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Contents
List of Illustrations
ix
introduction: speaking the same language?
Joshua D. Englehardt and Ivy A. Rieger
3
1. research Collaboration in Mesoamerica and the Pueblo
southwest
Vincent M. LaMotta and John Monaghan
29
2. “it seemed like a Good idea at the time”: the fate of
Cultural Evolution in Cultural Anthropology
Paul Shankman
45
3. ontology Matters in Archaeology and Anthropology:
People, things, and Posthumanism
Fredrik Fahlander
69
4. Ethnographic stratigraphies: Mapping Practical Exchanges
between Cultural Anthropology and Archaeology
Ivy A. Rieger
87
vii
ContEnts
5. Archaeological Boundaries and Anthropological
frontiers: A view from south of the Border
Joshua D. Englehardt
103
6. tribes—Chimeras or Chameleons? Kinship, Marriage,
Gender, and Hierarchy in Archaeological theory and
nuer Ethnography
Joseph R. Hellweg
129
7. the Ancestral stew Pot: Culinary Practices at a
Contemporary yucatecan village
Lilia Fernández Souza
153
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viii
8. filling in the Blanks: Archaeology, Ethnography, and the
Aj Pop B’atz’ Project
Ashley Kistler
181
9. the interface between Anthropology and Archaeology:
A view from Ancient Greece
David B. Small
203
10. Given a Choice: integrating Approaches to Choice and
Wellbeing in Present and Past societies
Kent Fowler and Derek Johnson
227
Conclusions: Anthropological Pasts and futures
Donna M. Goldstein
253
Conclusions: Anthropology, Archaeology, and the
legacy of franz Boas; or, “Hello, My name is Bill, i am an
Anthropologist. no wait. i am an Archaeologist. no. Wait . . .”
William A. Parkinson
269
List of Contributors
Index
291
287
Introduction
Speaking the Same Language?
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Joshua D. Englehardt and Ivy A. Rieger
This volume presents a critical evaluation of an issue seemingly ever present in
Americanist anthropology: the relationship between cultural anthropology and
archaeology. in the 70 years since Philip Phillips’s (1955:246–247) famous axiom
“[new World] archaeology is anthropology or it is nothing,” anthropologists have
questioned whether archaeology truly is part of anthropology.1 today, few anthropologists of any geographical or subdisciplinary background would deny that there
exist key differences between the theoretical trajectories, discourses, research foci,
funding options, conferences, writing styles, analytical techniques, and field methods in each anthropological subfield. We agree with those who argue that such diversity is a positive attribute that can lead to new and innovative forms of scholarly contributions and collaborations (e.g., Earle 2003; Gillespie et al. 2003). nonetheless,
we have discovered through practical experience—as have many colleagues—that
this diversity can also lead to miscommunication, feelings of alienation, and, in the
most extreme cases, a rigid separation of anthropologists and their subdisciplines
from one other due to feeling that they no longer have anything in common.
in short, many wonder not only if archaeologists and cultural anthropologists
can—or should—productively collaborate, or if we belong in the same academic
departments or discipline as a whole, but also if we are even capable of speaking
a common language, and if engaging in mutually intelligible discourse is a goal
for which all anthropologists should strive. rather than repackaging the “sacred
bundle,” as segal and yanagisako (2005) termed it, or calling for the resurgence of a
Doi: 10.5876/9781607325420.c000
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holistic anthropological ideal steeped in feelings of Boasian nostalgia, the chapters
of this volume instead explore the following questions: What are the benefits of
speaking the same language? How can a renewed emphasis on subdisciplinary dialogue and collaboration benefit anthropology as a whole as it is currently practiced
in the twenty-first century?
to establish the basic parameters for this discussion, we depart from the broad
definition of anthropology offered by the American Anthropological Association
(AAA): “the study of humans, past and present.” The AAA defines cultural anthropology as the examination of “social patterns and practices across cultures, with
a special interest in how people live in particular places and how they organize,
govern, and create meaning.” Archaeology, as defined by the society for American
Anthropology (sAA) is “the study of the ancient and recent human past through
material remains.”2 nuancing these definitions—or reading between the lines—
reveals a common focus on culture that is at the heart of our discipline (flannery
1982; Watson 1995). Understanding the distinct yet interrelated aspects of human
culture is thus the ultimate goal of each anthropological subdiscipline—this is what
anthropologists should, and do, study. in this sense, the roles, goals, and foci of
anthropology’s four primary subfields complement and weave back into each other,
forming a complex disciplinary whole that is greater than the sum of its individual
parts. from this perspective, and following the definitions above, each subfield is
part of anthropology, just as anthropology as a whole is formed by its subdisciplines.
Anthropological subfields thus need each other to provide meaning and relevance
to the discipline itself, as well as to contextualize the work of researchers in its subfields. if one rejects this premise, then anthropology truly is nothing more than a
“dubious,” made-up discipline, as Wallerstein (2003) suggested.
of course, these assertions are debatable, and have been the subject of much
previous scholarship (e.g., Anderson 2003; Barfield 2003; Borofsky 2002; Clifford
2005; Earle 2003; Gillespie et al. 2003; longacre 2010; nichols et al. 2003; smith
2010, 2011; sugandhi 2009; Wiseman 1980a, 1980b, 2002). indeed, the practical
reality of how the anthropological subdisciplines interact with one another is much
different than that suggested by idealistic pronouncements of holism or its benefits.
still others may question whether a palpable division between anthropological subdisciplines really exists, and if so, if we as anthropologists—or the public in general—should even care. in addition to the fundamental questions outlined above,
each chapter in this volume seeks to address these critical issues. Although perspectives may differ, all of the chapters here share an interest in highlighting commonality, tangibly demonstrating the benefits of collaboration between cultural anthropologists and archaeologists, and rekindling an intradisciplinary dialogue that has
lately grown sterile.
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sympToms oF DIsCIplInary malaIse
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in recent years, some scholars have argued that archaeological aspirations to objectivity ill suit the field to the postmodern subjectivity espoused by some cultural anthropologists, who (arguably) appear to hold that “science” is only one of many ways to
understand empirically observable facts (Dreger 2010). others have suggested that
although anthropology needs archaeology, archaeology does not necessarily “need”
anthropology, and that it is high time to end the hierarchical relationship in which
archaeological data are subordinated to anthropological theory derived from ethnographic accounts (smith 2010, 2011; Wiseman 1980b, 2001). still others—ourselves included (e.g., Hepp and Englehardt 2011)—have wondered if archaeologists
and cultural anthropologists are even capable of speaking the same language at all,
given the immense differences in our recent historical trajectories. Meanwhile, both
anthropologists and archaeologists have grown increasingly out of touch with the
general public, often abbreviating the immeasurable educative value of highlighting
the relevance of anthropological research to a broader, nonacademic audience.3
We first began to critically question subdisciplinary divisions at the 2009 AAA
meetings in Philadelphia. At that conference, which inspired the concept for this
volume, the editors attended a session together during which one of the presenters
began his talk with the following observation: “the vast uncertainty of post-fordist
employment matrices has created a nostalgic melancholy for the futurity of the past
conditional.” neither of us was sure what he was talking about, and the remainder
of the talk offered little clarification. By the end of this session, we were unsure as to
how any of the arcane conclusions presented could contribute to our discipline as
a whole or to our own research. in short, we felt as if the presenter had made little
effort to place his research in a context of mutually beneficial intelligibility that did
not exclude nonspecialists.
our discomfort was heightened at the 2010 AAA meetings in new orleans.
During that conference, prominent themes for panels and presentations included
“circulation,” “education,” and “migration,” apparently a selection of the “hot topics” of that time. A less-charitable reading of these conference themes might suggest, however, that we had failed in our independent quests for anthropological
relevance if we did not explicitly focus on these issues. We began to critically question the audience to whom the AAA meetings were actually marketed and which
perspectives were actively represented. Every subfield except cultural anthropology,
for example, is grossly underrepresented at what is supposedly a national meeting
of all anthropologists, a lamentable reality that negatively affects potential opportunities for collaboration between the subdisciplines. Although the themes of the
AAA meetings change yearly, the predominance of cultural anthropology is overwhelming, creating an atmosphere of exclusion for other subdisciplines or those
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cultural anthropologists whose scholarship does not directly relate to the themes
of the meeting.
in new orleans, a linguistic anthropologist colleague remarked that the constant
relegation of linguistics to the figurative basement of anthropological inquiry was
the precise reason for which members of that subdiscipline “broke off and started
having [their] own meeting.” several archaeologists noted that they “did not feel
welcome,” “couldn’t find many (or any) sessions of interest to them,” and felt that
the meeting environment was “stuck up” or “stiff.” others commented that they
greatly preferred the sAA annual meeting, where the environment was, in their
opinion, more welcoming and jovial, and the sessions presented were more relevant
to their own research. However, one could just as easily argue that the sAA meetings are similarly exclusionary, privileging archaeology over other subfields. These
comments suggested to us that there was a distinct possibility that we, as anthropologists, were unconsciously fracturing our discipline because we inherently felt
more comfortable among our “own kind.”
of course, we are not the first to notice such disquieting trends in our discipline.
robert Borofsky (2002) conducted an extensive literature review of 100 years of
American Anthropologist (the AAA flagship publication) in an attempt to determine whether disciplinary holism has been actively promoted by contributors to
that journal. His analysis revealed that, despite being espoused by the AAA, the
concept of holism was a myth, insofar as only 9.5 percent of the articles (311 of 3,264)
used intradisciplinary data or methods in any significant way (Borofsky 2002:463).
similarly, in their introductory chapter to Unwrapping the Sacred Bundle, segal and
yanagisako (2005:11) asked cultural anthropologists “when was the last time that
research on hominid evolution or primates was helpful to you in thinking about
your ethnographic data?” The very need to ask the question itself suggested that
the concept of holism represented a shallow philosophy that many American scholars preach, but few, if any, follow. Borofsky (2002:472) concluded that part of the
contradiction inherent in modern anthropological discourse resided in the fact
that anthropologists tend toward specialization at the same time as we aspire to be
an intellectually holistic discipline. laura nader (2001:610) noted that oscillation
between the contradictory tendencies of evident fragmentation and avowed holism
had led to a disciplinary identity crisis: “with increasing specialization we divide
and subdivide and still call it anthropology.” innumerable scholars have weighed in
on the issue (e.g., Clark 2003; Earle 2003; fox 2003; Gillespie 2004; Gillespie et al.
2003; Gosden 1999; Kuper and Marks 2011; Peirano 1998, to list but a few), and yet
we are no closer to resolving the impasse.
Anthropology at large seems torn by the issue of the placement and articulation
of its four appendages, and it appears that the “sacred bundle” as it stands in 2017
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has not so much been unwrapped as it has been split apart, its various components
forcibly extracted and separated from one another. intensive specialization within
and between the subfields has provided fuel for serious discussions regarding
whether the proliferation of diversity represents the “doomsday march” of anthropology, or a more general maturing of the discipline (Chrisman 2002; Clarke 1973).
too frequently, it appears that anthropologists of all stripes are simply not engaging
in a common dialogue—whether by conscious choice or lack of training—despite
overlapping subject matter, a significant quantity of shared method and theory,
and a common history (flannery 1982; Gosden 1999:9; Watson 1995). Although
we recognize the variable and shifting nature of the historical relationship between
cultural anthropology and archaeology, as well as a great degree of mutual feedback that has affected both subdisciplines (and, by extension, anthropology as a
whole), never before has our discipline been as polarized as it now appears. in short,
it appears that anthropologists are simply not speaking a common language.
poTenTIal Causes oF DIsCIplInary DrIFT
in a previous publication on precisely this issue (Hepp and Englehardt 2011),
we identified two major trends that appear to underlie this growing rift within
American anthropology. The first trend involves the applications and misapplications of postmodern theoretical discourse in the discipline. The second trend
involves the debate regarding the place of the concept of “science” in anthropology.4 to many archaeologists, cultural anthropology has become so infused with
postmodern thought as to become nearly unintelligible and impossible to apply
in archaeological research, as evidenced by our confusing experience during the
panel on “Post-fordist Affect” at the 2009 AAA meetings. We do not suggest that
archaeologists cannot or do not successfully integrate the postmodern critique into
their research. However, the specific misapplication of postmodern social theories
to archaeological contexts for the sake of being “on-trend” can result in a dangerous
game of obfuscation that damages both the production of archaeological knowledge and the scientific replication of research results. Although postmodernist
approaches to sociocultural analyses encourage archaeological and ethnographic
researchers to move beyond strict positivism and engage systems of meaning in
ways that can be useful to anthropological research, too often such perspectives are
couched in an incomprehensible quagmire of jargon and espouse a methodological
relativism that many find overly subjective, antiscientific, and inappropriate for the
discipline at large.
The second trend is almost the inverse of the first: gravitation toward rigid
empiricism and positivistic models on the part of archaeologists; “archaeology with
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a capital ‘s’ ” (flannery 1973). While new theories and methods developed outside
of anthropology have great potential to advance the discipline, archaeologists, in
their zeal to be considered “hard scientists” and to “quantify” culture, may fall
into the same patterns of inappropriate borrowing, misapplication of fashionable
techniques to anthropological questions, and the employment of the same sort of
pseudo-technical jargon that they find so distasteful in some cultural anthropological discourse. to wit, when theory or method from any school of thought inappropriately infiltrates anthropology, it has the potential to reinforce barriers among the
anthropological subdisciplines because of inherent disagreement from camps on
both sides as to how, or if, such concepts should be used.
of course, we do not suggest that interdisciplinary exchange is necessarily objectionable—indeed, many productive advances have resulted from such cooperation.
When, however, we indiscriminately apply trendy new theories or methods without
regard to either the context of their development or their applicability to strictly
anthropological inquiry, we do our discipline a disservice by disguising poor arguments—founded on metaphor or analogy rather than actual evidence—with the
bells and whistles of sexy formulae and unfounded conjecture. inappropriate borrowing from any paradigm results in alienation from the interlocutors, subjects, and
objects of our studies. Worse still, it divides us from the very colleagues who, by
virtue of a shared subject matter and history, may be in the best position to assist in
reframing new approaches for broader anthropological application.
Both trends belie a fundamental discord in the conceptualization of anthropology as (either) a scientific or a humanistic discipline that is perhaps also related to
subdisciplinary alienation. The aforementioned controversy surrounding the inclusion of the word science in the AAA mission statement derived from a decision to
remove the word “because the board sought to include anthropologists who do
not locate their work within the sciences, as well as those who do.”5 leaving aside
the logical conclusion that omitting the word would seem to exclude—rather than
include—those anthropologists who consider themselves “scientists,” the decision
immediately angered a large number of archaeologists and physical anthropologists,
who traditionally consider their subdisciplines to be overtly scientific in nature
(see, e.g., flannery 1973; smith et al. 2012; cf. http://www.unl.edu/rhames/AAA
/AAA-lrP.pdf, accessed June 11, 2013). outside observers quickly noted that the
issue of “science” has consistently proven a source of division within anthropology,
suggesting that the debate is among the reasons that so few archaeologists, linguistic
anthropologists, or physical anthropologists attend the AAA meetings: “they go
and meet with their own actual disciplinary types . . . so that the real scientists don’t
have to deal too much with the fluff-head sociocultural anthropological types who
think science is just another way of knowing” (Dreger 2010). The varied sentiments
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of professionals inside and outside of anthropology regarding the status of the term
science reveals the presence of a tense debate regarding attempts to reconcile differences that have emerged as an apparent result of the inherent diversity present in
the field.
A detailed treatment of the conceptual debates regarding the categories of “science” and “humanities”—and anthropology’s (or any of its subdiscipline’s) place
within or between one or the other—could fill entire volumes. Although some of
the chapters in this volume do address the issue, exploring these categories is not a
fundamental aim of this collection. nonetheless, it bears mention here that regardless of where one’s inclinations lie, such conceptual diversity should not preclude
dialogue or collaboration among anthropologists of all stripes. in fact, we would
argue that the unique disciplinary situation of anthropology, spanning both the
natural and social sciences—or, if one prefers, the sciences and the humanities—
is one of its main strengths, and offers anthropologists a variety of opportunities
and practical benefits.6 Anthropology’s focus on human culture opens itself to any
number of scientific or humanistic approaches. Polarization and gravitation toward
extremes, however, erodes that strength. instead, it may result in disciplinary anomie and attempts to pigeonhole ourselves (and our colleagues) as either “scientists”
or “humanists.”
to these proximate causes of disciplinary drift we also add the role of academic
structure, administration, and subject matter in creating disciplinary divisions.
Budgetary and administrative concerns, student interest, and differing perspectives
on the goals and objects of anthropological study have resulted in, for example, the
merging of anthropology and sociology departments (e.g., lehigh University), the
differential classification of anthropology courses as either “sciences” or “humanities” (e.g., florida state University), the separation of cultural anthropologists and
archaeologists in distinct academic units (e.g., Boston University), the creation
of new academic units (e.g., the school of Human Evolution and social Change
at Arizona state University), the lack of truly “four-field” departments, and, in
extreme cases, the closure of anthropology departments as a whole.7
We should clarify that the nature of our disciplinary rift is complex, and the potential contributing factors outlined above are not intended to serve as an exhaustive
list of the problems we confront. The difficulties we face are multifaceted phenomena. increased specialization, departmental or administrative organization, acrimonious debate, and a general absence of productive dialogue all currently contribute
to a heightened sense of alienation felt among many members of all anthropological
subdisciplines. nor do we consider these issues questions of “blame” that can be
easily attributed to the misapplication of one particular viewpoint or theoretical
position, or the decisions of academic administrators. Anthropologists must also
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recognize the role that we ourselves play—tacitly or otherwise—in current disciplinary malaise. such recognition can only come from critical evaluation and dialogue, such as that offered by this volume. in the end, archaeology and cultural
anthropology have critiqued one another for nearly a century; recent crises may
therefore stem from shifting relationships and changing practitioners rather than
a fundamental discord between anthropological subdisciplines. nevertheless, the
question remains: what does recent and arguably more pronounced subdisciplinary
polarization mean for the future of anthropology as a whole? This is a far more
cogent query than any sort of theoretical navel-gazing, blame-shifting, or alarmist
cries that the sky is falling.
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praCTICal ConsequenCes anD TopICal relevanCe
subdisciplinary polarization has recently resulted in calls for the disarticulation
of a holistic anthropology, most of which involve the separation of archaeology
(e.g., smith 2010, 2011; Wiseman 1980a, 1980b, 2001, 2002). following Wallerstein
(2003:453), these scholars argue that the “social construction of the disciplines as
intellectual arenas . . . has outlived its usefulness and is today a major obstacle to
serious intellectual work.” Anthropology, it is argued, is not the most productive
intellectual context for archaeology, and currently serves to limit the scope and efficacy of archaeological research. Archaeology, in other words, simply does not “fit
well within anthropology” (Gillespie 2004:13). in addition, diversity and specialization within anthropology “increases the distance between disciplines of inquiry
as the techniques and theories that are developed at the advancing edges of fields
become ever more remote from their common roots” (Brenneis and Ellison 2009).
Has our common study of human cultural experience become so broad that hyperspecialization is necessary to make meaningful contributions to research, thus leaving no time for holism?
in addition to these intellectual arguments, there exist more aggressive perspectives that, although obviously not universally shared, nonetheless influence the trajectory of the discipline as a whole. some cultural anthropologists have implicitly
dismissed archaeology and physical anthropology as “dimly related hangers-on,”
while others have noted that archaeologists are “irrelevant” and “have nothing to
offer the discipline as a whole.” Conversely, some archaeologists have suggested that
anthropology is a “parochial discipline” that severely limits the intellectual horizons
of archaeology and that cultural anthropologists are consciously alienating archaeologists and attempting to “drive them out” of the discipline (Morgan 2011; http://
publishingarchaeology.blogspot.mx/2011/01/american-anthropologist-impliesthat.html, accessed July 12, 2013).8 The mere existence of both the debate itself and
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such drastic perspectives of dissent strongly suggest a growing barrier between subdisciplines that, for some, is becoming too high to scale. one may think that such
dry and abstract arguments are contained solely to infighting within the discipline.
We would argue, however, that disciplinary polarization (real or imagined) carries
several practical consequences that are both cause and effect of a growing divide.
As detailed above, for example, anthropology departments are being fundamentally reorganized or unceremoniously shut down. This issue is a personal one for
the editors—and two contributors to this volume—insofar as we were students
or professors at florida state University when the department was, for all intents
and purposes, forcibly disintegrated in 2009. Although departmental or subdisciplinary infighting was not the only—or primary—cause of this (and other) cases
of reorganization or closure, it certainly played a factor, as revealed in emails
sent by university administrators.9 This case even became politicized outside the
boundaries of academia, when florida Governor rick scott declared that training
anthropologists is not a “vital interest of the state.”10 in this instance, the failure of
anthropologists to demonstrate the value and relevance of our discipline—among
other factors—contributed to the administrative decisions made by the university.
subdisciplinary division severely limits our ability to present a unified front and
tangibly demonstrate disciplinary relevance in response to such critiques. in short,
it makes administrative decisions such as this one that much easier.
A less-drastic consequence of disciplinary fragmentation is the fact that fourfield training across all subfields is decreasingly integrated in educational curricula
at both the graduate and undergraduate levels (Anderson 2000; Gillespie 2003,
2004).11 Echoing Borofsky’s (2002) findings regarding the holism avowed, but not
reflected, in American Anthropologist, segal and yanagisako (2005:6) noted that,
despite a nominal commitment to the four-field model in syllabi and course materials, the perceived sense of unity encouraged in such courses is rarely reiterated in
actual practice: “students are likely to be socialized into some minimal, yet sturdy,
acceptance of the orthodox status of the four-field model.” This model of unity is
therefore couched in the terms of a normative status quo, in which individual scholars make a “hollow pledge of allegiance” to holism that may or may not represent an
actual intellectual commitment (fox 2003:151).
Meanwhile, public interest in the discipline has ebbed, and what little attention
it does receive is due primarily to controversies, departmental closures, infighting,
and the like. furthermore, the majority of public knowledge about ethnographic
and archaeological research comes not from peer-reviewed journals, books, or conference presentations, but from cable television channel programs, subscriptions to
National Geographic, and the occasional syndicated newspaper or online news article. The public face our discipline presents is one of near-constant crisis, a seemingly
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arrogant disinterest in engaging with laypeople, and petty squabbling over esoteric
issues of minimal relevance to a general audience (nader 2001:617; sugandhi 2009).
These lapses in dialogue with the public and between anthropological subdisciplines can and do create dangerous schisms that may result in permanent separation
and, at worst, a dissolution of academic departments and a departure from public
interaction altogether.
shoulD We Care? or, anoTher volume on ThIs agaIn . . . ?
We recognize that the divisions and potential consequences discussed above may
not be as dire as some may believe. variability in the historical relationships of critique between cultural anthropology and archaeology may have simply resulted in
the illusion of recent intradisciplinary discord. Alternately, it may simply be that
such tension (or “crisis”) is the rule rather than the exception in our discipline.12
Moreover, we are cognizant of the fact that our own experiences may have negatively impacted our assessment of the situation. finally, we are acutely aware of
the fact that this volume is not the first to address this topic: it may be argued
that the issue has received sufficient attention in previous treatments dating back
decades (e.g., Brenneis and Ellison 2009; Clifford 2005; flannery 1982; Gosden
1999; nichols et al. 2003; Peirano 1998; Phillips 1955). What, then, is the benefit or
contribution of yet another volume on this topic?
to these potential critiques we would respond first that the very fact that we are
not the first to notice or critically question these issues is in itself evidence of their
continued relevance. The presence of the debate itself suggests that the relationship
between cultural anthropology as archaeology is as muddled—or uneasy—today
as it was in 1955. This is a debate that has not been conclusively settled, and the
fact that the issue has received extensive previous treatment does not imply that
we should avoid what many consider to be the elephant in the room. The nature of
academic inquiry necessitates revisiting and reevaluating the positions taken and
conclusions reached by previous scholars.
further, although differences of opinion between anthropologists as to the nature,
extent, and potential impact of disciplinary fragmentation certainly do exist, it is
evident that anthropology finds itself in a troubling position—in terms of departmental reorganization, loss of touch with the public, and a fight to demonstrate its
continued relevancy to policymakers and academic administrators. Anthropologists
of all stripes should—and do—care about such a lamentable situation and what it
holds for the future of our discipline. We recognize historical variability in subdisciplinary relationships, as well as a multiplicity of causes, effects, and degrees of disciplinary division. Understanding and addressing these complex phenomena, however,
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can only be achieved through more careful and critical comparisons, such as those
offered in this volume. At the risk of hyperbole, if we fail to address—or revisit—
these issues, anthropology runs the risk of falling into a vicious circle that perpetuates the fight for relevancy in which we currently find ourselves.
movIng ForWarD . . . ?
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opinions remain mixed on the issue of specialization and cohesion in anthropology.
We do not pretend to offer prescriptive conclusions to the troubling issues of holism
and subdisciplinary scholarly belonging in Americanist anthropology. However, we
do hold that what cultural anthropologists and archaeologists have in common continues to be greater than what differentiates them. Both study human relations, both
draw from a common, fundamental body of theory and method, and both believe
that their “interlocutors,” whether living or dead, convey messages worth listening to.
Although archaeologists and cultural anthropologists approach their analysis from a
diverse variety of angles, we are all, in essence, looking at the same questions, despite
the semantic and political issues that currently divide us. such shared history, theory,
method, and object of inquiry are what define us as a discipline.
We recognize that some colleagues may feel that disciplinary cohesiveness has
been lost, and that there is simply no going back. Even granting this, however, a
schism between archaeologists and cultural anthropologists is against their mutual
interests, distancing them from each other and further alienating them from laypeople and policymakers. And even if separation is the most logical alternative, we
still owe it to ourselves and our colleagues to engage in productive dialogue. After
all, a permanent separation of archaeology from anthropology would not proscribe
the free and open exchange of data, results, and ideas between archaeologists and
cultural anthropologists. The discussion, then, should not hinge solely upon arguments regarding whether the discipline is holistic, or idealistic pronouncements of
what anthropology “is” or “is not,” but instead should encourage the diversity and
subdisciplinary dialogue that already exists within anthropology, despite inherent
differences in focus and methodology.
As James Clifford (2005:24) suggested, anthropology as a field needs to go
through a process of “disciplining” that is less about “creating consensus than about
managing dissent, less about sustaining a core tradition than about negotiating borders and constructing coalitions.” We believe that this view should be embraced in
anthropology in order to keep the discipline salient in the coming decades. further,
we agree with Clifford that although there will always be reassignments and shifts
within the discipline, there are several core tenets that all subfields continue to
share, thus keeping the discipline whole. Therefore, we argue that anthropologists
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should collectively strive to produce scholarship useful to a wide range of scholars
and publics located inside and outside of the discipline, not simply to a select group
that shares a particular theoretical, methodological, epistemological, or philosophical perspective. such insularity serves only to create barricades to intradisciplinary
collaboration and dialogue.
We have argued that such research, driven by robust theoretical and methodological dialogue between subfields is, in fact, taking place and can be nourished
and sustained through mutual engagement and an active transference of cogent
ideas (Hepp and Englehardt 2011). We hold that excessive specialization fosters
narrow approaches to anthropological questions. likewise, focusing on differences
between the subfields results in the active exclusion of research that does not conform to one’s own theoretical and methodological perspectives. Holism, on the
other hand, adds depth to research. This is not to suggest that all archaeological
studies must necessarily involve ethnographic data, or that archaeologists should
be tethered exclusively to anthropological theory. instead, we argue that productive
complementarity should be a primary goal of anthropological research.
Anthropology is situated in a unique position, a discipline united by the paradigm of culture that sits astride both the “humanities” and the “sciences.” We are
better served by taking advantage of the best of both, and by avoiding gravitation
toward one extreme or the other (Kuper and Marks 2011). Anthropologists need
not fear sharing information with other fields, or using data generated and methods
employed within these disciplines. rather, increased transparency and clear communication regarding the ways in which novel theories, methods, and emerging
technologies are used can result in more fruitful intradisciplinary dialogue. such
communication, in turn, reignites inter- and intradisciplinary exchange, in ways
that positively benefit both ethnographic and archaeological research and ultimately have the potential to bridge the widening gap between us. This volume both
defends that proposition and attempts to offer tangible examples of such productive discourse and collaborative research.
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sTruCTure anD organIzaTIon oF ThIs volume
This volume critically examines historical, current, and future relationships between
cultural anthropology and archaeology by reevaluating the ways in which cultural
anthropologists and archaeologists communicate with one another. in a general sense,
we aim to investigate what defines anthropology as a discipline through an exploration of the theoretical relationship between historically contextualized research and
contemporary social theory in cultural anthropology and archaeology. By providing a forum wherein the current relationship between cultural anthropology and
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archaeology in academia can be discussed, we hope not only to encourage dialogue
between subdisciplines, but also to showcase practical and theoretically relevant
applications of archaeology in cultural anthropological research, and vice versa.
Contributors approach these goals by posing a series of questions that are relevant to the future of both archaeology and cultural anthropology: in what sense has
archaeology remained part of anthropology? How can cultural anthropologists utilize archaeological data in their research? What is the best use of ethnographic data
in archaeological investigations? What are the potential benefits of such collaborations for the discipline as a whole? What is the practicality of actively including
archaeological theories, findings, and perspectives in ethnographic studies? What
are some examples of specific intersections between cultural anthropology and
archaeology in the Americanist tradition? should archaeology and anthropology
remain allied, or is separation preferable? Thus, the volume as a whole actively seeks
to engage issues surrounding what we see as an increasing schism within our discipline. By reaching across ever-thickening partitions, the contributors reveal how
both sides can benefit from the other, how a freer exchange of data, methods, and
results between subfields can serve both ethnographic and archaeological research,
and how increased collaboration can lead to fuller, more productive anthropological debates and an anthropology more accessible to the broader public.
since a principal goal of this volume is to address the benefits of speaking a common language by renewing emphasis on subdisciplinary collaboration, the volume
gives equal voice to members of each subdiscipline and includes perspectives from
outside of Americanist anthropological archaeology (e.g., European archaeology,
classical archaeology). like this introduction, the first and last chapters are coauthored by a cultural anthropologist and an archaeologist, and the intervening chapters alternate between members of each subdiscipline. The volume ends with two
concluding chapters—one by an archaeologist and one by a cultural anthropologist—in an attempt to give equal voice to both “sides.” in doing so—and including
an equal number of contributions by archaeologists and cultural anthropologists—
we hope that the volume will be seen as a fair and balanced discussion, rather than
as a controversial “call to arms” that exhorts one side to adopt the perspective of
the other. rather, the volume seeks to highlight the benefits of bridging disciplinary divides and speaking a common language for both interpretivist and empirical,
scientifically oriented anthropologists.
InDIvIDual ConTrIbuTIons
individual chapters engage intradisciplinary issues to bridge disciplinary divides.
Through a combination of historical, theoretical, and practical perspectives, each
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contributor provides a critical reevaluation of the contemporary relationship
between archaeology, cultural anthropology, and the broader discipline of anthropology. Each chapter provides a unique perspective on the state of affairs in various
areas of the discipline, including discussions regarding Americanist, European, and
Mexican archaeological and cultural anthropological traditions.
The volume begins with vincent laMotta and John Monaghan’s examination
of the relationship between cultural anthropology and archaeology through a
comparative analysis of Mesoamerican and Pueblo southwest research contexts.
laMotta and Monaghan cite past collaborations between archaeologists and cultural anthropologists in these two regions to make the argument that, despite a
historical trajectory of collaboration, today only a small percentage of cultural
anthropologists and archaeologists collaborate at the regional level. in their chapter,
the authors seek to explain why levels of collaboration have decreased in these two
specific regions. laMotta and Monaghan conclude that, especially in the case of
Mesoamerican studies, there are extremely long temporal gaps in research and focus
that become academically categorized under the realm of “history,” which result
in the loss of between one and three centuries of research potential for cultural
anthropologists and archaeologists. Therefore, the authors propose that differences
in levels of subdisciplinary collaboration are not a recent development but also have
specific historic trajectories that extend beyond theoretical differences or variable
historical disciplinary relationships.
in the second chapter, Paul shankman assesses the history of cultural evolution, a theoretical concept that has experienced decades of use, misapplication, and
rediscovery in cultural anthropology and archaeology in the Americanist tradition.
shankman’s chapter begins with a question: Does cultural evolution carry so much
intellectual baggage that nowadays it can be referred to only indirectly? indeed,
the majority of students studying in graduate programs in the United states have
been exposed to the concept of cultural evolution in core or history of anthropology courses. However, the concept is widely considered antiquated, and is presented
as something of a cautionary tale in the history of the discipline. shankman states
that many currently practicing anthropologists, especially those who are the “newer”
generations of researchers, think cultural evolution is outdated as a concept, but are
unsure why. shankman approaches this paradox by thoroughly reviewing the contributions of major historic figures in cultural evolutionary studies in order to make
a case for why ethnography and comparison are not mutually exclusive. shankman
proposes, using case studies based in his own research in the south Pacific, that work
currently being done by cultural evolutionists in areas of shared thematic interest
with archaeologists, when based in materialist and scientific approaches, could in fact
contribute to mutual understandings of specific topics of broader anthropological
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interest, such as chiefdoms. it bears note that shankman’s chapter does not blindly
defend what some may consider an antiquated and distasteful conceptual paradigm—as suggested by the chapter’s title. rather, he examines the reasons for which
cultural evolution—once fertile ground for intradisciplinary dialogue—has been
relegated to the trash heap of anthropological discourse.
in his chapter, fredrik fahlander—an archaeologist trained in Europe—explores
the idea of the “absent subject” in archaeology, and how this concept makes the
relationship between archaeology and anthropology writ large an “uneven affair.”
Another cause for unevenness in the relationship between archaeology and anthropology, specifically cultural anthropology, stems from a time lag in the development
and application of major theoretical paradigms, where theories tend to make their
way first to cultural anthropology before they filter into archaeological practice.
furthermore, fahlander cautions that the unregulated use of ethnographic analogies
in archaeology can be somewhat dangerous. However, theories that extend understandings of the archaeological record to include social actors and acting objects—
aspects often addressed in ethnographic practice—can be beneficial for the subdiscipline of archaeology as a whole. fahlander envisions a “posthuman” archaeology,
one that emphasizes materialism and an evolution beyond dichotomous distinctions between “people” and “things.” He proposes that archaeology could serve
broader anthropological ends from its increased attachment to meaning and agency
in interpreting archeaological contexts. Although fahlander’s chapter at first glance
may be regarded as antithetical to the goals of this volume, we felt it important to
give voice to an outside perspective, insofar as archaeologists of the European school
often view cultural anthropology and archaeology as wholly separate—and often
unrelated—disciplines. nonetheless, a careful reading reveals many suggestions for
finding common ground and sparking dialogue between cultural anthropology and
archaeology in both Europe and the Americas—a significant conclusion given the
intellectual and academic contexts of fahlander’s own research.
ivy A. rieger presents an analysis of what a cultural anthropologist with archaeological field training, personal experiences, and four-field academic training
could practically look like. rieger begins her chapter with a reflexive analysis of
the influences of two different graduate programs on her development as a cultural anthropologist. rieger states that there exists a marked potential for graduate
students in anthropology, no matter the subdiscipline, to experience an identity
crisis, especially if they have more than a basic interest in exploring subdisciplines
other than their own more profoundly. to address this issue, rieger proposes
that graduate training in cultural anthropology could specifically benefit from
the integration and practical application of archaeological research experiences.
Through a recapitulation of her personal research experiences in oaxaca, Mexico,
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rieger provides a case study of what conclusions can result through collaboration
between the cultural anthropologist, as a subject position, and archaeology, as a
discipline. rieger concludes that, if more cultural anthropologists worked in the
field with archaeologists and in archaeological research contexts, and shared theory, method, and practice on a recurring level, both subdisciplines could mutually
inform each other and their relations with local populations, as well as provide
valuable nuances to theoretical perspectives and research conducted in anthropology at large.
Joshua Englehardt shifts perspectives regarding theoretical issues in archaeology
and anthropology by comparing the practice of anthropology and archaeology in
Mexico and the United states. to begin, Englehardt observes that those scholars,
graduate students, and university faculty members who are anthropologists in the
Americanist tradition who call for a “trial separation” or “divorce” often fail to
sketch a realistic vision of what archaeology without anthropology, and anthropology without archaeology, would actually look like. Through a reflexive analysis of
his experiences studying, teaching, and practicing archaeology in both the United
states and Mexico, Englehardt outlines his support of the continuation of the fourfield model of anthropology, discusses debates surrounding the concept of “science”
in archaeology, and addresses the current boundaries and frontiers shaping the discipline of archaeology and anthropology as a whole today. Englehardt notes that
archaeology is “undeniably multifaceted” and, as such a broad discipline, embodies
many applications of various theories and methods associated with diverse schools
of thought, regional traditions, and historical foundations. However, Englehardt
contends that archaeology lacks what can truly be considered its own body of theory, and that postmodern critique, largely borrowed from cultural anthropology
when applied in archaeological practice, is not objectionable but should not be the
“end goal” of anthropological investigation. Englehardt makes the argument that
archaeologists and other anthropologists should never lose the human element that
makes up the heart of our shared discipline, and that forcing a divide or allowing
fragmentation between our subdisciplines could hinder the development of new
ideas and theoretical perspectives.
Joseph Hellweg’s chapter explores the chameleonic nature of the concept of
“tribe” in cultural anthropology and archaeology. Hellweg argues that archaeologists
who have attempted to redefine and appropriate the term tribe for revitalized use in
archaeology may be, in fact, misconstruing the dynamics of kinship, alliance, and
gender that inform the term ethnographically. Through a thorough review of the use
of tribe in ethnography—specifically focusing on the nuer, Evans-Pritchard’s legacy,
Hellweg’s own work, and beyond—Hellweg notes that the traditional tribal model,
as applied in archaeology, relies on an individualistic notion of personhood, an
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assumption of social equality, and a belief that ethnographic insights can exclusively
pertain to short-term timespans. However, patterns of social life do leave traces in
the material record, and Hellweg proposes that many archaeologists who are not
familiar with ethnographic literature are not trained to see these traces. Therefore,
Hellweg concludes that occupying the term tribal, while emphasizing collaborative
exchange between cultural anthropologists and archaeologists, can result in productive conversations that, in turn, amplify interpretations of the archaeological
and ethnographic records. Hellweg’s chapter itself directly engages the work of one
of his former departmental colleagues—archaeologist Bill Parkinson—offering a
tangible example of the shapes that productive engagement and dialogue between
archaeologists and cultural anthropologists may take.
Archaeologist lilia fernández souza offers an ethnographic approach to the study
of foodways in yucatán that also has practical applications for archaeological purposes. in her chapter, fernández demonstrates the value of intradisciplinary cooperation through an analysis of culinary practices in contemporary communities as well as
the importance of food as a sociocultural concept over time and space. she proposes
that food, as an archaeological and ethnographic topic of interest for anthropologists, should be considered from ethnic, gender, age, class, religious, and locational
perspectives. fernández contends that an agency approach in archaeology is useful
in the analysis of how certain sociocultural groups take specific actions related to
the production, consumption, and distribution of food. As a case study, fernández
analyzes the history of Mexican cuisine, and the influence of colonialist, nationalist, and indigenous traditions in culinary traditions present in yucatán, Mexico. she
concludes that, although “translating” ethnographic analysis into archaeological
terms can be challenging, interpreting specific anthropological and archaeological
questions using every possible data source available can offer more nuanced explanations in diverse research contexts. like rieger, fernández uses an example from her
own research experiences to tangibly demonstrate the practical benefits and positive
impact of collaboration between archaeologists and cultural anthropologists.
similarly, Ashley Kistler addresses the potential contribution that collaboration
with an archaeologist could make to her own ethnographic research—and the local
community—in san Juan Chamelco, Guatemala. Kistler argues that collaborative
anthropology, involving complementary research and cooperation between cultural anthropologists, archaeologists, and local communities, provides an opportunity to bridge the growing subdisciplinary gap. Kistler details her own work on the
Aj Pop B’atz’ Project, an offshoot of her ethnographic research in the region. This
project sought to illuminate local perceptions of Aj Pop B’atz’, a revered and ancestral Q’eqchi’ Maya leader of the sixteenth century. Although ethnographic work to
discover Aj Pop B’atz’ were successful, Kistler contends, throughout her research
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new questions arose that could not be answered ethnographically. Kistler suggests
that supplementing her ethnographic work through collaboration with an archaeologist could expand understanding of this indigenous leader—particularly aspects
concerning the details of his life and accomplishments—as well as provide access
to the empirical data and historical information that the local community fervently
seeks. Thus, Kistler concludes, collaboration between cultural anthropologists and
archaeologists may have not only a reflexive positive impact on our subdisciplines,
but may also provide tangible benefits for the general public of the communities in
which we conduct our research.
The contribution by David small, a classical archaeologist, is another perspective that we felt a special need to include in this collection, given the historical
and structural divides between classical and anthropological archaeologists (and
cultural anthropologists). Classical and anthropological archaeologists are almost
always housed in distinct academic units and the former often adopt a more interpretivist stance than the latter. small discusses the interaction—or lack thereof—
between anthropology and classical archaeology in Greece, arguing that there is a
pedagogical disconnect between how classicists and other archaeologists, especially
those working in the Americanist tradition, are trained. specifically, classicists are
trained using a philological approach that applies history, not anthropology, as
the primary theoretical paradigm. Therefore, the ways in which classicists working
in the Greek context approach archaeology includes an explicit division between
“prehistory” and “history,” one that emphasizes the appearance of the written record,
a dichotomy that anthropological archaeologists do not typically construct in their
analyses of the archaeological record. small posits that classical archaeology, and,
conversely, anthropological archaeology and ethnography, can mutually benefit
from each other via a cross-pollination of theoretical and methodological ideas that
can bear fruitful collaborative comparisons between cultures, places, and time periods. in his chapter, small provides poignant examples of what this hybrid species
of analysis could look like, with a comparison between Classic Maya and Classical
Greek societies.
The final chapter of the volume, coauthored by the archaeologist Kent fowler
and the cultural anthropologist Derek Johnson, analyzes the concepts of choice
and wellbeing in archaeology and cultural anthropology. The authors review the
theorization of the two concepts in both subdisciplines in relation to the idea
of “resources.” Through comparative case studies of fishing in Gujarat, india, and
ceramic production in south Africa, fowler and Johnson emphasize the utility of
the concept of “modes of production” as having potential to cross the divide regarding collaboration between archaeologists and cultural anthropologists. Modes of
production, they argue, can also be of use in an ethnoarchaeological context as well.
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in conclusion, fowler and Johnson propose that cultural anthropology, and cultural anthropologists, may find it “refreshing” that archaeologists are motivated to
seriously consider the immaterial underpinnings of materiality, and that cultural
anthropologists may also be inspired to reconsider the importance of material considerations in ethnographic studies of human lifeways.
to close the diverse arguments and perspectives presented by the authors of this
volume, we have included two conclusions, one from a cultural anthropologist
and another from an archaeologist. The first conclusion, by Donna M. Goldstein,
reflects on the contemporary characteristics and possible futures of the discipline of anthropology approximately ten years after the publication of segal and
yanagisako’s (2005) Unwrapping the Sacred Bundle: Reflections on the Disciplining
of Anthropology. Citing the chapters in the present volume, Goldstein proposes that
anthropology appears poised for a shared future, one where archaeology and cultural anthropology can practically and theoretically mutually nourish one another.
However, Goldstein points out that any “creative alliances” between the subdisciplines must grow organically and freely, born of individual choice, instead of being
forced to do so (or to not do so) due to departmental or disciplinary politics, which
can and do continue to produce unnecessary tensions between us.
William A. Parkinson’s conclusion reflects upon the anthropological nature of
archaeology and, conversely, the archaeological nature of anthropology’s historically Boasian (split?) personality. Parkinson argues that even if archaeologists and
anthropologists attempt to speak the same language, they have always practiced, and
will continue to practice, their fields in different ways. However, this should not be
cause for despair. Holism, Parkinson suggests, should not be seen as a theoretical
ideal where we “share” everything even if it isn’t a good fit, but instead be identified as
our unique ability, and shared goal, to “examine the human condition from a variety
of different perspectives” using a diverse range of theoretical standpoints.
FInal ConsIDeraTIons
returning to a point made above, we recognize that archaeology and cultural
anthropology have critiqued each other throughout their existence as academic
disciplines, and that there is a great deal of variability in this historical relationship.
no one collection of essays on the topic can possibly provide a definitive resolution
to the issues that currently affect our subfields and have the potential to divide us
as a discipline. We do not suggest that the contributions collected here address or
represent all possible perspectives on the issues. Although we accept that the relationship between anthropological subdisciplines may not be as dire as some may
think—or as we have suggested—we do maintain that both subfields could benefit
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from employing a “common language” to move beyond mutual misunderstandings
on theoretical and practical levels. to us, it is clear that only by coming together as
a discipline can anthropologists meaningfully contribute to intradisciplinary dialogue and research, and only by presenting a unified front can we engage the wider
public to underline the contemporary value and relevance of both anthropological
research and the discipline itself.
We further recognize that the use of social theory and ethnographic analogies represent difficult mediums for archaeologists. Highly abstract yet potentially fruitful
theories and models derived from cultural anthropological research are often difficult to translate for functional archaeological use, and are too often met with snide
dismissal. likewise, cultural anthropologists also face challenging dilemmas when
conducting ethnographic analysis, and are sometimes reluctant to employ potentially
productive diachronic methods to contextualize data that result from archaeological research. nonetheless, we hold that a greater exchange of data, results, and ideas
between subfields would positively benefit both ethnographic and archaeological
research, in both intellectual and practical terms. in highlighting linkages between
subfields in the research of our colleagues, this volume offers tangible evidence that
transparent communication regarding the ways in which social theory and emerging technologies are used in anthropological research is, in fact, occurring, and that
progress can be made in reconciling intradisciplinary differences.
We thus conclude that the dialogue we have started here must continue if the
subdisciplines of American anthropology are to scale the barriers that currently
threaten it. it is only through such productive dialogue resulting in (and demonstrating) tangible intradisciplinary benefits that we can begin to repair the divide.
to paraphrase fox (2003:152–153), nothing good will come to anthropology by
ignoring these sociological, organizational, and intellectual challenges, or by displacing dismay, displeasure, or frustration onto perceived adversaries, either internal or external. We do not suggest that archaeologists should collaborate solely with
cultural anthropologists, or that cultural anthropologists must necessarily employ
archaeological data. rather, we echo fox’s (2003:153) call for anthropologists to
pursue significant research questions and to integrate scholarship across fields and
subdisciplines as those research questions require. We hope that this volume contributes to such integration, encouraging both further inquiry and an appreciation
of the richly productive relationship between anthropological subfields. in the
end, we believe that all anthropologists should actively work toward creating and
maintaining active and productive subdisciplinary discourse. This volume contributes to such discourse by offering tangible examples of the benefits of collaborative
research and exchange, as well as illustrating the myriad shapes that such intradisciplinary exchange may take.
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1. or, for that matter, whether any of the four traditional subdisciplines are related in
any meaningful way, given the immense diversity that exists between them (smith 2011;
Wallerstein 2003).
2. see the AAA definition of cultural anthropology (http://www.aaanet.org/about
/whatisanthropology.cfm, accessed october 10, 2014) and the sAA definition of archaeology (http://www.saa.org/publicftp/PUBliC/educators/03_whatis.html, accessed october 10, 2014). rather than viewing these definitions as prescriptive, we prefer to envision
them as a baseline against which the conceptions and definitions of our discipline (and subdisciplines) offered by the chapters in this volume may be compared and contrasted.
3. Both the sAA and the AAA do have webpages dedicated to the general public (e.g.,
“archaeology for the public,” http://www.saa.org/publicftp/PUBliC/home/home.html;
“archaeology for educators,” http://www.saa.org/publicftp/PUBliC/educators/03_whatis
.html; “rACE: Are We so Different?,” http://www.aaanet.org/resources/a-public-education
-program.cfm). However, there is little direct interaction with public-media forums, including conferences, television, radio, and internet, that are outside of the academic sphere.
4. see, for example, the recent controversy surrounding the inclusion of the word science in the mission statement of the AAA (AAA long–range Plan, http://www.aaanet.org
/about/Governance/long_range_plan.cfm, accessed June 11, 2013); cf. Dreger 2010.
5. see http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/10/science/10anthropology.html?_r=0, accessed May 23, 2013.
6. for example, one of the coeditors of this volume has received research funding from
both the national science foundation and the national Endowment for the Humanities.
7. The national research Council’s data-based assessment of research doctorate programs (ostriker et al. 2011) offers a particularly data-rich vision of the wide variety of departmental and administrative classifications of anthropology (and its subdisciplines) at 82 Us
research universities. in fairness, however, it should be noted that the majority of these programs remain within the contexts of four-field departments of anthropology.
8. At the risk of accusations of creating a “strawman” argument, we prefer not to “name
names” or call out particular scholars directly. We feel that such an approach would merely
serve to reinforce the very acrimony and division we seek to avoid. of course, such sentiments are not universally shared. indeed, there are voices on both sides of the debate that
favor continued association (e.g., Anderson 2003; Barfield 2003; Earle 2003; Gosden 1999;
Kuper and Marks 2011; longacre 2010; sugandhi 2009).
9. see http://uff-fsu.org/oldsite/art/UfflayoffArbitrationBrief.pdf, accessed october 7, 2014. it is revealing that among the possibilities considered by the university administration was “farming out certain anthropology professors to biology and other departments” (http://chronicle.com/article/Anthropologists-look-for/125464/, accessed July
12, 2013).
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10. see http://politics.heraldtribune.com/2011/10/10/rick-scott-wants-to-shift-univer
sity-funding-away-from-some-majors/, accessed october 7, 2014; http://chronicle.com
/article/Disappearing-Disciplines-/64850/; and http://chronicle.com/blogs/brainstorm
/why-i-am-weeping-for-florida-state-university/19493, accessed october 7, 2014. since then,
Governor scott has proposed differential tuition rates for stEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) and non-stEM majors. The Governor has thus made it clear that he sees
anthropology as a whole as an “unscientific” discipline, and intends to make those who wish
to study it pay more for their educations. ironically, his own daughter has an undergraduate
degree in anthropology.
11. full disclosure: the fsU department of anthropology ceased to be a truly four-field
department when its only linguistic anthropologist passed away in 2006.
12. As one commenter put it: “anthropology reminds me of one of those furniture
stores that is always going out of business. Cries of alarm at its imminent breakup, as well
as heartfelt pleas to keep the four fields together, have been a staple of anthropological
discourse for at least a generation. After a while, you start to think that maybe this isn’t a
crisis, it’s a business model” (http://chronicle.com/article/Anthropologists-look-for/125
464/, accessed July 12, 2013).
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