carrasco had to drop out of the project; his contribution is sorely missed. Glenn Perusek, a specialist in historical materialist approaches to interest group politics and rational choice theory, generously offered to write an overview of the volume from his perspective in political science. We gratefully accepted his offer. With the support of the editorial staff at the Cambridge University Press, we completed editing this volume in May 1992.

PART I

Introduction

structural) Marxism, the studies in this volume demonstrate the necessity of replacing a theory of strict systemic or structural determination of human behavior with a theory that integrates agent-centered and systemcentered analyses into a single framework. Most of the studies in this volume employ versions of an agentcentered practice theory developed in the work of Barth (1966), Giddens (1979), and Ortner (1984). Practice theory is especially suited to the analysis of factional competition. Factions are characterized by an informal, leader-focused organization (Nicholas 1965, ELIZABETH M. BRUMFIEL Bujra 1973, Silverman 1977); thus, it seems reasonable to initiate analysis by examining the goals and strategies employed by faction leaders as individual social actors. Furthermore, factions are groups whose single function appears to be gaining access to limited physical and social resources (Bailey 1969:52), and these goals are best achieved through the application of a pragmatic, This volume calls attention to the importance of fac- advantage-seeking, maximizing strategy such as that tional competition as a force of social transformation. It imputed to agents in practice theory. Finally, factions argues that factional competition is implicated in devel- are structurally and functionally similar groups that opments as diverse as the spread of ceramic technology compete for advantages within a larger social unit such and maize agriculture, the origins of permanently insti- as a kin group, ethnic group, village or chiefdom. Practuted leadership offices, the expansion and collapse of tice theory anticipates conflict between individuals simistates, and the European domination of indigenous New larly positioned within society while cultural ecology World peoples. Although this volume focuses upon the and Marxism do not. As argued below, this internal New World, its perspective is relevant to the social competition supplies the dynamic for political develhistories of other areas of the world as well, because all opment. non-egalitarian societies, both ancient and modern, are This introduction begins by defining factions and facshaped by the dynamics of factional competition. Bring- tional competition. Then, it discusses the relationship ing an agent-centered perspective to the study of poli- between factional competition and "ecological" varitical development, this volume also contributes to a ables such as population, warfare, agricultural progeneral understanding of social stability and change. An duction, and long-distance trade. Third, it proposes how agent-centered perspective maximizes the amount of factional competition and class struggle interact to data drawn into the analysis and thus permits the most produce the social formations discussed in the case detailed and complete account of specific cases of poli- studies that follow. Fourth, it considers how factions tical continuity and transformation. and factional competition can be identified in the Our studies of factional competition both complement archaeological record. Finally, it examines the wider and critique the two prevailing approaches to prehistoric theoretical implications of an agent-centered persocial change: cultural ecology and Marxism. Cultural spective. ecology focuses upon the dynamic interactions of human populations and their local environments. As a complement to this, the studies in this volume examine the What are factions? internal dynamics of local populations, dynamics that Aside from a few brief discussions of factions prior to help to shape the strategy of resource exploitation. 1955 (Lasswell 1931, Linton 1936:229, French 1948, Marxist theory focuses upon the dynamics of class Fenton 1955), anthropological interest in factions develstruggle: a model postulating solidarity within classes oped as part of an effort to expand the scope of social and struggle between them. As a complement to class anthropology beyond the description and analysis of struggle, the essays in this volume emphasize the import- formal social structure. This was accomplished first ance of conflicts within classes and alliances between through the recognition of the many informal, nonthem. As critiques of cultural ecology and (particularly corporate groups present in contemporary non-Western

1 Factional competition and political development in the New World: an introduction

3

Elizabeth M. Brumfiel societies (including action groups, cliques, networks, factions, and patron-client dyads), and second, through the investigation of how social structure is generated by individuals acting to maximize their self-interest given their particular sets of cultural and material constraints (Whitten and Whitten 1972; Cohen 1974:40-3; Vincent 1978). From the mid-1960s to the mid-1970s, the construction of models of informal groups and individualcentered social transactions was a flourishing, if somewhat insular, enterprise within social anthropology, and factions became the object of considerable interest. At issue was the definition of factions (Lewis and Dhillon 1954; Firth 1957; Boissevain 1964; Nicholas 1965), whether factions served positive social functions or were a form of social pathology (Siegel and Beals 1960; Schwartz 1969); the relationship between factions and class conflict in peasant societies (Sandbrook 1972; Alavi 1973; Gross 1973; Schryer 1977), and whether factions were an obstruction or an impetus to social change (Bujra 1973; Silverman and Salisbury 1977). However, this interest in factions abruptly collapsed in the late 1970s when anthropologists turned away from local-level, agent-centered studies to pursue the issues raised by the world systems perspective. Although factions have continued to serve as a basic construct for analyzing peasant politics (e.g., Hegland 1981; Greenberg 1989; Munson 1989), the theoretical debates surrounding factions have ceased. There are two reasons for resuscitating what appears to be a dead horse. First, in the sudden move away from factions fifteen years ago, a number of theoretical issues concerning factions were left underdeveloped or unresolved. Second, while factional competition was analyzed extensively in relation to contemporary peasant politics, its usefulness for understanding the politics of prehistoric societies has not been explored. Dealing first with the most important of the unresolved questions, we can ask, how should factions be defined? During the 1960s, factions were defined in terms of their characteristics as a group. Factions were said to be politically oriented conflict groups whose membership was recruited and maintained through the efforts of a leader (Nicholas 1965; Bujra 1973; Silverman 1977). In such groups, unity derives from ties between leaders and followers; lateral ties among followers are poorly developed (Nicholas 1965:28-9; Bujra 1973:134). This was said to account for the loosely structured, personalistic character of factions (Firth 1957:292). Factions were also said to be based upon calculations of self-interest rather than moral commitment to the group (Bailey 1969:52), to be transitory groups with membership

recruited on many different bases (Nicholas 1965), and to be lacking in corporate property, frequent meetings, structural complexity, and rules governing succession to leadership (Boissevain 1964; Bujra 1973). Explicitly or implicitly, factions were contrasted with corporate groups, the traditional focus of structural-functional analysis in social anthropology. These definitions are quite useful for investigating the character of factions as a type of informal group, but they divert attention from the most interesting dynamic property of factions, namely the competitive relationships between them. If the object of investigation is to discover how factional competition acts as a force of social transformation, it is preferable to view factions in terms of what they do rather than in terms of what they are (Salisbury and Silverman 1977). Therefore, in this volume, factions are defined as structurally and functionally similar groups which, by virtue of their similarity, compete for resources and positions of power or prestige. In this definition, factions are understood to be groups engaged in political competition which are neither classes nor functionally differentiated interest groups. The lack of structural and functional differentiation between factions has been frequently noted. In a South India village, Siegel and Beals (1960:396) found "few indications of consistent differences between them in terms of policy or kinds of people who belonged." In Boissevain's (1964:1276) view, a faction is "a loosely ordered group in conflict with a similar group." Similarly, Sandbrook (1972:111) defines a faction as "a segment of a clientage network organized to compete with a unit or units of similar type." Bujra (1973:136-8) provides an excellent theoretical account of the structural similarity of factions. She explains that faction leaders come from similar social backgrounds because while "social distance restricts competition, social contiguity engenders it ... Conflicts thus often begin between people who are more socially alike than different." In addition, faction leaders tend to come from the "dominant" sectors of society, since it is these individuals who have the resources needed to recruit large folio wings. Coming from the same privileged sector of society, faction leaders are likely to share similar political goals, and these goals are not likely to challenge the basic structure of society. Bujra (1973:137) adds that leaders, wishing to enlarge their followings, will seek supporters in all the different sectors of society, claiming allegiance on many different bases: past or future patronage, proximity of kinship, a common religion or ethnic identity, etc. Therefore, the individuals forming a faction lack an identity of interests

Introduction that would engender common political goals beyond winning advantages for their own faction. Nor are there clear differences between the members of different factions that might result in policy differences between them. Thus, while factions compete for resources, their structural similarity insures that they will hold similar ideas about what the world is like and what it should be like. Factional competition tends to be nonrevolutionary in intent. The objective of factional competition is to achieve a favorable allocation of existing benefits; each faction hopes to gain more while its competitors gain less. Participants conceptualize factional competition as a zero-sum game in which one party's gain is another's loss. Thus, in factional competition, debate generally centers upon the relative legitimacy of each faction's claims rather than the merits of substantively different social programs. Given the lack of structural differences between competing factions, it is atfirstdifficult to see how they might act as vehicles of social transformation. Because factional competition is non-revolutionary in intent, it has often been regarded as non-revolutionary in consequence (Siegel and Beals 1960, Gross 1973, Sandbrook 1972). However, Salisbury and Silverman (1977:6-7) observe that factionalism has an inherent dynamism grounded in competitive strategizing: "Each confrontation [between factions] changes the terms on which the next confrontation will take place ... [T]he strategy of one side ... does not produce an exact or mirror-image strategy ... Relations are, in fact, systematically oblique and groupings are systematically unalike. Factionalism, in short, produces actions and reactions that do not simply balance o u t . . . " The issue of whether, as Silverman and Salisbury suggest, factional competition could serve as a mechanism of social transformation has not been thoroughly explored. A major obstacle to gauging the transformative power of factional competition has been that, prior to this volume, factions have been studied in contemporary communities under the dominance of a state: Native American communities supervised by the Bureau of Indian Affairs and peasant communities in colonial or recently post-colonial nations. In such communities, the state constrains both the scale of conflict and the degree of structural change resulting from factional competition. For this reason, previous studies may easily have underestimated the transformative power of factional competition. Almost certainly, factional competition was a more dynamic force in pre-state societies than it is in the modern world.

Another issue that has not been thoroughly explored is the proper scale of analysis for the study of factional competition. In the ethnographic literature, outside forces have sometimes been seen as influencing factional competition. For example, the rise of factions is often attributed to the decline of traditional, power-holding corporate groups under the impact of Western contact (French 1948; Siegel and Beals 1960; Nicholas 1965; Nagata 1977). And several observers have suggested that the strength of factions and faction leaders varied according to their access to outside sources of revenue and influence, most often supplied by the state (Schwartz 1969; Sandbrook 1972; Bujra 1973; Gross 1973; Schryer 1977; Salisbury 1977). Nevertheless, factions have been regarded as an aspect of "local level politics" (Schwartz 1968), impinged upon by regional or national politics but not affecting them in reverse. In contrast, several essays in this book investigate the interplay of local and regional processes in tribal politics. Spencer (Chapter 3) argues convincingly that the internal and external dimensions of tribal leadership are intertwined. The formation of competing factions within communities goes hand in hand with the development of alliances between faction leaders in different communities. The net effect of this process is to turn an entire region into a single political "arena," a community within which competing coalitions of faction leaders vie for resources. In a similar fashion, it becomes extremely difficult to differentiate between local, internal dimensions of political violence (the suppression of rebellion) and regional, external dimensions of political violence (the pursuit of warfare) once communities became enmeshed in intervillage alliances that compete at the regional level (see Anderson, Chapter 6, for Mississippian societies and Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13, for the Classic Maya). In examining factional competition and political development in prehistoric societies, the essays in this volume raise a number of issues, most of which are new to archaeology. These include: the opportunities and constraints presented by different mediums of competition including feasting (Clark and Blake, Chapter 2), external alliances and trade (Spencer, Chapter 3), and warfare (Redmond, Chapter 4; Helms, Chapter 5); the sources of factional competition in the kinship and political structures of chiefdoms (Anderson, Chapter 6), states (Byland and Pohl, Chapter 11; Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13; Fox, Chapter 14) and empires (van Zantwijk, Chapter 9); factional competition and ethnic identity (Pollard, Chapter 7; Brumfiel, Chapter 8); and factional competition and imperial expansion (Hicks,

Elizabeth M. Brumfiel Chapter 10). The apparent absence of corporate groups and factional competition is analyzed for the Valley of Oaxaca (Kowalewski, Chapter 12), cycles of factional competition and political change are defined for the southeastern United States, the Maya lowlands and the Postclassic highlands (Anderson, Chapter 6; Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13; Fox, Chapter 14), and the shifting composition of factions and factional conflict in preimperial, imperial, and colonial societies is examined for the central Andes (D'Altroy, Chapter 15). All the essays in this volume are concerned with the relationships of factional competition to ecological conditions and class conflict. The next two sections of this introduction explore these relationships. Factional competition and cultural ecology

At first glance, the study of factional competition and cultural ecology would seem to have little to offer each other. Factional competition focuses attention upon the inner dynamics of social systems while ecosystem theory derives the dynamics of social change from the interaction of human populations with their environments (Hill 1977:88; Binford 1983:221). The study of factional competition involves consideration of strategic decision making by self-promoting leaders while, in the view of cultural ecologists, social change is unrelated to the perceptions and motives of social actors (Hill 1977:66-7; Price 1982:720). Despite these differences, cultural ecology can only benefit from a more explicit consideration of factional politics. Such studies would reveal the internal needs and resource requirements of complex political institutions that affect their distribution in time and space. And studies of factional politics would reveal the importance of the traits that accompany complex political institutions but appear to serve no critical ecological function. For these reasons, perhaps, a concern with factional politics is already present in the work of several ecosystems theorists (Flannery 1972; Webster 1975, 1976; Yoffee 1979; Spencer 1982). Cultural ecologists generally assert that socio-political hierarchies evolve because chiefly and state hierarchies provide for a more effective relationship of a population to its environment; under certain demographic and environmental conditions, political hierarchies are adaptive. Ecosystem theorists often assume that incipiently complex political institutions are at least sporadically present in simpler societies, ready to be pressed into service when they are favored by demographic and environmental conditions. The timing and location of

incipiently complex institutions is said to be random; they do not in themselves constitute a problem suitable for research. Variation, as Price (1982:716) observes, "arises constantly in all living systems and does not, in terms of an evolutionary paradigm, require explanation." But this is not entirely true. Just as sociopolitical complexity might be precluded by environmental problems that have no managerial solution, complex political institutions might be precluded by ecological conditions that do not meet their own institutional requirements. An excellent example of this principle is supplied by Clark and Blake (Chapter 2 , summarizing Hayden 1990; Hayden and Gargett 1990). All but the most ephemeral forms of political leadership require a disposable surplus, a "fund of power" (Sahlins 1968:89). But so long as humans relied upon limited and fluctuating resources, the competitive accumulation of surplus depleted communal resources and was not tolerated. Hence, despite the managerial benefits that more powerful specialized leadership might have conferred upon the population, such leadership did not emerge until after subsistence came to be based upon rich and reliable food resources. A second and even more interesting example concerns long-distance trade. Long-distance trade has a tendency to increase as political institutions become more complex. Cultural ecologists, with their attention perennially fixed on population-environment interaction, have supplied three accounts of long-distance trade. One regards it as a means of procuring critical resources that are not locally available (Rathje 1971; Johnson and Earle 1987:245). A second regards it as a means of gaining alliances and valuables (storable wealth) that enhance subsistence security (Flannery 1968; Halstead and O'Shea 1982). The third regards long-distance trade as unimportant because it is most often concerned with sumptuary, as opposed to subsistence, goods (Price 1977; Binford 1983:227-31; Sanders 1984). However, all these accounts draw attention away from the fact that valuables acquired from distant sources supply considerable political control because of their ability to attract followers, allies and patrons and to maintain hierarchies of control (Schneider 1977; Earle 1978; Friedman and Rowlands, 1978; Helms 1979; Kristiansen 1981:257; Brumfiel and Earle 1987; Gosden 1989). Coalition building is an essential activity in creating and maintaining political power. But we cannot fully appreciate the importance of this aspect of long-distance trade in valuables until we stop looking for a directly adaptive function for this institution or, unable to find one, assess such trade as epiphenomenal.

Introduction

Although factional competition must be considered in ecological analyses of political complexity, ecological variables are essential for understanding factional competition. As Hayden and Gargett (1990) suggest, factional competition will not exist so long as subsistence is based upon limited and fluctuating resources associated with generalized foraging. When factional competition is present, the success of faction leaders is partly determined by local resource productivity and trade route accessibility. Faction leaders will be most successful in areas that are most productive, giving the prevailing methods of resource exploitation. For example, under conditions of low agricultural intensification, faction leaders will do best in areas (like the American Bottoms region of the middle Mississippi River) where a large following can gather to enjoy the benefits of factional membership without incurring the costs of intensified subsistence effort. But under conditions of higher agricultural intensification, leaders will do best in areas with the greatest quantity of intensifiable resources (irrigable land, etc.). Pohl and Pohl (Chapter 13) suggest that ecological variables affecting agricultural production also shape the onset and intensity of factional competition. Rainfall agriculture permits a more mobile commoner population, easily able to shift allegiance from one leader to another. Leaders then compete to control segments of this mobile population. More intensive agricultural regimes tie farmers to the land, lessening competition between political elites and permitting greater political stability. Price (1984) has also noted this difference, adding that leaders in rainfall agricultural regimes are more likely to engage in conspicuous generosity in order to attract followers. Anderson (Chapter 6) suggests that extreme competition and violence are common during periods of environmental instability or change. He believes that European contact intensified factional competition among native peoples in the southeastern United States, first through the introduction of European diseases that killed individuals who occupied strategic positions in the regional alliance network, and second through the introduction of European trade goods that opened new possibilities for acquiring wealth items. Spencer (Chapter 3) cites a case where disease in a Shavante village led to a realignment of factions. Geography, by affecting the shape of interaction networks, also shapes factional competition. Clark and Blake (Chapter 2) argue that more open settlement systems with greater possibilities for regional interaction have greater potential for being dominated by a single,

advantageously situated authority. Conversely, both Anderson (Chapter 6) and Byland and Pohl (Chapter 12) suggest that, in patchy environments, the difficulty of maintaining communications between scattered communities prevents any one from dominating the others. Under these conditions, factional competition tends to persist in a more or less stable equilibrium. The recognition that factional competition is shaped by ecological variables does not imply that factional competition is always, at the base, caused by subsistence shortages. Cultural ecologists have frequently argued that intercommunity warfare is the result of growing populations competing for scarce subsistence resources (Sanders and Price 1968; Carneiro 1970; Webster 1975; Ferguson 1984; Johnson and Earle 1987). Alternative views on the motivation and character of warfare appear in this volume. For example, Redmond (Chapter 4) finds that, in northern South America, tribal warfare is motivated by the desire for revenge rather than the desire for resources. A careful consideration of Panamanian chiefs leads Helms (Chapter 5) to conclude that their leadership of warfare was motivated by their desire for personal gain without the added spur of population pressure. Spencer (Chapter 3) suggests that the elitist character of warfare in ranked societies is revealed archaeologically in the fact that elite centers are fortified while smaller communities are not. But if warfare arises from the desire for revenge, why does it occur in some societies but not others (Johnson and Earle 1987:124, 134)? And if warfare arises from the selfish motives of chiefs, why do followers participate? As Redmond (Chapter 4) makes clear, individuals are very reluctant to fight; in fact, an ambitious leader may earn the indebtedness of individuals who must seek revenge by organizing a raiding party on their behalf (see also Spencer, Chapter 3). Presumably, leaders organize these raids on the same basis as other activities that they carry out, by calling to action those indebted to them for previous favors. Thus, warfare becomes possible once individual jealousies and the desire for revenge become linked to the political goals of self-aggrandizing leaders who have established followings that they can call upon to implement their plans (see also Sillitoe 1978). In more stratified societies, the participation of subordinate groups in warfare is less problematic. Rulers compel participation through coercion, and they reward participation by conferring promotions of status upon those whose performance is outstanding. The link between warfare and population pressure in stratified societies is weak. This is clearly indicated by Pohl and Pohl's (Chapter 13) observation that the population of

Elizabeth M. Brumfiel Caracol grew by 325 percent in the 130 years after it defeated Tikal. If Caracol was making war with a population of less than one-third of its capacity, it is difficult to believe that the war was a consequence of population pressure. Factional competition and class conflict

If, because of earlier research agendas, factions have frequently been contrasted with corporate groups, our own interest in social transformation leads us to contrast factions with classes. Under conditions of class struggle, society is divided by horizontal cleavages that separate internally solidary and externally competing strata. This contrasts with a situation of factional competition in which society is divided by vertical cleavages that unite members of different strata and foster conflict between members of the same strata. Intra-class competition is a common theme in Marx's writings on capitalist society. Marx (1977:266-7) observed that capitalist society contained two marketdriven, intra-class struggles: on the one hand, "the industrial war of capitalists among themselves" to maintain profits, on the other hand, the competition among workers for employment. Marx maintained that intraclass competition is only overcome by class consciousness brought about by class struggle: "The separate individuals form a class only in so far as they have to carry on a common battle against another class; otherwise they are on hostile terms with each other as competitors" (Marx and Engels 1947:48-9). Thus, factional competition and class conflict are presented as inversely related, the former fading as the latter intensifies. And class struggle is given the greater explanatory weight: "The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles" (Marx 1977:222). As Bloch (1983:18) points out, Marx's emphasis upon class struggle has not been very helpful for anthropologists investigating the causes of change in classless societies. In the absence of class struggle, Marxist anthropologists have variously attributed social change in classless societies to technological development and environmental change (see Levine and Wright 1980); to the structural incompatabilities ("contradictions") between the forces of production, the relations of production, and the social and ideological superstructure (Godelier 1977; Friedman 1975; Friedman and Rowlands 1978); or to the conflict of interests between individuals who occupy subordinate statuses within society (women, lineage juniors, etc.) and those who dominate them (Bloch 1983:160). The dynamics of conflict among those in similar social positions has received little attention.

On the other hand, several anthropologists, working from a variety of positions sympathetic to Marxism, have suggested that factional conflict within the elite stratum explains the intensification, modification and decline of elite power in chiefdoms and agrarian states (Webster 1975; Earle 1978, 1987; Cowgill 1979; Kristiansen 1981; Brumfiel 1983; Gailey and Patterson 1987; Patterson 1991). This volume extends their arguments to suggest that conflicts within (both commoner and elite) strata interact with conflicts between strata to determine the course of political development. First of all, competition between non-elites provides frequent opportunities for leaders to expand their influence and power. As Spencer (Chapter 3) and Redmond (Chapter 4) indicate, leaders in lowland South America increased their influence by assisting individuals embroiled in personal disputes or blood feuds. Brumfiel (Chapter 8) suggests that mediating competition between calpulli and teccalli groups for houses, land, titles, and other resources was an important service performed by city-state rulers in central Mexico prior to Aztec rule. Pohl and Pohl (Chapter 13) indicate that the Postclassic Maya elites, as patrons to their subjects, resolved property disputes and defended community resources against outside attack. And the military commanders of the pre-Inka Wanka prosecuted wars that at least ostensibly defended community resources from raids by neighboring groups (D'Altroy, Chapter 15). In each of these cases, competition among non-elites motivated commoners to subordinate themselves to a political leader. The resulting alignments were factions. At the same time, competition among political elites frequently moderates the intensity with which commoners are exploited. In the tribal societies described by Clark and Blake (Chapter 2), Spencer (Chapter 3), and Redmond (Chapter 4) leaders compete with each other to supply benefits to followers, although the successful leader will also have cultivated his ability to call in his debts at critical junctures. In chiefdoms and city-states, rulers seek to finance their competition against rival elites by enlarging the size of their tributepaying populations. Although this is sometimes accomplished through conquest, it can also be achieved by offering commoners prime agricultural land (Earle 1978) or a low per capita tribute burden (Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13) as inducements to settle. In pre-Aztec Mexico, intense competition within the ruling class enabled commoners to move from one city-state to another, thus avoiding conditions of intense exploitation (Hicks 1982; Brumfiel, Chapter 8). The suppression of commoner residential mobility

Introduction may be a necessary condition for the existence of class stratification in agrarian states. This could be accomplished through "social circumscription" (Carneiro 1970), as Pohl and Pohl (Chapter 13) suggest for the Peten Maya. Or, it might be accomplished by the political unification of a region, resulting in uniform conditions of exploitation for the commoner class. Seeing the advantages of unification, ruling elites might voluntarily surrender their sovereignty to an expanding regional state (Smith 1986; Hicks, Chapter 10). Commoners can sometimes exploit intra-elite competition to their own advantage even without leaving home. When plagued by oppressive rule, commoners can support the efforts of some ambitious prince to overthrow the incumbent ruler. Class warfare can assume the guise of civil war between noble factions (Fallers 1956:247; Sahlins 1968:92-3). Thus, the suppression of intra-elite competition is a second condition necessary for the emergence of class stratification. Mechanisms for unifying the ruling class include fostering a homogeneous elite culture (Pollard, Chapter 7; Brumfiel, Chapter 8), elite intermarriage (van Zantwijk, Chapter 9), the rotation of status-conferring ritual and political activities (van Zantwijk, Chapter 9; Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13; Fox, Chapter 14), and the forging of patron-client relationships between the state and individual members of the regional nobility (Pollard, Chapter 7; Hicks, Chapter 10; Fox, Chapter 14; D'Altroy, Chapter 15). Interestingly enough, a homogeneous elite culture, elite intermarriage, and possibly the rotation of ritual responsibilities were present among the Classic Maya, who never achieved regional unification (Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13). Thus, intra-elite patron-client relationships, backed by coercive force, emerge as the most important mechanism for securing a unified ruling class among the relatively non-bureaucratic Aztecs and Inkas. While factional competition affects the dimensions of social inequality, class structure shapes competition and alliance building (Lloyd 1965). In the tribal systems described by Clark and Blake (Chapter 2), Spencer (Chapter 3), and Redmond (Chapter 4), classes are absent, and followers align themselves with the leader who supplies them with the greatest immediate benefits. These vertical alliances are shallow, extending only from followers to the local leader. On the regional level, linkages are supplied by alliances between village leaders, and these linkages are the most critical advantage that incumbent leaders enjoy over aspiring rivals. Alliances between leaders give incumbents greater access to exotic goods and military assistance than is available to their

rivals. Spencer (Chapter 3) suggests that efforts by incumbent leaders to regularize relationships within their alliance network might lead them to deal preferentially with the heir of a deceased leader, initiating a form of ascriptive leadership that could develop into a permanent chieftainship. Institutionalized tribute extraction in chiefdoms and city-states makes available greater quantities of wealth for elite competition and alliance building. Anderson (Chapter 6) suggests that competition is most intense when the material rewards associated with leadership are greatest, and this is borne out by the high level of factional competition within the elite stratum of the chiefdoms and city-states described in this volume. Internally, close kinsmen struggle to control leadership offices; externally, leaders struggle to gain higher positions in the regional political hierarchy. Their allies in this quest are an unstable coalition of consanguineal and affinal kin and commoners raised to noble rank as a reward for valorous military service. These coalitions are held together by the redistribution of tribute wealth to noble followers and the allotment of segments of the tribute-paying population to the leader's strongest rivals. But the intra-elite competition, as discussed above, limits exploitation, creating a chronically underfunded ruling class. To augment their incomes, leaders make war upon their neighbors, and, as Redmond (Chapter 4) documents so convincingly, warfare in chiefdoms reaches an intensity that is clearly greater than that found among tribal peoples. To survive both internal and external competition, leaders place themselves under the patronage of strong regional leaders. These vertical alliances have greater depth (three or four levels) and territorial range than the vertical alliances found in tribal "big-man" systems. Anderson (Chapter 6) suggests that such systems are marked by a secular trend away from intra-elite and inter-class relations based upon display and redistribution toward the greater use of force. The unification of elites in a regional state permits very high levels of tribute extraction. This surplus flows to the paramount ruler who establishes himself as the primary supplier of sumptuary goods and military assistance to subordinate leaders. Thus, vertical alliance networks all converge on the state rulers while horizontal alliances between local rulers wither away. State patronage permits subordinate rulers to enjoy a definite in-group advantage over their local rivals. As in modern systems of centralized patronage, the level of overt factional competition tends to be quite low.

10

Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

The position of local elites is further weakened when the state creates new territorial units and administrative offices filled by members of the state's ruling group instead of by local rulers. Such policies result in the severing of ties between rulers and ruled and strengthen class stratification (D'Altroy, Chapter 15). Subsequently, these policies may give rise to disputes between those who have traditional claims on resources and those who derive claims from the new system, both of whom must turn to the state for recognition of their claims. The absence of local solidarity and the competition between local factions for favorable treatment by the state weakens the local capacity for resistance (D'Altroy, Chapter 15; see also Dennis 1987). The greatest threat to these states is factional competition at the very highest level, within the royal family (van Zantwijk, Chapter 9; D'Altroy, Chapter 15). As states disintegrate, considerable wealth and power may become lodged outside the realm of political control. Blanton (1983) points out that associations organizing craft production or exchange tend to arise during periods of weakened state control. Religious power may also be lodged in more or less autonomous institutions such as the priesthood during Postclassic times in Oaxaca and possibly also the Maya lowlands (Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13; see also Patterson 1985). To deal with these groups, political elites are sometimes forced to admit their members to political office so that the interests of outside groups coincide with the interest of the political elite (Lloyd 1965:98). At other times, such groups promote factional competition among political elites to maintain their own autonomy. Aligning themselves with different elite factions, outside groups may succeed in transforming a tributary state into a broker state, in which factional competition is overshadowed by competition between functionally differentiated interest groups. Factional competition and the archaeological record

Factional competition involves two complementary processes: the construction of coalitions of support and participation in political contests. In building coalitions of support, leaders forge ties between themselves and their clients, allies, and patrons. In political contests, leaders exchange information on the strength of their coalitions and determine who will control contested resources (see Bailey 1969). Coalition building and contests may occur simultaneously, as when leaders compete to offer potential supporters the most attractive gifts. Both alliance building and political contests leave distinctive imprints on the archaeological record.

Alliance building is frequently achieved through exchange. Locally, the liberal distribution of gifts and preferred foods is used to attract followers who are then tied to the leader by their indebtedness for unreciprocated favors (Sahlins 1968:88-90). Regionally, balanced gift exchange establishes a pattern of mutual aid between allied leaders while asymmetrical exchange (involving the movement of staple crops upward and the flow of valuables downward) characterizes relations between local elites and regional paramounts. The valuables used in these exchanges are scarce and highly valued, usually owing to their foreign origin or the quantity of labor involved in their production (Drennan 1976:357). The valuables are endowed with symbolic meanings that validate the alliances under construction; furthermore, the valuables are distributed in ritual contexts that further validate the relations of alliance. The intensity and organization of alliance building are visible in the frequency and distribution of exotic or highly crafted wealth items, preferred foods, and feasting paraphernalia in prehistoric sites. Clark and Blake (Chapter 2) cite the presence of finely finished, elaborately decorated ceramics and maize to argue for competitive coalition building on coastal Chiapas by 1600 BC. D'Altroy (Chapter 15) suggests that the high concentration of butchered camelid bones and certain jar and basin types in elite households are evidence of elite sponsorship of feasts at Tunanmarca, Peru. Since there appear to have been few dietary differences between elites and commoners, commoners were probably the guests at elite-sponsored feasts (see also Costin and Earle 1989). A more exclusive sphere of elite alliance building at Tunanmarca is suggested by the restriction to elite houses of metal working and metal artifacts. Metal was probably used in gift exchanges that created coalitions of support among political elites. In Barinas, Venezuela, a similar restriction of polished stone jewelry (much of it from extra-local serpentine) to elite contexts also suggests the existence of a separate sphere of elite alliance building (Spencer, Chapter 3). The presence of non-local goods in non-elite contexts might reveal another dimension of alliance building. For example, in Early to Middle Formative Oaxaca, the uniformity among households of the sources of obsidian used suggests that obsidian was distributed to all households from a single point (Winter and Pires-Ferreira 1976). This could be interpreted as evidence that obsidian procurement and distribution was used by a faction leader to build a popular following (see Clark 1987 for a discussion of how the procurement and processing of

Introduction obsidian provided opportunities for political entrepreneurship in Middle Formative Mesoamerica). Shifts in the frequency and distribution of prestige goods, preferred foods, and feasting paraphernalia provide information on changes in the structure and intensity of alliance building over time. Anderson (Chapter 6) argues that the declining frequency of prestige goods in Mississippian chiefdoms marks the transition from leadership based on persuasion (which required chiefs to build a mass following among commoners) to leadership based on coercion (which permitted chiefs to limit their attentions to a smaller group of strong-arm men). In the Valley of Mexico and the central Andes, a decline in the frequency of vessels used in feasting in the capitals of previously autonomous states reflects the suppression of political competition among local polities by a powerful regional state (Brumfiel 1987a, Costin and Earle 1989). Marriages also play an important role in alliance building. Unfortunately, the archaeological record only rarely preserves evidence of marriage alliance. Stone inscriptions from the Classic Maya constitute one of the very few instances where such records are preserved (Marcus 1976). Pohl and Pohl (Chapter 13) suggest that the Late to Terminal Classic shift in stelae subject matter from marriage to warfare reflects a secular trend in Maya political factionalism from an earlier dependence upon alliances among regional elites to a later pattern of violent competition. The construction of coalitions requires the production of surplus wealth which can underwrite gift exchange and feasting (Sahlins 1968, D'Altroy and Earle 1985). Because the vast majority of production in agrarian societies is household based, changes in the intensity of factional competition should be marked by changes in household size and composition. The initial stages of coalition building ought to be marked by high birth rates, polygamy, and/or the inception of dependent labor within the households of faction leaders (Sahlins 1968:89, Coontz and Henderson 1986). Increases in leaders' influence and power should be reflected in the size and structure of a growing number of households as the leader extracts increasing amounts of goods and labor from a wider circle of clients and subjects. Successful coalition building might leave its imprint on settlement patterns. The size of the leader's settlement may suddenly increase as it did during the emergence of chiefdoms on the south Chiapas coast (Clark and Blake, Chapter 2). The early expansion of San Jose Mogote in the Valley of Oaxaca might also be an example of an unusually large settlement created by successful coali-

11

tion building (Flannery and Marcus 1983b). The successful control of local rivals should be reflected in the distribution of elite residences within a region, as in de Montmollin's (1989:191-6) "Elite Forced Settlement" measure - the proportion of elite residences found at political centers compared to the total number of elite residences in the political catchment controlled from these centers. Alternatively, paramounts might favor a policy of dispersing their rivals to a maximum extent (Anderson, Chapter 6). A lack of control over rivals might be indicated by evenly dispersed, tight clusters of elite and commoner housing indicative of leaderfollower groupings well suited to factional competition. Successful coalition building may also be evident in constructions that by their size or complexity suggest communal labor: raised fields and causeways in Venezuela (Spencer, Chapter 3), agricultural terraces and defensive works in Peru (D'Altroy, Chapter 15), and fortifications and monumental architecture among the Mayas (Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13; Fox, Chapter 14). The particular type of labor investment reflects different strategies for competitive success. Agricultural intensification may improve the leader's ability to attract followers by sponsoring larger feasts or by supplying them with improved lands (Earle 1978). Fortifications suggest that warfare provided wealth that a leader could redistribute to followers (Webster 1975). Monumental architecture might involve manipulation of the symbols of group unity: the ancestral or patron deity. Such symbols would be most prominent under conditions of competition at the regional level as part of an effort to create bonds between leaders and followers that could not be easily transferred to competing leaders. Ethnic symbols may be manipulated with similar goals (Brumfiel, Chapter 8; Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13). Public architecture also suggests efforts to impress a regional audience of potential allies and rivals who use the size of the building projects to judge the size and commitment of one's following. Competition on the regional level often takes the form of warfare. Warfare is archaeologically visible in a number of ways: physical evidence of violent death and the taking of war trophies, defensive works, large settlement size, ephemeral site occupation, defacement of public buildings and prestige goods, and depictions of warfare in art and inscriptions. Drawing upon data from Oaxaca, Kowalewski (Chapter 12) suggests that territorially based competing polities on the regional level might also be indicated by the occurrence of shrines, boundary markers, and buffer zones between localities, by roughly equivalent amounts of civic-ceremonial

12

Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

architecture across subregions, by the absence of organic solidarity between subregions, by the existence of subregional differences in settlement patterns and ceramic styles, and by a settlement plan in regional capitals that provides representation of geographically affiliated subregions. Many of the archaeological manifestations of sociopolitical and spatial segmentation in the Valley of Oaxaca are also to be found in the Classic Maya polity analyzed by de Montmollin (1989). Conclusion: implications for theory

This overview of factional competition and political development has considered a wide variety of ecological and social variables. Resource productivity, geographical boundedness, long-distance exchange, warfare, kinship and marriage systems, rules of succession, class, corporate group structure, and ethnicity all impinge upon the patterning and intensity of factional competition and are, in turn, affected by it. The number of variables discussed reflects the fact that competitive advantage is pursued through the strategic manipulation of many material and social variables; winning strategies must be fabricated according to the resources available. The relative advantages of extensive or intensive agriculture, attached craft production or long-distance exchange, marriage alliance or warfare, ethnic assimilation or ethnic persistence vary according to local circumstances. In addition, the efficacy of different strategies varies over time, depending upon the development of resources, alliance systems, and competitive strategies as consequences of earlier rounds of competition. Given the great variation of competitive strategies over time and space, no two cases are identical. While the logic of factional competition provides an essential principle for understanding the course of local history, the study of factional competition is unlikely to reveal any universal laws of cultural development. The variables involved are too numerous; the strategies for mobilizing resources are too diverse. Although factional competition provides a common impetus to political development, any particular sequence of development is uniquely complex and contingent. In the face of such complexity, it is necessary to alternate between a subject-centered and a system-centered analysis. A subject-centered analysis organizes ecological and social variables by weighing them according to their importance in specific competitive strategies. A systemcentered analysis reveals how the implementation of strategies alters the quality and distribution of ecological and social resources for the next round of competition.

A subject-centered analysis is also required in order to account for the dynamics of political development. Political development should be attributed to the efforts of individuals to advance their goals of material advantage and social esteem by joining factions or class alliances that prosecute their interests in competition with opposing factions or classes. Competition occurs within a structure or matrix of ecological resources, social relations, and cultural rules and values, which constrain behavior but which also provide opportunities for innovation. The growth of political complexity, marked by the emergence of larger, more centralized polities with greater degrees of vertical and horizontal differentiation, is an epiphenomenal consequence of the strategies and counter-strategies employed by leaders and followers engaged in factional competition and elites and commoners locked in class struggle (see Clark and Blake, Chapter 2). The methodological individualism at the basis of this formulation might be criticized as a projection of the competitive, self-seeking, pragmatic ideology of Western capitalist society. This is partially true, although the problem is ameliorated by situating self-interested competition in specific ecological, social, cultural, and historical contexts. Even so, such a formulation might be inappropriate for analyzing the more expressive and solidary aspects of social life. However, an assumption of competitive, self-seeking, pragmatic social actors is eminently suited to the analysis of factional competition, for, as Earle (1987:294) observes, factional competition, which is inherently a competitive, pragmatic process, requires a maximizing strategy (see also Bailey 1969:36-7). The subject-centered/system-centered approach to factional competition and political development adopted in this volume contrasts sharply with the exclusively system-centered focus of both cultural ecology and structural Marxism, currently the two most popular theories for explaining political change in ancient societies. Both cultural ecology and structural Marxism focus upon strictly bounded, culturally distinct social groups. In cultural ecology, the social unit is defined by external boundaries, created by geographic isolation and by the competitive relationships that develop between populations under conditions of resource scarcity (Sanders and Price 1968; Carneiro 1970; Ferguson 1984). In structural Marxism, the social unit is defined by its internal organization of social production and reproduction under a guiding set of social rules and practices ("structures") (Friedman 1975; Godelier 1977:63).

Introduction

13

Both cultural ecology and structural Marxism postu- duction, and social and ideological superstructure) late the narrow constraint of human behavior and deci- resulting in structural reorganization (Friedman 1975; sion making within these systems: by stringent consider- Godelier 1977:63, Bloch 1983:154). Power is not conations of energetic efficiency in cultural ecology (Price structed by individuals, but rather falls to certain people 1982:719) and by the limits of structurally determined as a consequence of the prevailing cultural rules, consciousness in structural Marxism (Godelier especially those allocating resources, labor, and product 1978:768). These same constraints operate equally for all (Godelier 1978; Bender 1985). In the initial phases of members of society, implying a condition of cultural political complexity and social inequality, the conferring homogeneity for human groups. of superordinate status occurs with the consent of subBased upon such assumptions, cultural ecology and ordinate groups, with superordinate status falling to structural Marxism supply accounts of the growth of poli- those who mediate between humans and deities, i.e. tical complexity that are quite different from the one pro- those who control the imaginary means of social reproposed in this volume. Cultural ecologists believe that duction through religious ritual (Friedman and Rowincipient political complexity occurs as a normal part of lands 1978; Godelier 1986:156-64; Bender 1985). the array of random, low-level cultural variation present Like cultural ecology, this account of political develin all populations (Price 1982:724). However, political opment is deficient. Its principal difficulty is that it complexity begins to grow only after population pressure postulates consensus within the body politic prior to the has created the need to intensify production within emergence of class and class struggle. While the consent groups and to compete for resources belonging to others of followers is certainly needed by leaders in the very first (Sanders and Price 1968; Carneiro 1970; Webster 1975; stages of political complexity (Clark and Blake, Chapter Ferguson 1984; Johnson and Earle 1987:16-18). Through 2; Spencer, Chapter 3; Redmond, Chapter 4), evidence in either expansion or emulation, the beliefs and practices this volume and elsewhere suggests that coercion and not that result in larger groups with greater ability to organize consensus is a dominant motif in complex chiefdoms and production and warfare prevail within a region. The con- is absolutely pervasive in agrarian states. centration of wealth, coercive power, and prestige in the Cultural ecology and structural Marxism differ from hands of political leaders contributes to managerial the approach taken in this volume in yet another way. capacity by giving leaders the ability to coordinate larger, They both postulate strict behavioral determinism while more complex populations (Webster 1975, 1976). this volume takes seriously the impact of human purpose, This formulation can be criticized on two grounds. creativity, and choice. This difference derives from the First, it proposes that population pressure and resource number of variables employed by each of the analyses. shortages are necessary to initiate the process of political Both cultural ecology and structural Marxism employ development and to maintain its progress. There is, models constructed of relatively few variables, which however, empirical evidence to the contrary, presented necessarily limits human choice and agency to a few highly in this volume and elsewhere. Second, in analyzing the redundant options. As a consequence, human behavior concept of power, cultural ecologists focus attention on emerges as highly determined. In contrast, the studies in the energy used to maintain competing populations and this volume consider the rich complexity of competitive the information flows used to organize them (e.g., White strategizing, which involves the manipulation of every 1959; Price 1982; Wright 1969; Flannery 1972; Johnson conceivable ecological and social variable in complex and 1978). But they tend to ignore the relations of alliance contingent ways. In doing so, they broaden the dimenand dominance that brings organizational structures sions of human choice and leave room for the exercise of into existence and maintain them. The manipulation of human agency. Thus, the willingness to consider the full social relations is as important as the manipulation of complexity of specific historical situations restores the natural resources in the process of political development, concept of agency to the study of social change. a point which cultural ecologists tend to ignore (but not always, see Webster 1975, 1976; Spencer 1982). Acknowledgments Structural Marxists present an epigenetic model of Earlier drafts of this chapter were patiently read by John political development (Friedman and Rowlands 1978). Clark, Timothy Earle, John Fox, Roberto KorzeniePolitical change is not due to the goal-directed strategies wicz, Hattula Moholy-Nagy, Mary Pohl, and Glenn of political leaders but, rather, is a consequence of struc- Perusek. Their criticisms, comments, and line editing tural contradiction (that is, the incompatibility of the shaped the chapter in many important ways. I am grateinterlinked forces of production, relations of pro- ful for their help.

PART II

Chiefdoms

The power of prestige: competitive generosity and the emergence of rank societies in lowland Mesoamerica JOHN E. CLARK and MICHAEL BLAKE Introduction

Explanations of the origins of institutionalized social inequality and political privilege must resolve the central paradox of political life - why people cooperate with their own subordination and exploitation in noncoercive circumstances (Godelier 1986:13). In the following pages we address this paradox for an archaeological case from Mesoamerica. The first chiefdoms in lowland Mesoamerica, the focus of this discussion, appear to have developed some 3300 years ago among the Mokaya in the Mazatan region of Chiapas, Mexico, during the first part of the Early Formative, 1550-1150 BC (all dates are in radiocarbon years). This period also witnessed the adoption of maize agriculture in the coastal lowlands, the founding of sedentary villages, the adoption of ceramic technology, a rapid population increase, and the beginnings of patronized craft specialization. To explain these developments, we first offer a general model for the development of hereditary rank distinctions as the outcome of competition among political actors vying for prestige and social esteem. We then apply this model to the issues of technological and demographic change in the development of social inequality in the Mazatan region. Resources, prestige and privilege

It is difficult to imagine why people would voluntarily submit to non-egalitarian political systems. Despite this perception, the institutionalization of political privilege may have been quite simple; it may at first have been in

people's best interest. Nowadays, in addressing this issue, we are hindered by hindsight and evolutionist and functionalist thinking that regards change as reaction to existing social problems. Binford (1983:221), for example, states: "When I am faced with a question such as why complex systems come into being, my first reaction is to ask what problem people were attempting to solve by a new means." As will become clear, we disagree with this perspective. The development of social inequality was neither a problem nor a solution. Rather, it was a long-term, unexpected consequence of many individuals promoting their own aggrandizement. Briefly, we argue that the transition from egalitarian to rank societies was a process that occurred on a regional scale under special historical and technoenvironmental circumstances. The engine for change was self-interested competition among political actors vying for prestige or social esteem. We refer to such political entrepreneurs as "aggrandizers," paralleling Hayden and Gargett's (1990) term "accumulators." Over time, some aggrandizers became chiefs with institutionalized authority. Parlaying temporary prestige into legitimate authority was the key process. Primary assumptions

Our view of the origins of social inequality rests on several propositions concerning human action, the formation of factions, and the creation and deployment of physical and social resources. Our most critical assumptions concern culture, society, and individual behavior. Social systems are regularized practices. They lack reason, purpose, or needs and are incapable of adaptation (Giddens 1979:7). Only the actors within a system share these attributes and are capable of adaptive response. Purposive, motivated action becomes the point of articulation between structure and the human agent (Vincent 1978; Giddens 1979; Callinicos 1988). Importantly, such action often sparks unintended consequences for the system. It is clear that actors are constrained by past practice (history of system and structure) and opportunities for future practice (e.g., available technology, physical and social environment, personal social networks, etc.). Each actor knows a great deal about his/her social system and its constraints and limits under varying circumstances even to the extent that (s)he can manipulate aspects of the system for personal advantage. We presume a primary motivation of self-interested action based upon culturally bound rational choice (i.e., "minimal rationality," see Cherniak 1986). Obviously, individual 17

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John E. Clark and Michael Blake

motivations, desires, and reasons for action cannot be the same for everyone (Callinicos 1988). Where numerous people pursue self-interests, their interaction is characterized by frequent conflicts of interests, internal social tensions, and social constraints on behavior. Specifically, in emergent chiefdoms or transegalitarian societies, we postulate the necessary presence of ambitious males (aggrandizers) competing for prestige within a regional setting.l Aggrandizers do not strive to become chiefs; the end result of political competition cannot be foreseen by participants in the system. Aggrandizers simply strive to become more influential. It is the successful deployment of resources and labor that ultimately ensures the social and political longevity of an aggrandizer, and only certain environments can sustain such behavior on a regional scale and a chronic basis (Hayden and Gargett 1990). Competition for "prestige" consists of rivalry for continual public recognition by supporters (with access to their resources). Prestige is maintained by establishing a coalition of loyal supporters, or a faction (Salisbury and Silverman 1977; Bailey 1977). In this view, vying for prestige is the equivalent of competing for people or their labor power and support (Binford 1983:219; see also Sahlins 1968:89-90; Gulliver 1977:44; Silverman 1977:72; Price 1984). It also involves competition over the "management of meaning" and "interpretation of behavior and relationships" (Cohen and Comaroff 1976:102); this probably relates to the emphasis on oratory among tribal leaders (Clastres 1977). Although our argument requires the presence of a particular personality type, we consider psychology a constant. Ambitious individuals are probably present in most societies. The presence of such individuals is a necessary but insufficient condition for the transition to non-egalitarian systems. Structure and social system

We assume that "all social systems, whatever their structure, contain the seeds of inequality" (Josephides 1985:1; see also Beteille 1977). We do not view social evolution as unfolding from inner forces, but we do maintain that all egalitarian systems mask fundamental structural contradictions which necessitate leveling mechanisms to assert egalitarianism (Woodburn 1982; Matson 1985; Lee 1990). Cohen (1974:78) argues that all social systems involve hierarchy, which suggests the presence of leadership with attendant prestige, no matter how ephemeral. In egalitarian groups, hierarchy is likely to be based on age,

gender, and aptitude. Rivalries for temporary hierarchical positions develop among many of those with requisite ability to fill them. In addition to social differentiation, all societies require a system of social evaluation (Beteille 1977:9). These two necessary conditions for any society lay the basis of social inequalities. In our model we assume egalitarian groups or communities where great latitude exists in the degree to which individuals may maneuver for prestige, that is, societies in which prestige is possible, personal ambition is allowed, and agents have control over the fruits of some of their labor. The deployment of resources (or property) as actors see fit involves usufruct rights within a defined territory (Sack 1986, Hayden 1990). Two more specific aspects of structure and social system inform our model. The first concerns biological reproduction. We concur with Friedman and Rowlands (1978:204) that "reproduction is an areal phenomenon in which a number of separate social units are linked in a large system" (see Wobst 1974). Furthermore, we assume patrilocality, with patrilineal descent favored but not strictly necessary (cf. Allen 1984; Coontz and Henderson 1986). Environment and technology

Considerations of the environment should acknowledge actors with conventional perceptions and constructions of their "world" in symbolic interaction with other people and objects (Blumer 1969:11). In short, "nature" (including resources, physical features, and concepts of space and distance) is subject to interpretive shifts and even manipulation by interested individuals within a given social system (Sack 1986; Helms 1988). Using these resources, aggrandizers compete for "prestige"; competition over physical resources is not an end in itself. Nature is handed a passive role in this process. Resources and technology circumscribe individual choice but otherwise neither impede nor promote social competition or development. Only certain kinds of environments and resources will sustain escalating exploitation by aggrandizers. Resources must be accessible, productive, and relatively immune to normal environmental perturbations (Coupland 1985:219; Matson 1985) - characteristics of rselected species, such as fish, rodents, and cereals (Hayden 1986, 1990). Resource availability and productivity determine potential levels of accumulation for social display and competition. In addition, the periodicity and extent of resource shortfalls is critical to the development of political inequality on a permanent basis.

The power of prestige

19

The environment must be productive enough to and establish significant ties to individuals elsewhere, support a rapidly growing labor force, the followers preferably other aggrandizers who also seek outside conattached to an aggrandizer. In other words, aggrandizers tacts. The physical and social resources and knowledge fair best in "intensifiable habitats" (Price 1984:225). Of thus gained allow an aggrandizer to compete more course, the elasticity of a habitat to labor influx varies effectively within his own community. The aggrandizer according to basic technology, social relations of pro- capitalizes upon innovation and risk taking (Schmookler 1984:28). Enhancing prestige through innovation duction, and subsistence techniques. Any transition to a non-egalitarian system requires depends on an aggrandizer's ability to convince the emergence of new practices as a necessary prelude to potential beneficiaries/clients of the value of his structural change. And these must be maintained and innovations. financed long enough to make the practices habitual The conversion of external resources into social lever(Berger and Luckmann 1966; Bourdieu 1977). There- age locally requires (near) exclusive access to outside fore, factional leaders must have access to important goods, material, or information (Gosden 1989). This resources continuously over a period of years or even also allows the aggrandizer to operate partially outside decades (Binford 1983:219; Earle 1987:294). One or two the sanctioning norms of his local group, where local bad seasons can undo years of public posturing, faction norms are more ambiguous and easier to manipulate. building, and prestations, with loss-of-face and Our model presumes a plurality of structurally similar, depletion of stored resources and social credits. autonomous social groups or communities within a While resource productivity and reliability act as region and a complex web of rivalry and cooperation relaxed restraints on individual action, they alone cannot among aggrandizers and their supporters, in what has explain the specific location, timing, or extent of social been called "peer polity interaction" (Renfrew and development. An equally important consideration is the Cherry 1986). geographic configuration of resources and physical Even the first steps of an aggrandizer's career involve features which channel communication and social inter- interaction both within and beyond his home commuaction. nity. Building renown commences in the nuclear unit of production. An aggrandizer first accumulates deployable resources by the sweat of his brow, and through the Demography, social interaction, and rank efforts of his wife (wives) and children. The more wives Demographic increase does not and cannot force people and children the better (Coontz and Henderson 1986). to invent and adopt non-egalitarian social formations Since intensified resource procurement is a consequence (Netting 1990). Although there is a strong correlation of increased labor input, it follows that larger families between population size and level of sociopolitical com- may produce larger surpluses to invest in prestige complexity (Cohen 1985; Keeley 1988), we view population petition. Multiple wives also provide the aggrandizer as a necessary precondition or threshold phenomenon. with a larger group of affines for exchange partnerships Population must reach a certain size and density before (Strathern 1966:360). In addition, multiple wives engenthe complex social interactions that lead to the emer- der more offspring who later become a source of additional alliances (Redmond, Chapter 4). gence of rank can occur. Both intra- and inter-community interactions are The potential for social development of a community essential in faction building (see Spencer, Chapter 3). is a function of its access to social resources, notably Interaction within (1) the community, (2) the region, and people in neighboring communities and kinship struc(3) various regions (the area) includes both positive and tures. Such access depends upon relative topographic negative social discourse, from trade and marriage to position within the region (Johnson 1977:492). Some warfare (Price 1977, 1984). Cooperation and com- basic features of the landscape (e.g., mountains, petition are complementary principles. To compete canyons, and rough ocean) will inhibit travel and comeffectively, aggrandizers require the cooperation and munication to some areas; other features (e.g., mountain support of indebted clients, probably including many passes, fords, and navigable rivers) funnel social contact kin, and other patrons or trade partners. Competition is into specific areas. Inherent potential for travel, coupled undertaken to maintain or enlarge this cooperative unit with distribution of critical resources, delimits settleor interest group. ment locations, sizes, population densities, permanence, Effective competition at the community level requires and future growth. Some communities will be central aggrandizers to traffic outside their home communities and others peripheral to critical natural and social

20

A.

John E. Clark and Michael Blake

Unrestricted

B. Linear

= 4.4

x=l.7

resources. So too, some people are more centrally placed than others vis-a-vis various social and physical resources and can avail themselves of this advantage. Thus, some aggrandizers will be better placed than others to mobilize resources. Those with the most numerous or strongest ties to different outside resources should be best off. The settlement pattern may be linear or non-linear (or open). In linear settlement systems, each aggrandizer has unimpeded access to only one or two significant neighboring groups, as shown in Fig. 2.1. In open settlement systems, however, potential for interaction varies significantly from center to periphery; a community's territory can border the territories of two to six neighboring groups. Note the difference in mean interaction between linear and open systems shown in Fig. 2.1. Centrally placed aggrandizers within open settlement systems enjoy an advantage with more possibilities for intergroup alliances and for manipulating the ambiguities of several different systems for their own benefit. We expect social change at focal points of regional social interaction, or in the central sectors of open settlement systems. Rank societies emerge within a network of interacting groups. One society does not hoist itself from one social level to another; the process involves the simultaneous emergence of a network of chiefdoms from a network of interacting chiefs. In this sense, all pristine developments are secondary developments dependent on outside resources, alliances, and events. However, the process is irreversible in most instances. Because social competition is elevated to a new level among a plurality of like units, there is no practical way to reverse the process - and little incentive for doing so. Structural and systemic changes shift the conditions for future development and possibilities for action. Perks, persuasion, and clientage

Fig. 2.1 Measures of interaction in unrestricted (A) and linear (B) networks.

Returning to the question of the emergence of institutionalized inequality, why would individuals in a subordinate position surrender their liberty, equality, and fraternity to a non-egalitarian system? Traditionally, two answers have been proposed, one emphasizing voluntary "social contracts" and the other stressing "coercion" (Service 1975). Both proposals have serious flaws. Theories of coercion often stress the importance of warfare and conquest in the construction of social inequality. Raiding does play an important role in emerging systems of inequality as one way that leaders can gain reputation and undercut the prestige of rivals

The power of prestige

(Kirch 1984:197), seize booty that can be shared with one's followers, or even obtain captives (Redmond, Chapter 4). Of equal importance is the hostile "meaning" attributed to the exterior social environment and the increased prestige accrued by successful negotiation in that domain. But theories based upon conquest and subjugation are inappropriate for egalitarian societies (see Fried 1967:213-23; also Otterbein's 1985: Ch.2 for a cross-cultural study of war). On the other hand, social contract theories are all teleological and/or functional and thus logically flawed (see Dahrendorf 1968:165; Fischer 1970:155). In contrast to either of these theories, we suggest that social inequality was an unanticipated consequence of aggrandizers vying for followers. Aggrandizers cannot force anyone to join their group or faction. Followers must be persuaded, coaxed, cajoled, begged, bribed, and otherwise won over. Consequently, aggrandizer strategies and tactics for persuasion must appear to conform to the self-interests of their followers (Doob 1983:41; Bailey 1988; Spencer, Chapter 3). Simply put, followers tag along because they benefit from doing so, retaining the option of shifting their loyalty to other aggrandizers should enough benefits not be forthcoming (Wolf 1966:17). The most successful aggrandizers are those who provide the most physical, social, and/or spiritual benefits to the most people on the most reliable basis. Thus, aggrandizers are strongly motivated to increase rewards through increased production and innovation. Aggrandizers and followers, as social creditors and debtors, construct complex webs of relationships as they interact on different levels (see Lederman 1986). These relationships are in constant flux and vary according to the particular dyadic relationships considered. An aggrandizer can be creditor to his group and at the same time be indebted to other powerful partners (Strathern 1966). All successful aggrandizers begin as followers of powerful patrons and acquire prestige from their prestigious mentors. The self-aggrandizing process is fundamentally a political one based upon the simple principle of reciprocity. We view personal generosity as the key competitive process for forging a coalition of clients (Price 1984:2245). Aggrandizer gifts are eventually returned by their followers in reciprocal exchanges. When this is not possible, unreciprocated benefits create obligations of social indebtedness which become deployable social resources themselves (Blau 1964; Sahlins 1968:88; Orenstein 1980; Gosden 1989). Periodically aggrandizers must "draw on the fund of good will" (Paynter and Cole 1980:66)

21

created by previous acts of generosity to mobilize labor and resources. The most successful aggrandizers are those who can maintain a positive balance of generosity and "gift-credits" (Lederman 1986); they give more than they receive. This puts them in a socially superior position which, if sustained long enough, can lead to the institutionalization of social inequalities (Friedman 1975; Hayden and Gargett 1990). Apical rank societies or chiefdoms are clearly prefigured in the organization of personal followings or factions. Rank or chiefdom societies, however, can only be said to be truly in place when special privileges get passed on to the leader's heirs. "Attention to processes of consolidation of power shifts the focus from individual actors to families" (Vincent 1978:187). The general process of establishing succession is clear. Men of wealth, renown, and influence can create opportunities for favored dependants, "to effect differential patterns of marriage choice" (Wolf 1966:6). Strategies for passing benefits to heirs may also involve creation of heritable wealth through patronized craft production (Clark and Parry 1990) or monopolization of important outside resources (Gosden 1989). Orenstein (1980:76) demonstrates that "rules of inheritance" are the key; we would also add marriage rules and arrangements (Friedman and Rowlands 1978; Collier 1988). To become habitual, at least two generations are probably needed to allow for the socialization of the majority of a society's members to the changed social reality. Summary

Our model of structural transformation considers historical antecedents (system and structure sensu Giddens), environment and technology, scales of social interaction, and human agency, action, and personality. It focuses upon "action" rather than "reaction" (i.e., in response to ecological variables). In particular, the main motivation is the self-interested pursuit of prestige, or competition for followers, using a strategy of competitive generosity. Forming a coalition is inherently competitive. Successful competition involves elements of luck, chance, personality, and mobilization of social and physical resources over a continuous period. As the process depends on an unpredictable concatenation of factors and contexts negotiated in social interaction, we cannot predict specific timing nor precise location of initial occurrence within a generally favorable environmental and demographic milieu.

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The Mokaya and the origins of rank Background The Mazatan region lies in the highly productive section of the southern Chiapas coast known as the Soconusco an area long famed for its productivity (Voorhies 1990). Mazatan consists of closely packed environmental zones, with a narrow, low-lying coastal plain sandwiched between a linear beach/estuary complex and the formidable piedmont/Sierra Madre mountain range 20-30 km inland (Fig. 2.2). Specialized hamlets were located within the estuary system, but the largest Early Formative communities occupied the central strip of the coastal plain, between 10-15 m above sea level. The plain is crossed by numerous abandoned river channels radiating in a semicircular fan; until twenty years ago these served as runoff channels during the rainy season and supported garden plots at the end of the dry season. These seasonal rivers and streams divided the tropical forest into a patchy mosaic of trees, shrubs, small lagoons, and swamps, ideal for a great variety and density of small fauna. The abundance of game is implicit in the Aztec name - Mazatan, "place of the deer."

Late Archaic (Chantuto phase) shell middens in the estuary zone probably represent seasonal accumulations from occupations by residentially mobile hunter/fisher/ gatherers (Voorhies 1976, 1990). Towards the end of the Late Archaic the Chantuto people engaged in longdistance exchange for highland Guatemalan obsidian (Nelson and Voorhies 1980). The Early Formative transition began about 1550 BC, or 200 years after the last reliable data on the Archaic. The Barra phase (1550-1400 BC) witnessed the founding of sedentary villages, presumably with agriculture, and the introduction of ceramics. We refer to these Early Formative villagers as the "Mokaya," an indigneous term meaning "corn people." The estuary shell middens saw only minimal use after the Chantuto phase (Voorhies 1976), perhaps as a consequence of a shift in the settlement-subsistence system from residential mobility to sedentism. Hints of rank distinctions first appear towards the end of the Barra phase, with more convincing evidence for the following Locona phase, beginning about 1400 BC. Briefly, the indicators of Locona rank systems are (1) a two-tiered settlement pattern comprising small villages and hamlets centered around large villages, (2) elite and non-elite domestic architecture (Blake, Clark, Feddema et al. 1993), (3) differential mortuary practices, (4) unequal access to sumptuary goods and long-distance imports, (5) attached craft specialization centered around elite housemounds, and (6) redistribution within each large community (Clark 1991). Artisans made ceramic vessels and figurines, elaborate carved stone bowls that imitated fancy ceramic forms, greenstone beads, and, perhaps, textiles and cordage. The following events or processes are implicated in the emergence of rank in the Mazatan region: (1) a shift from residential mobility to sedentism; (2) increased emphasis on agriculture, including the adoption of highland cultigens such as corn and beans; (3) the beginnings of ceramic technology; (4) rapid population growth; and (5) the beginning of craft specialization. Rather than causal, these processes are probably all related as secondary indicators of a more fundamental process of prestige building and competitive generosity. In the remainder of this paper we assess the roles of (1) population pressure, (2) the adoption of ceramic technology, and (3) the beginnings of agriculture in this process as it evolved in the Mazatan area.

Population pressure As presented by Carneiro (1970), population pressure on Fig. 2.2 Environmental zones of the Mazatan region. limited resources provokes agricultural intensification

The power of prestige

and, later, when this temporary measure proves inadequate, wars of conquest and subjugation. In this view, the transition to institutionalized inegalitarianism occurs within a circumscribed zone once the limits of its carrying capacity are exceeded. Our hypothesis of competing aggrandizers turns Malthus on his head. The objective of competitive generosity is to attract more followers to one's locale and to foment rapid population growth, including local increases in family sizes and fertility rates. The emergence of rank is coupled with strategies that bring more people into a zone that is well below carrying capacity (see Kirch 1984). Rank emerges in regions able to absorb this increased population without deleterious effect. Increase in local population is achieved through mechanisms such as promoting immigration, younger marriage, a higher birth rate, or even the capture of slaves. In the Mazatan area, competition among aggrandizers for secondary wives could have effectively lowered the age of marriage for women, and consequently increased the fertility rate (see Hayden 1992). We expect the emergence of rank societies to occur well below carrying capacity. The process as we see it results from a long-term distribution of benefits rather than the exercise of naked force.

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The uniformity in subsistence tools and remains during the Early Formative suggests that the carrying capacity of Mazatan was virtually constant throughout this period; it may even have increased slightly as the number of fallow fields increased (creating a greater "edge" effect), and with genetic improvements in cultigens such as corn (Kirkby 1973). Survey data for the zone provide the basis for the demographic estimates shown in Fig. 2.3. This population curve is based upon the estimated hectares of occupation per phase for a 50 km2 survey block of 100 percent coverage. As Fig. 2.3 demonstrates, the first major shift in population corresponds to the emergence of rank societies, countering the predictions of population pressure advocates. Interestingly, the next major change anticipated another important political shift in the zone from a network of simple chiefdoms to a single paramount chiefdom. Had the transition to rank society been prompted by population pressure, one would expect it to have taken place at or shortly after the peak of demographic growth (i.e., near carrying capacity). Wars of conquest, as argued by Carneiro (1970), merely reshuffle usufruct rights of critical resources rather than provide a basis for additional growth. In contrast, population growth as part of the transformation process should evince rapid change to the degree that nascent leaders compete for followers. The Mazatan data support the notion of population growth as outcome of social complexity rather than cause. Although settlement survey coverage of adjacent areas is not complete, available data suggest that during the Early Formative period the Mazatan area was ringed by uninhabited or sparsely occupied land, signaling the absence of any environmental or social circumscription and, of equal importance, some population movement from these areas into the Mazatan region. Ceramic technology

Radiocarbon years be

Fig. 2.3 Population estimates for the Mazatan region during the Early Formative period. Estimates are based upon a 50 km2 survey block.

Technological and ecological explanations of the origins of Mesoamerican ceramics cannot account for the technical and aesthetic sophistication of the early ceramics from coastal Chiapas and Guatemala. Barra-phase ceramics (Fig. 2.4) from the Mazatan area are currently the earliest securely dated examples (1550-1400 BC) in Mesoamerica, but these thin-walled, hard ceramics are finely finished and elaborately decorated (bichromes, trichromes, incised, grooved, carved, fluted, and gadrooned). This assemblage is clearly well developed, suggesting an origin and development elsewhere. Alternatively, some investigators conjecture that earlier, less

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Fig. 2.4 Reconstruction of Barra vessels from the Mazatan region. complex ceramics will yet be found in the Soconusco region. Were these early ceramics a local development, or were they brought in from elsewhere? Both Coe (1960) and Lowe (1975) speculate about Central or South American origins. But with the benefit of more complete assemblages from Mazatan and the areas to the south, we now recognize only vague similarities between the Mazatan pottery and pottery from Central and South America. Notable, however, are (1) the apparent temporal progression of the earliest ceramic assemblages as one moves northward from Ecuador to Mesoamerica (Hoopes 1987) and (2) the stylistic dissimilarities among adjacent early assemblages. The Central and South American data suggest that the earliest Mokaya did adopt the basic ceramic technology from people to the south. Central questions, then, are (1) why they chose to adopt pottery when they did, (2) what functions the pottery served, and (3) how the process of

adoption occurred. We argue that the adoption of ceramics was a result of competition among aggrandizers who brought in foreign technology and products as part of their pursuit of prestige. To place this hypothesis in perspective, we need to consider probable historical antecedents to the adoption of ceramics. First, we postulate the presence of numerous aggrandizers within the Mazatan region and a dynamic egalitarian network - a society of complex hunter-fisher-gatherers (see Price and Brown 1985). Second, these hunter-fisher-gatherers inhabited the zone for at least 2000 years prior to the adoption of ceramics (Blake, Clark, Voorhies et al. 1993). Undoubtedly, the adaptation of these archaic Chantuto foragers to their tropical coastal environment already included viable container technology and food preparation techniques. The adoption of ceramic technology, therefore, involved the replacement of some perishable containers with ceramic vessels. Attributes of the first

The power of prestige

25

TECOMATES 89.4 %

Fig. 2.5 Percentages of vessel types in the Barra ceramic assemblage. ceramic vessels suggest they served a specialized function. All Barra ceramics are finely made, flat-bottomed tecomates or deep incurved bowls (Figs. 2.4 and 2.5). To date, no plain, unslipped, undecorated vessels have been recovered. Ceramic vessels mimic gourd forms (Lowe 1975; Marcus 1983a). We suggest these first ceramic vessels copied then extant fancy gourd vessels. All the techniques used to embellish the surface of Barra pots are still used today to decorate gourds (see Lathrap 1977). Such techniques may have been used initially to decorate gourds and only later transferred to the new ceramic medium. We postulate that aggrandizers borrowed foreign

ceramic technology for personal advantage in displays of competitive feasting. The aggrandizers might have sent someone to the pottery-producing areas to learn the techniques (or gone themselves) or, alternatively, sponsored a potter to come to the Mazatan region. But if ceramic technology was brought in fully developed, how do we explain the differences in pottery styles in the borrowing area (Mazatan) and the donor area (Central America)? If gourd vessels (which may have been elaborately decorated and expensive) were already functioning in a competitive sphere of public/ritual display, the containers most likely imitated by ceramic forms would have been stylistically elaborate and socially bounded already. That is, vessel style would

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Fig. 2.6 Reconstruction of Locona vessels from Mazatan region. already have been socially meaningful or semantically complex within special social contexts (cf. Steinberg 1977). Producing these vessels in a new and more expensive medium (fired clay) would have enhanced their value but not tampered with meaningful social conventions. In contrast, the direct transfer of foreign vessel forms and styles would not have been immediately meaningful, in traditional conventions, and may have been of less value to those seeking prestige through conspicuous consumption. McCracken (1987) demonstrates that material codes, unlike language codes, lack generative capacity or combinatorial freedom. To recombine the stylistic elements into a new form is to render them meaningless. The material code (or combination of elements) must be known in advance to be culturally meaningful in social interaction. Consequently, different social messages are conveyed by local and foreign styles. Technological transfer in a milieu of competing aggrandizers can account for those aspects of ceramic

technology that previous investigators found puzzling. It would explain (1) the timing of the adoption, (2) vessel style or exterior decoration, (3) vessel forms, (4) workmanship, (5) the general function of these first ceramic vessels, and (6) the development of ceramics during the following phases. Timing was dictated by the heightened level of social competition in Mazatan. Vessel style and forms were predicated upon the style and forms of the non-ceramic ritual/feasting vessels already functioning in competitive social displays; all that changed was the base material and some processes of surface manipulation and finish. The sociopolitical functions of pottery also account for the superior quality of the first vessels (they were preciosities) and the unexpected absence of plain, utilitarian vessels. Functions later relegated to plain pottery continued to be performed, in the Barra phase, by gourds or jicaras, net bags, and baskets. Unslipped pottery became more common during the following Locona phase, a time when techniques of

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PLATES and DISHES

Fig. 2.7

Percentages of vessel types in the Locona ceramic assemblage.

ceramic manufacture were more widely known and consequently less "expensive," and probably when the use of ceramic vessels in competitive displays had lost its novelty. Barra vessels do not appear to have been designed or used for cooking; instead, they are appropriate for preparing and serving liquids (Figs. 2.4 and 2.5).2 Large quantities of fire-cracked rock, dating to the Barra and early Locona phases, may indicate non-ceramic-vessel cooking techniques such as roasting and/or stone boiling. But during the Locona phase (Fig. 2.6), cooking wares were introduced, and the frequency of fire-cracked rocks declined. In sum, we suspect that ceramics were initially adopted more for their power to impress others in competitive social displays than for their culinary potential in food preparation. We argue that the first Barra ceramics mimicked func-

tionally specialized gourd vessels and that the range of forms increased with time as ceramic technology was applied to other functions. We would expect to see an increasing diversity of functional types over time and a greater range of execution (fancy vs. plain pottery). In addition, the per capita consumption of functionally analogous vessels should remain constant between phases. All these trends are evident in Barra phase (Figs. 2.4 and 2.5) and Locona phase (Figs. 2.6 and 2.7) ceramics. Ceramic diversity increased through time with a Locona-phase proliferation of fancy dishes and plates as well as relatively plain tripod tecomates, perhaps used for storage and/or boiling. Consumption rates between phases, as gauged by ceramic counts per volume of excavated fill, remained remarkably constant for highly polished, slipped, decorated tecomates (Table 2.1). The

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Table 2.1. Consumption of tecomates during the Early domesticated maize were still not fully sedentary agriFormative, based upon the minimum number of individual culturalists at this time (MacNeish 1964; Flannery and (MNI) pots. MNI calculated by refitting and analyzing Marcus 1983c; Flannery 1986); Mesoamerican corn was rim sherds not that productive 4000 years ago. In line with our model, we suggest that maize may have been adopted as a status food and not as some sort of far-sighted, preBarra phase* Locona phase* Tecomates historic agricultural improvement project. We should MNI MNI/m3 MNI MNI/m3 not assume that plants were imported to Mazatan 4000 years ago for reasons having to do with their function Fancy, slipped 74 9.7 118 10.0 today. Grooved 6 0.8 44 3.7 We have argued that Barra ceramics were designed for Plain 0 0.0 44 3.7 liquids, presumably liquids with ritual significance and Total 17.4 80 10.5 206 prestige value for the giver. Maize may have been part of this complex, introduced to the coastal area prior to the adoption of ceramics primarily for making corn beer, or * based upon 7.5 m3 of deposit. chicha. Alternatively, it may have been used with choco** based upon 11.8 m3 of deposit. late or as a drink in its own right such as atole; atole is still an important ritual drink in Chiapas. Hayden (1990) smaller proportion of fancy tecomates in the Locona argues that the domestication of plants and animals ceramic assemblage (Fig. 2.7) results from the addition resulted from their deployment as status foods. While of new forms, including utilitarian tecomates, rather this may not explain the development of agriculture, it than a decreased use of fancy tecomates during the may explain the spread of some cultigens. Use of corn as Locona phase. a ritual ingredient, or as an alcoholic beverage could explain (1) the initial importation and special cultivation Beginning of agriculture of this unproductive highland cereal, (2) the rarity of The first clear evidence of agriculture in the Mazatan seed-processing implements, and (3) the minor contriregion consists of domesticates brought in from the bution of maize in the overall diet during the Early highlands. This may be another example of aggrandizers Formative period. appropriating materials from outside areas in their never-ending quest for self-promotion (see Hayden 1990). Domesticated corn and beans were both clearly Summary and conclusions present in Mazatan by Locona times, and we suspect Our explanation of the emergence of permanent social that these highland cultigens were first brought into the inequality from egalitarian sociopolitical structures rests area during the Late Archaic. But several lines of evi- on six propositions: dence suggest that maize may not have been very important in the diet. We cannot evaluate the importance of 1. Egalitarian social systems contain the seeds of perbeans at this time. manent social inequality in their structure of age, kin, gender, and aptitude distinctions. Corn cobs in Locona deposits are quite small (3-4 cm long) and not very productive. Our analysis of C13/C12 2. The development of permanent social inequality is an ratios from twenty-eight human bone collagen samples unanticipated consequence of individuals pursuing spanning the Late Archaic to Late Postclassic periods self-interests and personal aggrandizement. show that maize (or other C-4 plants) was not a sig- 3. Temporary positions of prestige become hereditary nificant part of the diet until the Middle Formative and legitimate positions of authority under limited Conchas phase (c. 850-650 BC). For all Early Formative social and natural environmental conditions. samples, the stable carbon isotope ratios are as low as 4. These changes result from the purposive action of those for hunter/fisher/gatherers in many other regions individuals pursuing individual strategies and of the world (Blake, Chisholm et al 1992). agendas within the structural constraints of their cultural system. We suggest that the adoption of maize may have been linked to the adoption of ceramic technology. Clearly, 5. The engine of change is competition for prestige maize was imported into a system already self-sufficient constituted as public recognition of status, rights, and in basic foodstuffs. Even the highland peoples who responsibilities - among a network of aggrandizers.

The power of prestige

6. Effective competition within one's community requires that aggrandizers traffic outside their respective communities and establish enduring ties with individuals elsewhere. These propositions have archaeological implications that differ significantly from those generated by functionalist/ecological approaches. Ecological approaches see hierarchical, chiefly political organization as an adaptive, structural response to social/ecological needs. Therefore, to explain the change it is sufficient to document the conditions or needs stimulating the adaptive response. In contrast, we suggest that chiefdom emergence must be explained in terms of the political process. Anterior social structure as well as perceived environmental constraints shape the emergent system. This means that a great deal of variability may be expected in the paths to permanent inequality taken by different societies. Aggrandizers in different cultural-environmental contexts may employ some but not all of the various options available. Although the broad outlines of structural change may be similar, specific conditions of inequality will vary considerably from case to case as each will have its own history. But the focus on individual historical sequences need not degenerate into a particularistic view of social process that negates generalization and the search for patterns. Our model for the transition to institutionalized inequality has several implications which can be verified archaeologically for any test case. First, if the emergence of hereditary inequality is indeed an unanticipated consequence of competition among aggrandizers in transegalitarian systems, this transitional period from egalitarian societies to chiefdoms should appear, archaeologically, neither egalitarian nor ranked. Many of the standard trappings of chiefly societies will be absent during the transitional period because they are still unnecessary or, in some cases, not permitted. Once clear evidence of hereditary inequality appears, the transition is long past. On the other hand, if in emergent chiefdoms constraints to wealth accumulation and public display were undergoing modification, aggrandizers would be allowed to produce and distribute subsistence and craft items in excess of existing norms. Therefore, one might find archaeological evidence of elaboration and experimentation with status objects and social structures which might become embedded in subsequent chiefdoms. Second, change would be rapid in transitional societies because innovation would be useful for competing aggrandizers. In contrast, material culture, symbols, and

29

sociopolitical structure in both egalitarian societies and developed chiefdoms would be more stable with an emphasis on perpetuating the traditional bases of power. As sociopolitical structures develop so does the symbolism of chiefly power and inter-regional alliances. Their very existence leads to conservatism, thereby dampening their own rates of change. Elite competition within a chiefdom or among chiefdoms takes place within the newly established, legitimate symbol system based upon a limited range of recognized status markers (Anderson, Chapter 5). Radical and innovative change in symbol systems accompany major social structural changes. Third, aggrandizers, like big-men and chiefs, must control or maintain access to a large labor pool in order to sustain the high levels of production that both demonstrate and further their influence. Thus, an aggrandizer will value all innovations that (1) attract more followers and (2) increase production to sustain those followers. Novelties, whether arising from emulation or invention, will be valued, especially those items that can be controlled, managed, or manipulated by aggrandizers. In evaluating this model of chiefdom emergence we reviewed three lines of archaeological evidence as they relate to population dynamics, development of ceramic technology, and adoption of agriculture. As noted, we expect population growth and nucleation to occur during the transition to non-egalitarian society. At the very least, population should not remain stable or decline within the region of the aggrandizer interaction network as long as resources can be intensified and the system does not collapse. Survey data for the Mazatan region show significant population increase and nucleation during the early part of the Early Formative period. The first evidence of population growth is coeval with the first indications for competition among aggrandizers, during the Barra phase. This suggests that population growth and nucleation - and the increasing labor pool they imply - could have been consequences of social and political strategies. New technology is another expectation for a competitive political environment favoring innovation. In the Mokaya case, the first use of ceramics began during the Barra phase. These highly decorated and well-made ceramic containers were probably first used in beverage preparation and consumption as an adjunct to public feasting rather than in utilitarian functions such as cooking. Such activities would have been crucial for an aggrandizer trying to attract, impress, and retain followers. Finally, the adoption of agriculture in coastal Chiapas

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suggests a sociopolitical dynamic quite different from Hayden, Peter Peregrine, Elizabeth Brumfiel, and John those postulated for other parts of Mesoamerica. Maize Fox offered many constructive suggestions on previous and bean cultivation in the highland valleys go back drafts of this paper, for which we extend our appreciseveral millennia before the Chiapas Early Formative ation. The second half of this paper is a modification of period. By the Locona phase (c. 1350-1250 BC) in our paper presented at the Circum-Pacific conference. Mazatan, maize and beans were used frequently enough to enter the archaeological record. However, it was not until the Middle Formative that maize became sig- Notes nificant enough in the diet to influence the stable carbon 1 Our use of masculine pronouns is intentional. Female isotope ratio in human bone collagen. One possibility is aggrandizers remain a theoretical possibility, but their that aggrandizers adopted an agricultural complex as a minor representation in the ethnographic record means of growing new foods, one of which (maize) could requires explanation. An aggrandizer's competitive be used in making alcoholic beverages useful in competiability derives in large part from his immediate access tive feasting. They may also have cultivated a range of to the productive labor of his wife (or wives) and other plants of which we have no material evidence. children, a form of familial exploitation socially justiHowever, the faunal evidence clearly indicates that the fied by gender ideology. Schrijvers (1986:25-6) Early Formative Mokaya were fishers, hunters, and observes that "women cannot achieve political power gatherers. Hunter-fisher-gatherers in other highly pro[since] women cannot marry wives to work for them ductive regions of the world developed simple chiefand increase their wealth." doms. The Mokaya appear to have done so also. Maize 2 Two objections to our interpretation of Barra tecocultivation may have initially been a dietary supplement mates as vessels used for brewing, storing, and/or of greater political than nutritional value. serving liquids have been raised. First, tecomates are poorly designed to pour or dispense liquids - but Much more research remains to be done to underpouring liquids is not implicated in our argument. stand the transition from egalitarian to permanently Some of the smaller tecomates could have been passed ranked social organizations. We are confident, however, among participants, or participants could drink from that the avenues for inquiry suggested by a focus on one large tecomate with straws (illustrated by Katz transitional political processes differ substantially from and Voigt 1986:28, fig. 6a for the Tiriki of Kenya). traditional functionalist/ecological approaches Small gourd tecomates are still used by Maya groups especially those that consider established, early chiefin Chiapas for ritual drinking. The second objection, doms. Once the transitional process began, the sociothat large gourd tecomates are used today to store political order became fundamentally different, both tortillas and so may have served this function in the from what it had been and from what it was to become. past, stems from a naive use of ethnographic analogy. The first clear evidence of tortillas in Chiapas dates Acknowledgments only to the Early Postclassic period, c. AD 1000. If Our research was generously funded by the New World tortillas or tamales were involved with the function of Archaeological Foundation of Brigham Young Univerthese early ceramic vessels, we would expect to find sity, then directed by Gareth W. Lowe. We are grateful evidence of a greater contribution of corn to the diet for the opportunity to undertake the Mazatan Project. and evidence of using vessels in cooking. Barbara Stark, Barbara Voorhies, Jim Brown, Brian

Factional ascendance, dimensions of leadership, and the development of centralized authority CHARLES S. SPENCER

Introduction

This paper focuses on the processes and conditions that promote the perpetuation of centralized, but nonbureaucratic, authority. Patterns of leadership variability in uncentralized tribal societies are first examined, using examples from South American ethnography. The growth of central leadership in such systems is seen to be closely linked to the internal forces of factional development as well as to the external dynamics of interfactional and inter-community relations. The paper then discusses how the kind of achieved authority some call "big-man" leadership - a short-term phenomenon tied to a particular individual's political career - could be transformed into a permanent, institutionalized chiefly office in the trajectory of long-term (inter-generational) social reproduction. It is proposed that such a transformation, to be successful, requires the expansion, regularization, and close articulation of both the internal and the external dimensions of central leadership. The general points of the discussion are then applied to archaeological data from Barinas, Venezuela. Leadership dynamics in uncentralized societies

Anthropologists are showing increasing interest in patterns of social differentiation in uncentralized societies, those that lack formal institutions of central authority. Social status in such systems is based primarily on achievement during the course of an individual's lifetime, rather than on ascription at birth (Sillitoe 1978; Paynter and Cole 1980; Keesing 1983; Spencer 1987). And since the degree of one's success is strongly influ-

enced by such factors as personal intelligence, charisma, motivation, energy, social relations, and luck, the result can be a highly variable set of individual statuses over the short term. In a classic analysis of the dynamics of achieved leadership status, Sahlins offered the interesting suggestion that the individualized, achieved form of Melanesian authority known as big-man leadership has both internal and external dimensions, which he termed "centerman" and "man of renown," respectively (1963:289-90). "Center-man" refers to the internal political bond between the aspiring big-man and the local faction which supports him. It "connotes a cluster of followers gathered about an influential pivot. It socially implies the division of the tribe into political in-groups dominated by outstanding personalities" (p. 290). "Man of renown" refers to the external sector of political power, "the side of the big-man facing outward from his own faction, his status among some or all of the other political clusters of the tribe" (p. 290). Sahlins argued that the dynamics of achieved leadership are to a large extent expressed through the inter-relationships - at times mutually reinforcing, at times mutually contradictory between the internal and external dimensions of authority. Further, since the growth and decline of big-man authority is a process keyed to the careers of ambitious individuals, the result is the prolific generation of variability in leadership behavior over the short term (pp. 290-3). Achieved leadership is, of course, found in parts of the world besides Melanesia, and is particularly in evidence among tribal groups in lowland South America. The Mekranoti, a non-stratified and relatively unacculturated village of Kayapo Indians in Para state of central Brazil, refer to leadership by the native term benjadjwyr (Werner 1980:89-90). Although at the time of Dennis Werner's field work (1976-7) there was a single individual in the village, Bebgogoti, who exercised more influence than anyone else, and was called "the benjadjwyr" the indigenous term does not connote a titled, hereditary office (p. 12). Instead, benjadjwyr refers to a personal capacity to influence others, and is possessed to varying degrees by several members of the village, each of whom may be called a benjadjwyr (pp. 90-1). Among the personal qualities important in determining who becomes a benjadjwyr are intelligence, knowledge of customs and crafts, fighting ability, generosity, fecundity, breadth and depth of experience, age, and even physical size (Werner 1984:50-1). What Sahlins has called the center-man facet of achieved leadership is clearly manifested by the 31

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Charles S. Spencer

Mekranoti in the politics of intra-village factionalism. faction to abandon the village, but Werner reports no Bebgogoti's prominence derives to no small extent from cases in which a leader expanded his faction beyond the the fact that he is the benjadjwyr or leader of the larger of limits of his home village (pp. 42-54). the two major factions in the village, the men's society Success at factional competition, which I will call known as meotot or "the long-tongued people" (Werner factional ascendance, can generally be attributed to the 1980:34, 92; 1984:235). Another man, Kokoreti, is the personal qualities of the victorious benjadjwyr, but of benjadjwyr of the other men's society, the "armband further significance here is the external dimension of people" or medakadjat (Werner 1980:34, 90; 1984:235). benjadjwyr leadership in the broader, inter-community The relationship between each leader and his faction - arena. Werner's analysis reveals that generosity is one of the basis of the center-man dimension of benjadjwyr the strongest factors correlating with benjadjwyr influauthority - is often expressed ceremonially, in the form ence (p. 149). A central strategy for factional recruitof advice and direction from the benjadjwyr about songs, ment and maintenance is the giving of gifts by the bendances, and rituals (Werner 1984:51). It also has sig- jadjwyr to his followers, and the gifts considered most nificant economic manifestations. In addition to the pro- valuable for this purpose are those from other communiductive activities organized by each extended household ties and the outside world. Especially prized are shot(the woman's contribution to which is great), each men's guns, machetes, beads, pots, and other manufactured society maintains its own communal gardens, conducts items from Brazilian society and hardwood bowstaves separate hunting andfishingexpeditions, and engages in from other Indian villages (Werner 1984:27-8, 52). So communal construction activities, all under the direction generous are the Mekranoti benjadjwyr that they often of the benjadjwyr (Werner 1980:33, 89). end up with relatively fewer of the shotguns and other There is an external or man-of-renown dimension to external items than their own followers (Werner 1980:12, benjadjwyr authority as well. This is the side of the 148-9). benjadjwyr as he looks out from his own faction toward It is clear that the process of factional competition other factions within the village, and also toward the generates considerable leadership variability in the world at large. Within the village, the external mode of village, ranging from a situation where several leaders benjadjwyr authority is closely linked to inter-factional enjoy influence, but none emerges as truly dominant relations, which are to a great extent competitive. Dis- over the others, to the opposite end of the spectrum putes in the village are often contested along factional where factional ascendance produces a condition which, lines and the men's societies even field teams to play in the short term, resembles the centralized authority against each other at village sporting events (Werner structure of a chiefdom. In the latter case, the benjadjwyr 1980:33-4). Moreover, Werner notes that political com- of the dominant faction acts as a virtual community petition between men's societies will intensify at times as leader, especially if his faction has completely absorbed their leaders vie for greater influence in the village or supplanted all others (Werner 1980:41-54). (pp. 33-4). While the influence of a benjadjwyr is posiYet, Werner's analysis reveals that benjadjwyr status, tively related to the size of his faction, usually the men's even in its most centralized expression, has not been society of which he is leader, the stability of such influ- transformed into a permanent office of chiefly leadership ence is jeopardized by the fact that men freely choose in the course of Mekranoti social reproduction. The which men's society to join (once they have fathered dynamics of benjadjwyr authority transpire in a time their first child) and they may later change their affili- frame keyed to the life history and political career of ation at will (p. 32). Thus, an ambitious leader will specific individuals. Even a very powerful benjadjwyr necessarily be concerned with his faction's size, striving who leads his faction to political ascendancy will eventuto augment its membership through recruitment and ally be challenged by other ambitious men, grow very doing what he can to discourage attrition. Since new old and feeble, die, or otherwise lose influence over his factions are easily formed and old ones readily dissolved, followers. New intra-village factions may then appear, a Kayapo village will have a variable number of factions and the cycle of factional competition will begin anew, over time; the Mekranoti have had at least seven differ- leading in some instances to village fission, in others to ent men's societies since 1930 (pp. 33-4). Occasionally, factional ascendance directed by a different benjadjwyr an especially adroit leader may expand his faction to the (Werner 1980:41-54). point where it becomes coterminous with the village as a Such cycles of factional competition are found among whole, either by absorbing all the available male mem- other lowland South American tribal peoples as well. Of bership or by fostering conditions that force a competing the Akwe-Shavante, an unstratified group in Mato

The development of centralized authority

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Grosso state, Brazil, Maybury-Lewis says: "Factionalism was weakening just then. Some of the Wamari memis a basic fact of Shavante life. It is part of the scheme of bership had died in an epidemic, and another minority things, in terms of which people regulate their behaviour faction, the Topdato, which had been allied to the and order their conceptual categories. The factions are in Wamari, withdrew their support because the Wamari perpetual competition for power and prestige and the ulti- held the Topdato responsible for the epidemic and killed mate prize of the chieftaincy" (Maybury-Lewis 1974:190). some of their members (p. 176). At this juncture, Prapa The native term which Maybury-Lewis translates as decided to act. He formed a new village, composed of his "chief" is he a, yet it is clear that (like the benjadjwyr of the own recently enlarged Dzutsi faction along with disMekranoti) the he a is not a titled, hereditary office of sident Wamari and the entire Tebe faction, and relocated central authority. "Chiefs are not formally installed nor it just across the river at E To, about 2 miles from Sao is there any procedure for electing them, appointing them Domingos, leaving the Wamari as a much reduced polior having them succeed to office" (p. 190). Any man who tical entity (p. 176, Map 2). Like the Mekranoti, then, exercises leadership can be considered a he a, and there the Shavante exhibit cycles of factional ascendance and may be more than one person in the village so recognized, decline, the dynamics of which are determined by the each with his own faction (p. 190). internal ties between the he a and his faction as well as by He a leadership has both internal and external dimen- inter-factional and inter-community relations. sions. In the internal, or center-man mode, the he a enjoys rather direct control over the members of his faction (p. 191), while in the external sector his power is From achieved leadership to chiefly office determined by the dynamics of inter-factional com- While factional ascendance is a major process leading to petition, with relative factional size the most significant centralized community leadership over the short run, the factor leading to competitive victory (p. 197). Once in long-term persistence of such authority is largely inhipower as leader of the dominant faction, the he a is bited, ironically, by the tendency toward factionalism expected to act as arbiter for the village as a whole, a role itself. Among the Mekranoti, a dominant benjadjwyr is a clearly shown during the occasional ceremonial food person at the nexus of a particular configuration of facdistributions which he directs (p. 203). tional loyalties held together largely by his own personal One of the distinctive features of Shavante inter- qualities of influence and persuasion. Yet, we have seen community life is the frequency with which individuals that it is a structure prone to dissolution, since new facchange membership from one village to another: "every tions are readily formed and an individual may change community automatically grants asylum to refugees or his membership from one faction to another at will seceders from other groups" (p. 205). Once the new- (Werner 1980:32). This fluid situation is further exaccomers take up residence, they tend to join one of the erbated by a lack of regular correspondence between the factions (dominant or minority) within their adoptive political bonds formed among the members of factions village, often choosing a faction with which they have and other social links, such as marriage ties (pp. 282-3). Also constraining the perpetuation of centralized some prior ties (p. 206). Since the power of a given faction and its he a is determined primarily by the relative authority among the Mekranoti is the fact that even a size of the faction, these immigrants become an impor- dominant benjadjwyr does not act as the exclusive mediator between the village and the outside world. For tant form of political capital (p. 206). Achieving factional ascendancy requires a keen sense example, although Pykatire is not considered a benjadjof political timing. Maybury-Lewis describes how the wyr, he happens to be the only truly fluent speaker of Dzutsi, a minority faction in the Shavante village of Sao Portuguese in the village, and is consequently a key Domingos, managed to surpass the Wamari, who had figure in any transaction with Brazilians (p. 91). Several been dominant for some years (pp. 175-8). The oppor- other men have been to Brazilian cities, often bringing tunity came in 1960, when another Shavante village, back medical supplies or other goods, and have gained Capitariquara, was breaking up, and some of its reputations as experts at dealing with the outside world members came to Sao Domingos. Many of these new- (p. 109). Foreign goods are also brought to the commucomers joined the Dzutsi faction, because the leader of nity by such visitors as representatives of the Brazilian the faction, a man named Prapa, had been cultivating government, missionaries, and anthropologists (Werner inter-village kinship ties with them for some time 1984:27-8, 33^). Consequently, the flow of foreign (p. 176). The Dzutsi faction was thus strengthened, and goods into the community is irregular, unpredictable, it so happened that the dominance of the Wamari faction and largely beyond the control of even a powerful

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Charles S. Spencer

benjadjwyr. This has important political ramifications happens frequently because of an interesting contrasince gift giving (especially gifts of extra-village origin) is diction lying at the heart of Shavante leadership: followa key technique whereby a benjadjwyr expands his influ- ers expect a dominant he a to manifest quite different ence (Werner 1980:148-9). Because the benjadjwyr lacks qualities from an aspiring he a. An aspiring he a gains exclusive control over the importation of foreign goods, power by promoting inter-factional tensions and but is nonetheless supposed to be highly generous, he rivalries, lending military and other support to indiwill sometimes fail to please everyone with the limited viduals and groups in order to lure them away from their means at his disposal and discontent will fester in the leaders and into his own faction. However, once an village, detracting from his reputation and authority aspiring he a gains the ascendancy, this extreme partiality (Werner 1984:50). is supposed to be supplanted by relative impartiality Among the Shavante, the perpetuation of centralized (p. 203). As dominant he a he is expected to be an arbiter, he a authority is also hindered by factionalism. The poli- showing tolerance and wisdom, "to act as peacemaker tical structure built by an ascendant he a is a fragile one and to drown discord in a flood of oratory" (p. 203). at best, and there is usually no paucity of ambitious men The dominant he a is thus in a position of some diffieager to exploit any weaknesses that may develop in it, culty. "The qualities ideally required of him and the as illustrated by the Dzutsi faction's route to political behaviour expected of him while he is in office are ascendancy (Maybury-Lewis 1974:175-8). This inter- diametrically opposed to those of which he had to make factional competitive climate is aided by the relative ease use when he aspired to the chieftaincy" (p. 204). Joining with which individuals can shift residence from one the faction of an aspiring he a will often bring followers village to another, joining a new faction in the process. more immediate benefits (usually in the form of military "They regarded their villages as temporary aggregates support and, occasionally, wives) than they will get by which could at any time undergo changes in mem- continuing to support a dominant he a. It is largely for bership, perhaps even radical changes such as would this reason that the expansion of center-man leadership alter the balance of power within them" (p. 205). The to other villages only helps the dominant he a to circumfactional support base of a dominant he a can be under- vent factionalism temporarily. mined by an aspiring he a who cultivates factional ties Now let us enter a more hypothetical domain and with people in other villages (p. 176). By the same token, consider how the short-term phenomenon of achieved it is in the best political interests of a dominant he a to leadership could be transformed into permanently extend his own internal, or center-man, influence to centralized authority. Some clues can be found in other villages, thus giving him access to a potential base Werner's study of the Mekranoti. At the time of his of factional support beyond the limits of his immediate fieldwork, the Mekranoti were just beginning to manifest community (pp. 205-13). tendencies toward leadership inheritance. Although the A Shavante leader usually achieves such an expansion benjadjwyr had traditionally been a position achieved of internal authority by cultivating bonds of reciprocal primarily through one's ability to influence others and obligation with individuals and groups in other villages build up a sizeable faction, there was some talk in the so that they come to recognize his leadership and, in village of letting the position pass on to the son of the effect, join his faction (p. 176). Military assistance and current benjadjwyr. marriage alliances are the two most common Werner analyzed this phenomenon intensively and mechanisms for extending one's internal authority; in noted that the family of the current benjadjwyr has contrast to the Mekranoti, the giving of exotic gifts has tended to have more contacts than others with visitors played a minor role in Shavante leadership processes from the outside world, such as missionaries and govern(pp. 172, 205-13). Gift giving by the dominant he a is ment officials, apparently because these outside visitors apparently limited to occasional distributions of meat found it more efficient to deal with a single family of contributed by village hunters (pp. 202-3). "culture brokers" in their interactions with the village Although the expansion of internal authority can instead of with the multitude of families at large allow Shavante leaders to perform an "end run" around (1980:290-2). These contacts, not surprisingly, have intra-village factionalism, this strategy usually does not resulted in the transmission of considerable knowledge enjoy long-term success, largely because of thefluidityof about the outside world to the benjadjwyr and also his factional membership (pp. 205-6). When the dominant sons. This knowledge has, in turn, contributed sighe a is perceived as unsatisfactory by the followers, they nificantly to the sons' influence within the village, may switch allegiance to an aspiring he a (pp. 208-9). This thereby enhancing their own chances of some day

The development of centralized authority

35

becoming benjadjwyr (p. 297). Moreover, by virtue of I would also argue, however, that the regularized their contacts with the outsiders, the benjadjwyr 's sons expansion of center-man leadership, while a necessary have access to foreign goods which they can use for gift condition, is also not sufficient by itself to ensure the giving and concomitant influence building (p. 298). perpetuation of centralized authority. For that to occur, Finally, some of the outsiders, notably government the benefits to the participants in the expanded centerofficials, have actually encouraged the concept of leader- man network should be such that they continue to ship inheritance by indicating which of the benjadjwyr's support this political structure, even after the death of sons they would like to see become the next benjadjwyr the leader who originally promoted it. In the Shavante (p. 91). As a general conclusion, Werner proposes that case, the permanent extension of center-man leadership "contacts with foreign groups may encourage leadership has been hindered by the relative decline in benefits inheritance by making families of 'culture brokers' accruing to followers once an aspiring he a has attained important in cooperation between societies" (p. 325). He the ascendancy. Yet, it would seem (in view of the suggests that the appearance of culture brokers is par- Mekranoti data) that this situation could be ameliorated ticularly encouraged when there are limited but highly if the dominant he a complemented his extended internal important contacts between groups of people, such as in authority with expanded external leadership: by striving the case of long-distance trade ties (p. 329). to become a permanent culture broker between his I would propose, in accordance with Werner, that one group and the outside world, gaining access on a conof the conditions favoring the transformation of tinuing basis to exotic or prestige goods which could be achieved authority into a permanently centralized chiefly used as gifts for supporters. This would enhance and office is an increase in the kinds of inter-societal contacts regularize the tangible benefits to the followers and conthat allow a leader to act as culture broker on a regular sequently their allegiance to the network of political basis, expanding and regularizing the external dimension relationships constructed by the ascendant leader. of authority. At the same time, I would argue that this To sum up, we have seen that the Mekranoti leaders condition, though perhaps necessary, is not sufficient by have expanded their external contacts, but not the range itself to favor the social reproduction of centralized of their internal authority, while the Shavante leaders authority. Werner acknowledges this as well when he have achieved the reverse. In both cases, the lack of points out that increasing external contacts will not regular articulation between the two leadership dimennecessarily result in formalized leadership inheritance sions has acted to counteract the development of peramong the Mekranoti, because if individuals become manently centralized leadership. Extrapolating from dissatisfied with their benjadjwyr, they may reject his these observations, I would go on to suggest that the internal authority by switching allegiance to another reproduction of centralized leadership is favored only factional leader (Werner 1980:302). Despite increasing when there is an expansion of both the internal and the external contacts, the perpetuation of centralized auth- external dimensions of authority; causal sufficiency ority has thus far been thwarted by the propensity to would ensue from the coupling of the two conditions, intra-village factionalism. each necessary but not sufficient by itself. It should be An additional condition, I submit, must also be met if noted that neither of these conditions entails the develsuch factionalism is to be overcome: the internal dimen- opment of totally new behavior, but rather the regularision of leadership must be permanently expanded, not zation of behaviors that occasionally appear within the just to the limits of the leader's home village, but beyond. range of variation exhibited by uncentralized societies. The evolutionary significance of this step is suggested by The skeptical reader might, at this juncture, ask why May bury-Lewis' finding that intra-village factionalism there are so many cases where the dynamics of achieved can be circumvented by a leader who extends his internal leadership have not led to the evolution of chiefly auth(factional) leadership to include individuals and groups ority. A possible answer is that internal and external in other villages (Maybury-Lewis 1974:176). The prin- authority must be expanded concurrently for selection to cipal mechanism for accomplishing this, I suggest, will favor the social reproduction of centralized authority, involve the establishment of bonds of reciprocal obli- and this is not an easily fulfilled requirement. In the gation on an inter-village basis, manifested by the Mekranoti example, while external ties are growing in exchange of goods, services, people (e.g., mates), and importance, leadership inheritance has been thwarted by information back and forth between the village of the intra-village factionalism, which the benjadjwyr has not leadership and the villages over which the leadership is yet managed to circumvent by extending his center-man attempting to exercise internal authority. ties to other villages. Among the Shavante, a factional

36

Charles S. Spencer

leader will sometimes expand his center-man authority to other villages, but once he gains the ascendancy his followers usually find that they derive fewer benefits from supporting him than they did when he was building his career, and the weakly developed external dimension to his authority means that he lacks regular access to exotic goods that he can use to reward supporters. To draw a contrast, in those societies which anthropologists commonly recognize as chiefdoms, the external and internal facets of central authority seem to be far more expansive, regularized, and coordinated in their expression than is the case among the Mekranoti and Shavante. Consider, for example, the ethnohistorically documented chiefdoms of Panama (Helms 1979). In each polity there was a permanent office of paramount chief, called the quevi, whose rule extended outward from his own village to include others within a radius of about a half-day of travel (p. 53). When a quevi died, the office was normally filled by his eldest son; if there were no sons, the oldest daughter would succeed to the office, but not until she was married to the highest-ranking available man, who then acted as regent for the office in the public domain (p. 25). Beneath the quevi'in sociopolitical status were the sacos and cabras, both of which acted as village-level or territorial chiefs (p. 13). They came to their positions, however, by different routes. The sacos were members of elite lineages, and assumed office through rules of succession that stressed male primogeniture (pp. 24-5). Cabras were men of commoner descent who were granted elite status because they had demonstrated exceptional bravery in battle (p. 13). The internal dimension of the quevi's office is evidenced by the personal services and labor which he could command from all the villages in his realm. There is some evidence for a regularized form of rotating labor service, through which members of the populace took turns cultivating maize for the quevi (Espinosa 1864:491, cited by Helms 1979:14). Commoners could also be called upon for construction activities, hunting, fishing, and participation in warfare. In return for their services, the populace received food and drink distributed by the quevi (Andagoya 1865:13, cited by Helms 1979:14). In addition, the quevi was the acknowledged guardian of the communal peace and moral order; in this capacity, he mediated disputes between individuals, and was said to have possessed the authority to put to death anyone who lied to him (Helms 1979:14-15). Material culture manifestations of elite status in Panama can be seen in patterns of settlement, architecture, personal adornment and burial behavior. The seat of quevi authority was an elite center, sometimes referred

to in the ethnohistorical sources as a "town," larger and with more impressive architecture than the villages of the common populace (p. 8). Here, the quevi lived with his family, servants, and retainers in the chiefly bohio, a large and elaborate compound which served both domestic and ceremonial functions and acted as "a visible symbol of the chiefly estate" (p. 9). Since Panamanian warfare emphasized attacks aimed at a quevi's headquarters, most of the elite centers and the bohio's were ringed by defensive fortifications of various kinds, including stone walls, timber stockades, moats, and thorny vegetation (p. 9). Elite status was also exhibited through the wearing of fine cotton mantles and valuable (often gold) ornaments (p. 16). When the quevi traveled through his domain, he was carried about in a hammock; upon his death, he was accorded an elaborate burial (pp. 16-17). The external dimension to chiefly authority is revealed by the quevfs direction of inter-polity warfare and also by his participation in networks of prestige goods exchange with the elites of other, often quite distant, polities (pp. 31-7). A variety of items - considered valuable because of their scarcity, distant provenance, or highly crafted nature - moved regularly through the networks of elite exchange, including gold (both raw and worked into ornaments), fine sea shells, pearls, cotton hammocks and textiles, elaborate pottery, salt, and fine weapons (p. 35). Inter-polity warfare, endemic in Panama, acted to reinforce the quevi's authority through the periodic imposition of military discipline, and it also brought the quevi and his followers various economic rewards. The most important of these, according to Helms, was more regular access to the networks of inter-polity exchange of prestige goods. She notes that warfare often occurred between chiefs whose domains were far from major junctions on the exchange routes and those who were more favorably situated; as an alternative to war, alliances (often through marriage) were established between distant and near chiefs in order to facilitate access to prestige goods for the former and broaden the political ties and renown of the latter (p. 34). Not only were the external and internal dimensions of chiefly authority expansive and highly regularized in their expression, they were also linked to one another in a way that reinforced, and thus helped to perpetuate, the office of quevi. The importance of this articulation is revealed by Helms in her discussion of political competition among high-ranking individuals for the position of quevi. She argues that the rules of primogeniture provided only a general plan of succession, and that elite

The development of centralized authority

37

paternity, in any event, was often far from clear because graphically distant peoples and the development by elite of chiefly polygyny and the extra-marital sex often prac- leaders of esoteric contacts with cosmologically and costiced by higher-status women (pp. 23^4). Most chiefs, in mographically 'distant' supernatural forces" (p. 50). spite of their putative genealogical legitimacy, faced Such sanctification of chiefly authority, of course, recurrent challenges to their authority from high-status greatly enhances the probability of successful social competitors, and were consequently required to provide reproduction (Spencer 1987; Drennan 1976; Rappaport constant evidence of their ability to wield power and 1971a). The importance of the linkage between the thereby maintain the office for themselves and their heirs external and internal dimensions of authority is noted by (p. 28). In addition to showing personal strength and Helms thus: "It must be emphasized that Panamanian wisdom, a chief had to provide valuable gifts to his participation in such far-flung exchange activities is followers "in order to reward loyalty, build reciprocal viewed not simply as an adjunct to chiefly activities, obligations, and hold a core of supporters" (p. 31). interests, and affairs in Panama but as vital to the socioThese gifts were usually the exotic and scarce prestige political dynamics of Panamanian chiefdoms" (1979:37). goods obtained by the quevi as he exercised the external In sum, it would seem that a key difference between the facet of his office in the fields of inter-polity warfare and uncentralized Amazonian tribes discussed earlier and elite exchange (p. 32). the chiefdoms of Panama is the regularized expansion Aside from facilitating gift giving, the externally and close articulation of both the internal and the obtained prestige goods contributed to the legitimation external dimensions of central leadership in the Panaof quevi authority by symbolizing the parallel "between manian case. the chiefly pursuit of esoteric contacts with geo-

% Archaeological sites O Modern cities

Okm

40km

Fig. 3.1 Western Venezuela, showing location of study area overlapping the foothills of the Andes and the high llanos.

38

Charles S. Spencer

Archaeology of chiefly development in Barinas, Venezuela

From 1983 to 1988, Elsa Redmond and I conducted archaeological survey and excavation in a portion of the Rio Canagua drainage in the western Venezuelan state of Barinas (Fig. 3.1). Though our work is continuing, it is already evident that chiefly organization emerged in this area in the middle of the first millennium AD. Moreover, this development appears to have involved, in line with the preceding discussion, an expansion of internal political authority to villages other than that of the central leadership, coupled with an increase in external inter-societal interaction mediated by this elite. Our 450 sq km study region overlaps two important environmental zones: the high llanos (savanna grasslands, between 180 m and 240 m elevation) and the Andean piedmont, between 240 m and 600 m. In three seasons of intensive regional survey (1983-5) we located 103 prehistoric sites; during the fourth and fifth seasons (1986, 1988) we carried out 201 test excavations at ten sites (seven in the llanos and three in the piedmont), as well as horizontal block excavations at the largest site in the study region. We have been able to define four phases of ceramic-using peoples in each zone, lasting

from about AD 300 until the European intrusion in the 1500s; this chronology is supported by a series of radiocarbon and thermoluminescence dates (Redmond and Spencer 1989; Spencer 1991). For the present paper, I will concentrate on the first two phases of the sequence (AD 300-1000). Thefirstphase dates from AD 300 to AD 500-600 and is called Early Curbati in the piedmont and Early Gavan in the high llanos (Fig. 3.2). In the piedmont, only B8 shows evidence for occupation at this time, covering 2-3 ha. In the llanos there is occupation at three sites: B12 (3-5 ha), B97, and B21 (3 ha each). We found no earthworks associated with either the Early Curbati or Early Gavan occupations. The second phase, lasting from AD 500-600 to AD 1000, is called Late Curbati in the piedmont and Late Gavan in the llanos. At this time there were six habitation sites in the piedmont and thirty-two habitation sites in the llanos, a large increase in human occupation over the previous phase (Fig. 3.3). Late Curbati sites lack earthworks and are all located on remnant river terraces overlooking stretches of low alluvium. In the Curbati valley, there are two habitation sites, B8 (8 ha) and B20 (2 ha). Each of these sites has a

• Early Curbati' sites

A Early Gavan sites

0 km

5 ki

Fig. 3.2 Early Gavan and Early Curbati settlement patterns.

The development of centralized authority

39

• Curbati' Complex sites © Petroglyphs

Gavan Complex settlement hierarchy H 1 st order A 3 r c | or der sites ™ center A 2nd order sites a Drained fields " " ' Calzada

Fig. 3.3 Late Gavan and Late Curbati settlement patterns. boulder covered with petroglyphs, and there are four other petroglyph locations in the Curbati valley (Fig. 3.3). No petroglyphs were found in our survey of the Canagua valley, but there are four Late Curbati habitation sites in the Canagua valley, none more than 2 ha in size. Since the Curbati valley is widely recognized to be the easier course for traversing the piedmont, it seems likely that the petroglyphs served, in part, to mark an ancient trade route from the llanos to the high Andes. Late Gavan settlement patterns differ strikingly from those of Late Curbati (see Fig. 3.3). There is, first of all, a three-level regional settlement hierarchy with site B12 at the apex. B12 is a 33 ha site with an impressive collection of earthworks (Fig. 3.4). Two mounds over 10 m tall face each other across a plaza 500 m long, and there are four other mounds more than 2 m high, a number of elongated earthworks, and about 130 mounds 1 m or less in height. Only the two largest mounds and the elongated earthworks seem to have had a non-domestic function. All the other mounds seem to have been housemounds, and they exhibit considerable differentiation in terms of housemound height, roofed-over house area, and associated artifacts, undoubtedly reflecting a pervasive principle of social ranking here. For example, in our Area A excavations we recovered a well-preserved housefloor

with numerous postmolds atop a housemound 1 m high; the roofed-over floor space measured 6.2 m by 4.5 m or 27.9 square meters. By contrast, our Area D excavations exposed a housefloor with postmolds on a housemound just 55 centimeters in height; here, the roofed-over floor space measured 5.2 m by 3.2 m (16.6 sq m). Surrounding the occupation area of B12 is an oval calzada or earthen causeway - eroded on its northwest side - measuring nearly 1 km from one end of the oval to the other (Fig. 3.3). Still as much as 1 m high in places, this earthwork is about 8 m wide at the top and 20 m wide at the base; excavations suggest a Late Gavan date. Other calzadas lead off to the northwest, southwest, and southeast, connecting B12 with a number of other Gavan complex sites (Fig. 3.3). The second tier in the Late Gavan regional settlement hierarchy is represented by five sites: B97, B17, B21, B25, and B30. These second-order sites have occupation areas ranging from 6 to 12 ha and have from two to four mounds ranging in height from 2 to 6 m. We have also located twenty-six third-order village sites, which lack mounded earthworks and range in size from 1 to 4 ha. Typical of these Late Gavan village sites is B26, a 3 ha occupation where we excavated sixteen test pits. Just 1 km southeast of B26 is B27, 35 ha of drained

40

Charles S. Spencer

Fig. 3.4 Topographic map of the Gay an site (B12), showing the major earthen mounds, calzadas, smaller housemounds (dotted lines), the block excavation areas (capital letters), and the test excavations (the small black squares). agricultural fields; both are linked to B12 by calzada (Fig. 3.3 and 3.5). Because evidence for drained-field agriculture has been located elsewhere on the llanos (Zucchi and Denevan 1979; Garson 1980:327), we were not surprised to find it here. In 1988 we mapped the drained-field system and excavated four test pits (Fig. 3.6). Palynologist Milagro Rinaldi (1990) found that maize pollen was predominant in a soil sample from B27, implying that the drained fields were oriented largely toward maize cultivation. Though further analysis lies ahead, it is clear that

between Early and Late Gavan an impressive cultural development took place on the llanos, manifested by the emergence of a three-level settlement hierarchy focused on a large regional center (B12), the construction of monumental earthworks, considerable population growth, the appearance of social status differentiation, and the implementation of complex agricultural and transportation technologies in the form of the drained fields and calzadas. We feel that "chiefdom" is the appropriate taxon for this development in view of the evidence of centralized regional authority and, at the

The development of centralized authority same time, the relatively low degree of diversity in ceremonial or public architecture at the regional center (Spencer 1987, 1990). There are indications that this development was marked by the expansion, regularization, and articulation of both internal and external facets of authority. In Early Gavan times, the slightly larger relative size of B12 may reflect the faction-building activities of aspiring leaders here, but it is unlikely that the internal authority of any such leaders extended much beyond their own villages. At this time, none of the pyramidal mounds at B12 had been built, nor had the calzada system been constructed. The regional settlement hierarchy which developed after AD 500-600 is surely a manifestation of the expansion of the leadership's internal authority well

41

beyond the limits of the home village. The calzada network that linked lower-order sites to B12 must have required for its construction a sizeable labor force mobilized from several of the region's villages. Once built, the network would have facilitated regular inter-community interaction, as well as serving as a material symbol of the regional political centralization focused on B12 that had become established by Late Gavan times. Another way that internal authority was expanded and regularized in Late Gavan was through the elaboration of a regional chiefly political economy. Our study of the drained-field system at B27 found that it was capable of agricultural production greatly exceeding the nutritional needs of B26, the adjacent village of 10-20 households that undoubtedly farmed it (Spencer and

Gavan Complex sites \ *B52 1

B98

1 km

k

MN i

It,QO

B97

5V

V \

\

(

>

CanoColoradio\

l"*!* "* »

B27^VV\i

^

Fig. 3.5 The Gavan locality, showing the first-order center (B12), an adjacent second-order site (B97), nearby third-Qrder sites (B52, B98, B96, B26), the drained-field system (B27), and the calzada system (dotted lines).

42

Charles S. Spencer

Fig. 3.6 La Tigra (B27), the drained-field system. A network of canals connects two oxbow lagoons with the Cano Colorado, a tributary stream of the Rio Canagud. Redmond 1992). Since both B27 and B26 are directly connected to B12 by calzada, it seems quite likely that such surplus was regularly sent to the regional center, as an expression of the political allegiance that linked the villagers to the chiefly elite. The elite, in turn, may well have mobilized the labor force needed to carry out the initial construction of drained fields, as a way of extending the reach of their internal authority to agricultural villages lying several kilometers from the center. The continual flow of goods and people between the villages and the center would surely have helped to regularize and thus reinforce the centralized regional authority emanating from B12.

There is also evidence that the external dimension of chiefly leadership was considerably expanded between Early and Late Gavan. This is most clearly seen in the evidence for inter-societal exchange and warfare. In several high-status Late Gavan contexts at B12 (and in one such context at B21, a second-order site) we found beads and pendants made of exotic polished stone, including serpentinite as well as lithics made of a nonlocal red jasper. A number of distant source areas for these materials have been identified, including the high Venezuelan Andes, the Caribbean mountains near Caracas, the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta of Colombia, and the high Colombian Andes (Wagner and

The development of centralized authority Schubert 1972; Wagner 1973; Carlos Schubert, pers. comm. 1986; Ramon Sifontes, pers. comm. 1988). These materials probably came to the llanos by way of the petroglyph-lined route through the piedmont. Warfare was another kind of external relationship that evidently became more extensive and regularized in Late Gavan times. In the lowest construction level of the largest mound at B12 we excavated pieces of at least one disarticulated human, which we provisionally interpret as a sacrificed victim, possibly a war captive. We also suspect that the oval causeway at B12, built at the interface between Early and Late Gavan, could have served, in part, as a defensive feature (Fig. 3.4). In our excavation Area B, we recovered an alignment of carbonized postmolds along the centerline of the western leg of the oval causeway, suggesting that it once bore a palisade. Signs of warfare are prevalent at the end of the Late Gavan occupation as well. Not only the palisade but also the latest level of the Area A housemound showed signs of burning, as did many of the uppermost levels of our excavations at B12. Perhaps this elite center was set afire by attackers at the end of its occupation. While we have more analysis to do on this score, the evidence for violence and warfare from the beginning to the very end of Late Gavan suggests that this was a regular phenomenon. And, since we found evidence for fortifications, possible human sacrifice, and conflagration in our excavations at B12, and not at the other Late Gavan sites, we suspect that the regional elite were heavily and differentially involved in directing both offensive and defensive forms of warfare. How did the internal organization of the Gavan polity articulate with external exchange and warfare? One clue is provided by the potential for surplus production at the drained-field system (B27). Since B12 itself is situated adjacent to a very broad expanse of fertile and welldrained alluvium, it seems unlikely that all the surplus generated by B26/B27 - not to mention the surplus that may have been produced by other villages - was required for the basic subsistence needs of B12's inhabitants. There must have been other important uses. I suggest that in peaceful times a good part of this surplus could have been used by the Gavan elite for exchange purposes. When war threatened, on the other hand, surplus production could have been directed toward generating

43

a stockpile of food, to be stored with other supplies at the regional center and used to provision warriors and others during battles and sieges. Morey (1975:252, 255, 257-69) notes that sixteenth-century llanos groups often exchanged lowland agricultural products for workable stone and other highland items. She also describes how one sixteenth-century llanos society used a "palisade of tree trunks and earth" to fortify the "main village," which was kept well supplied in case of surprise attack (p. 280). While standing armies were not maintained, regional chiefs could muster temporaryfightingforces of considerable size from the villages of their domain (p. 277). In Late Gavan times, the calzada system undoubtedly facilitated the movement of both surplus goods and mustered warriors into the regional center. Thus, during periods of peace as well as in times of war, the political economy of the internal domain was linked to the dynamics of external relations. Acknowledgments

The archaeological research conducted by Elsa Redmond and the author in Barinas, Venezuela, has been funded by grants from the National Science Foundation (BNS-8506192), the Wenner-Gren Foundation (No. 4798), the Connecticut Research Foundation (No. 00220-35-220), and a University of Connecticut Faculty Fellowship. Our colleagues at the Departamento de Antropologia, Instituto Venezolano de Investigaciones Cientificas (IVIC), Caracas, where we are colaboradores visitantes, have been exceptionally cordial and helpful over the years. We are especially grateful to Dra Erika Wagner, Dr Carlos Schubert, Dra Alberta Zucchi, Dr Jesus Eduardo Vaz, Rafael Gasson, Lilliam Arvelo, Ines Frias, Arturo Jaimes, Luis Molina, and Professor Ramon Sifontes. In Barinas, we have been aided by Maria Andueza, Rafael Gasson, Ines Frias, Javier Fernandez, Pablo Novoa, Alejo Novoa, Lucio Laviano, and Raiza Ron. Figs. 3.1, 3.3, 3.4, and 3.6 are reproduced with the permission of the Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan. Figs. 3.2 and 3.5 are reproduced with the permission of World Archaeology. Elsa Redmond and Elizabeth Brumfiel offered helpful comments on an earlier draft of this paper.

External warfare and the internal politics of northern South American tribes and chiefdoms ELSA M. REDMOND

Warfare is often cited as an important factor in the evolution of complex societies, though usually it appears at the end of a long list of factors that contributed to the development of chiefdoms and states, with little or no attempt to examine its precise operation and its contribution to the internal politics of these societies. A notable exception is Robert Carneiro, who views warfare as a significant mechanism of political evolution, which under certain conditions of circumscription can give rise to the aggregation of autonomous villages under the permanent leadership of paramount chiefs, a critical step in political evolution (Carneiro 1981:38). In weighing some of the factors that have been set forth to account for the development of chiefdoms and their centralized decision-making hierarchies, Carneiro attempts to distinguish between those factors that merely play a consolidating role in the emergence and legitimation of chiefdoms, and the source of the chief's political power in the first place. It is the chief's power which enables him to transcend the collective decision-making organization of uncentralized tribesmen and institutionalize a highly centralized decision-making organization with himself at the apex of a regional hierarchy of village chiefs under his control. If we are to explain the origin of chiefdoms, suggests Carneiro, we must look beyond some of the consequences of chiefly political power and seek the source of power that permits a chief to exercise centralized, hereditary leadership over his subjects (Carneiro 1981:57-8,61,63). One way to seek the source of chiefly power is to assess the role that warfare can play in the development of centralized chiefly decision making. Having spent some time reviewing ethnographic and ethnohistoric descrip44

tions of northern South American tribes and chiefdoms, I am impressed by the omnipresence of warfare among these societies. I wish then to compare all aspects of this phenomenon as it affects warring tribesmen of northern South America to the warfare pursued by some of the chiefdoms that were encountered in the CircumCaribbean area in the sixteenth century. I will be concentrating on the kind of warfare conducted by war parties outside the autonomous tribal village and beyond the boundaries of a chiefdom, which I call external warfare.1 As we shall see, there are certain similarities and differences between the warfare strategies of autonomous tribal villages and those pursued by centralized chiefdoms. Since these Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms are often considered to have arisen from tribal societies like the Yanomamo (Steward 1948:6-11; Oberg 1973:190-2), this comparative study of their warfare strategies should elucidate some of the ways in which warfare can be used by emerging chiefs to exercise centralized regional authority.2 Tribal and chiefly warfare in northern South America

The following discussion of tribal and chiefly warfare in northern South America draws upon ethnographic studies by modern anthropologists and missionaries of the traditionally militant Jivaro and Yanomamo tribes in the upper Amazon and Orinoco basins, and the chronicles of some of the earliest European explorers and missionaries who encountered numerous chiefdoms in the Circum-Caribbean area in the sixteenth century, including those of the Cauca valley and the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in Colombia and those of eastern and central Panama (Fig. 4.1). Obviously there are problems in comparing the warfare patterns of the Jivaro and Yanomamo (whose traditional way of life is rapidly being transformed by their growing ties with the nation states in which they exist) to the warfare described for the mosaic of sixteenth-century chiefdoms by their European conquerors. The incidence of intertribal warfare among the Jivaro, for example, has declined from the near-monthly occurrence of headhunting raids recorded at the turn of the century to their yearly occurrence today (Harner 1972:204; Descola 1981:627). For their part, the militaristic chiefdoms of the Circum-Caribbean rapidly became extinct in the colonial period, making their relatively recent discovery by anthropologists dependent upon ethnohistorical and archaeological research (Steward 1948:xv-xvi, 1). Nevertheless, the available ethnographic and ethnohistoric accounts reveal "a custom and war pattern that was

External warfare and internal politics

0

500

km

45

N 1000

1

Tairona

I

/

/Cauca/valley

y^jTvaro)

\

ir~ » ' »

\

> y ^ ^ Yanomamo.

\T^^^

Hi \ QZL

Fig. 4.1 Locations of the northern South American societies considered in this study of tribal and chiefly warfare. widespread in northwestern South America at the time of the conquest" (Stirling 1938:41).

seizing of land, resources, and captives were the principal objectives of their expansionist warfare (Castellanos 1850:293, 333-5, 350; Oviedo y Valdes 1853:129; Andagoya 1865:9; Trimborn 1949:201, 283, 368-9, 403; Morey and Marwitt 1975:441).

Objectives of warfare Inter-village warfare among the Yanomamo and Jivaro is spurred largely by revenge and takes the form of surprise raids upon enemy villages. The principal objec- Preparations for war tives are to kill as many of the enemy as possible, and in Tribal and chiefly war parties are mounted according to the case of the Jivaro to seize their heads as trophies; the different time frames, degrees of organization, and availsecondary objectives of a raid include looting the target able manpower. Those individuals interested in mountvillage of its valuables, and occasionally, abducting its ing a tribal raid in order to avenge a kinsman's death women. Seizing land or access to natural resources is not face the often long and arduous task of persuading other an objective of tribal warfare (Drown and Drown villagers and allies to participate. The process of recruit1961:98; Cocco 1972:388-90; Harner 1972:182, 187; ing warriors involves door-to-door canvassing, complete Smole 1976: 79; Chagnon 1983:7, 110-13, 175-6, 180). with formal declarations of war, rhetorical arm-twisting, The objectives of warfare among the sixteenth-century and promises of war spoils. Meanwhile, other preparchiefdoms that I examined centered upon the warring ations are begun, such as planting distant gardens and chiefs' quest for land and power. By mounting military even sometimes establishing a new village by the Yanocampaigns that ranged from surprise raids to repeated mamo, and erecting a house for the victory feast by the battles in broad daylight, ambitious chiefs sought to Jivaro, several months before the scheduled raid. expand the boundaries of their territories and acquire The village headman or another renowned warrior land, villages, natural resources, access to trade routes, will agree to lead the raiding party, albeit somewhat as well as war captives and other exotic prestige goods. reluctantly sometimes (Chagnon 1983:188). The resultAlthough revenge motives could incite warring chiefs to ing war party will number from as few asfiveor ten men launch counterattacks against neighboring polities, the from a village to allied war parties of overfiftymen (and

46

Elsa M. Redmond

up to 500 warriors at the turn of the century). Since participation in a raid is not mandatory, it is common for some of the raiders to suffer a variety of ailments, including nightmares and sore feet, and they will excuse themselves from the raiding party before it reaches the enemy's territory (Up de Graff 1923:251-3; Drown and Drown 1961:78; Harner 1972:184, 204; Chagnon 1983:182-4, 187, 1988:987; Lizot 1985:182-3; Valero 1984:242, 419-20). The paramount chiefs of the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms were pre-eminent military leaders who declared war and mobilized their fighting forces expeditiously, sometimes at the sound of a conch-shell trumpet or wooden drum. They dispatched scouts to monitor the enemy and messengers to warn their allies and summon them to a war council. In this way, warring chiefs had the capacity to mobilize large, allied war parties at short notice, in a day or two at the latest, by one account (Espinosa 1873:25). The size estimates of their war parties range from a minimum of 100 to 500 warriors to allied fighting forces composed of 4000 and up to between 10,000 and 20,000 men (Castellanos 1850:270; Oviedo y Valdes 1853:9, 117; Espinosa 1873:19-20; Lothrop 1937:6; Cieza de Leon 1947:364, 374; Trimborn 1949:335; Reichel-Dolmatoff 1951:77). The longer period of time spent preparing for a tribal raid is also related to the fact that it is at this time that the inhabitants of a participating village gather and store food and firewood for their families, in anticipation of the expected counterraid (Valero 1984:328, 342). Individual warriors supply their own armament and their wives prepare their bundle of provisions for the raid. In contrast to the individual provisioning of warriors for a tribal raid, warring chiefs provided the necessary arms and provisions for their military campaigns. Storehouses at their centers contained enough weapons and supplies to arm an entire chiefdom. Fields were cultivated collectively by the members of military alliances and enough food and water were stored at their fortified centers to withstand a prolonged attack. In the Cauca valley, the fortified center of Nogobarco endured a Spanish siege that lasted thirty-nine days (Castellanos 1850:557-9). When Gaspar de Espinosa stormed the Panamanian center of Nata, his army reaped more than a four months' supply of provisions from its storehouses, which included maize, dried fish, three hundred deer, geese, and turkeys (Espinosa 1864:488). Organization of war parties

Once mounted, tribal and chiefly war parties exhibit differences in their command structures and internal

social differentiation. Tribal raiding parties adopt at most a single tier of command above the individual warrior, in the form of the leader of the raid. Although large, allied raiding parties might have more than one such leader, the single tier of command prevails. The leaders of raiding parties are usually renowned warriors or village headmen, who in spite of their prowess and reputation are considered just "greaters among equals" (Chagnon 1983:6). The leader of a tribal raid is not vested with any formal title or authority and his leadership is informal and temporary in nature; "he leads only by example and the others follow if it pleases them to do so" (Chagnon 1983:124). Although the members of the raiding party are theoretically expected to obey the leader during their expedition in enemy territory, "obedience, even on a war expedition, is often not as rigorous in practice as it is in theory" (Harner 1972:185). There is no social differentiation among the warriors that make up a tribal raiding party other than by age and by tribe in the case of allied raiding parties. The leaders of tribal war parties are not distinguished by any special insignia or distinctive body painting from their fellow warriors. The war paint they anoint themselves with is in large part for common recognition by other members of the raiding party, and as they line up in the village clearing "they form a straight line of naked, blacksmeared bodies" (Lizot 1985:181-2; Karsten 1935:288-9). The war parties mounted by the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms manifested a two- or three-tiered hierarchy of command. Paramount chiefs were the supreme military commanders who led troops of warriors under the command of lesser chiefs (sacos) and military captains {cobras) (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:126, 129-30; Espinosa 1864:479). The ethnohistoric accounts mention special war leaders who headed several large-scale, allied military campaigns, but in all these instances of a third tier of command the war leaders were brothers or affines of the paramount chief (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:47-8; Espinosa 1864:494, 496, 508; Trimborn 1949:256-7). Moreover, the social and military ranking of chiefly war parties was readily apparent in the gold and feather insignia, armor, hairdress, and body-painting styles worn by warriors. War provided a public arena for chiefs, military captains, and other members of the chiefly elite to display the badges of their superior social and military status (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:118, 130; Espinosa 1864:497). Since each chiefdom was distinguished by stylistically different war attire, large allied war parties further displayed the variable war dress and standards of the multiple polities involved (Trimborn 1949:323-7). Thus, the war attire of chiefly war parties was markedly

External warfare and internal politics

heterogeneous. It denoted both their internally ranked or vertical structure and their allied or horizontal components, and conveyed this information regarding their group affiliation and internal social differentiation to their friends and foes alike (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:118; Trimborn 1949:324). Pre-war rituals

On the eve of a planned raid all the members of a tribal raiding party attend a public feast in the village clearing. There they perform mock attacks, mourning ceremonies, verbal exchanges, war cries, and warrior line-ups. The leader or sponsor of the raid acts as master of ceremonies and drillmaster, signaling their start and overseeing the line-up (Karsten 1935:283-6; Harner 1972:184; Chagnon 1983:181-3; Lizot 1985:180-2). Like the practice of anointing themselves with black war paint, these stylized public rituals engender an esprit de corps among the warriors taking part in a raid and reaffirm their common purpose in war. The pre-war rituals of the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms were performed by the chiefs of a military alliance and other members of the chiefly elite in the inner sanctum of the paramount chief's precinct. Chiefs from many neighboring polities in the Cauca valley gathered at the paramount center of Guaca and invoked the divinatory powers of a feline deity, who appeared before them and counseled them to take up arms (Cieza de Leon 1947:364). Upon receiving this augury, the gathered chiefs attended a feast at which the objectives of their military alliance were established in song and performed to the accompaniment of drums (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:127, 130, 137, 142). These pre-war rituals were a chiefly practice, called for and presided over by a paramount chief, that promoted the formation of military alliances between chiefs and reaffirmed their joint purpose in war. War tactics There are clear differences in the scale on which warfare is conducted by the northern South American tribes and chiefdoms considered here. Tribal revenge raids are directed against individual enemy settlements that can be located up to a ten-days' walk away, sometimes far beyond their tribal boundaries, against groups "that speak differently" (Harner 1972:183; Chagnon 1968a: 117, 1983:43). Raiding parties set out for war with bundles of provisions for the duration of the expedition and they stop to pitch a series of overnight camps along the way. No such overnight camps are mentioned in the

47

descriptions of the warfare waged by the sixteenthcentury chiefdoms, probably because their expansionist warfare was usually directed against neighboring polities at the boundaries of their territories (Andagoya 1945:396; Trimborn 1949:280-2; Reichel-Dolmatoff 1951:91). Although we lack precise estimates of the sizes of their territories (Trimborn 1949:141-2; ReichelDolmatoff 1951:55-8; Helms 1979:38-9), it has been suggested that the distance to the boundaries of a chief's territory would probably have been within a day's travel from the paramount center (Helms 1979:53; Spencer 1982:6-7, 23). Thus, during the eight-day war between the neighboring Panamanian chiefs of Escoria and Parita, Parita's forces were able to retire from the battlefield each day and be replenished with fresh troops on successive days (Andagoya 1945:404). Another measure of the different scale on which warfare is waged by these tribes and chiefdoms is the tenfold size difference of their minimal war parties; the size difference has implications for the diversity of their offensive tactics. The hit-and-run raids of tribal war parties owe their success to the surreptitious ambushes at dawn of target villages by attacking units composed of two Jivaro warriors or groups of four to six Yanomamo warriors, who silently await just the right moment to strike. The principal tactic practiced by a Yanomamo raiding party is to ambush and kill by shooting a poisoned-tipped arrow one or more key male inhabitants of the enemy village - such as the headman or another renowned warrior - as they emerge from the village to go about their early morning chores. It is only if the inhabitants suspect an imminent attack and remain boarded-up behind the palisade that the raiders might set fire to the village's thatched roofs with fire-tipped arrows in order to rout the inhabitants. And only after a successful raid will the raiders let out war cries, as they retreat hastily from the enemy settlement. (Cocco 1972:388-90; Harner 1972:185-6; Chagnon 1983:180, 184-5, 189; Valero 1984:73, 149, 332, 341, 353). Chiefly war parties also practiced surprise raids and ambushes, but their significantly larger fighting forces enabled them to carry out their surprise attacks more brazenly. As they surrounded a target settlement and descended upon it en masse with "a rain of spears" (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:118), their intimidation tactics included setting it on fire, and emitting war cries. Their furious cries were accompanied by the sound of drums, conch-shell trumpets, and, in the case of the Colombian chiefdoms, of flutes made from human long bones (Castellanos 1850:270, 293-4, 322). The sixteenth-century chiefdoms also waged open

Elsa M. Redmond advances and attacks in broad daylight. Their fighting Caribbean chiefdoms, the seizing of war spoils and acts of forces were organized into troops that advanced deter- intentional destruction formed part of their larger miliminedly and met the opposing forces in close columns tary strategies. When the paramount chief of the Tairona with double-edged wooden clubs or broadswords province of Bonda, Macarona, planned an allied attack (macanas) and wooden lances, thirty or more spans long, upon a fortified Spanish settlement in the region, he that were hurled or thrust. In a battle waged near directed his war leader, Coendo, to enter covertly and Popayan in the Cauca valley, Andagoya's troops found attack the settlement with twenty warriors, and to seize it difficult to break through the front lines of Apirama's weapons, ammunition, gold, precious ornaments, and forces armed with these weapons; between every two women, before setting the settlement on fire. At that warriors armed with lances were warriors with macanas, point he, Macarona, and 200 warriors would be waiting who stepped forward to wield these broadswords and in ambush outside to prevent the inhabitants from fleeing then retreated behind the line of interlaced lances (Anda- and join in the attack (Castellanos 1850:333-4). goya 1945:439). Their fighting units were also replaceable, for if the troops at the front suffered casualties, Defense reinforcement troops were sent forward to re-form a Defensive considerations are a major factor governing solid, fighting front (Espinosa 1864:497, 488). the location of all tribal villages. Tribesmen space their With their greater manpower and organization, villages at varying distances from the villages of their chiefly war parties were capable of waging day-long allies and enemies, no closer than a half-hour's walk battles. They also conducted repeated attacks upon the apart (Ross 1980:49; Chagnon 1983:43, 52, 79). Uninhaenemy, such as the battles that were fought over eight bited buffer zones and geographical barriers such as successive days in the war between the chiefs of Escoria mountains, swamps, and rivers also serve to distance and Parita in central Panama (Andagoya 1865:30-1). them from enemy villages. Certain defensible positions Several Spanish explorers reported resisting multiple are favored over others for the location of their villages attacks in one day by the same opposing forces; the (Smole 1976:47, 78; Ross 1980:47-8; Descola 1981:627record is held by Benalcazar, whose troops withstood 8; Chagnon 1983:178-9). five attacks in one day from the same opposing forces in Northern South American tribesmen also fortify their the Cauca valley (Trimborn 1949:363). villages by erecting wooden palisades, and sometimes The larger, confrontational military campaigns double palisades, around them. Other defensive mounted by the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms are measures include stackingfirewoodalong the outer walls reflected in the available mortality figures. During a of the houses and installing interior partitions of wooden tribal raid, such as the one formed by the Aguaruna and slats inside the houses (Smole 1976:67; Chagnon Antipas Jivaro to raid the Huambisa Jivaro in 1899, 1983:10, 56; Valero 1984:339, 420). Traditionally, the eleven Huambisa Jivaro were killed and beheaded (Up Jivaro erected war towers at the ends of their houses, de Graff 1923:275). A chiefly raid, like the one con- raised over 6 m from the ground, which served as watchducted by the Paucura against the Pozo in the Cauca towers and as places of refuge during a raid. The Jivaro valley, could result in the slaughter of no fewer than 200 continue to lay a variety of traps and deadfalls along major trails near their settlements, as well as to dig victims (Trimborn 1949:388). There are differences, too, in the nature of looting and foxholes and tunnels inside their houses for protection other destructive activities that tribal and chiefly raiding and escape (Stirling 1938:59-60; Harner 1972:206). parties practice after a successful raid. The members of Finally, there is a minimal size for tribal villages, victorious tribal raiding parties might - or might not - below which they become vulnerable to attack. For this loot the target village of weapons, tools, containers, and reason, the communal structures or shabono erected by other items, in a sportive manner. Occasionally, the Yanomamo villages generally house no fewer than raiders might intentionally smash some ceramic jars and, approximately forty-five people, "for the population before retreating, they might set fire to the village (Cocco must be at least that large to field a raiding party of ten 1972:388). The taking of war captives is not a general men and still permit a few men to remain at home to practice among these tribes. When Yanomamo raiders protect the women" (Chagnon 1968a: 138). The scattered abduct women, they take them as wives, and few raids households of the Jivaro have an average of nine are designed expressly for this purpose (Chagnon inhabitants today, but in the past they resided in fewer, 1983:175-6). larger villages, more like the communal shabono of the In the all-out warfare conducted by the Circum- Yanomamo, for the purposes of defense (Harner

External warfare and internal politics

1972:77; Ross 1980:54-6). Anticipated or actual raids upon a village that has dropped below that size threshold will prompt its inhabitants to relocate, sometimes in conjunction with allied villages. The high degree of settlement mobility and settlement nucleation among tribal villages can be understood in part as defensive responses to warfare. In the case of the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms, we know the most about the defensive measures practiced by the inhabitants of the chiefly centers, for they were nodal points in the Spaniards' campaigns of conquest. They were often described by the Spaniards as fortresses, where the paramount chief's subjects in surrounding villages took refuge (Trimborn 1949:349). These centers were located on high ground or in other defensible positions, such as at the junction of rivers. They were outfitted with imposing defensive palisades - sometimes two or even three of them - that were built of tree trunks, stone slabs, and columnar cactus. Not only were these palisades difficult to scale and penetrate, but also some Panamanian centers were ringed by still another line of defense in the form of an outer moat (Espinosa 1864:510, 515). The fortifications of some chiefly centers in the Cauca valley included elaborate ramparts and watchtowers (Cieza de Leon 1947:368-9, 372-4; Trimborn 1949:129,347). Although these fortified chiefly centers could withstand prolonged attacks, as did the center of Nogobarco in the Cauca valley (Trimborn 1949:7), their defendants also waged more defensive warfare tactics than do the defendants of tribal villages. Chiefs quickly mobilized their forces to take up defensible positions and hurl a variety of missiles at the attackers; with stones, spears, and lances, the forces of Panamanian chief Esquegua successfully repelled two Spanish expeditions from his mountainous territory (Espinosa 1873:34, 38). Another defensive tactic involved circumventing the enemy force and ambushing them in narrow passes, where the defenders could cut off the enemy's retreat and overwhelm them with a mightier force (Las Casas 1951:3934, 396). In defense of their centers and territory, chiefs also came out in battle formation to meet the enemy force in face-to-face combat, even to pursue and confront them repeatedly (pp. 393-6). Aftermath

The opportunities for individual tribesmen to gain power and prestige through warfare culminate in their post-war rituals. Immediately following a Jivaro raid, the victors sever their victims' heads and retreat from enemy territory with these prized human trophies, which

49

imbue them with the vital powers or arutam forces of the dead. The possession of arutam power increases a warrior's power, both physically and intellectually, and provides him with a certain measure of protection from death (Harner 1972:139-42). That power is embodied in the shrunken trophy heads that the killers prepare and wear to the series of public victory feasts, some of which they host (Karsten 1935:365-8). After the last victory feast, however, the trophies themselves lose much of their value. They end up as keepsakes to be hung from the house beams, and, if not lost or exchanged, they might be worn on social occasions (Up de Graff 1923:282-3; Harner 1972:191). It is by repeatedly killing and seizing the arutam powers of their enemies, and hosting victory feasts, that individual warriors achieve recognition and positions of leadership in Jivaro society (Harner 1972:141-2, 110-15, 191-2). The post-war rituals practiced by chiefly war parties began right on the battlefield, with the slaughter and dismemberment of their victims on a large scale. So many warriors suffered this fate during the war between the Panamanian chiefs of Escoria and Parita that later, when the Spaniards visited the battlefield, they "found a great street entirely paved with the heads of the dead, and at the end of it a tower of heads which was such that a man on horseback could not see over it" (Andagoya 1865:31). Chiefly war parties in neighboring Colombia not only decapitated and quartered the bodies of their victims, but also drank their blood and consumed their flesh and innards. Live war captives would eventually meet a similar fate, either by beingfirstclubbed to death, cooked, and eaten right on the battlefield, or by being taken and fattened up in cells located in the chief's compound, and reserved for sacrificial rituals presided over by the chief at a later date (Cieza de Leon 1947:366, 368-9, 371-3, 380; Trimborn 1949:388-97, 416-20, 426). We are fortunate to have Cieza de Leon's eyewitness reports on the magnitude of some of the sacrificial rituals that took place after the wars between chiefdoms in the Cauca valley. After their allied victory over the Pozo, the war parties of Carrapa and Picara consumed more than 300 Pozo captives and sent more than 200 loads of human flesh to their settlements. Later, when the Pozo defeated the Carrapa, Picara, and Paucura, the Pozo chief and his retinue alone consumed 100 victims in one day (Cieza de Leon 1947:372^; Trimborn 1949:388). Those tribesmen who have killed during a raid must observe a series of purification rituals that begin immediately afterwards, along the way home. During this period of ritual observances, which can last from two weeks to more than two years after the raid, the killers

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Elsa M. Redmond

take special baths, and practice various forms of abstinence and physical isolation (Karsten 1935:294, 299-309; Drown and Drown 1961:100-1; Cocco 1972:390-3; Chagnon 1983:186; Valero 1984:77-9, 82-3, 349-50). These purification rituals cleanse the killers and help to protect them from the revengeful spirits of their victims. At their conclusion, marked by a great victory feast among the Jivaro, the killers emerge with haircuts, fresh body painting, and other personal insignia, including their shrunken trophy heads, and enjoy the status of distinguished warriors (Karsten 1935:352, 360-4; Harner 1972:112; Chagnon 1988:987). No such purification rituals are described in the sixteenth-century accounts of chiefly warfare. The members of victorious chiefly war parties do not appear to have practiced any kind of ritual confinement upon their return from war. Their post-war observances centered instead upon the glorification and public display of their military victories. After celebrating the ritual sacrifice and consumption of their victims, the members of chiefly war parties in Colombia displayed their skulls, teeth, limbs, and flayed skins as war trophies. They were hung from the doors of their houses and attached to the posts of the surrounding palisades (Oviedo y Valdes 1852:355; Cieza de Leon 1947:364, 368, 372, 378). Although these post-war practices were not limited to the chiefly elite, chiefs presided over the large-scale sacrifice and ritual consumption of war captives in their precincts. A chief's greatness was measured by the amount of humanfleshhe consumed and by the number of human trophies he possessed. Not surprisingly, therefore, we learn that Tateepe, the chief of Buritica in the Cauca valley, ate only human flesh (Trimborn 1949:401). Similarly, the practice of displaying the bones and flayed skins of their enemies was so much a chiefly activity or right that in addition to adorning the entrances to their residences and enclosures with "an incredible quantity" of these human trophies (Cieza de Leon 1947:378), chiefs erected special structures or charnels in which to display them. For example, the paramount chief of the province of Lile, Petecuy, displayed the dessicated, stuffed bodies of some 400 enemy warriors in his charnel (Andagoya 1945:436). It seems clear that the accumulation of human trophies on the part of individual warriors was overshadowed by the chief's practice of hoarding, sacrificing, and consuming war captives on a large scale, and then publicly displaying their remains in his precinct. Moreover, these human war trophies that substantiated a chief's military might were regarded forever as prestige items. As with other war spoils, the chief bestowed them upon his

followers and offered them as gifts to neighboring chiefs (Castellanos 1850:332, 334). Mortuary treatment The mortuary treatment of warriors in these tribes and chiefdoms corresponds to their social status in life and the circumstances of their death. Taking up the latter factor first, the bodies of warriors killed during a tribal raid in enemy territory may be claimed later by old women and carried home in hammocks, or else hastily buried along the route home (Karsten 1935:292; Drown and Drown 1961:98; Cocco 1972:386, 388; Valero 1984:261, 367). We have seen how the sites of chiefly wars were strewn with the bones of war victims, from which we can infer that the bodies of most warriors killed in battle were left behind and subjected to the various kinds of ritual sacrifices described above (Andagoya 1945:390,404). Nowhere are the differences between the achieved statuses available to tribesmen and the ascribed statuses characteristic of chiefdoms as evident as in the mortuary treatment of distinguished warriors. Great warriors in tribal societies are usually accorded more elaborate mourning ceremonies than other males their age, which are designed to bestow the avengers of their death with some of the very qualities that they had achieved during their lifetime. Nevertheless, their final resting place is no different from that of their fellow tribesmen, be it as sub-floor or scaffold burials among the Jivaro, or as ashes in small gourds among the Yanomamo (Harner 1972:168-9; Chagnon 1983:106, 186-7, 1988:986; Valero 1984:264-5, 359). Renowned warriors in the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms were awarded military captainships by their chiefs and joined the elite stratum of society, along with their wives, and sons, who were obliged to distinguish themselves in the art of war as well (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:130; Andagoya 1865:12). Accordingly, these military captains (cabras) were entitled to elite forms of mortuary treatment and preservation, which included the aboveground storage of their bodies in special funerary chambers, or their burial in tombs (Castellanos 1850:342, 356; Lothrop 1937:43-8; Trimborn 1949:198, 228, 368). Of course, chiefs were accorded the most elaborate mourning ceremonies and mortuary practices. Their rich funerary accompaniments included the bodies of women and war captives, who were sacrificed in order to serve as chiefly burial retainers (Castellanos 1850:258, 276; Oviedo y Valdes 1853:154^-6; Espinosa 1873:23-7; Andagoya 1945:394-5; Cieza de Leon 1947:365, 368, 369, 374; Trimborn 1949:203,226-32; Reichel-Dolmatoff 1951:92).

External warfare and internal politics

From tribal war leader to paramount chief

If we look back at warfare as it is pursued by uncentralized tribesmen and by chiefs who exercise centralized regional authority, it is easy to spot the limitations of the former's consensus-based decision making. The individual war pursuits of tribesmen for the purposes of seeking blood revenge and prestige are supplanted in chiefdoms by the chief's ambitious military pursuits, through which he enlarges his authority over his regional domain. As supreme war leader, a chief accomplishes his military objectives by stockpiling armaments and provisions, presiding over war councils and divinatory rituals with neighboring chiefs, and leading large, allied fighting forces commanded by military captains. In contrast to the extended war preparations for a tribal raid, a chief has the capacity to mobilize his fighting forces expeditiously. With their larger, hierarchically organized fighting forces, chiefly war parties can sweep through enemy territory and attack multiple settlements. Whereas repeated tribal raids can eventually take their toll on the supply of available warriors (Stirling 1938:40), chiefs can mobilize fighting forces that are large enough to enable them to reinforce their front lines tenfold with fresh troops during their day-long battles, and to launch repeated attacks. In times of war, the chief's subjects can seek refuge at his fortified center, where they can either withstand a prolonged attack, or take up arms and wage war in the defense of their chief's center and territory. With their centralized decision-making organization, chiefdoms "can respond to system-endangering changes in the environment with much more sensitivity, speed, precision, and flexibility" (Rappaport 1971b:66) than can uncentralized tribesmen. Sources of power

In view of the advantages of centralized decision making in the conduct of warfare, let us consider the sources of power that can accrue to a successful tribal war leader through external warfare, which can supply him with the political leverage to become more than just a man of renown. The power garnered by a tribal war leader can make it possible for him to overcome the limitations of tribal authority and to wield centralized decision making on a regional level. Although the leaders of tribal raiding parties look no different from their fellow warriors when they set off to war, they do assume a tier of command above the other members of the war party. We have seen how the leaders of war parties plan the raid, recruit warriors, conduct

51

pre-war rituals, and decide on the precise form and timing of the attack. Their leadership of tribal raiding parties provides these distinguished warriors with opportunities to hone their skills in the art of leading, of persuading and cajoling the other members of their war parties to follow, sometimes in the direst of circumstances (Karsten 1935:267-8; Drown and Drown 1961:79-80; Chagnon 1983:186). Their command of war parties offers them decided organizational advantages, especially as leaders of allied war parties, which could number up to 500 Jivaro warriors at the turn of the century (Harner 1972:204). In addition to the sheer power derived from organizing and commanding large fighting forces is the experience, indeed the wisdom, that these war leaders gain through their frequent participation in long-distance raids against enemy settlements located far beyond their tribal boundaries. The information that they acquire throughout their careers as warriors, eventually as distinguished warriors, and ultimately as the leaders of war parties, is keenly recognized and respected by other tribesmen. The Jivaro express this wealth of information in the personal arutam power, called kakarma, acquired by warriors who have killed, "which is believed to increase one's intelligence as well as simple physical strength" (Harner 1972:139, 91). As their reputation as kakaram or "powerful ones" grows, these distinguished killers will be sought out to organize and lead war parties for others, including their enemies. In the process of conducting raids for other villages, successful war party leaders accumulate further kakarma, including information about other regions and tribes, and become ti kakaram or "very powerful ones" (Harner 1972:110-15). By the time they reach this point in their careers, these successful war leaders will have achieved a certain prominance in the region. Among the Jivaro, the invitation to lead raiding parties for other villages provides a war leader with opportunities to build alliances, and to enlarge his network of reciprocal obligations. Over time, the leader of many raiding parties who becomes a ti kakaram "may theoretically have on call almost all the men of several neighborhoods and some of the men of a number of other localities" (Harner 1972:115). These local war leaders who become regional war leaders are known today by the Quechua-derived designation curaca. Their power is based solely on their personal reputation and influence over the members of their following. Yet a strong curaca can augment his influence and power in the region and beyond by the same process of agreeing to conduct raiding parties for other, weaker

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curacas, to the point where he dominates other curacas, Chagnon has recently demonstrated that Yanomamo "until one curaka may have 8 or 10 curakas more or less men who have killed tend to have more wives, either by under his control" (Stirling 1938:39). abducting them from raided villages, or by the usual The degree of regional prominence that can be marriage alliances in which they are considered more achieved by successful curacas through warfare is illus- attractive as mates. Consequently, these distinguished trated by the ways in which the Jivaro refer to these warriors also have more offspring (Chagnon 1988:989supra-village alliances. Most Jivaro groups that recog- 90). Distinguished Jivaro warriors have large, well-built nize a common war leader or curaca are made up of houses, where they can put up guests, and host feasts and several villages along 5 or 6 miles of a small river and dances (Harner 1972:45-6). By virtue of their status as "such a group has no name to designate it other than killers, they don elaborate feather headdresses and ornathat of the stream on which it is located" (Stirling ments when they are visiting or receiving others (Harner 1938:39). But Siverts has suggested that some of the 1972:112-13). tribal names recognized by the Jivaro began as desigDistinguished warriors adopt a stylized manner of nations for such war alliances. In the case of the Antipa greeting others that is frank and forceful. In fact, they Jivaro, "a temporary grouping of allies was given the convey an impression of being invincible in every aspect name of the war leader or of the river on which he was of their public personae (Harner 1972:113). At death, residing. Thus the Antipa may well have been an Agua- they will be accorded more elaborate funerary treatment runa group distinguished from other Jivaro on account than other males their age, in the form of more elaborate of a powerful leader by the name of Antipa" (Siverts and repeated mourning ceremonies, and in the case of 1975:667). the Jivaro, a formal period of lying-in-state (Harner In the process of waging war for other villages and 1972:168-9). gaining renown in the region, a successful war leader accumulates material forms of wealth, including trophy Legitimation ofpower heads, women, weapons, ammunition, curare poison, How can tribal war leaders assume permanent positions tools, ornaments, and other valuables (Drown and of leadership given the fact that even the regional domiDrown 1961:98-9; Harner 1972:116, 187, 207). These nance achieved by curacas is usually short lived (Stirling foreign resources are offered as inducements or rewards 1938:39)? Harner points out that by the time a Jivaro war to him by the recruiting party (Valero 1984:398, 485, leader has achieved the regional prominence and power 532). of a curaca, he tends to be elderly. He will reach an age If not promised beforehand, the successful war leader when he no longer leads war parties himself, and eventuobtains these foreign resources for himself during the ally other war leaders will supplant him (Stirling looting spree that follows a successful raid upon an 1938:40; Drown and Drown 1961:98-102; Harner enemy settlement. The war leader acts no differently 1972:116). from his fellow warriors, for we are told that each An aging tribal war leader can overcome the above member of the raiding party keeps for himself all that he dilemma by encouraging his sons to distinguish themcan lay his hands on in the process of ransacking the selves in warfare and to lead war parties for him, thereby houses (Up de Graff 1923:274-5; Drown and Drown being in a natural position to inherit his position as he 1961:98). In the case of captured women, however, "they grows old and dies. Already at the age of six or seven are divided among the successful warriors, the curaka years the sons of distinguished Jivaro warriors are taken taking his choicefirst"(Stirling 1938:56, emphasis added, along on raids in order to be instructed in raiding skills see also Drown and Drown 1961:99). Not only does the (Harner 1972:113). They also begin seeking arutam successful war leader stand to accumulate substantial powers like their fathers by fasting, taking ritual baths, material benefits through external warfare, but also he and drinking green tobacco water (Harner 1972:136). can use this wealth in self-serving ways to build alliances, Their initiation rituals at the age of 15 or 16 years test provision his war parties, host feasts, and bestow gifts some of their growing qualities as warriors. They must upon the members of his following, thereby becoming a venture into the forest, kill a tree sloth, prepare a trophy power to be reckoned with in the region (Webster from its head, and then celebrate mock victory feasts, 1975:468-9). complete with the taking of hallucinogenic maikua juice, Apart from their potential for amassing wealth, distin- which is supposed to fill them with power and resolve guished warriors-cum-war leaders can achieve a superior (Karsten 1935:238-42; Harner 1972:93). social status, which is manifested in a number of ways. As the war leaders grow old and no longer fit to lead

External warfare and internal politics

war parties, they will send their sons, who are already achieving renown as warriors themselves, in their place (Harner 1972:116; Drown and Drown 1961:98). On their deathbed they might inform their sons of their wish for them to acquire their arutam power when they die. Each night during the subsequent lying-in-state period, their sons will pay them ritual visits and drink tobacco water in order to seek their arutam power (Harner 1972:168-9). The possibility for the sons of war leaders to inherit their father's position is facilitated in this way. Theoretically, the eldest son of a curaca inherits his father's position of leadership in war, "because he is, as it were, a direct continuation of his father, has received a careful education for the deeds of war, and has always had the good example of his great father before his eyes" (Karsten 1935:267). Nevertheless, he is entitled to receive his father's "chieftainship," as Stirling (1938:40) refers to it, only if he has pursued the art of warfare and gained renown as a distinguished warrior. As I mentioned earlier, this is precisely the condition upon which the sons of distinguished warriors could inherit the title and elite status of cabras (military captains) in the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms. This means that those tribal war leaders who prepare their sons for war, who give them opportunities to lead war parties, and who pass on their special powers to them, will sow the seeds of hereditary leadership, by offering their sons the chance to inherit their position of leadership in times of war. This advantage held by the sons of tribal war leaders, when coupled with their own success in warfare, can lead under certain conditions to the establishment of a line of hereditary war leaders, like the inherited cabras in the sixteenth-century chiefdoms, with all the sumptuary privileges that they enjoyed. Let us turn to some of the socioenvironmental conditions related to warfare that might promote such centralized, hereditary leadership on the regional level, in which such a lineage of related war leaders might be institutionalized and made permanent. Under conditions of escalating warfare, resulting from external stresses of population growth and environmental and social circumscription (Chagnon 1968b:250-l; Carneiro 1970:735-7), but also, I would maintain, to the pursuit of unrelenting warfare on the part of power-seeking war leaders, the limitations of uncentralized tribal authority will soon be felt. As tribal warfare approximates the intensity of warfare observed among chiefdoms, who are known to wage year-round, monthly attacks on their enemies, and even repeated, daily attacks, it might favor the development of centralized leadership. The changing motives for war under these conditions spur more

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frequent and unpredictable warfare, irrespective of the season of the year. The waging of more frequent warfare would promote the formation of supra-village alliances and the consequent mobilization of larger, allied war parties. The first steps in this process have been documented by Chagnon in the interior of Yanomamo territory, where villages are surrounded on all sides by neighbors, where warfare is more frequent, and where the opportunities for settlement relocation are fewer than along the tribe's periphery. Here, for example, the Patanowa-teri were raided at least twenty-five times between November 1964 and February 1966, and they retaliated frequently (Chagnon 1968a:141, 1983:71-2, 180). In response to the more intense warfare that is waged in the tribal heartland, the headmen of these villages establish more offensive and defensive alliances with neighboring villages than do the headmen of villages on the tribe's periphery. Settlements here are also larger, in part because of a higher degree of population nucleation that is produced by the fusion of allied villages (Chagnon 1983:79). Through warfare, village headmen here are stronger, more influential. "Thus, while still at the autonomous village level of political organization, those Yanomamo subject to social circumscription have clearly moved a step or two in the direction of higher political development" (Carneiro 1970:737). The frequency of tribal warfare can also be accelerated by ambitious war leaders seeking prestige and prominence on the regional level, as the following example illustrates. In the 1920s two Jivaro curacas of the well-populated Canga and upper Yaupe rivers joined together in a powerful military alliance to wage "constant" raids against all the tribes in the area and beyond. Over a period often tofifteenyears the two war leaders compiled impressive military victories - each was credited with taking more than fifty heads - to the point that they became the terror of the region (Stirling 1938:40). In order to further their own careers as curacas, they were responsible for inciting intense warfare over a large area. In the face of escalating warfare, there will be a continuing need for mobilizing allied war parties, for the purposes of both defense and retaliation. Those distinguished war leaders who have built up a large network of supra-village alliances and who can mobilize large, allied fighting forces on short notice will be poised for positions of permanent leadership. Their readiness in the face of more frequent, year-round warfare, and their successful command of supra-village war parties will be recognized and endorsed by their followers, who will

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turn to them for protection and depend increasingly on on to succeeding leaders, can thus give rise to centralized their leadership. Their capacity for centralized leader- chiefdoms under the permanent authority of paramount ship enables them to respond quickly and effectively to chiefs. frequent socioenvironmental stresses, and over time they and their designated successors will be sought out repeatedly as leaders (Rappaport 1971b:66; Harner Acknowledgments 1972:115; Chagnon 1983:124). I would like to thank Charles Spencer, Elizabeth BrumIn time, the temporary grouping of allied villages fiel, and Joyce Marcus for their comments on this paper. under the authority of such a war leader would be made permanent and institutionalized in the form of a chiefdom, with the war leader's village as the chiefly center, Notes and with a common territory to defend. Such a regional 1 Other forms of hostility exist in these societies, such as unit would probably be named for the war chief who duels, club fights, and even occasional assassinations, spawned it or for the river on which his village lay but they are usually spurred by individual feuds and (Siverts 1975:667), and his heirs would inherit that desiggenerally take place on the local level. Both the Yanonation upon their succession to office. In this way, the mamo and the Jivaro distinguish between these local chiefdom constitutes the permanent institutionalization hostilities and true warfare (Harner 1972:116, 180-3; of a tribal military alliance into a single, centralized Chagnon 1983:170). We know that the Circumpolitical unit with a common territory. The centralized Caribbean chiefdoms engaged in military jousts at chiefdom has obvious military advantages over the their feasts, but any deaths incurred during these contemporary groupings of allied villages that form to tests did not provoke blood revenge (Espinosa conduct tribal warfare, in terms of both defense and 1864:470; Trimborn 1949:150-1). Any hostilities that offense. Its component villages that once maintained did erupt within a paramount chief's domain were their own sovereignty embrace the protective hegemony short lived, since the chief had the authority to squelch of the paramount chief and heed his call to arms. personal feuds, usually by punishing the offenders. In Moreover, their pursuit of blood revenge is supplanted this way, there was little internecine warfare (Oviedo by the chief's agenda of ambitious expansionism and yValdes 1853:129, 142). confederation. Not surprisingly, once the process of 2 In a larger study of South American warfare I have chiefdom formation is set in motion, we witness the considered the archaeological manifestations of tribal rapid development of chiefdoms (Carneiro 1981:66). The and chiefly warfare, with the aim of examining the role power garnered by tribal war leaders through external assumed by warfare in the emergence of prehistoric warfare, when it is successfully manipulated and passed chiefdoms (Redmond 1990, n.d.).

bility were forged by a combination of various interpersonal associations, including consanguineal and affinal bonds, rewards for valorous military service, and defeat and incorporation of rivals. Preservation of the dessicated remains of quevis' deceased ancestors, richly dressed and suspended with ropes in order of the rank they held in life, in the interior chamber of a quevi's chiefly compound indicates further extension of sociopolitical ties by recognition of ancestral genealogies of some depth (Helms 1979:9). While we know something of the activities and lifeMARY W. HELMS styles characteristic of elites, there are very few ethnohistorical data concerning the composition and character of the public support groups directed, manipulated, or represented by them. We know that the general populace was distinguished from the elite by dress, by status endogamy, and by differences in life-crisis rites. In the late seventeenth century Lionel Wafer commented on the A number of years ago I presented an argument, based large and well-built family dwellings of the populace on ethnohistorical materials and cross-cultural ethno- (Kuna) "where the patriarch exercises control over all graphic comparisons, concerning the general "type" of the group, consisting of his wife and daughters with their chiefdom organization evidenced by the several dozen husbands and children, and, often, grand-daughters with polities of the Panamanian isthmus at the time of Euro- their families" (Wafer in Helms 1979:13-14). This popupean contact. I concluded that these polities were char- lation lived in dispersed settlements with scattered dwellacterized by a high level of status competition and ings located here and there near waterways about the rivalry among high-ranking men of influence, who valleys and on mountain slopes, with more nucleated sought to bolster or legitimate whatever inherited claims chiefly compounds (bohios) as societal and possibly milito high office they held by high-visibility public activities tary focal points (Helms 1979:8-9). In the absence of that would evidence their personal capabilities as further information we can perhaps assume that this ancient Panamanian society was characterized by some dynamic men of action (Helms 1979:3, 22-3). Panamanian society was basically divided between arrangement of ranked lineages. I suspect entire lineages ordinary people and elite persons of higher rank with were ranked relative to others, as elite lineages vis-a-vis named statuses. Among the elite, those termed quevis commoners; but it is possible that a system of personal held the highest offices - we can consider them to be high ranking simply differentiated members within individual chiefs. Those termed sacos are described as principal lineages. personages who had vassals but were inferior in rank to Since the available information on the formal comquevis; they could be brothers of quevis or lords subord- position of social groups is limited, questions as to inated to quevis by defeat in warfare. The lowest level of whether factions as defined by Brumfiel and Fox existed elite status was held by honored warriors of commoner and the possible nature of factional activities and comstatus who achieved a rank, called cabra, by virtue of petition in precolumbian Panamanian chiefdoms outstanding bravery in battle (Oviedo in Helms 1979:12, cannot be directly discussed. Yet these questions might 13). Oviedo also notes a territorial referent for the be approached in a somewhat round-about manner by various grades of elites in which the provinces, rivers, considering several other related issues pertinent to the valleys, and places where members of the elite lived were organization and operation of these ranked societies. I given the names of the particular quevis, sacos and cabras shall, therefore, address questions concerning the concerned. This practice may indicate that cabras and permanence and the centrality of authority in isthmian sacos held overlapping stewardship over the various polities, as well as areas of possible group activities territorial villages and districts that, in sum, composed versus areas of individual interests and activity. We may the total domain or province of a quevi(p. 13). then be able to gain some perspective on the matter of Judging from all available evidence, the ties connec- factions. ting this hierarchy of command and political responsiLet us begin with permanence. In a recent review

Chiefdom rivalries, control, and external contacts in lower Central America

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article, Robert Carneiro (1987) reiterates what he considers to constitute the most fundamentally significant evidence of the presence of chiefdoms in a given region, and suggests that the presence of a high-ranked paramount leader who actually holds permanent political control over other chiefly community leaders is the critical issue; this in contrast to more nominal or merely formal situations where actual permanent subjugation of the leaders and population of regional villages did not occur, although individuals could become subordinate to another, for example by capture in war, or villages could become satellite units loosely integrated or allied within the ambit of a high-ranking chief (Carneiro 1981:45-6; 1987:761). In other words, even if principles of direct descent from founding ancestors are evidenced, the important question remains as to the capacity for a paramount chief to implement real power to control lineage heads and other high-ranked personages and to limit or channel the extent of their more self-interested activities in favor either of his own self-interests or of more corporate concerns of the entire polity. Carneiro suggests that intermittent or recurring alliances among otherwise autonomous villages and their leaders should be distinguished from permanent control by a paramount leader, and such community alliances should be recognized as constituting a separate stage in sociopolitical development, standing between autonomous villages and real chiefdoms (Carneiro 1981:45-6; 1987:761). Although our recognition of the polities of Lower Central America on the eve of the conquest as chiefdoms is based on a number of additional characteristics, it is useful to consider the extent to which Carneiro's description of intermittent community alliances might be pertinent to the Panamanian picture. Certainly alliances were formed among men of rank, and it is by no means clear whether such alliances occurred mainly between quevis, each of whom may then have directed more completely or permanently the activities of his subordinate sacos, or whether intermittent or periodic alliances also characterized relations between quevis and their sacos. In other words, how permanent was the authority of a quevi on the one hand and how easy or difficult was it for a saco to emerge as an independent leader in his own right or to indulge in independent activity irrelevant of his subordinate status vis-a-vis a given lord? Two ethnohistoric comments are relevant, although their brevity and generality considerably limit their ethnological usefulness. Both these incidents involved a quevi called Parita, and certain so-called "allies." In the first instance, when Parita held council to decide whether to fight or to negotiate with the Spaniards, one of his

brothers urged that gold be used to gain the support of allies and that they attack. In the second incident, Parita requested help from the Spaniards to subdue his purported ally (Suema), who was resisting his alliance with Parita, wishing to have gold without having to obey the regional lord (Helms 1979:60). Both incidents seem to indicate a rather loose system or network of possible alliances and considerable independence for so-called allies, though we do not know whether the persons involved were independent quevis or sacos at least nominally under Parita. It is also important to consider what types of activities were involved in relationships among quevis and/or sacos. Were they individualistic activities involving selfinterested elite enterprises, or self-interested elite activities assisted by wider support groups, or activities involving not only efforts but also interests of constituent support (kin) groups, more or less as a whole, whatever their particular organizational framework? (We should also remember that individual activities may also serve group- as well as self-interests, or even serve both purposes at once.) Although the ethnohistoric data are very scanty, some degree of "internal" administrative associations and responsibilities surely existed between the commoner population of a given territory or "province" and the elite cabras, sacos and/or quevis of that territory, who at the very least accepted generalized stewardship of the overall well-being, socially and ideologically, of the population of a given ancestral territory. We are told, for example, that quevis were responsible for settling quarrels and disputes, and could administer capital punishment for perjury (Helms 1979:16). Concerning the all-important question of the production and distribution of basic subsistence goods, I have been of the opinion that control or direction of basic subsistence activity within a given polity probably was the responsibility of domestic groups and did not directly concern ranked authority figures, or if it did, it involved mainly gabras, the lowest and least permanent of elites, who are said to have lived apart from commoners, apparently as local administrators, and who directed land and villages (Helms 1979:13; cf. Goldman 1970:482-6, 508; Peebles and Kus 1977:426). I suggest that activities directly associated with individuals of high rank, i.e., sacos and quevis, and related questions of permanent control vs. periodic alliances among highstatus men, are more likely to have involved political ideology rather than subsistence economics, particularly those aspects of political ideology expressed by activities in some manner considered to be "external" to consti-

Chiefdom rivalries, control, and external contacts tuent kin (or other social) groups. The most relevant issues here would include organization and/or conduct of external warfare and organization and/or conduct of peaceful external contacts, including long-distance associations with gods and with men. With respect to warfare, Oviedo mentions that warfare was conducted for "power" and for land. Yet I do not think competition among polities for access to subsistence sources, caused perhaps by increasing population pressure, was common (though I certainly cannot rule it out; cf. Helms 1979:49-50 re Pearl Islands). The Spaniards commented frequently on the abundance of food of all sorts (fresh water and ocean fish, turtles, manatee, wild game, diverse agricultural products) and food resources seem, on the face of it, to have been quite adequate; certainly the storerooms of chiefly compounds were full (Helms 1979:11). I am particularly intrigued by Andagoya's comment that warfare was for access to hunting and fishing territories (Helms 1979:33). Although game and fish were smoked and salted apparently for general consumption, I would like to suggest that fishing and hunting might also have been activities specifically associated with high rank; activities not only important for subsistence but also carrying symbolic or ideological relevance for the concept of eliteness (cf. Peebles and Kus 1977:425 re Hawaii). If so, competition over fishing and hunting grounds could have reflected not only - or perhaps not much - general population need but also, or even especially, expression of competitive personal and status rivalries among quevis and/or sacos. It is also noteworthy here that there was no regular tribute collected in Panama, but that, in return for food and drink, personal contributions and labor were expected when the chief required various services, including house building, planting, fishing, and at times of war. We also read that the lord had certain men who farmed for him, others who hunted and fished, although sometimes the quevi himself took part in these activities (Helms 1979:14). This information appears to indicate that certain agricultural lands were set aside for chiefly use, and it is entirely possible that certain hunting and fishing sites were also considered his. Chiefly domains in many cases seem to have been ecologically diverse, reaching from higher mountain slopes to ocean littoral. To the extent that access to forests, rivers, streams, swamps, beach, and ocean involved territory on or closer to the frontiers or margins of chiefly provinces (in contrast to more fully integrated or occupied agricultural territory), access to these regions might have more readily offered the possibility

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of trespass on to lands of neighboring lords or into disputed territory (cf. Peebles and Kus 1977:425). Such entry could have occasioned the conflicts mentioned by the Spaniards, all the more so if type or quantity of fish or game available in a lord's storehouses also reflected on his status and/or personal capabilities as lord, and if success in hunting and fishing held particular symbolic significance for men in high positions. It is possible, then, that external warfare as an activity involving interaction among elites could have reflected personal interests as much or more than group interests, even though elites presumably were assisted militarily by kinsmen or subordinate elites in these sorties. Similarly, we must remember that success in war meant opportunity for individuals, including personal honor and social advancement (as cabras) for commoner warriors, as it also led to a decline in individual social status for those who were captured and thereby became servants (pacos) of victorious lords (Helms 1979:11, 14). I would argue, then, that warfare supported the political aspirations of rivalrous men of influence as much as, or more than, it involved community economic needs. In addition, gaining control over people by taking individual captives or perhaps subordinating a losing lord (and his lineage members?) as saco further evidenced personal success or failure for high lords. Presumably such advantages could also be temporary and could be reversed the next time warriors clashed; if so they would have expressed shifting alliances and oppositions among men of influence (and their support groups, unless group support tended to beflexible,too) more than expressing the permanent, paramount dominance of one lord above the rest. Permanent alliances are more likely to have been expressed by marriage, as when the quevi Escoria defeated the quevi Parita, and then married a sister or cousin of his former foe (Helms 1979:58). On the other hand, paramount dominance might have existed with respect to certain other external areas of elite interest. "Outside" activities also include peaceful contacts among separate polities, near or far, as well as between peoples and their gods. In considering the extent to which quevis may have exercised permanent control over other elites of precolumbian Panamanian polities we need to consider briefly these several areas of long-distance contacts. The crucial question regarding paramountcy with respect to contacts between men and gods rests on whether chiefly compounds also served as the highest or most powerful religious centers of the isthmus, whether the chief supervised the construction of other types of

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religious shrines (cf. Peebles and Kus 1977:426), and/or (burial or above-ground preservation of remains, elaborwhether quevis served as high religious functionaries, or ate grave goods, sacrificed retainers) (pp. 18-19). directed those who did. Since chiefly bohios contained In fact, if one considers all available ethnohistoric the mummified remains of elite ancestors, elite centers data, the degree of elaboration of elite sumptuary goods would seem to have held some ideological preeminence, and behaviors seems somewhat out of proportion to the and according to Lionel Wafer in the seventeenth degree of authority apparently available to elites. The century, a native chief or "clan leader" could also be an public expression of high rank and status via regalia and "Indian clergyman" (Helms 1979:111). Yet Oviedo and special forms of etiquette may have preceded actual Andagoya specifically identify a separate individual, authority, may in fact have been a necessary precalled tecuria or tequina (meaning "master"), who was in condition for the acceptance of such authority or at least charge of supernatural contacts and prognostications, significantly facilitated it, perhaps in the sense suggested who was apparently distinct from the quevi, and who by Allen (1984:36) whereby a high level of specification communicated with the deities from within a small roof- of insignia and ritual procedures constitutes a kind of less enclosure. Thus quevis may not have had permanent orthodoxy or idiom of legitimacy, access to which can paramount dominance as religious functionaries or then be controlled by men of influence. (Other ethnomediators between people and gods. graphic examples of this phenomenon may be found in However, a different type of "distant" contact involv- Toby 1984 and Chaffetz 1981.) ing earthly polities and earthly elites is also evidenced The rationale underlying this proposal is that the both in archaeological discovery of sumptuary or elite successful attainment of public symbols by high chiefs is goods and in ethnohistoric mention of "trade" in eso- not only indicative of the need to have tangible evidence teric information and material goods (specifically pearls, of high rank but is also a statement of appropriate gold ornaments, shells, fine textiles, salt, fine ceramics), personal chiefly capabilities evidenced both in symbol items that served both as exchange goods and as public and in substance in the acquisition and/or production, display symbols for high-status elites (cf. pp. 43-9 followed by public display, of exceptional (rare, scarce, passim, 56-7, 63, 66). Paramountcy in terms of acqui- unusual), mystical, sacred, or power-filled things and sition of such long-distance materials would appear to be information. Acquisition of "wealth" of this sort is also significantly conditioned by whether or not a given quevi fundamental to chiefdom leadership because it visibly controlled access to crucial points on long-distance defines the meaning of hierarchy, primarily by making travel routes. hierarchy appear to be a "natural (cosmological)" or For Panamanian elites this meant control of crucial "sacred" - and therefore unquestionable - phenomenon settings near trans-sierran land routes, at important river (Kus 1982). The principle of hierarchy, in turn, defines junctions, or at sea ports (pp. 42-8 passim, 57-8). In the concept of chief and restricts this position to a select fact, there is some evidence and considerable speculation few. Stated otherwise, paramountcy with respect to that competition for access to such routes also provoked access to public display symbols could have represented warfare, and that distribution of elite valuables obtained the most important aspect of real or potential chiefly by long-distance contacts could facilitate elite alliances power available to high lords in isthmian polities at the for other purposes (Helms 1979:chapter 2). I have also time of European contact. hypothesized that the most influential and powerful PanObviously public symbols of high status were worn by amanian quevis were those who were able to control individuals and expressed rank and status in a personiaccess to such trade and travel routes. That is to say, a fied manner. As indicated above, they may also have significant degree of paramountcy may have been attested to the individual, personal abilities of those who achieved with respect to long-distance travel and acqui- displayed them, in so far as display represented successsition of valued rank and status symbols. ful activities in long-distance affairs or in effecting alliThe importance of access to public symbols of high ances with other elites who offered sumptuary goods in rank is also underscored by the more detailed infor- return for other forms of support. Such goods thereby mation in the Spanish accounts concerning sumptuary also illustrated and illuminated the elite focal point, the goods and distinctive elite behaviors, including distinct- centrality of the political order. ive headdresses, abundance of elaborate gold ornaThe need to emphasize centrality in chiefdoms has ments, distinctive robes, carved and painted chiefly been commented upon by various writers, including houses, carrying litters (hammocks) for quevis, use of Henry Wright and Charles Spencer, and I have found chiefly language, and special life-crisis rites for chiefs their arguments persuasive. As Spencer has reminded us

Chiefdom rivalries, control, and external contacts (1987), decision-making authority in chiefdoms is generally distributed between two basic hierarchical levels, that of the local community and that of the wider region (cf. Carneiro 1981:45-6). Authority is centralized on both levels, but is notably generalized, lacking in significant internal administrative specializations, and characterized by minimal internal differentiation of leadership roles (Spencer 1987:372). This means, in effect, that the jobs of regional and local leaders - in Panama, quevis, sacos, and/or cabras — differed only degree, and that it would have been difficult thereby for a regional quevi to delegate part of his authority to local level associates (who, it is important to note, may also have been allied by marriage or as blood kinsmen), for whenever he did so he risked political challenge and possible usurpation. Spencer notes that a regional chief's main recourse in such a situation is to encourage community leaders to be as self-sufficient as possible with respect to regulatory problems existing on their level, while he attempts to coordinate activities pertaining to the region as a whole. This strategy, however, raises the problem for a regional chief of how to foster local self-regulation, which will enhance local leaders' power, and yet maintain wider political allegiance and a higher political position for himself (Spencer 1987:376). Spencer notes several mechanisms which can assist the regional chief to overcome this administrative challenge. First, sanctification of authority, in which the chief is identified with important supernatural forces or beings and is enveloped in religious ceremonialism. We have seen that sanctification of authority held true to at least some extent in ancient Panama if legitimation of authority by preserved chiefly ancestors and the cosmological significance of public display goods are considered. Second, Spencer notes fostering of alliances by marriage or fictive kinship between the regional lord and community leaders. In Panama, marriage between quevis and sacos is indicated, though to what extent such ties included community leaders is not clear. Third, acquisition of scarce prestige goods from distant regions to be used as status symbols and exchange items with community leaders. In Panama this aspect of quevis' activity seems to have been well developed by at least some, crucially located quevis. Fourth, inter-polity warfare. Again, in Panama there is evidence of such, though to what extent regional centralization was enhanced by war it is hard to say. Nonetheless, if Spencer is correct, one of the basic jobs for a quevi in precolumbian Panama, and presumably one of the major characteristics of Panamanian polities

and politics in general would have been the need simply to maintain regional centrality by emphasizing associations with supernatural powers, developing kin ties with local leaders, acquiring foreign prestige goods, and engaging in successful external warfare. Success in these areas of activity would elaborate both the concept and the reality of the chiefly center and with it at least some degree of paramountcy. Returning at last to the question of factions in preinColumbian Panama, the issue becomes one of considering how - or even if - factions (vertically composed groups) may have helped or hindered both the development and maintenance of centrality and attempts at chiefly paramountcy over lesser lords. Working within the constraints of the limited ethnohistoric data available, I have not found much explicit evidence either for or against significant faction-based activities in preColumbian Panamanian chiefdoms. Thus the question essentially must remain open. I would suggest that to the extent factions (probably composed of lineage-based kin-groups) did operate, they did so in support of the personalistic activities of their high-status leaders. These lords, in turn, were concerned primarily with their individual and largely self-interested roles in the competitive personal rivalries that existed among quevis and sacos of the diverse Panamanian polities, all of whom were concerned with pursuing the particular activities that could elaborate regional chiefly centrality and/or could promote dimensions of paramountcy more than with activities that provided direct material benefit to the population at large. By these criteria, Carneiro might question (not that he has) whether true chiefdoms existed in Panama, or if we had instead a situation of allied polities or confederations that were pre-chiefdom in evolutionary development. I am convinced (and I think Carneiro would agree) that combined evidence of differential status levels, distinct obeisance and sumptuary contrasts among ranks, the focality evidenced by chiefly compounds, and other aspects of political and social life not mentioned here leave little doubt that ranked and centralized polities with chiefs holding at least some degree of paramountcy clearly existed, and that the dynamics of warfare and alliances, even if fluctuating and intermittent, represented fields or spheres of external political activity among the elites of such chiefdoms. The question of whether (or the extent to which) such alliances and oppositions involved factional kinbased support groups is more problematical, though not unlikely. The question of whether such alliances and oppositions were oriented directly and overtly to

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the needs and interests of factional groups rather than to more personalistic concerns of individual members of the elite cannot be directly answered either, However, given the evidence at hand, and my own

analytical inclinations in matters of chiefdom organization and operation in general, I support a personalistic rather than factional interpretation of intended goals.

Factional competition and the political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms in the Southeastern United States DAVID G. ANDERSON

Introduction

From AD 900 to AD 1600 a complex and changing constellation of chiefdoms occupied much of the Southeastern United States. Called the Mississippian, after the central Mississippi alluvial valley where extensive remains from this culture were identified in the nineteenth century, this way of life was characterized by sedentary communities, intensive maize agriculture, platform mounds, and a hierarchical society. The subsistence economy was based on the intensive utilization of both cultigens and wild plant and animal resources, and large settlements were located, for the most part, on the terraces of major drainages. The story of the emergence and evolution of these societies has fascinated archaeologists for over a century. Research emphases have changed from concerns about the origin of these "mound builders," to interest in material culture and chronology and, most recently, to questions about the organization, operation, and evolution of these societies. As archaeological research has progressed a tremendous amount of information has been collected. Thousands of Mississippian sites are now known from the region, and hundreds have been extensively excavated. In some areas chronological resolution on the order of 100-year intervals is now possible, giving researchers the opportunity to examine political and organizational change with a fine degree of chronological control. A rich ethnohistoric record is also available, dating from the era of initial Spanish, French, and English exploration. The earliest sixteenth-century accounts, before the native chiefdoms collapsed from contact-

induced depopulation and warfare, contain invaluable descriptions of life in these societies, evidence of considerable value in the examination of archaeological materials. Through a combination of archaeological and ethnohistorical analysis, in fact, it is now possible to produce detailed pictures of the location, size, and operation of many of the region's pre-contact chiefdoms. The Mississippian archaeological record is replete with examples of the emergence, expansion, and decline of chiefly polities in a complex mosaic of shifting power relationships that forms, as one researcher has put it, "one of the world's major observational laboratories for the study of [the] pristine evolution ... of complex societies" (House 1982:37). How factional competition shaped the developmental trajectories that are observed in the archaeological record is examined, as are procedures by which the process may be investigated. Southeastern Mississippian society: the ethnohistoric record

Early sixteenth-century European explorers in the Southeast, such as Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca, Hernando de Soto, Tristan de Luna, Juan Pardo, Rene Laudonniere, and John White, and others like them, saw complex Mississippian chiefdoms in near-pristine form, before they disintegrated as a consequence of contact. These early explorers were quite familiar with the processes and effects of factional competition. Many of the great nation states of the day had themselves only just emerged from intense periods of factional competition, as exemplified by struggles such as the Wars of the Roses in England or the events leading to the political unification of the Iberian peninsula. Well schooled in these processes - this was the period, after all, when Machiavelli wrote his classic work The Prince - these early explorers took advantage of indigenous factional competition in their conquests. Native factions were pitted against each other wherever possible, and descriptions of this process survive in the ethnohistoric record. The ethnographic value of these accounts, long overlooked, has been increasingly recognized in recent years (DePratter 1983; Hudson et al 1985; Smith 1987; Hudson 1988, 1990; Anderson 1990a). Settlement hierarchies

Recent ethnohistoric research has led to the identification of specific communities visited by early explorers, permitting the use of early accounts in the archaeological reconstruction of life at these sites and in these societies. The primary accounts of the 1539-43 De Soto entrada 61

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\VuUatari Qui Otni

0

kilometers

)

Talimcco/ Cofltachequi

200

Route of de Soto, 1539-41 Route of de Luna, 1559-61 Route of Pardo, 1565-7

Sources: Hudson et al. 1985: 723, 725; Hudson et al. 1984: 69; DcPrattcr ct al. 1983: 133)

Fig. 6.1

European exploration and native societies in the South Appalachian area during the sixteenth century.

Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms

(in chronological order: Ranjel, 1539^41; Biedma, 1544; Elvas, 1557; Vega, 1605) provide fairly detailed descriptions of the chiefdoms the Spaniards encountered, and some of these societies were later revisited by the De Luna (1560-1) and Pardo (1566-8) expeditions. Three geographically extensive, complex chiefdoms are described in the South Appalachian area at the time of initial European contact, the province of Coosa centered in northwest Georgia, the province of Ocute and a series of lesser chiefdoms in central Georgia, and the province of Cofitachequi centered in central South Carolina (Fig. 6.1) (Hudson et al 1985; Hally et al 1990). The early sources provide a number of specific details about the operation of settlement and organizational hierarchies. Large numbers of towns were tied together in the more complex, areally extensive politics, which were characterized by at least two administrative/ decision-making levels occupied by primary chiefs and their retinues and lesser chiefs and their retinues. Commoners had little power or influence in these societies. A three-level settlement hierarchy consisting of major ceremonial and political centers, larger villages/small centers, and scattered small hamlets or villages is documented for Coosa and indicated for Cofitachequi in the De Soto and Pardo accounts. Evidence from the De Soto accounts about Ocute is more ambiguous, but a twolevel settlement hierarchy is suggested, consisting of hamlets scattered between larger centers (Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11, 89-90), which matches the pattern observed archaeologically (Kowalewski and Hatch 1991). The most complex southeastern polities were geographically extensive, covering thousands of square kilometers, with subsidiary towns and polities held together through alliance networks and the use or threat of force. The De Soto entrada provides a direct record of the extent and power of these chiefdoms, and the degree to which these leaders were obeyed, facts which the expedition was quick to exploit. Upon leaving the principal towns of both Cofitachequi and Coosa, for example, De Soto forced the principal chiefs to accompany him. The Gentleman of Elvas' account noted that, by taking the Lady of Cofitachequi, De Soto: brought us service in all the places that were passed, she ordering the Indians to come and take the loads from town to town. We traveled through her territories a hundred leagues, in which, according to whatever we saw, she was greatly obeyed, whatsoever she ordered being performed with diligence and efficacy. (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 70)

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The complex chiefdoms of the early contact-era Southeast were thus composed of a number of subsidiary chiefdoms linked together in alliance, conquest, or tributary relations (DePratter 1983:21-2; Hudson et al 1985). The Pardo expedition documents are particularly valuable sources on the nature of power relationships within and between chiefdoms in the South Appalachian area. The existence of an elite social stratum was apparent to Pardo: at the said Canos [Cofitachequi] ... I found a great number of chiefs and Indians ... From there I left for Tagaya, where I brought together the Indians and chiefs ... I went to Tagaya the Lesser and had all the Indians and the chief brought together ... From there I went to Ysa, who is a great chief; there I found many chiefs and a great quantity of Indians ... From there I went to an outlying district of the said Ysa, and brought together the Indians. (Pardo 1567 in Ketchem 1954:70-2) The number of chiefs or elite varied considerably from community to community, and in at least some cases the number of chiefs present indicated the size and importance of the community (Anderson 1900a: 115-18; Hudson 1990:61-7). The elite supported and reinforced the status of the chief. They ruled in outlying communities, and served as something of a privy council as necessary. Decisions were typically made by the chief, although often after discussion with his principal supporters (Elvas, in Bourne 1904: I, 75; Laudonniere, in Bennett 1975:14). While the power of a chief might have been considerable, the stability and permanence of the position ultimately depended upon public acceptance of this power, particularly the support of other elites. Membership in the elite was at least partially due to inherited social position, although ability was sometimes recognized. The elite sometimes lived in close physical proximity to the chief, as evidenced by statements such as that by Le Moyne (1875:12), referring to Indians on the south Atlantic coast, who noted that "the chief's dwelling stands in the middle of the town ... Around this are the houses of the principal men." By serving as litter, awning, or fan bearers, as documented by De Soto at Cofitachequi, Coosa, and Tasculuza (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 65, 81, 101), the noble class demonstrated their subservience to the chief, and at the same time their close proximity both physically and socially. From this elite could come possible successors to the chieftainship, through legitimate succession or through conquest or rebellion.

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The chief's residence was often set apart from the homes of commoners and sometimes served as a combination house, elite council room, and temple. The accounts contain explicit references to mound building and use. Thus, the dwelling of Tasculuza was described as "on a high place" (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 87), while Biedma noted that "it is the custom of the Caciques to have near their house a high hill, made by hand, some having the house placed thereon" (Biedma, in Bourne 1904:11, 28). The temple of Talimeco at Cofitachequi is described as a "house of worship ... on a high mound and much revered" (Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11, 101). The chief was also set apart in death, and extensive mortuary rituals frequently accompanied his or her death. Among coastal groups this included the burning of his house (Laudonniere, in Bennett 1975:14-15). The bodies of the dead in many of the more complex southeastern chiefdoms were maintained in elaborate mortuary structures, of which the temple of Talimeco in Cofitachequi visited by De Soto has provided the fullest description (Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:315-22; see also Biedma, in Bourne 1904:11, 14). Tributary networks Tributary arrangements within southeastern chiefdoms are particularly well documented in the early historic accounts (DePratter 1983:170-8). Within the major provincial-level polities, for example, lesser towns, leaders, and individuals submitted tribute to those above them in the hierarchy. Tribute thus served to help define and formalize social relationships in these societies, particularly those concerned with status positions, alliances, and trade. Tribute included foodstuffs and luxury goods, both of which were stored in large quantity: Maize is kept in [a] barbacoa, which is a house with wooden sides, like a room, raised aloft on four posts and has a floor of cane ... [around] the houses of the masters, or principal men ... are many barbacoas, in which they bring together the tribute their people give them of maize, skins of deer, and blankets of the country. (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 53). The early sources indicate that chiefs maintained barbacoas filled with food in outlying settlements, and could call on these stores when they wished. When De Soto's army arrived in Ylasi, a town some three days to the northeast of Cofitachequi, they found "seven barbacoas of corn, that they said were there stored for the woman chief" (Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11, 100). Food reserves in storage in many of the southeastern societies encountered by De Soto were extensive. Thus De Soto's

entire army of 600 men was able to spend the winters of 1539 and 1540 at Apalachee and Coosa, respectively, drawing on the food reserves of those complex chiefdoms. Numerous examples exist in the De Soto accounts, and in other sources from the sixteenth century, of the chief's ability to call upon stores located in other towns. Tribute served to acknowledge power relations among elites within and between chiefdoms in the Southeast. DePratter (1983:176) cites a number of descriptions of tribute collection by subject chiefs in outlying communities for the use of the paramount. Luxury goods such as bark blankets, deer and marten skins, and other valuables constituted tribute between elites, and are commonly mentioned as the type of goods used to seal alliances or acknowledge power relationships. Bulk foodstuffs, in contrast, do not appear to have moved over great distances or served a similar role (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 65, 91, 129; Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11, 86, 99). Withholding tribute was considered an act of rebellion and could trigger punitive expeditions and warfare, and one account notes that seizing tribute was a capital offense (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 70, 101, 154). Gift-giving was an important form of competitive display, a means of acknowledging tributary and power relations. Throughout the entrada De Soto was welcomed by native chiefs offering gifts of blankets, deer and marten skins, and other valuables, in addition to food and housing (e.g., Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11, 86, 99; Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 65, 91, 129). These were precisely the items accounted as tribute by the natives themselves, and it is probable that the gifts were an attempt to placate an unknown and potentially dangerous enemy, while simultaneously attempting to enter into a reciprocal alliance relationship with him. The act of presenting tribute, therefore, was an acknowledgment of power and a statement of relationship. The giving of gifts was not merely one way, from subject to ruler, but was also a method by which the paramount could demonstrate his own power and prestige. Thus, the chiefs of Pacaha and Casqui in northeast Arkansas, whom De Soto met the third year of the entrada, were "each striving to outdo the other in the magnitude of [their] gifts" to De Soto (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 129), although in this case each hoped to use the favor they gained with De Soto to the other's disadvantage. While foodstuffs were apparently typically dispersed to storage facilities scattered throughout the chiefdom, luxury or prestige goods tended to be maintained in the temples in the central towns of these societies (DePratter 1983:138). This suggests that while prestige goods distri-

Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms

bution was limited to the elite, food products may have been more widely redistributed, to elites and commoners alike, or at least held in reserve to accommodate periods of crop failure or harvest shortfall. The centralized control of wealth by the elite was closely linked to their maintenance of power. The distribution of luxury goods and captives to followers is well documented, and appears to have been a successful method of maintaining supporters among the lower ranks (Laudonniere, in Bennett 1975:150). Disruptions in prestige goods exchange or distribution networks could thus have had a profound impact on patterns of elite competition, and a decline of elite goods in circulation might signal organizational instability and shifting power relationships within a chiefdom or a region (Peebles and Kus 1977). Patterns of factional competition

Factional competition within local Mississippian societies is described in some detail in the accounts of the De Soto expedition of 1539^43, the first European penetration of the interior Southeast, and arguably the only undistorted picture of these chiefdoms prior to their disintegration: almost all the provinces that these Spaniards traversed were at war with each other ... One should know that this was not a conflict of force with an organized army or with pitched battles, except in rare instances, or a conflict instigated by the lust and ambition of some lords to seize the estates of others. Their struggle was one of ambushes and subtlety in which they attacked each other on fishing or hunting trips or in their fields and along their roads wherever they could find an enemy off guard. And those whom they seized on such occasions, they held as slaves, some in perpetual bondage with one foot maimed, as we have seen in certain provinces, and some as prisoners to be ransomed and exchanged. But the hostility among these Indians amounted to no more than the harm they inflicted upon their persons with deaths, wounds, or shackles, for they made no attempt to seize estates. If sometimes the battle were more heated, they went so far as to burn towns and devastate fields, but as soon as the conquerors had inflicted the desired damage, they gathered in their own lands without attempting to take possession of the lands of others ... This warfare, they now look upon as the natural order of things and, as a result, regardless of where they are found, are always provided with arms, for in no place are they secure from enemies ... a cacique [chief] does not carry on

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warfare with just one of his neighbors, but with all who share his boundaries ... (Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:487-8) While this statement is exaggerated - alliances were possible ensuring relative peace within fairly large areas - the accounts do indicate considerable competition and conflict was occurring between elites. A pattern of continual warfare and hostility would promote group solidarity by promoting a concern for mutual self-interest and defense. It would also reinforce the position of the elite since, given the possibility of hostile reception elsewhere, commoner populations would have to stay in their place. Evidence for intense warfare during the Mississippian period has been documented archaeologically by the discovery of fortifications such as palisades, bastions, and ditches at many sites (Larson 1972:384-8; DePratter 1983:48-9). Somewhat more indirect evidence for warfare has also been recovered, such as evidence of burning or of skeletal trauma (e.g. Larson 1972:390; Blakeley 1988; Milner, Anderson, and Smith 1991). Factional competition between elites in nearby polities is well documented in the sixteenth-century ethnohistoric record. The long-term rivalry between the elites of the chiefdoms of Pacaha and Casqui in northeast Arkansas was described in detail in the accounts of the De Soto entrada. It was evident that Pacaha was expanding at the expense of Casqui: For many centuries back this Cacique [Casqui] and his parents, grandparents, and more remote ancestors had waged war upon the lords of [Pacaha], a province bordering on their own. And since these lords were more powerful in both vassals and land, they had pushed and were still pushing [Casqui] into a corner and almost to the point of surrender, for he dared not take up arms lest he anger and irritate the Cacique [Pacaha], who as a more powerful person could and might do him harm. Hence [Casqui] had remained passive and had contented himself with guarding his boundaries, neither going beyond them nor affording his enemies an occasion to attack ... (Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:434-5) The hostilities between Casqui and Pacaha, while ostensibly brought about by Pacaha's territorial expansion, were explicitly couched in terms of a jockeying for status and prestige (pp.434—8). Casqui's desecration of Pacaha's ancestral sepulchres, his wives, and his subjects, and his later insistence on a place of honor by De Soto when meeting with Pacaha, were all tactics

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designed to reinforce his status relative to the other sidiary polity in the Coosa province twenty years earlier (Casqui was able to accomplish these victories against when De Soto came through, had taken advantage of the his more powerful neighbor by enlisting the aid of De weakened state of the paramount following European Soto). contact to break away. The process of the decline of The same pattern of interpolity elite competition is Coosa at the expense of its rival, Napochies, is outlined also noted in the South Appalachian region, where the in the De Luna accounts, offering valuable information provinces of Ocute in central Georgia and Cofitachequi about the process of factional competition: in central South Carolina were expanding at the expense In ancient times the Napochies were tributaries of the of chiefdoms in between, in the Savannah River valley Coza people, because this place (Coza) was always (DePratter 1989:140-3; Anderson 1990a:623-30). The recognized as head of the kingdom and its lord was long-term effects of this kind of expansion could result in considered to stand above the one of the Napochies. the death or relocation of the losing populations, or their Then the people from Coza began to decrease while subjugation into tributary relationships. De Soto was the Napochies were increasing until they refused to be told that the conflict existing between the provinces of their vassals, finding themselves strong enough to Ocute and Cofitachequi had existed from time immemomaintain their liberty which they abused. Then those rial, with no apparent contact between the elites of these of Coza took to arms to reduce the rebels to their polities. The Indians of Ocute were reportedly intimiformer servitude, but the most victories were on the dated and "dared not expand or go beyond their own side of the Napochies. Those from Coza remained boundaries" (Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:284). greatly affronted as well from seeing their ancient Apparently nothing was said to De Soto about the tribute broken off, as because they found themselves Savannah River chiefdoms that had existed between without strength to restore it. On that account they these two polities only a century or so before. had lately stopped their fights ... [and] had not gone Sometimes rivalries between polities were for the into the battlefield, for fear lest they return vanloyalties of elites in subject communities. A good quished, as before. (Padilla cited in Swanton example of this was documented during the De Soto 1922:231-9) entrada, when the expedition reached the town of Talisi at the western margin of Coosa: The Spanish were enlisted on the side of Coosa and quickly defeated the Napochies. This apparently Now the people of Talisi were not very obedient to strengthened Coosa, for by the time of the Pardo expedithe lord Coza because of the double dealing of tions in 1566 and 1567 it was again reported to be a another lord called Tasculuza, whose state bordered powerful chiefdom. The example illustrates one upon that of Coza, and who was both an unsafe mechanism by which chiefly authority might be chalneighbor and an untrustworthy friend. It is true that lenged by a rival faction, specifically the withholding of the two Caciques did not wage open warfare, but tribute (although the Napochies were also actively Tasculuza was an arrogant and bellicose person who killing Coosas). This would only occur as part of a bid displayed much artfulness and trickery ... and, being for local autonomy, since war was the likely outcome of such a person, had disquieted this town so that it was such a refusal. Warfare as a mechanism for establishing somewhat rebellious. (Vega, in Varner and Varner and enforcing tributary relationships is well documented 1951:346) in the sixteenth century Southeast (DePratter 1983:44Communities near the boundaries of a chiefdom, given 67; Anderson 1990a: 150-7; Dye 1990). Competition their distance from the center, probably enjoyed con- between rival factions within a complex chiefdom could, siderable autonomy. The activities of rival factions in therefore, lead to social fissioning and organizational these communities would, accordingly, have been diffi- collapse or relocation unless alliances (of a coercive or cooperative nature) could be developed between the cult for a paramount to address. Accounts of revolts by subsidiary elites within par- contending elites, to counteract this tendency. Political ticular societies also exist from the early Southeast. relations between chiefdoms in the Southeast were, When the De Luna expedition visited Coosa in 1560, for therefore, one way chiefs attempted to maintain control example, they were enlisted in a military expedition to over rival factions within these societies. exact restitution from the rival town of Napochies that The Napochies case illustrates how factional comhad refused to submit tribute (DePratter 1983:57-8, petition could have led to the replacement of one 173—4; Hudson 1988). The Napochies, apparently a sub- complex chiefdom by another. Population decline at a

Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms

paramount center brought about through reverses in warfare, famine, or emigration could lead to the loss of the numerical advantage in manpower (i.e. warriors) held by that community over its neighbors. As the relative strength of neighboring societies grew, the power and confidence of the elites in these societies would also grow, and challenges to leadership would arise. Refusal to submit tribute, actively hampering the formation of alliances by the paramount with other communities, or refusal to cooperate in communal ceremonial or construction activities were ways by which such a challenge could have been raised. Archaeological correlates of this process would include evidence for population decline at one or more centers, a change in the regional flow of luxury/prestige goods and evidence for the decline, destruction, or abandonment of one center at the same time that another in the area was expanding. In a classic example of elite competition, Marquardt (1988:179-84) has summarized accounts describing the succession of paramounts in the sixteenth-century Calusa chiefdom of south Florida. Accession to power was marked by severe social disruption, something brought on, at least in part, by recent European contact, the effects of disease, and the appearance of new sources of wealth. To ensure and legitimize the eventual succession of a particular candidate adoptions and marriages were arranged among allied factions, and these factions planned or encouraged incidents damaging to the authority of principal rivals. As Marquardt (p. 187) noted: "an ostensibly orderly, supernaturally sanctioned succession to the seat of power was in fact beset by rivalry, jealousy, and tension." Power was consolidated following one succession by the execution of some fifteen town chiefs suspected of treachery, which was in this case defined as a suspected allegiance to other leaders. One Spanish account, by the Jesuit Juan Rogel, described the chief of the Calusa as "dancing about with the heads of four chiefs whom he had been informed intended to rebel and go over to his enemies with their people. For this he had them slain" (Vargas Ugarte in Marquardt 1988:180). The Calusa example suggests that violence sometimes characterized competition for chiefly office, and that threats of rebellion could have been dealt with harshly. Ancestral shrines were perceived as the ideological centers of individual polities (Brown 1985:104). Desecration of a rival society's temple, specifically its ancestral burials, was considered an ultimate insult and a primary goal in warfare between elites. There are several examples from the accounts of the De Soto entrada supporting this inference. The description of the sacking

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of the principal town of Pacaha by Casqui is particularly graphic: Not content with having sacked the town and the houses of the Curaca and with having made what slaughter and seizures they could, the Casquins moved on to the temple in the large public plaza, which was the burial place of all who had ever ruled that land - the father, grandfathers, and other ancestors of [Pacaha]. The temples and sepulchres, as we have stated elsewhere, are the most venerated and esteemed sites among the natives of Florida ... Summoning all of their forces so that everyone might enjoy the triumph, the Casquins went to this temple and sepulchre, and since they realized how much [Pacaha] (proud and haughty because of their not having attacked previously) would resent their daring to enter and desecrate this place, not only proceeded within but committed every infamy and affront they could. Sacking it of all ornaments and riches, they took the spoils and trophies which had been made from the losses of their own ancestors. They threw to the floor each of the wooden chests which served as sepulchres, and for their own satisfaction and vengeance as well as for an affront to their enemies, strewed upon the ground the very bones and bodies the chests enclosed. Afterward not content with having cast these remains to the ground, they trod upon them and kicked them with utter contempt and scorn. (Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:437-8) This was not an isolated incident during the entrada. Desecration of ancestral remains occurred when the Indians of Ocute first reached Cofitachequi in South Carolina, and when the Guachoyas entered Anilco, probably in southern Arkansas (Hudson 1985; Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:292-3, 493). Undermining an elite faction's authority, by striking at a source and inspiration for its power, might be one way a rival faction could coopt or bring about the relocation of retinues or commoner labor forces. Permanent site abandonment might follow such desecration; the attached dishonor may have been such as to preclude any reuse, regardless of the extent of the facilities in place (although Pacaha himself set his temple back in order; Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:45, see also DePratter 1983:63). There is evidence from the accounts to support the inference that towns or centers might be abandoned upon desecration or defeat in warfare. The town of Vitachuco in Florida was destroyed by its inhabitants upon their defeat by De Soto. A Spanish troop,

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returning to the town some time after its warriors were routed in battle: discovered that the entire place had been laid waste and burned. Its walls had been leveled to the ground and all of the bodies of the Indians who had died ... were now piled up in the fields, for their people had resolved not to bury them. The town had been destroyed and abandoned, as the Indians later explained, because it had been founded in an unpropitious and doomed place; and the dead had been left without sepulchre to serve as food for birds and wild beasts because they were ill-starred men who had not succeeded in their purpose. For among the Indians this was a most infamous punishment, which, according to their pagan custom, was bestowed upon those who were unlucky and unsuccessful in war as well as those who were accursed and nefarious. In this manner, therefore, they had rewarded both the town and those who died there. (Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:198)

often fragile nature of the relationships between a paramount and the local and regional ruling elites in those chiefdoms. Succession to chiefly office

Internecine warfare, commonly over succession to the chieftainship, was rife in Southeastern society. The early Spanish accounts are filled with stories of rebellion, treachery, and warfare directed toward obtaining chiefly authority. The extent of factional competition while a chief was alive depended on the skill with which potential rivals were controlled. The death or weakening of a chief would frequently trigger a period of upheaval, which would continue until a successor could consolidate power. Chiefly succession appears to have been matrilineal in most Mississippian polities, that is, from a chief to his sister's son, or nephew (Figure 6.2) (DePratter 1983:10010). Direct evidence for this was observed by De Soto in the South Appalachian area. At Chiaha, for example, the

Equation of an ancestor cult with land ownership/ holding is fairly common among more complex societies, hence the desecration of an ancestral shrine is a challenge not only to a chief's authority per se but also GENERATION IDEALIZED KINSHIP specifically to his right to hold or control territory. The fact that centers, once abandoned or desecrated, might not be reoccupied may help to explain why major Mississippian sites such as Cahokia were permanently abandoned well before contact. The maintenance of temple/mortuary complexes would ideologically predispose an elite succeeding to the chiefdomship to remain near his home community. Where succession was interrupted, specifically when a rival seized power, this same ideological predisposition could prompt the relocation of the center to the community where the new chief's ancestral temple/mortuary complex was located. Newly ascendant Mississippian elites were thus ideologically bound to their place of origin, where their ancestors were buried. Relocation to previously dominant centers where elaborate ceremonial facilities were already in place does not appear to have occurred invariably or even typically. The effects of factional competition may thus be seen in the movement of chiefly political centers over the Female Male Chief's sister Chief landscape, typified in the archaeological record by the abandonment of sites and areas, often with evidence of destruction. The Mississippian archaeological record from across the Southeast is filled with cases where chiefdoms emerged, expanded, fragmented, and then Fig. 6.2 Matrilineal succession to the chieftainship in sometimes re-emerged, highlighting the dependent and Mississippian society.

O

A

Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms

young cacique noted that "an uncle of mine governs this country, in my place, til I be of mature age" (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 76), while at Cofaqui, where the chief was an old man, "his nephew governed for him" (Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11, 91). While succession was theoretically based on kinship, and typically was matrilineal, it was rarely secure. There is a considerable body of evidence from the historic accounts as well as supporting ethnographic data from other parts of the world to indicate that chiefly succession was frequently challenged (Anderson 1990a:50-7, 131-42). Strict adherence to rules of succession was unlikely where obvious differences in power bases or ability existed between the designated heir and rival elites. Lawson, although referring to events at a much later date, around AD 1700, noted that violence sometimes accompanied chiefly succession:

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construction of new mound stages. This is indicated among the Natchez, although the account dates to the early eighteenth century: "When the great chief dies they demolish his cabin and then raise a new mound, on which they build the cabin of him who is to replace him in this dignity, for he never lodges in that of his predecessor" (Le Petit, cited in Swanton 1911:103). Descriptions of burials of chiefly elites in mounds also exist about this time from the Chitmacha of the Mississippian delta area and among the Choctaw; in the latter case communal charnel houses were apparently covered with earth when full, and a new charnel house was then built on that location and the process repeated (Swanton 1946:726, 729). The archaeological record can be expected to vary depending on the course factional competition took. The assassination of a chief and his replacement by a close relative, particularly one from the same commuThe succession falls not to the king's son, but to his nity, would be unlikely to leave major traces, although sister's son, which is a sure way to prevent imposters the construction of a new mound stage or temple might in the succession. Sometimes they poison the heir to take place. Such a process would probably occur fairly make way for another, which is not seldom done, abruptly, and would be unlikely to be preceded by a when they do not approve of the youth that is to period of overt public competition (i.e., entertaining succeed them. The king himself is commonly chief and feasting, gift-giving, and the formation of marriage Dr. in that cure. (Lawson 1967:205) alliances) directed toward building a powerbase, since The chief himself, or other principal elites close to him, the usurpers, as tolerated and possibly trusted might do away with potential heirs that did not meet members of the paramount's community, would already be close in status and position (as well as expected leadership standards. While genealogical ranking was unquestionably physically close) to the leader they planned to depose. important in succession, so too was secular power, as Competition between individuals or elites in a number illustrated in an exchange recorded between the rival of differing centers, such as between subsidiary or tributary polities of a complex chiefdom, in contrast, chiefs of Pacaha and Casquin: would probably initially center around prestige goods there was much contention, as to which of them production and consumption rituals. Where strong facwould sit on the right hand of the Governor [De tions were dispersed over a number of centers comSoto]. Pacaha said to Casquin: "You know well that I petition was probably more intense, as elites jockeyed am a greater lord than you, and of more honorable for power, and would tend to leave more pronounced parents and grandparents, and that to me belongs a archaeological signatures. higher place." Casquin replied as follows: "True it is that you are a greater lord than I, and that your Marriage and post-marital residence forebears were greater than mine ... But you know Mechanisms dictating permissible marriage ties together well that I am older and mightier than you, and that I with post-marital residence patterns also have a marked confine you in your walls whenever I wish." (Ranjel, effect on the incidence of factional competition. Postin Bourne 1904:11, 143-4) marital residence in the Southeast was typically matriloThe size and stability of elite power bases, as well as cal, although most of the cases for which good data exist genealogical position, were important considerations date to well after contact. Accordingly, men would relocate to their wives' communities upon marriage. To when power passed from one leader to another. Resolving archaeological evidence for the succession reduce the influence of males marrying women in the of elites is difficult, because of the short time scales chief's lineage, and hence relocating in close physical involved, although there is support for the inference that proximity to the center of power, specific rules were in the death of a chief may have been marked by the place in some chiefdoms to suppress any political

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ambitions these individuals might have. Thus, among the Natchez: The princesses of the blood never espouse any but men of obscure family, and they have but one husband, but they have the right of dismissing him whenever it pleases them, and of choosing another among those of the nation, provided he has not made any other alliance among them. If the husband has been guilty of an infidelity, the princess may have his head cut off in an instant; but she is not herself subject to the same law, for she may have as many lovers as she pleases without the husband having any power to complain. In the presence of his wife he acts with the most profound respect, never eats with her, and salutes her with howls as is done by her servants. (Le Petit in Swanton 1911:1903) The marriage of the chief's sister to an "obscure" commoner, and keeping of him in a subservient position, was one way to minimize factional conflict. Strict adherence to a pattern of matrilocal residence would mean that chiefly heirs might be required to marry outside their local community. This would dramatically reduce the possibility of chiefly succession continuing within a given center, unless rules granting exceptions were in place. This appears to have been the case. Commoners in most Southeastern chiefdoms were typically monogamous and matrilocal, while elites were typically polygynous, with spouses either relocating or remaining in their own home (Swanton 1946:701-9). Among the Natchez, men could: have as many wives as they chose. Nevertheless, the common people generally have but one or two. This, however, is not the case with the chiefs ... Although they have many wives, they keep but one or two in their cabins; the rest remain at the houses of their parents, where they go to see them when they wish. (Le Petit cited in Swanton 1911:97) Chiefly elites thus appear to have been exempt from matrilocal post-marital residence rules. Polygyny and other marriage arrangements were important mechanisms by which status and power relations were acknowledged, alliances were sealed, and administrative structures filled in Southeastern chiefdoms. Although ethnohistoric accounts indicate that polygyny and the out-marriage of high-status females occurred among elites, how these rules were followed apparently depended upon the relative status of the participants. Given the importance of the chief's sister in producing his successor, and the presence of mechanisms

such as commoner marriage to keep her from falling under the control of rival elites, alliances by marriage in dominant Southeastern chiefdoms were probably sealed through the position of the chief rather than through his sister. That is, elite female outmarriage in complex Mississippian chiefdoms below the level of the ruling lineage was probably unidirectional, from lesser to more dominant elites. While the highest female elites had to marry commoners, lesser female elites, particularly those from other communities, could have married upward. Marriage elites of roughly equal status may have occurred to foster alliances. In subservient communities or polities alliance with higher centers may well have been sealed through the female line, with either the relocation of women to the chiefly center, or the marriage of one of the chief's relatives or supporters to a female elite in the outlying community. A problem with matrilocal post-marital residence systems is that they tend to create groups of males with no vested interest in working together within individual communities. That is, males linked by proximity rather than kinship tend not to cooperate with one another. In a society with matrilineal descent and matrilocal postmarital residence this has advantages and disadvantages for a chief. His core male kinsmen tend to outmarry, reducing his primary support base, while males marrying in may raise challenges to this position. Adherence to a pattern of matrilocal post-marital residence (except for the chief) would, however, be an effective method by which a chief could disperse brothers or other close male relatives, thus building up a regional power base while minimizing the potential threats that arise from their close proximity (Figure 6.3). There is evidence that vassal chiefs administering outlying centers were often the direct kin of the paramount, and probably appointed by him (DePratter 1983:25-8). Thus, Satouriona, a paramount occupying the region of the St. John's River in Florida, was described by Laudonniere as having "thirty vassal chiefs under him, of whom ten were his brothers" (Laudonniere, in Bennett 1975:76), and comparable situations were encountered by De Soto. While this practice would place potential rivals in their own powerbase, it would also isolate them from other related elites (and hence potential supporters) in secondary centers, where they would not have the resources that the paramount could draw upon. A strategy of dispersing near-kin through marital alliances, while initially stabilizing, would create problems later on, as these elites built up their own power bases, and as questions arose about how their successors would be chosen (Fig. 6.4). A critical question would be

Political evolution of Mississippian chief doms

71

Ruling matriline

Paramount center

/

\

Secondary center

PC = Paramount chief SC = Secondary chief / = deceased

Fig. 6.3 Dispersal of chiefly elites in Southeastern Mississippian chief doms: use of matrilocal post-marital residence to relocate potential rivals while building a power base. whether the children of relocated elites (in the matriline they married into) would succeed to power in these centers, or whether new elites/administrators would be imposed from above, from the paramount center. Thus, matrilineal succession coupled with matrilocal residence comprised a structurally ingrained, potentially destabilizing characteristic of Southeastern Mississippian society. Archaeological correlates of factional competition: considerations from the Southeastern United States Resolving correlates of factional competition and related historical factors that prompted sociocultural change in Mississippian society is a particularly exciting challenge facing Southeastern archaeologists. What we are attempting is the development of measures and linking arguments by which processes such as alliance formation and maintenance, elite legitimizing strategies, and political competition may be examined in prehistory. Such measures are critical to the study of socio-

political change in chiefdom societies. One procedure employed to measure factional competition involves examining changes in the production and distribution of elite goods. Brumfiel (1987a:667) has recently argued that elite consumption (i.e., prestige goods production, exchange, and use) "was the means by which status, power, and alliance were affirmed, contested, and changed" and that it served as "an idiom of political negotiation." It has been variously suggested that the volume of elite goods in circulation, and their quality (measured in terms of the labor investment in their production), may reflect the overall health or political stability of a chiefdom (Peebles and Kus 1977; Welch 1991). Marked changes in prestige goods flow, in this view, might signal changes in organizational stability and complexity. That is, when leadership positions were stable, elite goods production and distribution would also likely be stable. Leaders in trouble, in contrast, might step up the flow of goods, increasing the kind of activity designed to reinforce and legitimize their position. If attempts to re-establish a power base proved

David G. Anderson

72

Paramount center

Secondary center

AA

/

\

Ruling matriline 1

A

o == A s c

i

i

^~~

pc

II

ASCi O == ASCP A /^^-_ \ \ / ?

PC

i A A

Secondary center

i 0 == A !

O

=

1

'

A

1 1 A SCA

SC

A

'

II

A

A8?1 O ^-—^ \

?

r =

A SCP

1 A

/

PC = Paramount chief SC = Secondary chief SQ = Secondary chief (succession remains internal) SCP = Secondary chief (imposed from paramount chief) ? = Nature of succession unknown

Fig. 6.4 Dispersal of chiefly elites in Southeastern Mississippian chiefdoms: sources of instability in later generations. unsuccessful a decline in theflowof prestige goods might soon follow, since the elites would no longer control the resources (i.e., labor surplus) necessary to maintain the flow. A decline in the flow of prestige goods within and between chiefdoms may not always mean these systems were in trouble, however. Instead, it might mean they were becoming increasingly powerful and centralized. In systems with strong authority structures, particularly those based on secular power (i.e. coercion) rather than ideologically based legitimizing strategies, less effort may have been required to keep followers subordinate. That is, loyalty could have been maintained by force rather than purchased or co-opted. Archaeological examples from the Southeast illustrate these processes. A decline in elite goods, as reflected in mortuary offerings, for example, has been observed prior to the abandonment of several centers in the region, notably at Moundville, Spiro, and in several small chiefdoms along the Savannah River (Fig. 6.5); at Moundville and at several of the Savannah River sites, moreover, this

decrease occurred well before the collapse of these societies, when they were still presumably in their prime (Anderson 1990a:593-6; Steponaitis 1991:208-20). At Cahokia elite goods exchange even increased for a time as the chiefdom declined, in what has been interpreted as a futile attempt by the elite to maintain their position (Milner 1990:31). Another archaeological correlate of factional competition appears to be the amount of labor invested in the production of elite artifacts themselves. Competition between rival factions among elites is widely recognized as a primary, ingrained factor contributing to the instability of chiefdom political systems (Sahlins 1958:176— 96; Helms 1979:24; Wright 1984). As competition between factions increased, the complexity of design and the quality of prestige goods sometimes increased (e.g., Feinman 1980; Brumfiel 1987a). Measuring levels of competition through analyses of elite goods occurrence and quality, however, is difficult in the Southeast given the nature of the surviving archaeological record. Contact period ceramic assemblages in many areas

Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms known to have been dynamic chiefdoms often seem fairly drab, suggesting prestige-based elite display and exchange was in other, more perishable commodities. This is indicated in the ethnohistoric accounts, which repeatedly describe the gifts given to the Spanish explorers as consisting of perishables such as food, mulberry fiber and deerskin blankets, and fur and feather capes. Lists of locally valued commodities from this

0

miles 0

kilometers

73

period, such as the description of the contents of the mortuary temple at Talimeco, in fact, tend to be dominated by perishable items. Unfortunately for archaeologists the ceramics, carved shell, and ground-stone artifacts that dominate local assemblages of presumed elite goods are rarely mentioned in the historic accounts. Elaborate incised, engraved, or painted wares were present in some areas of the Southeast at various times

200 200

Mississippian archaeological sites Fall line

Fig. 6.5 Mississippian archaeological sites in the Southeastern United States (sixteenth-century and later polities in capitals).

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David G. Anderson

during the Mississippian period, however. When these wares were widespread, such as the regional distribution of Ramey Incised pottery from Cahokia, they sent a strong signal that intensive elite exchange and interaction was occurring (Milner 1990; Pauketat and Emerson 1991). The contrast these esoteric wares provide when compared with most Mississippian ceramics has prompted some discussion about the existence of "sacred" as opposed to "secular" ceramic assemblages (Sears 1973). The more elaborate ceramics usually occur in mortuary or ceremonial as opposed to domestic contexts, or in contexts indicating use by elites as opposed to commoners. Given the role food played as tribute and as a means of rewarding and hence retaining followers, food containers or dispensers (i.e., elaborate ceramics) could have played a role in elite consumption rituals. Food distribution may have been a form of factional competition centered on feasting and the public display of wealth. Analyses of seemingly mundane vessel assemblages have also revealed patterns that may be related to status signaling and elite consumption behavior. Shapiro (1985), for example, working with ceramics from the Dyar site in central Georgia, has shown that large storage jars tended to occur in disproportionate numbers in mound as opposed to village contexts, suggesting elite storage and control of commodities. Hally's (1986) work with ceramics from domestic contexts in several Georgia chiefdoms suggests that greater diversity in vessel form characterizes the more complex societies, which may in turn reflect greater local interest in consumption rituals. This inference could be tested through analyses of the location and context of these materials in site assemblages, particularly the kind and size of the structures they were found in or near, or the kinds of food remains found with them. Factional competition can also be examined using settlements as well as artifactual data. The emergence of complex chiefly centers in some areas clearly occurred at the expense of elite factions in other nearby villages or centers, which either underwent a reduction in size and importance or were abandoned outright. This pattern the occurrence of major episodes of moundbuilding and population increase at a primary center coupled with the reduction in the size and importance (measured in the incidence of elite grave goods) of nearby secondary villages and centers - has been documented at both Moundville and Cahokia (Steponaitis 1978:444-9; Peebles 1987:7-9; Milner 1990:28). Reducing the power and prestige of political rivals would greatly diminish the likelihood of successful challenges to chiefly authority.

In some cases, such as at Cahokia and Moundville, the emergence of a strong central community (and, hence, elites) is marked by the appearance of large numbers of small, widely scattered hamlets. Why such population dispersal occurred is not well understood. The most common explanation advanced sees it as reflecting population increase and the need to ensure the production of adequate food and other resources. Dispersing populations might reduce the stress on local resources such as firewood and game, while dispersing agricultural fields would have been an effective risk minimization strategy in a region where rainfall can vary from year to year and from location to location. Dispersing households might have been considered an effective defensive measure, since each residence could serve as something of a tripwire, capable of raising the hue and cry in the event of raids. Dispersing possible contenders to power, or at least their potential supporters, may have also helped reduce social tension and political challenges. Alternatively, the dispersal of commoner households might have been a stratagem of commoner resistance to elite rule. Speaking of the Natchez, Charlevoix noted "the savages, from whom the great chief has a right to take all they have, get as far from him as they can; and therefore many villages of this nation have been formed at some distance" (Charlevoix, in French 1851:159). The archaeological record of complex chiefdoms in the Southeast illustrates their fragility and, with few exceptions, their rather ephemeral nature. Hally (1987), in an examination of mound stage construction at twenty-four Mississippian ceremonial centers in northern Georgia, found that few were occupied longer than 100-150 years, and many were in use for much shorter intervals. In some areas where centers occurred, notably within the Oconee and Savannah River valleys of eastern Georgia (Williams and Shapiro 1987; Anderson 1990a), centers were occupied and abandoned with such frequency that the political landscape has been likened to a series of blinking Christmas tree lights (Mark Williams: pers. comm. 1992). Shifts in centers of power may have occurred for ecological reasons, such as firewood or soils depletion, but it is probable that many cases reflect changing power relations, as first one faction and then another within a chiefdom or group of chiefdoms gained ascendancy. The intensity of factional competition in various parts of the Southeast also appears to be related to physiography. Following arguments advanced by Blake and Clark (n.d.), social interaction is likely to be greatest in open, homogeneous, or otherwise unrestricted environments, and lowest in circumscribed, patchy, and restricted

Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms

environments. Paramounts should thus be able to exercise greater control over elites in subsidiary communities or polities when they are situated in fairly uniform or homogeneous landscapes, with few natural barriers to interaction. Such a situation may characterize developments within the American Bottoms (Milmer 1990). Less control over outlying populations, resulting in a greater likelihood of factional competition, would be likely in more irregular or patchy environments. Throughout most of the Southeast, Mississippian populations occur along widely separated linear river systems, a settlement distribution fostering local autonomy while hindering efficient information flow and the development of large polities. Information flow between communities in different river systems would have been difficult, restricting political development primarily to within individual drainages. The incidence of factional competition in the Southeast may have also been linked to the ability of potential rivals to access elite goods exchange networks. Where a paramount was able to maintain rigid control over elite goods, such control would likely stifle rivals and ensure the paramount's stability. Where access to exchange networks was easy or unrestricted, in contrast, rival factions might emerge fairly readily. The centers of many of the larger Southeastern chiefdoms, such as Etowah and Spiro, were located at or near major physiographic boundaries. This may have been part of a deliberate strategy by the ruling elite to control theflowof prestige goods from one region to another, rather than or in addition to taking advantage of the environmental diversity and natural productivity of these areas, the traditional explanations for the occurrence of centers in these settings. The location of centers at major communications and transportation nodes would undoubtedly have had a stifling effect on elites in centers displaced from these nodes. Factional competition in the late prehistoric southeast: evolutionary trends

Brumfiel (1987a) has recently shown how elite goods consumption varied in response to changing political conditions in the late prehispanic Valley of Mexico. Taking a similar stance, I argue that elite goods production, distribution, and consumption in the Southeast varied in response to changing patterns of regional political structure and inter-polity relations, as well as to changes in the mechanisms by which elites within individual chiefdoms maintained power. Such a view helps to explain a major change that occurs in the regional

75

archaeological record around AD 1350-1400, that demarcates the Middle to Late Mississippian transition. In the Southeast, elite goods production and interregional exchange seem to peak from about AD 12001300, at the height of the occurrence of the elaborate iconography and mortuary ceremonialism of the Southern Ceremonial Complex (SCC) (Muller 1989). Religious symbolism pervades the region at this time, and is expressed on a wide range of materials, including marine shell, copper, and pottery. This period and the centuries immediately prior to it saw the greatest monumental construction in the region, with extensive mound building and elaborate mortuary ritual documented at centers such as Cahokia, Etowah, Lake Jackson, Moundville, and Spiro. Alliance, exchange, and ritual/ceremonial networks were apparently operating throughout the region. The incidence of extra-local prestige markers, such as marine shell and copper, peaks at many sites, while elaborate ceramics such as Ramey Incised pottery from Cahokia and engraved pottery from Moundville are found over large areas, suggesting elaborate exchange relationships between the highest tier of elites. Warfare does not appear to have greatly constrained inter-polity elite interaction or intra-polity monumental construction. This pattern of elite goods exchange, monumental construction, and warfare changed dramatically in the Southeast after c. AD 1350-1400. Mound building diminished in many areas, while evidence for settlement nucleation and large-scale warfare increased markedly, the former apparently in response to the latter. Interregional elite goods exchange fell off, particularly the widespread exchange of icons and other elaborate artifacts characteristic of the SCC. While localized intrapolity exchange continued, the goods exchanged were for the most part local in origin. These trends have been documented in many areas of the Southeast, including in the American Bottom (Milner 1990:25, 31), in northeast Arkansas (Morse and Morse 1983:247-50, 255, 281-4), at Moundville (Peebles 1987:14-17; Steponaitis 1991:209; Welch 1991), and in northern Florida (Scarry 1990:183). The Late Mississippian has sometimes been referred to as a period of cultural decline because of this diminution in mound building and inter-regional exchange (e.g., Peebles 1986). While mound building continued to occur, far less energy was invested, and effort comparable to that noted earlier at Cahokia, Etowah, or Moundville is non-existent. Elaborate mortuary behavior like that found in Mound 72 at Cahokia, at Mound C at Etowah, or in the Craig Mound at Spiro, centers that

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were in marked decline or gone by AD 1400, is certainly not evident. Elite exchange continued, but the scale apparently shifted from the regional to the local level, with the flow of goods increasingly directed within rather than between polities. The purpose of this exchange appears to have been to develop and maintain the loyalty of subsidiary elites rather than to maintain alliances with the highest tier of elites across the region. The rise in warfare throughout the region may have made ties between polities difficult, and necessitated greater attention to defense (including maintaining the loyalty and support of followers, who would also be defenders) than to ceremonialism. This patterning may also be related to changes in the nature of authority structures within Mississippian societies. Elites' appeal to ideology to legitimize their right to power appears to have given way, over time, to more secular authority structures, employing greater overt use offeree (Anderson 1990b: 193). That is, over the course of the Mississippian, the strategy by which elites legitimized their privileged position and authority (including how they controlled rival factions), I believe, changed dramatically. During the Middle Mississippian, elite control was maintained, at least in part, by their participation in region-wide ceremonial and exchange networks, which emphasized their control over events and materials at great distances, over what Helms (1979) has called "esoteric knowledge." In the Late Mississippian, in contrast, as regional populations grew, competition and warfare rather than cooperation and exchange came to dominate inter-polity relationships. The cooperation of local rather than more distant allies increasingly came to be required to maintain social prerogatives, and goods exchange tended in this direction, to develop and maintain local alliances. While the inter-regional elite goods exchange network characteristic of the Middle Mississippian helped reinforce local authority, in part through direct or indirect appeals to sacred authority, the Late Mississippian pattern of localized exchange was directed toward maintaining more secular cooperative or coercive mechanisms. These changing regional patterns of warfare, elite goods exchange, settlement patterning, and political structure from the Middle to Late Mississippian should not be considered indicative of cultural decline, as is often suggested, but instead may reflect a natural, evolutionary trajectory that might have led, over time, to more

complex organizational structures. The complex chiefdoms encountered by the Spanish explorers penetrating the Southeast in the early sixteenth century were densely populated and geographically extensive, and were probably equal in scale to anything that came before. Where they apparently differed from the earlier chiefdoms was in how authority was maintained and utilized. Conclusions

Competition between elites for followers was the basis of chiefly power, and the source of factional competition in Southeastern Mississippian culture. Because power in these societies was kin-based, this limited its scope and effectiveness, and necessitated a continual effort on the part of the dominant elites to maintain and legitimize their authority. The fact that a chief's principal supporters were also typically his most likely successors and, hence, potentially his greatest rivals, meant that factional competition was universal in these societies. Factional competition, I believe, played an important role in the evolution of Mississippian culture in general, and in the rise and decline of individual societies. The long-term evolutionary effects of this process should not be overlooked, since they may help to explain how more complex social formations (i.e., states) may have come about. The end result of a pattern of repeated challenges to chiefly authority in an area where such authority was initially weak would likely be the emergence of everstronger institutions of social and political control. Intensive elite factional competition would thus, over time, select for ever-stronger leaders and increasingly secular authority structures. The broad changes in political organization that are observed over the course of the Mississippian period in the Southeast appear to be directly tied to this process. Acknowledgments The author would like to thank the following people for their advice and assistance in the preparation of this paper: Elizabeth Brumfiel, John E. Clark, Chester DePratter, Richard I. Ford, David J. Hally, Charles M. Hudson, Sergei Kan, Stephen A. Kowalewski, Kenneth E. Sassaman, Marvin T. Smith, and Henry T. Wright, and the anonymous Cambridge Press reviewers. Julie B. Smith prepared the graphics.

PART III

States

7 Ethnicity and political control in a complex society: the Tarascan state of prehispanic Mexico HELEN PERLSTEIN POLLARD

The interrelationship between ethnic units and a central political authority is known historically to have been crucial to the operation of complex societies. In the process of this interaction central authorities, particularly ruling elites, have created new ethnic groups, have altered the attributes which define ethnic identity, and have restructured relationships between ethnic groups (Enloe 1980:17ff.). Political authorities have two fundamental goals for the survival of their centralized power: (1) the economic exploitation of populations and resources, and (2) the protection of the integrity of the state frontiers. In achieving both these goals ethnic diversity can either facilitate or hinder elite action. Centralized authorities can assure maximal access to populations and resources when decision making flows from the top downward, according to principles established by dominant elites. Ethnic diversity often disrupts this flow, by interposing local or regional leaders, who acquire power not through their allegiance to central hierarchies, but through positions of ethnic status. Decision making may be undertaken to reflect the needs of local populations or local elites at the expense of the state. On the other hand, under conditions of rapid territorial expansion, when large populations and/or resources are being incorporated into a single political unit, the existing lines of authority, legitimacy, and social cohesion present in ethnically distinct populations may provide central authorities with an infrastructure of political and economic networks that can be tapped to the benefit of the state. In a similar manner, the maintenance of the state's territorial integrity demands populations willing to defend that territory, and not themselves act to foster rebellion against central auth-

ority. That can be achieved in at least two ways: the acceptance of state ideology and legitimacy, usually through the identification of individuals and groups as a single social group, i.e., common ethnicity; or the acceptance of common self-interest among ethnically diverse populations who see their imminent survival as dependent on subordination to a central authority. The second is often found on active military frontiers or among refugee populations fleeing conquest. To the state such peoples can provide valuable service as warriors, messengers, spies, and long-distance traders, services that may outweigh the hazard of desertion. To a great extent our understanding of the evolution of complex societies is based on societies known primarily or exclusively through archaeology. One approach to studying the archaeology of ethnicity, that of ethnoarchaeology, has primarily concentrated on acephalous societies, attempting to test the regularities in relationships between isolable "cultures" and artifact distributions (e.g. Hodder 1979). A second major approach, modeling the spatial and functional distribution of prehistoric ethnic groups on the basis of ethnohistoric evidence, has the advantage of dealing directly with complex, ethnically plural societies. The primary disadvantage is its limitation to those societies knowable through both ethnohistoric and archaeological information. These societies, while representing only a small sample of complex societies which have ever evolved, nevertheless provide a basic resource for the identification of those ethnic processes of significance in societal evolution and their detection archaeologically. In the New World such an approach has been used in the Andes to evaluate the patterns of Inka expansion (Morris 1982; Rowe 1982; Wachtel 1982, among others) and to generate models of ethnic/ state interaction which can be applied to earlier periods (Schaedel 1978). The central defining feature of an ethnic group, selfidentification, and categorization by the governing elite, is clearly beyond the resources of archaeologically derived research. Nevertheless, because ethnicity is generally associated with high rates of endogamy, the sharing of clusters of beliefs and values, marked by the use of a common language, and is often territorially isolable, the discernment of ethnic variation is not impossible. As with all aspects of archaeological analysis, the introduction of ethnicity into the variables studied must be done with care. Ethnic boundaries are fluid, contracting or expanding with major political and economic shifts in the society at large. Ethnic identifications coexist with other social identifications, meaning 79

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that occupational and class boundaries, for example, may cross-cut ethnic groups. Different artifact classes, or properties of artifacts may signal these different social boundaries. Moreover, within a single multi-ethnic, complex society the intensity of ethnic affiliation may differ, and along with this the number and kinds of markers used by a group to signal ethnicity may vary. Finally, the archaeologist deals with units of time that often compress ethnic "maps" and obscure the processes of ethnic emergence and change. Just as complex societies vary in their basic structures and developmental trajectories, one must expect similar variation in the structure and significance of ethnicity. As part of the larger process of developing theories of the nature of complex societies, one goal should therefore be the development of models of ethnicity, based on various ethnohistorically knowable societies, and their judicious application to earlier polities. With this goal in mind, a model of the structure of ethnicity in the protohistoric Tarascan state of central Mexico (AD 14501520) is herein presented (Fig. 7.1). The Tarascan territorial state in its sixteenth-century form is renowned for its high degree of political centralization and relatively unchallenged control of its

territory (Gorenstein and Pollard 1983, Pollard 1993). When viewed from the perspective of the geopolitical core, the Lake Patzcuaro Basin, these characteristics can be related to the emergence, by the protohistoric period, of a social system with a fully Tarascan identity, produced by the conscious subordination and replacement of local ethnic/linguistic status as the basis for social or political power. Despite clear indications of earlier ethnic heterogeneity in central Michoacan (Relation de Michoacdn [1541] 1956), by the sixteenth century the population was self-identifying and being identified by others as solely Tarascan (Relation de Michoacdn [1541] 1956; Suma de Visitas de Pueblos [1547-50] 1905; Relaciones Geogrdficas [1579-81] 1987; Warren 1968, 1985, among others). Such subordination and replacement of ethnic variation distinguishes this system from the mainstream of protohistoric Mesoamerica, which was characterized by ethnic economic and political specialization and multiethnic social classes (Carrasco 1971; Zantwijk 1973). Along the Tarascan military frontier, however, the Tarascan polity was multi-ethnic, plural, and demographically largely non-Tarascan (Mendieta y Nunez 1940; Brand 1943; Gorenstein 1974, 1985; Herrejon Peredo 1978; Gonzalez Brespo 1979; Contreras Ramirez 1987). Taken together, these policies, the one emphasizing social homogeneity of the elite and a new common Tarascan identity, and the other emphasizing plurality and heterogeneity, appear to be in conflict. However, these two distinct policies of ethnic assimilation and ethnic segregation, dominated community interaction in geographically separate zones of the Tarascan polity. By 1520 they had resulted in the ethnic boundaries recorded in the early documents and mapped by Brand (1943; Fig. 7.2). Combining our knowledge of the ecological, economic, political, and artifactual variation within this territory we can propose the following model of the Tarascan state. Zone of assimilation

=

AZTEC

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This is the territory within which Tarascan was the dominant language and cultural identity was ethnic Tarascan. It included at least two distinct regions. Ethnic heartland

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migrated into the region during the Postclassic (AD 1000 and later) (Relacion de Michoacan [1541] 1956; Relaciones geogrdficas [1579-81] 1987; Brand 1943; Beltran 1982; Gorenstein and Pollard 1983). Each group was identified by the worship of specific deities, the performance of specific rituals, and the wearing of specific status markers (Relacion de Michoacan [1541] 1956). The political unification of this zone was accompanied by the emergence of Tarascan ethnicity, marked by the universal use of the Tarascan language and the incorporation of all previously autonomous, culturally distinct groups. Political incorporation, and the ideology of power that accompanied it, are seen as primary in creating the homogeneous Tarascan zone that is documented in the sixteenth century. This rapid assimilation in the Patzcuaro Basin from AD 1250 to 1400, and in the surrounding highlands from AD 1350 to 1440, was probably made possible by at least two factors: (1) the bulk of the heartland

82

Helen Perlstein Pollard

g. 7.5. Protohistoric Tarascan market and tribute regions. was probably of "proto-Tarascan" culture, and (2) the groups in question were not politically unified with a historical pattern of multi-ethnic complex society (Fig. 7.5) Zone of active assimilation This zone, absorbed into the expanding state only after 1440 (Pollard 1993), was increasingly basic to the maintenance of Tarascan elite society. While populations were relatively low in density and widely dispersed (Warren 1968; Gonzalez Crespo 1979), many resources basic to elite identification came from this zone, including tropical fruit, cacao, cotton, copal, jaguar skins, tropical feathers, gold, silver, copper, and tin (Pollard 1982; Gorenstein and Pollard 1983; Pollard 1987). In this region local populations began assimilating to Tarascan identity only after their conquest by heartland Tarascans. Tarascan had become the dominant language at the time of Spanish contact (Minas de Cobre [1553] in

Warren 1968; Relaciones Geograficas [1579-81] 1987; Ponce [1586] 1968; Brand 1943:51-2). The region represented an entrance of Tarascan identity into fundamentally different resource zones, dominated by temperate and tropical ecosystems. The degree of assimilation by 1520 clearly varied, and, as Brand found in the northern Tarascan zone, Tarascan ethnicity could vanish within decades of European control. Combining the data from the Guzman relaciones and other sixteenth century sources, it would appear that the Tarascans had managed through conquest, colonization, and acculturation to impose their language over a presumptive Teco area from Jacona-Zamora down the valley of the Duero and into the Teco state of Coinan and the Coca state of Cuitzeo. During the first half of the sixteenth century Cuitzeo was predominantly Tarascan in speech, and Tarascan was

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spoken to a considerable extent in Coinan. However, in the next one hundred years Coca and Teco reasserted themselves only to be supplanted by Spanish and Mexicano. (Brans 1943:57) Zone of ethnic segregation The zone includes both ethnic enclaves located within the zone of assimilation and those large territories along the military frontiers within which were a variety of ethnic groups. It is possible that there may have been ethnically distinct populations within the heartland which held specialized occupational roles. This kind of segregation was known in other parts of Mesoamerica, although the documentary sources do not specify this for the Tarascan domain.

Rather, ethnic enclaves within the zone of assimilation occupied distinct communities, primarily as political refugees. One group of such communities was occupied by Matlatzincas escaping Aztec domination of the Toluca Basin. They were settled in the Charo-Undameo zone and were referred to as pirindas (Relacion de Michoacdn [1541] 1956; Relaciones Geograficas [1579-81]

1987). This is a Tarascan term meaning "those in the middle," and referring to the physical placing of these settlements within the Tarascan heartland. These communities may have been established on patrimonial land belonging to the king or on land that was previously unsettled (as per AGN Hospital de Jesus, 1635, leg. 29, vol. 51, exp. 34 f. 55). According to Matlatzinca sources, thefleeinggroups included members of the Matlatzinca

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Tarascan ethnic!political structure.

Along the military frontiers ethnic enclaves often pronobility (settle at Charo), others of the lower nobility (settled at Undameo) and commoners (Quezada vided their tribute in the form of specialized military Ramirez 1972:51). Matlatzinca communities were also service (Relacion de Michoacdn [1541] 1956:14, 248; established in the tropical zone at Huetamo (Relaciones Relaciones Geogrdficas [1579-81] 1987; Brand 1943:54; Geogrdficas Cuseo [1579-81] 1987) and other Otomi Carrasco 1969:219). Many of the frontier centers and groups fleeing Aztec rule were settled in the Balsas fortified towns were multi-ethnic, and non-Tarascan in zone, perhaps near Huetamo (Relaciones Geogrdficas origin, including as many as four different ethnic groups in addition to small Tarascan communities sent to Necotlan and Taimeo [1579-81] 1987). Documentary sources suggest that in the case of colonize the center. Taximaroa is first referred to as an Matlatzinca in the Charo-Undameo zone, the communi- Otomi village (Relacion de Michoacdn [1541] 1956:154), ties were administered as a group, and headed by Charo and Tuzantla is known to have been Ocumo in Tarascan (Quezada Ramiez 1972:43; Warren 1985:283-5). As the (ucumu), which means Otomi (Warren, pers. comm. location of the highest ranked Matlatzinca nobility, the 1989, based upon the sixteenth-century Tulane dictionchoice of Charo as administrative center implies little ary, pt. II, f. 126v). These communities were adminTarascan "meddling" within the Matlatzinca society, and istered separately by ethnic group. Thus the Tarascan a retention of Matlatzinca defined status and authority. governor sent out to Acambaro was in charge of the

Ethnicity in the Tarascan state Tarascan community only (Relaciones Geogrdficas Celaya [1579-81] 1987). Local lords of each ethnic group were selected, with the approval of the Tarascan king, to administer their own communities. When they fought in Tarascan military campaigns they remained within their own military units, although serving under Tarascan leaders. These non-Tarascan ethnic groups spanned the political borders of the state. They were able to serve as buffers along active military lines and as cultural brokers between Tarascan and non-Tarascan communities.

85

political authority. Despite the existence of regional administrative centers, the Relation de Michoacdn indicates that local leaders in the zone of assimilation were directly appointed by the king, as in the heartland. Direct control of local decision making is corroborated in several colonial testimonies, as in the sending of a judge by the king to settle disputes within the community of Tetlaman, near Tepalcatepec (Carrasco 1969:219: see also Warren 1968, Relaciones Geogrdficas [1579-81] 1987). This direct penetration of local authority in regions far from the Patzcuaro Basin is understandable as both (1) the extension of a pattern historically successPolitical implications ful in the political core and adopted during the formative Within the heartland local leaders articulated with the phase of Tarascan political unification, and (2) the central administration directly (Caravajal Visitation primary mechanism of cultural assimilation. Local elites [1523^] in Warren 1985:Appendix A; Relation de gained prestige and power by identifying with the TarasMichoacdn [1541] 1956; Gilberti [1559] 1975; Lagunas can social structure. Local village leaders, angamecha in [1574] 1983). This region appears to have been under the Tarascan (caciques or senores in colonial documents), direct control of the political capital. All local leaders were people who wore lip plugs given them by the king were approved by the Tzintzuntzan elite, and they could (Lagunas [1574] 1983:22, 221), and who were thus elebe replaced, and their decisions over-ruled by the king. vated to noble status. By controlling access to local Their loyalty was assumed, and intervention in local political offices the core elite also controlled the local affairs was considered unusual {Relation de Michoacdn elite's access to power and prestige, now definable on [1541] 1956:201-2). Such loyalty to the Tarascan royal Tarascan terms. dynasty was repeatedly demonstrated during the early This flow of authority from the center to the village colonial period (Warren 1985). was suppprted by the fundamental system of land and Within the second zone, that of active assimilation, the resource ownership. All land titles within the Tarascan loyalty of these peoples to the core elite would have been domain were justified by having come from the king. best assured by a policy of gradual assimilation into the This even included agricultural lands, fishing rights, Tarascan social system and Tarascan ethnic identity. mineral resources and hunting territories (Beltran 1982; One mechanism of assimilation may have been the Carrasco 1986; Pollard 1987). By extending the Tarascan administrative centers of the frontier provinces. There political ideology throughout this zone, non-Tarascanwere four such centers, each administered by a high- based access to resources and social status became ranking member of the Tarascan elite. They served as illegitimate and over time would have become irrelevant. political centers for those settlements outside the direct A third policy fostering assimilation was the resettleadministrative control of Tzintzuntzan. The exact ment of Tarascans from the heartland into this zone. location of only one is known, Jacona (also spelled as Such resettlements are known to have occurred from Xacona) {Relation de Michoacdn [1541] 1956:195), Jacona to Jiquilpan, to Turecuato, and to Periban {Relaalthough I have placed on the map the settlements most ciones Geogrdficas [1579-81] 1987, Stanislawski 1947). often believed to have been the other three administra- Smaller resettlements are known to have been made tive centers. The precise location of the centers is less within the heartland and along the military borders, significant than the indication that all were located at the apparently to enlarge local populations in the face of limits of the ethnic heartland, on the earlier political active military threat (Stanislawski 1947). frontier, and helped administer the zone of active TarasGiven the economic and political bases for the can assimilation. The local presence of central Tarascan pressures of assimilation within this zone, there must administration must have fostered cultural interchange, have been great variability in the rate of cultural/linguisand perhaps also, cultural assimilation. If these adminis- tic assimilation. Zones of particular economic or politrative centers were also locations of markets, such inter- tical interest to the core would have had the greatest action would have been still greater. interaction with Tarascans, and may have been targeted A second mechanism of cultural assimilation in this for absorption. Thus, portions of the zone of assimilazone was the extension of the basic pattern of centralized tion near Jacona in the west, and Zinapecuaro in the

86

Helen Perlstein Pollard

east, two strategic military borders, had become heart- beliefs should be visible in design motifs, ceremonial land regions by 1520. Within the zone of active assimila- architecture and individual artifacts. On the basis of the tion, the retention of Tarascan as the primary native archaeological manifestations of elite culture at the Tarlanguage in the southeastern portion of Michoacan in ascan capital of Tzintzuntzan, and those mentioned or 1750 attests to the relatively high degree of assimilation illustrated in the Relation de Michoacan, it is possible to reached in this important metal-producing region specify the following items: (1) ear and lip plugs (Pollard 1987). (especially of green obsidian, often inlayed with turWithin the zone of ethnic segregation, along the mili- quoise or other imported material); (2) cotton garments tary borders, loyalty to the Tarascan elite was assured in (especially those embroidered with feathers, and with exchange for the security provided by the state military copper bells); (3) Tarascan polychrome pottery (often structure. Administrators were sent from the political with negative painting) in a variety of unusual forms core to articulate with the local population and insure (spouted vessels, loop- and basket-handled vessels, this loyalty. Nevertheless the populations were regarded miniature bowls, highly polished plates) with painted as subject allies, rather than subjects, and tribute motifs of double spirals, hatching, checkerboards, lines included war captives and slaves (Relaciones Geogrdficas of dots and bands on vessels slipped in red, cream, white, [1579-81] 1987). The inclusion of zones of segregation grey, and pink; (4) Tarascan ceramic pipe forms; and (5) within the state was highly desirable; the risk to the state state architecture associated with the Tarascan patron of losing their ultimate loyalty was balanced by the deity Curicaueri, better known as the key-hole-shaped benefits to the state of using these populations for mili- pyramids or ydcatas. These characteristics are documentary support, sacrificial victims, and economic brokers ted together in the forty-one burials which have been with neighboring societies. Carlos Herrejon Peredo excavated adjacent to the ydcatas at Tzintzuntzan and in (1978) has detailed the valuable role played by Matla- surveys of Tzintzuntzan, Ihuatzio, Zacapu, and other tzinca and Otomi communities, both along the eastern ethnohistorically known Tarascan centers (Rubin de la border and at enclaves at Charo-Undameo, in the Tara- Borbolla 1939, 1941; Moedano 1941; Gali 1946; Pollard scan repulsion of the 1476-7 Aztec military campaign. 1977; Castro-Leal 1986; Cabrera Castro 1987; Macias Such support brought harsh Aztec reprisals in the Goytia and Cuevas Garcia 1988). Other archaeologically Toluca valley itself, and resulted in additional refugees detectable characteristics may well prove valuable in the future. For example, the Relation de Michoacan depicts fleeing to Tarascan territory. clearly different house forms for the elite, larger, with With the demise of the autonomous Tarascan kingdom in the early sixteenth century, these poorly dressed stone foundations and painted wooden suparticulated zones separated. The rather "thin veneer" of ports. The single residence excavated at Tzintzuntzan Tarascan identity in the zone of active assimilation was (and not adjacent to the pyramids) may represent such a easily eroded as historical and ecological differences house (Cabrera Castro 1987). On a wider level the took precedence. The cohesive unit remained the funda- common ecological adaptation of these communities mental cultural and economic unit, the ethnic heartland. and the shared economic networks should be reflected in common sources for localized resources, such as obsidian, lime, and salt. On the other hand, the wide distriArchaeological implications bution of ceramic clays and the lack of (known) mass Tarascan archaeology has been dominated by the often production of plainwares and non-elite ceramics indifruitless search for a cultural identity synonymous with cates that while manufacturing techniques were widely the protohistoric state, as revealed by artifacts and struc- shared, specific ceramic types were not. tures. The model of ethnicity proposed here predicts that Within the zone of active Tarascan assimilation, the there will be no commonality of artifacts and architec- overriding factor is variation. At Huandacareo, a ture over the territory of the Tarascan state, both regional administrative center on the northern shore of because material culture often varies in ways unrelated Lake Cuitzeo, founded after the Tarascan conquest of to political control, and because different communities this zone, burial areas suggest the nature of interaction and regions articulated with the state in greatly differing between Tarascan elite, local elite, and local commoners ways. (Macias Goytia 1989). Within the public center there are The Tarascan heartland should be characterized by a elite burials in formal tombs with grave goods, especially common elite culture, represented by similar artifacts ceramics, that are identical to elite goods from Tzinand architecture defining elite status. Common religious tzuntzan. There is a second zone of mass burials of

Ethnicity in the Tarascan state sacrificial victims with Tarascan ritual goods. A last zone of shallow pit graves with predominantly local undecorated ceramics is believed by the excavator, Macias Goytia, to represent local non-Tarascans buried separately, but within the state-administered ceremonial center. While it is impossible to tell if the elite burials represent core Tarascans staffing the center or local elite assimilating to Tarascan ethnicity, the absence of a distinct burial zone for non-Tarascan elite suggests the latter. The existence of Tarascan elite polychrome ceramics has been documented at numerous settlements throughout this zone, sometimes associated with burials of individuals with ear and lip plugs adjacent to possible ydcatas (Noguera 1944; Moedano 1946; Gonzalez Crespo 1979; Maldonado 1980). Similarly there may have been a sharing of religious symbols, although these may simply be on the level of pan-Mesoamerican philosophy and beliefs. The ecological adaptations within this zone, being distinct from those of the heartland, suggest that basic differences in artifact inventory, settlement patterns, and economic patterns may have persisted despite ethnic/linguistic assimilation. Only the increasing integration within Tarascan marketing networks may reveal the assimilation process, unless the region was targeted for Tarascan exploitation. Thus, within the zone of copper production, groups of ethnic Tarascans were moved south to work in the mines of the Balsas, and smelters were sent to the major smelting centers (Pollard 1987). Here should be found clear evidence of ethnic Tarascan artifacts, architecture, and technology (especially that directly related to mining and smelting). The critical factor in this zone is the lack of significant time depth to the Tarascan association. However, the absence of outside administrators or a local elite within a community may mean the absence of any indications of elite culture and architecture, most easily recognizable indications of the protohistoric Tarascans. Thus even the political changes associated with Tarascan expansion will probably be difficult to discern in material culture. Within the zones of ethnic segregation, the archaeologist fares both better and worse. Here local or regional traditions would have persisted. This persistence has been archaeologically documented along the northeastern border in the form of continuity of ceramic types and house forms (particularly storage bins), and ceremonial architecture (Gorenstein 1985; Contreras Ramirez 1987). It is often difficult to discern when the zone of segregation has ended and the political border has been breached. On the positive side, there may be

87

non-local, heartland Tarascan artifacts and architecture associated with small numbers of elite stationed along the frontier. The presence of military fortifications in this zone is the best artifactual evidence of this ethnically diverse zone (Gorenstein 1985), as it was a policy to associate military frontiers with non-Tarascans. The lack of articulation of this zone with Tarascan local marketing networks, and the dominance of pre-existing networks may well mean that goods circulating within this zone in fact derive from sources not utilized in the rest of the territory. One of the ethnic enclaves located within the Tarascan core has been isolated solely through archaeological analysis. At the Tarascan capital, Tzintzuntzan, one locality of the city contained relatively large quantities of a clearly non-local ceramic ware. Research along the northeast border indicated this ware was the dominant form there during the protohistoric, probably of an Otomi-speaking group (Pollard 1977; Gorenstein 1985). The presence of this border population in the Tarascan capital suggests that future archaeological research will reveal a more complex pattern of ethnic relations than that suggested by this model. Ethnicity and the expanding state

The model of ethnic structure which has been proposed was the outcome of the twin Tarascan policies of ethnic assimilation and segregation. Within the central region, the protohistoric period population was characterized by a social system with a fully Tarascan identity. Along the frontiers, the state encompassed a multitude of distinct ethnic groups, with varying loyalty to the ruling dynasty. Between these two zones was a large territory in the process of becoming Tarascan. Its existence reflects the dynamic nature of the protohistoric period in western Mexico, and the rapid rate of cultural change. As a result, the borders of these zones can only be approximated, as they must have changed repeatedly. This ethnic strategy differed from that of the Tarascans' contemporary neighbors, the Aztecs, among whom ethnic diversity was woven into the basic economic and political fabric of society (Carrasco 1971b; Zantwijk 1973; Hassig 1984). Robert McC. Adams (1979:64) has suggested that an important reason for the absence of policies of cultural assimilation may have been the overwhelming demographic dominance of the core population over its peripheries. There is no Mexica ethnic heartland, but a zone of culturally similar populations sharing the Basin of Mexico, often sharing individual communities, for their mutual (if not equal)

Helen Perlstein Pollard

benefit. Traditional ethnic markers included language, dress and adornment, marriage patterns, deities and ritual, and even occupational specializations. Here ethnic boundaries were maintained, even cultivated, by the Mexica elite, although the markers and significance of the boundaries surely changed as Mexica power increased. Beyond the political core of the state, Mexica policy was largely one of indifference to ethnic distinction, with the result that conquered communities, regions, and states retained previous ethnic boundaries unaffected by Mexica administrative units or economic networks. In such circumstances the possibility of rebellion was countered by the ability of the core elite to field large armies of internal re-conquest. In the Tarascan case such demographic disparities were clearly influential in the early conquest of the Balsas and Tepalcatepec Basins. But the Cuitzeo Basin population, for example, could have easily raised armies to challenge Tzintzuntzan-based control effectively, had the region ever been politically united. Moreover the Aztec threat on the eastern Tarascan border, along with a militarily active western and northern border, spread heartland Tarascan warriors across a wide landscape, and limited their ability to field large armies within their territory at the same time. While Tarascan ethnic strategy may have been distinctive in sixteenth-century Mesoamerica, it exhibits many characteristics common in the structure of ethnicity of complex societies. The policy of assimilation, and its implementation by control over positions of power and prestige, is a fundamental component of the military strategies of many expanding states, including the Inka (Morris 1982; Rowe 1982; Wachtel 1982), the Roman (Salmon 1982), and the Assyrian (Larsen 1979), among others. One of the best-documented cases is that of the Romanization of central Italy (Salmon 1982). The spread of Roman ethnicity took more than 300 years to be achieved in central Italy, and was a product of specific policies of the expanding Roman state. A consistent feature of this process was the direct administration of peoples by Roman law and the severing of communities from their ethnic homelands. The high degree of political centralization found in such polities may be reinforced by an elite perception of the role of ethnicity as an integrating mechanism. In those cases, like the Tarascan, where the early expansion of the state involved the incorporation of societies less politically complex than itself, direct rule from the center was established. It is quite possible that cultural assimilation was at first an unintended consequence of centralized administration, only later recognized for the

benefits it provided the state. By promoting assimilation in the larger Tarascan territory, the elite of the geopolitical core could better insure the economic exploitation of this zone, uninterrupted by rebellions and retaliatory campaigns. This exploitation was increasingly necessary to feed the growing population of the Patzcuaro Basin and maintain the conspicuous consumption of the state (Pollard 1982, 1987). From this perspective, the ethnic strategy, whether or not recognized by the central dynasty as such, was an adaptive mechanism, increasing the stability of the Lake Patzcuaro Basin ecosystem. Ethnic segregation along military borders is also common, particularly the use of such populations in a military capacity. Enloe (1980:25-9) has termed this the "Ghurka Syndrome," characterized by the maintenance of ethnic boundaries in regions which are usually mountainous, along historic invasion routes, and geographically distinct. In the Tarascan case such groups served not only military functions, but also, I believe, economic ones as well. Tarascan long-distance merchants traveled to the borders of the state, including Taximaroa, to acquire elite-related scarce materials produced in other regions of Mesoamerica (Pollard 1982). Some of these exchanges may have been directly with Aztec merchants, but many were surely with Otomi or Matlatzinca traders operating within their traditional territory, now spanning a major political frontier. The existence of such trade is suggested by the appearance of Michoacan maize and chili in the Tlatelolco market, as recorded by Sahagun [1569] 1950-69, (Bk. 10, pp. 66-7). One pattern of expanding complex societies involves rapid territorial increase followed by periods of consolidation and absorption of the conquered territory. The political unit soon after conquest is multi-ethnic and heterogeneous and is often termed an empire (Larsen 1979). The assimilation that follows expands the center, absorbing increasing proportions of the periphery, until the resultant polity is best viewed as a territorial state. This appears to be the pattern followed in the evolution of the Tarascan state. In AD 1520 the Tarascan state was actively in the process of this internal assimilation, reflecting the strong geopolitical and economic motivations of expansion and the high degree of centralization of administrative functions which made such an ethnic strategy both desirable and practicable. Modern Tarascans who cling to their ethnic heritage, albeit in greatly modified form, are only the latest of a people who have long recognized the political consequences of ethnicity within complex societies.

8 Ethnic groups and political development in ancient Mexico ELIZABETH M. BRUMFIEL

Ethnicity can be defined as social identification based upon the presumption of shared history and common cultural inheritance. Such identities play a prominent role in political struggle in the modern world. Whether the object of struggle is securing resources in competition with other ethnic groups or resisting the dominance of an encroaching state, ethnic identity provides a powerful ideology for political mobilization. The ethnic groups engaged in these struggles often cut across class lines, containing both elites who provide group leadership and a mass of members drawn from lower classes. Thus, in the modern world, ethnicity is frequently bound up with factional competition and political change. Did ethnicity play an important role in political struggle before the emergence of the modern world? Early approaches to ethnicity suggested that it did not. From the mid-1930s to the mid-1960s, ethnic groups were regarded as primordial human groups, arising from cultural isolation and persisting by habit and custom. Competition between ethnic groups was regarded as a recent phenomenon, created during the process of modernization as diverse tribal groups were brought together in overarching states. Some observers expected ethnic conflict within these "plural societies" to be a temporary phenomenon; conflict was expected to disappear in the course of modernization as national institutions matured (e.g., Apter 1967). Others, more pessimistic, pointed to forces that would perpetuate ethnic identity and conflict: either the deep-seated, enduring character of ethnic loyalties (Geertz 1963) or the determination of colonial and neocolonial elites to maintain ethnic stratification systems (Furnivall 1939). But few suggested that ancient states, like modern ones,

might sometimes have faced the task of integrating ethnically heterogeneous populations. Rudolf van Zantwijk (1973) was one of the exceptions. In a remarkable paper dealing with the late prehispanic political organization of central Mexico, he proposed not only that multiethnic states had been forged in the ancient world, but that some, like the Aztecs, had been highly successful. A second major approach to ethnicity dates from Barth's (1969) landmark study of ethnic groups and boundaries. Barth suggested that ethnic identity was situationally defined, a strategem developed in response to resource competition. Ethnic identity provided a means of claiming rights and defining obligations for individuals as members of competing social groups. Thus, ethnic identity and ethnic conflict might arise in many situations of resource competition prior to the modern world, or even prior to the existence of states. This position is exemplified by Hodder's (1982) discussion of ethnicity in Baringo (Kenya). Hodder indicates that while colonial policies may have created the conditions of resource competition and ethnic identity observed during the course of study, similar conditions probably existed in the premodern world. Thus, resource competition and ethnic identity should be considered as forces that shaped the prehistoric world. Both the earlier view that ethnic groups were a product of tribal isolation and the subsequent view that ethnic groups were a product of resource competition were challenged by Fried's (1975) study of tribal organization. Fried suggested that prior to the formation of states group loyalties rarely extended beyond the local village. Political solidarity across entire regions based on appeals to shared ethnicity was a secondary response to state expansion. Fried's suggestion is in line with recent Marxist analyses which emphasize the importance of the state in shaping ethnic identity. Marxist anthropologists point out that, in the modern world, ethnic identity and conflict develop as products of state control. National identities are elaborated by elites to forestall the emergence of a revolutionary class consciousness (Marx 1977:591) or to define conceptions of civic virtue that legitimate submission to the state (Williams 1989). Ethnic "minorities" may emerge as the state deliberately fosters ethnic distinctiveness to undermine class solidarity or as populations cohere to resist exploitation. Patterson (1987) argues that ancient states were as likely as modern states to create the conditions that foster heightened ethnic identity and conflict. He also points out that states act opportunistically and inconsistently, suppressing ethnic identity in some groups to weaken their resistance while promoting 89

Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

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ethnic identity in others to obscure class structures (Patterson 1987:122). Ethnicity is a central motif in the native histories of highland central Mexico. The histories are filled with accounts of the wanderings of ethnic groups, their arrival in central Mexico, their settlement in towns and cities, and the continuous conflicts and short-lived alliances among them. This paper explores the nature of ethnic groups in pre-Aztec Mexico and the role that they played in political development. Why did ethnicity serve as the basis for group formation in pre-Aztec times rather than kinship or a system of open political patronage? How did ethnicity develop under Aztec state control? What is the evidence for ethnic groups in the archaeological record, and what can archaeology add to our understanding of the role of ethnic groups in Mexican political development? These questions are discussed with special reference to Xaltocan, a Postclassic community in the northern The Valley of Mexico

Valley of Mexico (Fig. 8.1). According to ethnohistoric sources, Xaltocan was an important regional center in pre-Aztec Mexico, and it was the capital of the Otomi people, an ethnic group that has retained a separate language and cultural identity up to the present day (Carrasco 1950). Recent archaeological investigations at Xaltocan and an unusually rich ethnohistorical record of the town's early history make it possible to begin to provide answers to the questions posed above. These data suggest that ethnicity provided no enduring basis for factional competition. The factions that formed in pre-Aztec times were composite, multi-ethnic coalitions. Later, the Aztec state was able to accommodate ethnic diversity within its borders without undue strain. And yet, ethnicity was an important concept in Mexican political ideology. It was pressed into service to promote a variety of economic and political goals. The kind of grouping described as ethnic and the meaning attached to that identity varied according to the ideological function served. Both ethnohistory and archaeology present similar pictures of ethnicity as a changing, manipulated concept. Ethnicity, history and the pre-Aztec political economy

Zumpango Lake Zumpai

° Lake Xaltocan

• Otumba * Teotihuacan

Cuauhtitlan *

Azcapolzalco • ^ a £ p 4 = ^ Tlacopan *

Coyoacan J ^ ^Culhuacan Lake Xochimilco

0

5

10 Km

Tenango Amaquemecan

Fig. 8.1 The Valley of Mexico during the Late Postclassic, showing the location of Xaltocan and other major settlements.

Almost all the native histories begin with accounts of how the land was settled. In these accounts, groups of migrants, each under a noble ruler or a chief, after years of wandering and many adventures, lay claim to particular territories. The claims are validated through sacrifice to the group's patron deity or they are confirmed by a political overlord. For example, according to Alva Ixtlilxochitl's (1975-7:1, 423, II, 299) account, the settlement of Xaltocan began with the arrival in the Valley of Mexico of three groups, the Tepanec, Otomi, and Aculhua "nations," each led by a noble lord. Finding that the valley had already been claimed by Xolotl, the ruler of the town of Tenayuca, the lords decided to offer him the vassalage of themselves and their followers (Fig. 8.2). Xolotl gladly accepted their service. He assigned them lands, and he arranged a suitable marriage for each of the three noble lords. The leader of the Tepaneca was given the city of Azcapotzalco and surrounding lands in the western Valley of Mexico. As a wife, he received Xolotl's older daughter. The leader of the Otomi was assigned Xaltocan and lands in the northern valley. He married Xolotl's younger daughter. The leader of the Aculhua, received the city of Coatlichan and lands in the eastern valley. He was wed to a

Political development in ancient Mexico

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Fig. 8.2 Chiconcuauh, leader of the Otomis and first ruler of Xaltocan (central figure, right), receives land from Xolotl (left), based on the Codex

Xolotl. noblewoman of Toltec ancestry, the daughter of the ruler of Chalco Atenco. Similar histories existed for many, if not all, political units in late prehispanic Mexico: Tenochtitlan, Texcoco, Cholula, Tlaxcala, etc. (Carrasco 1971:366). All the native histories share certain dominant themes: (1) elites and commoners bound together in ethnic groups, (2) in violent or negotiated competition with other ethnic groups, (3) lay claim to the land. Such accounts may or may not be historically true; their real importance was to serve as social charters (Price 1980). The histories established the relationships of land, labor, and tribute that defined the central Mexican political economy (Reyes Garcia 1977, Carrasco 1978). The histories recorded how noble leaders first laid claim to the land and then divided it among their noble allies and subject commoners as they saw fit. In dividing the land, a leader established his right to collect tribute and claim political support, and he affirmed the exclusive and enduring rights of certain groups of commoners to certain pieces of land. Thus, recorded history complemented carefully preserved maps of land holdings (Zorita 1963:110) to define commoners' access to the land. Ethnicity established an individual's right to participate in these historically grounded relationships. The allocations of land, labor, and tribute recorded in the historic narratives were claimed by those who considered themselves the social heirs of the original actors. Ethnicity was thus a statement of the ongoing rights and obligations of nobles and commoners, rooted in historical and therefore unalterable events. Like the history to which it alluded, ethnicity was "a political myth, establishing land claims and political legitimacy" (Price 1980:176).

Ethnicity and group formation

Ethnicity provides one set of principles for organizing the political economy by dividing people into groups, legitimating their access to resources, and establishing hierarchial relationships among them. But there are other means of accomplishing these tasks. Kinship systems can serve equally well to order people and their relations to things. A political economy can also be based upon ahistorical, negotiated transactions: the buying and selling of goods and services in a market economy or the exchange of favors in a system of open political patronage. Given these alternatives, we can ask why ethnicity played such an important role in organizing the Mexican political economy, and what implications this particular ideology had for the organization of political competition. In late prehispanic Mexico, two different corporate groups, the calpulli and the teccalli, found a basis in shared ethnicity. The calpulli was a corporate, landholding group of commoners having economic, political, and ceremonial functions (Carrasco 1971:363, Zantwijk 1985:24-6). Granted agricultural land by an overlord, the calpulli distributed it to its members. Calpulli members were jointly responsible for paying tribute, and they served as a unit in public labor projects and military campaigns. Each calpulli had a young men's house (telpochcalli) for the education of its youth, and each maintained a shrine for its patron deity (Carrasco 1971: 364-5). Calpulli groups had names, and calpulli members co-resided in rural hamlets and in urban wards, parts of larger cities and towns. A calpulli leader represented the calpulli to the overlord and saw to the faithful execution of the group's obligations to its lord. The leader might be a calpulli member elected by the membership (Zorita

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Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

1963:109-10) or a low-ranking noble appointed to office 1950-69 Bk. 6, Ch. 41, Offner 1983:255, Reyes Garcia by the overlord (Hicks 1982:243), but in any case, the 1977:85). calpulli involved the organization of commoners. Rulers had to be members of the royal lineage, but The teccalli, in contrast, was an elite establishment from this group rulers were chosen by election which (Carrasco 1976). A teccalli was created when a ruler might involve considerable politicking or even violence. granted lands to a noble in exchange for a pledge of Disputes over succession sometimes led to assassination, assistance and political support (but not tribute). These fission, or civil war (Brumfiel 1983:268; van Zantwijk, lords with their lower-ranking noble kinsmen (pipiltin) this volume). maintained palaces supported by attached, commoner The high level of competition within kingdoms was labor (which might be organized in calpulli groups) and accompanied by a high level of competition between agricultural lands. Teccalli leadership was limited to the kingdoms. The two were probably interrelated. The condescendants of previous leaders, but selection of the new quest of neighboring kingdoms provided rulers with the head from among qualified candidates was by election. resources to deal more effectively with noble competitors Voting was restricted to the teccalli's nobles (Carrasco within their own domains. Victorious rulers could gather 1976:23). more tribute to disburse to political allies and to placate Both calpulli and teccalli groups kept histories of the potentially troublesome kinsmen. Intense elite competition in ancient Mexico opened events that brought them into being, and both could claim distinctive ethnic identities (see Chimalpahin the way for negotiated arrangements between ruler and 1965:63-77, 139-50 for the origins and ethnic identities ruled. A ruling paramount needed allies in warfare; thus, of teccalli groups in Amecameca; Alva Ixtlilxochitl he welcomed immigrant lords with their followers and 1975-7:11, 32, 34 for the origins and ethnic identities of granted them teccalli lands (Chimalpahin 1965:133, calpulli groups in Texcoco). The calpulli and teccalli 139^4, 150; Reyes Garcia 1977:108). A paramount also groups entered into coalitions with paramount rulers to needed subsistence goods to maintain his royal estabconstitute petty kingdoms. These composite, autono- lishment (numerous wives, children, servants, craftsmen, mous kingdoms were the basic political units in pre- war leaders, priests, etc.); thus, he welcomed commoners Aztec Mexico. who sought to settle in his domain and allotted them As Zantwijk (1973) correctly points out, the petty calpulli lands (Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-7:11, 32, 34; Anales kingdoms were multi-ethnic units. For example, de Cuauhtitlan 1945:29). It appears then that conditions although Xaltocan was considered an Otomi commu- of intense competition within the ruling class favored the nity, it contained many other peoples: Toltecs, Chi- recruitment of followers through negotiated transactions. chimecs, Huixtocanos, Nonohualcanos, and TexcalpaWhy then were followers organized in historically nos (Nazareo 1940:123). Relations among the calpulli based corporate teccalli and calpulli groups instead of and teccali groups within a kingdom were often tense. individually negotiated patron-client relationships? Such groups seem always to have been ready to usurp First, such groups offered more durable relations, and the houses, lands, titles, and other resources of their both rulers and subjects benefited from this durability. neighbors (Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1945:50-1, Reyes For elites, a reliable following was the best defense Garcia 1977:79, 81, 89, Parsons et al. 1982:90-1, McCaf- against internal competition; it enhanced the elite's ferty 1989). The need to defend corporate assets from attractiveness as a patron, ally, and client of other elites, predatory neighbors may explain the exceptional dura- enabling him to form advantageous coalitions. For bility of ethnic identity at the local level (Barrios 1952, commoners, reliable patronage guaranteed continuing McCafferty 1989). access to the land, making it profitable to invest in Petty kingdoms were ruled by paramounts (tlatoque) improved land and housing and the cultivation of slowly who received tribute from the commoners and political maturing fruit trees and maguey plants. Second, both support from the teccalli lords. The king in consul- rulers and subjects benefited from commoners negotiatation with his lords decided questions of war and peace ting as corporate groups rather than as individuals. and dispensed justice. The king protected his lands and For rulers, commoners organized in corporate groups people, and he maintained temples and a marketplace facilitated state administration; fewer "contracts" were for the citizens of his domain. The king also mediated the negotiated and fewer units required monitoring. For resource disputes that arose among his subject calpulli commoners, corporate organization probably meant a and teccalli groups; this was an important responsibility stronger bargaining position in dealing with elites and in (Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-7:11, 102, Sahagun [1569] defending their resources against other commoners.

Political development in ancient Mexico These conditions might appear to favor the formation of corporate kinship groups rather than ethnic groups. Why then the latter and not the former? One possible disadvantage of kinship ties between nobles and commoners is that they would have been too exclusive and immutable, leaving too little room for negotiating by either nobles or commoners. However, the cognatic kinship systems of central Mexico were very open systems that could accommodate a great deal of strategizing and negotiation (Carrasco 1984; Zantwijk, this volume). It is more likely that kinship did not provide the ideological basis for corporate groups because kinship with its claim to common ancestry was not compatible with the ideology of class stratification. The whole system of class stratification in central Mexico rested upon the nobility's exclusive claim to land. To claim qualitatively superior property rights, nobles claimed to be qualitatively superior humans. They did so by emphasizing their own innate physiological capacity to govern (Lopez Austin 1988:1, 386-96). This idea would not admit any claims to loyalty based on shared kinship between a ruler and his people. Ethnicity, with its claim to common history but not necessarily common blood, allowed for enduring relationships between nobles and corporate groups of commoners. In the case of the teccalli, it even permitted the membership of nobles and commoners in a single corporate group. But it did so without endangering the relations of production that sustained the class system. Ethnic groups and factional conflict

Late prehispanic central Mexico featured a political situation characterized by clearly defined class divisions between land-owning nobles and tribute-paying commoners accompanied by intense competition within the ruling class. Factions formed around competing princes within petty kingdoms, but they often extended beyond the kingdom as rivals found allies in neighboring kingdoms. There was, however, no one-to-one correspondence between ethnic groups and political factions. First, ethnic groups were too small to constitute factions by themselves. Factions, like kingdoms, were composite, multi-ethnic entities. Second, ethnic ties did not automatically translate into political support. The rivals for positions of rule were often halfsiblings, the offspring of different wives of the same ruling lord. As such, they were unlikely to claim different ethnic identities. However, these siblings might draw support from different teccalli and calpulli groups within the kingdom and different royal kinsmen in other king-

93

doms based upon the ethnic affiliations of their mothers. For example, in their struggle for the rule of Texcoco, Nezahualcoyotl was supported by his mother's group, the Mexica, while Yancuiltzin, his rival, was supported by his mother's group, the Tepaneca (Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-7:11, 54, 64, 73). But since marriage alliances were numerous and widely dispersed, allies could find justification for supporting many different candidates. For example, the Mexica initially supported Yancuiltzin, the Tepaneca candidate in Texcoco, aligning themselves with the group of their own ruler's mother. Support for Nezahualcoyotl, the Mexica ruler's daughter's son, followed a change in the Mexica's own political ambitions (see Carrasco 1984 on the optive character of Mexican kinship and alliance). Thus, while calpulli and teccalli groups probably behaved as units in factional disputes, ethnicity did not automatically translate into political factions, and it did not entail automatic political loyalty. Zantwijk (1973) suggests another role for ethnicity in maintaining the fragmented political conditions of preAztec Mexico. He suggests that persistent conflict existed between parties with different ethnic policies. The early Chichimec rulers of the Valley of Mexico, Zantwijk argues, tried to impose Toltec culture upon more recent, less acculturated Chichimec immigrants. Conflict between the "Toltecized" Chichimecs who favored assimilation and the traditional Chichimecs who favored cultural pluralism raged unabated until the time of Aztec state formation. This certainly appears to have been a problem for Quinatzin, a thirteenth-century ruler of Texcoco: [Quinatzin] not only compelled the Chichimecs to [cultivate fields], but also to populate and build cities and settlements, removing them from their rustic and undomesticated way of life, following the plan and style of the Toltecs, for which reason many of the Chichimecs rebelled and, finding sympathy and allies among the four oldest of [Quinatzin's] five sons ... and among other noblemen and important people, rose up. And the first to commit this rebellion were those living in Coyauhtlan who burned many fields ... (Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-7:11, 30) But if this rebellion was sparked by an unpopular ethnic policy, it also was a reaction to the political conditions which "Toltecization" implied: the cultivation of tribute fields for a regional overlord, the use of corvee to build urban facilities, residence in nucleated settlements to facilitate bureaucratic administration, etc. Toltecization was a cultural policy with political implications of increased centralization and a heavier burden of tribute.

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Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

It was no accident that the effort to impose a more centralized, more extractive rule upon teccalli and calpulli groups and the effort to resist such rule took the form of an argument over assimilation vs. cultural pluralism. The separate ethnic histories of each teccalli and calpulli group provided each group with a charter of political autonomy: the right to cut a good deal locally or move on. A ruler who extracted too much from his lords and commoners might find them departing for some other kingdom, adding a new chapter to their ethnic odyssey. Worse yet, they might throw their support to some contender for rule, even the incumbent's own sons in the case of Quinatzin. Thus, it appears that the political importance of ethnicity in pre-Aztec central Mexico was not that it served as the basis for inherently divisive primordial loyalties, but rather that it sustained and legitimated political autonomy among commoners which limited the intensity of surplus extraction and intensified competition within the elite stratum for control of the limited surplus. Ethnic policies of the Aztec state

The Aztec state emerged from a period of intense political violence. The disruption of elite alliance networks and the broadened geographic control occasioned by this violence made possible the creation of a powerful, centralized state. The Aztecs moved quickly to consolidate their control through institutional reform. Their policy toward ethnicity, the foundations of decentralized political power, was complex and not entirely consistent. It included the accommodation of groups with established ethnic self-identity as well as the manipulation of ethnic images to strengthen Aztec rule. As Zantwikj (1985) describes in detail, the Aztecs were remarkably tolerant of ethnic diversity at the level of the calpulli and teccalli. They permitted the open practice of religious ritual in honor of patron deities and the free expression of ethnic identity in dress, house form, and even language (at least there is no ethnohistoric record of the state limiting these forms of ethnic expression). Within Tenochtitlan, calpulli groups sometimes shared in the spoils of war (Duran 1967:11, 83). Given the importance of ethnicity in establishing claims to land and tribute, the state could not really suppress ethnicity without undermining the class system which it hoped to exploit. Official tolerance of ethnic diversity was joined to a policy of covert cultural assimilation directed specifically at provincial nobles. The king and nobles of subject city-states were required to attend ritual events in the

Aztec capital Tenochtitlan, especially rituals relating to the succession of Aztec rulers or sacrifices to the Aztec patron diety, Huitzilopochtli (Duran 1967:11, 125, 173, 248, 250, 276, 295, 302, 316, 346, 393, 415, 483). The kings and nobles of subject city-states were also required to live in Tenochtitlan for part of each year (Cortes 1970:68). Finally, marriages were contracted between hinterland elites and the Aztec nobility (Carrasco 1974). The presence of Aztec princesses in hinterland palaces must have been an effective method of assimilating elites to an imperial Aztec culture. Aztec policy, then, was a compromise between recognizing ethnicity, the basis of the class system, and defusing the possibility of ethnic resistance to imperial dominance by co-opting and assimilating the hinterland nobility. Without elites to mobilize the ethnic communities, their potential for political action remained untapped (see Brass 1985:12). Thus, part of Aztec policy was directed at managing ethnic self-identity. However, the Aztecs also attempted to use ethnic attribution to strengthen state rule. Official state tolerance of ethnic diversity coexisted with widespread, derogatory ethnic stereotypes. Certainly invidious distinctions were being made by Sahagun's Mexica informants who, for example, characterized the Otomi as gaudy dressers, lazy, improvident, shiftless, and untrained blockheads. Other groups were also presented in unfavorable terms. The Matlatzinca were great witches who blew evil upon their victims. The Huasteca were drunkards. The Tlalhuica were imprudent, unrefined, and cowardly (Sahagun [1569] 1950-69, Bk. 10, Ch. 29). These ethnic stereotypes may well have been actively promoted by the cultural policies of the Aztec state. State-sponsored art and ritual performances provided opportunities for the state to define categorical distinctions between ethnic groups. It seems likely that the ethnic images presented by the state were important sources for the stereotypes enunciated by Sahagun's informants. For example, the Aztec image of the Otomi was communicated by the dress and behavior of the elite Aztec soldiers admitted to the ranks of honorary "Otomi" warriors (Fig. 8.3). Otomi warriors wore their hair in the defined Otomi fashion (shaved in front, left long in back). They wore special jewelry (white gastropod shell necklaces and labrets formed like the broad leaf of a water plant, see Sahagun [1569] 1950-69, Bk. 2, Ch. 27). At the festival of Xocotl huezti, these "Otomi" warriors danced publicly with captives they had taken in war prior to offering them for sacrifice (Brown 1988:176). While the manner of the dance is not recorded, this

Political development in ancient Mexico

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regions in the Valley of Mexico were sometimes referred to collectively as the Xochimilca, Chalca, Tepaneca, Acolhua, Culhua, Cuitlahuaca, Mixquica, and Mexica (Fig. 8.4). Gibson (1964:22) believed that these were enduring pre-state tribal groups which maintained their distinctive identities from the settlement of the Valley of Mexico in the eleventh and twelfth centuries until European contact. However, the distribution of references to these groups in the ethnohistoric sources suggests otherwise. The names most frequently occur in two contexts. First, they appear in the origin myths of the Mexica of Tenochtitlan, recorded in sources such as the Anales de Tlatelolco, the Codex Boturini, the Codice Aubin, and Sahagun (see Smith 1984 for references and historio\

^

The Valley of Mexico

\

/ / ^ ^ P * Lake ZumpangoJ^i

Zumpango j

H J ^ >

N

Xaltocan Lake Xaltocan

^

i

Cuauhtitlan •

^ ^ ^ ^

* Tepexpan

7

Tepaneca

M Hi

Tenayuca^El

-=

Tlacopan 9Wo' ^ f|$Tenochtfflan — = ^ Coyoacan ^ /

^

^

^

Acolhua

w

Azcapolzalco • | j p | ^ J - a k e Texcoco

Fig. 8.3 An honorary "Otomi" warrior seizes a captive in war, based on the Codex Mendoza.

• Otumba * Teotihuacan

' Texcoco * Huexotla * Coatlichan

^

^Culhuacan

Lake X o c h i m i l c o ^ ^ = w ^ l

i

provided a good opportunity for state commentary on /^Xochlmilco^^Cuitlahuac Chalco the meaning of Otomi-ness. Such warriors were valued / Mixqull|. Chalco / for their capacity for violence, but they were not con\ / \ / sidered qualified to govern: "The rulership they \Tenango q can 0 5 10 Km entrusted to no one who was a wicked but brave warrior, \ \ one furious in battle ... those who only come paying the \ Chalco Xochimilca \ tribute of death,... called quaquachictin, Otomi, tlaoton\ \ xintr (Sahagun [1569] 1950-69, Bk. 6, Ch. 20). The \ \ image of "Otomi" warriors as too brutal to hold poli\ \ tical power was a commentary on the ethnic Otomi's capacity for self-government. Finally, the Aztec state apparently constructed a new Fig. 8.4 "Tribal" areas of late prehispanic Mexico. category of ethnic groups. The inhabitants of different Based on Gibson 1964:Map 2. Ama

ueme

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Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

cerns the character of the group as defined by outsiders. Both insiders and outsiders use material culture to communicate their views. Individuals assert their ethnic membership by joining in group rituals or by displaying symbols of ethnic identity, usually items of dress or personal adornment. Whether behavioral or material, ethnic group markers tend to be both unique to the ethnic group and a part of a set of contrasting ethnic markers, having paradigmatic relationships with the markers of other ethnic groups (Wobst 1977:229). Archaeologically, artifacts such as jewelry, feasting vessels, food remains, house form, and tombs may have served as symbols of ethnic affiliation in the prehsitoric and historic past (Hodder 1979:452: Schuyler 1980: McGuire 1982; Auger et al 1987; Shennan 1989). In Mesoamerica, distinctive forms of decorated ceramics, spindle whorls, figurines, and mortuary rituals have been interpreted by archaeologists as markers of ethnic self-identity (Stocker 1983; Gerstle 1987; Rattray 1987; Santley, Yarborough, and Hall 1987; McCafferty 1989; Spence 1989; Schortman and Nakamura 1991). While ethnic affiliation involves the use of artifacts, ethnic attribution makes use of representational art. Ethnic groups are presented in stereotyped visual images Otomi ethnicity and the archaeological record that define their character as seen by outsiders. Such The ethnohistoric record indicates that ethnicity in Post- images may include the symbols of ethnic affiliation used classic Mexico had no stable meaning. Several different by group members supplemented with other conventiongroupings of ethnic names appear in Aztec history, and alized markers of appearance and behavior, some of each plays its distinctive ideological role. Ethnic identity which do in fact typify the group but have no symbolic was most frequently used to legitimate the rights of importance for group members and others of which are calpulli and teccalli groups to land, labor, and tribute. falsely ascribed to the group, usually communicating Less often, the concepts of Toltec and Chichimec justi- some sort of ethnic slur. Archaeologically, such images fied the centralizing policies of paramount rulers. might be preserved in murals, monumental sculpture, Derogatory ethnic stereotypes promoted the civic elaborately decorated pottery, and, occasionally, picculture fostered by the Aztec state, and the state used the torial manuscripts. ethnic identities acquired by regional populations to Since the focus of this paper is upon the potential of naturalize imperial administration. ethnic groups for political action, discussion concenThe character of ethnicity suggested by the documen- trates upon the archaeological evidence for ethnic affilitary sources can be tested with archaeological data. If, as ation in central Mexico. First, the artifact types that the documents suggest, the meaning of ethnicity in Post- served as Otomi ethnic markers are defined. Second, the classic Mexico was unstable, then the archaeological distribution of these artifacts at Xaltocan is examined to evidence of ethnicity should also be variable, changing indicate the ethnic composition of the Postclassic settleover time in intensity and social context. Archaeological ment. Finally, change in the frequency of these markers evidence of Otomi ethnicity recovered from Xaltocan over time is delineated to test our ideas about the unstable character of ethnic identity. meets these expectations. Archaeologists can hope to recover evidence both of Sixteenth-century descriptions of the Otomi isolate ethnic affiliation and of ethnic attribution (Comaroff the elements that outsiders considered distinctive of 1987). Ethnic affiliation refers to individuals' assertions Otomi culture. Some of these elements might have served about their own group membership and the character of the Otomi as markers of self-identity. From his survey of the group as defined by insiders; ethnic attribution con- the sources, Carrasco (1950) provides the following list: graphic comments on these sources). But these groups are rarely mentioned in histories from outside the Mexica tradition such as the Anales de Cuauhtitlan (1945) and Chimalpahin's (1965) Relaciones 4-7. Second, the names appear in Cronica X accounts of Aztec rule where they are mentioned repeatedly as units of military organization and corvee for public works (e.g. Alvarado Tezozomoc 1975:356, 363, 442, 560; also see Gibson 1964:22). This distribution suggests that the identity of regional groups was not, as Gibson (1964:22) believed, a survival of tribal affiliations through five centuries of inter-tribal interaction. Rather, the distribution suggests that the identity of regional groups was a product of Aztec rule. Regional identity developed as neighboring towns banded together to resist Aztec expansion and then were mobilized as military and corvee units to serve their Aztec overlords. If regional groups materialized only in the last century of Aztec rule, then their appearance in Mexico migration myths might be attributed to an effort by the Aztecs to manufacture history for provincial peoples so as to make the imperial organization appear natural and legitimate.

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Table 8.1. Otomi culture traits and their suggested archaeological correlates Otomi culture traits

Archaeological correlates

1

Preference for green corn

2

Hunting

3

Maguey-fiber cordage and textiles

4

Gaudy dress

5 6 7 8

Dispersed settlement Small, low houses Worship of Otonteuctli Celebrations of religious festivals at rural chapels

Low frequencies of a manos h metates High frequencies of a solid ceramic balls (blow gun pellets) b projectile points c notched sherds (throw net weights) High frequencies of a trapezoidal stone blades (ichtli scrapers) b large spindle whorls (to make ichtli thread) High frequencies of ground-stone earrings and labrets Low frequencies of structures per hectare site area Daub fragments Stone images of Otonteuctli and Yocippa Low on-site frequencies of bulky ceramic braziers

1 language 2 subsistence a. preference for green corn over dry, mature maize b. emphasis on hunting and food collecting c. bread made from mezquite beans d. elaboration of maguey-fiber {ichtli) textiles and cordage 3 dress and adornment a. distinctive male hairstyle, shaved in front and left long in back b. gaudy dress: highly decorated capes, shifts and skirts; red and yellow face paint; red feather arm and leg bands c. much jewelry: ear plugs and lip plugs of metal, shell, stone, baked clay, maize stalks or reeds 4 houses a. dispersed settlement pattern b. small, low houses with straw roofs 5 social organization a. sexual freedom prior to marriage b. early marriages 6 religion a. worship of Otonteuctli and Yocippa b. celebration of important religious festivals at rural chapels c. elaboration of the volador ceremony Of the Otomi traits isolated by Carrasco, some such as language and face paint escape archaeological detection,

but others leave an imprint on the archaeological record. Table 8.1 lists the archaeological correlations of some Otomi traits, and Table 8.2 examines the frequency of these traits in Middle Postclassic contexts at three Valley of Mexico sites: Xaltocan and two non-Otomi communities, Huexotla and Xico (Fig. 8.1). Trait frequencies are based upon intensive, systematic surface collections carried out at all three sites (Brumfiel, 1980, 1986, 1987b). Sample sizes ranged from 1 percent (at the urban core of Huexotla) to 11 percent (at Xico and Xaltocan); they supply reliable estimates of artifact frequencies for the three sites. The frequencies for many types of archaeological materials at Xaltocan are non-distinctive (Table 8.2). The frequencies of manos and metates are comparable to those at Huexotla (and greater than those at Xico). The frequencies of trapezoidal stone blades and large spindle whorls are higher than at Xico but lower than at Huexotla. The frequency of ceramic braziers is higher at Xaltocan than at either Huexotla or Xico. There are no stone images of the Otomi gods Otonteuctli and Yocippa at any of the three sites, but one stone image at Xaltocan clearly depicts Tlaloc, a pan-Mesoamerican deity. Settlement density at Xaltocan is moderate. Xaltocan, with 128 structures in 45 ha (2.8 structures per ha), has a lower density than Xico (131 structures in 24 ha; 5.4 structures per ha), but a higher density than Ixtapaluca Viejo (153-63 structures in 90 ha; 1.7-1.8 structures per ha, see Blanton 1972).

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Table 8.2. The frequency ofpossible ethnic markers at Middle Postclassic Xaltocan, Huexotla, and Xico (figures in parentheses are frequencies per 100 rim sherds). Xaltocana Manos Metates Solid ceramic balls Projectile points Notched sherds Trapezoidal stone blades Large spindle whorls Ground obsidian earrings and labrets Daub fragments Stone images of Otonteuctli and Yocippa Ceramic braziers

15 (0.2) 13 (0.2) 17 (0.3) 44 (0.7) (13 finished) 8 (0.1) 5 (0.1) 7 (0.1) 14 (0.2) 11 (0.2) 0

Huexotlab 7 2 6 8

(0.2) (0.1) (0.2) (0.2)

0

16 (0.4) 11 (0.3) not noted not noted 0

110 (1.7)

4 (0.1)

Xicoc 2 (>0.1) 1 (>0.1) 11 (0.2) 13 (0.3) (11 finished) 2 (<0.1) 0

1 (<0.1) 1 (<0.1) not noted 0

54 (1.1)

a

Number of rim sherds = 6562 Number of rim sherds = 3582 c Number of rim sherds = 5062 b

The absence at Xaltocan of many of the traits that outsiders regarded as characteristic of Otomi culture suggests that many of these traits were circumstantial. They were adaptations to the predominantly arid regions occupied by the Otomi (Carrasco 1950:59, 71), or they were practices that stemmed from the low socioeconomic status of the sixteenth-century Otomi (Carrasco 1950:303^4). At Middle Postclassic Xaltocan, an important Valley of Mexico settlement with some potential for chinampa (raisedfield)agriculture, many of these traits did not occur. Maize was allowed to mature fully so it could be stored to support settled life in town. A wide variety of crops were cultivated in Xaltocan's chinampas, lessening reliance upon the drought-resistant maguey, and Xaltocan's status as a regional political center demanded ritual performed in urban temples rather than rural chapels. Thus, many of the traits that defined Otomi identity in the sixteenth century were not appropriate to fourteenth-century Xaltocan. But some characteristic traits are evident in Xaltocan's archaeological record. The frequencies of artifacts associated with hunting (solid ceramic balls, projectile points, and notched sherds) are somewhat higher at Xaltocan than at Huexotla or Xico. Daub fragments (thick slabs of clay with fluted impressions) are fairly common at Xaltocan, but they were not noted at the other two sites. Again, the possibility exists that these traits were adaptations to local circumstances and only

incidently ethnic markers. Hunting waterfowl was an important extractive activity for many lake-bed settlements, and the lack of availability of construction materials such as lumber and stone may have forced a reliance upon wattle-and-daub construction. One clear indicator of Otomi self-identity may have been recovered at Xaltocan. Fifteen narrow, groundobsidian, Tau-shaped labrets were found in Middle Postclassic units at Xaltocan; a total of forty-six labrets were recovered from the site as a whole. Forty of these were unfinished, suggesting local manufacture. While jewelry of any type was rare at Huexotla and Xico, similar obsidian labrets have been recovered from Calixtlahuaca and Tlacotepec in the Toluca Valley (Brumfield, Salcedo, and Schafer 1993). The Toluca Valley contained Otomi speakers at the time of European contact, and Carrasco (1950:241-55) suggests that the neighboring Mazahua area was the point of origin for Otomi speakers in the Valley of Mexico. Sahagun ([1569] 1950-69, Bk. 10, Ch. 29) indicates that the obsidian labrets served as indicators of Otomi identity: "The lip plugs of the [Otomi] rulers were green stone lip plugs, or sea shell lip plugs, or gold lip plugs ... The lip plugs of all the [other Otomi] people were of rock crystal, obsidian or smoky stone ..." Certainly these labrets were well suited to serve as ethnic markers. Like hairstyles, face paint, and clothing, labrets were items of personal adornment, appropriate for asserting ethnic

Political development in ancient Mexico

99

higher in artifact collections that contained labrets than in collections without them (Table 8.3). At Xaltocan, labrets were recovered in all areas of the site. The forty-six labrets appear in thirty-nine different collection units, and while a particularly dense concentration of labrets exists in the northwest corner of the site, no sector of the site is entirely free of them (Fig. 8.8). This distribution is somewhat surprising; it does not conform to the model of community organization suggested by ethnohistoric sources, i.e., localized wards of ethnically distinct calpulli and teccalli groups. Instead, the scattered distribution of labrets suggests one of three possibilities. Either the entire population of Xaltocan was Otomi, or the members of Otomi calpulli and teccalli

Fig. 8.5 The Otomipatron deity Otonteuctli, wearing a labret, appears in the festival of Xocotl huetzi, based on the Codex Magliabecchiano. group membership. The labrets might well have been elements in a region-wide system of facial ethnic markers, contrasting with the markers of other ethnic groups by shape, raw material, or part of the face which was adorned. For example, Chimalpahin (1965:76) reports that in Yacapixtla, Morelos, "All went about with worked metal ornaments in their noses in honor of the devil [Tezcatlipoca]." The ground-obsidian labrets, then, may be the single element of Xaltocan's archaeological assemblage that is most expressive of Otomi ethnicity (Fig. 8.5 and 8.6). Examination of the partially finished labrets from Xaltocan enables us to reconstruct the process of manufacture (Fig. 8.7) (Brumfiel, Salcedo, and Schafer 1993). An obsidian blade was heavily retouched along its lateral edges below the striking platform until a narrow T-shaped outline was achieved. All edges of the blade were then ground smooth. The labrets do not seem to have required much time to produce; experimental attempts at labret production suggest that they could be turned out in less than an hour (John E. Clark, pers. comm., 1989). The ease with which obsidian labrets were produced suggests that they were not primarily markers Fig. 8.6 Otomi dancers, wearing labrets, celebrate the of high status. This impression is supported by the fact festival of Xocotl huetzi, based on the Codex that the proportion of decorated pottery was not much Borbonicus.

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Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

Table 8.3. Percentage of decorated pottery in units with and without labrets.

Middle Postclassic units Units with labrets Units without labrets Late Postclassic units Units with labrets Units without labrets

Decorated rims

Total rims

Percent decorated rims

301 1812

866 5696

34.8 31.8

157 1407

560 5727

28.0 24.6

groups did not co-reside in localized wards within the settlement, or ethnic identity was somewhat smeared at Xaltocan, with many residents choosing to identify with the ethnic group of their community's ruling lineage. The first possibility is flatly contradicted by Nazareo (1940:123^1) who asserts that Xaltocan was a multiethnic community. His assertion is corroborated by many other sources that comment on the multi-ethnic composition of central Mexican communities (Carrasco 1971:366, Reyes Garcia 1977, Hicks 1982:243). The second possibility is somewhat more likely. Calpulli groups have been considered as co-residential units primarily because of the Spanish habit of equating calpulli with barrio, and by the coincidence of calpulli names with barrio names in historical or contemporary com-

munities (Carrasco 1971:363^1). And yet, it is possible that the localized character of the calpulli groups was established with reference to the locations of the sanctuaries of their patron deities rather than with reference to the residences of their members (Reyes Garcia 1977:110 records the existence of a multi-ethnic barrio in sixteenth-century Cuauhtinchan). The third possibility seems even more likely. Calpulli members might come to identify the ruling family and its patron deity as protectors and benefactors of the entire community. Smith (1984) points to the acquired identification of residents with their town, citing Chimalpahin's statement (1965:66): "[I]t was the custom that when a person moved from his town and went to settle in another already established town, such a person would assume as his own name that of the town to which he had

I rIf

rff rnr|rrn|inr|TiripTTTJTTnjTT 1

2

3

CENTIMETERS

4

5

6

7

8

ft

101

Fig. 8.7 Labrets from Xaltocan. The two on the left are finished examples from rock crystal. The obsidian blade on the right is in an early stage of manufacture. It has been heavily retouched along its lateral edges below the striking platform. Next, the length of the blade would be ground to a smooth cylinder.

Fig. 8.8 The distribution of labrets within the survey area of Xaltocan.

Political development in ancient Mexico

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Table 8.4. Otomi ethnic markers at Xaltocan, Middle Postclassic and Late Postclassic periods (figures in parentheses are frequencies per 100 rim sherds).

Obsidian labrets Projectile points Solid ceramic balls Notched sherds a b

Middle Postclassica

Late Postclassic5

14 44 17 8

6 25 3 3

(0.2) (0.7) (0.3) (0.1)

(0.1) (0.4) (0.05) (0.05)

Number of rim sherds = 6562 Number of rim sherds = 6287

moved." The archaeological data from Xaltocan may indicate then that, despite the historically diverse ethnic composition of central Mexican communities, ethnicity served as a unifying ideology at the community level. The archaeological data also indicate that ethnic distinctiveness of Xaltocan decreased once the town had been incorporated into the Aztec state. The frequency of obsidian labrets is only half as great in the Late Postclassic collections from Xaltocan as in the Middle Postclassic collections (Table 8.4). These data may reflect the changing ethnic composition of Xaltocan's population, or they may imply that the value of Otomi affiliation declined once Xaltocan was no longer an autonomous community. When Xaltocan was conquered in 1395, the entire town was abandoned. Many residents followed Xaltocan's ruler north to seek refuge in the kingdom of Metztitlan; others fled east to Tlaxcala and Texcoco (Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1945:34, Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-7:1, 323, II, 36). Thirty years later, the town was resettled under Aztec rule, and the new population was a heterogeneous one. It included Acolmatlacas, Colhuas, Tenochcas, and Otomis (Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1945:50). Quite possibly, the new population contained a lower proportion of ethnic Otomi than the earlier one. This would result in a lower number of labret-using individuals at the site, and a lower frequency of labret manufacture in Late Postclassic times. A second possibility is that the value of Otomi affiliation declined. In Middle Postclassic times, Otomi identity may have served as a symbol of the mutualistic relationship between commoners and the elite: access to land in exchange for tribute and labor. In Late Postclassic times, however, mutuality was replaced by intense exploitation. The critical juncture may have been the absorption of Xaltocan's elites by the Aztec power.

structure. When changes in the regional balance of power made it advantageous for Xaltocan's elites to align themselves with the ruling class of the regional state, Otomi identity lost the advantages it had once held for commoners. Otomi ethnicity became a disadvantageous, stigmatized identity imposed by dominant others, and the stigma of Otomi identity was no longer balanced by its usefulness as a symbol of the mutual interests of Xaltocan's elites and commoners. Commoner interest in expressing an Otomi identity began to fade, and the result was a lower frequency of labret manufacture at the site. Conclusions

The ethnohistoric and archaeological data suggest that ethnicity was a highly labile trait in late prehispanic central Mexico. It assumed many forms and was appropriated by many different parties for many different purposes. Prior to the formation of the Aztec state, ethnicity operated at the level of calpulli and teccalli groups to legitimate claims to land and tribute. In addition, the ethnic affiliation of a kingdom's ruling lineage provided a source of shared identity for members of the community. Under Aztec rule, ethnicity at the level of calpulli and teccalli groups continued, but the Aztecs sought to override particularistic ethnic identities within the ruling class by forging a regional elite culture. The Aztec state also promoted derogatory ethnic stereotypes, thereby asserting the superiority of the civic culture fostered by the state. Finally, partly by Aztec intent and partly independent of their will, ethnicity emerged on a regional level. Neighboring towns developed a collective identity as the result of the integrative policies of the smaller states that preceded Aztec rule, the alliances formed to resist Aztec conquest, the common service in Aztec military and corvee drafts, and the very myths that

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the Aztecs fabricated to naturalize the regional organization which they imposed. Thus, ethnicity seems to have provided no fixed alignments for factional competition and political development. Rather, ethnicity was a tool, fashioned to the needs of political actors as defined by the existing political structure. In late prehispanic Mexico, when the most important political unit was the petty kingdom, ethnicity defined relationships within and between such communities. With the emergence of larger states, ethnicity began to operate at the regional level. It appears, then, that ethnicity is itself shaped by political development; its value as a political resource (to build factions and engage in political action) is a function of the size and complexity of the existing political structure.

Ethnic-based political factions that cut across class lines to mobilize entire regions for political action probably emerged only as the product of large states. Acknowledgments My thanks to Fred Hicks, Paul Loukides, Randy McGuire, Hattula Moholy-Nagy, Tom Patterson, Glenn Perusek, Mary Pohl, and Michael Smith for their suggestions, criticisms, and comments that improved previous versions of this paper. Fieldwork at Huexotla, Xico, and Xaltocan was supported by grants from the National Science Foundation (GS-38470), the Mellon Foundation and the H. John Heinz III Charitable Trust. Maggie LaNoue produced the drawings from native manuscripts that illustrate this chapter.

Factional divisions within the Aztec (Colhua) royal family RUDOLF VAN ZANTWIJK

The Aztec or Colhua royal family in the prehispanic Mexican empire was the real heart of the political elite in Aztec society. This principal family resided in the great city of Mexico-Tenochtitlan, and was related by affinal and consanguineous ties to the leading families in the other important centres of central Mexico and beyond. The families of Mesoamerican chieftains were polygynous, and in many of these, including the Aztec royal family, political succession was decided by election. Where both characteristics operated together, many mothers with sons or daughters who were potential candidates for positions of rule lived together in palacecompounds with many officials who were often their own or their children's relatives. We don't have to tax our imaginations to expect a rather fertile ground for the flowering of political intrigues and the resulting factional divisions. In addition to these two factors, two other characteristics of Mesoamerican systems of government contributed to factionalism: the almost omnipresent dual organization of local rule and the typically bilateral systems of kinship and inheritance. The dual organization meant that on every level of some importance there were two co-rulers, both occupying equal positions in the hierarchy of government but with different functions. Usually, one ruler was responsible for the external relations of the domain whereas the other was mainly in charge of the maintenance of internal order and justice. Conflicts between the two co-rulers were possible of course, and some violent ones are recorded in Toltec and Aztec historiography. In addition, the bilateral system of kinship in which no clear-cut distinction was made between the hereditary rights of descendants in the

paternal and the maternal lines often gave rise to conflicts about succession. Ethnic heterogeneity was another common feature of Mesoamerican societies, and often it was present on the local level. Frequently ethnic diversity was reflected in the bipartite, tripartite, quadripartite, or septipartite governmental systems. At times, the two co-rulers at the highest level represented two different ethnic groups; in these cases, ethnic differences were an additional source of latent dissension. Before continuing our description of factional disputes in detail, it is worth considering the specific character of interethnic social arrangements of prehispanic Mesoamerica. People of European culture, accustomed to nationalism and ethnocentrism, are inclined to interpret disputes between ethnic groups almost exclusively in terms of ethnic rivalry and competition and to view membership in a certain ethnic group as a constant and irreversible condition. This, however, is not true in Mesoamerican societies, particularly not in the social and political lives of the elites. Families of high social and political status intermarried frequently with ethnically different leading families, and because of the fact that a person could be considered as belonging to his father's kin as well as to his mother's, all descendants of mixed marriages had the opportunity to identify with one group or the other. This Mesoamerican particularity made it possible for structurally and functionally identical groups which, by virtue of their similarity, competed for resources and/or positions of power or prestige, to identify themselves with certain ethnic groups although their members did not fully belong to these groups. In other words, political factions within a single ethnically heterogeneous society could present themselves as belonging to different ethnic groups although in reality they belonged to the same kind of ethnically heterogeneous groups. Now let us consider the occurrence of factional divisions within the Aztec royal family against the background of the dual system of government, ethnic diversity and factions in the whole process of Aztec political history. Surprisingly, the indigenous Aztec histories don't emphasize political factionalism. In general, the well-known great historians of the colonial period present a picture of a rather stable and internally peaceful monarchial system of government, characterized by continuity and absence of revolts, coups d'etat, and other major disturbances. However, a careful examination of the historical record reveals many episodes which may have involved factional competition. For the legendary period in Aztlan and during the 103

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Rudolf van Zantwijk

early Aztec migrations, clashes between co-rulers or conflicts within the multipartite chieftainship are recorded in the following cases:

political integration of at least seven different ethnic groups: Mexitin or Mexihcah, Colhuas or Toltecs, Acolhuas, Tepanecah, Chinampanecah, Chichimecah and Otomis or Otoncah. Five or six of these groups contri1. between Chalchiuhtlatonac and his brother, the buted to the population of the two Aztec cities of "king" of the Cuexteca, in Aztlan (Chimalpahin Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco; only the Acolhuas did not 1963:1,5); contribute in any considerable number. In addition, 2. between Huitzilopochtli and some relatives on one Mexicas joined with other ethnic groups in settling other side and his sister Coyolxauhqui and their uncles of central Mexican towns, for the incorporation of entire the calpolli Huitznahuac on the other side (Sahagun subdivisions of ethnic groups as calpolli groups in local 1946:1,286-9; Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:34^6); multi-ethnic communities was a widespread phenom3. between Huitzilopochtli and his sister Malinalxochitl enon. Therefore, all the principal ethnic groups had (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:30-1); relatives in a number of central Mexican cities and 4. between Tenoch, Cuauhtlequetzqui, and their allied towns. calpolli chiefs on one side and Copil and his calpolli Integrational processes of this kind occur in other Chalman on the other side (Alvarado Tezozomoc parts of the world as well, but generally result in a 1949:64^5); weakening and ultimate disappearance of ethnic distinc5. between the chiefs of the Tenochca and those of the tions. In Mesoamerica, the ethnic subgroupings were Tlatelolca shortly after the "founding" of Mexicoconverted into corporate (calpolli) entities with specific Tenochtitlan (Torquemada 1975:1,136). political, social, ritual, and economic functions. This The first three cases mentioned refer to rather corporate identity made it possible for these groups to mythical stories. Although there are some connections persist for a very long time. It will be clear now that with historical social groups, it is almost impossible to Mesoamerican ethnic groups such as these had a quality reconstruct the real basis of the disputes. In the first and that was quite different from, let us say, that of a Jewish historically most remote dispute, ethnic domination is minority in a European city. Although these Mexican given as the cause of the flight of Chalchiuhtlatonac and local groups carried ethnic labels, they were not ethnic his Mexitin followers from Aztlan. The second case groups in our sense of the word, but just corporate involves an internal dispute between one group led by entities which recognized a certain remote common the priest Huitzilopochtli wishing to continue the descent. This does not mean, however, that tensions and Mexitin migration and an opposing group led by his even violent clashes between ethnic groups were wholly sister Coyolxauhqui wishing an easier "Toltec" way of absent. The historical sources record a number of brutal life (based on settled irrigation farming). The third case conflicts, for instance between Mexitin and Colhuas is more complicated because of the apparent reinterpre- before the former left Colhuacan "to found" their "new" tation of history by the Aztecs themselves. In this story, city of Mexico-Tenochtitlan. Nevertheless, it looks as if Malinalxochitl and her Chalmeca followers represent this kind of violent clash occurred particularly in the the more autochthonous population of the Colhuacan lower social strata. lake district, and Huitzilopochtli is described as the We now have some background for considering the priest and chief of the Mexitin migrants. The two leaders factional disputes between Tenoch, Cuauhtlequetzqui are said to be brother and sister, and to make this and their allied calpolli chiefs on the one side, and Copil credible Malinalxochitl is depicted as a troublesome and his calpolli Chalman on the other side. This dispute companion during the trek. In this way, a dispute took place at the beginning of the formation of the entity between two different ethnic groups is represented as an now generally labeled as the "Aztec" state. internal struggle of the Mexitin. In the last two cases we Near the middle of the fourteenth century, calpollis are reaching the more solid ground of social history for it (i.e., local social, political, and ritual groups under the now becomes possible to associate the leading figures leadership of one or two noble families) of Otomi, Chiwith historically known social groups within incipient chimec, Colhua, and Chinampanec ethnicity had Aztec society. These last two disputes were crucial in founded Tenochtitlan-Tlatelolco on the higher ground shaping the political structure of Mexico-Tenochtitlan, within the coastal swamps. Within the incipient Aztec the Aztec capital. society, tension existed between more autochthonous During the first half of the fourteenth century, the Colhua and Chinampanec groups represented by the development of Aztec society involved the social and calpolli Chalman on the one side, and the Otomi and

Divisions within the Aztec royal family

105

Rulers of Tlatelolco

The Aztec Royal Family (its principal members) Huitzilopochtli [Mexitin]

Malinalxochitl (?) [Chalman]

Acacihtli, Tenoch, Cuauhtlequetzqui, etc.

Copil

Tenochca brides |

1. *Acamapichtli I

I. *Tlacoten

1. Cuacuauhpitzahuac

II. Teuhtlehuac

2. Huitzilihuitl I

2. Tlacateotl

3. Chimalpopoca III. Teilhtlehuac

3. Cuauhtlahtoa Da of ruler of Tlacopan Tiliuhcan

4. Itzcoatl 5. Motecuzoma I Machimaleh Atotoztli ($)

IV. Tlacaelel Iquehuacatzin

6. Axayacatl V. Tlilpotonqui VI. Tlacaelel

Cacama

7. Tizoc

8. Ahuitzotl

4. Moquihuix Tezozomoc

Chalchiuhnenetzin ($)

Texcatlteuctli

Tiyacapantzin (?)

VII. Tlacotzin 9. Motecuzoma

10. Cuitlahuac

11. Cuauhtemoc

I

Tecuichpo ($)

•Arabic numeral designates the tlahtoani (external ruler) of Tenochtitlan; Roman numeral designates the cihuacoatl (internal ruler) of Tenochtitlan.

Fig. 9.1

Colhua and Tepanec factions within the ruling lineage of Tenochtitlan.

various "Chichimec" immigrants, including the Mexitin, on the other side. These groups lived side by side dominated, in different degrees, by the Tepanec, Colhua, and Acolhua capitals while maintaining a precarious balance of power among themselves. Aztec society was born as the immediate outcome of this struggle - that ended with a very interesting compromise. This compromise was made during the second half of the fourteenth century, as Tepanec and Acolhua political rivalry intensified (Fig. 9.1). Probably the increase of external pressure led the citizens of TenochtitlanTlatelolco to accept central leadership under the rule of Chalman, the most prestigeous of the calpollis. The first Aztec ruler, Acamapichtli-Chilatlexotzin, representing the leading noble family of Chalman, became the polygynous bridetaker to all the other calpollis that constituted Tenochca society. As such, his family obtained a predominant position in the city, and it came to be

considered ancestral to the later Aztec royalty. Obviously, in this process the bride-giving groups had to accept a lower political status than the Chalmecan nobles, but this did not mean that they were equals among themselves. In fact, political hierarchization became more and more dependent upon the social, political, and ritual status of the maternal ancestry of the leading nobles. Therefore, factional divisions on the highest level of incipient Aztec society were associated with efforts to upgrade the standing of one's own maternal relatives and to downgrade the status of the mothers of political rivals. Because of the fact that the ethnicity of the various maternal relatives could be quite different, ethnic conflicts could result from, or form the background to, such factional disputes. Only in the light of this particular polygynous arrangement may we understand why a curious compromise was made among the competing noble families of the incipient Aztec capital.

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Rudolf van Zantwijk

Although the Chalmecan noble family of Acamapichtli undoubtedly obtained political dominance over the other families of calpolli chiefs, the Chalmecan nobles, symbolized in official histories by Copil and his mother, are depicted as the losers and their Otomi and Mexitin rivals, symbolized by Tenoch and Cuauhtlequetzqui, as the victors in the first serious confrontation between the two sides. This paradox may be explained: within the ruling family the members who descended from the Tenoch and Cuauhtlequetzqui families had a strong motive to make them more important. In reality, however, the descendants of Tenoch occupied positions of rule only on the level of calpolli and lower governmental functions in the Aztec state. Nevertheless, because of the importance given the Tenoch faction in Aztec myth, his descendants were allowed to play specific roles in ritual, ceremonial, calendrical, and other public occasions, so that they could at certain intervals be considered important. This social mechanism undoubtedly smoothed away some differences within the incipient Aztec political establishment, but did not truly overcome the most important tensions. We may assume that the phenomenon of internal tension within the Mesoamerican multi-ethnic political systems was widely known to the inhabitants of that city when they started to build a new social and political arrangement that later was called Aztec. In its early years, Tenochtitlan was ruled by chiefs who partly operated on behalf of Colhua overlords while a number of other local chiefs recognized the superiority of the Tepanecs of Azcapotzalco. Tlatelolco from the very start was firmly controlled by the latter. We have learned from archaeology that Tlatelolco was populated earlier than Tenochtitlan. Therefore it may be assumed that an eventual separation of a number of Tenochca groups and their leaders with the intention 'to found' the sister-city of Tlatelolco in reality referred to a migration of factions that preferred to live under Tepanec political influence, much stronger in Tlatelolco while Colhua political influence was growing in Tenochtitlan. According to the majority of historical sources, the new Colhua-Aztec regime of Acamapichtli and Ilancueitl overcame possible tensions with the group of calpolli-chiefs who exercised local authority in the anterior period (± 1340 - 1376) by a series of twenty marriages between Acamapichtli and the daughters of the aforementioned chiefs. The formation of these interethnic or inter-familiar relations between different chieftainships in local and regional settings was the normal Mesoamerican solution for the problem of creating unity in multipartite governmental systems.

In addition, the opposition of older ruling groups was reduced through marriage alliance. Acacihtli, holder of the noble title Tecpanecatl-Chichimecatecuhtli in Tenochtitlan, was a descendant of the first Huitzilihuitl, who ruled in Chapultepec before the founding of MexicoTenochtitlan. This Huitzilihuitl was the son of a princess from Tzompanco and a Mexitin spouse (Chimalpahin 1963:1,79, Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:80). Apparently this older royal family wasfirmlyallied to the new one by the decision to elect the future rulers of Tenochtitlan from the descendants of Acamapichtli and Acacihtli's daughter Tezcatlamiahuatl. In the Codex AzcatitIan (1949:1am. XIII), Acacihtli presides over the coronation ceremony of Acamapichtli, Tenochtitlan's first king. The question arises, what then happened to dual government in Tenochtitlan? The Colhua princess Ilancueitl and her nephew or foster son AcamapichtliChilatlexotzin of mixed Colhua-Mexica descent ruled together shortly after the foundation of the city (Zantwijk 1985:99-105). The data concerning Ilancueitl and Acamapichtli are very confused and inconsistent. Some sources, such as the Codex Izhuatepec, suggest that Ilancueitl was the chieftainess in the Tlacatecpan calpolli and Acamapichtli was chief of the calpolli Chalman. The Codex Mendoza (1978:21) indicates that Acamapichtli exercised the functions of Cihuacoatl for some years, suggesting that Ilancueitl or another functionary was meanwhile in charge of external rule. Many sources, however, do not even mention Ilancueitl (Chimalpahin 1963:20-1; see also Zantwijk 1985:182). Belonging to a generation before Acamapichtli, she was most likely his predecessor. Certainly, official Aztec historiography contains no mention of co-rulers for Acamapichtli's successors, Huitzilihuitl (II) and Chimalpopoca. This has always been a problem for me, for I do not believe that the dual system of government, so essential in Mesoamerica, was abolished in Tenochtitlan for two or three generations. Therefore, I shall present a hypothesis derived from the data provided by the sources regarding the first important internal split within the royal family. These data refer to the separation which developed between the lineage of Chimalpopoca and the other lineages within the royal family arising from the different roles played by their leaders in the Tepanec war of 1426. The official 'reformed' Aztec history gives the impression that Chimalpopoca was a coward who was caught and murdered by the Tepanecs and that therefore his children were excluded from governmental functions. Some sources suggest that Chimalpopoca was murdered by the Tepanecs from Tlacopan at the instigation of

Divisions within the Aztec royal family Itzcoatl (Nazareo 1940:118, Torquemada 1975:1,125-6, Anales de Tlatelolco 1948:35). Under these circumstances the Chimalpopoca faction soon lost out to the opposing faction led by Itzcoatl, Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina, and Tlacaelel, who created a new regime. In the beginning, however, there was still some support for the lineage of the executed king. Chimalpopoca was succeeded by his son Xihuitltemoc, who ruled for about sixty days (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:104). In order to understand what was going on we have to realize the so-called Tepanec war started as a rebellion of certain factions in Tenochtitlan and some other cities against Tepanec central authority and its local representatives. The Anales de Tlatelolco (1948:15), written as early as 1528, mention two successive Tepanec kings of Tenochtitlan, the first called Tlacoten and the second Teuhtlehuac, who were brothers. The second name is very remarkable, because Teuhtlehuac is also the name of Chimalpopoca's son, who held the office of Tlacochcalcatl, one of the two supreme military commanders, before his father's death (Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1945:38). Among the Aztecs and related groups, it was customary for grandparents to have grandchildren named after them! Therefore I now state my hypothesis: if Chimalpopoca was a son of the Tepanec ruler of Tenochtitlan who was called Teuhtlehuac, it would imply that, until Itzcoatl came to power, the inhabitants of Tenochtitlan were ruled by two royal lineages which provided the two co-rulers on the highest level. That is to say, a Tepanec dynastic lineage provided the external rulers and a Colhua-Mexica dynastic lineage provided their internal co-rulers. Five Tepanec rulers of Tenochtitlan are then mentioned in the sources: Tlacoten, his brother Teuhtlehuac (I), his probable son Chimalpopoca and the sons of this unhappy king, called Xihuitltemoc and Teuhtlehuac (II). This hypothesis is very attractive, because it makes it possible to explain various historical data that are otherwise rather difficult to understand, for instance: 1) the absence of co-rulers of Acamapichtli; Huitzilihuitl, and Chimalpopoca himself; 2) the fact that Maxtla and other Tepanec leaders wanted Chimalpopoca to live in Azcapotzalco, because he belonged to their people (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1975:238); 3) the remarkable circumstance that the Tlacochcalcatl Teuhtlehuac (II) lived in the more Tepanecinfluenced twin town of Tlaltelolco and not in Tenochtitlan where he exercised his office (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:98);

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4) the rather indifferent attitude of the people of Tenochtitlan when Chimalpopoca was caught and carried away by Tepanecs (Orozco y Berra 1960:111,186-7); 5) the incidence of the personal names Chimalpopoca and Teuhtlehuac in the Tepanec royal families of Azcapolzalco and Tlacopan. In addition to these facts a wholly new light is thrown on Itzcoatl's reform of historiography and on the exclusion of Chimalpopoca's descendants. However, this hypothesis does not imply that Chimalpopoca did not belong to the Aztec royal family. Most probably he was the son of a Mexican princess, because this type of intermarriage between two ruling lineages was very common. As we know, for the Mexicans, circumstances decided whether a person belonged to his father's group or to his mother's. Therefore, in spite of frequent intermarriage, ethnic divisions in the Aztec sense could be very persistent: the official distinction between Mexicans and Tepanecs lasted in a barrio of Azcapotzalco until the year 1918 (Barrios 1952:287)! Therefore, this factional competition between a Tepanec and a Colhua-Chalmec governmental elite was probably the most persistent phenomenon in the political evolution of the Aztec ruling family. We shall see that it continued to play an important role in political developments, persisting in indigenous government during the colonial period. It is worth giving ample attention to the Tepanec-Colhua opposition and its role within the Aztec political establishment, for persistently it serves as a leitmotiv for factional disputes at the highest level. In 1431, at the end of the Tepaneca-Mexico war, a new clash developed between Itzcoatl, the tlahtoani (external leader) of Tenochtitlan, and Cuauhtlahtoa, ruler of Tlatelolco. Although Cuauhtlahtoa was Itzcoatl's ally in the war, he was violently suppressed because he was a direct descendant of the Tepanec rulers. He was forced to live in Tenochtitlan as a puppet-ruler. After his death in 1460, the rule of his lineage ended when Itzcoatl's successor Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina installed a distant collateral relative, Moquihuix, as ruler of Tlatelolco (Chimalpahin 1963:94, 105; Codex Mendoza 1978:22, 24 [folio 6]). The next violent factional division with the Aztec royal family took place after the death of Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina, when the prince-elect Iquehuacatzin was excluded from government. This episode has been treated by me at some length in earlier publications (Zantwijk 1978, 1985:189-91). Therefore I shall describe it only briefly here. Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina was a son of the princess

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Miyahuaxihuitl of Cuauhnahuac(an), an old city that is now called Cuernavaca, and he was married to Chichimecacihuatzin, a princess of his mother's family. Therefore, the political status of Motecuzoma and his children depended to a considerable extent on the prestige of the royal house of Cuauhnahuac. When Motecuzoma was a young prince, during the reign of Chimalpopoca (1417-27), troops from Mexico-Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco still served as auxiliaries of the rulers of Cuauhnahuac in their campaign in what is now the state of Guerrero. However, after the Mexican conquest of Azcapotzalco, Mexico-Tenochtitlan eclipsed its southern rival, and Motecuzoma's mother's and wife's family inevitably lost its high standing. Motecuzoma and Chichimecacihuatzin had a daughter, Atotoztli, who was married to Itzcoatl's son Tezozomoc. They were to become the parents of the later kings Axayacatl, Tizoc, and Ahuitzotl. Furthermore Motecuzoma had two sons, Iquehuacatzin, who was tlacatecatl (a military commander), and Mahchimaleh. The office of tlacatecatl was a useful leg up to the throne, and in 1472, shortly before the civil war between Axayacatl and Moquihuix broke out, "they [the Tenochcas] killed Iquehuacatzin, who should have been the king of Tenochtitlan" (Anales de Tlatelolco 1948:59). The background of this political murder is rather complicated. When Motecuzoma died, probably in 1466, a factional dispute arose over his succession. His halfbrother Tlacaelel, the influential Cihuacoatl of Tenochtitlan and president of the High Council of the Empire (Tlahtocan) favored the nomination of Princess Atotoztli, as a kind of caretaker for her sons, who had not yet the age nor sufficient experience to govern the empire. In this he obtained the support of the king of Tetzcoco, who was one of the electors. In doing so, their influential faction passed over two more logical candidates: Prince Iquehuacatzin, the tlacatecatl, and Atotoztli's husband, Prince Tezozomoc. As long as Atotoztli was in charge, her brothers apparently did not dare to resist openly what undoubtedly was a disputed choice that caused serious controversy in the highest circles of the Aztec nobility. But as soon as Atotoztli's youngest son Axayacatl was installed as her successor, Iquehuacatzin and his brother embezzled the tax revenue of the province of Coaixtlahuacan, the most important conquest of their father Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina. However, their aunts, the women of the palace, secretly took possession of it, and then made their crime public. The two brothers fled, losing their noble titles and their honor. One aspect of this palace-revolution is of particular importance. The decisive role played by the "aunts" of

the palace indicates the tremendous influence of women in the polygynic extended families of the ruling elite. The reasons for passing over Iquehuacatzin are not entirely clear. Maybe Tlacaelel did not like the prospect of having an experienced co-ruler at his side. Another possibility is that the faction guided by Tlacaelel aimed at compromise between the Colhua and Tepanec parties, a goal that could not be served by electing the descendants of the ruling family of Cuauhnahuac. There are some strong indications for this last supposition. First of all, prince Tezozomoc, Atotoztli's husband, had a Tepanec mother and Tepanec personal name. Furthermore, Axayacatl's sister was married to Moquihuix of Tlatelolco, who was a collateral descendant of the Tepanec royal family. Therefore it seems that Tlacaelel's policy was intended to create a compromise between the Colhua political establishment of Tenochtitlan and the Tepanec political elite of Tlatelolco. However, if this was really the main objective, we must conclude that Tlacaelel's policy ended in failure. Already in the second year of Axayacatl's government severe tension arose between the ruling Tenochca faction and the Tlatelolcas under Moquihuix. The historical sources give several reasons for the enmity between the two princes, who originally must have had very good relations, for Moquihuix named his first son Axayacatl. The rift is said to have originated in two incidents. 1. During a campaign against the inhabitants of what is now southeastern Puebla and central Veracruz, Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina ordered from Tenochtitlan the end of the military operations, although the enemies were not totally beaten. The three grandsons of Motecuzoma, the sons of his daughter Atotoztli, named Tizoc, Ahuitzotl, and Axayacatl, obeyed the order of their royal grandfather, but Moquihuix went on fighting with his troops alone and achieved an overwhelming victory. This spoiled the relations between Moquihuix and Axayacatl, his obedient brother-in-law (Torquemada 1975:1,161-2). 2. A quite different reason was the unhappy marital life of Moquihuix and Axayacatl's sister. Moquihuix mistreated his royal Aztec spouse and preferred relations with a concubine, the daughter of a prominent fellow party member in the Tlatelolcan Tepanec faction, named Teconal (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:117-20). Undoubtedly there were other and more basic reasons for the rising confrontation. The strong economic position of Tlatelolcan merchants and the leading market of this city must have been a factor, for immediately after the defeat of Moquihuix's faction, the guild of Tenochcan merchants became very important also and obtained

Divisions within the Aztec royal family a leading position in the statewide corporative organization of merchants and markets. Moreover, the old rivalry between the Tepanec-oriented nobles and the Colhua-Aztec faction seems to have played a role again. Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina and Tlacaelel had tried to overcome the old differences by creating matrimonial bonds between the two factions, but in the case of Moquihuix, the result was not satisfactory in the long run. In 1473 hostilities between the two factions broke out. They began with a small incident in the market and ended with the storming of the main temple of the city by Axayacatl's troops. After its defeat, Tlatelolco was governed by military commanders, and the traditional chieftainship was reduced to the calpolli level. At the time of the election of Motecuzoma Xocoyotzin in 1502, an opposing faction favored his half-brother Macuilmalinaltzin. Shortly after Motecuzoma came to power this political question was solved by intrigue: the new king plotted with his Tlaxcaltec counterparts in the Flowery War, arranging for the capture and ritual sacrifice of his rival (Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975,11,179-81, Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:137). Various factional divisions within the Aztec royal family manifested themselves during the Spanish conquest. At the beginning of contact with the Spaniards, factions of soft-liners around Motecuzoma and Cacama of Tetzcoco and of hard-liners around Cuitlahuac, Cuauhtemoc, and Matlatzincatl immediately formed. Later on Cacama changed sides, but by then it was too late. Motecuzoma and Cacama were eliminated by the Spaniards. Two sons of Motecuzoma were killed by the Aztecs in the famous battle of the Noche Triste, but their sister Tecuichpo was carefully rescued. She was first made to marry her uncle Cuitlahuac and later her father's nephew, Cuauhtemoc. In this way the last two kings legalized their positions by inter-marriage with the opposed factions. It was the traditional Mesoamerican solution again! Matlatzincatl was cut down in the battle of Otumpan after he had been named as Cihuacoatl, coruling with Cuitlahuac. The latter died of smallpox after eighty days of government at the end of 1520. Cuauhtemoc succeeded him as tlatoani, and a descendant of Tlacaelel, Tlacotzin, was named Cihuacoatl. In February 1521 they eliminated a number of sons of the late Motecuzoma with the intent of destroying the faction of the soft-liners. Obviously they were successful, for the political establishment remained firmly united until the dreadful end of the empire in August 1521 and even afterwards until the execution of the Aztec rulers in Tabasco in 1525. Cuauhtemoc had a Tlatelolcan mother. As son of

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Ahuitzotl, who was the third of his brothers to occupy the Aztec throne, under normal circumstances he would never have been elected by the Colhua faction to succeed his uncle, Cuitlahuac, since it was a strong Toltec and Colhua tradition that, after the reigns of brothers, the new generation of rulers was elected from the descendants of the brother who had ruled first. This meant that the children and grandchildren of Axayacatl and Motecuzoma Xocoyotzin had better rights than Cuauhtemoc. But there was another question. Cuauhtemoc represented the more Tepanec-influenced city of Tlatelolco and was therefore not much liked by the Colhua-oriented faction in Tenochtitlan. Once more the same solution was tried by his marriage with his niece Tequichpo; Cuauhtemoc tried to bridge the gap between the two factions. But confidence in the effectiveness of this solution was limited. Therefore a number of nephews and uncles had to be eliminated. This very severe, and on this scale rather rare performance of political murder, must have been caused by the exceptionally difficult and tense situation of the Spanish Conquest. In the agony of the Aztec empire, we may contemplate a dramatic exaggeration of the traditional political tensions and factional disputes. It is interesting that in the confrontation with the Spanish invaders the factions that guarded the Tepanec traditions were on the side of the hard-liners from the very beginning. The Colhua factions, on the contrary, at first favoured overwhelmingly the soft-liner approach to the Spanish problem. Recapitulating, it may be concluded that in the factional disputes within the Aztec royal family and the political establishment in general the parties recruited their supporters chiefly on the basis of groupings of maternal relatives and frequently followed the mainstream of the Colhua-Tepanec traditional opposition. Most probably the factional conflicts within the royal family contributed to interweaving the higher levels of different ethnic groups and in this sense they had a positive effect on Aztec political integration. In considering this point we have to remember immediately the particular Mesoamerican system of family relations. That system allowed the members of the noble families to choose to affiliate with kin groups through either the paternal or maternal linkages. Thus it was possible to change sides when the political situation demanded it. Therefore it is of special interest that after the Spanish conquest the designation "Aztecatl," which was not popular with the new rulers, almost completely disappeared in a few decades. Because of the fact that this designation was almost exclusively in use in higher levels of society, it was easy for the "Aztecs" to dis-

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appear in the social group of their mothers. Only some stubborn and proud individuals, with a strong feeling for tradition and perhaps a surreptitious longing for restoration of the pre-Spanish state, for example, historianprince Alvarado Tezozomoc, went on to identify themselves as "Aztec." And just as this occurred in colonial times, it possibly happened time and again in the preSpanish period. This does not mean that the various corporate groups lost their cultural or subcultural identity. Their own gods, their rituals, their festive celebrations, their own paraphernalia, their own traditions, and their own organizational particularities were carefully cherished. Therefore ethnicity survived in spite of the mingling of the blood and social adoption. By these

methods ethnic tension often would have been overcome or would have died away because of the conflicting loyalties of their chiefs and leaders. The ColhuaTepanec controversy, however, continued to exist in colonial times and indigenous rulers of Tenochtitlan and Tlacopan belonged sometimes to one and sometimes to the other side. Acknowledgments

I thank my dear friend and colleague Dr. Rob de Ridder for his critical observations in relation to the English text of this article.

10 Alliance and intervention in Aztec imperial expansion FREDERIC HICKS

The growth of the Empire of the Triple Alliance, or Aztec empire, is recounted in a number of sources, and all of them describe how it was built through wars of conquest waged by the allied cities of Tenochtitlan (modern Mexico City), Tetzcoco (Texcoco), and Tlacopan (Tacuba). These conquests began with the overthrow of the Tepanec empire in 1428, and did not end until the Spanish conquest in 1519. The Mexica of Tenochtitlan and their allies fought and vanquished other states, and demanded tribute and submission as a price for peace. Yet recent analyses have also given us a picture of the empire as an alliance between the ruling elites of the subject states and those of the imperial centers, in which the former derived substantial benefits from being in the empire. They were dependent on the continued patronage of the imperial rulers (Brumfiel 1983), but they were given valuable gifts by these same rulers, they participated with them in lavish feasts, they received lands, and they could count on imperial support as they exploited the common people of their own realms (Smith 1986, Calnek 1982). They retained considerable autonomy, including the command of their own military force, and Hassig (1985:92ff) has characterized the empire as "hegemonic." A question immediately arises. If the ruling elites of the subject states derived such benefits from being in the empire, why was it necessary to wage war against them to force them into it? Part of the answer may lie in the processes by which states were incorporated into the empire, and the ways they were politically restructured once they were in it. In this paper, I will examine the processes involved in the subjugation of three states: Cuauhtitlan (in the modern State of Mexico north of

Mexico City), Tollan (modern Tula, Hidalgo), and Tepeyacac (modern Tepeaca, Puebla). All of these were in or near the core area of the empire, and were brought under imperial domination relatively early: Cuauhtitlan and Tollan during the reign of Itzcoatl (1427-40), who initiated the cycle of conquests, and Tepeyacac during the reign of his successor, Motecuzoma I (1440-69). Military force was involved in all three cases, but it was more than simply an attack by the imperial forces on those of another state, resulting in the defeat and surrender of the latter. What we find is that the imperial forces intervened in local or internal conflicts, supporting one side or faction against the other.l If the intervention was successful, it was the nobles of the favored faction, not all nobles, who benefited from being in the empire, and their benefits came at the expense not only of their commoners, but also of other nobles. The favored nobles, as Brumfiel (1983:273^1) points out, became the most powerful in their domain, but also the most dependent on the Triple Alliance, for only with its backing could they retain their power. The traditional historical sources such as Duran (1967), Alvarado Tezozomoc (1975), Alva Ixtlilxochitl (1975-7), Torquemada (1975), and others commonly cited in studies of the empire, were written from an imperial perspective and focus on the military aspects of conquest. They provide very few data on the local political dynamics which were equally important. For that, we must turn to sources from the subject states, or written from their standpoint. We have relatively few such sources, and the three cases described here may not be typical. Yet an empire as extended as that of the Aztec, in which the population of the subject polities eventually came to be so much greater than that of the imperial centers, must have had to rely heavily on "indirect rule," as did the British and French empires of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and indirect rule requires a cooperative native elite in the subject states. The three cases illustrate one way in which conquest led to indirect rule and a cooperative elite was brought into being. Although indirect or "hegemonic," Aztec rule was, in Doyle's terms, "formal" rather than "informal" (Doyle 1986:36-40 and passim). There was little ambiguity as to whether a given polity was or was not part of the empire. Subject states had specific obligations to the imperial centers that other states did not have: they were expected to provide military assistance when asked, to furnish draft labor {coatequitl) for occasional special projects, and to participate with the imperial rulers in periodic "consumption rituals." In addition, certain communities 111

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Cronica Mexicayotl (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1975: par. 122-3) lists an Ometochtli, which is probably the same person, but explains that he was a son of Acamapichtli who had been sent to Tollan to be its king, but died as soon as he got there, so his brother Cuetlachtzin took his place. This source lists an Ixehuatzin as the first king, preceding Ometochtli. I would infer from this that Zozoma teuctli was not actually a king (tlahtoani), and that his mission in Tenochtitlan was to establish a legitimate royal dynasty in Tollan, which could only be done by marriage with a royal house whose legitimacy was well established. Tenochtitlan was at this time not a major power, only a subordinate ally of Azcapotzalco, but it did have its own royal lineage, and many kings and lords of the region sought marital ties with it {Relacion de la Genealogia 1971:275). However, if the Ixehuatzin listed in the Cronica Mexicayotl (but not in other sources) was indeed reigning at that time, Zozoma's mission may indicate some sort of factional dispute or other political instability. Tollan's incorporation into the empire began almost immediately after the overthrow of the Tepanec and the establishment of the Triple Alliance, when the Tenochca king Itzcoatl intervened militarily in the affairs of Tollan. We are told that in the time of the fourth king of Tollan, whose name was Acamapichtli (not to be confused with the earlier Tenochca king of that name), there was discord among the nobles, and civil war. Itzcoatl sent his soldiers to aid one faction, and when it was over Itzcoatl had possession of lands in fifteen named places in the Tollan region. These were the ten estates that Cuetlachtzin had received, plus five others (Rosas Herrera 1946:159). Acamapichtli reigned from 1431 until 1436, and according to the Anales de Tula (Barlow 1949), there followed an interregnum of seven years, during which Tollan had no king. It is too bad we do not know more about the "discord" during Acamapichtli's reign. The fact that his rule was followed by an interregnum suggests that the faction Itzcoatl favored was not that of the king (it was not uncommon for the Aztec to depose a ruler and replace him with a regent). In any case, the intervention had the effect of bringing Tollan into the empire. It was done not by waging a war of conquest against the united forces of Tollan, but by aiding one faction over another in an internal dispute. The faction that emerged victorious owed its victory to Tenochtitlan. It is not surprising that Itzcoatl should have been given many estates, as a reward or a price for his help, from which he could draw tribute. To be sure, two-thirds of these estates had

of commoners were designated to provide goods, labor, and/or services, as tribute to the imperial centers or elsewhere as directed, under the supervision of a staff of imperial tribute collectors or calpixqueh (sing, calpixqui). While the rulers of subject states doubtless enforced this obligation of their people, I believe there is evidence that, at least in the core area of the empire, this tribute was not given by the entire population of the subject state, but only by some of the commoners, and that it was not even handled by nobles of the local ruling dynasty (Hicks 1984a: 156; 1984b:242-3). In any case, by these criteria, Tollan, Cuauhtitlan, and Tepeyacac were clearly in the empire. Tollan

The fullest data on Tollan as part of the empire come from the proceedings of a sixteenth-century legal case involving, on the one hand, Don Pedro Moctezuma Tlacahuepantzin and his mother Dona Maria Miahuaxochitl, and on the other, the principales (Indian nobles) of Tollan (AGN Vinculos 256/1; a brief but significant portion of these proceedings has been published, translated from the Latin, by Rosas Herrera [1946]). Other sources provide some additional data, but Late Postclassic Tollan receives very little mention in the standard historical sources. In the proceedings of this legal case, Don Pedro and Dona Maria describe the establishment of the first formal relations between Tollan and Tenochtitlan, which occurred well before the formation of the Triple Alliance. According to their account, some time in the fourteenth century a king of Tollan, whose name is given as Zozoma teuctli, sent emissaries to Tenochtitlan, where Acamapichtli then reigned, and proposed to "tomar amistad y parentesco" with him (i.e., to form a marital alliance). The proposal was accepted, and Acamapichtli's son Cuetlachtzin married Zozoma's daughter Xiloxochitl and went to live in Tollan, where he was given ten estates by Zozoma. After the death of his father-in-law, Cuetlachtzin became king of Tollan (AGN Vinculos 256/1: ff. 15r-16r). When the sources give the succession of kings in the Late Postclassic dynasty of Tollan, they all include Cuetlachtzin, as either the second or third king. The name of his predecessor is given as Zozoma teuctli by both sides in the sixteenth-century case at some points (AGN Vinculos 256/1: ff. 15r, 15v, 319v), but as Tochtzin by the principales of Tollan at another point in the case (Rosas Herrera 1946:159) and in the Anales de Tula (Barlow 1949), which states only that he died in 1394. The

Alliance in Aztec imperial expansion belonged to his own brother Cuetlachtzin (Itzcoatl was also a son of Acampichtli of Tenochtitlan), but Cuetlachtzin lived in Tollan, and when these estates served him, their harvests and the services of their commoners did not leave Tollan; serving Itzcoatl, they presumably did. It is also to be inferred that from that time on, the kings of Tollan needed the continued backing of Tenochtitlan in order to stay in power. In return for such support, they could hardly refuse the occasional request to provide military help, and did provide it when the empire later went to war against Coaixtlahuaca (Duran 1967: chapter 22).

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had already begun the revolt that would topple the Tepanec empire and give rise to the empire of the Triple Alliance. Troops under Nezahualcoyotl of Tetzcoco entered Toltitlan and drove the Tepanec from Cuauhtitlan and the surrounding region {Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1938: par. 941-3; Alva Ixtlilxochitl 19757:1, 384). After the defeat of the Tepanec, Tecocohuatzin assumed control of Cuauhtitlan, and began a restructuring of his realm, but he died in 1433, after ruling for only four years. His successor, Ayactlacatzin, divided up some of the land of the city so as to reward people with land grants. He took some lands for himself, and evidently also set aside some to produce tribute for the Cuauhtitlan empire, because men from Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco The only detailed source of data on Cuauhtitlan is the came to oversee the placement of boundary markers well-known Anales de Cuauhtitlan (1938), although it is {Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1938: par. 968-74). Significantly, mentioned occasionally in other sources. Hodge (1984) these lands were in Otlazpan, Tepoxalco, and Tehuilhas presented an excellent synthesis of the material on loyocan, whose leaders had supported the Tepanec, but Cuauhtitlan, but she does not examine in detail the Huehuetoca was spared, as a reward for its loyalty. The lands taken became coatlalli, a term that Lehmann (in process by which it was brought into the empire. Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1938:234) relates to coatequitl Cuauhtitlan had been fighting the Tepanec of Azcapotzalco off and on for twenty-two years before the (draft labor). I infer that by this process, lands were set Tepanec finally pushed their way into the city in 1430, aside to provide tribute for Tenochtitlan (and also, defeated it, and planted magueyes in its market plaza. interestingly, for Tlatelolco, which was still a separate Prior to this, Cuauhtitlan's king Xaltemoctzin, who city at this time), in addition to lands the king of ruled from 1390 until his death at the hands of the Cuauhtitlan took for himself. This land-taking apparTepanec in 1408, had brought many towns under his ently imposed hardship on the nobility of the affected control, including Tepotzotlan, Tepoxaco, Toltepec, towns as well as on the commoners, since Huehuetoca Coyotepec, Cuauhtlaapan, Huehuetoca, Citlaltepec, was spared as a reward. As time went on, additional Tzompanco, and Otlazpan. Some of these had formerly lands in Cuauhtitlan were taken and distributed to been subject to the city of Xaltocan. In 1395, he placed Mexica nobles, and eventually even Huehuetoca lost titled noblemen as governors over many of these places lands. The Mexica rulers also made changes in Cuauh{Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1938: par. 469-73, 629-41). When titlan's political structure, bringing it more firmly the Tepanec war broke out, most of these towns and into the political and economic system dominated by others in the region supported the Tepanec, and when Tenochtitlan {Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1938: par. 1022, people of Cuauhtitlan tried to flee from the invaders, 1264-71; Hodge 1991). they were refused asylum everywhere but in Huehuetoca. As was the case with Tollan, Tenochtitlan and TetzThere the king of Cuauhtitlan, whose name was Tezo- coco (it was not yet a triple alliance) did not actually zomoc (not to be confused with the Tepanec king of that conquer Cuauhtitlan. They didn't have to; they made an name), committed suicide {Anales de Cuauhtitlan alliance with Tecocohuatzin, which was respected by his 1945:43-4; Hodge 1984:64^8). successor Ayactlacatzin, to support him not only With this background, it is not surprising that when against the Tepanec, but also against those nobles in Tenochtitlan and Tetzcoco joined forces to overthrow Cuauhtitlan who had sided with the Tepanec. As a the Tepanec, they found a ready ally in Cuauhtitlan. reward, the rulers of Tenochtitlan (and probably also of After the death of their king Tezozomoc, the people of Tetzcoco) were given lands that had formerly served Cuauhtitlan named a new king, Tecocohuatzin, and those nobles. This must have exacerbated tensions installed him in the palace but, says the Anales, they did within Cuauhtitlan, making Ayactlacatzin and his folnot inform Azcapotzalco, only Tenochtitlan. I would lowers all the more dependent on the empire to retain infer that it was done in consultation with the king of their power. Tenochtitlan who, in alliance with the king of Tetzcoco,

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divided Cuauhtinchan into five states, giving to the king of Tepeyacac some towns that had formerly belonged to Before the Aztec conquest, Tepeyacac was part of other kings. These towns were charged with producing Cuauhtinchan, a loosely structured confederation whose tribute for the empire (compare the similar procedure in rulers recognized the hegemony of Cholula, where they Cuauhtitlan), and presumably it was the responsibility received their investiture (Historia Tolteca-Chichimeca of the kings of Tepeyacac, who were cooperative and 1976: par. 372, Olivera 1978:86, Reyes Garcia 1978:81). reliable, to enforce this obligation {Historia ToltecaThe accounts of Alvarado Tezozomoc (1975: chapter 27) Chichimeca 1976:par. 367-79, 384-8, Reyes Garcia and Duran (1967: chapter 18) give one version of the 1978:32, 35-8, Olivera 1978:80, 88-9, Martinez 1984:52). conquest of Tepeyacac, but many other sources are also But they did not have to oppress their own peasants to available. For the Cuauhtinchan area in general we have do so. The commoners obligated to do the actual work the Historia Tolteca-Chichimeca (1976), and a detailed of producing the tribute were not their traditional substudy by Reyes Garcia (1977) based on this and other jects, but subjects of other Cuauhtinchan lords. Those documents, many of which he has published (1978). lords lost control over many of the peasants who would Olivera (1978) has a study of Tecalli (Tecalco) based on otherwise have formed part of their labor force. The archival material, while Tepeyacac itself has been the chronicles record the displeasure of at least one Cuauhsubject of especiallyfinestudies by Martinez (1984; n.d.), tinchan lord (Historia Tolteca-Chichimeca 1976:par. which also make use of many unpublished sources. 384); they also tell us that the Mexica placed several While Alvarado Tezozomoc and Duran explain the con- lords in positions of power in Cuauhtinchan, which quest by their favorite causus belli, the mistreatment of likewise displeased others (Reyes Garcia 1978:87, 98). merchants, these more detailed local sources show that it As a result of this and other measures, such as the was really more complicated than that. establishment by the Mexica of an important market What seems to have happened was that, from around there, Tepeyacac came to be the principal city of the 1458, one of the kings of Tepeyacac had been carrying region, and its kings the most powerful (Martinez out aggressive actions against other kings of Cuauhtin- 1984:52, 78-9). But there must have been resentment chan. Acatzinco was reduced to dependent status, and against them from many quarters, and only with the Tecalco, the city of Cuauhtinchan, and Totomihuacan support of the Triple Alliance could they retain their were attacked. Finally, leaders of Cuauhtinchan and power. Tecalco went to Tenochtitlan to ask for military aid against Tepeyacac. The help was granted, and in 1466 Tepeyacac was defeated (Martinez 1984:46-7, 51, Histo- Other cases ria Tolteca-Chichimeca 1976:220-4). Martinez (n.d.) These three cases are certainly not unique, but we have thinks it may have capitulated without a fight, and that, less satisfactory data on what appear to have been if so, it was possibly because when the Mexica armies similar processes in other regions. According to Alvaarrived, its forces were awayfightingother enemies else- rado Tezozomoc (1975:chapter 47; cf. Duran 1967:chapwhere. Although I have no evidence, I would like to hold ter 35), the conquest by the Triple Alliance of much of open the possibility that they made a deal with the the Toluca valley began as a response by King Axayacatl Mexica, because although they were called in to help of Tenochtitlan to a request from the king of Tenancingo Cuauhtinchan against Tepeyacac, it was Tepeyacac that for help against the kings of Toluca and Matlatzinco, eventually emerged as the principal city of the region who were menacing him. Duran adds that when this king under the Aztec. went to Tenochtitlan to make his request, he presented A Mexica calpixqui was placed in Tepeyacac, to head himself as Axayacatl's "loyal vassal," suggesting he was a tributary province that came to include all of Cuauh- ready to accept that status in return for help. (There are tinchan, and Tepeyacac was charged with providing other, somewhat different, accounts of this episode, labor and goods as tribute. But the kings of Tepeyacac which are summarized in Quezada Ramirez 1972:46-9.) had trouble providing the tribute demanded, because The conquest of Coaixtlahuaca, in the Mixteca, is prethere were no lands set aside for this purpose. They went sented in the "Cronica X" histories (Duran 1967:chapter to Tenochtitlan to ask Axayacatl, who by this time was 22; Alvarado Tezozomoc 1975:chapter 33) as having the Tenochca king, to make available the necessary been brought on by the killing of Mexican merchants, lands. Axayacatl sent five Mexica noblemen to Cuauh- but Torquemada (1975:bk. 2, chapters 48ff) tells a differtinchan to measure out the lands needed. They also ent story. He indicates there was some resentment Tepeyacac

Alliance in Aztec imperial expansion against Coaixtlahuaca's King Atonal for provoking the war and bringing in Tlaxcallans and Huexotzinca as allies; after the Aztec victory, Atonal was killed by some of his own people, who then went to Tenochtitlan and offered themselves as tributaries of Motecuzoma I (who was then the Mexica king). Torquemada's account suggests the possibility that there may have been preexisting internal divisions that the Aztec exploited, though we do not hear of them until after the Aztec conquest. Summary and implications

The three cases we have examined illustrate one way the Aztec were able to bring subject states into the empire without waging an all-out war against their united forces, and one way they were able to get a compliant local elite. In these cases, conquest began with an alliance between the Aztec rulers and the leaders of one faction in a local or internal dispute. Assuming the alliance was victorious, this leader became the most powerful lord in his subject state. He was, of course, dependent on the empire to hold on to his power, but he was still treated as an ally, not as a conquered subordinate. To be sure, it was an alliance between two parties of very unequal power, and in such cases alliance may often be hard to distinguish from hegemony. And in any case, the alliances were bilateral: each local ruler was allied individually with the imperial ruler, so while the imperial ruler had many allies, each local ruler had only one. The alliances were, of course, only between elites (Smith 1986). Not only did such alliances enable the elite to exploit their commoners more intensely, by providing armed support for a lord whose people were tempted to rebel, but they virtually required them to do so. The imperial rulers demanded tribute, in goods and labor, which had to be provided by these commoners, as a task added to that of providing for their own subsistence. Moreover, it is likely that participation by the local elite in consumption rituals in Tenochtitlan required ever greater expenditures of wealth, which they had to extract from their commoners. To the extent that the Aztec empire expanded by means of such alliances, it is logical that it should rely on "indirect rule" and take the form that Hassig (1985) called "hegemonic." That is, the imperial centers exercised control over states that were allowed to retain their own native political leaders and their own laws and customs, once the imperial forces had made such changes in their political leadership and structure as

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were necessary to insure their continued loyalty and cooperation. Over time, the Aztec often imposed additional changes, and made additional land redistributions, thereby binding the subject states ever more tightly into the economic and political structure dominated by Tenochtitlan. Of course not all conquests took this form; such golden opportunities for intervention did not always present themselves. Sometimes it was necessary to wage a bitter war of conquest against a united enemy. Chalco provides the best-known example of a state where the Aztec found no highly placed collaborators, and had to wage a long and bitter war against a united resistance. When victory wasfinallyachieved, the Aztec deposed all local rulers, and for twenty-two years Chalco was ruled by a series of lesser nobles who were appointed by the Tenochca king, and who served as cuauhtlahtoqueh or regents. Yet Chalco was eventually made into a cooperative client state, by changing the political structure and the lines of royal succession so that when its royal seats were finally restored the kings that occupied them were loyal and compliant (Chimalpahin 1889:113, 152-6, Durand-Forest 1981:164-7, Hodge 1984:45-6, 51-2). Rebellions were, of course, fairly frequent, and many states had to be re-conquered. For one thing, lands and commoners assigned to serve the empire might otherwise be serving the local ruler, and after a long period of internal peace and increasing prosperity and power, these rulers might be motivated to abrogate their obligations to the empire, and re-direct the labor of the commoners to their own benefit, as the king of Cuauhnahuac (Cuernavaca) did in 1452 (Smith 1986:79, 82). Moreover, despite the material benefits to a local ruler that came from integration into the empire, it required accepting a clearly subordinate status, and the loss of the dignity he or his predecessors previously enjoyed as independent kings. In addition, the strategy of intervening on the side of one noble faction against others meant that some nobles suffered a loss of lands, subjects, and power under the empire, and must often have been motivated to rebel, against both their local ruler and the empire, again after a period of peace led them to think they might be successful. There may also have been rebellions by commoners, provoked by intensified exploitation. Direct evidence of this is negligible, but such rebellions have in many times and places taken the form of commoners rallying behind a leader, often a high-status nobleman building a power base, who promises to improve their condition if he wins (Adas 1981, Scott 1985:333). These would be hard to detect in the kind of historical sources we have for Mesoamerica.

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In summary, most if not all empires must develop a cooperative native elite in the states that they conquer, and the way this is done varies with the way the empire is formed. In the cases examined here, a key ingredient was the alliance between the rulers of the Triple Alliance and some, but not all, of the rulers of the states that would be incorporated into the empire. These states were brought quite gently into the empire, and one might argue that they were not really conquered at all. Their rulers were simply given military aid, in return for which they gave the lands, labor, gifts, and occasional military service that their patrons, the imperial rulers, requested. As time passed, the Triple Alliance rulers exercised more and more control over the subject states, but so long as local rulers were cooperative they enjoyed wealth and power

within their domain. The alliance ingredient was not present in all cases, and when it was not, true wars of conquest took place. States brought into the empire in that way may have been treated differently at first, but the case of Chalco shows that even so, an effort was made through political restructuring to create the form of an alliance. Notes 1 Many of the polities of ancient Mexico were rather loose confederations, headed by several kings who often had their headquarters in different cities (Hicks 1986:42-5); hence, the difference between an internal and an external conflict was not always very sharp.

11 Political factions in the transition from Classic to Postclassic in the Mixteca Alta BRUCE E. BYLAND and JOHNM. D. POHL

Mixteca Alta. It was not the capital of a centralized state. As de Tocqueville (1956:64-5) recognized, the centralization of some governmental functions does not require the centralization of all governmental functions. In the Mixteca Alta, connections between various towns, faction-like units, or peer polities provided a framework of mutual obligation in some aspects of government but did not impinge upon others. The absence of a single central authority did not plunge the Mixteca Alta into the abyss of factional strife. The Postclassic period was not a period of political chaos, ending only when order was imposed by the Aztec state. Rather, the Classic to Postclassic transition saw the excision of central control from the great Classic centers and its refiguring within small Postclassic confederations. Factionalism in the Mixtec historical codices

Introduction

Discussion of factional politics often focuses on its divisive and transient nature. Factions are said to appear for the purpose of contesting particular issues (Lewellen 1983:109) and to disintegrate when these issues are resolved. Relative calm then ensues until the next contest when divisive factions will form again. But factions can produce both conflict and cooperation. A faction is, after all, an alliance forged by individuals to improve their ability to compete (Brumfiel, Chapter 1). Furthermore, factions are not necessarily transient entities; they may occur as stable associations capable of addressing a range of issues. Such were the small, pre-Columbian states of the Terminal Classic through the Late Postclassic in the Mixteca Alta. Within the Mixteca Alta at the time of conquest, there were many largely autonomous Mixtec "kingdoms" (Dahlgren 1954; Spores 1967; Caso 1977-9; Pohl in press). Some of these polities dominated and influenced each other; for example, powerful Tilantongo dominated the decision making of several other communities. In some ways, these towns were like vassal states, but in other ways they remained autonomous. They had their own hereditary rulers, and they contracted separate alliances (Pohl 1991, in press). Paradoxically, Tilantongo, the most powerful state in the Mixteca at the time of the Spanish conquest, was a small, architecturally unimpressive site (Caso 1938). How was so much power concentrated in a place which had such a small population and so little substantial public architecture? Tilantongo exercised its power indirectly, through the construction of a regional alliance system that ordered social relations throughout the

The Mixtec codices are principally genealogical accounts, and as such they have been studied as histories, king lists, and assertions of rights to rulership (Caso 1960). We view the documents as recording the standing obligations between rulers based upon mutually recognized past events and genealogical ties. The stories were told to "fix" in ritual terms the status of long-term, complex political interrelationships following the breakup of Classic-period centralized authority, and to document the distribution of that authority among the decentralized groups which became Postclassic small states. This is apparent in the composition of Mixtec codices which depict large numbers of people, in contrast to the composition of documents from the Valley of Mexico, which show only a few individuals, each the ruler of a town. Thus, although events seem to focus on such personages as the patron deity 9 Wind Flint Helmet or the Lord 8 Deer Jaguar Claw, these individuals are merely the foci of political actions which involve numerous Postclassic communities. The genealities legitimated institutionalized political affiliation and mutual interdependence among the decentralized elite. Our archaeological surveys in the Tilantongo and Jaltepec regions provide new data for interpreting the codices, particularly the Codex Zouche-Nuttall (Fig. 11.1). This document can now be interpreted as a record of indigenous factionalism as perceived by the Postclassic Mixtec. Three episodes of factionalism

Three episodes of factional politics in the TilantongoJaltepec region are of particular interest because they can be traced in both the Codex Zouche-Nuttall and the 117

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Nochixtlan Valley

Fig. 11.1 Southern Nochixtlan Valley showing locations of places mentioned in text. Our survey area is indicated by a line enclosing Tilantongo and Jaltepec.

From Classic to Postclassic in the Mixteca Alta archaeological record. The Codex Zouche-Nuttall begins with a lengthy discussion of the War in Heaven, which saw the final dissolution of the Classic period political geography of the region. Next, the rise to power of Lord 8 Deer Jaguar Claw in Tilantongo established Postclassic patterns of power and authority. Finally, the genealogical pages of the Zouche-Nuttall Obverse connect these earlier events with the Late Postclassic period when the codex was painted. During this period, relations between the Mixteca Alta and the Valley of Oaxaca were reestablished. We will focus on the first and third episodes. Episode 1: the War of Heaven

The War of Heaven is shown on pages 3 and 4 and pages 20 and 21 of the Zouche-Nuttall Obverse and on pages 3 and 4 of the Codex Bodley. An insightful analysis of this conflict has been published by Emily Rabin (1979). The war lasted at least twenty-eight years. Although the major protagonists are not clearly defined, there were four factions of belligerents. One faction was dominated by 8 Wind Flint Eagle, a ruler of Suchixtlan-Hill of the Monkey, the archaeological site of Cerro Jazmin in the northern Nochixtlan Valley (Spores 1972, Smith 1973a, Byland and Pohl in press). Lord 8 Wind is also associated with the Hill of the Rain Deity, the archaeological site of Yucunudahui (Caso 1938, Spores 1972, Jansen 1982, see Fig. 11.1). Lord 8 Wind is the patriarch who, on the first page of Zouche-Nuttall, is given two places of birth: along the rivers of Apoala (Jansen 1982) and in a cave near the village whose name in the codex is Red and White Bundle. This apparently alludes to two myths concerning the origin of the Mixtec people. In the late sixteenth century, the Dominican, Antonio de los Reyes (1976 [1593]: i-ii), recorded that the Mixtec people were born from trees growing near rivers at Apoala (see Jansen 1982). But he also relates another origin story in which the "Men of the Earth," the Tay Nuhu, who were the "true Mixtec," emerged from "the Center of the Earth" called Anuhu, meaning "Place of the Nuhu." In his role as patriarch, Lord 8 Wind is depicted on Zouche-Nuttall 2 as a Yaha Yahui priest with his eagle (Yahd) costume and a maguey plant (Yavui or Yahui) (Pohl in press). He is attended by four groups of four lords as he founds the new institutions of authority. He is awarded ten subject communities, and lights the first fire in the year 3 Reed. A second faction was led by 12 Lizard who was a lord of Hill of the Wasp, the archaeological site of Yucu Yoco in the southern Nochixtlan Valley (Pohl and

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Byland 1990, Byland and Pohl 1990, in press; Pohl 1991; see Fig. 11.1). Lord 12 Lizard's involvement is indicated by the depiction of him, together with his wife, 12 Vulture, and their sons, 4 House and 3 Monkey, as mummified sacrificial victims on Zouche-Nuttall 20. The Zouche-Nuttall passages indicate that 12 Lizard's kingdom, Hill of the Wasp, was allied with other communities including Red and White Bundle (Huachino), Place of Flints (Ndu Nu'uchi) and Hill of the Enclosure (Yucu Yuhua). All these communities lie in the southern Nochixtlan Valley (Caso 1960, Pohl and Byland 1990, Byland and Pohl in press). The third group was the Nuhu or Stone Men (Pohl in press), depicted by multicolored striping on the body, horns, large round eyes, and fangs. The Stone Men were possibly led by Lord 9 Wind Stone Skull who bears the distinctive body coloration and the volutes of the Stone Men on Zouche-Nuttall 23 and Vindobonensis Reverse 4. In Codex Bodley 4 V, Lord 9 Wind Stone Skull is shown as thefirstruler of Tilantongo. In Codex Bodley 3 IV, he is shown as either the brother or the ally of 1 Monkey, who was the first ruler of Mitlatongo (Relaciones Geograficas (1579-81) 1984:237-8). A fourth group are the Red and White striped people, shown descending from Place of Heaven on ZoucheNuttall 21 just before being captured by the culture hero, 9 Wind Flint Helmet. This group is not yet identified with a specific locale. Reyes (1976 [1593]:i-ii) states that the first Mixtec kings warred with and conquered the "Men of the Earth." M. E. Smith (1973b:65-71) identifies the Men of the Earth as the Stone Men in the codices. This suggests that 8 Wind Flint Eagle and 9 Stone Skull were major protagonists in the hostilities. And yet, archaeologically, the impact of the war was greatest on the second faction, a group of allied towns located in the southern Nochixtlan Valley (Fig. 11.2). Our survey revealed that all these sites share ceramics that are indicative of the political power of Monte Alban (Feinman 1980). Surrounding these sites, the abundance of Valley of Oaxaca style G-35 pottery is greater than in any other part of the Mixteca Alta. The G-35 ceramics are diagnostic of the Classic period Las Flores phase in this area. Elsewhere in the Mixteca, this phase is characterized by orange-painted cream wares or Teotihuacan Thin Orange (Spores 1972; Byland 1980). G-35 pottery is rare in the northern Nochixtlan Valley (Spores 1972) and in the Tamazulapan and Tejupan regions (Byland 1980), and it is uncommon from the area around Tilantongo (Byland and Pohl in press). These ceramic distributions suggest that the rulers of the southern Nochixtlan Valley

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Bruce E. Byland and John M. D. Pohl Yucu Yoco Hill of the Wasp Yucu Yuhua Hill of the Enclosure

Hill of Anute Hill of Jaltepec

Huachino Red and White Bundle Ndu Yuchi/ Toto Cuisi Hill of Flints/ White Rock

Fig. 11.2 Las Flores Phase (Classic period) occupation of Tilantongo and Jaltepec. Place of Flints fNdu Nu'uchij, Hill of the Wasp fYucu YocoJ, and Red and White Bundle fHuachinoj were allies in the War of Heaven. The war was fought against the "Men of the Earth." Both Hill of the Wasp and Hill of the Flints were abandoned at the end of the Las Flores Phase. had strong connections with Monte Alban during the Classic period. This suggestion is supported architecturally. Structures at Huachino include a distinctly Zapotec twochambered temple, a design which first appeared at Monte Alban in MA II, 100 BC-AD 100 (Flannery and

Marcus 1976:217). Such temples are unknown elsewhere in the Mixteca Alta; however, all the most important Formative and Classic period sites in the Valley of Oaxaca have this temple form. Its occurrence in the Mixteca Alta suggests a political connection between Huachino and Monte Alban during MA Illb/IV.

From Classic to Post classic in the Mixteca Alta The codices indicate that the War of Heaven resulted in the defeat of Hill of the Wasp and its ruling lineage. The place sign virtually disappears from the subsequent 500 years of genealogical reckoning. Archaeologically, Hill of the Wasp was abandoned, and the Hill of Flints nearly so. With the defeat of these two major allies, Red and White Bundle was weakened, but it maintained its links to the Valley of Oaxaca. The War of Heaven was resolved through the validation of the rights of the two surviving lords. On ZoucheNuttall 3 and 5, four lords visit a Stone Man named 5 Flower to make offerings and pay him reverence; a similar group of four lords do the same for 8 Wind (Mark King, pers. comm.). After this, 8 Wind is ceremonially blessed by the rain deity Dzahui. He then appears seated with his wife at Hill of the Monkey/Cerro Jazmin/Suchixtlan. By the end of the War of Heaven, Tilantongo allied itself with the survivors of Hill of the Wasp through the marriage of 9 Wind Stone Skull to Lady 5 Reed (Bodley 4 V). In a similar fashion, Red and White Bundle formed an alliance though the marriage of 12 Lizard Arrow Legs to 5 Reed's sister, 5 Jaguar (Bodley 4 I—II). In the aftermath of the war, 8 Wind and 9 Wind arranged a marriage between their children, Lady 2 Serpent and Lord 10 Flower, thus uniting Tilantongo and Suchixtlan/ Cerro Jazmin (Bodley 5-6 V) (Fig. 11.3). Herrera (1947:168) describes such arranged marriages between noble lineages, saying that a consultation among the "old ones" was first held to advise whether the match was proper. This statement suggests regularized patterns of alliance making. Even though alliances are formulated by the "old ones" in order to bind themselves into a system of mutual obligation and exchange, the full fruition of this exchange does not emerge until their grandchildren's generation (Hassig 1988). If during the lives of the second generation, the children perceive alternative opportunities that could better serve their own situation, they may block the alliance established by their parents and establish new alliances and new lines of inheritance. If this occurs, conflict could then be expected between the parents and their children. As we shall see, conflict did occur between the grandchildren of Lord 8 Wind. Lord 8 Wind strengthened the alliance between Tilantongo and Suchixtlan/Cerro Jazmin by marrying a second daughter, Lady 9 Wind to Lord 10 Eagle from Tilantongo, the son of 10 Flower and 2 Serpent, and hence 8 Wind's grandson. This couple took up residence at Jaltepec in order to extend the control of 8 Wind. Lord 10 Eagle's older brother, 12 Lizard (not the same

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person as 12 Lizard of Hill of the Wasp) succeeded to rule at Tilantongo. Lord 12 Lizard's son, 5 Movement, married his father's brother's daughter, 4 Death, the daughter of Lord 10 Eagle of Jaltepec. This couple was seated at an undistinguished place sign, attached to the sign of Jaltepec. This marriage further reinforced the alliance between Tilantongo and Jaltepec and provided continued support to the alliance between Tilantongo and Suchixtlan/Cerro Jazmin. Lord 5 Movement married a second time, moving to Red and White Bundle, a kingdom with no previous history of marital alliance to Tilantongo (Bodley 6 II). Lord 5 Movement is also shown seated at Hill of the Jewels with an arrow stuck into the place sign, indicating that this locale was conquered (Zouche-Nuttall 24). Whichever place was his main abode, the Red and White Bundle affiliation parallels a later Jaltepec and Red and White Bundle alliance formalized by the marriage of 10 Eagle's daughter, Lady 6 Monkey, and 11 Wind, a lord from Red and White Bundle. Lord 5 Movement of Tilantongo, who married into Jaltepec and affiliated with Red and White Bundle, had a son named 2 Rain Twenty Jaguars (Caso 1960). Lord 2 Rain Twenty Jaguars thus had a legitimate claim to Tilantongo since his grandfather, 12 Lizard, was lord there, and he may have claimed Jaltepec, since his father married into the ruling lineage there. But Lord 10 Eagle and Lady 9 Wind produced no surviving male heirs (their three sons were sacrificed, as depicted in the Codex Selden 5-6). Perhaps 2 Rain's claim to Tilantongo had been sullied by his father's relationship with Red and White Bundle. When he was six years old, 2 Rain Twenty Jaguars was directed by the patriarch 8 Wind into an alliance with sixteen lords at Ball Court Hill (also part of the Monkey/Cerro Jazmin/Suchixtlan compound place sign). Three days later a battle was fought at Jaltepec (Zouche-Nuttall 8, and Selden 6). Lord 2 Rain Twenty Jaguars was represented in this battle by 8 Wind's son, 3 Lizard Jeweled Hair. The attack on Jaltepec was repulsed and 3 Lizard was captured. Lord 10 Eagle had effectively denied any claims his great-nephew, 2 Rain, and his grandfather/father-in-law, 8 Wind, might have had to Jaltepec, despite the alliances that 8 Wind had arranged between Tilantongo and Hill of the Monkey/ Cerro Jazmin/Suchixtlan. Lord 10 Eagle of Jaltepec then forged an alliance with Red and White Bundle through the marriage of his daughter 6 Monkey to 11 Wind. This alliance secured for 10 Eagle a close connection to the powerful center of Monte Alban or its successor. Spores (1974) argues that marriages between ruling families were not fixed by prescriptive laws but were

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Bruce E. Byland and John M. D. Pohl 9 1 Vulture

4 Rabbit (Hill of the Wasp)

9 wind(Tilantongo)

8 Wind

• 9 5 Reed (Hill of the Wasp)

> 2 Gras!

1

-12 Lizard (Tilantongo)

-5 Movement-

9 10 Deer 1 3 Lizard (Hill of the Monkey)

1 2 Serpent

10 Flower.

9 4 Flint 9 4 Alligator

the Monkey)

10 Eagle _ (Jaltepec)

~$ 4 Death (Jaltepec)

- $ 9 Wind (Jaltepec)

12 Lizard — (Huachino)

- 9 5 Jaguar (Hill of the Wasp)

11 Wind (Huachino)

9 6 Monkey (Jaltepec)

2 Rain

8 Deer (Tilantongo)

Fig. 11.3

I 4 Wind

I 1 Alligator

Genealogical relationships of major characters in the War of Heaven and 8 Deer periods.

rather dependent upon the political exigencies of factions maneuvering for advantage. According to Spores (p. 304), "Great care and planning went into royal marriages to ensure the most advantageous alliances." Marriages were often among consanguineal kin (Dahlgren 1954:149-50, Spores 1974:304), usually a man with his sister's daughter, which perpetuated alliances between two royal families and their respective patrimonies. However, the marriages of 9 Wind's descendants diverge from this pattern. Lord 10 Eagle married his mother's sister, Lady 9 Wind, while the marriage of 2 Rain Twenty Jaguars to his step-mother's sister, Lady 6 Monkey never happened (Fig. 11.3). The alliance between Lords 9 Wind of Tilantongo and 8 Wind of Hill of the Monkey/Cerro Jazmin/Suchixtlan began when a man from Tilantongo married a Cerro Jazmin-Suchixtlan woman (10 Flower + 2 Serpent). Their elder son (12 Lizard) inherited Tilantongo while the younger son (10 Eagle) married his mother's sister (9 Wind) from Jazmin-Suchixtlan and went to reside in Jaltepec. The brothers now ruled Tilantongo and Jaltepec, and they continued the alliance by having their children marry (5 Movement of Tilantongo + 4 Death of

Jaltepec). To continue the pattern, a son from this marriage would next have married his mother's sister (6 Monkey) and have been seated in Tilantongo. Unfortunately, no such union took place. While Lord 5 Movement did have a son by another marriage, this son 2 Rain Twenty Jaguars was not the child of Lady 4 Death. His relationship to 6 Monkey was as her father's brother's son rather than as sister's son. Just as 8 Wind had his grandson 10 Eagle marry his daughter 9 Wind, so 10 Eagle might have done with his grandson and his daughter 6 Monkey. Clearly 2 Rain and 6 Monkey were in positions to continue the alliance, but they did not marry. Lord 2 Rain enlisted the aid of his great-great-grandfather, 8 Wind, the original formulator of the alliance, and his uncle 3 Lizard to attack 10 Eagle (Zouche-Nuttall 7-8 and Selden 6 II). It is possible that 2 Rain was trying to force the continuation of the alliance between Tilantongo and Jaltepec through either marriage with 6 Monkey or usurpation of 10 Eagle's position. The marriage of 6 Monkey to 11 Wind of Red and White Bundle clearly indicates that 10 Eagle had other alliance interests beyond those with Tilantongo. Perhaps, he was trying to assert his independence

From Classic to Postclassic in the Mixteca Aha

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Nuu Tnoo/ Huahi Andehui Tilantongo/ Temple of Heaven

Natividad

Fig. 11.4 Natividad phase (Postclassic period) occupation of Tilantongo and Jaltepec. Huachino was abandoned around AD 1101. Tilantongo became the most highly ranked Mixtec kingdom by AD 1500. Jaltepec shifted its settlement from a mountain top to adjacent low-lying ridges. The buffer zone created after the War of Heaven and 8 Deer periods is still maintained by Jaltepec and Tilantongo today. from his father 10 Flower, and his natal home of Tilantongo. Lord 10 Eagle's venture into this multi-generational alliance was effective. Despite the defeat and sacrifice of Lady 6 Monkey and Lord 11 Wind, and in competition with 11 Wind's children by another marriage, 10 Eagle's grandchildren, 4 Wind and 1 Alligator, were quite successful. According to Codex Colombino 16, Lord 4 Wind attended the assassination of 8 Deer (Troike 1974), and 1 Alligator was able to maintain the relationship between Jaltepec and the Zapotec lords of the Valley of Oaxaca who had been Red and White Bundle's allies (Whitecotton 1990). Episode 2: the 8 Deer Jaguar Claw Period Within a year of 2 Rain Twenty Jaguar's death, 8 Deer attacked Red and White Bundle and shattered the Jaltepec-Red and White Bundle alliance by killing both Lady 6 Monkey and Lord 11 Wind, and by marrying their son, 4 Wind, to his daughter (Troike 1974; Pohl in press). Lord 8 Deer seems to have held the alliance between Tilantongo and Jaltepec as more important than any special kinship rule. The rivalry between Red and White Bundle with their

Zapotec allies and the Rulers of Tilantongo and Suchixtlan ended with the utter defeat of the Red and White Bundle faction. Archaeologically, this is reflected in the abandonment of the entire area by AD 1100 (Fig. 11.4). Thus, ties between a Mixtec faction connected to Red and White Bundle and powerful rulers in the Valley of Oaxaca were broken. Further, these sites and their royal houses were destroyed by a competing Mixtec faction led by 8 Deer. Only 4 Wind survived, so that 8 Deer could tie this powerful adversary to his line of descent. Lord 4 Wind's brother, 1 Alligator, was given to Jaltepec (Selden 9 I), but he promptly disappeared from the dynastic reckoning of that town. Lord 8 Deer eliminated the intrusion of Red and White Bundle into an existing alliance scheme, reestablishing an earlier alliance by marrying 4 Wind to his own daughter. Beyond these local factional interests, there was an inter-regional dimension to the alliance because of Red and White Bundle's relationship with the Valley of Oaxaca. At this time, settlements in the Mixteca Alta relocated from the mountaintop sites that had been occupied during the Classic to lower piedmont locations. We suggest that the final breakup of Monte Alban as a political center capable of imposing its will on

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large numbers of people had a liberating effect in the Mixteca. Episode 3: the Late Postclassic

Ever since Robert Gallego's discovery of Tomb 1 at Zaachila, we have suspected that the royal house of that powerful Zapotec capital is portrayed in Zouche-Nuttall 33-35 (see Paddock 1983). The identification is supported through the observation that the calendrical names of the Zaachila kings in the Lienzo de Gueva correlate with the sequence of names in the ZoucheNuttall passages (Jansen 1989). The place sign for Zaachila bears elements that relate to names for the community. The main feature of the place sign is a large temple within which stands the patron deity 7 Rain (Fig. 11.5). In Nahuatl, Zaachila was called Teozapotlan or "Place of the God of the Zapotecs" (Relaciones Geogrdficas 1984:157); 7 Rain bears the costume attributes to the Aztec god Xipe Totec whom the Aztecs considered "the proper god of the

Fig. 11.5 Place sign of Zaachila, from Zouche-Nuttall 33.

Zapotecs" (Sahagun 1950-69: Bk. 1). Finally, we know that the Mixtec name for Zaachila was Tocuisi, an abbreviation of Toto Cuisi meaning "curved rock." A bent or curved rock is displayed behind the 7 Rain-Xipe temple in the Zouche-Nuttall place sign. The Zapotecs depicted in Zouche-Nuttall wear ethnic costumes comparable to those in the Lienzo de Guevea. Xipe was also known as Yopi, a Zapotec or Tlapanec term. The name of the Zapotec rain god was Cocijo. Three of the names or titles for the Zapotec lords on the Lienzo de Guevea are Yobicoxi, Cosiobi, and Cocijobii. As contractions of Cocijo and Yoobi, the terms may refer to the combination of costume elements worn by the Zapotec patron deity 7 Rain and by the lords from Zaachila.1 A dramatic portrayal of human sacrifice depicts the ritual assassination by 8 Deer of the last lords of Red and White Bundle (Zouche-Nuttall 83-4, Codex Becker 11-12). The sacrificial victim of the Codex Becker is clothed in tight-fitting red pants and shirt with a contrasting-color bottom border, nearly identical with the clothing of the Lienzo de Guevea kings. Given that Monte Alban Illb/IV attributes of Huachino, the site which we associate with Red and White Bundle, it seems that 8 Deer is both eliminating his local competition and closing out Zapotec influence by symbolically sacrificing these Mixtec lords in the guise of Zapotecs. If Lord 5 Flower, the patriarch of the Zouche-Nuttall royal line under discussion, is a Zapotec ruler, then his wife is Lady 4 Rabbit of Teozacoalco (Zouche-Nuttall 33 III). She is descendant of 8 Deer of Tilantongo and, therefore, a Mixtec woman who married a Zapotec lord. This ethnic translation is suggested by the Xipe face paint on the lower half of her face, complementing the Xipe face paint on the upper half of her husband's face. Their children established the ruling lines at Zaachila and Teozacoalco (Pohl 1991). One of their sons is 2 Dog Flint Band (Zouche-Nuttall 34 I) who is shown on the Mapa de Teozacoalco as an intruder who breaks the line of descent at Teozacoalco (Caso 1949). We suggest that he returned to Teozacoalco from his mother's adopted home of Zaachila. Lady 4 Rabbit was sent to Zaachila to ally Teozacoalco with the rulers of the Zapotec kingdom. They probably never thought that the issue of that alliance would return, as 2 Dog is shown doing on the Mapa, confronting a group of armed men and usurping control of his mother's home. Another line of Lord 5 Flower and Lady 4 Rabbit's children remained at Zaachila. Their descent begins with the Lady 10 Monkey and ends with Lord 6 Water

From Classic to Post classic in the Mixteca Alta (Zouche-Nuttall 34-5). This suggests that the Zapotec lineage of Zaachila as depicted in the Lienzo de Guevea and the Codex Zouche-Nuttall was descended from the Mixtec ruler 8 Deer Jaguar Claw. This lineage ended with the famous ruler of Zaachila and Tehuantepec, Lord Cosijoeza, portrayed on the Lienzo de Guevea (Pohl 1991).2 Both Tilantongo and Zaachila had interests in the ruling line at Teozacoalco. The most highly ranked lineage in the Mixteca Alta, at Tilantongo, and the most highly ranked lineage in the valley of Oaxaca, at Zaachila, were connected though their kinship with Teozacoalco. Clearly the factional interests of the noble families of each of these places were expressed in their maneuverings with their neighbors. In the time of Teozacoalco's Lady 4 Rabbit, a longdistance relationship was re-established between the Mixteca Alta and the Valley of Oaxaca which persisted several generations, at least until Lord 6 Water, the last recorded member of the Zouche-Nuttall Zaachila dynasty. Such a link had not apparently existed since the demise of the alliance between Monte Alban and the Red and White Bundle group in the Mixteca Alta. In this Classic and Late Classic relationship, the Mixtecs were clearly subordinate to Valley of Oaxaca overlords. However, in the Late Postclassic, the connection was maintained by more or less equal factions each seeking to improve its position in relation to its neighbors. It may be significant that the connection was made through Teozacoalco, which is strategically located in a river valley opening onto the arable lowlands of the Mixteca Baja and the powerful community of Tututepec. It is a gateway from the coast to both the Mixteca Alta and the Valley of Oaxaca. Tilantongo had close ties to Tututepec at the time of 8 Deer; 8 Deer may have ruled Tututepec before taking control of Tilantongo (Smith 1973a). The Valley of Oaxaca connects to Tilantongo via either Pefioles or Tlazoyaltepec, down to Teozacoalco. From Teozacoalco, the route goes either upstream to Tilantongo, in the heart of the Mixteca Alta, or downstream to Tututepec in the Mixteca Baja. Teozacoalco was located at a natural crossroads between three different environmental zones, and it profited from the exchange of ceramics, cotton, cloth, feathers, turquoise inlay, graphite, copper, and gold. The interests of Zapotec and Mixtec factional leaders in controlling access to these goods is clear, for exotic materials demonstrated the status of elites. To the extent that the rulers of Zaachila, Tilantongo, or Teozacoalco could limit access to such goods, they could control status and power locally. Their position in local fac-

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tional politics was enhanced when lower-ranking nobles found it necessary to come to them for the accoutrements which demonstrated their own social positions. Factional competition rooted in the Early Postclassic conflicts between Tilantongo, Jaltepec, and Huachino was later manifested in a Late Postclassic conflict between Zaachila and Cuilapan in the Valley of Oaxaca (see Caso 1966, Paddock 1983). While Tilantongo and Zaachila were linked through their common ties to Teozacoalco, Cuilapan appears to have constructed its own alliance with the Mixteca Alta through Etla to Jaltepec (and Yanhuitlan). Rabin (pers. comm.) notes that 6 Monkey appears on the Yale Document, a sixteenthcentury Zapotec genealogy that records a descent group linking Jaltepec, Cuilapan, and Mitla (Whitecotton 1983, 1990). Lord 6 Monkey's son, 1 Alligator, who mysteriously disappears from the Codex Selden, reappears in the Yale Document marrying into a community in the Etla Valley (Whitecotton 1983, 1990). Indeed, even today, the Zapotec community of Mazaltepec in the Etla Valley claims to have been founded by Jaltepec (Dennis 1987:53), and people from Jaltepec told us that their lands had once extended to the Etla arm of the Valley of Oaxaca. Conclusions: the role of factions in ancient Oaxaca We argue that the Codex Zouche-Nuttall is best understood as a record of the relationships between Late Postclassic Oaxacan polities. It is not a book which vindicates the rights to rule of any particular Mixtec lord. It rather serves as a sort of contract, a formal record of the past events and genealogical relationships which establish connections between the rulers of several towns at the time of its writing. It is history for political purpose. While historical events going back to about AD 940 are recorded, the thrust of the document is to legitimate the contemporary political scene. The recounting of factional interaction involving both the construction of alliances and the prosecution of warfare is part of an active political statement. Specifically, the three episodes discussed here establish the context of the alliance between Tilantongo and Zaachila, an alliance with a checkered past. The heroic War of Heaven and the 8 Deer period record past conflicts between present allies, and justify them as reasonable in their times. The genealogical relationship between the early rulers and the most recent Zapotec and Mixtec lords and ladies demonstrates that, despite earlier troubles, the communities now have reason for alliance. By this action, old wounds were healed. This "history"

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was used by the Late Postclassic rulers of Tilantongo, Teozacoalco, Zaachila, and Tehuantepec to define their mutual obligations. The Codex Zouche-Nuttall grounds the relationships between 6 Water of Zaachila, 5 Reed Twenty Jaguars of Teozacoalco, and other Oaxacan nobles in the last decades before the Spanish conquest. The political relationships among Mixtec and Zapotec communities operated at two levels. They functioned among the many like units within a region to create factions in competition and alliance. This is illustrated by the events connected with the War of Heaven and the 8 Deer period in the Zouche-Nuttall. Political relationships also functioned at the interregional level, bringing into association powerful factions from distant locations. The most powerful Mixtec polities are counterparts of the most powerful Zapotec polities. This level of factionalism is recorded in the genealogies of the Late Postclassic rulers of Mixtec and Zapotec towns. At another level, the codices also provide a record of internecine factionalism. In several instances when siblings might have vied for the right to rule a particular community, factional alliance and competition determined who should rule and who should not. In one such instance, 8 Deer Jaguar Claw formed an alliance with his elder half brother 12 Movement Bloody Jaguar and effectively excluded his other four siblings from the seat of power. In sum, the general cause of Mixtec factional competition was the organization of generally comparable, autonomous communities that were intricately interrelated. The absence of an overarching political hierarchy necessitated an alternative means of regulating interaction. Because Postclassic Mixtec communities were established through a long, complex, and indigenous process, their charters were broadly based. Each community had to establish its own political structure, its own productive capacity, its own network of exchange, and its own social organization. It had to control its internal organization and its external relationships with peer communities, and to pursue its more distant interests. These countervailing forces defined the field of factional interaction. In a different historical and ecological context, one particular faction

might have emerged quickly as dominant and disrupted the interaction pattern by establishing clear hierarchy. But in Postclassic Mixteca Alta, factional relations channeled the maneuverings of the many participants in the system and maintained some equity among them. Acknowledgments This research was conducted with the permission of the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia of Mexico in 1985 and 1987. The fieldwork was supported by the Professional Staff Congress, City University of New York. The authors are indebted to Elizabeth Boone and the Dumbarton Oaks Summer Fellowship program. Elizabeth Brumfiel and John Fox provided helpful suggestions. We thank our colleagues in Mixtec studies for their comments and suggestions. These include Mark King, Audrey Korelstein, John Monaghan, and Mary Elizabeth Smith, Ronald Spores, Nancy Troike, Edwina Williams, and Marcus Winter. We wish to express our deep admiration and respect for the Mixtec people of Tilantongo, Jaltepec, Diuxi, and Jaltepetongo without whose friendship and support none of our work would be possible. Notes 1 In this way, both Zapotec and Mixtec aristocracies succeeded in creating new forms of ethnicity that cross-cut the well-established definitions rooted in language and cultural behavior alone that continue today. While certain Zapotec factions bound themselves together through the emulation of a lineage patron like 7 Rain "Xipe Totec," certain Mixtec factions became known as the "children of Quetzalcoatl," and still others claimed descent from the Tolteca-Chichimeca culture hero Mixtecatl. 2 Marcus (1983c:301-8) believes that Zaachila lords of the Lienzo represent the children of Cocijoeza and not his ancestors. Jansen (1989) and Paddock (1983) argue that this perspective diverges from a more standard format in lienzos and maps in which a column of people is generally intended to represent a genealogy running from ancestors at the bottom to later descendants at the top.

12 Internal subdivisions of communities in the prehispanic Valley of Oaxaca

nity subdivisions generally in the Valley of Oaxaca, and especially subdivisions at the two sites, San Jose Mogote and Monte Alban, where subdivisions are most obvious. The final section summarizes trends in community segmentation in the Valley of Oaxaca and concludes that inter-community rather than intra-community divisions were probably more significant in the dynamics of society. Finally I compare the basis for same-level segmentation in the Valley of Oaxaca, Central Mexico, and the Maya area.

STEPHEN A. KOWALEWSKI

San Jose Mogote

This study examines archaeological and historical information on segmentation at the community level in the prehispanic Valley of Oaxaca. Some communities had internal, spatial subdivisions, though it is usually not possible with the present information to specify the basis on which these communities were subdivided. By and large, however, Valley of Oaxaca communities were politically centralized rather than segmental. Class, stratification, or status hierarchy distinctions pervaded Oaxacan and Mesoamerican societies generally. Elsewhere our settlement pattern project has written about problems in the archaeological identification of these class distinctions (Kowalewski, Feinman, and Finsten in press). In reality hierarchical distinctions between levels are intertwined with same-level distinctions, such as factions; nevertheless, I would like to treat just the same-level groupings in this chapter. The most significant same-level distinctions in Valley of Oaxaca society were not within communities; nor did kinship or ethnicity generate the major factions of society. Instead, on the whole, inter-community divisions were the major segments whose binding or separation was crucial to the dynamics of society. These inter-community fault lines contrast with the segmentary lineages proposed for the Maya area (Wallace and Carmack 1977, Fox 1987). In this respect Valley of Oaxaca society was more similar to that of Central Mexico than to Maya society. Yet the Valley of Oaxaca lacked the apparent emphasis on ethnic constituents seen in Postclassic Central Mexico. The remainder of this chapter provides support for the propositions I have just made. The next five sections describe the several lines of evidence bearing on commu-

Except for one head town, Valley of Oaxaca settlements of the period 1450-700 BC were almost always small hamlets. Within these hamlets there were differences in social rank (Whalen 1976), but the sites are so small that other subdivisions, such as lineage segments, are not evident or did not exist. In contrast San Jose Mogote, the head town of the Early and Middle Formative, was composed of spatially separate segments. The regional surface survey and more detailed studies by Flannery and Marcus show that San Jose Mogote consisted of several clusters of houses separated by unoccupied space (Flannery 1976; Flannery and Marcus 1983b; Kowalewski et al. 1989). The excavated materials from Early Formative San Jose Mogote suggest that its residential wards differed in complementary ways in craft specializations (PiresFerreira 1976), Olmec-style design motifs (Pyne 1976), and even specific activities involving local chipped stone (Parry 1987). Some of the smaller sites seem to have preferred ceramic motifs similar to those of one or another of the residential wards at San Jose Mogote (Pyne 1976). Despite the segregation of San Jose Mogote's residential wards in space and in artifact associations, the town apparently had but one civic-ceremonial focus (Flannery and Marcus 1983b); public facilities that were the scenes of socially integrative, civic-ceremonial activities were probably built for the whole community, not each residential ward. Parry (1987:110) suggests that craft production at San Jose Mogote may have become more centralized by the Middle Formative. It is tempting to conclude that Valley of Oaxaca society in the Early Formative had corporate descent groups integrated through ritual and political institutions at the head town. However, such an interpretation for the Valley of Oaxaca is not yet very specific or satisfactorily tested. Another unresolved question is how long corporate kin units, if such institutions existed in 127

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Fig. 12.1 Clustering in prehispanic settlements. The map shows Monte Albdn III A (c. AD 250-500) settlements in central Tlacolula, the eastern subregion of the Valley ofOaxaca. The size and shape of settlements are blacked in, except for sites smaller than two hectares, which for reasons of scale are depicted by small triangles. The heaviest lines enclose clusters of sites no farther apart than 500 m. Notice the fragmentation of settlement and the fact that most sites belong to a 500 m cluster. Medium-thick and broken lines represent clustering at 1000 m, 1500 m, and 2000 m intervals. Grid cells are 4 km on a side, the contour interval is 100 m, and north is toward the top of the page. The cluster of large sites on the north side of the valley is Dainzu-MacuilxochitlTlacochahuaya-Guadalupe, Tlacolula s major center at this time. Based on a map drawn by Laura Fins ten in Kowalewski et al. 1989:211.

Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley ofOaxaca the Early Formative, persisted into the time of urbanism and state organization. Residential wards at later settlements? Most prehispanic settlements in the Valley of Oaxaca show up on the ground surface as single, nucleated concentrations of artifacts. However, in all periods there were sites that consisted of more than one concentration of artifacts, separated by apparently uninhabited area. When the uninhabited space between artifact concentrations was greater than 100 m, our settlement pattern project called the concentrations separate sites. In some cases sites 100-300 m apart were probably parts of the same past community, especially when there were no topographic barriers between them. Sites may also have formed clusters whose members were separated by greater distances, say 500 or 1000 m. Fig. 12.1 illustrates possible communities formed by aggregating sites separated by varying distances. From 300 BC to AD 500 two-thirds to three-fourths of all sites were part of clusters whose member sites were separated by less than 500 m. The majority of clusters defined at the 500 m distance had civic-ceremonial architecture, but such buildings were usually found at only one of the sites in the cluster. In other words the typical pattern was for civic-ceremonial functions at the community level to be centralized (as they were earlier at San Jose Mogote) rather than divided among segments. One interpretation of the spatial fragmentation of communities would be that kin-based segments continued to maintain an identity well after the Early Formative. However there are other plausible explanations for the spatial fragmentation, including patterns of land use (Drennan 1988), land tenure, or land value; military reasons; or social differentiation on craft, ethnic, or other criteria besides kinship. The sociological significance of these spatially fragmented or dispersed communities is a question requiring a finer scale of data and analysis than we have at present; it is an interesting problem that remains unresolved.

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them into four rough categories: multiple, widely scattered mounds, no focus (n = 8) (Fig. 12.2); single focus of mounds and plazas (n = 26) (Fig. 12.3); single focus of mounds and plazas with other mounds or plazas scattered (n = 47) (Fig. 12.4); and multiple foci of mounds and plazas (n = 20) (Figs. 12.5-12.7). The most obvious conclusion, and the one I will return to after describing more intricate efforts with these data, is that the multifocal sites (20 percent of all the multiple mound sites) were an infrequent type of community. There are no statistically significant trends in the proportion of multifocal sites by time period. The proportion of multifocal sites appears to increase between the earliest urban periods (after 500 BC) to the later periods (after AD 250), but this may be chimerical. When I re-examined each of the drawings I found that the multifocal category contained a great deal of variation and that clearly not all the multifocal sites could have meant the same thing. When I removed all the very small sites, the cases where foci were probably of different time O

o

Multifocal communities Were there communities in the Valley of Oaxaca whose arrangements of pyramid mounds and plazas suggest | Mound segmentation? In preparing this paper I inspected the - Site boundary layout of every multiple-mound site (Blanton et al. 1982: Appendix XI, Kowalewski et al. 1989: Appendix IX). Fig. 12.2 A site with multiple, widely scattered mounds: Using a typology similar to that developed by Richard 4-11-87 etc., a Monte Albdn V site near San Sebastian Blanton (1989), I counted 101 relevant sites and sorted Teitipac.

o

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B

Mound Site boundary

Fig. 12.3 A site with a single focus of mounds and plazas: Tl-SJT-SJT-11, a multicomponent site near San Juan Teitipac. periods, the cases where a second focus was doubtful, • I Mound Site boundary etc., thirteen multifocal sites remained, and these exhibit no trend over time either in the total number occupied or in the founding of new ones. The following paragraphs Fig. 12.4 A site with a single focus of mounds and describe the clearer examples of multifocal towns, in plazas and others scattered: Xoxocotlan, mainly Early chronological order. Classic. Two multifocal places most likely date to Monte Alban Early I (beginning 500 BC): Magdalena Apasco (ET-MA-MA-1) and San Martin Tilcajete (OC-SMT- (TL-TCH-MAC-1, including Dainzu), Trinidad de ZaaSMT-11), if the latter was not already a multifocal com- chila, and Santa Ines Yatzeche became multifocal in munity in the preceding Rosario phase. San Martin Til- Monte Alban IIIA (AD 250), if not in the previous cajete is illustrated in Fig. 12.5. Both sites were second- phase. These three differed considerably in their degree ary centers. Monte Alban, if it did not have multiple of nucleation and spatial separation. architectural foci in Early Period I, certainly did by Late In Monte Alban IIIB-IV (beginning AD 500) TlaltiI (300 BC), as did Suchilquitongo (ET-SS-SS-1), shown nango (ET-SS-TL-1) was added (if it wasn't multifocal in Fig. 12.6. All of these had two or more mound and before), as was Jalieza, with its widely separated palace plaza groups of significant scale, contained within a quadrangles. Laura Finsten returned to Jalieza in 1988 larger residential area. In Monte Alban II (100 BC) I add for more intensive investigation. She tells me (pers. Cuilapan, though it is not quite so clearly multifocal, but comm. 1989) that the public buildings, plazas, and roads San Martin Tilcajete was abandoned. Macuilxochitl in Monte Alban IV Jalieza form a more concentrated

Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley ofOaxaca

100

131

200m

Mound

Fig. 12.5 A site with multiple architectural foci: OC-SMT-SMT-11 near San Martin Tilcajete, in the Late Formative.

Fig. 12.6 A site with multiple architectural foci: Suchilquitongo in the Late Classic.

core than we had originally thought. Jalieza thus may not be a multiple-focus community. Macuilxochitl had more pyramid mounds than any place in the Valley in Monte Alban IV, and two open plazas interpreted as markets. Lambityeco is not multifocal by my definition, but Lind and Urcid (1983) interpreted three of the excavated mounds as the houses of the cacique, the head priest, and the overseer (see p. 134, below). Since there are many other contemporary mounds of similar size at Lambityeco, might this mean there were several such functionaries in the same town? Most of the aforementioned sites ceased to be multifocal communities by the beginning of Monte Alban Period V (AD 850), which saw the construction of new, multiple, architectural foci at three of its five most important centers (Tlalixtac, Yagul, and Mitla) and reuse of older architecture in a multifocal pattern at the other two (Sa'a Yucu, or Old Cuilapan, and Macuilxochitl). Tlalixtac's multiple plaza groups are shown in Fig. 12.7. Here as at the other major Monte Alban V centers there were principal and lesser palace groups, instead of multiple foci of equal-sized palaces. Architecturally centralized rather than multifocal com-

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0

100

200m

• I Mound Site boundary

Fig. 12.7 A site with multiple architectural foci: Monte Albdn V Tlalixtac. munities are generally typical of the Valley of Oaxaca. Some of the better-known sites in this category include Reyes Etla, San Jose Mogote, San Luis Beltran, San Juan Teitipac, Matatlan, Xoxocotlan, Zaachila, Noriega, and Santa Ana Tlapacoyan. The Valley's many hilltop terraced sites are pertinent to our topic because their ramps, stairs, roads, enclosures, and other ways of forming public and private space are often better preserved than at valley-floor sites. The terraced sites are typically conical in organization, with low-status residences crowded on the slopes, plazas and public buildings on ridge tops, and high-status residential-ceremonial complexes forming the most secluded areas of the community. Many terraced sites look centrally planned. The terraced sites are highly centralized rather than segmental, though this conclusion should be qualified because the terraced sites were distinct functionally from other communities, being more involved in

military activities and probably less involved in managing intensive agriculture. Forty-seven sites in the multiple-mound sample were of the type with a single focus of mounds and plazas with other mounds and small plazas scattered away from the site center. In some cases the scattered mounds are probably high-status residences, as at Xoxocotlan (Fig. 12.4) and Lambityeco. At other sites, such as the Cerro de Azompa, El Choco, and Jalieza, some of the outlying mounds and plazas, generally small and located at the edge of the site, seem to have had special functions. In the field we speculated that these architectural features served "gateway" functions, but this idea has not been tested. In sum, the Valley of Oaxaca's predominant architectural layout for communities consisted of a nucleus of several mounds and plazas (often including a closed mound group), with or without a scattering of other

Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley of Oaxaca mounds. Only in the Late Postclassic did the sites I classified as multifocal play a major role. Even then, their architectural nuclei, while separate, were not equal. Mitla's standing palaces are much larger than the palace quadrangles found elsewhere in ancient Mitla. At Tlalixtac (Fig. 12.7) and Yagul the same can be said for the principal versus the outlying palaces. These Late Postclassic communities were less centralized than their earlier counterparts, but they were probably ruled by a single cacique, the other palaces belonging to subordinate nobility. Monte Alban

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natives will require more detailed information. A broad geographical affiliation for Monte Alban's barrios is suggested by similarities in pottery between northern and southeastern barrios at Monte Alban and the northern and southeastern wings of the Valley, respectively (Kowalewski et al. 1989). The same analysis suggests that two of the city's subdivisions had a greater hand than others in pottery distribution within Monte Alban. But as yet no specific links have been demonstrated between particular site subdivisions and particular towns or localities, or between subdivisions or outlying towns and any buildings on the Main Plaza. The ancient Zapotec capital thus had residential subdivisions, each with its own nucleus of public buildings. The subdivisions and their public architecture were about the same size as the secondary or tertiary towns in the rest of the Valley. The subdivisions had some as yet

Monte Alban has the most substantial evidence for community subdivisions of any place in the Valley of Oaxaca. It was Richard Blanton who discovered the city's barrio structure, and I follow his descriptions (1978:19-24, 33-9, 44-52, 63, 66-93). Monte Alban may have had three distinct residential zones from the first at its founding about 500 BC. By the Classic period, and perhaps as early as the Late Formative, the city consisted of a special precinct including the unique and monumental Main Plaza and nearby residences, and (by AD 600) up to fourteen subdivisions or barrios. These subdivisions varied in population size from 150 to 3600. They each consisted of residences for elite and commoners, a central focus of civic-ceremonial architecture, roads, and open plazas; sometimes they had specialized craftworking. It is intriguing, but perhaps entirely coincidental, that there are fourteen special buildings on the Late Classic Main Plaza, which might have been related to the city's fourteen barrios. The civic-ceremonial architecture of Monte Alban's subdivisions (other than the Main Plaza sector) is similar to that found at secondary and tertiary cities and towns in the Valley: that is, a closed, four-mound and courtyard group, open space or plazas, and several other mounds, or a variation of this basic pattern (Fig. 12.8). Even the Cerro de Azompa, which stands out among the subdivisions for the monumentality of its architecture, can be matched for mound volume architectural arrangements, and population by Reyes Etla, a contemporary secondary center less than 15 km away. In architecture and size Monte Alban's barrios were much 0 20 40m like the secondary and tertiary centers out in the Valley. Conceivably Monte Alban's subdivisions were in ^ | Mound some way the representatives of particular towns or { ) Residential terra( localities out in the Valley, or they may have been considered barrios or towns in their own right, equivalent to Fig. 12.8 The center of one of Monte Alban's barrios, other communities in the Valley. Testing these alter- site subdivision 15 (El Gallo).

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drama depicted precolumbian hostilities between Mixtecs and Zapotecs, specifically those of Cuilapan and Zaachila. However, one must take care not to reify the ethnic groups. There is little evidence that "Mixtec" or "Zapotec" affiliation made much difference in political behavior or that there were major differences in way of life or culture between these essentially linguistic groups. Oaxaca scholars have carried on a minor tradition of Historical information arguing about whether there was a Mixtec invasion of Information about social organization in the sixteenth- the Valley of Oaxaca, but there is broad agreement century Valley of Oaxaca is not copious, but scholars among all parties that the categories "Mixtec" and generally agree on its interpretation. The Relaciones "Zapotec" help very little in explaining political and Geogrdficas of c. 1570 (1981) and the experienced priest social behavior. Whitecotton (1977:121): "local commuFrancisco de Burgoa (1934) are the most important nity allegiance seems to have partly replaced, or become single sources, and other clues can be found in diverse dominant over, larger ethnic group loyalties." Flannery documents. I summarize what is known about sixteenth- and Marcus (1983a:278): "warfare ... was cacique versus century social segmentation along lines of kinship, class, cacique, not nation versus nation. Nowhere is it imagined that 'the Mixtec people' were at war with 'the hierarchy, ethnicity, and community barrios. Among Mixtecs and Zapotecs, kinship was bilateral Zapotec people'." Paddock (1983:105): "the city-state, and there were no corporate lineal descent groups or small and evanescent grouping of city-states, was the (Whitecotton 1977:153; Spores 1967:10; Spores and unit in these struggles. A Zapotec ruler of one would Flannery 1983:341). Other than genealogical ties among fight another such with little or no regard for his eththe regional nobility, there was apparently little atten- nicity; Mixtec caciques did the same." tion paid to kin relationships beyond the local comFor colonial Oaxaca, Chance (1986:esp. 148) subordmunity. inates ethnicity to other factors. The contributors to a Oaxaca society was class stratified, the most obvious recent volume on ethnicity and cultural pluralism in stratum being an hereditary nobility that tended to prac- Oaxaca primarily discuss indigenous groups as a general tice caste endogamy and local exogamy, and a broad social class instead of as a set of active allegiance groups commoner class, which may have been locally endoga- (Barabas and Bartolome 1986). Arthur Murphy (pers. mous. Commoners can be subdivided by legal status and comm. 1988)findsthat ethnicity explains little about the behavior of people in modern Oaxaca City. True, the land tenure (Spores and Flannery 1983; Romero 1986). Secular administration consisted of local caciques state of Oaxaca has great ethnolinguistic diversity, but (Zapotec coqui and coquitao, lord and great lord) who the forces that created this diversity operated in the were members of the royal line within the noble class. remote past (Josserand, Winter, and Hopkins 1984). Beneath these caciques were their agents at the barrio And when the scale of the problem is not all Oaxaca, but level, called tequitlato, or globaba in Zapotec. They col- just the central valleys, the state's ethnic diversity plays lected tribute and settled disputes; they may have only a minimal role in the structuring of the total social organized collective labor. A possible higher level of the system. Zapotec political hierarchy might be represented by the The Spanish recognized barrios in Oaxaca in early lord of Teozapotlan (Zaachila), to whom local caciques colonial times. Barrios probably functioned before the gave military support (Whitecotton 1977:309, Gay sixteenth century. The golabas were functionaries 1982:60, Flannery 1983; Lind and Urcid 1983). The assigned by the cacique to barrios or estancias (Paso y Valley Zapotecs supported a hierarchy of higher and Troncoso 1981:199). Citing Burgoa and the sixteenthlesser priests technically separate from the secular century Relaciones, Whitecotton (1977:96-7) lists rulership but often figuring importantly in political Mixtec and Zapotec barrios in Santa Ana Zegache, Zaaevents (Gay 1982:60-63; Flannery 1983). chila, and Huitzo. Gay (1982:124), retelling a story from In 1521 the major ethnic groups living in the Valley Burgoa, says that the 15,000 families who made up were the Mixtecs and Zapotecs. The nineteenth century Cuilapan were divided into barrios, each headed by a historians Carriedo (1949:1, 43-4) and Gay (1982:125) military captain; today the town still has five spatially tell of a dance acted out in Burgoa's time in Cuilapan separate barrios. Many towns traditionally have had and widely in Oaxaca in the nineteenth century. The barrios, which may be neighborhoods of the town itself unspecifiable affiliation with geographical subregions of the Valley. Nevertheless, Monte Alban, certainly from Monte Alban Late I (300 BC), must be considered a centralized rather than a segmental community, for the subdivisions were always dwarfed by the monumentality and central, prominent position of the Main Plaza.

Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley of Oaxaca

or spatially separate villages located at a distance from the main town. Barrios have administrative, ritual, and sometimes landholding functions and were important units in community formation in the colonial period (Taylor 1972:21, 72). Generally, ethnicity does not distinguish barrios from each other. Discussion

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post-collapse environment. But in the Valley of Oaxaca there was considerable continuity of settlement through the Postclassic and sparse opportunity to found new agricultural settlements on underused land. The ambitious Oaxacan lord would do better by marrying into an established royal line. Ethnicity likewise did not have a major role in structuring or fissioning Valley of Oaxaca society. Historically it did not, and there are few outstanding material symbols in the archaeological record that are demonstrably ethnic. The most prominent objects are associated with the Zapotec state, the individual cacicazgos, or the pan-Oaxacan hereditary nobility. For example, the famous Zapotec funerary urns were most often associated with families closely connected with the centralized regional state at Monte Alban and to a lesser extent at secondary centers. Temples and deities mentioned in the sixteenth century were associated with deceased ancestors of the royal line of particular cacicazgos (Marcus 1983b). Pottery styles of the Late Postclassic have distributions conforming to marketing spheres, not Mixtec or Zapotec language speaking, so that people obtained pots of the locally predominant types, there being no types special to ethnic groups. Contrast the lack of ethnic cleavages in the Valley of Oaxaca with the greater role of ethnicity in Central Mexico (see Brumfiel, Chapter 8, and Zantwijk, Chapter 9). The Valley of Mexico's politically marginal position in the earlier Postclassic and the competition between groups with ties to different outside powers was an ideal environment for ethnic conflict (Blanton et al. 1981:151-3; Parsons et al. 1982:381-3). In contrast, the Valley of Oaxaca retained a dominant position in its region. It had no period of political marginalization, and its history is not cast in ethnic terms. The Valley of Oaxaca had segments or factions (in addition to class divisions), but they were not built of kin units, and they were not fundamentally ethnic either in practice or ideological expression. The archaeological and historical data suggest that intra-community segmentation was generally subordinated to centralized political institutions at the community level. Nevertheless, the Valley of Oaxaca tended to split along spatial lines - faults that ran between, not within, communities. Archaeologically, spatial segregation in the Valley of Oaxaca is seen in:

Most communities in Oaxaca - even the archaeological cases that were multifocal - had a centralized concentration of public buildings. Local community segments may have existed in the Valley from the beginning of sedentism, at San Jose Mogote and later in the form of spatially discrete areas of habitation at other settlements. The spatially separate habitation areas (other than at San Jose Mogote and Monte Alban) generally were not marked by architectural or other material means that I can detect in the existing archaeological data. Apparently barrio, kin, or other segments were overridden and integrated by centralized institutions at the community level. Subdivisions existed in some communities but they were subordinate to centralized institutions. There is little evidence that kinship groups provided the fundamental building blocks of civil society. Corporate kin groups may have been important in the early periods of sedentism and perhaps they persisted on the local level after state formation, as I discussed above. But after the rise of the state, segmentation based on kin principles did not leave many material clues and in the time covered by historical records its importance was limited. Contrast the minor role of kin groups in the Valley of Oaxaca with the significance of lineage structure among the Maya, as interpreted by Carmack and his students (Wallace and Carmack 1977; Fox 1987). The archaeological evidence for segmentary lineage structure in Postclassic Maya society is prominent, consisting of multiple plaza groups, sites with multiple architectural foci, regularities in the regional spatial patterning of acropolis and warrior-lineage sites, and stylistic expressions in sculpture and other media. This evidence for segmentation complements historical documents from Yucatan and the Maya highlands. Why did kin-based segmentation play a major role among the Maya and not in Oaxaca and central Mexico? Fox (1987) argues that segmentary lineage structure was 1 the persistent identity of subregional divisions, corresa mechanism for predatory expansion among the Maya, ponding roughly to the three arms of the Valley and as among some African societies. In the Maya case the marked by differences in settlement patterns, ceramic opportunity for expansion was eastern Mesoamerica's styles, and connections to the whole regional system;

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2 the frequent division of the region into core and periphery, seen in differential consumption of goods and differences in the composition of central places; 3 the occurrence of shrines, boundary markers, and fortifications on the frontiers of the region and between localities; 4 the geographical basis of the regional state embodied in the subregionally affiliated barrios of its capital at Monte Alban; 5 the occurrence of roughly equivalent forms and amounts of civic-ceremonial architecture and ritual objects in centralized local communities, with little material indication of organic solidarity between local communities (that is, local communities tended to be similar and competitive); and 6 the role of markets in creating local integration. Historical sources from the sixteenth century also point to the importance of geographically based cleavages: 1 the native conception of space organized centripetally, as seen in colonial maps; 2 the indigenous histories, whose content concerns the alliances, wars, tribute relationships, title, etc., of localized cacicazgos and their lords; 3 the large number of semiautonomous cacicazgos, which have grown into Oaxaca's enormous number of municipios; and 4 the high frequency of costly boundary disputes between municipios (Dennis 1987). Cores and peripheries, subregions, local communities, cacicazgos, municipios, and marketing spheres all have specific and unique spatial definition, unlike ethnicity or kinship, which may be spatially overlapping or crosscutting. Why did the Valley of Oaxaca organize along territorial or spatial lines? I cannot answer this question fully, but I might stress understanding why social systems and subsystems were integrated at the scales that they were. I think local communities and subregions in the Valley of Oaxaca were integrated at the scale they were because of requirements for controlling production on both limited and fragmented irrigable land and more extensive dry-farming land, and for reasons of marketing efficiency. Spatially broader integrations such as Valleywide centralization and core-periphery structure were due to requirements of societal boundary maintenance and the economic integration necessary to sustain a large regional capital. These themes of putting together intensive and extensive agricultural production, boundary maintenance, and provisioning the regional political

institutions are crucial to the structuring and dynamics of Valley of Oaxaca society. They are developed more fully in our final report (Kowalewski et al. 1989) than I can in this paper. But in simplified generality, if I take a Marxist approach and begin with ruling class control over production, then in the Valley of Oaxaca what this meant, typically, is centralized (rather than dispersed) control over spatially coherent territories. Such territories were nested, from the locality, to the subregion, to the region. Kin or ethnic segmentation had to be subordinated to the more powerful requirements (namely production, exchange, and security requirements) of spatially defined institutions. Competing, more or less similar, geographically based segments played an important role in the dynamics of Valley of Oaxaca society. The Monte Alban state (not unlike other early states) was a synthetic balance between regional and local interests. Localities tended to be alike, especially insofar as the region was organized as a centralized, primate system, as it was in the earlier periods. At times, such as during the growth of urbanism in Monte Alban I (500-100 BC), local interests must have been subordinated to regional concerns. At other times, such as during the Early Classic (AD 250-500) local interests gained functions previously monopolized by the capital. Rivalry between local segments in the Valley undoubtedly played a role in the break-up of the regional state in the Early Postclassic (c. AD 700). In the later Postclassic (to AD 1520) political struggle between petty kingdoms, seen in the historical documents and in the fortifications on their mutual boundaries (Elam 1989), brewed at the same time that the region became more integrated economically. Internal competition here was thus similar to that in Central Mexico in the Late Postclassic, with the significant exception that the Valley of Oaxaca was not welded together into another centralized system as Mexico was by Tenochtitlan. In sum, the existing archaeological evidence suggests a degree of community-level social segmentation in the form of barrios at San Jose Mogote, at Monte Alban, and less distinctively at other settlements. Nevertheless, communities tended to be centralized rather than segmented in public, civic-ceremonial activities. The historical evidence likewise shows community centralization rather than segmentation. This society tended to segment along spatial lines (between local communities, between subregions, or along coreperiphery lines), in contrast to the Postclassic Maya, where segmentation may have been along lineage - and of course other - lines. To a lesser extent the Valley of Oaxaca contrasts with the Valley of Mexico, where one

Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley ofOaxaca needs an ethnic gazetteer to understand Postclassic documentary history. I suggested that lineage and ethnic divisions in the Maya and Central Mexican regions respectively were due to the more open political environments of the two regions after the collapse of Classic societies; whereas the Valley of Oaxaca had greater sociopolitical continuity and its own internal pressures toward spatially coherent social groups. A cknowledgmen ts I am grateful for the support given to the Valley of Oaxaca Settlement Pattern Project by the National Science Foundation, the Social Science Research Council, the Canadian Social Science and Humanities Research Council, the City University of New York, Purdue University, the University of Arizona, the University of Georgia, the University of Wisconsin, and

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Arizona State University. Authority to carry out fleldwork and valuable assistance were granted by the Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia and the Centro Regional de Oaxaca, directed by Manuel Esparza and then Rogelio Gonzalez. I thank the many members of our field and lab crews, and the Oaxacans whose land we walked over. This paper owes much to Arthur Murphy, my project collaborators Gary Feinman and Laura Finsten, and especially Richard Blanton, whose architectural studies laid the groundwork for much of the interpretation. Blanton's work was supported by SSRC, and he was assisted by Lynnette Norr, Patricia Alleyne, and Marta Pinto. Elizabeth Brumfiers and Blanton's comments helped clarify several points and are greatly appreciated. I thank Gisela Weis, whose drawings for this paper are based on the originals done by our project.

13 Cycles of conflict: political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands MARY E. D. POHL and JOHNM. D. POHL

We recognize Lowland Maya culture because the Maya were constantly competing with one another. The Lowlands were "the hot center of a competitive system where small differences matter a lot" (Douglas and Isherwood 1979:145). The archaeological and historical record demonstrates that conflict repeatedly built up among the Maya and was a powerful factor in cultural change. We see recurring cycles of conflict but we also recognize that structural change occurred as those cycles played out. Our model for the development of conflict begins with competition among parties who are closely tied, within a lineage, between lineages within a polity, or between adjacent polities. Conflict spreads as combatants reach out in an attempt to rally allies to their cause and thereby increase the number of actors with an interest in the outcome of the struggle. The resultant political instability may spur some to assert their independence, and others may seize the opportunity tofilla power vacuum. To assess our model we first look at the Late Postclassic and early historic Maya and identify the "core attributes of Maya society" (Farriss 1984). Prehistorians have been wary of using these data, but they represent our best information on Maya culture. Historically we see sources of conflict among elites in competition over political office and the means of supporting positions of power. Commoners have their own conflicts over land and inheritance. They appeal to elite patrons for conflict resolution, and elites extract goods and labor in exchange for their services, which they use to promote themselves through warfare and ritual display. The patron-client relation breaks down when elite power is weak or when commoners perceive that they are being exploited intolerably. 138

We then turn to the prehistoric record and find that polities were colliding by the Late Preclassic period after 400 BC when the institutionalization of political positions had become widespread in the Lowlands. We present archaeological and epigraphic evidence for increasing competition through the Classic period (between about AD 200 and AD 950-1000).l The evidence suggests that during the Late Classic period (AD 650-950) there was a shift from alliances to warfare and elimination of political rivals. Alliance and warfare are two sides of a single phenomenon: competition. The hallmarks of Classic Maya society, the pyramids, the monuments with inscriptions, decorated ceramics, and so forth were all vehicles for competitive rituals of consumption designed to promote political careers, confirm factional solidarity, and emphasize differences with other political units. Such consumption was the arena in which Maya culture was fought over and given shape (See Douglas and Isherwood 1979:57). We focus most heavily on the southern Maya Lowlands because a greater amount of information is available for that region (Fig. 13.1). At the same time there were regional differences, and we present some data on their significance. Finally we assess structural change that occurred as a result of conflict. We see that by Postclassic times paramounts had lost some of their divine status and that sharing of power among secular and priestly office holders occurred. The Postclassic period was characterized by intense competition among a large number of players as well as periods of greater political centralization. Core attributes of Maya society

Although we recognize that the use of some ethnohistoric documents may be problematic, Late Postclassic and colonial society does represent a historical structural transformation of Classic Lowland society, and the data constitute the best information on Maya culture. Recent research has demonstrated that the Maya resisted Spanish domination more effectively than previously suspected (e.g., Farriss 1984; Jones 1989). The documents reveal that ritual and military offices were powerful sources of control, grounded economically in the rights to land use and tribute. Elite competition over accession to political office provided many opportunities for factionalism to develop, and intra-class competition and inter-class conflict were significant forces in cultural change.

Fig. 13.1 Map of sites discussed. 1. Itzan, 2. Altar de Sacrificios, 3. La Amelia, 4. El Caribe, 5. Aguas Calientes, 6. Arroyo de PiedralTamarindito.

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The patron-client relationship Elites and commoners (macehuales) were bound together in patron-client relationships. Elites protected the corporate community and ensured its continuing economic and political viability while the commoners supplied material support. Elites organized the feasts, which were occasions for dramatizing the political hierarchy (Fig. 13.2). Ceremonial observances both recounted and re-enacted the myths and history of the ruling family, including conflicts such as the fall of Mayapan, and petitioned the fertility deities (Edmonson 1982, 1986). The communal feasts were a focus for the mobilization of both goods and labor. Although elites redistributed some of the produce garnered, ceremonies were primarily occasions for receiving surplus, which included corn, beans, fowls, honey, wax, and especially cotton cloaks (mantas). Elites employed the surpluses at their disposal to enhance their political positions through rituals of consumption aimed at selected targets. At Mayapan, "All the lords were careful to respect, visit and to entertain Cocom (the paramount), accompanying him, making feasts in his honor and repairing to him with important business ..." (Landa 1941:27). The ruling class gave elaborate banquets on special occasions such as succession to office. Each guest was served maize cakes, cacao, and meat and then presented with a cotton mantle, a wooden stool, and a decorated cup or bowl (Roys 1943:29). These circles of consumption also served to define eliteness by excluding the commoners. Elites used ritual contexts to assign land titles and award political positions. Most land was communally owned, but elites had the privilege of allocating usufruct rights, and they chose the best agricultural sites (e.g., cenotes) for themselves. Commoners could own improvements, e.g., houseplots and fruit trees (Farriss 1984). Elites insured physical as well as ritual protection. The Fig. 13.2 Carved peccary skull from a Late Classic highest political offices (hal ach uinic or hereditary terriroyal tomb at Copdn illustrating elite participation in the torial ruler, batab or subterritorial ruler, and nacom or cuch (burden) rite enacted at New Year, the end of a katun cycle, or accession to a term of high public office. town chief) were military in nature. This elite warrior Herbert J. Spinden, A Study of Mayan Art: Its Subject caste defended territorial boundaries and led group vendettas to avenge members of the community (Farris Matter and Historical Development (1913). Memoirs 1984:139-^6). One of the primary duties of commoners of the Peabody Museum vol. 6, fig. 210. Reprinted was to participate in warfare. The sixteenth-century courtesy of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Relaciones de Yucatan (1898-1900:1, 176-7) say that Ethnology, Harvard University. lords "did not take tribute from their vassals more than the latter wished to give, except that they served them with their persons and arms in war, whenever the occasion offered." Colonial documents reveal that ongoing conflicts over land preoccupied both the commoners and the native

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Feasting and ritual celebration were closely associated with warfare because they were the stage for selfpromotion. Nobles engaged in high drama. They went to the battlefield dressed as fierce predators, jaguars, and eagles (Landa 1991:122). The Highland Quiche account of preparations for confronting the Spaniards conveys the vividness of the display. "And Captain Tecum, before leaving the town and in front of the chiefs, demonstrated his fortitude... and immediately put on wings with which he flew and his two arms and legs were covered with feathers. ... This captain flew like an eagle" (Recinos quoted in Bricker 1981:39). The "jaguars" and "eagles" brought back their human prey and arranged to kill them in front of their clients amid much fanfare, confirming their prowess. Feasts allowed lords to repay their loyal followers with public recognition. "The war over, the soldiers caused much bother in their towns ... over compelling others to serve and feast them. And if one of them had killed a captain or a noble, he was highly honored and feasted" (Landa 1941:123). Political struggle frequently involved plots and ambushes. One prominent example is the Xiu murder of the Cocom Itza family that ended in the destruction of Mayapan in the mid-fifteenth century. The Cocom ruler was pursuing a course of self-aggrandizement, augmenting his power with mercenaries from Tabasco in an effort to take over the city. Itza nobles conspired with Tutul Xiu to invite members of the Cocom family to a banquet and to murder them in the feasting house. One Cocom survived because he happened to be away on a trading mission, and his line continued the conflict in Rivalry within the elite class The Relaciones de Yucatan (1898-1900 quoted in Landa future generations (Roys 1962). 1941:41) state that Maya nobles waged war to seize Peregrinations to sacred shrines at caves and cenotes property and take captives especially women and chil- that elites had to perform made them vulnerable to dren, who may have been valued as laborers. Battle attack. In AD 1536 drought struck the province of Tutul allowed warriors to enhance their social positions and Xiu, and the Governor of Mani, Pot Xiu, led a water garner plunder. Sacrifices of defeated nobles eliminated pilgrimage to the sacred cenote at Chichen Itza accompolitical competition and allowed the victors access to panied by his lieutenant and eleven lords from adjacent titles, land, and tributaries. towns. Although Chi Cocom, governor of Otzmal in Itza territory, assured the Xiu pilgrims of safe-conduct, the In their wars they made great offerings of the spoils, Cocom murdered them when they reached Otzmal and if they made a prisoner of some distinguished (Edmonson 1986:40). man, they sacrificed him immediately, not wishing to In general the fighting force consisted of commoners, leave any one alive who might injure them afterward. who wanted to tend their cornfields when planting season The rest of the people remained captive in the power came. Battlefield logistics were a problem. "The town ... of those who had taken them. (Landa 1941:123) gave the food, and this the women prepared" (Landa And so they never had peace, especially when the 1941:123), a time-consuming activity involving the grindcultivation was over, and their greatest desire was to ing of considerable quantities of corn. "The men carried seize important men to sacrifice, because the greater [the food] on their backs for want of beasts of burden; and the quality of the victim the more acceptable the therefore the wars were of short duration" (p. 123). Territorial expansion occurred when the opportunity service they did to god seemed to them. (p. 217) elite. "The Treaty of Mani" located properties in AD 1557 just fifteen years after the conquest of Yucatan (Roys 1943), and 'The Titles of Ebtun" (Roys 1939), dating from AD 1600 on, record numerous disputes over inter-and intra-province boundaries and problems of trespass. Ralph Roys (1943:178) suggests that these disputes were related to the difficulty of maintaining rights to agricultural land under a regime of shifting cultivation. Farmers constantly make new plots and leave old fields fallow - and hence untended - for a period of years. In addition, the Maya may have had more extensive orchards in the past, and such investments would have made farmers more vulnerable to thefts. Litigant towns formed alliances coinciding with inter-province boundaries, but they also bickered with one another over rights to agricultural land associated with towns or town clusters. Within families, ambiguity in rules of inheritance may have been a source of conflict over land. An estate consisting of improvements to land such as houses, fruit trees, and cacao groves was divided among the sons. The son who had played the greatest part in accumulating the property received the largest share. If a man had no sons, his inheritance went to a brother or cousin on the man's side of the family (Roys 1943). One can see room for conflicting claims here. In Late Postclassic times the paramount and his warrior town heads would have taken responsibility for resolving commoners' complaints and protecting their clients' interests in battle.

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Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl then the lord of the Pueblo armed his people against the other, and for that reason they waged war upon each other. (Relaciones de Yucatan 1898-1900:11, 209, quoted in Landa 1941:41)

The roots of conflict and alliance building lay in both internal and external characteristics of Maya polities. The system of governance allowed many competitors to vie for power. At the time of conquest, provincial political structures ranged from highly centralized polities to loose confederations depending on the distribution of power among the ruling patrilineage, the subterritorial rulers {batabs), and local gentry (ah cuch cabs, "they who bear the burden of the community") (Farriss 1984:241). The batabs inherited their office patrilineally and were often related to the hal ach uinic. Thus, they themselves had their hereditary claims. They divided the polity into three or four quarters. The ah cuch cabs had their own power base as representatives of the four wards (cuch tee!) of a community and presumably of the chiefly lineages therein (Farriss 1984:241; Coe 1965). The ah cuch cabs assembled the people for feasts and war and collected the tribute. Their designated leaders were the holpopo ("heads of the mat"), who oversaw political and ritual activities in the council houses (popol nab) and acted as the batabs' chief executive officers (Coe 1965:103). Religious specialists also wielded their share of power. Fig. 13.3 The Book of Chilam Balan of Chumayel They kept the lore of cosmology, ritual, and lineage depicts the lords of the katuns as European kings history, including the sacred bark books or codices and demonstrating the connection between calendrical ritual ritual bundles. Divine mediation was a two-party affair and rulership. From The Book of Chilam Balam of with the rulers delivering the material support and the Chumayel, by Ralph L. Roys. Copyright © 1967 by priests making the offerings (Farriss 1984:340). the University of Oklahoma Press. The Late Postclassic and early colonial political system involved rotation of offices, and although the arose. By cooperating with the Spanish conquerors, Don Maya may have intended to dampen factionalism Pablo Paxbolon, the provincial lord of Tixchel in south- (Farriss 1984:249), the end result was to promote intensiwest Campeche, not only managed to preserve his fied political maneuvering. The Books of Chilam Balam domain but actually extended his power far back into the (Edmonson 1982, 1986) document the struggle between interior, incorporating both new towns and fugitive the Itza and the Xiu over the right to seat the katun, a conflict that began in the Terminal Late Classic or Early Maya from the north (Farriss 1984:150). Roys (1943:69) infers the existence of military alli- Postclassic period and continued to preoccupy the Maya ances between political units from the speed with which even after the arrival of the Spaniards (Edmonson the warriors of Cupul and Cochuch joined the Cocom of 1982:xvi-xx). The katun was a calendrical period consistSotuta in their attack on the Spaniards at Merida in ing of twenty tuns of 360 days each. Thirteen katuns 1542. Coalitions could easily sour as the following six- made up a cycle (may). At the end of each cycle, tribute rights, land titles, and appointment to public office were teenth-century Spanish account indicates: renegotiated. Competition over the seating of the cycle it was the custom among them to pledge what they was fierce because the honor conferred these rights possessed to each other; upon collection and payment (Fig. 13.3). they began to quarrel and attacked each other, and Rotation of office was particularly prevalent among

Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands the lower echelons of elites. The ethnohistoric data for yearly reshuffling of names suggest that the ah cuch cabs were advancing up rank and that these career trajectories proceeded in cyclical fashion like the present-day religious cargo system in traditional Maya communities such as Zinacantan (Vogt 1976, Farris 1984:249). A significant source of internal trouble was ambiguity in succession to office (Farris 1984). A combination of hereditary and elective factors determined eligibility for rulership. The right to rule was a privilege inherited patrilineally, and the highest office was confined to members of the dominant lineage. From this select pool of eligibles, lesser nobles chose the paramount on the basis of a combination of personal ability, which would often have included success in warfare, and political and dynastic alliances. The child of the previous ruler was a preferred choice, but the Maya did not observe the principle of primogeniture (Farriss 1984, Hopkins 1988:108). Accession without previous office was common; rulers might even be designated at an early age (Farriss 1984:24). The choice of who was to fill the highest office of a polity was not an entirely internal affair in practice. Rulers of other polities tried to influence the outcome in order to maintain alliances advantageous to themselves. Since elite families had intermarried, lineages of one polity often had strong vested interests in the rulership of other polities. The events surrounding the fall of Mayapan illustrate the degree to which polities meddled in each other's affairs. The League of Mayapan provided for joint rule with the Xiu lineage dominant in western Yucatan centered at Uxmal and the Itza lineage pre-eminent in the east centered at Chichen Itza. Mayapan, situated at the juncture of these two spheres, was the locus of joint rule. Katun 8 Ahau (AD 1441-61) was the last katun of the Xiu may, and the Itza center of Izamal was the primary seat of the katun. When the lord of Izamal died, he left four heirs with claims to the governorship. The Itza of Chichen, who were related to these heirs, decided to back Ahau Can as the candidate with the best claim. Nevertheless, Can Ul, whose bid for high office was probably based on an incestuous relationship, eventually won out on the strength of his alliance with Hunac Ceel, the Xiu governor of Uxmal. Hunac Ceel seized the embassy of priests that the Itza of Chichen had sent to Izamal and sacrificed them. He expelled the Itza from Mayapan and destroyed the city. The dissolution of centralized rule opened the way for unbridled competition. Hunac Ceel claimed to seat the following katun 6 Ahau at Uxmal, but many others claimed the same

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privilege, and all of the victors of the conspiracy of Mayapan disappeared from history in this katun (Edmonson 1986:38-9). Class conflict Maya elites worked at forging a patron-client relationship with the commoners through ritual and military control, but the bonds were fragile ones. Class conflict sometimes culminated in revolt or defection on the part of commoners. Historically the patron-client bond has weakened when centralized authority disintegrated or when commoners perceived oppression from tribute, taxation, and the appropriation of resources and labor by the ruling class. Commoner response has been either armed revolt or flight, a pattern that has persisted even as late as the early part of this century (Bricker 1981). Commoners rose up in the fifteenth century with the break-up of the League of Mayapan (Edmonson 1986:39). They revolted again in the early colonial era when they discovered that they had to pay both tribute to the Itza and taxes to the Spaniards (Edmonson 1982). They formed their own guerrilla warrior companies in the woods to defend themselves from the tribute and captive raids of the marauding nobles. The guerrillas pillaged the countryside, killing, burning, and stealing crops and making it impossible for Maya lords to complete their ceremonial visits to collect tribute and confirm land titles. The warrior companies (e.g., Little Flints, Coral Snakes, and Ants, the latter name invoking a particularly horrifying image of destruction well known to farmers) supported low-born claimants to the lordship of the katun, who proliferated as the opportunity to seize power presented itself. Those in power bitterly referred to such rivals as "moths in beehives" and "blood-sucking insects who drain the poverty of the macehuales (commoners)" (Farris 1984:249, 443). Elites had changed the calendar in order to retain power and prevent its rotating to their rivals. Now priests and commoners feuded over reforms to the katun cycle (Edmonson 1982:78), and some commoners, including some of the warrior companies, added Christianity to their religious observances. The result was that native ceremonialism was in disarray, and few legitimate rulers were able to finish their terms of political office. The Spaniards found that Maya commoners were not only rebellious but also hard to exploit when scattered about the countryside, and they instituted a policy of congregating the Indians near larger settlements. The Spaniards tried to maintain power over peasants through what remained of the native elite, but their

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efforts failed. The environment was so open and the level of capital investment in subsistence was so low that the Maya had few qualms about uprooting themselves. Farriss (1984:200) estimates that in the early colonial era, more than a third of the population in Yucatan had at any one time permanently moved from the towns where the Europeans had tried to congregate the Indians. Summary

We would summarize the "core principles of Maya society" thus: Maya elites had a patron-client society with power resting on military and ritual control. Control through ceremonialism or ideology was particularly effective with those of relatively high status. Ritual was more than a way of bolstering or legitimizing power; ritual provided the stage for building power (Farris 1984:347). Through ritual, elites laid claim to land titles, political positions, and prestige. These resources were the focus of intense competition within the ruling class. The degree of centralization in a polity depended on the relative power of the ruling patrilineage, subterritorial rulers, and local elites. The ruling class also had a stake in military control. Political positions included leadership on the battlefield, and military service provided one means of proving oneself fit for office as well as acquiring the spoils of war. Elites could use their military organization to provide the protection that commoners wanted for their land as well as to inflict serious damage on those who objected to paying tribute for their services. This force was a particularly effective means of controlling commoners. The extent to which elites could apply force was limited. Alliances among elites of different polities resulted in intense maneuvering for power, and disgruntled commoners could exploit the situation by throwing their support behind the faction that benefited them most. Commoners could also revolt or flee when exploitation became too intense. Nevertheless, commoners' traditional contract with their lords left them politically divided, and they never managed to mount a unified challenge to the patron-client system that would have brought them true victory over their masters. The Classic period

New data have demonstrated that many Classic Maya were as militaristic as their Postclassic descendants. We adopt a uniformitarian perspective on conflict; warfare always had both economic and ritual dimensions, and both elites and commoners had a vested interest in it.

There was no significant change in the nature of warfare during Preclassic, Classic and Postclassic times, only changes in the balance of power among those competing. We hypothesize that alliances, particularly marriage alliances, which were originally intended to resolve conflict, eventually led to intensified warfare drawing in more disputants. Most of the archaeological and epigraphic data refer to the ruling class, especially the royal family. We have little information on the commoners because archaeologists have primarily focused their efforts on elite culture and because the remains of commoners are more ephemeral; they did not cast their social relationships in stone. Gaps in the evidence exist, but in some respects we should find the absence of information as intriguing as its presence. Why, for example, are stelae with inscriptions and royal tombs so common in Peten, Guatemala, but scarce in adjacent areas of northern Belize? Classic polities averaged a minimum of 2500 km2, but political boundaries fluctuated over time (Mathews 1986). Each polity was headed by a ruler who, with his deified ancestors, was the focal point of state religion. Paramounts are typically covered with god-markings in Maya art (Schele and Miller 1986), and elites had temples built to house their tombs. Non-first-born sons from highranking dynasties held supporting positions, and they might found new centers (Mathews 1986:25). References to conquests by subsidiary lords indicate that they acted as war chiefs. The presence of parts of names of parents suggests that the subsidiary position of cahal or regional governor was inherited from father to son (Stuart 1989). External conflict

Warfare generally occurred between adjoining polities usually between centers 20-40 km apart (Schele and Mathews 1991). The case of sites in northeast Peten (Tikal, Uaxactun, Naranjo, Ucanal) and Caracol in southwestern Belize (Fig. 13.4) illustrates how political histories might be linked. The sequence of events appears in Table 13.1. In some instances a victorious polity ruled a defeated center, but usually the dominant site did not take on direct governance. Nevertheless, one would assume that the victors tried to siphon off labor and prestige goods that had previously been going to their foes by enticing commoners to settle in their territory or drawing tribute from the conquered polity. One problem in studying political and economic relations between polities is that comparative studies of population shifts on a regional level are rare. We have trouble verifying whether victorious lords

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Table 13.1. An example of competition among polities focusing on the area of northeast Peten, with its dominant center Tikal, and on Caracol in southwest Belize (see Fig. 13.4).a Peten

AD 292 AD 378

AD 537 AD 556

AD 600

Tikal and Uaxactun emerge as the two largest Early Classic political centers. Tikal erects early stela. Great Jaguar Paw of Tikal and his sibling Smoking Frog defeat Uaxactun and install Smoking Frog as ruler. Tikal is the dominant center in Peten. Double Bird takes office at Tikal and erects paramount temple in which he will be buried.

Disruptions, perhaps internal, after death of Animal Skull, Double Bird's successor. Elimination of twin pyramid group for katun rite and construction of new ball court on East Plaza.

AD 631

AD 692

Monuments and burials similar to Caracol. Ruler A revives former splendor including restoration of Great Plaza ball court. Tikal and Naranjo wage war on Ucanal and Yaxha. Uaxactun reverses fortunes, marked by stela erection in AD 751.

AD 780 AD 830

a b

A remnant population at Tikal camps on former palaces in Terminal Classic times and sacks Double Bird's tomb. Uaxactun retains power and continues inscriptions.

Caracol

An "axe event"b by the ruler of Tikal against Caracol provokes war with Tikal. A "Venus" or "shell/star" event on 29 April 562, marking the first stationary point of Venus, may commemorate victory over Double Bird with ritual sacrifice at Caracol.

Lord Kan II of Caracol defeats Tikal's associate, Naranjo, in AD 631 and 636. Caracol experiences greater prosperity and a building surge. Shortly after AD 650, Caracol may have extended its power over a large part of Peten.

Caracol enters another aggressive phase, defeats Ucanal, and records another "axe event" against Tikal c. AD 800. Caracol remains warlike through the Terminal Classic period.

Compiled from Schele and Freidel 1990, Chase and Chase 1989, Haviland 1991, Houston 1991, and Nikolai Grube, pers. comm. 1990. The "axe event" glyph contains an axe element like that associated with the glyph for batab or war chief and may represent an actual battle or raid. We argue that the "Venus" or "shell/star" event was a ritual re-enactment of the battle dramatized as the predator-prey theme at the ceremonial and political center of the victor.

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UAXACTUN

1

HOLMUL

V

J

YALOCH •

TIKAL

J - '

CALEDONIA m

N

L

LA REJOLLA

MARIA CAMP #

HATZCAB CEEL

CARACOL

-TIKAL \CARACOLC

Fig. 13.4 Map showing the locations of Caracol, Tikal, and other competing polities in northeast Peten and southwestern Belize (Table 13.1). From Chase and Chase 1989.

Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands received tribute in part because many tribute items and prestige goods were perishable commodities or consisted of labor. One monument from La Pasadita may represent the symbolic payment of tribute or a ceremony in which the paramount collected tribute. Inscriptions reveal that the ruler of La Pasadita was made a cahal of the Yaxchilan polity. The panel shows the cahal presenting his lord with a bowl containing lumps of unidentified material and holding an elaborate headdress (Schele and Miller 1986:137). Other evidence of tribute extraction may come from the migration of art styles. When the ruler of Tonina captured Kan-Xul of Palenque, the art style of the captured site appeared at Tonina, though only briefly. This may reflect the relocation of craftsmen to the victorious site (Miller 1989). Populations shifted (Chase and Chase 1989). For example, as Caracol became an aggressive political force about the mid sixth century AD (Table 13.1), population at the former site rose dramatically, increasing by 325 percent in 130 years. There is evidence for increased availability of labor; causeways and agricultural terraces were built. There was heightened wealth at the site in the form of expanded caches of high-status goods. Wealth was shared. Tombs were widespread and fine grave goods were as elaborate in burials located in the site's neighborhoods as those in the site's epicenter. We can see that powerful centers were successful in luring supporters into their orbit, but we would like to know more about where the newcomers came from. Victorious lords also attempted to destroy the power of a defeated polity by desecrating the sacred monuments, idols, and ancestral tombs that documented a ruler's claim on divine authority. Late Classic tombs in the southern Lowlands (e.g., at Altun Ha, Pendergast 1986) were extensively looted in antiquity. A large number of jades from Late Classic tombs were thrown into the Sacred Cenote at Chichen Itza (Proskouriakoff 1974) and placed in caves (Pohl and Pohl 1983). Bones were desecrated. Archaeologists have frequently encountered human bones in the central areas of the political/ceremonial centers they have excavated (e.g., at Uaxactun, Ledyard Smith, pers. comm. 1974). These bones might be the remains of sacrificial victims, but alternatively, when tombs were denuded of their jades, the remains of the ancestors may have been thrown into the plazas. Bonampak provides an example of the defacement of monuments. The Bonampak murals were never finished. The site was abandoned, and someone scratched out representations of the ruling paramount's face (Miller 1986).

147

SPEAR

JAGUAR MITT

-SHIELD AND DARTS

TLALOG MASK

JAGUAR BOOTS LORD OF SEIBAL

Fig. 13.5 Stele 16, Dos Pilas, shows Ruler 3, dressed as a jaguar victorious over Paw Jaguar, divine lord of Seibal. Drawing from Graham and von Euw 1977. Some victors could not resist proclaiming their prowess at the defeated site. For example, after Caracol defeated Naranjo in AD 631 (Table 13.1), Caracol recorded the event on a monument carved in Caracol style. It was thirty years before Naranjo began recording its own inscriptions again (Schele and Mathews 1991). Dos Pilas' rulers assumed direct authority over a defeated center (Houston and Mathews 1985). Inscriptions on monuments tell us that Ruler 1 acceded to office in AD 645 and built power through conquest as well as marriage to women from Itzan, El Chorro, and Naranjo. Ruler 2 accepted the fealty of Arroyo de Piedra/Tamarindito, whose local ruler was the son of a

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Fig. 13.6 Lintel 6, Structure 1, Yaxchilan, shows Bird Jaguar, in a jaguar headdress, and his cahal, both holding jaguar clubs. Drawing from Graham and von Euw 1977.

Dos Pilas woman. Rulers 3 and 4 had more aggressive military campaigns, capturing the lords of Seibal (Fig. 13.5), Cancuen, and El Chorro and defeating Yaxchilan. The seat of the polity was moved to Aguateca and Seibal. The expansion ended when the overlord of one of the defeated polities captured Ruler 4. By AD 791 Dos Pilas and Aguateca had stopped raising monuments, and formerly subsidiary centers began to erect their own stelae. Fortifications from southwestern Peten, Guatemala, complement this evidence for intense warfare at the end of the eighth century AD. Dos Pilas was fortified with concentric rings of hastily constructed ramparts, prob-

ably topped with a barricade of wood or thorny plants. Nearby inhabitants of a small site, Punta de Chimino, surrounded themselves with earthworks and a moat (Demarest and Houston 1989). Internal conflict

Internal disputes were evidently as significant as wars. Wards within a site may have been the loci of competing lineages or factions (see Fox, this volume). Causeways may divide sites into four wards at Seibal (Tourtellot 1989) and Ek Balam (Bey and Ringle 1989). At Sayil two or three pyramids associated with large residences at the borders of the site may have been entrance markers like

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Fig. 13.7 Lintel 8, Structure 1, Yaxchilan, depicts Bird Jaguar and his cahal grasping Jeweled Skull and another captive in a ritual re-enactment of Jeweled Skull's defeat. Drawing from Graham and von Euw 1977. those Bishop Landa described (Tourtellot 1989). Fox (1989) proposes that a tripartite division typified Classic civilization and may go back to the Preclassic El Mirador. Council houses at Copan (Fash and Fash 1990), Ek Balam (Bey and Ringle 1989), and Chichen Itza (Schele and Freidel 1990) reflect the presence of competing interests within the polities. The most compelling argument for power struggles within a polity comes from interregna and high turnover in office holders. For example, a rapid succession of rulers at Tikal before the accession of Double Bird hints at instability and power struggles within Tikal (Peter Mathews, pers. comm. 1989). At least two lineages were prominent in the political affairs of Yaxchilan. Men and women are named either "Skull" (Lady Ik Skull, Jeweled Skull) or "Jaguar" (Shield Jaguar, Bird Jaguar), and the names appear to be clustered in different areas of the site (Tate 1992). The position of paramount shifted among individuals with these names throughout the Classic period (Mathews 1988). The case of the Late Classic ruler Bird Jaguar is particularly intriguing. Ten years elapsed between the

death of Shield Jaguar in AD 742 and the accession of his son Bird Jaguar. Perhaps Bird Jaguar vied for office with a rival from the Skull lineage. Tatiana Proskouriakoff (1963) suggests that Bird Jaguar was not the designated heir. Bird Jaguar's mother Lady Ik Skull was not the same individual who is named as Shield Jaguar's principal consort, Lady Xoc. Bird Jaguar's building program suggests that his position as paramount was insecure (Schele and Freidel 1990). Bird Jaguar departed from his father's style by depicting himself with figures other than his consort, such as a visiting dignitary from Yaxha, and his own cahals, one of whom was his brother-in-law. A monument was even erected in his tributary site of La Pasadita commemorating his visit to the local cahal (Schele and Mathews 1991). Thus, the emphasis is on Bird Jaguar's building a new power base in the absence of more traditional mechanisms for the transition of authority. Yaxchilan Structure 1 (Schele and Miller 1986:210-13) may provide further evidence of internal competition. Lintel 6 (Fig. 13.6), dated seven months after Bird

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Fig. 13.8 Lintel 58, Structure 54, Yaxchilan, depicts Bird Jaguar (right) attended by his brother-in-law (left), the cahal Great Skull. Drawing from Graham and von Euw 1977. Jaguar's accession, shows Bird Jaguar and his cahal holding jaguar paw clubs, and the text identifies the cahal as the captor of an important noble named Jeweled Skull. Lintel 8 (Fig. 13.7) depicts Bird Jaguar and the same cahal later menacing Jeweled Skull and a captive

cahal. This scene contains motifs of the goggle-eyed Mexican rain deity Tlaloc, which generally appears in pictures showing defeated lords with emblem glyphs of different polities. The fact that Jeweled Skull has no emblem glyph suggests that Bird Jaguar perceived his

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the events shown in the panel (Schele and Miller 1986:226). Alliance and struggle

Fig. 13.9 The Kimbell panel shows a war captain (right) presenting his lord Shield Jaguar II (left) with captives. Shield Jaguar II later rewarded the noble with the position 0/cahal. Drawing from Schele and Miller 1986.

competitive status as analogous, but that Jeweled Skull came from within the Yaxchilan polity. Lesser officials, who were often blood relations, joined the struggle among highest-ranking elites as a way of advancing their own social positions. The cahal Great Skull Zero, brother of Bird Jaguar's consort, may have risen to prominence in this way. In the Great Skull family compound (Structure 54), Great Skull Zero, who holds up a battle-axe, is shown with Bird Jaguar, who holds a God K scepter signifying divine sanction of his right to rule (Fig. 13.8). The Kimbell panel (Fig. 13.9), which probably comes from Laxtunich in the Usumacinta river valley about AD 785, demonstrates how nobles enhanced their status by serving their lords in war. It depicts a noble dressed in a military outfit, presenting captives to his lord Shield Jaguar II, who succeeded Bird Jaguar at Yaxchilan in AD 771. Monuments now in Europe record that Shield Jaguar II seated this noble as a cahal two and one half years after

Alliance was a method of augmenting the political and economic strength of a ruler. Alliance partners might contribute military aid, provide high-status goods with which to buy supporters' fealty, or lend their prestige. Alliances appear in the inscriptions as marriages, or more precisely as parentage statements implying marriage, and as visitations by paramounts or their representatives that mark the celebration of significant events such as accession, heir-naming, or katun endings through rituals of consumption. In general they range more widely than wars (Mathews 1986; Stuart 1989; Schele and Mathews 1991). Some marriages linked distant polities, for example the alliance between a woman of Palenque and the ruler of Copan (Fash 1989). Other marriages may have been attempts to consolidate territory within a polity. For example, the consort of Ruler 3 at Piedras Negras may have come from an independent place known as the Serpent Segment Site, between the large centers of Piedras Negras and Yaxchilan, which may have been disputed by the two centers (Miller 1989). Dos Pilas illustrates how by Late Classic times many high-ranking dynasties had established marriage ties both with secondary centers within their polity and with other polities (Mathews 1986). The inscriptions record marriages with the independent polities of El Chorro, Itzan, Tamarindito, Naranjo, and probably Tikal. Lineage members also ruled the dependent centers of Aguas Calientes, La Amelia, El Caribe, Seibal, and Chapayal. Many Mayanists believe that marriages contribute political stability, but the borderline between alliance and conflict was tenuous. Competition for advantageous marriages must have been keen, and arrangements might be canceled if relations soured or if more favorable opportunities arose. Since the Maya nobility practiced polygyny, the end result of marriage alliances would have been to increase the number of claimants to power. Marriages would have produced many offspring who could make competing claims to office, and the ubiquitous appearance of royal titles in the inscriptions bears out this prediction. The rules of inheritance made women pivotal in the transfer of power (Hopkins 1988). The monuments indicate that women served as regents to underaged offspring as at Piedras Negras (e.g., Proskouriakoff 1960) and even ruled centers such as Palenque (Hopkins 1988)

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Table 13.2. Royal visits, marriages, and warfare (or warfare re-enactment) between polities recorded in glyphic texts from the Classic period (from Schele and Mathews 1991). The data refer only to inter-polity relations involving foreign emblem glyphs but reflect the overall trend from alliance building to conflict (Marcus 1976). Interaction

Number

Date range

Median date

Royal visits Interdynastic marriage Warfare

20 9 16

AD 435-790 AD 662-780 AD 56^794

AD 537 AD 702 AD 738

on a permanent basis. Since titles were largely passed down patrilineally, a woman might inherit a high position, and if she herself did not rule, her husband would. If a son succeeded, rulership would pass to the lineage of the husband, and this switch in power relationships would potentially have been another source of conflict. The political significance of women also appears archaeologically. Excavators have discovered elaborate female burials at several Classic period sites. Structural change: factionalism in Classic Maya society As competition intensified, the Maya pursued a strategy of alliance formation (Table 13.2) which may have increased the scale of violence and eliminated elite leadership. The political vacuum left by weakened dynasties encouraged pretenders and outsiders to bid for power. A radical transformation of society ensued. Competition in the southern Lowlands was evident by the Late Preclassic period. There are signs of warfare and site abandonment. Fortifications appear at sites such as Becan (Webster 1977) and El Mirador (Dahlin 1984). Dissolution of polities began by AD 50 (e.g., Cerros). Competition is also evident in ceremonial elaboration. At Late Preclassic Cerros, Lamanai, Tikal, El Mirador, and Uaxactun, Maya elites competed by constructing strikingly similar stepped pyramids decorated with large masks flanking the central stairways (Freidel 1986; Pendergast 1986; Matheny 1986). The stela cult reveals that factionalism spread during the Early Classic period. Around AD 238 the inscriptions shifted from ceremonial bloodletting to a focus on individual rulers: their birth, parentage, accession, right to rule, and significant events that he or she celebrated with family, officials, and clients (e.g., bloodletting, katun period endings, and elimination of rivals) (Mathews 1985:49). At first, the Maya experimented with royal portraits, but by the Period of Uniformity (9.12.15.0.0 to 9.16.5.0.0

or AD 687 to 756), the style and motif of monuments were particularly homogeneous and conservative. The Maya erected more than one half of all known monuments during this eighty-year period. The majority of non-local emblem glyphs occurred on these stelae, and the emphasis was on alliances, including marriages (Marcus 1976). At the end of the Late Classic and into the Terminal Classic period, the inscriptions shifted from alliance to warfare and what we interpret as commemoration of warfare through ritual gladiatorial combat. At Yaxchilan, for example, Shield Jaguar credited himself with four captives. Bird Jaguar was the captor of twenty. Shield Jaguar II captured at least ten nobles over a period of five years. From AD 692 to the beginning of the ninth century, a multiplicity of "Venus events," perhaps ritual gladiatorial combats involving captives, indicate a crescendo of bloodshed. Such rituals brought the war home by re-enacting battles through ceremonial combat with defeated warriors. While the last monuments at sites such as Piedras Negras, Yaxchilan, and Bonampak all declared victory, these polities dissolved soon afterwards (Miller 1989). This turn of events is just what one would expect from political factionalism. Marriage alliances among polities transferred violence from a local level to a regional scale, synchronizing warfare. Political instability from violence provided an opportunity for new players and former losers to enter the political game. At the end of the Late Classic period and especially in the Terminal Late Classic period many smaller sites began erecting monuments (Marcus 1976). From AD 830-909, over 40 percent of the centers erected monuments for the first time. Uaxactun, formerly dominated by Tikal, recommenced inscriptions. However, centers that erected the majority of earlier monuments declined. For example, at Copan after AD 780 inscriptions appeared in the residences of the local nobles, and some nobles in small outlying sites even had their own emblem glyphs. The last known ruler,

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Yax-Pac, was recorded as making royal visits to outlying sites, rather than receiving subordinates at his seat of power, a sure sign of weakness (Fash 1989). Lesser elites were taking advantage of the political upheaval. Non-first-born sons who had founded smaller centers (Mathews and Willey 1991) and cahals who had served paramounts may have seized power and prestige. The result was political fragmentation in the southern Lowlands with small political units asserting their genealogical or even ethnic identity. Maya from the north and west may also have manipulated the fragmented political conditions to their advantage. In Terminal Classic/Early Postclassic times, buildings and ceramics show connections with Yucatan or the Chontalpa (Fox 1987). It is not certain whether the Maya of Yucatan and the Chontalpa were extending their spheres southward or whether colonists replaced local elites. At Colha, evidence for change in ethnicity follows the assassination of the indigenous dynasty. Excavators found thirty decapitated and defleshed skulls of men, women, and children in a pit at the base of a purposively destroyed pyramid (Hester, Shafer, and Eaton 1982). The Itza and Xiu and allied lineages from the Chontalpa intermarried with local elites and became the dominant political force in the areas into which they migrated. Interlopers may have specifically used alliances as a way of insinuating their presence and eventually establishing hegemony. In early historic times, Paxbalon's successful empire building in Campeche was based upon collaboration with the Spaniards, including the marriage of his daughter to a prominent Spanish immigrant (Scholes and Roys 1948). The ritual dimension of political factionalism

Fig. 13.10 The Leiden plaque shows a ruler at his inauguration in AD 320. The paramount wears a jaguar headdress and stands over a noble war captive and potential sacrificial victim with deer antlers. Drawing from Schele and Miller 1986.

Classic Maya ritual centered on recounting the victories of the ruling lineage and proclaimed to all that the paramount had the right to rule and the power to defend his clients. Ceremonial celebrations provided the ruler with a forum for rewarding courageous supporters with feasts in their honor, promotions to higher office, and monuments showing loyal cahals attending him. The rites also rallied commoners by emphasizing "ethnic" differences from other political units, using a predatorprey theme. The ruler assumed the form of a jaguar or vulture, the top predators of earth and sky, and opponents assumed the role of the prey, deer or peccary (Figs. 13.5 and 13.10). For instance, in the Leiden plaque (Fig. 13.10), the ruler Balam-Ahau-Chaan announces his accession in AD 320 wearing a jaguar headdress and standing over a bound captive with a deer antler and an

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ahau or lord sign on his head marking him as a defeated noble (Schele and Miller 1986:120-1) The predator-prey theme marks accession and katun endings of the cuch rite (Fig. 13.2). Lintel 6 at Yaxchilan (Fig. 13.6) shows that Bird Jaguar, dressed as a jaguar, and his cahal clawed Jeweled Skull with jaguar clubs that they hold, enacting predatory roles. We interpret Lintel 8 (Fig. 13.7) as a separate rite involving ritual gladiatorial combat or battle re-enactment held at the ceremonial/political center rather than field warfare.3 Present-day Maya rituals (Vogt 1976, Bricker 1981), such as Carnival and Saint Sebastian in Highland Chiapas and Guatemala, enact gladiatorial combats. Today, jaguars and their companions the blackmen, who may originally have been vultures, survive, and the bull has replaced the deer. Carnival is also marked by the display of the instruments of Christ's torment, especially his being whipped, nailed to the cross, and speared in the side. These actions have precolumbian counterparts in bloodletting, scaffold sacrifice, and spearing. Different facets of Classic Maya ritual embodied sanctions providing control over different segments of society. Nobles viewed the gladiatorial combats and ceremonial sacrifices as documentation of elite lineage disputes. The ethnic dimension validated the patronclient relationship with those of lower status. The predator-prey drama exaggerated the contrasts between the group members and "outsiders," who might be people living in the adjacent polity. The ecological and economic dimension of political factionalism

Shifting economic and ecological factors played a significant role in the patterns that we perceive. We note that the intensity of factionalism varied according to whether wetland or dryland farming was the dominant mode of agriculture and especially whether intensive or extensive technologies prevailed. We also have preliminary evidence for political consequences of changes in sea level and climate. There is a contradiction between optimum geographical area and optimum political unit in many tropical areas. The tropical forest environment is relatively fragile, and population density tends to be low. Elite power depends on maximizing population mass and hence income from tribute. Institutionalization of authority was widespread by the Late Preclassic period in areas where fertile soils had relatively high potential for surplus production. Peten

had relatively large areas of productive soils. Swidden would have been the dominant form of agriculture with some double cropping. In northern Belize, the best soils were peats lining the river flood plains. By 1400 BC the Maya farmed these wetland soils intensively in the dry season along with upland soils in the wet season, and in the Late Preclassic they ditched these wetland fields for drainage to counteract rising water levels. The agricultural base allowed successful farmers in northern Belize and adjacent Peten, Guatemala, to pursue political ambitions. As early as the Preclassic period competition was more intense in the rainfall-dependent areas than in the wetland areas. In dryland areas emergent elites would have had to try to increase income by controlling labor, i.e., increasing tributaries, and hence polities would have collided sooner. As elites tried to bring larger areas under jurisdiction, they may have increased military control to force farmers to subscribe to the patron-client relationship. Elites may also have invested more heavily in display in an effort to tie supporters to a specific locality and counteract the centripetal tendencies of swidden farming. In northern Belize, productive wetland cultivation tied farmers to the land, especially after they increased their investment and perhaps improved their tenurial status with intensive canal building in Late Preclassic times. Wetland farming during the dry season combined with upland cultivation in the wet season would have provided stable, year-round surplus, which could be dedicated to elite institutions. In Terminal Classic/Early Postclassic times, the balance of power shifted. Political factionalism decimated the polities in the rainfall-dependent areas of Peten while environmental changes permitted the resurgence of wetland farming and continued support of centers in northern Belize in the wetland zone. Structural change: the commoners

As the Late Classic period progressed, the number of housemounds in many areas of the southern Lowlands reached maximum density. Lake cores and flood plain sediments from both Peten, Guatemala, and northern Belize (e.g., Vaughan, Deevey, and Garrett-Jones 1985) provide evidence for extensive deforestation, erosion, and loss of soil nutrients by the Terminal Classic period. Elite monopoly of the best lands probably accentuated commoner problems with falling agricultural production. One would expect that commoners experienced increasing conflict over land within families, among neighbors, and between polities. Such conflict would

Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands have come at a time when elite patrons, who traditionally protected their clients' land, were more and more preoccupied with their own inter- and intradynastic warfare. Historically the absence of elite land protection resulted in dislocation of populations (Jones 1991). In many respects the interests of elites and commoners were diverging as they competed for scarce resources. The case of forest resources provides a good example of the problem. The competitive bids for power by the elites required active building programs, necessitating wood for beams and lintels and especially for the production of plaster through firing of limestone. Warfare and raiding no doubt necessitated the erection of wooden barriers around elite compounds. The commoners depended on forest products for houses, firewood, production of household ceramics, medicines, and canoes. Firewood consumption undoubtedly constituted a significant cause of deforestation. Present-day rates of consumption are estimated at one ton per capita per year (Abrams and Rue 1988). Nobles wanted commoner labor and the prestige goods that commoners paid in tribute, especially cotton textiles for display, prestations, payment of brideprice, and funerary offerings. The production of cotton textiles was labor-intensive given the technology available to the prehistoric Maya, i.e., in the absence of pesticides, the cotton gin, and sophisticated weaving equipment. Elite demands for service and the destruction of resources resulting from endemic warfare may have disrupted commoner subsistence. Rival nobles may have exploited commoner discontent in mustering support for their bids for power at the end of the Classic period. One strategy that relatively resource-poor second sons and ambitious cahals might have used would have been to promise commoners reduction in tribute or more equitable land distribution, a tactic employed historically in nineteenth-century Yucatan for example (Bricker 1981). It is clear that by the end of the Classic period patronclient relationships, always fragile, fell apart and that while elite rivals were killing each other off, many commoners in the southern Lowlands dropped out, as evident in the dramatic decline in housemounds at sites in Peten, Guatemala, and southern Mexico by AD 950. Some commoners may simply have dropped out of sight, i.e., built houses at ground level rather than on mounds. With the disappearance of elites, there would have been less incentive to engage in former patterns of consumption inherent in the patron-client relationship such as investment in elaborate house construction.

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Pollen from the central Peten lakes (Brenner, Leyden, and Binford 1990) and from dog coprolites at Tikal (Wiseman, pers. comm. 1987) indicates the continued presence of cultivators. In fact the evidence from central Peten suggests that farmers may have persisted throughout the Postclassic period and that the forest only regenerated about the time the Spaniards arrived and disrupted native populations. Don Rice (1986) stresses the continuation of elite culture in the erection of monuments and construction of temple structures in central Peten and suggests that commoners coalesced around the new nobles who may have come from Yucatan or the Chontalpa. At Copan, commoners carried on in the absence of their masters, and they continued to inhabit the area for four hundred years after elites erected the last monument (Rue 1987). At some sites such as Tikal (Culbert 1973) commoners moved into the elite precincts using former palaces and temples as residences. We suggest that commoners at Tikal who were resetting stelae and redepositing looted tomb offerings were appropriating Maya ceremonialism for their own much as they later appropriated Christianity. Northern Belize is distinctive for continuity of civilization through the "Collapse" in the ninth and tenth centuries AD. A significant factor in the lack of disruption in northern Belize must have been renewed opportunities for wetland farming, which probably dated to the Terminal Classic/Early Postclassic period and perhaps later. Wetland farming would have provided surplus for elites and reduced pressures on commoners. These tributaries supported the elites throughout the Postclassic period at sites such as Lamanai (Pendergast 1986). Many Maya may have left the southern Lowlands, moving to the northern Lowlands where growing polities such as Chichen Itza, Uxmal, and Sayil would have welcomed new tributaries. Structural change: Terminal Classic and Postclassic Maya society in Yucatan

Terminal Late Classic and Postclassic rulership in Yucatan had a different balance of power. The focus shifted from a single dominant divine lord to groups of rulers, and mul tepal or cojoined rule (Schele and Freidel 1990) characterized the major political units. In addition, the highest ranking priest, the Balam, governed the entire country katun by katun, rotating the office among qualified nobles (Edmonson 1982:25-6). The Postclassic strategy of confining the principal players to a single center such as Mayapan (perhaps in effect holding some

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hostage) and providing for rotation of power through the katun cycle may have permitted some periods of relatively centralized rule. Nevertheless, the overall result was renewed conflict with more contestants. The priestly ranks gained power in the wake of Classic-period factional disputes among lords over the more secular political positions. By Postclassic times the Maya were ceasing to build pyramids to house their deified rulers. Instead elite construction focused on deities; an example is the Temple of the Feathered Serpent or Quetzalcoatl at Mayapan. The arrangement of the structures may have changed. Diane Chase (1986:366) notes that although Late Postclassic sites were probably arranged in barrios like Classic sites, there was a tendency toward more central areas with both religious and administrative structures. At Mayapan, for example, the Temple of the Feathered Serpent lay at the center of the site. Monuments no longer focused on the divine paramount; ritual paraphernalia such as censers ceased to represent rulers and were totally given over to the portrayal of gods (Freidel 1986:297). Competing lineages may have intentionally shifted the attention to deities as well as sharing of responsibility for political office to dampen factionalism in the Postclassic period, or more likely this arrangement was the logical outcome of Classic-period factionalism. Priests usurped the metaphorical role of the secular rulers. The high priest not only wore the insignia of the snake, symbolizing his connection with caves, cenotes, oracles, and the ancestors, he had become the jaguar (Balam), the animal supernatural that secular rulers had represented in the Classic period. The katun celebrations over which the Balam presided contained the celebration of the history and myth of the ruling lineages. Spanish observations of native life provide more evidence for the increasing power of priests. Bishop Landa (Roys 1962:60) recounted continuing factionalism after the fall of Mayapan, and his remarks betray the fact that descendants of priests such as the Chel lineage were laying claim to rulership: "the Chel said that he was as good as they (the Cocom and Xiu) in lineage, since he was the grandson of the most esteemed priest of Mayapan." Conclusion

Political factionalism played the critical role in shaping Lowland Maya society. Our hypothesis is that conflict originated with those who had close connections. Elite competition over positions of power and the means of supporting them started among members of a lineage,

between lineages within a polity, or between adjacent polities. Contenders formed alliances with outsiders in an effort to achieve dominance, but the result was to increase the number of players with a vested interest in the outcome of the dispute. Thus, a strategy of alliance would in the end intensify competition. Competition was widespread in the southern Maya Lowlands by Late Preclassic times after 400 BC. Elite investment in pyramids and fortifications attests to the need to attract followers and defend assets. In the Early Classic period after AD 200, nobles began to record their relationships with one another in inscriptions. Early Classic elites recorded alliances in the form of visitations among polities and a few marriages, all apparently within the polity. By Late Classic times, lords cemented ties by attending significant ceremonies at each other's centers and intermarrying with other polities as well as within their own political sphere. A significant change occurred during the course of the Late Classic period. Records of warfare and ritual gladiatorial combat increase, and archaeological evidence for fortifications reinforces this picture of a combative society. The last monuments at sites such as Yaxchilan, Bonampak, and Piedras Negras all recorded victory, but these polities disappeared soon afterwards. As Classic elite society was wreaking destruction upon itself, political systems underwent a change in configuration. Outsiders from the Gulf Coast area of Chontalpa entered the Classic Maya heartland and wrested power from the indigenous nobility. Power shifted from the divine ruler to joint rule, and the priests were an increasingly significant political force. There were now more contenders than ever, and the foreign nobles were not able to curb factionalism within their own ranks. The situation was ripe for exploitation by the invading Spaniards, and many Maya nobles, preoccupied as they were with their petty rivalries, actually joined with the Europeans in crushing their own people. The data on commoners are much more sparse, but we suspect that they were preoccupied with their own conflicts over land, inheritance, and so forth. They looked to elite patrons for physical and divine protection and dispute resolution, and Maya lords and later the Spanish conquerors recognized an opportunity to extract goods and labor in exchange for their services. Nevertheless, when elite political systems weakened or when commoners perceived that they were unduly exploited, they became mobile and difficult to control. This pattern occurred repeatedly but was especially prevalent with political chaos at the end of the Classic period (ninth to tenth centuries AD), with the breakup of the League of

Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands Mayapan in Late Postclassic times (mid-fifteenth century AD), and with turmoil in elite government caused by the arrival of the Spaniards and additional taxation that they imposed (sixteenth and seventeenth centuries AD). The native nobility manipulated commoners to support their inter- and intra-dynastic struggles through such devices as ritual re-enactments of their victories on the battlefield. This fostering of "ethnic" identity made it difficult for commoners to unite in resisting exploitation. Nevertheless, commoners may have used this ritual, divisive as it is, as a means of self-preservation on the community level. Local Maya fashioned their own brand of resistance by appropriating ritualism as early as the Terminal Late Classic period at Tikal. Under Spanish domination, the Mayas' most effective strategy for maintaining cultural integrity has been syncretization of indigenous ceremonialism with Christianity, a process compatible with their view that events continually repeat themselves within a basic structure, i.e., the victorvanquished theme. Our paper suggests that characteristics of Maya social and political organization resulted in recurrent patterns of competition. We see Maya society of the Postclassic period as being similar to Classic civilization in the variables that produced factional competition. Postclassic society was different in that it represented the outcome of the structural changes that competition had produced. A cknowledgments We would like to thank Elizabeth Brumfiel and John Fox for inviting us to participate in this volume and providing valuable feedback in shaping our paper.

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Others who have generously taken the time to provide us with help are Arlen and Diane Chase, Clemency Coggins, Kathryn Josserand, Nicholas Hopkins, John Henderson, Nikolai Grube, and Peter Mathews. Notes 1 We are using the period designations Preclassic, Classic, Terminal Classic, and Postclassic loosely in this paper. It has become increasingly apparent that this system of named and dated periods does not apply to the Maya Lowlands, precisely because of the factionalism described in this paper. For example, the Late Preclassic period ended at AD 200 in Peten, Guatemala, but lasted until AD 400 in Yucatan. At some sites there never was any Terminal Classic period. 2 The Late Classic Bonampak murals show the same gladiatorial combat ceremony as that commemorated in the Yaxchilan lintels. The paintings in Room 2 of Bonampak show a mass sacrifice while the Yaxchilan lintels focused only on the central characters. At Bonampak the ruler Chaan-Muan grasps the hair of his captive just as Bird Jaguar and his cahal grasp Jeweled Skull and the defeated cahal in Yaxchilan Lintel 8. The jaguar and vulture sacrificers appear at positions 28 and 54 (see Miller 1986, Fig. 2 for numerical designations and their positions). In the facing panel the central captive is not specifically represented as a deer, but the priestlyfigurestanding above him is dressed as that animal. The dead captive's body is covered with long scratch marks, perhaps representing the gashes left by a jaguar paw club or mitt similar to objects shown in Yaxchilan Lintel 6 (Fig. 13.6) and Dos Pilas Stela 16 (Fig. 13.5).

14 Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya JOHN W. FOX

Numerology and political calculus

To summarize the Popol Vuh (1971:3-19), in the night sky Orion was the Creator of the cosmic order - The Heart of Heaven - who wedded the celestial beings (constellations) with the Green Feathered Serpent (K'ucumatz). The Serpent bore the thirteen celestial bodies and eventually the Sun, which arose shortly after the Quiche ancestors were created. Thirteen political divisions were welded together on the cosmic model. Thus, the Quiche designed their communities as miniature versions of the cosmos that unified the Upperworld (sky: Kaf), Middleworld (earth: Uleu), and Underworld (Xibalba) into a single political field. Statuses within the body politic were thought to be celestially preordained. In essence, the sun's daily path provided a cosmogram for managing a separate sacred

Introduction: competition among segmentary lineages

The Lowland Mayan ancestors of the Quiche entered the Guatemalan Highlands at the close of the Classic period (AD late 800s), and confederated during the Early Postclassic (AD 1100s). Factionalism permeated these political fields. This chapter examines the political and ideological transformations that resulted from competition (1) between the contending Quiche groups as well as (2) between the Quiche and the peoples they subjugated. In both contexts, the Venusian calendar for lineage identities and for timing battles intermeshed with the 260-day calendar for personal prognostication (e.g. Popol Vuh 1971:243^4); the solar calendar bound competing lineages within a state. The inter-digitating of the three calendars furnished an ideological calculus for spacing the contentious descent groups and for allotting political prerogatives. In essence, as celestial bodies traveled through various calendrical repetitions, the social actors vied for identities and privileges that mirrored cosmic orderings. The incessant competition for prestige and political leverage provided a dynamic propelling transformation of egalitarian alliances to successively more coercive and hierarchical social exchange. The chain of political contests from ethnohistory correlates with successive transformations in settlement patterns. That is, power relations are reflected in site plans where specific architecture of known lineages is keyed to specific solar, lunar, planetary, and stellar positions and clusters, especially solstices, equinoxes, conjunctions, and helical risings/settings. 158

w Q

(Venus)

UNDERWORLD

Fig. 14.1 Arrangement of the four Quiche major lineages according to the cardinal directions. The four groups were unified by the cyclical movements of the sun, moon, and Venus. The Sky Serpent, K'ucumatz, is reconstructed from Quichean sculpture (e.g., Fox 1981:Fig.6); the drawing of the Classic Maya crocodilian, center, is from Schele and Miller (1986:45). While the earth emerged as a mountain from the sea illuminated by the Sky Serpent (Topol Vuh 1971:12-13), it was probably conceptualized as round and divided within by a cross.

Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya direction by each group (Fig. 14.1). In the counterclockwise movement of the sun (Kij), east (E) signified the newborn sun and political ascendancy, north (N) the overarching sun at midday and high authority, west (W) the sun's decline towards dusk - associated with fertility - and finally south (S) the malnourished sun - as a decapitated Junajpu - traversing the dark and foreboding Underworld of the night sky. Furthermore, the sun (right) and Venus (left, E was up aboriginally) were carried E to W by the two-headed Sky Serpent (K'ucumatz). This reptile provided the metaphor for common descent and for lineage fissioning and migration like the ever-moving head of Junajpu in the ball game myth. Then, the planets were carried N-S along the ecliptic or the Milky Way during the night conceptualized as a world tree (Schele 1992:132). Quiche aboriginal maps are circular for the concentric circles of Orion on a turtle carapace at the heart of the cosmos (see Fox and Fernandez n.d.). In fact, the outermost of three rings in the Sacapulas map shows twentyeight place markers, perhaps for the twenty-eight repetitions of thirteen day names of the solar calendar (see Carmack 1973:355-8, 366). Significantly, twenty-eight days constituted a lunation (actual sidereal period was 27j and the synodic period was 29y). As we shall see, the contrived numerology of calendrics, community design, and political history was intertwined. Towns within radii of 20 to 40 km were apportioned along the four cardinal points of a world cross or four inter-cardinal points which intersected at the capital city (Fox 1989:671-2). Upon achieving statehood, metaphorically referred to as the "sunrise," the capital (a Tuldn or tecpan) became the circular (i.e., Orion) "center of the sky and of the earth, of the four sides and of the four corners" (Totonicapan 1983:185). In settlement design, the Middleworld was transposed as a circular main plaza (the turtle) in Early Postclassic radial-temple centers (e.g., three cosmic crosses were pecked into the highest point of Chuitinamit-Atitlan) and as a four-cornered geographic cross for the Late Postclassic main plazas. In each were buildings for politicoritual integration: (1) a radial-temple for the solar deity (stairways radiating to the world directions), aligned with (2) an I-shaped sunken ballcourt of the Underworld, and (3) a small circular temple for the Sky Serpent arching over the Upperworld (Fig. 14.3). In overview, vertical and horizontal space were ideologically sectioned. The most important integers for uniting time, space, and people were 3 and 4 and 9 and 13. The first pair reflects the three celestial brothers (sun,

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moon, and Venus) and the four for cardinal directions. The second pair refers to the nine lunations in the 260-day calendar as well as thirteen lunations in the 365-day calendar. The latitude of Utatlan, the last Quiche capital, was specifically "programmed" for the astronomical symmetries of the 260-day calendar and its thirteen day names and twenty months. The Upperworld and Underworld held thirteen and nine levels each (Totonicapan 1983:168), as there were four, five, nine and thirteen tiers on Utatlan's solar temple (4 tiers + 1 for the base of the superstructure = 5, + 4 more tiers for 1 facade = 9, + 4 more tiers for its third side =13; the fourth side lacked tiers). As shall be increasingly more evident, 3 signified motion of becoming, whereas 4 signaled a full round. Adding 3 + 4, 7 meant celestial apex, with 6 ascending steps for the Upperworld + 1 the summit + 6 descending steps = 13 (for completion). Or, these nodes 7 + 1 3 = the vigesimal 20. Schematically, the 4 cardinal points + the 4 intercardinal points for the solstices (Fig. 14.6) + 1 for the centerpoint = 9. So too, 4 points (x3) for the Upper, Middle, and Underworld (12) + 1 for the centerpoint = 13. Finally, the critical 4 x 13 (as in 4 stations of Venus and the 13 ritual days in the Dresden Codex) = 52 for the calendar round. More can be discerned about cosmic "layering" of political geography. At the core, the innermost concentric "ring of Utatlan," + the 3 provincial rings = 4 full circular divisions (Fig. 14.6). The unfolding state adding successive rings modeled after Orion: 1st) 5 units for Utatlan (the center 4- 4 barrios); 2nd) + 4 outer provinces = 9; and a 3rd) ring of 4 more = 13 divisions of the state at its maximum (Fig. 14.6; cf. Tambiah 1977:70-1). The documents speak variously of the 9 groups and the 9 Cawek and Nijaib lineages among 13 confederates who gathered at Utatlan, as the 13 groups once congregated at the 7 caves of Tulan (Xajil 1953:4850). More broadly, 13 signified "all of the peoples" as 13 deital guises for constellations are given in the Popol Vuh (1971:3-5, 159). One Quiche dynastic list of 13 rulers clearly reveals how political history was cast within calendrical idiom. Radiocarbon dating would suggest nearly twice the number of rulers, and the kings listed in the Popol Vuh, Titulo Yax and Titulo Totonicapan do not agree. Yet the sequencing of 13 generations in the Titulo Yax (Carmack and Mondloch 1989:87) unmasks the calendrical chronology:

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Generation ruler 1 Balam Quitze 3 Popol

4 Cotuja

5 K'ucumatz

7 Q'uik'ab

9 Tecum I 13 Tecum Uman

Calendrical symbolism Migrates in a group of 3 or 4 headmen from Tuldn during the "night" to Jacawitz. Jackawitz (Venus) is abandoned along with alliance triads, signified by 3. Pop means mat for leadership. Venus and the sun merge at "dawn." The first cycle terminates with the addition of the 4th major lineage (Sakic) of direct "Toltec" descent. The sun ascends for a legitimate state (a Tuldn); the Feathered Sky Serpent with its Pleiades tail also rises. The political maximum of the Quiche state with the solar zenith, and the seven stars of Orion. The Nijaib (W) garners power as the state declines and the sun descends to the W horizon. The "aboriginal sun" sets with new lords (Spaniards), and a new "sun" rises for the colonial period.

Each major lineage in their quarter of Utatlan corporately assumed attributes of the corresponding cardinal direction (Fig. 14.1): the Ajaw resided S (as the firstborn group of rank, Venus); the Cawek looked E as the spokesman of the newly risen sun; the Nijaib faced W as warriors under the declining sun/moon; and the Sakic resided N, were last arrived, and furnished "Toltec" pedigree for kingly succession. At celestial N today, while the constellations appear to rotate around the "fixed" circumpolar star, Polaris, during AD 900-1500 the North Star was perhaps 15 degrees removed. As in cosmic design, the wedge-shaped quarters intersected in the main plaza. The Maya glyph for the sun (kin) was written as a diagonally quartered circle (Figs. 14.1, 14.5, 14.6), with two ends for the winter (SE) and summer (NE) solstitial sunrises and the opposite ends (SW, NW) for the solstitial sunsets. The cardinal and inter-cardinal points were thus points of political transformation. Direct N, then, was a black void, and was conceptualized as the drop off to the place of ancestors (Schele, pers. comm.).

Rendered spatially, each of the crossbars of the glyphic "X" divided moieties near the circular Temple of K'ucumatz (Fig. 14.4). So the four major lineages coupled into counterpoised moieties: the Cawek and Sakic of the "day" pitted against the Ajaw and Nijaib of the "night." In this scheme, the original Ajaw and Cawek each paired with a lineage from the vicinity (Nijaib, Sakic), so that the moieties cleaved along the NE-SW axis for the solstitial summer sunrise and winter sunset. Yet a second diagonal (Figs. 14.4, 14.5) joined the old-line Ajaw and Cawek along the solstitial winter sunrise/summer sunset axis. Awaiting the dawn by confederated warriors during the Early Postclassic

Three or four Quiche lineage heads migrated to the pioneer site, Jacawitz, among the thirteen Quichean

Fig. 14.2a Plan of Jacawitz. The kinship-political groups associated with plazas conform to cardinality; the Cawek burned incense north to Tojil and the Ajaw burned incense south to Jacawitz f Popol Vuh 1971:178-9).

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Fig. 14.2b Jacawitz (Chitinamit), Chujuyup. The elevated Cawek plaza (left) is separated from the lower Ajaw plaza (right) by the I-shaped ballcourt. groups, perhaps coinciding with the end of a 260-year cycle and the sun setting upon the Tuldn of the W near the Chontalpa homeland (Carmack and Mondloch 1989:79-80; Xajil 1953:45). Thus, the collapse of lowland states and the rise of the Postclassic states were conceptualized as old and new "suns." Highly ranked peoples arrived at Tuja, Sacapulas, in the highlands with codices (e.g., Sacapulas 1968:261), and a version of the time-honored long count resurfaced among the Cakchiquel (Xajil 1953). Extrapolating from the Venus tables in the Dresden Codex, appropriate 1 Ajaw dates for founding Jacawitz, the initial Quiche town on a fortified mountaintop, would have been AD 942 and 955. The Classic Maya maize deity 1 (Jun) Ajaw transfigured into Jun Junajpu, the father of the Quiche Hero Twins. Jacawitz housed the Ajar and Cawek, whose plazas were paired upon a single platform (Fig. 14.2a-b). Both temples oriented 185 degrees S to the inferior conjunction of Venus - the opposite pole from the north star (magnetic declination is 1 degree). Etymologically, Ajaw translates as "Lords," whereas the Cawek may have derived from the day name, Cawuk. At Jacawitz, the Ajaw built the lower S plaza and their temple, Jacawitz, affixed to the S range of the ballcourt (Fig. 14.2) as the entrance to the Underworld. The Ajaw were totemically linked to Venus and their emblem was a skull for the decapitated Junajpu in Xibalba, a version of the toothy glyph for the evening star (see Ajaw petroglyph in Fox and Fernandez n.d.). In the opposite direction, Jacawitz aligned N to the "night" beacon of Sacapulas, and toward the twin peaks of Cerro Mamaj and its initial Quichean site, ChiPixab

("Warning") 3 km beyond. The "grand mountain of Mamaj-Pixab," with several small mounds today, is where the thirteen migratory peoples first assembled (Carmack and Mondloch 1989:177). The first mythic Hero Twins reached Xibalba by taking the N road into the black void along the Milky Way (the tree axis, Popol Vuh 1971:109, Fernandez 1992). Ethnographically, Xibalba also meant the liminal beings before the present "sun." As a case in point, after the light/fire of Tuldn in the "west corner of the sky" was extinguished, the ancestors migrated through an "Underworld" guided by the "great Star," Ek'ok'ij (Venus; Carmack 1973:288; Carmack and Mondloch 1989:174-6). Historiographically next, the highland enemies, bereft of the solar light occupied a Xibalba. The Blood River (Kiq'i'a), at the foot of Jacawitz, separated the Quiche from six indigenous communities of an Underworld S on lower plains (Popol Vuh 1971:69). The two centuries at Jacawitz were termed "awaiting the dawn," when indigenes were engaged in protracted wars and when incense was burned to Venus (Carmack and Mondloch 1989:177). In one episode, the Quiche were defeated and the fire was dampened as the Hero Twins were overcome by the Lords of the Underworld (Popol Vuh 1971:69). At Jacawitz, the Quiche banded together with their next of kin, the Tamub at Amak Tarn, and the Ilocab at Uquin Cat, respectively 2 and 3 km away. It was therefore for mutual defense that the "urban" tinamit took form. For wider Jacawitz was termed a tecpan (palace), clearly an anachronism (Totonicapan 1983:176). At this time, patrilineal kindred defended, cultivated, and enhanced small estates. Obligations of balanced

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reciprocity from wife exchange were transacted in comPolitical astronomy of a "galactic" capital, Utalan munal feasts of equitably connected communities, equidistantly spaced in regional triads (Popol Vuh 1971:226; Utalan may have been founded on 1 Ajaw in AD 1147/8, Fox 1989:Fig. 7). when the helical rise of the morning star for the ethnoNevertheless, the Quiche also recognized the calendri- historic dawn synchronized with recommencing of no cal and genealogical superiority (of the Yaqui?) at Tuja, less than the tzolkin, the solar year, the Venus cycle, and 20 km N (Carmack 1973:289; Carmack and Mondloch the Mars cycle, the 52-year calendar round (see Aveni 1989:177). When the triangle for the Quiche sites (Venus) 1980:197), and when Venus, Jupiter, and Saturn were in was joined at the point for the triangle (night/sun/moon) close alignment, and when Orion intersected the Milky of the Tujalja sites, the four world directions resulted Way. These auspicious dates are coeval with radiocar(see Fox 1989:Fig. 7; Fernandez 1992). Both Tuja and bon assays for initial construction of Utatlan (Brown Jacawitz align precisely at 91°05' longitude, directlyS of pers. comm.). the marker for the alliance, Cerro Negro, conceptually Quiche domination over the indigenes transformed the apex of the world Ceiba tree crowned by K'ucumatz. alliances again; they were no longer voluntary. Local Cerro Negro marked the N boundary for Quiche vassals intermarried with the Quiche - creating new speakers in the highlands. It meant "Mountain of the lineages - overseeing the working of Quiche lands (chinBlack Void", the totem for the Tujalja/Agaab, who were amit) in a tributary mode of production (Carmack the "People of Night." Tuja's radial-temple sighted the 1981:160-8). The Quiche were freed from agrarian proequinoxes; an altar in the second plaza aligned to three duction to vie with one another for privileges within identical temples E on a single platform for sighting the fortified urban tinamit. summer solstice sunrise (N temple), equinox sunrise The Quiche acquired codices (Carmack and Mond(middle), and winter solstice sunrise (S), recalling Group loch 1989:80) when they intermarried with the presE at Uaxactun. Moreover, when viewed from the radial tigious Tujalja. In their own words, the Quiche obtained temple, the N triple temple aligned 61 degrees to the full "the stone [calendar?] that came from the East with the moon on the vernal equinox in AD 1000 and the S Pison Cacal, the sign of the lordship;... behind ... Tuja temple marked the star Betelguese in Orion (also for the ... above Tujac Sak [jc'abal?], which was also called the moon, below). Tuja overlooked a cenote-like salt spring stone of'Lacandona'" (Sacapulas 1968:18). Thereafter, and had screenfold codices for astral rituals while Jaka- the celestial tables empowered the Quiche to time witz did not. Towering 5 km behind (N) Tuja was the battles, marriages, and accessions to the throne, requibeacon Cerro Negro with its Postclassic site, site for statecraft. Writing was jealously guarded by the Chusaq'abal, held by the K'ucumatz lineage (Carmack high-ranked amak. The thirty-odd Quichean land titles 1973:368) and with its own salt springs (Salinas Mag- (titulos) mostly recount pedigrees for securing privileges dalena today). Topographically, Chusaq'abal was the - the purpose of the carved stelae of the Classic period. highest peak for the region; five unique broad terraces Abrupt changes in sociopolitical organization gain there may have staged confederates to dance on nights relief in differences between Jacawitz and Utatlan, when constellations rose or set as seasonal signposts (e.g. though orientation 5 degrees off cardinality persisted: (1) the Dance of the Junajpu Coy in late July, early August the two S-oriented back-to-back plazas at Jacawitz were for the Pillar/World Tree [Fernandez 1992]), and the pressed into a single central plaza at Utatlan with buildWukup Caquix (Tedlock 1982:360), the rising of the Big ings oriented E-W; (2) duality gave way to full quadriDipper in October for the dry season/harvest; the Big partition; (3) a more vital sunrise-sunset axis derived Dipper was at zenith on November 15, AD 1000. The from Tuja with buildings for state institutions of the single lime-plastered temple on the S extremity of Chusa- main plaza aligned to the two solar equinoxes; (4) new q'abal aligned precisely to Cerro Pacbalam 5 degrees and palaces and temples were covered in lime plaster, signal9 km S, the dawning place isakiribal) for the Tujalja. ing "full lumination," and were painted in murals. Pacbalam may translate "The New Day of Jaguars" Abandonment of Jacawitz coincided with a visit by (Ximenez 1985:437). the Cawek envoy, rather than ill-fated attempts by Ajaw That the Quiche, as the warriors of Venus, came to and Nijaib competitors, to the lowland Tuldn of the E dominate the Lord Feathered Serpent (K'ucumatz, Ajaw (Copan? Tedlock 1982) to obtain insignia of rulership Can Quetzal) lineage offices of Tuja also suggests the from Nacxit, a descendant of the sun (Popol Vuh rotation of the Yearbearer Noj from the S and the helical 1971:214^19). Since Utatlan (15 degrees 01 seconds N) corresponds rise of Venus for a new calendrical "sun."

Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya

El Resguardo

Fig. 14.3 Settlement plan ofUtatlan. From Fox 1989. in latitude with Copan (51 seconds difference), and with Tuja (15 seconds difference), calendric authority was conferred along with codices (U tzibal Tulan) from probably both sites. Specific "offices" were housed in buildings aligned to the paths of stars/planets for rituals justifying enjoinment (e.g., feasts, tribute payments). And this shared latitude allows precisely the 260 days for the sun to cross the zenithal transect. Utatlan, in turn, was the "center of the earth," as Tulan and Tuja were once ascribed. At the ritual core of Utatlan, three pyramidal-temples oriented 5 degrees off cardinality suggest that positions in the solar arc were held by lineages as their "cosmic/political space" (Fig. 14.3). In this regard, the Cawek commanded alignments to the equinoxes, which intersected the ecliptic and the paths of the sun, moon, Venus, and the helical rising and setting of Orion and the Pleiades. These alignments in the

cosmic "middle" affirmed the Cawek as the spokesmen of a Tulan. Accordingly, the most exalted Cawek edifice, the Temple of Tojil, faced 5 degrees N of E (at 3 degrees altitude) to the sunrise at the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, to the helical rise of Venus as the morning star, for about 260 days, to the helical setting of the Pleiades in May, and to Orion E on the winter solstice. This radial-like temple also manifests stairways on its N and S facades for the ancestors and the "night sun" (moon). Tojil is the only temple that sits in open plaza space with vantage points to major equinoctial and zenithal rises (e.g. Carmack and Mondloch 1989:86). However, the recently formed Nijaib lineage also vied for power directly opposite Tojil. The Nijaib's Temple of Awilix faced 5 degrees N of W to the equinoctial sunsets, to Betelgeuse in Orion, and to the helical setting of the

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Fig. 14.4 Cosmogram showing the three patron temples within the quadripartite sectioning of Utat Ian.

Pleiades (Fernandez 1990:142). Therefore, the Nijaib warriors equated symbolically with the night sun/female moon descending W to battle Underworld forces. The Nijaib were identified mythically with Xbalanque (Jaguar-Deer), the hermaphrodite twin of Junajpu (Hunter) for the Cawek. And jaguar-deer is a metaphor for once vanquished peoples (prey = deer), contrasted with the hunter (see Pohl and Pohl this volume). A third giant temple for the Ajaw's patron Maya deity, Jacawitz (Carmack and Mondloch 1989:86), faced 185 degrees S for Venus in the Underworld, the firstborn sibling in Classic Mayan mythology (GI). In symbology, the animated rolling head in the ball game against the Xibalbans (Popol Vuh 1971:115-16, 123-7) represented Venus and the Ajaw. Junajpu rose as the morning star fusing into the early solar diffusion (at 7 degrees altitude). Together, the three pyramids completed an inverted isosceles configuration whose corners were E (Tojil), W (Awilix), and S (Fig. 14.4). Moreover, the point of the ritual triangle was S, to the inferior conjunction and schematically toward the solstitial sunrise

marking the year's longest night and diminished power of the sun, recalling the one-legged Tojil (Tahil at Palenque) who started the fire in his empty sandal (e.g. Recinos 1957:175). Ethnographically, Fernandez (1992) abstracts the path of the sun W as a triangle (oxib uxucut) with corners for the sunrise (relebal k'ij), high noon (nic aj Kij), and sunset (ukajibal k'ij). However, with transfer of the K'ucumatz lineage from Sacapulas, the circular Temple of K'ucumatz replaced the ballcourt as the centerpoint. As a fourth temple the cosmic whole was completed with stairways to E and W cardinality. This Cawek temple overlaid two sacred caves. The upper cave manifests multiple passages shaped like the great world Ceiba (Fox 1991) carved on Pacal's sarcophagus at Palenque. The circular shape of the temple also recalls Orion, the oracular "obsidian calendar stones," the solar disk pendant on the ballcourt murals at Chichen Itza, and the game ball. Access to the Temple of K'ucumatz from the E (Fig. 14.4) and W (Cawek) replicated the bicephalic Sky Serpent itself. Mythically, K'ucumatz was said to carry the young sun

Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya

A. Cawek

Ajaw

N B.

W

I

Junajpu

Fig. 14.5 Power of major lineages at Jacawitz (A) during the Early Postclassic period, and at Utatlan (B) during the Late Postclassic period. Note that the spatial positions for the Cawek and Nijaib are for directions their patron temples faced. A second diagonal line would pair the old guard Ajaw and Cawek. (Junajpu) within its opened jaws from the E (Fig. 14.5) and the diminishing sun (Xbalanque) W across the afternoon sky (Carmack 1981:203-^1). Then the ever-moving severed head of Junajpu traveled over each of the four major lineages as the binding fabric. Out from the triangular ritual core, smaller temples for patron deities of the major lineages were set within the more private complexes. In this regard, the Cawek palace temple (in a sense with the missing fourth stairway of the Tojil radial temple, Fig. 14.3), aligned 265 degrees SW to Venus as the evening star and to the winter solstitial sunset (Fernandez 1990:141-3). During this cycle, the size of Venus appears to increase and its

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luminosity decreases, as Junajpu descended. Moving counterclockwise, the stairway on the Ajaw palace temple oriented 247 degrees SW to the helical setting of the evening star during the inferior conjunction - presumably when Junajpu plunged into the Underworld. Next, Venus gained in brightness as the morning star rose triumphantly from the Underworld on 1 Ajaw. On the Sakic's N wing, a small temple, originally mapped by Maudslay and more recently by Fernandez, supports a circular superstructure with one notch aligned to the superior conjunction in June, when the sighting of Venus was blocked for fifty-six days before the re-emergence of the less brilliant evening star. Its stairs aligned with the sunset at summer solstice (293 degrees), the year's longest day, and cosmically N, perhaps for the Sakic's patron Niq'aq Tak'aj, ("Center of the Valley," Popol Vuh 1971:162, 230, cf. Tuja). In overview, that the less powerful Sakic and Ajaw aligned to the two Venusian conjunctions and to the two solstitial sunsets, suggests that subordination to the Cawek was expressed calendrically (Fernandez 1990). As the last building in the main plaza, the ballcourt separated the Cawek (N and W) from the Ajaw (S), as at Jakawitz; only the centrality of the court shifted with the political fortunes of the Ajaw. Nonetheless, the ballcourt aligned 85 degrees - 265 degrees to the sunrises and sunsets on the equinoxes and to the inferior conjunction of Venus in February. Since the ballcourt was equidistant (15 m) between the Cawek and Ajaw palace complexes, it ritually interdigitated the solar state authority with the Venusian military posturing. But as importantly, the ballcourt interposed the moiety of day (Cawek-Sakic) against the moiety of night (AjawNijaib). Therefore, the ballcourt split the broad symmetries of day/night, and of the rainy fertile summer from the dry winter of death. In the SW corner of the main plaza it was the gateway to the Underworld, appropriately, the mythic arena of conflict. Offices, economics, and astronomy With assertion of power by the Cawek, the Sakic and Ajaw became largely ritualists. Significantly, the Cawek offices listed in the Popol Vuh (1971:230) match the new buildings of state along the E-W solar axis aligned to the solar equinoxes, and to the Pleiades: Ajpop (ruler), Aj Pop Camja (Assistant Ruler), Aj Tojil (High Priest of Tojil), Ajk'ucumatz (High Priest of K'ucumatz), Nim CKokoj (Lineage Chairman), Lol Met (Overseer), Jom Tzalatz (Head of the

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Ballcourt), and U Chuck Camja (Mother of the Step the Sakic rotated to the ritually superordinate N quadrant at Utatlan, they paralleled movement of the north House). Yearbearer, "E." Not coincidently, the last chief at In contrast, the nine Nijaib offices were relegated to Jakawitz was also named "E." Yet the Sakic (N) were intra-lineage affairs (Popol Vuh 1971:231). Thus, the coupled with the Ajaw (S, evening star); remember both keyed the solstitial sunsets and the Venusian conjuncCawek succeeded in truncating the three rivals. Yet, considerable duplication of offices within the tions. Therefore, the four major lineages were cross contending major lineages enforced intra-lineage auth- linked: (1) the moieties of Cawek-Sakic vs. Ajaw-Nijaib; ority and autonomy (see Tambiah 1977:88). For (2) the original Ajaw and Cawek pair; (3) Sakic-Ajaw, example, lineages maintained offices corresponding to N-S; and 4) the Cawek-Nijaib, E-W. And the NW-SE their patron deity, lineage head, military captain (K'alel), diagonal at Utatlan bisected the moieties as the patron deities of the day (Tojil) and the night (Awilix) were and steward (Atzij Winak, Carmack 1981:162-3). By fusing Tojil with the sun god (Popol Vuh 1971:183), counterposed in Orion. the Cawek were able to manipulate the others. Certainly To bear out the partitioning further, the Ajaw and the Temple of Tojil was integrative: three stairways faced Nijaib aligned their buildings near cardinality, whereas the Nijaib, Ajaw, and Sakic. Tribute payments, termed the Cawek and Sakic lacked orthogonality. The fourth total, were paid to Tojil (Popol Vuh 1985:131) during the Quiche leader, and the first enthroned ajpop (king) was February New Year's celebration sparking cosmic Cotuja from Tuja (Ajaw Tuja, Popol Vuh 1971:223-4, regeneration (Carmack 1973:295). Next, Tojil aligned to Totonicapan 1953:183). That an outsider came to lead the sunrise on May 1 for receiving thefirstpassage of the the Cawek, however, negates strict patrilineal succession sun across the zenith announcing the helical setting of - and suggests factionalism. Two calendar rounds later, the Pleiades (motz for seeds), and signaling the planting the 1st Ajaw fell on AD 1252, which would have ushered and the rainy season (Broda 1982; Fernandez 1992). in a new cycle along perhaps with the Sakic, coeval with Roughly 180 days later (Popol Vuh 1971:243), the dry radiocarbon dating of the fourth plaza, El Resguardo season and the harvest commenced when the Big Dipper (Fig. 14.3). However, his son, ruler 5, K'ucumatz, was rose (Seven-Macaw, Tedlock 1982), as the Pleiades set firmly enthroned as a Cawek. and Orion arched overhead (Fernandez 1992). Correspondingly, the fifth plaza with a palace for Fernandez 1992 notes that the three temples forming a K'ucumatz was constructed at Pakamam on the eastern triangular core at Utatlan were sighted to three bright perimeter of Utatlan for receiving armies returning from stars in the constellation Orion - the "Heart of Heaven." glorious conquests (Fox 1978:30). Following Loundsbury and Tedlock. Schele (1992) The Cawek and the Sakic seem to have blended in observes that Orion was a turtle over the triangular their residential zones at Utatlan. From this time hearth stones of creation. Specifically, the back of the forward the Tujalja spoke of the Cawek as "our grandTemple of Tojil and the Cawek palace temple aligned to fathers, our fathers, and our chiefs" (Totonicapan Alnilam in the center of Orion, and therefore was the 1953:183). Seemingly, the Sakic provided legitimate vortex of creation, a nagual for the sun. The Temple of pedigree for succession. A transformation from equality Awilix aligned to Betelgeuse in the NW corner of Orion to hierarchy is idyllically remembered. for the moon. And one stairway on the Ajaw palace And in their hearts they were only one, temple sighted Rigel. Since Orion helically set in late They had no witchcraft; autumn as the sun dawned, it too may have signaled the They had no bitterness. harvest. If the Pleiades identified the Sky Serpent's The government was just peaceful. rattlesnake tail (Aveni 1980:34), then the concentric They had no fights, or quarrels. circles of Orion were the serpent coils on the back of the There was just light and tranquility in their hearts. turtle at creation - as the highest constellation in the sky. (Popol Vuh 1971:224) Yet it is possible that some ritual authority rotated among the other lineages as "cargo" rotates among Yet at this juncture, the Ilocab attempted to kill the quadruple barrios today (Tedlock 1982:101; see quadri- interloper, Cotuja, who then demanded their sacrifice partite rule, Carmack 1981:168-79). Just as the early before Tojil (Carmack 1973:292; Popol Vuh 1971:225). Ajaw/Cawek pairing eventually added the Nijaib, so too Henceforth, the Cawek enforced prerogatives with less did a major lineage, the Sakic, transfer to Utatlan from subtlety. Sacapulas (Totonicapan 1953:181-5). In a sense, when Utatlan's power brokers distinguished themselves by

Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya

I Totdnicapan

7 T . Si*°

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^MukdbuiiiB bemepi

CAKCHlOUEL

AKAJAL

Fig. 14.6 Four concentric circles of the Quiche state's maximum expansion to the four cardinal directions, for a total of thirteen divisions. The double-cross with world directions superimposed upon the diagonal crossbar "X" (for solar sunrises and sunsets) is depicted in the Madrid Codex and in the Codex Fejeruary-Mayer (Aveni 1980:Fig.57). The design of triple concentric circles is known from highland Mexico (Aveni 1980:Fig.71). The triangle indicates the ritualistic ties between the rival Quiche, Cakchiquel, and Tzutujil capitals. finely crafted amber nose pieces and gold lip plugs. Since the documents are explicit that jade, metal and feather finery was worked by the Tolteca, from about Tuja (Sacapulas 1968, and Carmack 1973:369-71), it seems reasonable that the Tolteca came with the K'ucumatz and the Sakic entourage. They strengthened the Cawek's alliance-making capabilities, whereby luxury goods were

divvied out to bond obligations upholding the new offices of state. The Tolteca also may have engineered the new buildings in the main plaza. The central plaza terminated the 1 km causeway (plastered sacbe) running E-W from the Pakamam to El Resguardo, also like the bicephalic Sky Serpent.

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Core-periphery relationships among the nine principalities and north-south cardinality

K'ucumatz next married the Tzutujil princess of Malaj (Totonicapan 1953:184-6) and acquired tribute. He became empowered to transform into four successive naguals for conquering other regions during seven days each: into a serpent (N?), an eagle (E?), a jaguar (W?), and blood (S?), comprising one lunation (7 for sun at zenith, 7 x 4 = 28, Carmack and Mondloch 1989:84).

About AD 1200 a series of campaigns were launched beyond Pa'Quiche. Within newly acquired lands, subjugated peoples intermarried with colonists from Utatlan to yield an outlying ring of four new divisions, the original five of the capital plus four more for nine in Then by their magic the [Quiche] lords triumphed ... all. In their own words, secondary chiefs, termed AjTzalam, Raj pop Tzalam and Utam Chinamital, were sent K'ucumatz-Cotuja became a spirit lord (nagual ajaw). For a week he climbed up to heaven. And for a week to "take possession of the mountains and valleys that he made the descent to Xibalba. And for a week he seem good" (Totonicapan 1953:189, 190). More prebecame a serpent ... an eagle ... a jaguar, and a cisely, the "realm was divided into nine territorial divipuddle of blood ... He commanded, all the lords and sions" under K'ucumatz (Carmack and Mondloch tribes. His essence was a spirit lord. And this was the 1989:82). Nine denoted commonly held ancestors and beginning and growth of Quiche when the lord K'ucuhuman gestation. matz did it. (Popol Vuh 1971:233) For the nine divisions, junior lineages in the new towns of Chuvi Mikina, Sija, Xoyabaj, and Sacjabaja Thus, K'ucumatz coalesced disparate peoples with sham(Fig. 14.6), close alliances were maintained with senior anic power to fly to "cosmic layers" as his namesake at lineages in the capital (together an amak). However, the circular temple intersected the cardinal directions at more specific relationships are cloudy. Nonetheless, a the very centerpoint of the state. single cryptic reference indicates that Tecum Uman from Later, paralleling this sequence, the Cakchiquel first Chuvi Mikina (Totonicapan) was commander-in-chief conquered then intermarried with the Tzutujil and of combined Quiche forces (Carmak 1973:302). Curiou- exacted tribute. In allegory (Xajil 1953:75-8), the Caksly, Mikina (Maj Kina) translates as "Sun God." The chiquel war leader, Gacawitz (Venus), also transformed sixteenth-century church of San Cristobal Totonicapan into an omnipotent K'ucumatz - who, as the north wind, faced 2 degrees N to the 290 degrees W-facing cathedral turned Lake Atitlan into a whirlpool - thereby awing the of Santiago Momostenango (which sighted the full Tzutujil into submission. This transformed Gacawitz/ moon, Venus on the autumnal equinox). Patron saints of K'ucumatz paralleled the succession of patron deities, these towns were said to be brothers (G. Cook, pers. Jakawitz (Venus) to K'ucumatz (Sky Serpent) for the comm.), as in the Palenque triad (GUI, GI). Quiche. Political chieftains harnessed divinity with Evidently, state office could be filled from junior line- nagualism. History was ordered calendrically and mythically. To ages. Centripetal power slowly accrued to the colonies. However, accessions ceremonies attended by the nine reach the low-lying warm Tzutujil lands, the Quiche peoples at Utatlan also furnished occasions to over- descended past precipitous cliffs and waterfalls at the throw the Cawek host senior lineages (e.g., Totonicapan Cawek/Tzutujil colony of Tzolola (Xajil 1953:73, 80-1, 1953:179-89). Recinos 1957:147), recalling the plunge along the Blood Clearly, conquests were scheduled according to cardi- River into Xibalba by the Hero Twins. Even today in the nality; first, along the N-S vertical axis, and secondly, early winter night sky Venus first appears directly over along the E-W solar axis. N assumed temporal priority the Tzutujil capital, Chuitinamit-Atitlan. In fact, the over S, and E superseded W. Campaigns spearheaded by Quiche marched to Xibalba along the Milky Way guided the Nijaib and Cakchiquel warriors claimed "100 by the moon (Xbalanque) and the stars (Reifios towns" (Recinos 1957:71-5). So, from inside Utatlan the 1957:35). The Tzutujil radial-temple sighted 117 degrees strength of Nijaib arms compromised Cawek preroga- SE in AD 1000 through the twin peaks of Volcano tives in late aboriginal times, and the Cakchiquel Toliman (7 km) to the helical rise of Venus on the autumnal equinox, and 145 degrees to the neighboring pressured the Cawek from the outside (below). The first peoples beyond the heartland conquered Volcano Atitlan on the inferior conjunction of Venus. were the Tujalja directly N and the Tzutujil directly S Hence, the post-conquest name for Chuitnamit, San(and the Tzutujil capital is sighted on the S cardinal tiago Atitlan, is synonymous with the morning star (GI). point from Patojil). The radial temples at both Tuja and Santiago was the cosmic and geographical opposite pole Chuitinamit-Atitlan align 5 degrees off cardinality. along the N-S axis from Santo Domingo ( = sun, GUI),

Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya Sacapulas. And the N-S Milky Way is called the Road to Santiago (Schele, pers. comm.). Now intermarried with the Tujalja and Tzutujil, the Cawek were challenged in manipulating the vital New Year's ceremony for dominating coalitions of outlying peoples. The Popol Vuh (1971:247) specifically states that the Tujalja and the Tzutujil also provided turquoise, silver, plaster handles, jade, jewels, and dove and quetzal feathers. These new prestige items were redistributed throughout Utatlan's alliances, so that brokers in the contending lineages became obligated to the Cawek (who also distributed obsidian, see Fox, Wallace, and Brown 1992:186-88). During the reign of ruler 7, the Cakchiquel documents narrate that Q'uik'ab's sons conspired with the military faction to plunder the treasury and to seize his lands (Recinos 1957:141-3; Xajil 1953:66-8, 93). Next, the warriors threatened the Cakchiquel, the king's long allies and personal guard. Consequently the mighty Tzutujil rebelled and the Cakchiquel relocated to Iximche, which so preoccupied the Quiche that much of the third ring also revolted. In overview, successes by the rival Tzutujil and Cakchiquel chilled how the outlying peoples perceived the authority of Utatlan. Tribute payments were rebuffed. While the Cakchiquel remarked that they once admired the "judgement and wisdom brought from Tuldn ... the soldiery were ignorant, they were only common people ... [who] coveted power . . . " (Xajil 1953:96-7). Later, when the Tukuche Cakchiquel revolted, they were said no longer to worship the "obsidian (calendar) stone" (Xajil 1953:83), the source of authority traced from the Tuldn to Tuja, Utatlan, and finally Iximche. At Iximche, appropriately for warriors, temples aligned to the Venusian and lunar phases. In Plaza A, Temple 1 oriented 115 degrees towards sunrise on the equinoxes, whereas Temple 2 oriented 260 degrees to the Venusian superior conjunction and to the helical setting of Rigel in Orion. In Plaza C, Temple 2 oriented to the full moon on the equinoxes, all in the mid-1400s. Dialectics among the thirteen peoples and east and west cardinality

After the (N-S) vertix of the Quiche state took form, a second series of colonies were transplanted E and W across the cool uplands for "thirteen" provinces in all. Schematically, this last ring added four more divisions for a total of thirteen. Here the two diagonal ends of the solar "X" crisscrossing the 4th ring (Fig. 14.6) manifest calendric symbolism: at the NE crossbar for summer

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solstice sunrise was the town of Quilaja - which translates as "Place Where the Morning Star and the Sun Blend". Appropriately the Southern Mam translated as "Aged," and occupied the opposite (SW) end for winter solstice sunset. Most of these territories were subjugated or reconquered by Q'uik'ab, which translated as "He of Many Arms," apparently a wordplay on capture/grab for his far-reaching grasp (also attributed to rulers from Yaxchilan, Pohl and Pohl, this volume). By the late 1400s, paradoxically, a ritual binding endured among the balanced Quiche, Tzutujil, and Cakchiquel (Fig. 14.6), as characteristic of segmentary triads. The Cronica Franciscana (in Carmack 1973:3757) relates that they were independent "nations" ruled by "terror," yet recognizing ritual obligations among descendants of the four Tulteca brothers who migrated via Lacandon (near Seibal, Yaxchilan). So, even as bitter foes, the Quiche witnessed kingly successions at Iximche (Las Casas 1958:343) as did the Tzutujil at Utatlan (Recinos 1957:149). Gift exchanges bound the Cawek and the Tzutujil (Fig. 14.6; e.g., Recinos 1957:175), and the Cakchiquel and Tzutujil intermarried (Xajil 1953:86). Chronologically, K'ucumatz perished during an arduous siege of the Mam at Coja (Recinos 1957:141-5) and descended to Xibalba, with Q'uik'ab soon claiming revenge (Totonicapan 1953:187-9). The battles of K'ucumatz and Q'uik'ab at the sunset paralleled the mythic death of Jun Junajpu and eventual victory of his son Junajpu (Cawek) over the Lords of the Underworld (see like-in-kind Quetzalcoatl and his father in Mexico, see Chapter 17). In calendrical prophesy, subjugation of the Mam in the SW completed the cosmic circle; continuing counterclockwise S (Fig. 14.6), the Tzutujil revolted. As at Utatlan, the outer rings were respectively dominated by the two most powerful lineages. The Cawek held sway to the E among the Rabinal, the Agaab, and the Chajoma (Rabinal Achi 1955:33, Recinos 1957:5561, Las Casas 1958:343), corroborated with E-facing temples. In the W, single W-facing temples testify to Nijaib domination (Recinos 1957:75) at Chwa Tz'ak (Momostenango above), Sija, and Zunil (Fox 1978:Figs. 25, 27). While the Mam of Zaculeu were displaced at first by the Cawek (Carmack 1973:297), a W-facing temple oriented 299 degrees to the full moon on the equinoxes supports a dynamic Nijaib presence. Nonetheless, while one lineage predominated, "younger brothers" fissioned from all four major lineages of Utatlan (Totonicapan 1983:198), including members of the Ajaw to Zaculeu (Carmack 1973:197-8). The E-W colonies with closer genealogical ties

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John W. Fox

remained loyal to Utatlan, in contrast to the rebellious N-S colonies. Nonetheless, power shifted subtly to the SW, like the rotation to the W with its Yearbearer Ik. When ruler 13, Tecum Uman, lost to the Spanish on the broad plains of Xelaj, it was on the SW horizon with the sun in its least powerful station (winter solstice). A new "sun" rose with the Spaniards, and the Yearbearer Quej of the E, thereby initiating the dialectic between Indian and Ladino populations that persists today. Conclusions

The Quiche show how principles of political alliance, transferred from a collapsed Classic period Tuldn, were repeatedly transformed according to the processes of factional competition. We see how calendrics were manipulated by fiercely fractious lineages. Ranking was keyed to sightings of the sun and Venus, and the planetary identities were also refracted in constellations like Orion. Yet the most true power brokers maintained building alignments to convergence points of the solar, Venusian, and luner cycles, and to the helical rising/ setting of Orion and the Pleiades. Celestial orientations at successive settlements reveal how ranking changed. At the onset of the Early Postclassic, triadic egalitarian confederates at Jacawitz identified with Venus, though deferred to the triad of Tuja in the cosmic "middle," with symbolism of N and the night and of the equinoxes. Other symbols of alliance were the ancestral Tuldn, a decapitated Junajpu, the "fire," calendric tables, and the sacred bundle. With the Late Postclassic period and the defeat of the Vukamak, the Cawek usurped the right as spokesmen from the Ajaw. In Quiche "astronomical history," the sun outshone Venus at the dawning, and the warriors were upgraded to lords of the sun (state). However, the Ajaw continued to align to the inferior conjunction, when Venus was eclipsed by the sun, paralleling myth when Junajpu journeyed across to the Underworld. Corners of the sacred triangle at Utatlan for the Ajaw, Cawek, and Nijaib linked confederation to the sun's path and to arrangement of stars within Orion. Calendrically and mythically, Cawek control of the key state institutions calibrated the solar equinoxes with the movements of Orion and Pleiades, as manifested at

the Temples of Tojil and of K'ucumatz and at the ballcourt. Soon, the bold Nijaib politically ascended, but whose Temple of Awilix oriented to the sun/moon, Venus and both the Pleiades and Orion on the western horizon. State mythology focused on Junajpu (Cawek) and Xbalanque (Nijaib) and buildings of state oriented S-W. The rolling head of Junajpu bound the lineages in positional astronomy. Following conquests of the Tujalja and the Tzutujil effecting a N-S tree axis, the Quiche expanded to the "nine groups" modeled on the second concentric ring of a circular Orion. At this time, a fourth major lineage on the N wing at Utatlan, the Sakic, effected full quadripartition. Apparently, antagonisms spurred by the newly arrived Tolteca artisans to fashion the sumptuous headdresses and jewelry was recounted in the mythic challenge of the Hero Twins to their artisan older half brothers. At its apex, the Quiche state effected a Tuldn with three outer rings for Orion. In comparison, Tikal also boasted the full thirteen territories (tzuk, Schele pers. comm.). The Cawek held sway within colonies in the E, the Nijaib in the W. As at Utatlan, the lineages of the S and W grew, and eventually challenged Cawek authority. Accordingly, first the Tzutujil initiated a rival state on the S, then the Cakchiquel launched a powerful polity, allegorically at winter solstice sunrise (SE, i.e., calendrically the beginning of the end). Therefore, on the eve of the Spanish conquest, the once mighty Quiche state had unraveled into trinitarian rivals recalling the early equipoised triadic alliances introduced from the lowlands. The shifts in planetary and stellar locations affirm that sites functional as political observatories became outmoded during a few centuries. The growth of the nascent states paralleled the movements of Venus and the sun and rebirth of the celestial bodies to commence calendrical and political cycles anew. Then the Quiche political sun set on the SW horizon and the Spanish sun rose on the SE at Tecpan Guatemala. A cknowledgmen ts Part of this research was funded by the University Research Committee at Baylor University. I also wish to acknowledge the substantial contribution of Dr. Jose Antonio Fernandez Valbuena, especially from long conversations during his years of residence at Baylor, and the interpretations made by Linda Schele.

15 Factions and political development in the central Andes TERENCE N. D'ALTROY

factionalism in empirical studies, numerous theories contain this kind of competition as a key element of political change. Chiefdoms especially appear to have been notable for cycles and expansion and collapse, possibly fostered by competition between sectors of at least fictively related elites (Earle 1978; Wright 1984). The often small-scale, transitory, poorly structured, and circumventing aspects of factions make them difficult to study in prehistory, but this methodological obstacle should be seen as a challenge, not as a reason for ignoring them. Finally, although factionalism is most frequently treated as a destructive force in prehistory (e.g., Millon 1988), it is equally possible to see factions as a force for restructuring sociopolitical relations and for forming robust, more complex polities. The central intent of this paper is to examine how this last process occurred in the fourteenth through sixteenth centuries in the central Andes. The late pre-Inka period, Wanka II (AD 1300-1460), was a time of political development, population growth, and local conflict in the last 160 years before the Inka expansion. During this era, factionalism underlay the emergence of sociopolitical hierarchies, some forms of economic specialization, and a movement toward

Investigators of prehistory generally concur that political competition has often been critical to the development of social complexity. Among the key forms of political contention are hierarchical, peer, polity, expansionist, and factional competition. These are politically joined processes whose significance varies (1) as the complexity and reach of the sociopolitical unit is transformed, (2) as the interaction emphasizes internally or externally directed conflict, and (3) as the competition is Major Mantaro structured vertically (e.g., between classes) or horizon- Estimted ceramic Valley Andean Inka types periods emperors periods tally (e.g., between polities). This paper focuses attention absolute dates Wanka glazed Manco Early on factionalism in the Upper Mantaro Valley, Peru, AD 1571 IV Inka Colonial wares during the late pre-Inka, Inka, and early colonial Inka Atawalpa 1533 periods. These successive periods provide an excellent Wascar opportunity for examining how political activity was Wanka Wanka Reds 1527 III Base Roja Wayna transformed as the context of interaction shifted rapidly Base Clara Qhapac from autonomous, to imperial, to colonial rule Late Horizon 1493 (Fig. 15.1). Thupa Inka Before discussing the case studies, I would like to 1471 Yupanki underscore four main points concerning the role of fac1463 1460 tional competition in political development. First, although they lie outside sanctioned structures of socioWanka Pachacutec Base Roja political interaction, factions pervade political activity II from the simplest to the most complex societies. Second, Base Clara because factionalism often cross-cuts more formal socioWanka Red 1438 ^ate political groups, it provides a means by which indiInter1300 viduals or groups restructure ties to obtain power and Wanka mediate Base Clara resources (Salisbury and Silverman 1977). The groups that are formed are often volatile, ephemeral, and based 1000 on mutual short-term goals, but the outcome of the competition may be a reformation of more formal kinds Fig. 15.1 Chronology of Upper Mantaro Valley of political interaction or, less radically, a shift in leader- occupations; chronology of Inka emperors based on ship. Third, despite the scant archaeological interest in Cabello Valboa (1951 [1586]; see Rowe 1946.203). 171

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75° 00'

11" 30'

12' 00'

12° 00'

10

20 km

30

40

O Acostambo 75° 00'

iR(g. 75.2 The Upper Mantaro region, showing the three sayas of Hatunxauxa, Lurinwanka, and Ananwanka as their territories were constituted under Inka rule. Based on LeVine 1979.

Factionalism'and political development in the central Andes

urbanization. Under Inka rule (1460-1533), the source of political power shifted from autonomous control by community to delegation by an imperial state. The sierra polities were incorporated into a system within which militant factional competition was suppressed or deflected by assertion of state power. Such rivalries contributed significantly to the formation of the Inka state, to the establishment of provincial hierarchies, and to the genesis of the civil war that undermined indigenous resistance to the Spanish invasion. The last phase, from the Spanish conquest to the last decades of the sixteenth century (1533-1600), covers a period in which the collapsed Inka power was only partially supplanted by European rule. After the Inka collapse, factionalism provided a means of reforming power relations within native society and between the colonial rulers and their subjects. Local competition over offices and benefits operative under the Inkas was played out in legal contests in the Spanish Audiencia Real (Royal Court). This paper will review one such court case over indigenous succession to office to see how the interplay among the royal authorities, native paramount elites, and lower elites addressed the competing interests of local factions. Wanka II: indigenous sociopolitical development

The area of principal interest for this paper is the Upper Mantaro Valley, in the central Peruvian sierra (Fig. 15.2). In the last few centuries before the Spanish conquest, two major groups, the Xauxa and Wanka, inhabited the region; together they boasted about 200,000 people. The Wanka included upper (Ananwanka) and lower (Lurinwanka) divisions, but neither division nor the Xauxa was unified before the Inkas. Local population shifts and concomitant political realignment provided key mechanisms for the creation of several chiefdoms that futilely contested the Inka advance. Although these shifts resulted primarily from conflict, much of the hostile interaction was not factional, in that it occurred between independent polities or ethnic groups. The Yauyos, for example, who inhabited the highlands west of the Upper Mantaro, reported in 1586 that their ancestors had fought the Wankas in the pre-Inka era (Davila Brizeno 1965:153). In 1570, Toledan witnesses reported that exploitation of the Wanka populace by their own war leaders reallocated resources in the elites' favor (e.g., Toledo 1940:18, 24, 28, 31). The evidence nonetheless indicates that factionalism was central to political interaction, as sociopolitical units formed, broke up, and reaffiliated themselves in the last couple of centuries before the Inka conquest.

173

Wanka II social organization Considerable differences of opinion exist on many aspects of Andean social systems, but some basic features can be outlined (Zuidema 1964, 1977; Rostworowski 1988). A central point is that the sierra kin systems were inclusive, not exclusive. Spanish documents consistently recorded membership of individuals by lineage, but the evidence suggests that this was a misapplication of a European sense of kin relationships, since lineages in the anthropological sense were likely not present in the sierra (Zuidema 1977). Kin terms were ego-oriented and male relatives in the same generation as distant as FaFaFaBrSoSoSo were termed brother in the Upper Mantaro (Espinoza 1969). Descent appears to have been reckoned bilineally (cf. Rowe 1946:254). Espinoza (1969:19) suggests that the Wanka use of patrilateral surnames by male offspring, but not by female descendants, indicates the presence of bilineal descent. Although the evidence he cites comes from the late sixteenth century, when Spanish rules for descent and inheritance played an important role, Espinoza's point is well taken. Property, including rights to agricultural and grazing lands, was inherited through both male and female lines. Rights to political power, however, apparently passed preferentially through the male line, sometimes directly from father to son and sometimes through all brothers in a generation before reverting to the first son of the first male in that generation (Rostworowski 1961; Espinoza 1969). The former pattern dominated on the north and central coasts, while the latter may have dominated in the central highlands. Rostworowski (1988:140-2) identifies a third form of political inheritance among the Inkas, in which the son of the paramount elite's sister (SiSo) gained the office. Because the term sister was extended widely within a kin group in a particular generation, and because the Sapa Inka (emperor) himself, from Thupa Yupanki on, married his "sister," the effect may have been the same as the first option mentioned above. A more important point is that inheritance of political power among the Inkas may have been divorced from inheritance of the material resources of the deceased emperor. The significance of this issue will be raised below, in a discussion of Inka factionalism. The principal corporate group was the ayllu, an entity with kinship, political, and territorial foundations (see Zuidema 1964:26-7, 1977:280). Access to resources, such as agricultural lands and pastures, was allocated to households through usufruct (Rowe 1946:254). As was the case with sociopolitical units from kin groups up to entire ethnic groups, the ayllu was often divided into

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upper and lower moieties, across which many ritualized competitions were played out. In the Inka case, the competition for power between Upper (Anan) and Lower (Hurin) Cuzco was quite real (Rostworowski 1988:35-41), and comparable competition occurred among north coast political units (Netherly 1978). Many groups were also divided into three units, called Callao, Payan, and Collana (Zuidema 1964; Wachtel 1973; Rostworowski 1988). It would be convenient to argue that these units provided an enduring, basic structure for factional alignment, but there is little concrete evidence to this effect at present. It appears, however, that ayllu were internally restructured and externally religned within larger polities during the last centuries before Spanish contact. The documentary evidence on indigenous politics in the central Andes, while scant and often partisan, suggests that elites jockeyed for positions of power within and among corporate groups during all three periods of present interest.

ideal of self-sufficient communities within which access to resources was allocated on the basis of need. This information on promotion of conflict for access to resources has some interesting archaeological correlates. Hastorf and Earle (1985) have shown that, viewed regionally, productive lands in the Upper Mantaro region, especially in the lower valley, were underexploited during the Late Intermediate period. At the same time, high, rolling uplands only 10 km away were intensified through construction of irrigation systems associated with large, nucleated settlements. The pattern of localized use of land resources is supported by the consistent recovery of high-elevation food crops in residential compounds and the relative lack of maizecomplex crops (Earle et al. 1987:82-4). Hastorf and Earle conclude that the intensification of production during Wanka II resulted from demand set by the political economy and not from the requirements of feeding the growing regional population.

Factional competition in oral history

Ceremonial hospitality and redistribution

The best documentation on pre-Inka conflict in the Upper Mantaro appears in the 1570 visita of Viceroy Toledo (1940), who questionedfiveLurinwanka and one resettled (mitmaq) Llaguas elite in the town of Conception.1 Some queries treated the nature of sociopolitical, military, and economic affairs prior to Inka rule. The nature, scope, causes, and resolution of conflicts point to a process in which factional competition contributed to consolidating power under a few individuals and kin groups (see LeBlanc 1981; Hastorf 1983; D'Altroy 1987). The oral histories recounted that the military commanders of essentially self-sufficient communities took on increasingly permanent roles as political elites. These leaders, termed cinchecona (singular, cinche), existed throughout the Andean sierra at this time (e.g. Sarmiento 1960; Cieza 1967, 1984). The idealized view of accession to political power was that leaders were selected by community consensus and that the position of leader became dormant during peacetime (e.g., Toledo 1940:18, 22-3, 27, 30, 33-4). This ideal was transgressed in practice, as the witnesses observed that cinchecona promoted warfare for their own and their immediate subordinates' benefit. Moreover, they retained power between hostilities and passed it preferentially to male offspring, thus taking the crucial step from a position of ephemeral power to one of greater permanence. The ostensible causes of conflict were pressure on community resources, especially lands, herds, and women (Toledo 1940:19, 24, 28, 31, 35). It is intriguing that the private gain of these leaders gives lie to the oft-cited Andean

In this climate, political restructuring most likely entailed a mix of inducement and coercion. The key issue in inducement lay in attracting enough labor for production and military protection. The evidence for ceremonial hospitality throughout the Andes in late prehistory suggests that redistributional relations mediated groups reaffiliations. With my apologies for retracing some welltrodden paths, it will be worthwhile recapitulating four views of redistribution found in the literature. A resilient position holds that many elaborate ceremonial-redistributional complexes were most clearly concerned with attainment of prestige and structuring social relations. Redistribution thus served little or no purpose with respect to subsistence or utilitarian economics. The Melanesian big-man feasts and American Northwest coast potlatches, in which the host apparently impoverished himself, are cited as ceremonies in which the goal was to attain prestige at great cost of material goods, labor, and political favors (e.g., Codere 1950). This view contrasts with one that treats redistribution as a means of reallocating goods among economically specialized units, within a centrally run polity (e.g., Polanyi 1956; Murra 1980). In the evolutionary version of this argument, a chief emerges to mediate the exchange of these specialized products (Service 1975). A third position holds that redistribution served a variety of ends, depending on the complexity of the society (Earle 1977, 1978). In material terms, these ranged from reallocating pooled resources within domestic or cooperative groups to maintaining elite institutions through

Factionalism and political development in the central Andes

mobilization of goods and services. Political goals entailed cementing political relations, predominantly between elites and their subordinates. A fourth view focuses on politics, labor, and demographic reafiliation. Price (1984:223) observes that, in developing ranked societies, a chief's position depends upon his ability to control labor and its output without controlling the resources from which output is derived. Where land is not at a premium and labor is the key to power, the political economy is structured around maintaining elites and retainers, and attracting new constituents. Redistribution in this context serves as a political activity, most significantly to move population, not goods. Ample ethnographic precedent exists to consider population shifts and reaffiliations to be critical in some redistributional systems. Without drawing the parallels too exactingly, I would like to use the Northwest Coast societies as a model for the changes that occurred in the Andean sierra in the late Late Intermediate Period. Donald and Mitchell tie group social ranking within the Southern Kwakiutl potlatch to population distribution, the predictability and distribution of anadromous fish resources, and warfare. They show that Boas' and Ford's lists of group social ranks in 1830 and 1880 at specific potlatches were highly correlated both with the ranks of the group population and the size of the annual median fish runs within group territory (Donald and Mitchell 1975:334). Group population itself was best explained by the size and relative variation of the fish run. These authors argue that inter-village warfare discouraged village fissioning, because larger villages had a decided advantage in gaining access to productive territories. In essence, social rank was derived from the group's ability to marshal labor for military, ceremonial, and political activities. The demands for military preparedness would thus have made population aggregation and alliance formation advantageous. The potlatch provided a mechanism for tying together political and demographic restructuring. Adams' (1973) ethnographic work on the Gitksan potlatch shows that the ceremony acted more directly to redistribute population to resources than to move goods to needy people. He found that populations tended to move from larger to smaller houses within the same crest, to maintain the latter's viability and capacity to potlatch. It is not difficult to envision a shift in the opposite direction. Cases of reassignment of individual and group reaffiliations, mediated through ritual feasting, are readily available in the anthropological literature (see Adams 1973:106-9; Price 1984 for additional cases). The extension of ties along varying lines is an honored

175

principle among societies in which reduction of risk or amassing of power is a critical issue. In essence, the ceremonial hospitality announces group labor capacities and allows groups to assess the advantages of reaffiliation (Rappaport 1971b). Given the advantages in mobilizing labor for production and conflict, the relationship among demographic and political reorganization and ceremonialism is largely explicable in terms of factional competition. From the chief's perspective, ceremonial redistribution was key in keeping low the costs of competing for labor (Price 1984:227). It was cheaper to attract people through distribution than to compel their participation. For the mobile populace, reaffiliation promised to reduce risk and increase status. Archaeological correlates of factional competition

This model integrates elements of factionalism seemingly present in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries in the Andean sierra. Its components are (1) the presence of multiple, comparable sociopolitical entities, (2) population movement, (3) localized conflict, (4) ceremonialism and symbolic representation, and (5) development of new statuses. Archaeological expectations of the model include the following. With respect to settlement organization, evidence of both fissioning and aggregation may be expected. Depending on the degree to which the factionalism created larger polities, settlement hierarchies should have developed, focused around incipient centers of political control. Similarly, the population should have become increasingly concentrated into defensive settlements to protect against predatory competitors. Material evidence for feasting in association with public areas may also be expected, along with a proliferation in the manufacture and use of status objects (see Peebles and Kus 1977). The settlement data show that the Upper Mantaro region changed dramatically from Wanka I (AD 10001350) to Wanka II (135O-1460).2 The first period was characterized by small (3.4 ha) settlements that were internally undifferentiated. Site-size hierarchies and civic-ceremonial architecture were both absent, although defensive positioning and architecture at a few sites indicate that warfare had probably become important. In Wanka II, site-size hierarchies and corporate architecture indicative of regional differentiation in political power were significant new features. The estimated population in the study region increased about 9.3 times and the populations at the largest communities increased from about 1700 to about 11-13,000. The population shifted location to defensible, hilltop positions as the number of settlements was cut almost in half.

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Fig. 15.3 Site plan of Tunanmarca (J7), Wanka II center; the numbered compounds were excavated. The largest Wanka II settlements contain well-defined spatial divisions. Most obvious are the two residential sectors found at the centers of Hatunmarca (J2) and Tunanmarca (J7), and at smaller towns (e.g., J109). These settlements also contained sectors separated by walls that sometimes traversed the residential zones. While systematic study of the internal divisions has not been undertaken, some sectors contained several hundred structures, enough to house over a thousand individuals. The present data are not adequate to argue for self-sufficiency or specialization of these sectors, but it seems likely that these divisions were residential neighborhoods set apart from adjoining areas. The chronicler Cieza (1984: chapter lxxxiii, 243) described these abandoned, hilltop, pre-Inka settlements as divided into barrios. It is tempting to suggest that these sectors coincided neatly with social groupings, such as the ayllu or multi-ayllu alliances. Evidence from Inkaic Cuzco and from modern, traditional, sierra settlements indicates that upper and lower ayllu divisions could be separated spatially within communities (e.g., Rowe 1967; Isbell 1978), but ayllu members were sometimes resident in several physical settlements (Murra 1972). We cannot therefore assume a direct correlation between entire ayllu and residential sectors. Moreover, litigation from the early colonial period indicates that at least some settlements contained a number of ayllu in late prehistory (see Espinoza 1969). This situation did not necessarily predate the Inka conquest, given that the settlement pattern shifted under imperial rule, but such an organization would be a likely consequence of factional competition and alliance in large communities.

The presence of elite architectural sectors in Tunanmarca (Fig. 15.3), the largest Wanka II center, further suggests that several groups, of approximately comparable status, were present. Residential compounds with multiple structures, elegant masonry, and large plazas were built in at least three distinct locations, one of them a considerable distance from the central public area. It is intriguing, however, that the room sizes at Tunanmarca did not vary systematically between elite and commoner statuses or across the site (DeMarrais 1989). This indicates that there was little or no (global) spatial patterning in structure size at this center, although the half dozen largest buildings were grouped together. Status and ceremonial activity The model outlined above presumes that public ceremonial activity and symbolic representations of rank will take on great significance during factional competition. Solid evidence for such ceremonial hospitality can be found in two contexts: the central plaza areas and elite residential compounds. At Tunanmarca, an extensive midden area lies adjacent to the central plaza. A test trench (1.0 x 3.0 x 0.8 m) yielded in excess of 600 large sherd fragments, virtually all from moderately sized jars, in a matrix of fine ash. The ceramics show some evidence of use and little evidence of the misfiring expected from wasters. The best interpretation of the deposit is that it represents the discarded remains of feasting conducted in the plaza or adjacent, unusually large buildings (cf. Costin 1986). The concentration of certain ceramic forms, fauna, and labor-intensive goods (e.g., exotics and metals) in

Factionalism and political development in the central Andes

Wanka III Copper Ubiquity

Wanka II Copper Ubiquity

(% of exc. units with copper)

(% of exc. units with copper) 15

I commoner

elite

mean • 0.11 n * 12

§ 10

a o o

5 CD

5

10

, 20 Ubiquity (%)

10

20 Ubiquity (%)

Fig. 15.4 Ubiquity of copper in Wanka II and HI residential compounds. the dispersed elite compounds further supports the contained greater quantities of bones (elite: notion of decentralized ceremonial activity and power in X = 107.2 m3; commoner: X = 43.1 m3). Moreover, the Wanka II. Costin (pp. 294—9) shows that elite com- elites selected the meaty parts of the animals and butcherpounds contain a high proportion of high-necked jars ing took place in the elite compounds (Sandefur (elite: X = 0.864 kg/m3; commoner: X = 0.164 kg/m3) 1988:199, 216). As Sandefur argues, these kinds of and deep basins (elite: X = 0.530 kg/m3; commoner: evidence are expected from the preparation and hosting X = 0.110 kg/m3). She argues that this was a con- of large feasts. sequence of preparing, storing, and serving large quantiProduction and consumption of status goods is a ties of food and maize beer for group feasts. complicated issue that can only be outlined here. The Sandefur's (1988) faunal analysis shows that meat, excavated evidence indicates that, in Wanka II, metal which was mostly camelid, was prepared by boiling or and shell objects were largely produced and consumed roasting. The latter required far more labor, because within elite compounds (Earle et al. 1987; Owen in firewood and other combustibles are scarce at high press). Metal objects were consistently decorative or elevations. Burned bone, likely indicative of roasting, symbolic and appear to have had little value as tools - in was almost four times as dense in elite (X = 44.18 kg/m3) contrast to the common copper tools of Inka times. The residential compounds as in commoner (X = Wanka II metals included tupus, ornaments, and disks, 11.72 kg/m3; Sandefur 1988:182). Although the the last mostly in silver. Figs. 15.4—15.7 show the distridensity of camelid meat itself (estimated on the basis of bution of silver and copper among residential comrecovered bone) did not vary notably between the two pounds for Wanka II and III. Both ubiquity (percent classes, the elite compounds were larger and therefore presence in excavation units of a given compound) and

177

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Density of Wanka II Copper

I commoner

Density of Wanka III Copper

P^MI elite

commoner

mean * 2.8 gm/cu m n = 17

; elite

mean • 5.2 gm/cu m n = 12

i

10

gm/ cu m

20

30

gm/ cu m

30

Fig. 15.5 Density of copper in Wanka II and HI residential compounds. density (gm/m3) measures show that metals were concentrated in elite compounds in Wanka II, which would be expected where labor-intensive goods marked status. In partial contrast, however, are the data from the burial population, which show a positive correlation between the age of the individual and the quantity of associated burial goods (Owen and Norconk 1987). This suggests that personal achievement remained significant in status assignment and that hierarchies among kin groups were not yet well established. Summary of Wanka II To summarize, the Wanka II phase saw the emergence of chiefdom society. Factionalism and personal recruitment to charismatic leaders were significant in regional conflict, along with peer polity competition. The settlement pattern indicates that political hierarchies were likely present and that warfare was a major concern. The architecture suggests that status differences were marked by elaboration of simple buildings - not by erection of

monumental structures - and that the societies' elites had not gravitated to common living areas within settlements. Household-based and centralized ceremonialism imply that power was still dispersed within communities, and that the latter provided a mechanism to induce demographic shifts and political reaffiliation. Factional competition under the Inkas

The Inkas began their expansion into the largest empire in the indigenous New World in the early fifteenth century. In about fifty years, they conquered the territory from modern Ecuador to central Chile and northwest Argentina, incorporating twelve million or more people within the imperial boundaries. The Upper Mantaro region was taken about 1460 by Thupa Inka Yupanki and the Inkas set about constructing a physical infrastructure of administrative settlements and logistical facilities (Fig. 15.8). In this region, as in other cases, the Inkas relied heavily on local elites for state admin-

Factionalism and political development in the central Andes

179

Wanka III Silver Ubiquity

Wanka II Silver Ubiquity

(% of exc. units with silver)

(% of exc. units with silver) 15

15 loner

M

ioner

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mean - 0.02 n • 12

mean s 0.03 n - 17 0)

"D

5

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a

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i

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Ubiquity (%)

20

Fig. 15.6 Ubiquity of silver in Wanka II and HI residential compounds. istration at the same time that resistant communities were deported en masse. A fundamental question concerns how the imperial conquest transformed factional interaction. Murra (1980:32) has observed that imperial control did not end local conflicts, but channeled their resolution to the state. In addressing disputes, however, the Inkas had to balance two conflicting goals. First, they had an interest in keeping local hostilities dampened, to reduce the problems of governance. Internecine conflict had the potential for disrupting attainment of state goals, especially if active conflicts had to be subdued militarily. Even adjudicated disputes could be costly in administrative resources. Conversely, it was to the state's advantage to permit or even promote some local rivalry, because it inhibited alliances threatening to state control. When local factionalism could be directed to competition for state favor, this served state interests. The existence of long-term regional conflicts was therefore to the state's benefit and detriment.

Inka factional competition The Inkas themselves were intimately familiar with factionalism, since power struggles in the royal kin groups of Cuzco provided the means of selecting each imperial successor. Inka king lists, recounted in about a score of Spanish chronicles, somewhat misleadingly record only three emperors from the ascension of the first expansionist emperor, Pachacutec, c. 1438, to the civil war that immediately preceded the Spanish invasion of 1532. If we are to believe the codified royal history reported to the Spaniards, each succession was contested and lethal infighting among Cuzco nobility and royalty posed a major threat to the stability of both the pre-imperial polity and the empire (see Rowe 1946; Rostworowski 1960, 1988:50-61, 137-8). In the semi-mythical Inka histories, the impetus for Inka expansion lay in a victory over their neighboring enemies, the Chancas. This was led by Cusi Yupanki (later Pachacutec Inka Yupanki), son of the paramount Inka, Viracocha, who had fled Cuzco in the face of the

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Density of Wanka III Silver

Density of Wanka II Silver

commoner

i elite

commoner

mean

mean * 0.12 gm/cu m n = 17

10

12

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0.1 gm/cu m

a

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6 8 0.1 gm/cu m

Fig. 15.7 Density of silver in Wanka II and III residential compounds. Chanca attack. Pachacutec's victory and subsequent triumphal return to Cuzco underwrote his cooption of leadership. To secure this position, Pachacutec displaced his father, killing his brother, Urco, the heir apparent. Pachacutec's son Thupa Inka Yupanki showed himself more able than the heir designate, Amaru Yupanki, and succeeded to power. Even in office, the emperor was not immune from palace intrigue. Sarmiento (1960:chapter 51), for instance, reported a coup attempt against Thupa Yupanki by his brother Thupa Qhapac, while the former was in Ecuador; Thupa Yupanki may ultimately have been assassinated. He was succeeded by Wayna Qhapac, one of several aspirants to the throne, who consolidated his power by killing two of his brothers (Guaman Poma 1980:/l 13 [113]: p. 93). Effects on the Xauxas and Wankas Given the internal competition among the Inkas, it is not surprising that the death of Wayna Qhapac c. 1527 precipitated a civil war between two of his sons,

Atawalpa and Wascar. The Upper Mantaro inhabitants sided with Wascar, sending thousands of troops into a series of losing battles. They also contributed the hapless principal commander for the defense, Guanca Auqui, son of Wayna Qhapac and a Xauxa woman (Guaman Poma 1980:/114[114]: p. 93). As Espinoza (1971, 1973a), principal modern chronicler of the Wankas, has described, the Wanka defeat caused them to view the Spaniards as saviors. They therefore tossed in their lot with the invaders, while the Ecuadorian Inka army was resident at Hatun Xauxa, the provincial center. In this way, factional competition among the Inka royal kin had a very direct, devastating effect on the fortunes of the residents of the Upper Mantaro and contributed to the demise of the empire. For the provincial populace, factionalism under imperial rule was less well-documented than for the Inkas and is more difficult to assess archaeologically than for the Wanka II phase. It is clear, however, that the imposition of the Inka state had an impact on the

Factionalism and political development in the central Andes

#

181

Inka site

O Inka storage site #

Wanka site

~—- Survey boundary §§& Modern town Elevation in meters o

5 km 75°20'

Fig. 15.8 Late Horizon (Inka and Wanka HI) settlement pattern in the northern Upper Mantaro Valley. nature of regional conflicts, the sociopolitical groups involved, and the means of their resolution. The establishment of Inka control very likely froze some disputes in progress that were not readily resolved under the new regime. Similarly, the creation of new sociopolitical and territorial divisions within the region provided a new source of factional conflict. A particular source of contention lay in the location of boundaries among three

new provincial subdivisions called saya, over each of which the Inkas placed local, elite kin groups. These divisions included Hatunxauxa (Surichaque or Cusichaca kin), Lurinwanka (Guacrapaucar kin), and Ananwanka (Apoalaya kin). As late as the rule of Wayna Qhapac (1493-1527), border disputes flared up among the three paramount lords. Cieza (1967: chapter lxiv: p. 215) reported that the emperor assembled the lords to

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resolve the disputes as he passed through on his way to military campaigns in Ecuador. The shift of settlements downslope under Inka rule also assuredly created rifts that had to be adjudicated, but I am unfortunately unaware of any documentation on this issue. Some correlates of factional competition may be recognized in the archaeological record, but it would be pushing the data to say that the available evidence is clearly indicative of this kind of strife. One line of evidence cited for the Wanka II period was the concentration of population in defensive hilltop settlements. Under the Inkas, this shift was reversed and many people moved back to the valley flanks. This shift is best interpreted as a consequence of Inka efforts to reduce the military capabilities of subject groups, Wanka and Xauxa interests in cultivating maize lands and living near the Inka center of activity, and dispersal of the population to reduce agricultural costs. Among the major Wanka III settlements, only Hatunmarca is well enough preserved to indicate that two separate residential sectors were occupied under Inka rule. The new major town in the area, Marca, has been disturbed by agriculture and the interior organization obliterated. Excavations in the central areas of each residential sector at Hatunmarca show that each was occupied by elite families, as were the central areas of the Wanka II Tunanmarca. As noted for Wanka II, it is tempting to suggest that these residential sectors pertained to upper and lower moiety divisions and that these constituted groups competing for power within the community. There is as yet, however, no clear evidence to this effect. Once imperial rule was established, redistribution and ceremonial hospitality no longer served principally to realign population for local competition. Some Inka policies were in fact intended to reduce the alliance formation that characterized the Late Intermediate period. Among these were the resettlement program, installation of internal garrisons, requirements for maintaining ethnic differences in speech and dress, and replacement of insubordinate elites with individuals loyal to the state. At the same time, the rulers made considerable efforts to inculcate provincial groups in Inka culture (Rowe 1982). At the upper levels of provincial politics, ceremonialism became a hierarchical, statedominated activity and local elites were muzzled in their capacity to act out factional competition through feasting. The Upper Mantaro was favored politically and personally by Thupa Yupanki and Wascar. Some chroniclers recorded that local elites provided services and

receptions for the emperor that he then rewarded (Sarmiento 1960: chapter 52: 257; Guaman Poma 1980:/ 116[116]:94; Cieza 1967: chapter lxiv: 215). The documents emphasize the role of exchange in integrating hierarchical levels in the sociopolitical organization. Later analyses often treat this redistribution as the empire's and kurakas1 means of meeting their material and symbolic obligations to their constituent populations (e.g., Wachtel 1977). Although this responsibility was undoubtedly fulfilled by hosting public festivities, the movement of goods and services between elites and commoners served principally as a means of underwriting the elite populace and their retainers (Earle and D'Altroy 1982). The effective role of redistribution therefore shifted from attracting followers to sustaining political hierarchies, often with the state seal of approval. In a preceding section, ceramic and faunal remains were used to show a concentration of feasting in elite households in Wanka II. This evidence shows modified activities under Inka rule. The fauna indicate that some differences between elites and commoners were reduced, in part because of increases in camelid meat processing and consumption by commoners. For instance, commoner households (X = 146.8 kg/m3) actually yielded higher concentrations of camelid meat than did the elites (X = 129.6 kg/m3; Sandefur 1988:171). The status differences in concentration of meaty parts essentially disappeared, and the relative amount of burned bone was reduced from 3.8:1.0 to 1.7:1.0 (p. 182). With respect to pottery, Costin has shown that laborintensive Inka ceramics supplanted vessels of local manufacture in elite and public contexts in Wanka III settlements. This was especially visible with the introduction of Inka flared-rim jars and the virtual elimination of traditional deep basins and high-necked jars, important in Wanka II hospitality. The density of basin rims decreased 87.2 percent (to X = 0.068 kg/m!) and high-necked jars 78.1 percent (to X = 0.189 kg/m1) in elite compounds from Wanka II to III. The distribution of state ceramics at the Inka provincial center of Hatun Xuaxa (J5) and the Xauxa towns of Hatunmarca (J2) and Marca (J54) provides insight into sociopolitical divisions and access to sumptuary goods (D'Altroy and Bishop 1990). Compositional analysis (INAA) of the Inka ceramics at these settlements suggests that they were manufactured from two sets of source materials, both state controlled. Most of the ceramics from Hatun Xuaxa and Marca came from mutually indistinguishable source materials, while those at Hatunmarca came from another source.

Factionalism and political development in the central Andes

Inka Ceramic Compositional Group (posterior reclassification) 14 5

21

6 24

J54

J16 J5

100

80

60-

J2 J4

J45

Site number IH

J2 group

J5 group

J54 group

Other

Fig. 15.9 Percentages of chemically characterized Inka ceramics belonging to compositional groups, by site: the x-axis is a one-dimensional scaling solution to the geographic distances among sites J2, J4, J5, J16-17, J45,andJ54. Fig. 15.9 shows the distribution of the Inka ceramics from these sites and three others taken to be closely affiliated with the state, on the basis of location, ceramic assemblage, and architecture: J4 (residential/ceremonial), J16-17 (storage), and J45 (waystation). In this graph, the X-axis represents a one-dimensional scaling solution for the spatial proximity of these sites to one another. If the residents of adjacent sites had been obtaining their ceramics from the same sources, one would expect similar proportions of sources among adjacent bars in the graph. It is clear, however, that this is not the case. Sites J45 and J4, for instance, lay closer to Hatunmarca than to either Marca or Hatunxauxa (see Fig. 15.8), but got their ceramics primarily from the Marca source group. A sociopolitical explanation for this pattern is supported particularly because the distri-

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bution of state ceramics does not follow a distance-decay model focused around potential sources of production. One possibility is that the elites resident at Marca were outcompeting those at Hatunmarca for Inka favor and were granted a position of higher status. Distribution of these items of state affiliation and prestige may have occurred along a dendritic structure in which preferred access resulted from political ties. The production and distribution of metals also shows a truncation of the abilities of Upper Mantaro residents to compete politically under the Inkas. From Wanka II to III, the use of copper increased markedly, but silver was less common (see Figs. 15.4-15.7). Because of the status-related use of the silver in Wanka II, we infer that the Inka state tapped off the raw materials used to make local status markets. Instead, the use of metals shifted primarily to copper tools, although some copper disks were made in imitation of the Wanka II silver disks (Owen in press). Summary of Wanka III The imposition of Inka rule transformed factionalism in the Upper Mantaro, as warfare and political reaffiliation, mediated by ceremonial activity, were precluded. Political infighting continued, however, as new sociopolitical divisions and positions of status were created. The best strategy in this competition shifted from recruiting a supporting populace to currying state favor. The factionalism that characterized imperial succession resulted in a civil war in the late 1520s, with a devastating effect on the regional groups, who sided with the losing cause. This precipitated their alliance with the invading Spaniards, thus contributing to the Inka collapse. Factional competition in the early colonial period In the volatile sixteenth century, Spanish rule changed the juridical setting from an Andean context to European-model courts, and therefore transformed the means of resolving factional disputes. Nonetheless, many conflicts arose from Andean concepts of rights and obligations and often occurred between native elites or groups. Here, the two sides of politics - cooperation and competition - are clearly defined. In their disputes, native leaders selectively emphasized political affiliations defined by kin ties, native/colonial alliances, and class standing. The ethnohistorical literature has taken particular advantage of the blizzard of paperwork produced in claims concerning rights to land and labor, tax obligations, political succession, and the rights of displaced

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Apo Misari

(I) 1

Guaman Misari

(2)

Cargua Misari

Mango Misari

(4)

Jullca Misari

Parian

(no heir)

Gonzalo Catan Yarco (5)2

Juan Julca Misari (6)2

(no heir)

Gonzalo Paitan Misari

Juan Mango Misari I

Juan Guaman Misari

(7)3

(8)

(3)2

I

Cristobal 4 Cargua (9) Alaya I

Cristobal Cargua (10) Alaya II

1

order of succession to office of ayllu lord. regent only Juan Mango Misari was underage at the time of his father's death (Mango Misari) and Jullca Misari and Parian Misari had died previously. At the time of Gonzalo Catan Yarco's death, Juan Mango Misari was still underage, and the office went to Juan Julca Misari. Juan Mango Misari assumed office while Juan Julca Misari was still alive. 4 Cristobal Cargua Alaya succeeded to office by appointment of the saya paramount lord, Francisco Apo Cusichaca, and was confirmed in office by the Spanish authorities, shifting the cacicazgo from the Misari family to the Alaya family. Source: Espinoza 1969:48 Insert; (1571):doc. 1:55-56; (1597):doc. 3:63-64. 2

3

Fig. 15.10 Simplified succession of lords of the ayllu Lurinhuailas. groups installed to produce for the Inkas. The key issues for this paper are the infighting among native elites seeking power in the new regime, cooperation of native and European authorities against comparable factions, and indigenous collaboration against the Spaniards. The participation of native societies in the Spanish courts had a number of consequences. Stern (1982a, 1982b:292) observes that, although lawsuits occasionally furthered the short-term goals of indigenous litigants, the process bound them to the European system of rule and to alliances with Spanish authorities. Access to courts also shifted the balance of power among factions, because population size and the consequent capacity to

engage in war no longer carried the same weight in resolving disputes. Greater access to resources and labor gave well-placed kurakas an advantage in bribing officials, and wealth often gave legitimacy, but conflicts could seldom be settled by brute force alone, an effective expedient less than a century earlier. Moreover, access to the courts provided a new conceptual foundation for indigenous litigants, as Spanish notions of social relations and legalities opened the door for claims that might have been specious on the basis of native tradition alone. Several disputes that arose in the Upper Mantaro region were pursued through the Spanish courts. One of the most intriguing, traced by Espinoza (1969), con-

Factionalism and political development in the central Andes

185

cerned a long conflict among three lines from two kin Before considering the implications of the lawsuits for groups, each trying to secure rights to the cacicazgo of factionalism, the collaboration of native elites both in the ayllu Lurinhuailas, in the village of Huacjrasmarca support of and against these same Spanish authorities and say a of Hatunxauxa. The cacicazgo was a valuable may be addressed briefly. From 1533 until 1554, the office, even under Spanish rule, because it could include Xauxas and Wankas provided the conquistadores with a fixed income, provide labor for the household, fields, vast amounts of supplies, soldiers, and bearers in their and flocks, relieve the family of some tax burdens, and efforts to attain control of the Inka domain (Espinoza provide status in native and colonial eyes. 1971), costing the native populace up to a third of its This case can be summarized briefly (Fig. 15.10), but membership (Murra 1975:243-54). The early supplies Espinoza's exposition is recommended for a detailed were provided in proportion to the populations of the treatment. About 1460, the kuraka Apo Misari was say as, according to the last Inka census of the mid-1530s. recognized as lord of the ayllu Lurinhuailas by Thupa This balance exhibits both coordination at the highest Inka Yupanki, who had conquered the region. During level of indigenous authority and an ethic in which Inka and early colonial rule, a lineal series of eldest certain obligations were proportional to the tax-paying surviving sons assumed the position of kuraka, with population, even after the Inka demise. Collaboration close male relatives serving as regent at times that heirs among the saya paramounts is underscored by the interapparent were underage. One regent, Juan Julca Misari, marriage of all three families by the end of the sixteenth who assumed office in 1549, was recognized as the century (Espinoza 1971). kuraka by the inspector Damian de la Bandera, either In 1558-61, the most elite lords of the valley petitioned mistakenly or through native collusion (Espinoza the Audiencia Real in Lima for restitution for goods and 1969:doc. 2:57). In an effort to ensure that his own services (Alaya 1971; Guacrapaucar 1971a, 1971b, 1971c; underage son be recognized as ayllu lord, Juan Julca Cusichaca et al. 1971). Rather than accede, the Spaniards Misari unsuccessfully attempted to get a lord from the demanded such onerous labor that a kuraka from Jauja ayllu of Sacras, don Cristobal [Cargua] Alaya, appointed was jailed in Lima for failing to provide adequate labor in regent (Espinoza 1969: doc. 2:57). Upon Juan Julca Lima, ten days' unpaid walk away (Vega 1896:119-21). Misari's death about 1570, the cacicazgo reverted to the In 1565, feeling ill used, the paramounts amassed arms original lineal successor, Juan Manco Misari (I), who and food for the abortive Taki Onqoy millennarian rebeldied in 1585. His investiture was challenged unsuccess- lion (Wachtel 1973:113-15; Stern 1982a:51-71). fully on behalf of Juan Julca Misari's underage son, Although open revolt never occurred, the secretly implying that the dispute lay not between individuals, planned action underscores the re-emphasis of political but between kin-based factions (Espinoza 1969:28). The allegiance under changing circumstances.4 Spanish inspector da Silva ruled in favor of Juan Manco Three aspects of change in dispute resolution can be Misari (I), because witnesses identified Juan Julca Misari elicited from these cases. The first concerns the kurakas' as an interim gobernador, not as a legitimately entitled use of multiple sources of legitimacy for their claims: kuraka. indigenous rights of inheritance corroborated by Inka When Juan Manco Misari (I) died, his underage son appointment, Spanish recognition in an inspection, and Juan Manco Misari (II) was supplanted by Cristobal usurpation fostered and confirmed by regional paraCargua Alaya, who ruled the cacicazgo for twelve years mounts and Spanish administrators. The original line by appointment of the saya paramount, Francisco Apo from Apo Misari down through Juan Mango Misari (II) Cusichaca. The latter's son, Juan Ticse Cusichaca, was followed the patrilateral inheritance of political power, witness to Alaya's formal investiture by the Spanish described in the pre-Inka oral history. This power was authorities the next year, despite well-founded protest- corroborated by Thupa Inka Yupanki's grant of the ations that Alaya was from a different ayllu. Testimony cacicazgo and succession of generations of kurakas. In disclosed that the saya paramount may have been favor- contrast, Juan Julca Misari misrepresented his position ably inclined toward Cristobal Cargua Alaya, because to be legitimate lord, rather than regent, to the inspector the latter had served the former from childhood. It thus da Silva, providing grounds for suits by Misari's kin appears that the paramount stood to gain the loyalty of group. Finally, the appointment of an elite by the saya the kuraka, by placing afictiverelative in the position of paramount, combined with the assertion of Spanish ayllu lord. Ultimately, the litigation resulted in the con- authorities that he was more able than another canditinued investiture of the Alaya line by the Spanish date, provided the means by which a usurper was installed in office. authorities.3

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The last point directs attention to the role of regional lords in power relations among lower elites under Spanish rule. The replacement of subordinate elites by more malleable officials was well-established by the Inkas and it is hardly surprising that the regional elites continued this practice. It is provocative that an ayllu regent (Juan Julca Misari [I]) aspired to have an outsider appointed, since this raises the possibility that something comparable had been done previously. Only the paramount Cusichaca, however, apparently had the power to appoint subject lords over the objections of the affected ayllu. In a broad sense, this action suggests the means of development of a stratum of elites who were not necessarily directly related to the groups over which they ruled. The third element of factional competition underscored by these lawsuits is that participation in the courts made it advantageous for the indigenous populace to ally themselves with well-placed Spaniards. For instance, the curador Pedro de Amaya spoke on Gonzalo Paitan Misari's behalf in 1571 (Espinoza 1969:doc. l:p. 53), an alliance that indicates AndeanEuropean cooperation undertaken to the benefit of both parties. In the 1558-61 depositions, numerous Spaniards also provided corroborative testimony, including Damian de la Bandera (Guacrapaucar 1971c:257-9), who would be the visitador of the Valley in 1571, and Ines Yupanqui, sister of the Inka emperor Atawalpa (pp. 254-7). What each of the Spaniards stood to gain from their partisan support is unclear, but the collaboration between native and conqueror in factional disputes had become an active element of political action in the colonial period. Summary of the early colonial period

The collapse of Inka control left a partial power vacuum in the sierra, which was not immediately filled by the conquistadores. The nature of factional competition is hazy for the succeeding couple of decades, although rifts clearly existed among the conquistadores themselves, subject ethnic groups, and even the Inkas concerning the appropriate leadership of European and native groups. Once armed resistance was curtailed and colonial power began to take hold, jockeying among native elites became evident in court and administrative documents. These conditions created a situation in which individuals emphasized political ties based on ethnic affiliation, kin ties, and local and colonial factional relations. The Spanish conquest thus added new sources of claims to status and resources and created new rules of adjudication.

Summary and conclusion

This paper has examined changes in the role of factional competition in the central Peruvian sierra during three periods of differing political circumstances: indigenous development, Inka imperial rule, and Spanish colonial rule. The evidence suggests that the generation, nature, and resolution of factional conflict shifted across periods, but that it worked in concert with hierarchical competition, alliance formation, and peer polity competition to shape political actions in each period. During Wanka II, warfare, and political and physical shifting of population together produced a situation in which demographically, environmentally, and politically well-placed groups could assert domination in the region. This process was undoubtedly fraught with rises and falls in the welfare of differing factions, but the shift toward differentiated society appears to have occurred rapidly - during five to ten generations. The rise of the Inka state itself and the succession to power within it exemplify the factionalism that characterized the Andean sierra during the thirteenth through sixteenth centuries. The state successfully reduced local hostilities, but created new sources of dispute in the process. For a militaristic chiefdom and then expansionist state, the fractious means of succession to the Inka throne may have been effective for selecting leadership. In an empire in which consolidation of control supplanted conquest, it became a destructive force. Competition between Atawalpa and Wascar for the throne precipitated a civil war and the losing Wankas joined forces with the Spaniards in overthrowing the Inka rule. During the early colonial period, the alliances created in the pursuit of court cases contributed to a grass-roots affiliation between some Spaniards and native elites. The testimony by Spaniards on behalf of native claims is indicative of a relationship of mutual assistance often lost in the overwhelming circumstances of exploitation. Factional disputes between native groups thus bonded the indigenous peoples to the Spanish juridical system and sometimes to individuals within colonial society. Limitations on the use of force, initially imposed by the Inkas, gave weak claimants the ability to demand rights they could not assert without an imperial system to which they had redress. This shifted the balance among aspirants to power, although it did not provide an even playingfield.Access to the Spanish courts also provided a new foundation on which indigenous claimants could base their cases.

Factionalism and political development in the central Andes The dynamics of factional relations in the Upper Mantaro region thus changed significantly with the Inka and Spanish conquests. Both the nature and resolution of disputes were restructured in the process, but factional competition retained a pivotal role in politics, no matter the ultimate source of power. A cknowledgments I thank my colleagues on the Upper Mantaro Archaeological Research Project, whose collaboration and sharing of data made this paper possible: Cathy Costin, Timothy Earle, Melissa Hagstrum, Christine Hastorf, Marilyn Norconk, Bruce Owen, Glenn Russell, and Elsie Sandefur. Ronald Bishop characterized the ceramics and collaborated in their statistical analysis and publication. Timothy Earle and the volume editors are thanked for their comments, along with Victor A. Buchli and Terry Levine who drafted or shared maps. Funding was provided by the National Science Foundation (BNS-8203723), Brookhaven National Laboratory, UCLA, the UCLA Friends of Archaeology, and Columbia University, whose support I gratefully acknowledge.

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Notes 1 It is intriguing to note that none of the regional paramounts or immediate subordinates mentioned in numerous other contemporaneous documents was included in this inquiry. Whether this was deliberate or whether other Toledan documentation that included the paramounts had been lost is not clear. 2 Detailed discussions of the settlement data presented here may be found in LeBlanc (1981); Earle et al. (1987), and D'Altroy (1992). 3 Dunbar (1942) has traced a comparable case within the Apoayala family, over succession to the position of saya paramount over the region's southernmost saya, Ananwanka. Here, two successive paramount lords were recognized by the Spanish authorities in 1558, 1563, and 1571. The last verification was undertaken by the same visitador, Jeronimo da Silva, about six months after his judgment of the case in Hatunxauxa. Over time, however, a kuraka of questionable legitimacy succeeded to office and thirty years of litigation ensued. 4 Ultimately (1564), a trip to Spain won some awards for the son of one of the paramounts, but only to Don Jeronimo Guacrapaucar, who had sailed in 1562-3, ostensibly to speak for all (Espinoza 1971:177-86, 388-407).

PART IV

Discussions

16 Factional competition and historical materialism GLENN PERUSEK

ialism which accepts the centrality of the cumulative development of the productive forces without neglecting the role of superstructural elements, active political intervention by real individual and collective social actors. It will be shown how the factionalism approach illuminates particular problems within this activist materialism. In the third part, I turn to the relationship between rationality and the factionalism approach. During the 1980s "rational choice Marxism," with a focus on strategic interaction of political and social actors, achieved great popularity in the English-speaking world. I argue that historical materialism must concern itself with problems of strategic action and that the factionalism approach implicitly accepts this concern. Varieties of historical materialism

This chapter aims to situate the present volume's relationship to historical materialism. These contributions argue that factional competition plays a crucial role in the social transformation of precolumbian America. Factions are hierarchical units, which include elites and masses engaged in a struggle over resources. This factionalism approach is a complement to two prevailing approaches to understanding social change in prehistory, Marxism and ecological functionalism. I will not deal here with the latter. But the claim that the factions approach contributes to Marxian theory raises an important problem. Many Marxisms exist. To which Marxism does this approach contribute? Much confusion and debate still exists about the nature of historical materialism, about the relationship between "base" and "superstructure," and particularly about the role of active human intervention in Marx's theory of history. Determinist and idealist interpretations of Marx's historical materialism do not allow much space for the sophisticated nuances of the factionalism approach. This essay argues that the factional conflict approach is consonant with an interpretation of historical materialism which centers on the cumulative development of the productive forces without neglecting political struggles. In other words, the factional conflict approach suggests that historical materialism need not conceive of analyses based upon economic structure and human agency as mutually exclusive modes of explanation. This essay is divided into three parts. The first examines determinist and idealist versions of historical materialism. The second identifies an alternative, what could be called an "activist materialism," an historical mater-

This section traces the development of historical materialism by contrasting the determinist interpretation of Kautsky and Plekhanov with the "idealist" interpretation of Althusser and Poulantzas. Historical materialism was first articulated in connection with mass politics in the 1890s by the theorists of the Second International. Kautsky and Plekhanov largely reduced historical materialism to a theory of social change determined by economic development (see Kautsky 1907; Plekhanov 1940). The forces of production inevitably advanced, dragging society along with them. Political actors, be they individuals, parties, or factions, played no independent role, were reduced to small status (Kautsky 1907:133-4). Certain passages in Marx's writings, if taken in isolation, appear to confirm this interpretation of historical materialism as an economic or technical determinism. Yet, they exist alongside a constant stress on the crucial role of active intervention by political agents in contending classes for determining real, historical outcomes. Such a role for political agents was missing from Kautskian materialism. Political agents could not play a positive role in an inevitable process of historical progress. Socialists could count on the capitalist system more or less to self-destruct. A socialist party could do little to hasten this downfall; indeed any positive actions threatened to dirty the party's reputation. Instead, the party's role was to build, patiently, to educate, and to stand for elections merely to register the inevitable development of "socialist consciousness" among the working class which was every bit as predetermined as economic development itself. Never would the party have the opportunity or obligation to step forward to make a revolution, or to lead the working class in making one. 191

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Kautsky's own lack of leadership in the crises of 1914, 1918, and 1923 was consistent with his theoretical position (see Kautsky 1964:136). Stalin's version of historical materialism was even more highly determinist or mechanical.1 He argued that the economic base was totally determinate. Ideas reflect economic reality; consciousness reflects technology; machines make art and politics (Stalin 1951:10). In Stalin's scheme, the party leadership had a monopoly on theory, which is used to organize the confused masses in "building the socialist order." In the process of building socialism, the working class is created. This is a fundamental reversal from classical Marxism, in which the working class was the active agent transforming society by taking control of production and politics. Marx originally insisted that socialism is the "selfemancipation of the working class." Here, the party builds socialism, the masses are a necessarily passive majority. Because the working class is removed from the equation, the "socialist order" resolves itself into mere state ownership and control of production. After 1956 a strong reaction against Stalinist theory occurred in the West.2 E. P. Thompson exemplified the new left tradition which rejected any determining or conditioning effect of base on superstructure. Although neo-Stalinists started from very different premises, they came to similar conclusions. The most important figure in this tradition was Louis Althusser, and his most important follower was Nicos Poulantzas. Althusser, asserting the autonomy of theory, criticized Stalin's deterministic refusal to grant any efficacy to the superstructure and Lukacs' conception of Marxian theory as the conceptual articulation of working-class political practice. He contended that both of these notions, in different ways, restrict the role of theory. Unlike Stalin, Althusser advanced a view of the superstructure as all powerful or all determining. Whereas in Stalin's hands historical materialism was reduced to a "theory of the productive forces," in Althusser's the notion of any kind of determination between economic base and political-social-juridical-ideological superstructure was rejected. For Althusser (1969:113) the analytical primacy of the economic base had evaporated: in History ... the superstructures ... are never seen to step respectfully aside when their work is done or, when the Time comes, as his pure phenomena, to scatter before His Majesty the Economy as he strides along the royal road of the Dialectic. From the first moment to the last, the lonely hour of the "last instance" never comes.

For Althusser, multiple practices exist in mutual independence. He spoke of economic practice, political practice, ideological practice, and even his own metier, "theoretical practice," as proceeding within its own "peculiar time," moving ahead of its own accord (Althusser 1969:167). But like Stalin, Althusser argued that "history is a process without a subject." Relations of production are abstract elements within a theoretical schema - they are the real historical subject. People (workers, employers, politicians, etc.) are mere occupants of abstract categories, not historical agents in their own right. People do not make their own history; social relations do. Poulantzas applied this theory to the state and classes under capitalism. He rejected (1975) any economic determination of social classes. Instead, social classes are determined by a myriad of factors - economic, political and ideological. Poulantzas saw the "new petit bourgeois" as central. He criticized those who would lump the new petit bourgeoisie in with the working class. Ultimately he defined the new petit bourgeoisie ideologically, on the basis of their ideas about distinctness from manual labor. The new petit bourgeoisie was a class because it is partially absorbed into the hegemonic ideology of capitalism. The political importance of Poulantzas' new petit bourgeoisie theory is that it reduces the working class to a rump which can only seek crossclass popular alliances (Wood 1986:42). Poulantzas went so far as to argue that conceiving of united working-class action is hopeless and reactionary. By the late 1970s, Poulantzas (1978) was arguing that any attempt to dismantle the capitalist state, such as the Portuguese revolution of 1974-5, constituted a threat to democracy. A smooth transition to socialism, which did not break apart the capitalist state, was required. Factional conflict within the state transformed it into a terrain for struggle between popular forces (the Communist Party, social democratic parties, the new petit bourgeoisie, and non-hegemonic factions of capital) and hegemonic ones (the "monopoly" faction of capital), making peaceful transition possible. In Poulantzas' scheme, struggle does not necessarily or predominantly revolve around class-based issues. It is, rather, a struggle between politically determined blocks - the hegemonic and the anti-monopoly. As with Foucault, power replaces production as the organizing concept. Such an approach has more to do with poststructuralism than with any variety of Marxian materialism. Unlike Poulantzas, at least Derrida and Foucault openly admit that this is so. The alternative suggested by the present paper is a return to a reinterpreted and

Factional competition and historical materialism fortified version of historical materialism in its classical incarnation. It is to such an interpretation we now turn. Marx's materialism Marx argued for the fundamental importance of the economic base. The economic base includes two distinctive elements: the forces of production, tools, equipment, etc., and the relations of production, the relationships between and among classes of individuals who are engaged in production (capitalists and workers, landlords and serfs, landowners and slaves). Upon this economic foundation rises a non-economic "superstructure." The superstructure includes politics (the state, and more), ideology, religion, and other noneconomic structures and institutions. The precise relationship between the economic base and the noneconomic superstructure is a crucial problem. The famous "Preface to a Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy," the main source within Marx's own writings on method available until the 1920s, appears to argue that a one-way, determining relationship exists between the economic base and the non-economic superstructure. As Marx (1969:1, 502) put it in the "Preface," The mode of production of material life conditions the social, political and intellectual life process in general. It is not the consciousness of men that determines their being, but, on the contrary, their social being that determines their consciousness. Such statements have led Elster (1985), Cohen (1978), and others to conceive of Marx's theory of history as an economic or technological determinism. But practically any relationships between base and superstructure can be defended as representing Marx's view of history if one takes isolated quotations from his different works. Marx also argued, in the same long paragraph, that what moves history forward is precisely the fact that relations of production which once were functional for the development of particular productive forces have become fetters on it; this conflict causes social revolution. This struggle between forces and relations of production does not remain economic, but rather is fought out on political, ideological, philosophical - in short superstructural - grounds. The transformation from one mode of production, far from being determined in advance by the inexorable movement of history, is decided by the powers of political mobilization within and between classes. Marx (1969:1, 109) did not think the outcome of such struggles was a foregone conclusion. On the contrary, class struggles could end "either in a revolutionary

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re-constitution of society . . . , or in the common ruin of the contending classes." Several points need to be made. First, Marx defined two kinds of conflict within the base-superstructure model. One conflict occurs between forces of production and relations of production, what we could call "base conflict." Relations of production can for a long time foster the advancement of the productive forces within a given mode of production. But at some point the existing relations of production come into conflict with, or act as a fetter upon, productive forces. This occurs because the ruling classes, as part of the business of ruling, erect a whole set of superstructural institutions. Some of these (legal property rights, for example) may be beneficial to production. But others (say, an overgrown bureaucracy) might actually act as a drain on economic production. Along with every superstructural institution is a segment of the ruling class, a grouping of individuals with vested interests in maintaining the status quo. This is an important material foundation for factional conflict. As Harman (1986:15) argues: Those who command the armies, the police and the priesthoods live off the surplus obtained by exploitation just as much as do the direct exploiters. But they also develop particular interests of their own: they want their share of the surplus to be as great as possible; they want certain sorts of material production to take place to suit the particular needs of their institutions; they want their sort of lifestyle to be valued more highly than that of those involved in direct production. A materially segmented ruling class is a solid basis for factional conflict within itself. Interested rulers can be expected to mobilize whatever resources at their disposal, either to defend their vested interests or, if more aggressive, to poach on the prerogatives of others (Eisenstadt 1969:115-55). In general, in pre-capitalist societies, ruling classes were interested in preserving the economic status quo. Thus, they declared new methods of production illegal, found them immoral, or physically destroyed sites of such production.3 This signified conflict between political and social actors, between an old ruling class (with its mode of production) and a rising class, with a new way of producing. This is, in the first instance, economic conflict. But it is not fought out in economic terms. "Base conflict" causes massive political and ideological struggles to break out. These are conflicts in the superstructure. The outcome of such conflicts is not a foregone conclusion, and these superstructural conflicts will

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but not yet for itself. In the struggle ... this mass determine, in the next era, the way that production will be carried out. The old ruling class may be able to defeat becomes united, and constitutes itself as a class for the rising class, or forestall its victory, for a very long itself. The interests it defends become class interests. time. The old ruling class or a portion of it may adopt But the struggle of class against class is a political many of the methods of the rising class, stealing its struggle. (Marx 1963:173) thunder. Political and ideological conflicts may result in impasse, such that social ruin will result. This could lead This is not merely a matter conducted within classes. to economic retrogression. Or, finally, the new ruling Contending classes - or portions of them - conduct class may be victorious; their political victory will usher propaganda and agitation within their own class and in a new era of production on a different basis, a new across class lines for their political and economic intermode of production. ests. Different segments of different classes attempt to Two things stand out in this account. First, both the impose their view of the politics and the future on other determinist and voluntarist interpretations of Marx segments. To some extent, all classes will have an articuargue that the superstructure is relatively unimportant. lation of political views, and competing visions of poliBut as Harman (1986:14) has argued, 'Tar from ignoring tics. Within the working class, under capitalism, gradathe impact of the 'superstructure' on the 'base,' ... Marx tions of opinion exist, organized or unorganized, from builds his whole account of human history around it." left to right. Conflict between an old ruling class and a rising class is a Rival classes have different resources for influencing matter of political mobilization within the classes and other classes. Employers under capitalism have great the strategic interaction between classes. Marx did not resources to deploy in the political and ideological posit class solidarity - class solidarity is a contingent struggle, between each other and with other classes. To feature of real, historical situations. Leading elements look at this from a micro-perspective, in any industry, within contending classes must organize for their poli- the struggle for unionization of a group of workers can tical struggles. If leadership is lacking, a rising economic be conceived simultaneously as a struggle within classes class may never come to power. While Marx argued that and a struggle between them. Individuals in the working social being determines consciousness in the "Preface," class may attempt to organize workers into a union. at other points the relationship between conditions and They are attempting to convince fellow workers of a consciousness is put differently. In The German Ideology particular conception of their interests and of a more or (1969:1, 13): "circumstances make men just as much as less definite plan of activity to advance their interests. men make circumstances." And in the "Theses on Feu- They may be resisted by other workers who have a erbach" (1969:1, 42): "The materialist doctrine [of Feu- different conception of workers' interests and effective erbach] that men are products of circumstances and strategies. This is, from the perspective of union upbringing, and that, therefore, changed men are pro- conscious militants, a conflict between advanced and ducts of other circumstances and changed upbringing, backward workers. forgets that it is men that change circumstances and that Competition divides [workers'] interests. But the the educator himself needs educating." maintenance of wages, this common interest which Nor did Marx neglect conflicts which do not turn on they have against their boss, unites them in a common potential shifts in the mode of production. Even within a thought of resistance - combination. Thus combinsingle mode of production, a whole range of political ation always has a double aim, that of stopping comoutcomes is possible. Within a mode of production, petition among the workers, so that they can carry on empires can be created and destroyed, and all sorts of general competition with the capitalist. (Marx other superstructural phenomena can be transformed. 1963:172) The point for Marx was that these are not cumulative changes, as is the progressive development of the proNon-union consciousness workers are often under the ductive forces (see also Lukacs 1971 and Labriola 1918). sway of ideological forces which come from outside of For Marx, class unity had to be fought for and mobi- the working class: a religious institution, the employers themselves, or the state, speaking for the employing class lized. It was a contingent outcome of practical activity. in general. The effectiveness of these "alien" influences The combination of capital has created for this mass the quality of the propaganda, the efficiency of its dis[of workers] a common situation, common interests. semination - will affect the outcome of a particular This mass is thus already a class as against capital, organizing drive. Thus, the struggle for unionization can

Factional competition and historical materialism be seen as a conflict between classes, but also as a conflict within the working class. Of course, not all interest conflict is class-based conflict. Conflict between segments of industrial capital, or sectional struggle over the division of resources, say, on a geographical basis, may be quite strong. But this is conflict within, based upon a single mode of production. Conflict which organizes whole classes in epochchanging struggle - the struggle of the rising European bourgeoisie against the old regimes, for example - laid the political foundation for the organization of economic life on a new basis. Any sophisticated treatment of real historical circumstances from a Marxian perspective (for instance, Trotsky's writing on the Russian revolution of 1917 or on the rise of fascism in Germany) must take into account both the political conflicts within classes and the potential for rivalry or unity between classes. Rationality, factions, and paradoxes of collective action

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unilateral defection (become 'free riders') then ultimately no one will enjoy the benefits of the collective good (all will fall to mutual defection). Most problems of collective action, certainly the ones that are most often discussed in social scientific literature, bear essentially these features.5 At bottom, collective action theory argues that this is the structure of many of the problems which face political, economic, and social actors. Olson argued that selective incentives - which are available only to contributors to collective goods - could mitigate this logic of collective action. Others have argued that entrepreneurship (willingness on the part of some minority to bear the costs of collective action) or extra-rational behavior could also mitigate the general conclusion that large groups will fail to provide collective goods. 6 Several criticisms have been leveled at collective action theory. Individuals often are motivated by something other than rational self-interest. Downs (1975) argued that non-voting could be explained in collective action terms (where the benefit was the differential value of one candidate's winning over another's, and the cost was the effort required to go to the polls). Because individuals did not greatly value one candidate over another, and because they realized their own vote mattered so little, the benefits of voting were outweighed by the cost of going to the polls. But if this accounts for non-voting by a large portion of the electorate, how can the persistent voting of at least a sizeable minority of the electorate be explained? The sensible response is that even if the logic does not operate universally, it may shed light on the problem of non-voting. Similarly, no union organizer, can afford to ignore the fact that the logic of collective action exists in open shop situations; indeed, the fact that unions fight so vociferously for the union shop is an indication of the vitality of the logic. This means not that union organizations will never be formed in open shop settings, but that it will be harder without some selective incentives. Likewise, advocates of easing voter registration understand that reducing the costs (in time, effort, advance planning) of voting will increase turnout. They need not consider all potential voters to be affected by an individual cost-benefit calculation to think that the logic plays an important role in nonvoting.

Since the late 1970s, an original Marxian theory has been developed in the English-speaking world. Analytical Marxism is a broad approach distinguished by the use of methods of analytical philosophy and "positivist" social science (Callinicos 1989:1-5). Perhaps the most important trend within Analytical Marxism is "rational choice Marxism," which explicitly fuses axioms derived from neoclassical economics and a concern with collective action problems to traditional Marxian subject matter. Because rational choice Marxism is especially concerned with strategic problems of organization, and because of its influence on contemporary Marxists, it deserves to be examined here. One of the main benefits of this new school of Marxism is that it focuses precisely on strategic problems in social change.4 The essential logic of collective action can be summarized as follows. Individual actions are motivated by self-interest. Rational individuals are efficient in securing their self-interest. When a group of individuals can act in concert to achieve some common good, and can prevent those who do not contribute to its achievement from enjoying the good, no collective action problem exists. The good is called "private" because non-contributors can be prevented from enjoying it. However, Others have criticized collective action theory for when the good a group is seeking is a "collective good," focusing too much attention on individual choices and by definition the group cannot exclude non-contributors not enough on the historical conditions in which choices from enjoyment of the good. The paradox of collective take place. This is a valid criticism. To understand why action is that if enough individuals who are currently collective action occurs in specific situations, the context engaged in mutual cooperation (paying dues and enjoy- of ethnic or political solidarity within groups must be ing the benefits of a union contract) decide to choose taken into account. Unfortunately, much work done

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within this approach is devoid of such historical sense. Both theflowof history and sensitivity to the singularity of individual cases are missing in such work (see Hardin 1987; Levi 1988). When considering factional conflict, collective action theory is useful in the first instance for illuminating the problems which must be overcome if an oppositional faction is to arise in the first place. Considerable costs are involved in declaring oneself an opponent of a powerful, established ruler. Even a wide layer of potential oppositionists, all of whom would favor the organization of a factional opposition, may still prefer that some other individual take the first step. This helps to account for the inertia in power of "illegitimate" authoritarian rulers. A higher level of factional conflict may be associated with conditions where joining or changing factions is relatively easy, as Spencer (chapter 3) argues in the case of the Mekranoti. The Mekranoti appear to be a case where joining factions is cost free. A relatively free "political market" leads individual factional leaders to exchange gifts for factional allegiance, and they must maintain the satisfaction of their factional membership or lose members to more enterprising rivals. By contrast, Pollard, Brumfiel, and Zantwijk (chapters 7, 8, 9) all explore cases where rulers used common ethnic characteristics to define factional alignments. Common histories about ethnic groupings serve to legitimize ongoing social relationships, or to fragment a ruler's authority. The conception of ethnicity may or may not have had basis in genuinely common and distinctive practices. This suggests that factions are not merely competitive bodies based upon calculations of self-interest by individual leaders and followers. As Nicholas (1966:56) has argued, the bases for factionalism could be many. Some cliques are made up of a strong family, its affines, and its servants; a small, close-knit caste group, or a group of young men who had been schoolmates, might also compose a clique. This form of factional leadership, which is adapted to overcoming the resource weakness of individual leaders, requires strong consensus in the political objectives of the leading clique. Basing factional unity upon ethnic identity may be "extra-rational," but such bonds are no weaker as a result. If, as Bailey (1977:21-36) has suggested, factional activity is widely regarded as narrowly self-interested and "cancerous" to the wider political or social unit, basing it upon ethnic claims may be all the more necessary. Indeed, an important general insight about group

action in the contemporary world is that collective action problems are often solved by means of such cultural markers, precisely because they allow political actors to bypass the process of calculating self-interest and the accusation of anti-social intent. Redmond (Chapter 4) demonstrates the importance of the simple logic of free riding in explaining the differential capacity of leaders to wage war. In contrasting the war-making ability of tribes and chiefdoms, she notes that among tribes participation in raids was not mandatory. Raiders would regularly claim to suffer ailments to be excused from battle. Without formal title or organizational means, tribal leaders could not compel obedience. But warring chiefs, who could compel troops to fight, had no such problem with free riders among their followers. Hirschman (1970) has argued that, broadly, individuals have three types of response to organizational decline - "exit," the market solution of transferring allegiance, "voice," the political solution of protest within the organization, and "loyalty," or sufferance with unsatisfactory conditions. The literature on factionalism, including several chapters of the present volume, has attempted to discern the conditions under which factionalism will occur. Spencer (chapter 3) contends that an environment of endemic war-making increased forces which tended to centralize political life. Factional leaders' power was increased by the exigencies of war-making. Kowalewski (chapter 12) suggests that the absence of opportunities for territorial or political gain through warmaking, and the persistence of a stable distribution of economic resources diminished the opportunities for factionalism in Oaxaca. D'Altroy's (chapter 15) periodization admits factionalism both before and after the existence of a strong, imperial state in the central Andes. The wider literature on factionalism suggests that organizational or economic decline is a strong incentive to factional action. In contemporary American unions, factionalism appears endemic precisely when workers are forced to accept wage cuts and declining working conditions. While leaders can deliver real wage increases and relatively stable working conditions, workers are not encouraged to turn to rival leaders. But declining conditions appear to give rise to factional conflict. Furthermore, crisis conditions created by war probably should not be seen as having a simple effect on factional conflict. Warmaking often spurs a centralizing impulse, allowing state leaders to circumvent normal procedures and accumulate more power in their own hands. But long drawn-out war-created crises, particularly those

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which end in military defeat, can unleash centrifugal argues convincingly against. The whole movement in pressures in even the most centralized state. For political anthropology to assert the importance of indiinstance, consider the impact of World War One on vidual choice, strategy, and factional competition is part German society. The initial crisis led to centralization of a wider intellectual shift away from the determining and an increased power of the state and military leaders, role of social structure and explaining discrete social as oppositional elements were subordinated within the phenomena in terms of function in the wider social burgfrieden ("fortress peace"). But by 1918, the hard- system.7 ships of war - especially when it became clear that defeat was in the offing - led to a revolutionary challenge which swept away the Kaiser and ushered in the Weimar Conclusions Republic. It is difficult to see how the study of political actors' Collective action theory shifts the focus of analysis strategic problems, emphasized in this volume, could fall away from social structures and the functions of social within the compass of either the determinist or Althussphenomena for larger social systems, and toward the erian world views. In a determinist interpretation of intentions of political agents acting within constraints historical materialism, active political intervention could that social structures and the choices of other agents not alter the inexorable forward march of the productive place upon them. For instance, according to Hicks forces. Somewhat ironically, Althusser's conception of (Chapter 10), the dominant Aztec strategy was to find "history as a process without a subject" also renders the allies among local elites, thus splitting and weakening political choices of strategic actors superfluous. The local opposition to imperial control. Rather than second part of this essay outlined an interpretation of viewing imperial expansion as inexorable or as a system- historical materialism which accepts the centrality of the serving mechanism, Hicks focuses on the strategic cumulative development of the productive forces choices made by actors with differential powers, oppor- without neglecting the role of superstructural elements, tunities, and constraints. He shows how political out- specifically, active political intervention. The study of comes were contingent on the choices made by these factional conflict is most consonant with this activist differentially endowed actors. Even powerful imperial interpretation of historical materialism. rulers were constrained actors in these situations: When, In the third part, I argue that the essential logic of in the case of Chalco, the empire consistently found no collective action theory, which is crucial to the recent local allies, they were forced to wage bitter and costly development of Analytical Marxism, is useful for comwar. Similarly, Clark and Blake (Chapter 2) argue that prehending factional conflict. Additionally, the fundasocial inequality develops as an unintended consequence mental insights of collective action theory can probably of factional aggrandizing activity. This is consonant with best be deployed in the analysis of real choice situations. the non-teleological orientation of collective action Therefore, historical case studies such as those in the theory's focus on strategic interaction. present volume are probably the best way to approach Determinist materialism explicitly neglects the role of strategic problems. If the activist interpretation of hisstrategy and the interaction between individuals and torical materialism, discussed in part two, which lays factions. But a materialism that admits the centrality of stress on the political and organizational problems and human agency, as I have argued for in this paper, must opportunities which arise from economic conflict, is necessarily be sensitive to collective action problems. plausible, then the strategic problems (that is, factional Indeed, Marx's own account of the periodic crises of conflict) illuminated by collective action theory are of capitalist economies hinges on capitalists' collective great importance to historical materialism. action problem, the "anarchy of production." If a group The factional conflict approach has important impliof firms in a given industry could voluntarily and per- cations for our interpretation of historical materialism. manently restrict the expansion of productive capacity, The activist interpretation of historical materialism regulating prices and output, crises of overproduction argues that when the productive forces are impeded by need never occur. But they find it difficult to overcome relations of production which originally arose on the their collective action problem, for each individual firm basis of them, questions of politics become all imporhas incentives to defect from such oligopolistic arrange- tant. If the old regime has sufficient political acumen, it ments (Ryan 1987). Such attention might help overcome can organize to forestall the onslaught of the rising class. the tendency in historical materialist studies toward But if the rising class solves its collective action probfunctionalist explanations, which Elster (1979:28-35) lems, it may be able to overcome the old class and usher

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in a new social era, based on a new mode of production. Economic development presents certain opportunities to class-based political actors. The outcome of such crises is never determined in advanced. Rather, it is entirely contingent on the political action - mobilization and organization - of the rival classes. Interestingly, a striking parallel exists between Marxist thought and western anthropology in their movement from determinism to a focus on human agency. In the heyday of the second international, Marxism was dominated by determinism; in Althusser, the determining role of economic structure was abandoned. Like determinist Marxism, western anthropology, whether in its French structuralist or English structural-functionalist incarnation, also downplayed the active process of human agency in creating social forms. In structural-functionalism, societies were conceived as systems and particular features were explained in terms of their contribution, the function they fulfilled, in maintaining the system as a whole. Western anthropology, by the 1960s and 1970s, shifted its focus to agency conflictual process, the role of strategy, factions, and struggle now overshadowed structure and function. Currently popular trends of social thought, from rational choice theory to post-structuralism, tend to emphasize human agency in preference to economic structure, just as Kautsky and Radcliffe-Brown so emphasized structure as to strangle human agency. The present volume suggests we need not conceive of agency and structure as elements of such mutually exclusive modes of explanation. Notes 1 This account draws substantially from Harris (1971:152-66). 2 The discussion of Althusser and Poulantzas draws heavily on Callinicos (1982:53-80) and Wood (1986:25^6).

3 Consider, for example, the ancient Chinese empires, replete with conflict between rulers and the rising class of merchants. As early as the time of the Warring States, rulers discredited the occupations of artisan and shopkeeper (Loewe 1966:208-9). The Ch'in dynasty deported shopkeepers and proscribed commercial activities in the name of social stability (Granet 1958:103). Han emperors banned private iron and salt works, confiscated merchant property and established state monopolies. Merchants were forbidden to invest in landed property or from becoming state officials (Granet 1958:114, 408, 415). For centuries the Confucian imperial bureaucracies discouraged Chinese involvement in foreign trade; it remained in foreign hands until the thirteenth century. Given that imperial China witnessed important developments in the forces of production, far in advance of Europe, it is a paradigm case of the productive forces being fettered by existing political and social arrangements. 4 Given these developments, materialist anthropologists probably should not allow Service (1975) to monopolize discussion of strategies of decision making in the study of state formation. Analytical Marxism is centrally concerned with the problems of decision making under constraints - this is the problem of political mobilization. 5 But see Taylor (1987) for the important but often neglected discussion of collective action problems with other fundamental structures. 6 The classic work is Olson (1965). 7 Bailey (1977:34n): "To have an interest in factions was, at one time, itself a factional posture. Those who disdained to use the word 'faction' were the leaders of structural-functional anthropology... Obviously factional behavior was written off as unstructured behavior, unpredictable and irregular, and therefore beyond the scope of structural analysis. In carving out the statuesque form of structure, factions (like individuals and choice) fell among the material discarded in order to reveal a form."

17 Conclusions: moietal opposition, segmentation, and factionalism in New World political arenas JOHN W. FOX

In aboriginal American societies, factions competed for power, prestige, authority, and material benefits. A counterpositioning of structurally similar corporate groups, often in pairs, generated factional competition. This collection provides case studies on factional competition in a variety of environmental settings and on the methods for discerning factionalism across a gamut of social fields. Theoretical approaches to conflict and change

A steady theoretical stream has attempted to explain exogenous cause and culture effect (adaptation) in the evolution of simple to more complex societies. In the positivist tradition, with Newton drawing analogy to the clock, a principal machine of his day, eighteenth- and nineteenth-century social theoreticians sought the forces that set the three-fold (savagery, barbarism, civilization) "evolutionary clock" in motion (e.g. climate for Montesquieu). During the 1920s to 1950s, a "dynamist approach" focused on the basic "tensions inherent in any society" (Balandier 1970:17-18), but conflict was said to improve social functioning. Newton's smoothly running clock was transposed synchronically; groups strove teleologically to maintain the well-oiled social machine for the greater social good. For cultural ecologists, environmental stress was the catalyst to evolution. In essence, Newton's smoothly functioning system was recast as trophic exchanges and competition. But "systems models cannot explain chronic problems generated by the very operation of the system as constituted, such as civil wars, succession disputes or tax evasion" (Gailey and Patterson 1987:5)

other than as Malthusian competition for material resources-i.e., biological reductionism. Darwinian-like competition removed the dysfunctional social parts while the evolutionary clock ticked uniformly upward in the spiral of cultural evolution. According to such linearity, environmental resources as exploited by technology determined amounts of food, which in turn determined community size, whose economy shaped political organization and ideology (de Montmollin 1989:8-9). In contrast, the present volume examines a political dialectic, arguing that ideology and social organization often change as a result of political action. Rather than being prime movers, technology, land, and labor are simply factors of production manipulated to promote factional interests. While native American technology (e.g., obsidian tools, raised-field agriculture) was essentially unchanged from the Formative, its use by social labor differed within different political contexts. As Clark and Blake (Chapter 2) argue, technoeconomic development and demographic change are consequences of factional competition. People are a major production factor, and political strategies involve manipulating social relations to increase benefits. The Quiche example (Chapter 14) shows that political strife can explain transformed social relations where environmental variables fail. Urbanism resulted from intrusive lineages who nucleated for protection, rather than to exploit ecological symbiosis or arid soils with irrigation, or exchange valuable natural resources. External pressure and internal factional manipulation gave form and direction to the Quiche "coalition." Because factionalism pervades all groups, from households to social classes, we focus upon incompatibilities, tensions, and contradictions within and between social clusters. Competition and conflict occur at social boundaries, for instance between lineages within clans or moieties. In this view, states comprise pyramidally nested social segments cross-cut by innumerable factions. The double-edged phenomena of internal personal goals and external exigencies shape factions and their behavior. Overall, two directions of dialectical transformation are evident. First, competitive strife among social equivalents in a kinship mode of production (Wolf 1982) results in lateral social movement and simple quantitative change. For example, segmental kinship groups bonded or broke apart as separate building blocks with options to relocate. Second, struggle among peoples of contrasting social status (classes) resulted in qualitative changes of organic solidarity (e.g., Zhao 1986, 1989). For example, underclasses assumed new tasks in production and eventually formed new ethnic identities in a 199

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tributary mode of production. Factions occurred within the same social strata. For example, families of elite Aztec or Inka vied for positions of authority within the capital (Zantwijk, chapter 9; D'Altroy, chapter 15). Factions also recruited across social strata. Patronclientage groupings occurred in provincial communities allying Aztec or Quiche patrons with local constituents (Brumfiel, chapter 8; Hicks, chapter 10; Fox, chapter 14). Endogenous processes within social arenas resulted in discontinuous and often non-progressive change. For example, rebellion was a recurrent process for segmentary states in the New World and Africa (Gluckman 1956). Implicit uniform change gives way to the irregularities of punctated evolution and even devolution (Fox 1987:259). For example, the Postclassic Mayan states were far smaller than their Classic counterparts. But like quantum mechanics, with a multitude of seemingly random interactions of particles and waves in specified fields with uncertain outcomes, factional competition results in a myriad of possible evolutionary outcomes, each predictable to only a minor degree. The propelling force for change is competing groups, rationally maximizing "utility," whether as direct profits or as increased prestige which can then be parlayed into economic advantage (Schneider 1974, Cohen 1976:22). Symbolic systems of thought both channel political actions and are transformed by political action. Even though rules may stipulate access to authority and strategic resources, brokers incessantly circumvent the established rules through actions of personal power and by so doing create new social formations and new rules. Specific political actions transform corporate identities and mythic charters. As a consequence, there is constant discord between the somewhat necessarily ambiguous systems of ideas (the ideal model) and the perpetual real political contestations within and between corporate bodies and factions. Social charters and symbols.

People uniting to advance special interests require insignia and distinctive practices to distinguish themselves from their rivals and to suggest a shared heritage. Myth furnishes a charter and explains inequalities in power. For example, Mesoamerican myth paired brothers who allied against common foes (e.g., Junajpu and Xbalanque of the Maya) or who contested one another for the spoils of conquest (e.g., Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca). Such bipolarity bespeaks day-to-day factionalism, ideologically linked to the calendar. Acquiring the identity of

the sun and the concomitant right to manipulate relations within the body politic pervaded Mesoamerican mythology. The Classic-Postclassic transition saw peoples from collapsed polities migrate and coalesce with indigenes to form new ethnic bodies. The Codex Zouche-Nuttall defines relations between new factions that emerged from the collapse of Classic polities in the Mixteca Alta (Byland and Pohl, chapter 10). In central Mexico, the feud between the peaceful Quetzalcoatl and the warlike Tezcatlipoca reflects deeply seated schism, followed by political collapse and refigured polities in new localities. Of dual authority, one figure (Quetzalcoatl) furnished authority based on genealogy; the other (Tezcatlipoca) embodied the authority of warriors (of indigenous descent?). Zantwijk (chapter 9) argues that the Aztecs maintained bipartite factionalism with the warrior Huitzilopochtli pitted against those under Tlaloc who persisted in the "Toltec" lifeways. Clearly, claims to a Classic ancien regime were a tactic for strengthening positions to manipulate subjects and their production. The Toltec connection, whether mythic or legendary, became "grounds for material self-interest" (see Worsley 1984:240). For the Postclassic Maya, ethnohistory begins with the appearance of Quetzalcoatl (Kukulcan), which provided a justification for inequality between invading Putun and local Maya. In mythology and politics, this Feathered Serpent transformed from Venus to the sun (Nacxit) both in the Yucatan and in the Quichean highlands (Jakawitz/Gakawitz [Venus] to K'ucumatz [Sun]). K'ucumatz was clearly a Quetzalcoatl reincarnate; both relied upon airborne flight to vanquish adversaries, and both revenged a slain father. Asserting supernatural power in divine kingship allowed one lineage to further its ambitions over rivals. Political groups rechartered ethnic and mythological identities as power was acquired or lost. While polities discussed in this volume endured four to thirty generations, ethnic groups continually merged or were absorbed and redefined. Pollard (chapter 7) for the Tarascans, Brumfiel (chapter 8) for the Otomi, and Byland and Pohl (chapter 10) for the Mixtec and Zapotec demonstrate the fluidity of ethnicity. After subjugation by the Aztecs, the Otomi wore distinctive labrets less and opted for Aztec adornment. When marrying, Mixtec and Zapotec nuptials would wear half the face paint of the other group. Zantwijk (chapter 9) explains that among the Aztecs corporate membership and ethnic identity could be claimed through either paternal or maternal links, depending upon the potential advantages of each. Cer-

Conclusions

tainly ethnic malleability allowed access to strategic positions within unitary states. Within the segmentary Quiche state, conquered peoples were recruited to become ethnic Quiche (e.g., the Nijaib). Outsiders (Cotuja) were also incorporated according to the symbolism of the calendar. Alignment to celestial bodies justified degrees of privilege from inter-lineage maneuvers. The ethnohistories codified social status in "tribal" histories that commenced with migration from a primordial homeland guided by a patron deity. Principal enemies of allied subgroups were listed and differential access to power was sanctioned by those who became guardians of tradition (Balandier 1970:34). Factionalism in archaeology and ethnohistory

The ethnography of factionalism discussed by Brumfiel (chapter 1) stresses the informal linkages between power brokers and their clients to gain advantages over equipoised "clientage" groups, that is, competition in zero-sum settings where leader/followers ally to enhance mutual self-interests. However, the basis for identifying the ever-fluctuating factional bond in archaeology is barely developed. Fortunately, ethnohistory adds events of "official strife" back to the AD 900s generally, and in Maya hieroglyphics to AD 200. Accordingly, groups and leaders are named, and social exchange (marriages, wars, alliances, patron-client bonding, commercial transactions, and tribute payments) gains illumination. Therefore, ethnohistory may "bridge" conflict theory and inert archaeological/environmental residue. And ethnographic analogy provides a lens as to how factions generate tensions. Writing and power correlate; nonstates lack formal history. In segmentary states, like those of the Maya, the almost exclusive proprietors of historical knowledge were the one or two highest ranked lineages. Therefore, ethnohistory was the prerogative of power brokers whose written discourse concerned dealings with other elites in coups, conquests, and rituals of alliance. Rarely are clients in subordinate positions named. Also omitted are defeats, and endemic intrigue, and the usurping of power and authority. The customary behind-the-scenes intrigue and manipulation by power brokers and their constituents usually escaped transcription. But factionalism is inherently spatial. The geometry of power relations is borne out in arrangements of monumental architecture and in proximity to key natural resources. Clark and Blake (chapter 2), Spencer

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(chapter 3), Anderson (chapter 6), and Kowalewski (chapter 11) discuss how factional competition incorporates specific topography to gain access to resources. Within sites and regions, the centrality and size of buildings is often proportionate to the power exercised. For example, as a Quiche lineage increased its power, it increased its centrality of location. From settlement pattern alone, a basic bipolarity (moiety structure?) is discerned at many Mesoamerican sites, across three millennia. Clearly, dichotomous factionalism underpinned transformative movement in Mesoamerican civilization. Thus, Preclassic Olmec La Venta reveals two plazas north of a central circular pyramid (Heizer, Graham, and Napton 1968), perhaps representing kinship groups that once vied for control. Similarly, at Cuicuilco, a wide circular temple bifurcates two circular residential clusters, possible descent groups (Marquina 1964). During the Classic period, the ritual centers of Uxmal and Copan were bipartitioned into a lower northern plaza and a southern elevated elite complex through a low-lying open-ended ballcourt. The ball game expressed competition and alliance between antagonists/ protagonists who were grouped as moieties of the day and of the night. The ethnohistoric record suggests that the elevation differences refer to political "niches" achieved by each "moiety"; the higher groups possessed ritual power and the lower groups military might (see Balandier 1970:81). Similarly, pairs of temples at Teotihuacan, Tula, and Tenochtitlan reflected binary groups in highland Mexico (see Zantwijk, chapter 9), seemingly as dual authority between conquerors and indigenes (see Fox 1981:331^4). Through the millennia, then, as centers experienced administrative breakdowns, and the meaning of authority was reformulated, the size and centrality of the temples and ballcourts steadily transformed, reflecting new attempts at channeling factional competition. The remainder of this chapter focuses upon the social transformations wrought by factional competition, framed spatially. It follows the volume format, examining factional struggle with various outcomes, contingent upon the size, complexity, and specific interactions: (1) allegiance to war leaders, then linkage within multiple village networks; (2) at times crystallizing into hereditary ranking; (3) accompanied by pervasive inter- and intrachiefdom conflict; (4) with segments that fissioned to new territories (e.g., Mississippian peoples); and (5) organizational shifts to ranking in segmentary (Maya) states and stratification in unitary states (e.g., the Aztecs and Inka). While coverage spans Mississippian peoples

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from the north and Andean peoples to the south, Mesoamerica emerges as a geographical and methodological focus.1 Transactional analysis - networking, warfare, and hereditary leadership

The first section of this volume (chapters 2-6) traces transformations of egalitarian and incipiently ranked groups. Competition among equipoised groups with undifferentiated kinship-based production units saw war leaders formulating patron-client linkages. Threats from opposing villages necessitated group mobilization, and strategic action by individual self-aggrandizers or big men established personal constituencies. Village war leaders attempted to reproduce leadership among their offspring - to pass on privileges they had achieved - usually without success beyond one or two generations. For the Circum-Caribbean, where raiding was endemic, Clark and Blake (chapter 2) and Redmond (chapter 4) propose how local war leaders became regional chieftains. They apply transactional analysis to the archaeological record, construing personal interaction as contests for enhancing power through struggle, scheming, and temporary alliance. Arenas comprised face-to-face interactions within villages and regional networks. Leadership was based upon the prestige of personal achievement in fighting and leading raids and the distribution of booty from raids, compelling clients' loyalty. Thus, bellicose external pressures preceded social/material exchange that cemented clients to patrons in mutual self-interest. Attempts were made to perpetuate leadership to offspring by transferring booty from raids, such as trophy heads, women, weapons, and ornaments to coming-of-age sons to enable them to recruit a following. However, prestige was usually dissipated with loss-of-face in unsuccessful raids. As contact with outsiders increased, the big-man figured as a broker between his own village and other villages. On the regional level, a village big-man offered military assistance, prestige goods, and marriage partners to his counterparts within region-wide networks. The big-man created relations of reciprocity in an everfluctuating web of cross-linkages. A big-man operated on a regional level beyond the leveling sanctions of his own village, where more ambiguous norms were easier to manipulate. Applying this model, Clark and Blake (chapter 2) chart the spread of maize cultivation and ceramics along region-to-region networks during the rapid transition (c. 2000-1500 BC) from late Archaic

egalitarian villages to Formative chiefdoms in coastal Mesoamerica. In more complex fields of interaction, the chiefdom ossified a multiple village network into a single polity. In this step-by-step transformation, Redmond (chapter 4) theorizes that military aggression intensified into a yearround activity for acquiring land, prestige goods, and war captives. External threats reinforced status, and authority crystallized with special privileges to estates, the labor of kin and non-kin, and luxury goods from afar. The gift-giving of the village big-man became redistribution where different kin units transferred produce to the chief and his retainers. That the precocious Olmec chiefdom took form through raiding is supported by purposely decapitated statues at the earliest Olmec center, San Lorenzo. There (1) raiding insurgents may have severed the stone heads of ancestors or deities apparently as trophies; or (2) the local population released supernatural power through ritualistic severing of heads (Grove 1981), recalling the political decapitation of Junajpu when the Ajaw Quiche lost power to the Cawek (chapter 14). In any event, the enormous carved heads, presumably of chiefs, personified institutionalized, dynastic power. Helms (chapter 8) reconstructs from ethnohistory how links between chiefs and clients were forged in the Panamanian isthmus at European contact. There, competing paramount chiefs (quevis) were supported by their noble relatives (sacos), chiefs subordinated through military force, and honored warriors of commoner status icabras). Chiefs controlled trade routes to acquire for distribution rare, mystical, or awe-inspiring objects from great distances, and further obliged loyalty by allowing supporters access to favored hunting and fishing territories. In summary, competition for high position verticalized relations, with the chief extracting the labor of kinship groups and distributing precious items and perquisites to his supporters. In a parallel case, Anderson (chapter 6) shows that early Mississippian chiefs maintained their positions with scarce goods acquired from networks crisscrossing the entire Eastern Woodlands of North America. The French in the eighteenth century chronicled a social rank rotation between nobles and commoners. Newly elevated nobles supported their positions by redistributing luxury items. However, as competition intensified, and clients were permanently subordinated, rival factions fissioned to new localities. In short, Helms and Anderson argue that internecine competition necessitated power symbols and lucrative perquisites to improve position and not the reverse, as implied in the "trade"

Conclusions

literature. Spurred by intra-community competition, social interchange preceded economic exchange, as emphasized by Clark and Blake, and Redmond. Tensions and transformations within segmentary and unitary states

Close kin of formal leaders embued with ascribed status held together power cores in both segmentary and unitary states. However, the core often bifurcated; two factions asserted privilege premised on genealogy to distinguish themselves from out-groups (see Salisbury and Silverman 1977:8-9). The Mayan, Tarascan, Aztec, and Inka states graduated successively outwards from the royal cores through the less powerful provinces. Specific tactics for garnering power, known from ethnohistory, established inequality based on seniority and descent from the founding ancestor, on controlling productive lands, and on exploiting the labor of subordinated peoples channeled into tributary agricultural and craft production and military service. However, qualitative differences in size and continua of stratification warrant a distinction between less complex segmentary states and more complex unity states. In segmentary states, rivals were more autonomous economically and politically. Coalition building, gift giving, and rituals of alliance, like feasts, figured as prominent strategies for enhancing the standing of one's faction. Although slightly smaller in size, provincial seats often mirrored socially and architecturally the single capital at the political, geographical, and cosmic center of the state. At Utatlan, for example, the Cawek were able to use cosmic symbolism to strengthen alliances with the thirteen calendric peoples of the colonies. The conquering lineages fissioned and settled among outlying folk who supplied tribute, fidelity, and military service. Kinship, whether real or fictive, was the basis for rank and production. The intrusive elite furnished correct pedigree and the autochthons, having intermarried with the intruders, eventually claimed the "noble" genealogy of the founding Feathered Serpent. Paradoxically, egalitarian ideologies prevailed. Competition among rival kin groups resulted in centrifugal segmentation and fission, rebellion and fusion (intermarriage). Since the hierarchy produced little more than "cult" information for alliance building, even the forced linkages were prone to rupture. The Maya, as analyzed by Pohl and Pohl (chapter 13), afford a particularly long developmental history of segmentary political formations during two millennia. Certainly the Venus and sun masks on Late Preclassic

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temples attest to power and alliance intertwined with the calendars. During the ensuing Early Classic, warfare intensified from raiding to pitched battles between neighboring city-states only 40 km apart (e.g., Tikal/Uaxactun, Calakmul/El Mirador). Accordingly, Calakmul was vacated during various episodes of the Early Classic period, while the population of a temporarily defeated Tikal may have been forced out. By the Late Classic, the tributary mode of production had subverted the redistributive economy. Continuous competitive spirals resulted in the growth of the elite among rival polities. Evidently, in each state "vertical" factions linked urban elites with rural supporters, who shored up the hierarchy under stress. The peripheral groups became empowered and "married up," thereby also claiming within a generation or two prerogatives based on genealogy. The Tuldns confederated citystates and rotated authority, so that none rose to ultimate power. As less enfranchised groups grappled for power and privilege, thematic content on the stelae shifted from the genealogies of god-kings to gladiatorial combat and capture. Prestige focused on achieved warrior qualities rather than on ascribed genealogy. And when neighbors were seized, ancestral lineage symbols were desecrated, recalling decapitation of ancestral Olmec statuary. Newly constructed twin radical-pyramids at the edge of Tikal bespeak realignment of newly emerged political groups based on the calendar (Becker 1983). Agriculture intensified, and emphasis on starchy staples increased nutritional deficiencies; the economy degraded the environment. By the Terminal Classic, provincials seized power; some 40 percent of the stelae were erected in small outlying settlements. However, all succumbed to sudden organizational failure and concomitant demographic catastrophe. Within this power vacuum of the collapsed peer polities system (Tainter 1988:202), only scattered lineages migrated to the Yucatan and to the Guatemalan highlands. The Maya demonstrate that unitary states do not evolve from unremitting population growth and heightened competition (cf. Sanders and Price 1968). The Quiche were refugees of the Tuldns who forged triadic alliances, cemented by wife exchange (chapter 14). At first, Utatlan had few rivals, so the political field was notably diminished and investment in hierarchy was less necessary (Tainter 1988:117). Later, pressed into tighter confederation, the Cawek lineage formalized its ranking on a calendrical basis so that Utatlan became a version of a Tuldn. However, Quiche lineages fissioned to the provinces, further duplicating offices of the

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capital. The colonial lineages formed factions with the indigenous elite, recalling the peripheralization of power during the Late Classic. Power diffused among so many centers eventually fragmented the state. The outer rings of the Quiche state came to constitute a separate political field, and much of the outer ring eventually rebelled. Three fairly counterbalanced states became locked into wars of attrition, where just two centuries earlier only the Quiche held sway. Both the Quiche and Tarascan states formed three concentric circles of successively less powerful blocs ritually tied to a capital. Colonization resulted in "ecological symbiosis," and not the reverse (i.e., groups, symbiotically bound together for economic exchange, creating a unitary state). For the Tarascans (chapter 7), centers like Jacana and Xacana in even the most remote concentric ring served as secondary capitals for Tzintzuntzan. The local ethnic elite became "Tarascanized," through intermarriage with the colonists in these centers. In contrast to segmentary states, power within unitary states was centralized within single capitals, supported by powerful judiciary and military institutions. For example, the grandiose pyramids at Teotihuacan seem to reflect coercion of labor for construction, rather than "negotiated" labor for semi-autonomous Mayan lineages. Teotihuacan was also an enormous metropolis ten times larger in population than Utatlan, where perhaps a third of the regional population "forcibly" resided. Teotihuacan's single orientation 15% degrees E of N reflects the union of a more "secular" military faction, associated with the Temple of Quetzalcoatl, the palaces, and the Ciudadela, with a more "ecclesiastical" faction patronized by Tlaloc at the gigantean Sun Pyramid (Millon 1988:10912). However, bespeaking factional bifurcation, Teotihuacan "celebrated the creation of the universe ... through a series of dual oppositions ..." as evident in the two massive pyramids (Millon 1988:112-13). Millon suggests that power passed from an older line of rulers under Tlaloc to a newer group under Quetzalcoatl. In short, mechanical solidarity of Mayan segmentary organization qualitatively differed from the more organic solidarity of Teotihuacan and its economic interdependences. In the latter, lineage and ethnic identities were remolded within social classes, and economic flow was largely centripetal to an enormous capital. Both Teotihuacan and Tenochtitlan were easily several sizes greater than their provincial centers, and had no serious political rivals. Nevertheless, inherently antagonistic interests between the capital and the provinces resulted in transformation. For example, Sanders (1965) suggests that

the provincials at Tula, and perhaps the approximately equidistant Cholula, Cacaxtla, and Xochicalco, may have conspired with factions within the capital itself to sack Teotihuacan, as inequality increased within urban social classes (Millon 1988:149-58). The fiery cataclysm was comparable to the destruction of the symbols of genealogical authority at Olmec San Lorenzo and Mayan Copan; only the ritual core of Teotihuacan was dismantled. Similarly, the Totonacs, Tlaxcalans, and Otomi, as provincial "factions" within or bordering the Aztec empire, readily allied with the Spanish under Cortes to overthrow Tenochtitlan. The Aztecs illustrate the rapid transformation of segmentary lineage alliance by absorbing unitary state institutions long entrenched among their neighbors. The early Aztecs resemble the Quiche in that they (1) migrated from a thinly populated frontier (Aztlan) east, with a stopover at Tuldn; (2) were led by four "big-men" (teomamas), who carried the icons of the patron deities for the lineage groups (calpulltin); (3) married into the Toltec lineage at Culhuacan as mercenaries, who provided their first ruler (tlatoani), as the first Quiche ruler, Cotuja, transferred from the direct Toltec line at Tuja; (4) formed a triadic state (Triple Alliance). Even after the Aztecs became a unitary state, segmentary ordering to the solar calendar persisted; with parallels to Utatlan (1) Tenochtitlan was quadripartitioned and its three causeways led to its closest allies, as the three stairways of the Cawek's temple aligned to the three major lineages; (2) the twin temples housed the tribal solar war god (Huitzilopochtli) and the indigenous rain god (Tlaloc), and the circular Temple of Quetzalcoatl aligned them to the sunrise on the equinoxes (Aveni 1980:246-9), comparable to the temple for the Quiche tribal solar god (Tojil) opposite the indigenous Nijaib god (Awilix), which from the circular temple of the feathered K'ucumatz, aligned respectively to the sunrise and sunset on the equinoxes. The artifact distributions and kinship reckoning delineated by Brumfiel (chapter 8) and Zantwijk (chapter 9) reveal ethnic mutability in provincial towns under Aztec rule (e.g., Otomi Xaltocan). Stratification developed with Aztec scions forging clientage relationships with subordinate Otomi. Hicks (chapter 10) provides a step-by-step reconstruction of how the Aztec established indirect rule by playing one ethnic faction off against another, so that one group of provincials became elevated through direct ties to Tenochtitlan. These chapters demonstrate how ethnic customs were reordered with power relations, rather than persisting as enduring traditions.

Conclusions

The ethnohistories were also reformulated. While the Aztecs, Otomi, and Tarascans all claimed Chichimec ancestry, Brotherston (1974) questions whether the Aztecs fabricated aspects of their migration epic. Certainly, much of the early Aztec history was rewritten under Itzcoatl (1426-40) to legitimize factional control of state institutions. D'Altroy (chapter 15) describes the intense competition among chiefdoms that prompted the meteoric rise of the Inkas to unitary statehood. The Inka came to rule twelve million subjects in a mere century, a clear example of "punctuated evolution." D'Altroy traces the emergence of ruling chinehecona who, like the tribal leaders described by Clark and Blake, Spencer, Redmond, and Helms (chapters 2-5), secured their political prerogatives with the spoils of war. By Wanka II times, endemic warfare forced bifurcated populations to nucleate into elevated defensible locations. There, households of power brokers with attached metalworking functionaries distributed sumptuary goods to supporters. Urbanism in turn intensified cultivation to support more warriors and craftsmen. In contrast to the Mesoamerican states, the Inka thwarted alliances and rebellion among foes by resettling them to the far corners of the realm and maintaining ethnic speech and dress to accentuate provincial status. Core administrators thereby averted the formation of vertical factions linking urban elites and rural producers, as in the Mayan and Aztec states. Unlike the Quiche, outlying garrisons functioned as loyal "puppets" of the state. Nonetheless, bipartite factionalism developed. The last aboriginal stand in 1527 pitted two enormous factions, led by Atawalpa and Wascar, in a bitter civil war to advance one as the god king. This was factionalism writ large, which doomed the Inka polity as it had the bipartite Mayan and Mexican states. Conclusions

The authors in this collection see factional competition as an internal dynamic spurring sociocultural transformation. Unlike the progressive models of the cultural evolutionists or the ecological systemists, we do not offer external agency to explain change, whether linear advance, demise, or reconfiguration. Melding ethnohistory, ethnography, and archaeology, these essays document cases of transformation from endogenous competition. The often cited factors of population growth/ urbanism, hereditary leadership/stratification and ecological symbiosis/trade emerge as consequences of factionalism, not as its preconditions. Indeed, even the

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agricultural base for American civilization transferred from one region to the next along factional linkages. Specific agricultural practices, ecological symbiosis, and population density are all social "effects" of factional competition. This volume examines peoples divided along the lines of kinship, ethnicity, and class. The ranked societies of Panama, Venezuela, Mississippian North American, and Mayan Mesoamerica were transitional between kinordered (segmental) and civil (stratified) society, with both kinship and tributary modes of production. In all of these fields, self-aggrandizers recruited followers to increase power, prestige, and material advantages. In overview, leadership took form from raiding, feasting, and other services abetted by intra- and intervillage gift-giving among counterpoised villages. Leadership crystallized in chiefdoms where the products of kinship production were redistributed through the chief to outlying support and production groups. Lastly, a ruling class with the hegemonic mechanisms of the state appropriated social labor in a tributary mode. People emerge in these case studies as the principal factor of production. More citizens meant more food and craft producers, and more warriors. Urbanism was a political phenomenon; wealth, power, and people were concentrated for intensified manipulation. The Maya, Inkas, and Aztecs were in the business of moving and realigning people to suit the needs of a core group. Nevertheless, even in new territories the processes of factionformation soon aligned functionaries of the core group with their subjects in vertical patron-clientage groupings. Upward mobility was achieved through the conduit of factionalism. In general, since the core group must justify the extraction of surplus labor or face open resistance, ideology and mythology are subject to manipulation by opposing factions. For example, the Maya assigned conquered peoples calendrical identities; therefore, asymmetries in relations of power, authority, and labor were said to be ordained by cosmic design. In this view, the state amalgamated peoples with conflicting interests who vied in subterfuge. Ethnicity, kinship, and class defined the mosaic of overt contending groups; factions cut across them. Consequently, ethnic distinctions began to blur (e.g., the Otomi) as kinship relations transfigured under the tribute demands of a dominant class (e.g., the Aztecs). Factional connections were used to move up socially. Paradoxically, the Inkas rigidified ethnicity for similar reasons. Across the gamut of social formations, two groups generated a social force. In settlement patterning,

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duality is evident among the incipient Olmecs through the Inkas and Aztecs, and was mythologized in the Notes Quetzalcoatl-Tezcatlipoca saga of endemic competition. 1 Mesoamerican ethnohistory describes conflict in Ethnohistory commences in the AD 900s, with the flight greater detail than in other American contexts, and of peoples throughout Mesoamerica who needed charters Mesoamerica connected the Mississippian north with for new political formations and to legitimize inequalities. at least Panama south, defining a macroregional What then was the basis for political action? Allied sphere of interaction. Thus, comparisons are made for peoples nested within wider horizontal or vertical alliregionally distinctive peoples who were linked in ance groups seeking to secure mutual advantages. But social exchange. spoils were divided, and this provided potential for further conflict. New factional relations continuously transformed political structures.

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Author index

Adams, R. McC. 87 Allen, M. 58 Althusser, L. 192, 197-8 Alva Ixtlilxochitl, F. de 90, 92, 111 Alvarado Tezozomoc, H. 109-110, 114 Anales de Cuauhtitlan 96, 113 Anales de Tlatelolco 107 Andagoya, P. de 47, 57-8 Anderson, D. 7, 9, 11,201-2 Bailey, F. 196 Barth, F. 3, 89 Binford, L. 17 Blake, M. and J. E. Clark 74 Blanton, R. 10, 133 Bloch, M. 8 Bourne, E. 64 Brand, D. 80, 82 Brotherston, G. 202, 204 Brumfiel, E. 71, 75, 111, 196, 200-1 Brumfiel, E. and J. Fox 55 Bujra, J. 4 Burgoa, F. de 134 Byland, B. and J. Pohl 200 Carmack, R. 135, 169 Carneiro, R. 33, 44, 56, 59 Carrasco, P. 96-8 Carriedo, J. 134 Chance, J. 134 Chase, D. 156 Chimalpahin, D. 96, 99-100 Cieza de Leon, P. de 49, 119, 176, 189 Clark, J. and M. Blake 6-10, 197, 199, 201-2, 205 Coe, M. 24 Cohen, A. 18 Cohen, G. 193 Costin, C. 177 230

D'Altroy, T. 196, 205 DePratter, C. 64 Donald, L. and D. Mitchell 175 Downs, A. 195 Duran, D. Ill, 114 Earle, T. 12 Elster, J. 193, 197 Enloe, C. 88 Espinoza, G. de 173, 180, 184 Farriss, N. 144 Fernandez Valbuena, J. 164, 166 Flannery, K. and J. Marcus 123, 134 Fox, J. 147 Fried, M. 89 Friedman, J. and M. Rowlands 18 Gay, J. A. 134 Gibson, C. 95-6 Giddens, A. 3 Hally, D. 74 Harman, C. 193^ Harner, M. 52 Hassig, R. 115 Hastorf, C. and T. Earle 174 Hayden, B. and R. Gargett 7 Helms, M. 7, 76, 202, 205 Herrera y Tordesillas, A. de 121 Hicks, F. 197, 204 Hirschman, A. 196 Hodder, I. 89 Hodge, M. 113 Kautsky, K. 191-2, 198 Kowalewski, S. 11, 196, 201 Landa, D. de 141, 150 Lowe, G. 24

Marquardt, W. 67 Marx, K. 8 Maybury-Lewis, D. 33, 35 Millon, R. 204 Morey, N. 43 Murra,J. 179 Nazareo de Xaltocan, P. 100 Nicholas, R. 196 Olivera, M. 114 Orenstein, H. 21 Ortner, S. 3 Oviedo y Valdes, G. 55, 57-8 Parry, W. 127 Patterson, T. 89 Plekhanov, G. 191 Pohl, M. and J. Pohl 7-9, 203 Pollard, H. 196, 200 Popol Vuh 158, 168 Poulantzas, N. 192 Price, B. 7, 175 Proskouriakoff, T. 149 Rabin, E. 119 Redmond, E. 7-9, 196, 202, 205 Relaciones de Yucatan 140-1 Relaciones Geograficas 134 Reyes, A. de los 119 Reyes Garcia, L. 114 Rice, D. 155 Rostworowski de Diez Canseco, M. 173 Roys, R. 141-2 Sahagun, B. de 94, 98 Sahlins, M. 31 Salisbury, R. and M. Silverman 5 Sandbrook, R. 4

Index Sandefur, E. 177 Sanders, W. 204 Sarmiento de Gamboa, P. 180 Schele, L. 166 Shapiro, G. 74 Siegel, B. and A. Beals 4 Smith, Mary E. 119

231

Smith, Michael E. 100 Spencer, C. 5, 7-9, 58-9, 196, 201, 205 Spores, R. 121-2 Stalin, J. 192 Stern, S. 184

Torquemada, J. de 111, 114-15 Werner, D. 30, 34—5 Whitecotton, J. 134 Wright, H. 58

Tocqueville, A. de 117

Zantwijk, R. van 89, 92-4, 196, 200

Subject index

Acacihtli 106 Acamapichtli 105-7, 112 Aculhua 90, 94, 104-5 agent-centered analysis, see subject-centered analysis aggrandizers, see leaders agriculture 28, 30, 40-1, 64, 140, 154-5 adoption of 7, 28-30, 93, 98 extensive 7, 12 intensive 7, 11-12,22-3, 154 Aguateca 148 ah cuch cabs 142-3 Ahuitzotl 105 Ajaw Quiche 159-62, 164-6, 170, 202 alliances 9-10, 19, 36, 59, 65, 70, 111, 115-17, 123, 125-6, 138 140-1, 144, 148-52, 156, 168, 186, 192 building 6, 9-11, 19,40,58, 121, 142, 151 intervillage 5, 52-6 Anales de Tlatelolco 95 ancestral shrines 67-8 Antipa 52 Apirama 47-8 arutam 49, 51-3 assimilation 80-8, 93-4 Atotoztli 108 Axayacatl 105, 108-9, 114 Ayactlacatzin 113 ayllu 173-4, 176, 185-6 Azcapotzalco 106, 112-13 Aztec culture 86-8, 94, 96, 100-16, 124, 197, 200, 204-5 Aztlan 103-4 Barinas38, 134-5, 155 Barra 22-30 barrios 134-6, 155 batabs 142

232

Belize 145-6, 152, 154-5 benjadjwyr 31-5 Bird Jaguar 149-50, 152-3 Bonampak 147, 156 burials 69, 86-7, 146, 151, 178 cabras 36, 46, 50, 53, 55-6, 59, 202 caciques 64, 69, 133^4 cahals 148-9, 152^ Cahokia 68, 72, 74-5 Cakchiquel 168-70 Calusa 67 Canagua Valley 39 Caracol 144-7 Casqui 65, 67, 69 Cauca Valley 44, 46-9 Cawek 159-70 ceramics 11, 17, 22-9, 72^, 86-7, 119, 133, 135, 176, 182-3 Cerro Jazmin 119 Cerro Negro 162 Chalchiuhtlatonac 104 Chalco95, 115-16, 197 Chalman 104 Chantuto 22, 24 Charo-Undameo 8 3 ^ , 86 Chiaha 68-9 Chiapas 11, 17,21,23,29 ChichenltzaHl, 143, 147, 155 Chichimec 81, 93, 96, 104-5, 205 chiefdoms 17-18, 20-1, 29, 36, 44, 51, 54, 56, 59-70, 171, 173, 175, 178, 202^ Mississippian 63-76 Panama 36-7, 59 South-American 44, 46-54, 202 Venezuela 38, 40, 42, 44, 51 Chilam Balam, Books of 142 Chimalpopoca 105-7 Chinampanec 104

Chontalpa 153, 155-6, 161 class stratification 9, 93, 127, 134-6, 174-5, 192, 194 class struggle 3-4, 143, 193-5 Coaixtlahuan 114—15 coalition building, see faction building coalitions 10-11 Cocom Itza 141 Codex Boturini 95 Codex Mendoza 95, 106 Codex Zouche-Nuttal 117-26, 200 Codice Aubin 95 coercion theory 20 Cofitachequi 63-4, 66-7 Colhua95, 101, 103-9 collective action theory 195-7 commoners 8-10, 36, 55, 63, 65, 70, 74,89,91-3, 101, 114-15, 134, 138-41, 144, 153-6 communal labor 11 competition 7-9, 11, 21, 23, 29, 92, 138, 151, 156, 174, 176-7, 182, 193-4, 203 for followers 8, 18-19, 21, 76, 138 for positions 17, 138, 155-6, 173, 180, 183, 202 for resources 7, 57-8, 154, 174 intra-elite 8-9, 29, 65-7, 92 Coosa 63-4, 66 Copan 140, 155, 163,201 Copil 104-6 corporate groups 4-6, 8, 92-3, 127, 174 cosmology 158-70,201 craft specialization 17, 22, 127, 133 Cronica Mexicayotl 112 Cuauhnahuac 108, 115 Cuauhtemoc 105, 108-9 Cuauhtinchan 114

Index Cuauhtitlan 111-14 Cuauhtlatoa 107 Cuauhtlequetzqui 104-6 Cuetlachtzin 112-13 Cuilapan 125, 130, 134 Cuitlahuac 109 cultural ecology 3, 6-7, 12-13, 18, 191, 198,201 curaca 51-3, 67 Curbati 38-9 Cuzco 174, 176, 180 decision-making 44, 51, 59, 63, 79, 85 De Luna expedition 63, 66 De Soto 61-66 disease 7 DosPilas 148, 157 Dyar 74 Dzutsi 33 Ek Balam 148 elites 9-11, 63, 65, 69-71, 74-6, 82, 85-6,88,92, 101, 11^16, 138^1, 143-4, 151-2, 154^6, 173^, 176-8, 182, 184-5 local 10, 57-8, 6 3 ^ , 68, 85-7, 115-16, 152, 178, 182, 186, 197, 204 regional 9, 11, 42-3, 66, 185-6 ethnicity 79-81, 85-96, 101-2, 110, 134-6, 152-3, 196,205 Etowah 75 European contact, see Spanish contact exchange 11, 21, 36, 43, 71-2, 75-6, 88, 125, 182-202, see also long-distance trade faction building 6, 32-3, 41, 202 factional competition 3-12, 32^, 55, 65-6,71,74-6, 107, 112, 117, 12^6, 138, 147, 155, 170-1, 173-4, 176, 178-80, 182-3, 186-7, 191-3, 196-7, 199, 201-3, 205 factions 3-5, 8, 33, 55, 59, 93, 107, 117, 144, 151, 154-8, 171, 178-9, 191, 200, 205 archaeological correlates 10-12, 23-30, 61, 67-9, 72, 74, 174-6, 182 definition 3-4, 191 feasting 5, 10-11, 25, 49, 74, 111, 140-1, 175-7, 182, 203 followings 7, 9, 11,21,33,34 fortifications 11, 36, 48-9, 87, 147, 151 Gavan 38^3 Ghurka syndrome 88 gift-giving 10, 21, 32, 34-5, 37, 64, 73, 111, 174,203 globaba, see tequitlato

glyphs 39, 158-60 Guatemala 153—6 Hutunmarca 176, 182-3 HatunXuaxa 182-3 he'att-5 hierarchies 18, 22-3, 39-51, 46, 51, 55-6, 58-9, 63, 105, 127, 134, 178, 182, 186, 191 Hill of the Wasp, see Yucu Yoco historical materialism 191-3 Huachino 119-25 Huandacareo 86 Huehuetoca 113 Huetamo 84 Huexotla 97-8 Huitzilihuitl 105, 107 Huitzilopochtli 94, 104-5, 202 Hunac Ceel 143 Ilancueitl 106 imperial expansion 111-16, 174, 176, 178-80, 182-3, 186, 197 inheritance, see succession Inka empire 171, 173-4, 176-86, 200 interaction networks 7, 19-20 Iquehuacatzin 108 Itza 141-3, 153 Itzcoatl 105-7, 111-13,205 Ixehuatzin 112 Iximche 169 Jacawitz 160-2, 164-5, 170 Jacona 85, 204 Jalieza 130-2 Jaltepec 117, 121-3, 125 Jeweled Skull 149-51, 154 jewelry, see personal ornamentation Jivaro 44-5, 47-53 Juan Julca Misari 185-6 Junajpu 164-5, 169-70, 202 kakaram 51 katun 143-4, 150-1, 153, 155 Kayapo 31-2 Kimbell panel 151 kinship groups 69-71, 90-3, 103, 128, 134-6, 161, 173, 203^ K'ucumatz 164, 166-70, 200, 204 kuraka 184-5 labrets, see personal ornamentation La Pasadita 147, 149 Lake Patzcuaro Basin 80-1, 88 leaders 4, 7-9, 11, 13, 17-21, 24-5, 28-9,32,46, 56, 58-9, 174 leadership 6, 31, 34-5 requirements 6, 21, 31, 34 Leiden plaque 153 Lienzo de Guevea 124-5 Locona 22, 26-8, 30

233

long-distance trade 6, 36-7, 42, 58, 74, 88 Lord 8 Deer Jaguar Claw 118-19, 122-3, 125-6 Lord 8 Wind Flint Eagle 119, 121-2 Lord 5 Flower 124 Lord 5 Movement 121-2 Lord 9 Wind Stone Skull 119, 121-2 Lord 10 Eagle 121-3 Lord 12 Lizard of Hill of the Wasp 119, 121-2 Lord 2 Rain Twenty Jaguars 121-3 Macuilxochitl 130-1 Malinalxochitl 104-5 Mantaro 171-2, 178, 180-1, 183-4 Marca 182-3 marriages 11, 19, 23, 34, 59, 67, 69-71, 9 3 ^ , 103, 106, 112, 121-3, 150-2, 156, 162 Marxism 3, 12-13, 89, 136, 191-5, 197-8 Matlatzinca 83^4, 86, 94, 114 Maxtla 107 Maya culture 11, 127, 135, 138-70, 200-3 Mayapan 140, 141, 143, 156 Mazatan 17, 22-6, 28-9 Mekranoti 31-6 metals 10, 177-8, 183 Mexica93, 95, 104, 106-7, 111, 114 Mexico Formative 17, 22-33, 120, 127-8, 133, 154 Classic 117, 119-20, 123, 125, 133, 136, 138, 143-4, 147-8, 151-2, 154-6, 158,203 Postclassic 98, 100, 117, 119, 123, 125-7, 133, 135-8, 141^, 152, 154-8, 161, 170 Mexitin 104-6 Michoacan80-1, 86 Mississippian culture 61-76 Mitla 133 Mixquica 95 Mixtec 117, 119-20, 123-6, 133-6, 200 Mokaya 17, 22, 24, 29-30 Monte Alban 119-21, 123-5, 127-31 monumental architecture 11, 64, 75, 133^, 136, 138, 144, 147, 151-2, 155, 159, 163-5, 167,204 Moquihuix 108-9 mortuary treatment 22, 50, 52, 64, 75-6, 146-7, 152 Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina 105, 107-9, 111, 115 Motecuzoma Xocoyotzin 105, 109 mound building 39, 61, 64, 69, 74-5 Moundville 74—5 Napochies 66 Natchez 69-70, 74

234

Index

Nijaib 159-60, 162-5, 168-70, 204 Nochixtlan Valley 118-19 Oaxaca6, 11-12, 119, 121, 123, 125-8, 132-7, 195-6 Ocute 63, 66-7 Otomi 84, 86-90, 92, 94, 96-100, 104, 106, 200, 204-5 Pacaha 65, 67, 69 Pachacutec 179-80 Palenque 150-1 Panama 36, 55-9 Pa'Quiche 168 Pardo expedition 63, 66 patronage 9, 92, 111, 139-43, 153-6 peer polity interaction 19, 117, 203 personal ornamentation 36, 86—7, 97-100, 167 Peten 145-6, 154-5 Piedras Negras 151-2, 156 Popayan 48 population dynamics 7-8, 13, 19, 22, 23,29,74, 154 post-war rituals 49-50 prestige goods 7, 10-11, 36-7, 58-9, 64, 71-3, 75, 82, 88, 125, 146, 154, 167, 173,202 Quetzalcoatl 200-1 ^ v / 3 6 - 7 , 55-9, 202 Quiche 141, 159-70, 199-201, 203-5 Quik'ab 169 Quinatzin 93—4 raids 20, 45-9, 51-2, 154, 196, 202-3 rebellion 5, 63-4, 66-7, 93, 107, 115, 182 Red and White Bundle 119, 121-5 redistribution 22, 64-5, 139, 174-5, 182 regional interaction 7, 20, 40, 42, 52, 85 Relaciones de Yucatan 142 religion 5, 7-8, 75, 86, 97, 144, 155 religious functionaries 58, 142, 155-6 residential mobility 22, 33—1 resource productivity 18-19, 174 resource shortages 6-7, 13 Reyes Etla 132-3 ritual 25-6, 28, 47, 49-50, 94, 140, 144, 152-3, 156, 203 sacos 36, 46, 55-9, 202 Sakic 165-7, 170 San Jose Mogote 11, 127, 132, 135-6 San Lorenzo 202 San Martin Tilcajete 130-1 Sao Domingos 33 settlement patterns 11, 20, 23, 39-41, 53, 55, 74^6, 85, 127-9, 135-6, 158, 175-6, 178,201,205-6

Shavante 32-6 shrines 67 Soconusco 22, 24 Spanish contact 7, 61, 65, 67-8, 82, 109-10, 138, 141^4, 155-6, 170, 173, 180, 183^, 186-7, 204 Spiro 72, 75 states Aztec 90, 94-5, 101, 108-16, 203, 205 Classic Maya 144, 203, 205 Inka 171, 173^, 178-83, 186, 203, 205 Mixtec 119-20, 123-6, 133-6 Oaxaca 127-37 Quiche Maya 158-70, 201, 203-4 Tarascan 79-88, 203-4 Stone Men 119 structures 11, 22, 36, 64, 86, 131-3, 176,178 subject-centered analysis 3-4, 12 subsistence shortages, see resource shortages succession 21, 34-6, 52-3, 63, 67-71, 143, 151, 173, 183, 186 Suchilquitongo 130 surplus 6, 9, 11,43,94, 139 system-centered analysis 12 Tagaya 63 Talimeco 73 Tarascan culture 80-8, 200, 204 Tasculuza 63—4 Taximaroa 84, 88 Tecalco 114 technological development 26, 87, 129 Tecocohuitzin 113 Tenoch 105-6 Tenochtitlan 94, 104-15, 200, 204 Teotihuacan 204 Teozacoalco 124—5 Tepanec 90, 93, 95, 104-9, 111-13 Tepeyacac 111-12, 114 Tequitlato 134 Teuhlehuac 107 Texcoco93, 111-13 Tezcatlipoca 200 Tezozomoc 108 Thupa Yupkani 180 Tikal 144-5, 147-9, 151-2, 155-6, 170,203 Tilantongo 117, 119, 121-3, 125-6 Titles of Ebtun 141 Titulo Yax 159 Tlacaelel 105, 107-9 Tlacopan 110-11 Tlacoten 105-7 Tlalhuica 94 Tlalixtac 131, 133 Tlatelolco 104-9, 113 Tojil 166, 170 Tollan 111-13, see also Tulan

Totecs 93, 96, 103-4, 167, 204 Toluca Valley 98, 114 trade goods 36, 42, 58 European 7 exotic 10, 34, 36-7, 58, 125 trade routes 36, 43, 58, 202 Treaty of Mani 141 tribes 9, 44, 46-54, 89 tribute extraction 9, 64, 67, 113-14, 140, 143, 146, 154, 166 Tuja 162-3, 166, 168-70 Tulan 159, 161, 163, 169-70, 203^, see also Tollan Tunanmarca 10, 176 Tututepec 125 Tzintzuntzan 85-7, 204 Tzutujil 168-70 Uaxactun 144-5, 151-2 Utatlan 159-60, 162^, 166-7, 169-70, 203-4 Uxmal 143, 201 valuables 6, 10-11, 52, see also prestige goods Venezuela 11,37-8 Vitachuco 67 Wamari 33 Wanka 171-8, 180, 182-3, 185-6, 205 warfare 5, 7, 9, 11, 20, 23, 36, 43-54, 57, 58, 65-8, 76, 92, 113, 115, 134, 138, 140-1, 144, 151-2, 154, 156, 168, 174, 178, 180, 196-7, 202-3 War of Heaven 117, 119, 121, 125-6 Wascar 180 WaynaQhapac 180-1 Xacona, see Jacona Xaltemoctzin 113 Xaltocan90, 92, 96-101, 113 Xauxa 173, 182, 185 Xbalanque 164, 170 Xibalba 161, 168-70 Xico 97-8 Xihuitltemoc 107 XipeTotec 124 Xiu 141-3, 153 Xochimilca 95 Xolotl 90 Xoxocotlan 132 yacates 86-7 Yagul 131, 133 Yanomamo 44-5, 47-8, 52-3 Yauyos 173 Yaxchilan 148-54, 156 YucuYoco 119-21 Zaachila 124-6, 132^ Zapotec 120, 123-6, 133-5, 200 Zozoma 112