Osteoarchaeology: the bridge between biology and materiality/material culture

Human osteoarchaeology is the study of excavated human skeletons from archaeological sites. Whilst Sofaer (2006) argues that the body is a contested site, torn between biology and material culture, this essay instead proposes that the osteoarchaeological body is a middle ground between these two theologies. The body itself can be regarded as a form of material culture: it exists and “moves” through the material world, which is constructed by both objects and people. Miller defines material objects as a “setting”, they are the backdrop of human life, where agency is played out and social constructs are formed in a physical environment. During the practical, the change from isolated objects, incomplete as separate artefacts, to a whole assemblage impacted my perception on human remains and their materiality. 

Osteoarchaeology bridges biology and material culture is through the grave context itself. The boundary of the body is extended to the walls of the grave. In such close proximity objects and body have no choice but to be viewed together, both shaping interpretation of the other. Therefore, not only does the grave restrict what is associated with the body during excavation, the body is constructed by the grave – person and object are intrinsically linked together. However, the issue arise post excavation – bones are often treated as passive objects, in academic literature processes such as disease or epiphyseal fusion are described as happening to the bone, rather than the body being participatory. Furthermore, objects are not passive, they construct and restrict human life – just like a burial context. They should be studied in parallel with each other, not necessarily completely together or completely separate. 

Grauer and Miller’s (2017) research on violence, gender and trauma illustrates the intersectionality of material culture and osteoarchaeology. They used the Calendar of Patent Rolls (CPR), a collection of administrative records, alongside skeletal remains to determine the relationship between gender and violence in the medieval period. The CPR also illustrated the perception of violence and its use in the socio-political context of Britain during this period. This enabled a critical analysis of modern ideas concerning medieval violence. For instance; Pitchforks, knives and other dangerous equipment composed the “everyday work-kit”. It is not that these were more likely to cause accidents or that medieval people were inherently more violent – rather the “backdrop” these objects created facilitated violent acts. Subsequently, not only is material culture being used in tandem with osteoarchaeology – CPR was written and catalogued by medieval people, it shaped laws, expectations and most importantly; social norms for medieval Britain. Nevertheless, there are issues with using contemporary ‘objective’ data. If a crime was of no interest to the Crown, there would be no representation of it in this official administrative record 

Whilst osteoarchaeology generates valuable information surroundings past people, it rarely considers culture and personhood. This gap can be supplemented by historical sources – like CPR. Whilst the CPR does not provide a complete picture of violence in medieval England it bridges informational gaps which are not always answerable using osteoarchaeology. For example, the CPR illustrates that women’s tongues and eyes were targets of violence, osteoarchaeologists would be unable to know this as natural tissue decays. This further reinforces the over-arching theme of the essay: in order for osteoarchaeology to obtain in-depth, rich data about past people, the research process must be interweaved with other perspectives and disciplines. Of course, this is not without fault: historical bias of the CPR is unavoidable 

The Western approach towards the “other” (in this case, the dead) is rooted in a specific metaphysical paradigm which is often ignored under the guise of objectivity (Ion, 2016). One such example is the supremacy of scientific knowledge, obtained through osteoarchaeology. In many cases, osteoarchaeology is regarded as respectful and justified – by “giving a voice”  to marginalised communities whom are often omitted or absent from the historical record. On the other hand, in some cultures removing the dead from their resting place is an act of structural violence and disrespect. Cases such as these showcase the divide within osteoarchaeology – where biology and the dominating paradigm of science prevents agency being acted out against the backdrop of material culture, negatively impacting marginalised communities.  

The ‘contested nature’ of the osteoarchaeological body enables conversations surrounding belonging, meaning, ritual and agency. This is extremely relevant in contemporary debates such as repatriation.  Material culture is still at the forefront of this issue; the meaning attributed to Native American bones is different from the perspective of academia. Bones are viewed as a scientific resource, whilst for Native Americans they are their ancestors and family. An anthropology professor from UCLA argued that “(repatriation) implies that you’re giving something back to people who own it. They don’t own it, and never did”. By attaching the verb “own” to the repatriation discussion, it reinforces discourse that human remains are solely an artefact; that repatriation and reburial are at the expense of archaeologists who serve a higher purpose – education and science; knowledge. Bones have fundamental links to rituals – their removal diminishes agency of living descendants, amplifying the colonial and racist roots of osteoarchaeology. Repatriation enables a discourse to be established, through different perspectives and understanding of the body.  Archaeological excavation and research has to be justified and collaborative between these communities for the true potential of osteoarchaeology to be achieved.  For an archaeologist the past is something to be discovered through excavation and can thereby be analysed and constructed. For Native Americans the past is a part of daily life through spirituality and rituality. Rather than being a middle ground between biology and material culture, osteoarchaeology has the potential to become a meeting point, creating a discipline where the communities involved share the past, rather than archaeologists imposing their own version of it 

Developed from coursework in Post Excavation Analysis unit at the University of Bristol Anthropology and Archaeology Department

Author

Mia Bessette Potts is a current 2nd year studying Archaeology and Anthropology BA. She focuses particularly on how social anthropology and archaeology intersect. She is especially interested in how personhood is constructed for human remains displayed in museums, and re-thinking archaeological methods and practices that viewed as the norm.

Something a Little More Intimate: Citizenship, the State, and Making Things Personal

Intimate Citizenship 

Commonplace phrases are rarely as simple as they seem, especially when they have hefty legal implications to go with them. The term “citizenship” is one of these. Deceivingly tricky and complicated for its common place use, “Citizenship is a contested and a normative concept…[that] usually refers to full membership in a national state. [However] There are no authoritative definitions,” partially because different nation states – and the policy makers, factions, and people that make up those states – have different ideas of what citizenship entails. 

In our modern world, citizenship is closely tied to the idea of democracy.  Legally speaking, a citizen is somebody who has certain rights and obligations to a nation state. These are defined by the state they “belong” to – often thought practically as your passport state among transnational travelers. Citizens have certain obligations to that state and the national, political, or local community, and in exchange (supposedly) have certain rights provided by the state. Ideally, in democratic thought, citizens have voting rights or participation rights in choosing the leaders of the state and the laws that they are to abide by.  However, citizenship is not as simple as such a legal definition implies (and there is no one universal legal definition). As always, the world doesn’t exist in simple, definitive binaries. Things are messy.  As Meehan notes,  

“[o]n the one hand, people who are co-nationals of the same state may be denied the same citizenship rights as one another. On the other hand, residents in a state who are not nationals of it may be granted some of the same rights of citizenship that are enjoyed by those who are nationals.”   

Having a passport, birth certificate, or other paper documentation that claims you’re a citizen of somewhere – that you “belong” somewhere – doesn’t always guarantee the actual right to remain, the right to vote, to work, to live. On the flip side, lacking citizenship, official, documented belonging, doesn’t necessarily exclude you from some citizenship rights. Plenty of people own property in countries they’re not citizens of. International migrant workers work and live in countries they don’t “belong” to. I, as an international student in the UK, am given the right to work (20 hours a week), rent, and remain for the duration of my studies. I have been granted limited rights of citizenship under specific conditions (I’m studying in the UK). 

Due to the complex nature of the state and societies’ relation to culture and individuals’ lives, the term “citizen” has come to have more meaning than just a basic (yet still contested) legal one. To reflect this, social sciences have asserted that there are many different types of citizenship, including: cultural citizenship, urban citizenship, sexual citizenship, and intimate citizenship. These differentiations of citizenship allow for nuanced understandings of people’s experiences of belonging.  Let’s focus on one of these types of citizenship, intimate citizenship.  

Defining Intimate Citizenship 

Intimate citizenship explores how the state and societal norms mediate and at times regulate aspects of an individual’s “private life.”  As Plummer notes, “intimacy is often restricted to our romantic and sexual life; but I [Plummer] use the term to refer to an array of arenas in which we ‘do’ the personal life – doing body work, doing gender, doing relationships, doing eroticism, and doing identities.” This concept of “doing work” and “doing relationships” – of the daily activities of people’s lives is the intimacy that I am interested here. Plummer continues: 

“Applied to intimacies, citizenship implies the rights and obligations surrounding different intimate life styles, the participation of different intimate groupings and the recognition of people’s different intimate identities. Ideas around intimate citizenship have been increasingly placed on the political agenda. In much of the western literature on this, the great emphasis has been placed on citizenship as the right to choose: to choose your partner, your sexual activities, whether you have a child or not, or what you do to your body…Yet whilst recognizing the growing importance of this, there is also a need for intimate citizenship debates to focus upon the more traditional role of inequalities in considering citizenship” (Plummer 2004, para. 16). 

As a concept, intimate citizenship highlights the inequalities experienced in access to the claimed rights of a citizen, and where lacking (full) citizenship affects people’s private, personal lives.  Not all citizenship is the same or equal, and looking into how ideas and experiences of citizenship, or lack thereof, offer new insight into people’s lives, choices, and experiences.  Intimate citizenship looks at the experiences and lives of an individual on the daily and personal level, and how these are interwoven with social and legal definitions of citizenship and belonging to a particular community.   

The ability to participate in, or choose, particular lifestyles or “intimate groupings” and the (often) inequalities surrounding these choices is just one example of how intimate citizenship can nuance understandings of belonging, identities, and individual’s interactions with the state. A classic example, one that verges into the very related but more specific concept of sexual citizenship, would be laws surrounding same sex relationships. Whom a person engages sexually with in general, is largely considered personal, private business. However, in countries where same sex relationships are illegal or do not qualify for marriage (official recognition by the state), the state is affecting personal lives/matters. Another example is that of migrant/transnational families, where visa restrictions and legal right to remain affect family unification.  

Case Study: Citizenship Mediated Through Family 

The dilemma between wanting to be physically present for your children and the economic needs of providing a child with the best possible future is common among many transnational parents (Madianou 2014).  Issues of citizenship – particularly the citizen’s right to remain in a particular country – complicates this farther.  Many migrant domestic workers do not make enough money to sponsor their entire family and bring them over to the country in which they work.  However, the economic benefits of working abroad are too strong for many to go back home. 

Citizenship, or lack thereof, affects and mediates the possibilities for intimate ways of being.  Lacking the citizenship that you need to unify your family gets in the way of personal choice of having a family.  This is particularly true, for example, in the experiences of undocumented Mexican migrant parents constantly at risk of deportation, even while their children are US citizens.  Many of these parents struggle with whether they should risk being separated from their children, should they be deported, by raising them in the United States. The alternative is to be separated from them always, sending their children – even though some of them are American citizens – to Mexico to be raised by family. The intimate, daily lives of these families, of the citizenship(s) of these children, are full of shifting levels of belonging both in the United States and in Mexico.  It is not uncommon for young children who, though they are citizens of the United States, are deported with their parents back to Mexico. Their own citizenship is revoked or ignored because of the citizenship status of their parents.  Even legal citizenship, or particularly legal citizenship, affects the intimate lives of families. Not only an individual’s citizenship, but the status of other family members can also influence whether or not a person has access to the rights of their own legal citizenship.   

Past the individual level, citizenship here is tied to the family unit, and particularly to parents, adding another layer to parent-child relationships.  The experience of citizenship for these children is practically null compared to their peers with citizen parents.  Their right to remain in the country they supposedly “belong” to and are members of renegotiates definitions of citizenships to accommodate for personal (intimate) family relations and another individual’s citizenship. 

Conclusion 

To return to Plummer’s discussion on intimate citizenship:  

“Applied to intimacies, citizenship implies the rights and obligations surrounding different intimate life styles, the participation of different intimate groupings and the recognition of people’s different intimate identities”  

The ability to participate in, or choose, particular lifestyles or “intimate groupings,” and the choices and, often, inequalities surrounding these is just one example of how intimate citizenship can nuance understandings of experiences of identity and belonging.  Among migrants and transnational families, intimate citizenship can be used to frame how aspects of personal, daily life are affected by your – and sometimes your intimate relations’ – identities. Access to the rights of a citizen, of ‘belonging’ to the community you live in, are negotiated and curbed by the state through elements of your personal, private life.  In the case of undocumented Mexican migrants and their American citizen children, it become apparent that legal citizenship can be renegotiated through social and cultural citizenship, all in relation to intimate familial relations.  This is only the tip of the iceberg. Intimate citizenship highlights the inequalities inherent in ‘rights’ of belonging. Regardless of how much you contribute to the community you live in, if you pay taxes, are a good neighbor, worker, friend, family, citizen – how you portray yourself in the public sphere – aspects of your personal sphere can and are used to determine how much and when you can be a citizen. 

 Author

Rae Hackler is a 2nd year PhD student in Anthropology studying tea, identity, and citizenship among diasporas.

 

Anthropology for the Study of Drugs and Society

Anthropological Research

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Anthropology is the study of human communities, their history, behavior, patterns, and diverse social functionalities.

Because of this focus and methodology, anthropology is a valuable discipline to study the communities created around legal and illegal drug use and illegal drug markets.

The research in anthropological drug studies can focus on gender perspectives of drugs, on theoretical approaches, history, and others.

However, we believe that anthropological theories, such as ethnography, can support different approaches to our current anti-drug policies and can, for example, help with the demystification of drug use. Or, as stated by Carlson et al, ethnographic research on drug users also contributes to understanding and improving public health.

Ethnographical Drug Research

Ethnographic research on drug communities is mostly focused on real-life interactions of the drug markets or usersculture.

However, because of its illegal status, there are enormous challenges in researching groups that are involved with drug communities.

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Online Drug Culture

More recently, Anthropology has started to focus on online cultures.

One example on the Surface Web is the research made by Lisa Krieg, in which they examine the virtual community on Erowid – a drug education website –  through Big Data sources.

However, there is a new focus on online academic research: the drug markets on the Dark Web.

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Masson and Bancroft did ethnographical research using interviews and non-participant observation in crypto forums. They aimed to understand how users claim the crypto market as a space of morality, empathy, trust, reciprocity, knowledge transfer, harm-reduction, and self-limitation.

Rachael Ferguson also discusses methods and the differences in online versus offline concerns and risks. The author concludes that these sites offer access to far larger data than we could obtain in offline ethnographical fieldwork.

Conclusion

Anthropological research on the drug communities is beneficial for society because it can help us to understand how people get involved with it, how strong their bond with the community, and how policies can support them.

Developed from coursework in the Drugs and Society unit at the University of Bristol Department of Anthropology and Archaeology

Author

Rafaela Carvalho is a master’s student in Anthropology. She is an international student and has an undergraduate degree in International Relations from the Universidade Paulista. Her research interests include the illegal drug market, illegal drug policies, and the dark web.