Understanding Past Actions – Changing Attitudes towards Ritual, Religion, and Everyday Life

Sonja Hukantaival UNDERSTANDING PAST ACTIONS – CHANGING ATTITUDES TOWARDS RITUAL, RELIGION AND EVERYDAY LIFE Sonja Hukantaival In earlier studies religion and everyday life have often been seen as the opposites of each other. The strict dichotomy between sacred and profane has been widely accepted in anthropology, history of religion, and archaeology. This approach has since been changing, first in the other mentioned disciplines and then also among archaeologists. Nevertheless, many outdated attitudes towards ritual and religion still linger among us, perhaps unconsciously. This paper discusses briefly the changing attitudes towards ritual, religion, and everyday life in archaeology and how this development contributes towards a wider understanding of past action. It is proposed here that the crux of the definitional problems of religion and ritual lies within how categories are always simplifications of reality. When we do not divide action into strict categories and do not force sharp dichotomies on the societies we study, we get a more comprehensive insight into past life. Key words: ritual, religion, magic, categories, semantics, sacred and profane, building concealments/deposits. Sonja Hukantaival, University of Turku, Archaeology, 2 Henrikinkatu St., FI-20014 Turun yliopisto, Finland; sonja.hukantaival@utu.fi Introduction Ritual is problematic. It can be simplified as action that has been distinguished from ordinary actions through different means (see e.g. Bell 1997, 91–169). However, it is quite descriptive that when the proceedings of a symposium on religious rites held in Turku, Finland in 1991 were published, the publication was titled The Problem of Ritual (Ahlbäck 1993). Also many of the other references listed in the bibliography below reveal this same trend. In this article I review approaches towards questions of ritual from the point of view of archaeologists; how it was gradually realised that there is a problem and what kind of solutions have been suggested. The reason why ritual is problematic will also be discussed. The core of the problem is actually very simple – it is all about semantics – but still there are no easy solutions. The problem of ritual is part of a bigger problem: the problem of religion. Timothy Insoll (2004b, 1–2) puts forward that one of the reasons why religion has been neglected in archaeology is that the term is so difficult to define. Instead, ritual has been preferred as a descriptive device1, and apparently has often been used without closer inspection of the term (Insoll 2004b, 2–3). In fact, ritual is just as difhis has not only happened in archaeology, but also in anthropology (see e.g. Douglas 1984 (1966), 66). 1 183 Interarchaeologia, 4 ficult to define as religion, as has been noticed over and over again (e.g. Goody 1961; Sørensen 1993; Bell 1997, 138–170; Brück 1999). A simple explanation for why archaeologists have preferred the term ‘ritual’ over ‘religion’ is that since rituals are actions, they sometimes leave observable traces in the archaeological record, while religion is thought to be more abstract (Fogelin 2007, 56). Rituals are also not only religious actions, so it may seem safer for an archaeologist of a secular world to study rituals, and just leave the uncomfortable questions of religion and belief outside the discussion (see e.g. Insoll 2004b; Whitley 2008). But, as Insoll (2004b, 3) points out, ritual has often been treated as the descriptor for religion itself in archaeological discussions. It should be remembered that ritual is a part of a wider whole, Insoll continues (Insoll 2004b, 3). Basically, religion includes beliefs, actions, and institutions which assume the existence of ‘supernatural’ agencies (see Bruce 1995, ix). The notion of ‘supernatural’ makes this otherwise simple definition debatable: it carries the below discussed dichotomy of sacred–profane in the form natural–supernatural. Lars Fogelin (2007, 56) points out that archaeologists generally agree that ritual is a form of action or behaviour, but there are significant differences in how they see the relationship between ritual and religion. Archaeologists who are structure-oriented see religion as primary, with ritual enacting underlying religious beliefs. Those who are practice-oriented see ritual as primary, and the religious beliefs conform to the actions. As remarked above, rituals do not necessarily need to be religious, but most archaeologists seem to have been either interested in religious ritual or have questioned the usefulness of the concepts of religion and ritual altogether (see e.g. Brück 1999; Herva & Ylimaunu 2009). 184 The aim of this paper is not to solve the problems of ritual and religion. Ultimately, it is up to every researcher to weigh the different approaches against each other and to decide which one is best suited to the material and questions at hand. Therefore this paper is more a journey towards finding the approaches that help understanding the phenomenon of ritual building concealments during historical times in Finland, which is the research material of the author. These building concealments are objects that have been deliberately hidden in the constructs of a building, which, according to Finnish 19th-century folklore, has often been done as a part of magic protection of the building and its inhabitants (see e.g. Hukantaival 2007; 2009; 2011). Still, the discussion should not be uninteresting to readers with different kinds of materials and questions before them. Ritual vs. functional One of the earliest questions asked by archaeologists who study ritual, or religion more broadly, was how to identify it in archaeological contexts (Fogelin 2007, 59). The term ’ritual’ was long used to refer to a cultural practice that did not seem to have any functional value or was simply bizarre. So actions could be divided into functional, rational acts and ritual, irrational acts. At the same time this was a very colonialist view, dividing people into rational Europeans and irrational, primitive ‘others’ (see Brück 1999, 318–319). This way of thinking has its roots in the European history of secularisation and can be found in the oldest academic definitions of religion. Émile Durkheim’s (1964 (1915)) definition of religion contains two elements. Firstly, religion consists of beliefs and practices relative to sacred and distinct from profane things. The Sonja Hukantaival second criterion was introduced to distinguish between religion and magic: religion is public while magic is private (Durkheim (1964 (1915)), 23–47; about critique of this definition see e.g. Goody 1961, 145– 157). This dichotomy of sacred and profane has since been widely discussed, and in addition to researchers of other disciplines many archaeologists have criticised it on well-established grounds (e.g. Brück 1999; Bradley 2003; 2005). I will return to this critique below. Archaeologists are not alone in having interpreted religion and ritual by failing to recognise the rational means–end relationship of an observed action (see Goody 1961, 156). Indeed, we can ask whether it really is truthful to write about this in past tense. Contemporary archaeologists who are familiar with the theoretical discussion about the primal questions of the archaeology of religion are most likely sure to avoid making too strict distinctions between the spheres of ritual and rational action. But, at least from the very narrow view of the current author, it seems that many archaeologists who are responsible for unearthing the material remains of ritual (namely fieldwork professionals) still use a kind of ‘Sherlock Holmes’ type of deduction ruling out any functional explanation before giving in to a religion/ ritual-related interpretation of a find. This could be a very local phenomenon, but as has also been noted by James Morris (2008, 93), archaeological theorists and practitioners are not always on the same wavelength regarding the interpretation of finds. If it is so in a British environment where discussions about the challenges of the archaeology of religion have been frequent, it is not surprising to find it in a setting where such discussion has been rare. The Finnish archaeology of religion is still quite sporadic with little domestic discussion about the subject. All in all, there still seems to be a fear of being labelled as an irrational enthusiast who over-interprets finds, so a ‘safe’ functional interpretation is easily preferred (compare with Insoll 2004b and Whitley 2008).2 A question might arise of whether there is any reason why it should be a problem if (some) fieldwork professionals interpret ritual in this way. To answer this we will have to return to the critique aimed at the sacred–profane dichotomy. The main point is that even though this dichotomy has been presented as a universal feature of culture, it has been noticed that in reality the case is more complex (see e.g. Goody 1961, 145–157). Dividing things into sacred and profane is not universal; on the contrary it seems to be more common in different cultures not to have such strict extremes. In the case of archaeology, fixating on these divisions may lead to confusion when interpreting finds where traces of ritual activity are observed in a ‘surprising’ context, for example in a domestic setting (Bradley 2003; 2005, 10– 28). This division may seriously stand in the way of understanding prehistoric life, as Joanna Brück (1999) has pointed out. From the point of view of traces of historical ‘folk religion’3, to which category the building concealments are connected, there are similar consequences as well. If archaeologists only point out the odd, otherwise completely unexplainable finds as traces of ritual and religion, what will this do to our understanding of historical practices and life? It can lead to overlooking the ordinary rituals that were a part of his is based on the current author’s personal experiences and some ‘cofee-table’ discussions, and should not be taken as an established fact. 3 Another term not easily deined and not without problems (see e.g. Yoder 1974). In this case the concept means laypeople’s interpretations of religion which also include elements not approved by the oicial religious authorities. 2 185 Interarchaeologia, 4 people’s everyday lives. For a slightly provocative example, it can lead to a view in which people of the past were very careless with their coins, especially losing them while going to church and while building foundations. Coins can of course easily be lost, but if we always resort to a ‘safe’ explanation, when will we notice a pattern? In the case of historical archaeology, there is a huge body of other sources (such as folklore and court records) that document ordinary rites, involving for example the coins mentioned here. I will present some of this material in my upcoming thesis (see also Hukantaival 2011; about coins in Finnish churches Jokipii 2002, 37–38). Another question might be if any interpretations about ritual at all should be made during the fieldwork. In practice, interpretations are necessarily made in the field all the time, and they influence greatly how observations are documented. When interpreting possible ritual action the contexts of finds are of crucial importance. A good example is my own study topic of deliberate concealments in Finnish buildings. Before the increase in awareness of this phenomenon, possible building concealments were not recognised and the finds were documented by the accuracy of square or stratigraphic unit only, thus leaving the critical exact find context undocumented. This same problem may affect other, still undiscussed, ritual actions as well. The fieldwork situation is where our research material is ‘born’, and the choices made there will definitely affect the way interpretations can be done later, since lost information may be impossible to retrieve afterwards. Before looking more closely at how the interpretations of ritual and religion have changed in connection to the above-mentioned critique, I will take a short detour to look at another dichotomy. The dichotomy of religion and magic is connected to the sacred–profane dichotomy, not only as 186 it belongs to the same time in the history of theory but also as it carries a similar attitude. Religion vs. magic As mentioned above, in addition to distinguishing between religion and rational behaviour there has been a need to distinguish between religion and magic (see also Hammond 1970). In Durkheim’s definition of religion he argued that while religion is public and binds people together, magic is private and lacks community (Durkheim (1964 (1915)), 42–47). Even after he remarked that religion and magic are very similar, he still felt a strong need to make a distinction between the two. Earlier scholars have also suggested an evolutionary relationship between magic and religion, with primitive magic evolving into sophisticated religion (Frazer 1922, 54–55). Generally, magic as action can be simply defined as goal-directed techniques (rites) that use a specific understanding of causality. There seems to be a shared suspicion towards magic among many of the classic scholars of religion (e.g. Mauss (2006 (1902)), 28–30; Durkheim (1964 (1915)), 42–47; Frazer 1992 (1922), 48–60). This is easily understood when looking into the history of ‘superstition’ in Europe. Magic is prominently connected with superstition, a term that has been used for any kind of ‘wrong’ religiosity (see Cameron 2010, 4–6). Theologians made efforts to draw a line between magic and ‘true’ religion already in medieval times. Before the Reformation, theologians did not agree on any other boundaries of superstition than a shared disapproval of ‘demonic’ magic (Cameron 2010, 139). After the Reformation the dangerous aspects of magic became emphasised even more. Magic was not only misguided and ignorant, it was dangerous since it was Sonja Hukantaival agreed by analysts of magic that a pact with a demon was always present in magical acts, whether this was deliberate or purely unintentional (Cameron 2010, 191–195). Following in the footsteps of historical superstition treatises (see Cameron 2010, 192), Durkheim stated that magic is a “mockery of religion”, as it takes a “professional pleasure in profaning holy things” (Durkheim (1964 (1915)), 43). He tried hard to distinguish this suspicious action from religion, but when he stumbled on the phenomenon of private cult, he did not notice that his explanation for why private cults actually are a part of religion could just as well be used in regards to magic (Durkheim (1964 (1915)), 42–47). Similarly Frazer (1922, 52–54) had to note that religion and magic were sometimes mixed in his attempt to make the distinction by attributing respect and submission to religion while magic was supposedly based only on a misguided law of mechanical cause and effect. Basically, it seems that the concealed main issue in condemning magic by the theologians in the past was a question of power and authority. The real danger of magic was that it was practiced by ordinary people and thus threatened the privileged position of the clergy. The concern about fraternisation with demons may well have been real, but the true source of the discomfort seems to have been related to status and power (see also e.g. Lewis-Williams 2008, 37–38). In my mind, this appears to have been the fundamental reason to condemn magic and the motivation to distinguish between (true) religion and magic, a need that was still felt by later researchers who perhaps did not see the connection. In this light, there is no actual reason to separate magic from religion (see also Hammond 1970); at least not outside theologies discussing true and false religion. This point has since been acknowledged by many scholars (e.g. Koski 2011, 82), but still the old division surfaces at times (e.g. Carlie 2004, 25–27, 194–196). Just as in the cases of ‘religion’ and ‘ritual’, ‘magic’ is not a straightforward term with a fixed meaning (see e.g. Kieckhefer 1994), but its use is quite suitable when handled skilfully (see e.g. Gilchrist 2008). Rational ritual As a critique towards seeing ritual as irrational and non-functional, some researchers have pointed out that there is a specific rationality in ritual activity. As Jørgen Podemann Sørensen points out, rituals are actually designed to work (Sørensen 1993, 18). This insight to ritual has its roots with early fieldwork-oriented anthropologists, such as Bronisław Malinowski. He made a strong case for the rationality of ‘primitive man’ and the many functions of religion and, in particular, magic (Malinowski 1954 (1948), 17–92). Malinowski was still observing these practices ‘from far and above’ (Malinowski 1954 (1948), 90), but the ideas were part of a cultural relativist approach, where the meanings to the actors themselves were important (see e.g. Marcus & Fischer 1986, 19–25). In the fields of history and archaeology the idea of the rationality of ritual became visible during the 1990s. Richard Kieckhefer (1994, 814) argued that European medieval magic was to the users of it neither irrational nor nonrational, but essentially rational: it was believed to actually work and its workings were governed by specific principles. Magic fits well into this argument for rational ritual, since it is usually understood as a means to an end (see e.g. Malinowski 1954 (1948); Jarvie & Agassi 1967; Kieckhefer 1994). In the field of prehistoric archaeology, for example Joanna Brück (1999, 320–322, 325–328) has discussed the rationality of ritual action in its cultural context. 187 Interarchaeologia, 4 Since the historical practice of building concealments have, in the light of 19thcentury folklore, been a part of different magical acts, the relative rationality of these rituals is easily recognised (see also Hukantaival 2007, 70–71). In the folklore describing concealing objects in buildings a very specific purpose for the action is often given. For example, many of the concealments made in connection to the threshold of an animal-shelter have been done to protect the animals from witchcraft. In a context where witchcraft is seen as a real threat and tradition offers some well-known counter-measures against it, it is only very rational to use these countermeasures to protect the valuable livestock. One example of the folklore translates as follows: “A thunderbolt will prevent all of witches’ fiery arrows. Often when the cattle are thriving someone might envy the cattleluck. If one is not careful, the cattle will start to suffer and not be well. Old people used to put a thunderbolt under the threshold of the cowshed, since malicious powers could not enter over it.” (SKMT IV, 1, I 302§: translation from Finnish by the current author). Ritual and everyday life Another important point (touched upon above) to the study of building concealments is the notion that ritual and religion do not need to be distinct from everyday life. In the field of prehistoric archaeology, Richard Bradley (2003; 2005) has been discussing the importance of recognising ritual in domestic settings, but I will not go further into his material at this point. Instead, I will discuss this aspect of ritual as it is shown in Finnish folk religion of historical times, as it is a part of my own interests. 188 Based on the material from my research on building concealments it is clear that many everyday objects have been chosen for the rituals (see Hukantaival 2007, 67– 68; 2011, 45–49), a point that has also been noticed by other researchers (e.g. Falk 2008, 111–130). Objects such as knives, axes, scythes and sickles, nails and needles, and coins are recurring in the folklore material (see also SKMT IV, 1 and e.g. Talve 1997, 228–230). In the archaeological material whetstones are also present (Hukantaival 2011, 49; Falk 2008, 115). Not only can the concealed objects be everyday tools, but naturally also the context of the rituals is an everyday one, namely the domestic sphere. The concerns of the rituals are very ordinary as well, being connected to livelihood, health, and simply ensuring good luck in all endeavours. However, the question of ritual and everyday life is more complex than just noticing that they are often connected. Perhaps the first reaction to the critique against dividing the world into sacred and profane was a fear that if sacred and profane cannot be clearly distinguished it leads to a situation where everything is sacred and consequently nothing is sacred (see e.g. Malinowski 1954 (1948), 24). Malinowski (1954 (1948), 17–92) discussed this problem from the perspective of the Melanesian natives among whom he made his fieldwork in the early 20th century. He noticed that even though ritual and practical work were intimately connected, clear-cut distinctions were made in cases where solutions were sought from ‘mundane’ means of action as opposed to magical ones. The Melanesian natives used skills ‘guided by knowledge and reason’ to control conditions that were manageable in this manner. But the experiences of the natives also taught them that in spite of all efforts there were forces that could not be controlled in the same way. These forces could one year grant favourable weather and good Sonja Hukantaival crops and another year cause trouble and famine. Malinowski (1954 (1948), 27–30) noted that the natives employed magic to control these influences (and these only). So magic was basically a way to ‘control the uncontrollable’ aspects in life. It is particularly interesting that a very similar conclusion as the one reached by Malinowski (1954 (1948)) has recently been put forward by psychologists studying modern ‘superstition’ (e.g. Lindeman & Aarnio 2006). The confusing aspect that modern psychologists have encountered is that perfectly rational (modern, European, civilised4) people may simultaneously have irrational beliefs. These beliefs are connected to uncontrollable aspects in life and employ an intuitive mode of reasoning as opposed to an analytical one. This tendency to rely on intuitive thinking varies both between individuals and during the life of one individual (Lindeman & Aarnio 2006). Malinowski (1954 (1948), 29–30) argued that the difference between those skills based on what the psychologists call analytical thinking and those based on magic was quite clear to the natives and no confusion existed regarding this point. This was highly likely something that varied between individuals, but perhaps some kind of a shared understanding about this really was present. This point leads to the question of whether a similar difference was present in the minds of the people making concealments in buildings in my study area. In the light of the data collected so far (744 folklore cases and 88 actual finds of concealments in buildings) it seems likely that the act of concealing was seen as special and in some way different from See the discussion above. Unfortunately, these psychological studies are loaded with prejudiced attitudes towards their research subjects. more mundane actions. In the same time it was a part of everyday concerns: building work, health, caring for livestock, etc. At this point in my research, building concealments seem like a way of managing the otherwise uncontrollable aspects in life similar to the one Malinowski (1954 (1948)) observed in his studies. One folklore example illustrating the special features of the action translates as following: “One must take an egg of a favourite hen and with it circle one’s horses three times, and then catch a small pike and dig a trough under the threshold of the stable; put the egg into the mouth of the pike and the pike into the trough, and nail it shut with three alder nails. Then the horses will thrive in the stable” (SKMT IV, 1, I 132§: translation from Finnish by the current author). The ritual circling and repetitive use of the number three combined with other carefully selected elements (for example the use of alder wood, which is often used in Finnish folk magic; see also Hukantaival 2009, 353) shows that the action described in this example is deliberately made different from other types of action. Thus, the close connection between ritual and practical work in everyday life does not lead to a situation where everything and nothing is sacred (see also Koski 2011, 77–84 about the sacred in Finnish folk belief). This connection is complex and most likely dynamic, which makes discussing it all the more interesting for scholars. Same substance, new package? – Avoiding problematic terms 4 Because of critiques pointed at definitional problems of terms and the negative connotations they have picked up during their 189 Interarchaeologia, 4 use, suggestions have arisen to abandon the problematic terms altogether (see e.g. Douglas 1984 (1966), 66; Radcliffe-Brown 1952, for an anthropological discussion of the subject). Probably the best known archaeological example of this is Joanna Brück’s (1999) very relevant discussion about ritual. Brück argues that the whole concept of ritual and practical functions is fundamentally flawed since all action in prehistory is “likely to have been based on a logic for action and a model for the world very different to our own” (Brück 1999, 337). In Finland this idea has been approached from the point of view of relational ontology by Vesa-Pekka Herva and Timo Ylimaunu (2009) in their studies on the town of Tornio in the 17th century. They argue that folk beliefs are not to be combined with religious thinking and, in fact, they are not beliefs in the usual way the word is understood: “Rather, folk beliefs were inextricably embedded in the local mode of perceiving and engaging with the material world in everyday life” (Herva & Ylimaunu 2009, 234). It is easy to agree that folk beliefs are an integral part of overall understanding of the world and this understanding may be based on a logic that differ from the way the world is perceived in the present. However, to make discussion understandable about the things traditionally assigned to religion, Herva and Ylimaunu (2009, 235) use the term ‘special properties’ when discussing these elements. When inspecting the term ‘special’ one can easily understand that it must refer to something set apart from the ‘non-special’ or ‘normal’. As a matter of fact, as Goody (1961, 149) points out, the dichotomy of profane and sacred has often been equated with ‘normal’ and ‘things set apart from it’ (see also Anttonen 1996; 2000 about ‘sacred’ as a border category). Hence, in an attempt to use a more neutral term, what 190 easily happens is that the dichotomy that the writers are trying to avoid is still carried with the new term, but perhaps in a more masked form. As Mary Douglas (1984 (1966), 66) noted when discussing Radcliffe-Brown’s (originally published in 1939; here used 1952, 139) similar attempt to replace the term ‘sacred’ with ‘ritual’: “So RadcliffeBrown removed with one hand the barrier between sacred and secular, but put it back with the other.” Herva and Ylimaunu (2009, 235) emphasise that the term is meant only to make the discussion intelligible and is not intended to describe how people actually perceived and understood the world around them. On the other hand this same argument could have been made in regards to the terms ‘religion’ or ‘ritual’ just as well. The matter being discussed here is connected with the debate whether we should use etic or emic categories in our studies. These terms are used in anthropology and social sciences to distinguish between the categories of the outsider researcher (etic) and those of the insider researched (emic) (see Headland et al. 1990). Ultimately, Brück’s (1999) critique is aimed at the etic use of ‘ritual’ when discussing action in the past. On the one hand, since we always look at the past from an outsider view, it is natural for archaeologists to use etic terms and categories in our studies; on the other hand, we then force our own views on past societies in a colonialist manner. But this same violence is done if we claim that the society under study did not distinguish between the sacred and profane without any strong evidence for the case. Archaeologists cannot reach the emic view quite in the same way as anthropologists studying living societies might. Still, we should always remember that we are outsiders, and the people we study might not have been able to recognise themselves from our texts if they ever had any chance to read them. Sonja Hukantaival Naturally, the above-mentioned researchers are not alone in trying to avoid the problems of terms by using more neutral expressions. Some choose to use terms that completely erase any connection to religion or ritual. One example of this is the term ‘associated bone group’ (ABG) used for depositions of animals (e.g. Morris 2008). This is a good starting point, but quickly becomes useless when further interpretations about the meanings of the depositions are needed. An example where the change of terms has been fruitful is connected to my own study-interest of ritual building concealments. Anne Carlie (2004, 17–18) in her book on prehistoric building concealments in southern Scandinavia, discusses how the traditional term for building concealments have in many languages involved the term offering or sacrifice. Since these are terms that usually refer to a quite specific act of giving a gift to a ‘supernatural’ being (see e.g. van Baaren 1964), and nothing indicates that all the concealments are always such gifts, it has been suitable to adopt terms with broader meanings. Avoiding terms can be very justifiable (for instance avoiding the old use of terms like ‘savage’ or ‘primitive’ when discussing indigenous peoples), but the need is not quite as pressing to invite new terms for religion, ritual, and magic. And the invention of new terms was certainly not what Brück had in mind when she suggested jettisoning ritual, as a careful reading of her paper shows (Brück 1999). Nevertheless, in reality it still appears too difficult to discuss different aspects of past life without using some (etic) descriptive terms (see also Bell 2007), as the above example by Herva and Ylimaunu (2009) illustrates. It also seems that the motivation for avoiding terms like ‘religion’ and ‘ritual’ in discussions about the past might sometimes be connected to the common notion that archaeologists of a secularised world feel uncomfortable to discuss religious matters (see e.g. Insoll 2004b; Whitley 2008). In my opinion, it is far more important to both understand what we mean when we use the terms and to be able to communicate this meaning further to our readers than to try to use euphemisms for every problematic term. The challenge – dynamic categories “The real problem with the term ‘ritual’ is that as an abstract idea it has proved to be very difficult to define, although many have tried” (Morris 2008, 93). The quote above is a very accurate observation of the crux of the problem that scholars encounter when discussing both ritual and religion more broadly. Basically, the problem lies within language and semantics. Language represents reality through symbols and can never include the whole complexity of it, and as has been pointed out: “We are all mistaken in our common belief that any word has an ‘exact meaning’” (Whorf 1952, 179). Yet, language is the only tool we have in this case, so the problem is not likely to disappear unless we learn to look at terms and categories in another way. I will return to this challenge shortly. If we accept the above-mentioned observations by psychologists that humans use both analytical and intuitive thinking, and matters of religion are connected to the intuitive part, another point can be seen in the problem. In science and academia analytical thinking is dominating and thus we must use this type of reasoning also when discussing matters of an intuitive nature. This is why it may seem that something is always missing from our understanding of the phenomena in question (see e.g. Insoll 2004a, 19–20, 150). 191 Interarchaeologia, 4 This notion of analytical and intuitive thinking leads us back to the dichotomy of sacred and profane. It should be remarked here that the studies by the psychologists in question (Lindeman & Aarnio 2006) were made among modern western people. It may well be that a similar division of thinking is not found in every culture. The notice of a comparable division among the natives in Malinowski’s (1954 (1948)) studies may also be influenced by the cultural context of Malinowski himself. Nevertheless, a possibility that the separation of thinking does exist outside modern western culture is still not to be excluded. As noted, there is insufficient evidence to establish a universal conception of the two clearly distinguishable domains of sacred and profane (e.g. Goody 1961, 151). However, as Goody (1961, 151) also points out: “It does not necessarily destroy the utility of these categories as analytical tools if it proves possible to isolate objective criteria for their use.” Observations of history of thought suggest that people in general seem to have a tendency to move from one extreme to another. This can of course be a simplification made by the historians to emphasise main trends, but still it is founded in reality. Thus, it may be that the critique aimed at the claimed universality of the distinction has led to dispose of it even in situations where it could have been justified. Another point of the critique against the concepts of ‘sacred’ and ‘profane’ can be seen as aimed at the sharpness of the distinction. Malinowski’s (1954 (1948), 27– 30) point was that in the culture he studied the sacred was intertwined with the profane, but was still considered a separate thing. This point is closely connected to the nature of categories in general. For example, the folklorist Kaarina Koski (2011, 110–115) has adopted a prototype theory of categories (launched by Eleanor Rosch in the 1970s) in her studies about elements 192 of Finnish folk belief. Unlike a classic model of categories, where the borders of the category is set by a collection of criteria that a member of the category must include, the prototype theory allows for dynamic categories without strict borders (Koski 2011, 110–112; referring e.g. to Rosch 1977). The prototype theory is based on the notion that humans naturally categorise on the basis of analogies. An object is recognised as a member of a category based on its similarity to a prototype of the category rather than by checking a list of criteria (Rosch 1977, 20–26). This allows for the borders of the categories to be blurry and negotiable (Koski 2011, 110–112; and references). It can feel uncomfortable for scholars to accept terms and categories that are dynamic, but this kind of undistinguished view correlates with reality more closely than classical abstract categories with strict sets of criteria (Koski 2011, 112). I believe that this could be a good strategy for archaeologists who deal with definitional problems of terms, to see if it can be useful for us as well. In practice, this kind of categorisation may well be unconsciously used by many of us already, since it is natural for human cognition. However, the problem arises when this unconscious process is tried to fit into strict abstract frames in academic discussion. In any case, we should not be paralysed by the definitional problems of terms. As Catherine Bell (2007, 283) reminds us: “No field ever moves forward because a good number of people agree on the definition of some central concept that then allows them to get down to work.” Conclusions: the problem of dividing the world Even though the order of the titles in this paper roughly follow a chronological order of the development of attitudes Sonja Hukantaival towards religion and ritual and their relation to everyday life, this development has in reality not followed any particular timeline. The ideas about how religion should be perceived are developed in other disciplines (anthropology, social sciences, etc.) and the influences are usually not adopted in archaeology at the same speed. Archaeologists are also not always able to follow the intense discussion and critique conducted within these other disciplines and therefore some outdated ideas may linger long within our interpretations. One interesting example of this can be found in the USA, where a colonialist attitude has been very strong. According to Christopher C. Fennell there has been a tendency to interpret all buildings where ritual building concealments have been found as the houses of people of non-European (mainly African) origin. Traces of magic and other ritual activity have been seen as ‘ethnic markers’. Only very recently has it been pointed out that similar practices have been well-known in Europe as well (Fennell 2000, 281, 304). This shows that the attitude of rational Europeans and irrational ‘others’ still has a foothold in academic thought. The discussion about the possible negative connotations carried with our key terms is thus very relevant indeed. Some negative connotations may also be the reason why religion still is a marginalised research topic despite its obvious influence on human behaviour (see e.g. Whitley & Hays-Gilpin 2008; Whitley 2008). Archaeology is always reflecting broader trends in society, but the attitudes of archaeologists are not only influenced by this wider context of the observer (see e.g. Insoll 2004b, 4–5) but naturally also by individual preferences and autobiography. It has been argued here that the main problem of the concepts ‘religion’ and ‘ritual’ are actually connected to the restrictions of language and definitions made by classic strict categorisation. Thus, instead of a need to abandon problematic terms I would suggest a different, more dynamic, approach to the definitions of them. This view seems to be best suited for my particular research interest, at least. Goody (1961, 143) points out that the process of defining adequate categories has caused enormous polemical problems in all branches of comparative social science. Discussions have arisen about the nature of terms like ‘family’, or of legal, political, and economic institutions, and about how the connotations of these concepts affect the interpretations of researchers. Perhaps I am mistaken, but it seems to me like such extensive discussions have not been made in other fields of archaeology except in connection to questions of religious nature. In any case, archaeologists of religion and ritual should not be discouraged by the problematisation of the key terms, but should rather be pleased that such discussion exists, and terms and concepts are not taken as given without questioning. 193 Interarchaeologia, 4 References Ahlbäck, T. (ed.) 1993. The Problem of Ritual. Åbo Akademi, Turku. Anttonen, V. 1996. Ihmisen ja maan rajat. ‘Pyhä’ kulttuurisena kategoriana. Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, Helsinki. Anttonen, V. 2000. 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