Geographical Information Systems in Archaeology: Geographical Information Systems in Archaeology

370 American Anthropologist • Vol. 109, No. 2 • June 2007 of the Native American cosmos. These and similar chapters emphasize the point made by the discussant, Chapman, that while North American archaeologists seem loathe to draw on phenomenology, they still employ cultural explanations more frequently than previous generations. I would add that Americanists seem most comfortable with cultural interpretations inspired by Native American ethnographies. This sort of generic, direct-historical approach that pulls widely from Plains and Eastern Woodlands accounts carries its own interpretive baggage and should bear more careful scrutiny than typically seen in the studies in this volume. Lepper is one of the few to sound a cautious note about the problematic aspects of analogy. Aside from earthworks, the term Hopewell evokes exotic objects and there are plenty of first-rate studies of material culture in this volume. Two chapters serve as useful illustrations of the extremes in analytical perspectives. Richard Hughes’s geochemical update on the origins of the obsidian imported throughout the midcontinent clearly makes the case that there was at least one additional major source (in Idaho) in addition to the well-known Yellowstone one. While this may undermine James Griffin’s well-known “one shot” hypothesis (that all of the Hopewell obsidian could have been brought to Ohio in one major trading expedition), it does not rule out a two-shot scenario. Robert Hall’s more interpretive study of a well-known copper cutout underscores the ambiguities of anthropomorphic and zoomorphic depictions in Hopewell artworks, and the multiple meanings embedded in them. His identification of a possible caiman in this and another piece is a tantalizing (if less than completely convincing) hint of connections far down the Gulf Coast. The sociopolitical implications of Hopewellian exotica also receive their due emphasis. As Chapman observes, we are still a long way from determining how local practices fostered panregional patterning as manifested by the Hopewell interaction sphere. Nevertheless, powerful chiefs qua trade middlemen have now largely been supplanted by shamanic specialists (James Brown) and alternative forms of leadership in Middle Woodland models. Scholars are obviously still trying to reconcile the nature of power that can account for such grandiose earthworks, extensive exchange networks, and abundance of exquisitely crafted items. At the very least, however, there does seem to be a growing consensus that positions of authority were vested more with ritual and symbolic qualities, with only tenuous reins on outright domination, rather like department chairs. In the “plus ça change” category, several chapters invoke migration as a major reason for the appearance of Middle Woodland traits. Yet the sense one gets from these readings is that population movement was a contingent process, not an overarching explanation. Migration apparently took place in some regions whereas in-situ developments linked to exchange occurred elsewhere. This provides a healthy balance to the complexity of interactions that likely constituted what we recognize as the Hopewell phenomenon. Nevertheless, detailed methodological studies by the likes of James Stoltman (ceramics) and Julie Zimmerman Holt (faunal remains) emphasize that precise stratigraphic research, taphonomic studies, and related work remain a cornerstone of addressing these larger questions. In his overview, Smith rightly stresses that a variety of baseline issues, ranging from chronology to artifact typologies, continue to hamper comparisons between sites. It cannot be said that Recreating Hopewell is a tightly focused, thematic volume, nor did the editors have that intent. Instead, this is a wide-ranging collection of geographic regions, methodological approaches, and theoretical perspectives. Like the Chillicothe volume before it, I suspect we will come to view the book as a horizon marker for stateof-the-art research for years to come. REFERENCE CITED Brose, D. S., and N. B. Greber, eds. 1979 Hopewell Archaeology: The Chillicothe Conference. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press. Geographical Information Systems in Archaeology. James Conolly and Mark Lake. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. 326 pp. THOMAS PLUCKHAHN University of South Florida It is undoubtedly a positive sign that the spate of articles and edited volumes in the late 1980s and 1990s combining the terms archaeology and geographical information systems (GIS) in their titles has slowed in recent years to a trickle. This is of course not a signal that archaeologists have become disillusioned with GIS, far from it; the absence of these titles signals that GIS has become such a standard tool among archaeologists that it no longer merits mentioning except where the applications are truly new or novel. As one colleague recently put it to me, “Talking about using GIS to do archaeology today is like talking about doing archaeology with a trowel” (Mark Williams, personal communication, January 10, 2007). Another welcome development is the recent appearance of several manuals for the use of GIS in archaeology. The appearance of these general texts suggests that the use of GIS in archaeology has reached sufficient maturity and sophistication that a standardized methodology has emerged. The simply titled Geographical Systems in Archaeology, by James Conolly and Mark Lane, is the latest and arguably the best of these recent manuals. Conolly and Lake begin their manual with a brief introduction to GIS and the theoretical issues associated with its application. Weighing in at just ten pages (much of which is devoted to issues of organization), this chapter would have benefited from further development. Two subsequent introductory chapters describing basic principles of GIS and cartography (ch. 2) and an overview of the use of GIS in archaeology (ch. 3) help fill in the gaps. The core of the methodological discussion begins with chapter 4, which discusses the design of a geodatabase. Single Reviews Chapter 5 takes up the methods of spatial data acquisition, and chapter 6 describes the manipulation of such datasets to build surface models through interpolation. These chapters will be easily read by the nonspecialist and specialist alike. Perhaps the greatest strength of this volume over other manuals for GIS in archaeology is the discussion of data analysis and manipulation. Chapter 7 begins this discussion by first considering basic spatial and attribute queries and then turning to a consideration of statistical techniques for the recognition of patterning in spatial data. Given the complexity of the latter topic, the coverage was surprisingly easy to follow (the reader is often directed elsewhere for more detailed information). Chapter 8 continues this thread, examining more advanced techniques of spatial analysis, including some tried-and-true (or not-so-true, as the case may be) like Moran’s I or nearest neighbor, as well as some newer techniques that have seen only limited application in archaeology, such as Ripley’s K . Here the discussion becomes more dense, but the authors make an admirable attempt to explain the mechanics—as well as well as the pitfalls and potential benefits—of these techniques in clear language. I was, however, disappointed with the too-brief treatment of the use of GIS for predictive modeling in archaeology. The discussion of data analysis continues with chapter 9 (map algebra), chapter 10 (the analysis of regions, including territories, catchments, and viewsheds), and chapter 11 (routes, networks, cost paths, and hydrology).The final two chapters turn back to more general themes. Chapter 12 provides an overview of map design and digital cartography, while chapter 13 discusses the maintenance of spatial data. As I considered how this volume would function as a textbook, I found myself wishing that these chapters had been developed further. As it is, the discussion of map design is probably too brief to function effectively without a supplemental reference. Nevertheless, Conolly and Lake deserve credit for including an overview of basic cartographic principles, a topic not covered in many GIS handbooks. The inclusion of a glossary at the end of the book is also helpful. The obvious standard for comparison for this volume is Spatial Technology and Archaeology: The Archaeological Applications of GIS, by David Wheatley and Mark Gillings (2002). Which is better? Wheatley and Gillings’s text is probably more easily read by the nonspecialist. It also provides more general background information on the history of GIS in archaeology, the use of GIS for archaeological predictive modeling, and future directions such as Temporal GIS. However, Conolly and Lake are more thorough in their discussions of data analysis, which will make their tome more useful as a reference. Anyone with a serious—or even moderate— interest in archaeological applications of GIS will no doubt want to make space for Conolly and Lake’s manual on their bookshelf. REFERENCE CITED Wheatley, David, and Mark Gillings 2002 Spatial Technology and Archaeology: The Archaeological Applications of GIS. New York: Taylor and Francis. 371 Holistic Darwinism: Synergy, Cybernetics and the Bioeconomics of Evolution. Peter A. Corning. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. 546 pp. J E F F R E Y H . S C H WA RT Z University of Pittsburgh When Charles Darwin first published On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection (1859), he focused on natural selection as both the preserver of desirable variations and the source of variation (see Schwartz 1999). In an early review of this work, Thomas Huxley (1860) criticized Darwin on virtually all counts, especially Darwin’s rejection of saltationism to explain the origin of species (“natura non facit saltum”), which Huxley espoused. Subsequently, the engineer Fleeming Jenkin (1867) pointed out that any new trait would be swamped and eliminated as the vast majority of individuals without it continued to reproduce. Jenkin’s objection made sense in terms of a model of blending inheritance, which, in ignorance of Gregor Mendel’s experiments, most scientists, including Darwin, embraced. Jenkin’s effect on Darwin was enormous. “Fleeming Jenkins [sic] has given me much trouble, but has been of more real use to me than any other essay or review” (Darwin, letter to the botanist Joseph Hooker, January 16, 1869). And in The Descent of Man Darwin wrote: “In the earlier editions of my ‘Origin of Species’ I perhaps attributed too much to the action of natural selection or the survival of the fittest. I have altered the fifth edition of the ‘Origin’ so as to confine my remarks to adaptive changes of structure” (1871:438). These “adaptive changes of structure” resulted from the notion that an organism’s desires can engender change through use or disuse (i.e., how an organism behaves can produce change that can be passed on to offspring). Although Darwin always believed in this scenario, he became more reliant on it after Jenkin’s review, and he incorporated it into his theory of blending inheritance, “pangenesis” (Darwin 1868). This aspect of Darwin’s intellectual history is not well known, largely because when the founders of the evolutionary synthesis melded Darwinism and Mendelism and sought to tidy up Darwin’s image, they needed someone to blame for promoting use–disuse ideas. And that someone was Jean Baptiste, Chevalier de Lamarck (Burkhardt 1977). Subsequently, the overt language of Lamarckianism was expunged from neo-Darwinian discourse, although the intent was not (witness phrases such as “a feature evolved in order to, . . . for the purpose of, or because of”; see Schwartz 2001). Enter Peter Corning, director of the nonprofit Institute for the Study of Complex Systems, who proposes a theory of “holistic Darwinism” that derives from his earlier published “synergistic hypothesis.” This hypothesis is a bioeconomic theory of complexity, which, he complains, was ignored. Corning’s premise is that the two fundamental problems all organisms face are survival and reproduction—which eliminates bacteria from consideration. He embraces the legacy of John Maynard Smith by arguing that there is a