15 Archaeology Is Anthropology Susan D. Gillespie, University of Florida Rosemary A. Joyce, University of California, Berkeley Deborah L. Nichols, Dartmouth College A rchaeology is anthropology? A difficulty that arises from parsing this declaration is the polyvalencies of both "archaeology" and "anthropology," as well as the multiple possibilities for constructing a relationship among them. Most often this phrase has connoted the meaning of archaeology as a subfiekl or specialty, one part of the multi-subfield discipline of anthropology. A related construal therefore derives more simply from the resulting institutional arrangement: many archaeologists are housed in anthropology departments and hold advanced degrees in anthropology. However, the relationship has also historically been treated as archaeology trying to be something it cannot or should not be, another discipline with different objectives and methods or, if not another discipline entirely, archaeology in a wholly dependent and inferior relationship with anthropology. Finally, there is an ideal of anthropology as a field of study whose practitioners address questions that touch on all aspects of humankind—cultural and biological, social and material, past and present— and thus must incorporate archaeology as an integral component. This last was the original vision of anthropology, perhaps always more a "worldview" than an operating paradigm (Givens and Skomal 1993:1), and it is becoming increasingly unrealized, if, in fact, it ever existed (e.g., Borofsky 2002). Many who argue that archaeology is anthropology do so from this idealized position and ask why we cannot work together on these "big questions" of human experience that are so crucial to understanding and ameliorating current conditions and participate in bringing about a better collective future. In contrast, those who argue for autonomy primarily advocate an institutional change affecting academic infrastructures, so that archaeology can become a selfcontained university department. They do not generally favor steering American archaeology away from its traditional research foci, which are grounded within anthropology; indeed, some seem to argue that such autonomy is necessary because the discipline of anthropology has itself moved away from its founding principles, particularly the importance of recognizing the entirety of human diversity, cross-cultural generalizations, long-term processes, and the role of materiality. British archaeologist Chris Gosden (1999:2) said of Phillips's famous declaration, "Not to define archaeology in its own terms appears intellectually lazy, bad academic politics and lacking in disciplinary self-confidence." But, he went on to note, on the contrary, it is not a question of giving up one's disciplinary identity or admitting to some inferiority but of acknowledging the wider intellectual field of which archaeology is a part (Gosden 1999:2). Another way to interpret this statement is to recognize that anthropology is as completely exemplified by archaeology as it is by any of the other subfields. In this sense, archaeology is anthropology as a peer of other subdisciplines. This was the perspective of the 1950s archaeology within which Phillips made his statement (e.g., Phillips 1955; Strong 1952; Taylor 1983 [1948]; Willey and Phillips 1958), although too often in the context of having to explain this point to unsympathetic or unconvinced colleagues. Taking this view, we can look at the question sideways and ask: What kind of anthropology is archaeology? We do not have to fall back upon the historical roots of New World anthropology for an answer. That history aside, archaeology is precisely the kind of anthropology called for by contemporary social theory. Archaeology is an anthropology concerned with history and the material world, both on a grand scale and in its study of the way that individual practices are transformed into structure (so that what we see archaeologically is patterned, not chaotic). It is an anthropology intimately engaged with issues that matter in contemporary settings, such as the realization of identities at multiple scales and the possibilities for integrating academic study and applications with policy and practice (e.g., Meskell 2002). In this sense, archaeology is a model for other 156 Susan D. Gillespie, Rosemary A. Joyce, and Deborah L. Nichols branches of anthropology—a site where specific disciplinary concerns become visible to the public and where anthropologists can speak to the public about how to think about culture, society, and their continuities and disjunctions. In the first part of this chapter we respond to the intellectual and practical factors raised in the Introduction (Chapter 1) as arguments for the separation of archaeology from anthropology, summarizing key points made by the contributors. These views are supplemented with additional perspectives as we attempt to assess—in the conscious role of anthropologists—the larger issues of institutional settings, societal imperatives, factional conflicts, history, values, discourse, and action. We conclude with a glimpse into our potential futures and ask for a greater commitment from archaeologists and other anthropologists to work together to address these longstanding, complex, and critical concerns. Second, Americanist anthropology ceased to be constrained by the Boasian project quite some time ago, prior to the growth of most separate, four-field anthropology departments (e.g., Patterson 1999:163). Early archaeologists and ethnographers divided their joint investigations into the culture history of non-Western societies between those of the present and those of the past (e.g., Dixon 1913:558; Steward 1942:341), creating a division of labor thereby (Gosden 1999:205). One of the products of these explorations, and the one perhaps most valued by the public, has been culture historical knowledge. By the early 1960s, however, ethnographers had mostly abandoned historical reconstructions to functionalism, leading Elman Service (1964:365) to note that archaeologists alone would have to continue this important work. Although they could no longer obtain ethnographic information from their colleagues down the hall, they "could go to the library" (Service 1964:365). But already by that time, Gordon Willey and Philip Phillips (1958) and their contemporaries had broken with Boasian culture history, turning toward generalizations and evolutionary concerns (Gosden 1999:4). They sought to expand the scope of archaeological problems and issues from mere typology as "history" to the examination of patterns, regularities, and evolutionary questions on a global scale (see also Strong 1952:321; Taylor 1983 [1948]). And Lewis Binford (1962) had already published his call for a functional, anthropological archaeology in his "Archaeology as Anthropology." "History" has been a cornerstone of the on-again, off-again, relationship between archaeology and ethnography. When British archaeologist Grahame Clark (1957:25) declared that the aim of archaeology is to comprehend "history in its broader evolutionary connotation...which comprehends the whole story of mankind in society," he was using the term history synonymously with anthropology as used by some American archaeologists of that time, such as William Duncan Strong (1952:320) in his definition of anthropology as "the study of man and culture in time and space" (see also Taylor 1983 [1948]:28). That is, the ultimate goals of the archaeology-as-history and archaeology-as-anthropology adherents were not actually dissimilar. However, American anthropologists pursued a narrow view of "history" as particularizing or ideographic, in opposition to generalizing and nomothetic "science"—read "anthropology" (e.g., Kluckhohn 1940; Steward 1949; Taylor 1983 [1948]). It was the presumed science-history dichotomy, "a question that has vexed philosophers ever since the emergence of anthropology as a field of study," that Phillips (1955:247) was addressing in his assertion Intellectual Factors The Historical Argument The argument that archaeology became part of anthropology only for historical reasons specific to the Americas—and thus we should not remain bound together simply for this reason—is often repeated, but it ignores several key facts. The first is that the links between archaeology and anthropology were also once strong in British anthropology as well (Gosden 1999); the "uniqueness" of New World archaeology's historical relationship to anthropology has too often been overemphasized. Moreover, some British archaeologists have explicitly called for greater dialogue and cooperation between archaeology and anthropology to overcome the absence in the United Kingdom of an institutional academic structure that places both fields in the same department (e.g., Gosden 1999; Spriggs 1977; see also British social anthropologist lngold's [1992] remarks as editor of Man on the unity of archaeology, physical anthropology, and social anthropology; see Fox, this volume). According to Gosden (1999:8), "In Britain there is currently a closeness between archaeology and anthropology which has not been seen since the later nineteenth century when the two disciplines were one, within an overall evolutionary framework....In North America, by and large, the opposite has happened, especially as far as prehistoric archaeology is concerned." In other words, the chasm that now seems to loom large separating archaeology from anthropology is as much a product of our history as the closeness that we once felt (correctly or not) to exist. Archaeology Is Anthropology that archaeology should consider itself as anthropology rather than as the alternative, history, with "its ultimate purpose [being] the discovery of regularities that are in a sense spaceless and timeless" (Phillips 1955:247). He nevertheless recognized that anthropology was "a hybridization of science and history" (Phillips 1955:247), standing with one foot in the sciences and one in history (Kroeber 1935:569; see also Terrell, this volume). In explicitly declaring that archaeology should be anthropology, archaeologists of the mid-twentieth century therefore were not simply falling back on a much earlier tradition of culture history's alignment of ethnography with archaeology; on the contrary, they were rejecting it. But in the process archaeology moved in a particular direction, one that would reinforce schisms within archaeology itself and ultimately between archaeology and the rest of anthropology in the United States— but not in the United Kingdom (Trigger 1989:316). A dichotomy between history and science is inevitably false (Trigger 1989:373), a construal that misrepresents both by restricting them to extremely narrow semantic and explanatory fields and one that, for example, disallows the existence of historical sciences (e.g., Dunnell 1982; Green 2000). Despite a disciplinary history in which "science" once superceded "history," today many archaeologists are now actively seeking to integrate history and archaeology (e.g., Boyd et al. 2000) to attain a more holistic perspective of archaeology as "the anthropology of longterm history" (Green 2000:127, emphasis added); it is also the contribution of the "long term" that cultural anthropologist Thomas Barfield emphasizes in his chapter in this volume. Contemporary archaeological approaches to the past and to history have become fundamentally anthropological (contra Leach 1977:167), advanced by our conscious awareness, as anthropologists, of how our contemporary Western attitudes and understandings bias our constructions of the past (e.g., Knapp 1996). Significantly, rather than being satisfied with documenting sequences of events, archaeologists (and not just those trained within anthropology) have tried to create new ways to think about how different aspects of social existence would have affected individuals and groups, constraining some developments while enabling others (e.g., Trigger 1991). It would be ironic indeed if, at the very moment that archaeologists from more "historical" traditions in other parts of the world are employing such anthropological archaeological themes as the household (Allison 1999), archaeologists brought up in this tradition— one that legitimizes such social issues—were to abandon it. 157 For their part, many contemporary sociocultural anthropologists are utilizing historical data and employing historical approaches in their research (see Hill, this volume), to the point that Maurice Bloch (2001:293) recently declared "the old distinction between anthropology and history has by now completely disappeared." Historical archaeology is also contributing a great deal to this joint enterprise (Majewski, this volume). Again, given these developments it is ironic that some archaeologists continue to argue for archaeology to separate itself from anthropology because archaeology elsewhere is allied instead with the discipline of history. The "historical" argument for why American archaeology should leave anthropology—as if this association reflects nothing more than an adherence to an obsolete disciplinary legacy— does not correspond with the increasingly common usage of anthropological perspectives by nonanthropologically trained archaeologists or of historical perspectives by sociocultural anthropologists. The Methodological Argument Methodology has never been sufficient as a base for an academic discipline. Walter Taylor (1983 [1948]:44) famously declared that archaeology was an "autonomous discipline [that] consists of a method and a set of specialized techniques for the gathering or 'production' of cultural information." He went on to say, however, that for the interpretation of those data, the archaeologist must "become" something else—preferably an anthropologist. Barfield (this volume) reiterates this point when he states that an anthropological "archaeology is not primarily the study of excavated material remains, but the study of human beings in the past by means of this material." The methods, techniques, and equipment used by archaeological researchers—drawn from cultural studies and art history at one end of the spectrum and physics and chemistry at the other—are significant only in the service of specific research questions, and these come out of the history of disciplinary debates concerning what constitutes explanation in a particular field of study (see Armelagos, this volume). For example, the sheer data obtained from chemical analysis of the skeletal remains of a Classic Maya noblewoman serve very different ends if they are viewed as historical evidence of the life of an organism or if they are part of a complex exploration of variation in human diet between classes or genders, within an elite group, or across a region. Furthermore, our sister subfields also share many of their specific methods and techniques with other disciplines, including participant-observation, language elicitation, and 158 Susan D. Gillespie, Rosemary A. Joyce, and Deborah L. Nichols molecular analysis of bone. They, too, must cope with the same tensions as do archaeologists concerning where their disciplinary identities and objectives are best served. This is not a problem unique to archaeology. In asserting that our methodologies sufficiently render us distinct disciplines, this argument also presumes that there is little methodological sharing across the subfields, a presumption that is refuted by such intradisciplinary endeavors as ethnoarchaeology and bioarchaeology. For example, the critical use of ethnographic analogy in archaeological interpretations has long been highlighted as an area where more communication between archaeologists and ethnographers is needed, not less: "There has been such a strict division of labor between archaeology and ethnology that undoubtedly each has been handicapped in many respects by isolation from the other" (Service 1964:364). It may more often seem to be the case that archaeologists are chided for their ignorance of ethnology and ethnography (Barfield, Terrell, this volume); Edmund Leach's (1973, 1977) caustic remarks to this effect were said to have "set back relations between the disciplines considerably" (Gosden 1999:7). But by the same token archaeologists are rightfully wary of naive projections of ethnographic descriptions onto archaeological materials (e.g., Binford 1981; Deetz 1972:114; Groube 1977:87; Renfrew 1978:94; Wobst 1978; see Terrell, this volume). If only archaeologists and sociocultural anthropologists were more familiar with one another's methods, materials, and objectives, there could be much more productive and useful exchanges of information (which seem to be more frequent with our bioanthropological colleagues). Commitment to shared goals should "witness an end to a kind of intellectual apartheid that has characterized anthropology for so long" (Deetz 1988:22). Unfortunately, the reality is that use of different methods of analysis accounts for some of the incomprehension of archaeological work by sociocultural anthropologists in particular, which is repeatedly cited as a source of tension and as a spur to separation. As noted in the introductory chapter, increasing specialization has definitely diminished our ability to communicate across the discipline. It points to a need for archaeologists to educate colleagues about the way methods unique to our fieldwork situation should be viewed and judged, and it requires good faith efforts by non-archaeology anthropologists to accept that these involve as much subtlety and sophistication as participant-observation. There are real differences in subdisciplinary culture that seem to be differentially depreciated in such dismissive characterizations of archaeology as "stones and bones" or as "data-poor" (the latter characterization ignoring the fact that archaeologists typically require large facilities to store their "data"!). Archaeologists have probably done a better job of keeping alive a sense of the actual work of ethnography, perhaps because the field has treated ethnography as the defining practice for even the subaltern archaeologists. In that respect, it seems much more likely that archaeologists will speak the language of sociocultural anthropology than the reverse. But here it should be admitted that archaeologists may contribute to intradisciplinary tension by their own wariness about new ethnographic sites and subjects. Yet other diverse disciplines, notably psychology (with its fundamental divide between clinical and experimental approaches), have been able to reach a position that accepts methodological diversity as a strength. Anthropology, especially reflexive anthropology, should be able to achieve as much (see Terrell, this volume), but it more often has the opposite effect. The point to be made here is that the "holism" of anthropology as characterized by the integration of different subfields—each most significantly differentiated by specific methods—was also once hailed as its strength, but it is now considered a fundamental problem and a rationale for dispersal. Interestingly, arguments have been made that once separate departments of archaeology are created, the "potential for easy communication with anthropologists, classicists, art historians, and faculty of other departments and programs will continue to exist. Indeed, it has been suggested that the ease of communication might even be enhanced, especially where disagreements about curriculum and programmatic aims have developed into bitter professional hostilities" (Wiseman 2001:12). In light of this last argument it is helpful to understand some of the rationale for the founding of the two best known Departments of Archaeology—at Calgary University and Boston University—by Richard MacNeish and James Wiseman, respectively. Both men were motivated in part as a result of negative experiences they suffered as graduate students at the University of Chicago in the 1940s and 1950s. At that time MacNeish and Wiseman were strongly discouraged from taking courses outside of their respective departments (Anthropology and Classics), a prohibition that they rightly viewed as detrimental to their training as archaeologists; their departments expected them to become, respectively, an anthropologist and a classicist. The impact of this experience was apparently instrumental in their later designs of academic departments where archaeologists could more legitimately obtain the methodological skills and Archaeology Is Anthropology knowledge needed for archaeological practice, instead of, in MacNeish's words, being "forced to take courses in linguistics, phonemics, and other useless subjects such as Radcliffe-Brown's theory of kinship, all of which were rammed down my throat, none of which connected with anything I was interested in, and I wasn't at all sure that any of that stuff was true" (in Ferrie 2001:719; see Wiseman 1983). But we must ask, first, given this specific argument for why we need our own departments, whether the same situation restricting graduate students from taking courses in related fields applies today. It is still a problem in some universities (mentioned by Majewski, this volume), yet many graduate departments actually require their students to pursue minors or take cognate courses from other departments. Second, if the major problem we are experiencing now is our inability or unwillingness to talk to colleagues within our own department, how is it going to be any easier to talk to them when they are no longer in our department—when we do not constantly interact with them on graduate and department committees or in planning curricula (e.g., Lees 2002)? The Theoretical Argument For many archaeologists, whether archaeology should continue a relationship with anthropology has depended ultimately on the argument stated so succinctly by Phillips (1955) that archaeologists should utilize anthropological theory. If archaeologists and other anthropologists no longer share theoretical perspectives that frame common research goals or bedrock concepts such as "culture" (e.g., Flannery 1982; Watson 1995), then the rationale for being identified as members of the same discipline disappears. We seem to be facing such a turning point. A version of the science-history dichotomy is still with us, rewritten as the older science-humanism polarity (Anderson, Barfield, Clark, this volume) or more often now as science-antiscience (Clark, this volume). However, the tables have turned, and it is archaeologists who are more often on the side of science against sociocultural anthropology, as Geoffrey Clark (this volume) observes. This polarization has greatly impacted anthropology, but, as Barfield (this volume) notes, it is biological anthropology that has most notably cleaved off (or in some cases has been cleaved off), most often to join existing biology or anatomy departments, so perhaps their departure has not gained the attention that the move to create new departments of archaeology has garnered. Furthermore, this polarization has impacted the other social and human sciences, in that it is embed- 159 ded in the postmodern turn (Barfield, Clark, this volume; Knapp 1996). Some archaeologists have argued vociferously in favor of "archaeology as science" as a reason for archaeology to abandon an increasingly nonscience-oriented anthropology (e.g., Binford, in Wiseman 2001:11) or at the very least to save archaeology from the fragmentation that other disciplines are experiencing (Clark, this volume). This stance dismays similarly autonomy-minded archaeologists trained in the humanities, with whom they presumably would share a single Department of Archaeology (e.g., Wiseman 2001:11). Other archaeologists, however, take the position that "a holistic knowledge of what has happened to specific groups in the past is a matter of great humanistic as well as scientific interest" (Trigger 1989:376). As Earle and Armelagos (this volume) observe, the postprocessual or antiprocessual critiques provide important correctives even to such overtly scientific fields as bioarchaeology. Clark (this volume), who argues for a scientific archaeology, nevertheless opens his chapter with his own biases and discusses the emotive aspects of anthropology—how it touches on the human psyche. As noted in various chapters, the research of sociocultural anthropologists engaged with hermeneutics, phenomenology, alterity, hegemony, discourse, and the like has greatly diverged from the focus of the dominant processual archaeology. This was not a uniform split, however, and strong reciprocal relationships between archaeology and sociocultural anthropology have continued in some areas, as in economic anthropology (Earle, this volume), and emerged in others, such as the social construction of landscape, ethnicity, colonialism, and gender (Majewski, this volume). Furthermore, while it may be accurate to characterize contemporary sociocultural anthropology as largely nonmaterialist, antipositivist, and antievolutionary—recognizing that notable exceptions exist in leading departments—it is surely impossible to include archaeological diversity in a single materialist, positivist, and evolutionist definition. In fact, attempts to do so would not only greatly limit archaeology's potential (Anderson, this volume) but would also contribute to further archaeological fragmentation (Graves 1994). It is therefore important to note that the oft-mentioned division of Stanford's Anthropology Department into a Department of Anthropological Sciences and a Department of Cultural and Social Anthropology did not separate the subfields; there are archaeologists, sociocultural anthropologists, and linguistic anthropologists in both daughter departments (see Barfield, this volume). 160 Timothy Earle (this volume), who favors a sciencelike archaeology, considers that the postmodern critique in anthropology and archaeology has proven valuable, if contentious, and the appropriate response is not to abandon anthropology; rather, archaeologists should see themselves as central to the discipline. Archaeology is not only essential to the comparative and historical perspectives that help define anthropology's distinctiveness, it is the only avenue to the study of the greatest diversity of human cultural expressions, most of which existed only in the past. Anthropologists from the other subfields—sociocultural (Barfield), biological (Armelagos), and linguistic (Hill)—echo this theme in their contributions. All three argue for a stronger mutual relationship between archaeology and their respective subdisciplines. Barfield reiterates how sociocultural anthropology is a rich source of ethnographic description, theory, and model building for archaeologists, providing a nuanced example from his and others' work among Afghan nomadic pastoralists. At the same time, both he and Hill point out that archaeology provides sociocultural anthropology with the necessary time depth for explanations of change (see also Ortner 2001), which are essential to understanding not only the past but also the present. This last point is well illustrated by George Armelagos (this volume), who shows how bioarchaeology and an evolutionary perspective contribute to understanding two major contemporary health issues: malnutrition and disease. In succinctly making the case for the importance of socioeconomic factors in human evolutionary development relating to diet, Armelagos provides an important lesson: the "backward-looking" perspective of long-term archaeology within a broad anthropological perspective provides a powerful tool for understanding the present and future of human populations, "Us" as well as the "Other." John Terrell's chapter posits sociocultural anthropology and archaeology as "two sides of the same coin"— convergent rather than complementary disciplines. He uses the example of how the "Lapita Cultural Complex" of Oceania has been interpreted by archaeologists—as both an archaeological and a historical phenomenon— to highlight another key point of Phillips's (1955) original argument for archaeology as anthropology. Phillips noted that the work of archaeologists and ethnographers can converge when they employ the same "intelligible units of comparative study"; yet, this remains a stumbling block, as archaeologists are too often naive when they make ethnographic-like interpretations. Terrell re- Susan D. Gillespie, Rosemary A. Joyce, and Deborah L Nichols minds us of the obvious: "the past is (or was) a foreign place." Testing ethnographic and historical analogies remains an important method to counter the dangers of "commonsense" assertions unfortunately typical in archaeology that risk ignoring how different the past might have been (see also Barfield, this volume). The value of time depth for anthropology as a comparative discipline is not measured on an absolute scale but encompasses the more recent historical past, including industrial and postcolonial societies. Historical archaeology has undergone significant change in the late twentieth century, and its complementary use of historical and other material records offers much to anthropology broadly, especially as sociocultural anthropology develops a more sophisticated approach to history. Not only can historical archaeologists contribute to teaching history and historical methods in anthropology curricula, but also, as Teresita Majewski observes in her contribution, historical archaeologists are familiar with putting historic particulars within a regional or global system. The recent focus on colonialism, the expansion of capitalism, and postcolonial societies in historical archaeology resonates with current interests in sociocultural anthropology. Given this congruence, it is troubling to Majewski that her graduate students "rarely connect their background in general anthropology to their current interests." She argues that the potential of anthropologists engaged with history in the different subdisciplines cannot be realized unless programs in anthropology train students to be anthropologists first. In all these ways archaeology makes contributions to anthropological theory and knowledge, and this point should not be lost. Throughout much of our disciplinary history, ethnology was the driving force; archaeology merely reacted to whatever ethnographers were doing (Flannery 1967:119) and often only after a noticeable lag, whether it was compiling trait lists, assessing function, measuring ecological variables, interpreting symbols, or evaluating agency. Theory in sociocultural anthropology is still believed to represent "anthropological" or "ethnological" theory, so if their theories diverge too far from our archaeological concerns, then the feeling is that perhaps we should head for the door. But we should ask ourselves why only one of the subfields should continue—since Phillips's (1955) time—to set the theoretical agenda for the rest of us to follow. Biological anthropologists have not abandoned evolution; nor should archaeologists, as "Geoffrey Clark explains in his contribution, and they would do much better by first comprehending the profound differences between biological and cultural theories of evolution. Archaeology Is Anthropology Archaeologists who employ evolutionary perspectives should therefore "shed their defensive behavior and their inferiority complex" (Flannery 1983). Kent Flannery (1982:269), in his well-known "Golden Marshalltown" lecture, disclaimed the existence of "archaeological theory" in favor of "anthropological theory," but he went on to say, "If some ethnologists want to go their separate ways...well, fine, they can call themselves something else, and let us be the anthropologists" (Flannery 1982:277). It is archaeologists who have consistently asserted their link to anthropology, always in a context of contestation (e.g., in chronological order: Strong 1936; Taylor 1948; Meggers 1955; Phillips 1955; Binford 1962; Flannery 1982; Deetz 1988; Watson 1995). Ethnographers never have had to do so, taking for granted that they determined the direction of the discipline (and still do; e.g., Borofsky [2002:471 ]), but this is the issue raised by Flannery: why should we define ourselves in terms of what they do? As Richard Fox expresses in his commentary, once liberated from any such pronouncements of allegiance (and the anticipation of their rebuttal), we could get down to actual practice, and then we would discover how integrated the different subfields really are (see also Hill, this volume). One thing we would discover is that the old division of labor between research into the past (archaeology) and the present (sociocultural anthropology) is itself becoming a thing of the past. As noted above, ethnology has become more historical, and archaeology has turned its sights to the present. Historical archaeology has become a bridge between past and present (Majewski, this volume), and Majewski also cites the study of modern material culture, for example, Rathje's well-known Garbage Project, part of a trend that has actually blossomed more in the United Kingdom than in the United States (see Hill, Fox, this volume). Armelagos (this volume) details the need to understand current health and nutritional statuses as the product of long-term processes that began in the past, and the same is being recognized in analyses of contemporary environmental problems (Anderson, this volume; van der Leeuw and Redman 2002). There is still a negative balance between the use of archaeological knowledge by sociocultural anthropologists and the use of ethnological theory and ethnographic analogy by archaeologists, a reality noted by Barfield and Terrell (this volume) and reiterated in the various chapters that highlight Kirch and Sahlins's (1992) Anahulu as an exemplary study integrating archaeology, ethnography, and ethnohistory—exemplary in part because it is still so exceptional. This situation has more 161 to say about contemporary sociocultural anthropology than about whether archaeology is, at heart, an anthropological discipline, and Hill (this volume) discusses several areas where sociocultural and linguistic anthropology could benefit by paying more attention to archaeology. Contributing to anthropological theory (e.g., Binford 1962) therefore does not require us to limit ourselves to the theories employed by sociocultural anthropologists {contra Gumerman 2002), whose theoretical positions are typically far more heterogenous than archaeologists may believe (e.g., Haselgrove 1977:92). Archaeological theory and practice are also extraordinarily diverse, but are especially engaged in issues of long-term processes, cross-cultural comparisons, and the intersection of the social with the material world, as many of this volume's authors have observed (see also Hodder 2001). These major topics may not be central concerns in much current sociocultural anthropology (Earle, Barfield, Hill, this volume), but that does not make them any less anthropological. And there is nothing to stop archaeologists from using theories and perspectives drawn from other fields and utilizing them to frame anthropological research questions. For example, Gumerman (2002; also Gumerman and Phillips 1978) contends that because broad patterns of human behavior are also being investigated by other fields, such as evolutionary biology, archaeologists have been unnecessarily constrained by being part of the discipline of anthropology. However, van der Leeuw and Redman (2002:599) turn this argument around to give anthropology priority, stating that "archaeology and anthropology are ideally suited to make an invaluable contribution" to the investigation of long-term trends in human ecology and thereby "play an important role in the transformation of socio-natural studies" (van der Leeuw and Redman 2002:603). The interdisciplinarity and human-centered focus that are at the core of anthropology are what give us an edge in continuing to develop our discipline beyond its traditional boundaries. Even midlevel archaeological theory (e.g., site formation processes) can be seen as contributing therefore to a diverse body of anthropological theory, although there may be a need to consider balance in theorizing here as well. Indeed, one of the leaders in the development of independent archaeological theory, Michael Schiffer (2000:5), now believes that that process has gone too far and archaeology is better off building bridges in social theory. In all of these endeavors, anthropological archaeology can be a leader, rather than a follower. It can help the discipline to develop new lines 162 Susan D. Gillespie, Rosemary A. Joyce, and Deborah L. Nichols of inquiry and to tackle issues of more immediate and in some U.S. graduate departments. Ironically, anthropractical concern. pologists at community colleges and small liberal arts In sum, if the intellectual product that archaeology colleges may have greater freedom to engage the breadth seeks to provide is a systematic understanding of past of anthropology than do their more specialized countersocieties, then it is a social science (Deetz 1972; Trigger parts in large universities. Rather than view this situa1989:19), albeit one that incorporates humanistic endeav- tion as one of an intellectual disjuncture in the state of ors as well. Within the social and historical sciences, only anthropology between research and teaching institutions, anthropology opens itself to embrace the broadest span we suggest instead that smaller colleges may provide of human experience, from remote antiquity to the more exemplary models for intradisciplinary communipresent. And an anthropology that seeks explanations cation and the building of a sense of "community" (folinvolving "processes unfolding, intertwining, spreading lowing Doelle, this volume) within the entire discipline out, and dissipating over time," to quote the late Eric (see below). Wolf (1990:590), perforce needs archaeology, an archaeIndeed, far from creating divisions {contra Wiseman ology that is fundamentally anthropological. Understand- 2001:12), teaching provides another arena where archaeing change and the cultural diversity that results from ology and sociocultural anthropology have more in comchange is central to anthropology (Hill, this volume). mon with one another than is frequently presumed. As Archaeologists are therefore "true anthropologists, the Susan Gillespie explains in her contribution, socioculanthropologists who provide the time depth for human tural anthropology is experiencing a significant exexistence" (Barfield, this volume). pansion in its practicing or applied dimension, just like That this huge enterprise we call anthropology re- archaeology. In fact, some sociocultural anthropologists quires an intradisciplinary theoretical and methodologi- are looking to the experience of archaeologists in public cal diversity that at times threatens to explode should policy, professional accreditation, and similar areas as a not be surprising. But resolving the discord that stems model for the integration of academic and "real-world" from the inherent vastness of anthropology with a nar- training and practice, in the same way that archaeolorowed focus—separating into groups that independently gists can take lessons from their applied anthropology pursue one kind of explanation, one kind of methodol- colleagues (Doelle, this volume). Across the subdisciogy, or one kind of research question—is a solution that plines at both the undergraduate and graduate levels, simply does not advance either archaeology or the rest more in-depth discussion of the practice and ethics of of anthropology. anthropology is needed. In their chapters, Anderson and Gillespie challenge all anthropologists involved in education to act on their collective responsibility for the Practical Factors curriculum, and Majewski, representing historical archaeAs profound as our substantive intellectual differ- ology, also extols the value of anthropological training. ences may appear, they can sometimes seem far more Despite this potential for cross-subfield fertilization manageable than the more immediate practical and in- and communication, however, it often seems that acastitutional factors that are also driving a wedge between demic structures are exacerbating other forces of fragarchaeologists and fellow anthropologists. It remains to mentation, well out of proportion to their importance in consider how to surmount these difficulties. comparison with substantive, theoretical, methodological, and pedagogical factors (Anderson, Majewski, this volume). Graduate students and faculty are recruited and Educational and Institutional Structures graduated or tenured according to criteria that more often follow subfield rather than department-wide guideDespite the presumed impending implosion of anthropology, a four-field introductory course in anthro- lines, and it becomes increasingly difficult for those pology is still not uncommon in the United States, and whose research interests crosscut the subfields to find a many of us teach survey courses that introduce basic place. Transactionalist anthropology would explain this anthropological concepts that span the subfields. It may situation much like the operation of ethnicity—our cowell be that the holistic approach to anthropology is bet- presence in the same contexts foments an emphasis on ter represented in undergraduate than graduate curricula, the construction of difference, obscuring "what we share although core courses that span the subfields are not un- in common, which is too often taken for granted. But by usual even in the latter, but these efforts are often under- the same token, "there has been a subtle process of mumined by the marginalization of undergraduate teaching tual definition over the last century or more" between Archaeology Is Anthropology archaeology and sociocultural anthropology, as each has indelibly shaped the other (Gosden 1999:9-10). Barfield and Hill (this volume) mince no words in characterizing the segmentary factionalism that arises out of department demographics in which sociocultural anthropologists are usually in the majority and have too often come to use this fact to their own narrow subfield advantage, losing sight of the longer-term consequences on the department and the discipline (because of their presentist and self-oriented tendencies, according to Barfield). Archaeologists who face the material effects of marginalization within their own department on a neardaily basis will be more likely to question the feasibility of the status quo. They do not necessarily want to get out of anthropology—that is, deny the benefit of their own anthropological educations or cease to conduct anthropologically influenced research—they mostly just want to get out of anthropology departments. One might conclude that conflictual departmental power politics and the interpersonal tensions that result from them are simply being masked by an ideology that couches our differences in loftier terms of theoretical and methodological divides. In our opinion, these factors should not drive the development of the field and are insufficient justification to warrant reorganization of an entire discipline across the country. And as Barfield observed, new departments of archaeology would contain the seeds for their own segmentary factionalism. He notes that a more common solution has been the creation of semiautonomous subfield-specific wings within departments, which may alleviate some of the interpersonal problems while still allowing for cooperation and sharing within the anthropological umbrella. Such a structure should also be more flexible in accommodating the inevitable changes to our discipline. Wings can create walls or they can serve merely as administrative conveniences—it is up to the faculty who construct them to decide which. Archaeology in Practice The impact of the rapid growth of nonacademic or "practicing" (public, applied) archaeology—often overabbreviated under the rubric of cultural resource management—on both archaeology and anthropology as a whole cannot be downplayed. It introduced schisms among archaeologists and within archaeology departments (especially in the past, when most CRM work was done under university auspices) that remain with us today (see Clark, Anderson, Doelle, this volume). The polarities do not fall simply along an academic/nonacademic 163 or theory/practice divide, however. Even within CRM archaeology the feeling has been expressed that tkreal" archaeology has somehow been hijacked by a larger societal move that values instead historic preservation (e.g., Moore 2001). As Gillespie notes (this volume), the desire to better train archaeology students for nonacademic professions has introduced tensions within departments regarding curricular issues, to the point where a few (but not the majority) archaeologists have used this factor to promote separate departments of archaeology. However, seeing such curricular reform as a largely methodological or business issue implies that CRM archaeology has little to contribute to broad theoretical understandings of the human past, a view against which David Anderson and William Doelle (this volume) provide specific counterarguments. Indeed, the Anthropology Department at the University of Georgia, a department that emphasizes ecological and environmental anthropology, has taken the position that "the distinction between basic and applied research and development should be abandoned" (http://anthro.dac.uga.edu/ grad). Both academic and CRM archaeologists work in multiple communities and must comply with federal, state, and tribal regulations (Doelle, Ferguson, this volume). Clark (this volume) expresses the opinion of many academic archaeologists that the growing impact of nonacademic archaeology creates tensions that are fostering fragmentation, but altogether these chapters argue that the relationship between academic and CRM archaeology need not be adversarial but should be complementary. Furthermore, the value of anthropological archaeology to the nonacademic side of the profession has not gone unnoticed by its practitioners, despite the claims by some that archaeology students would be better off if trained in a department devoted to archaeology. Anderson, of the National Park Service, provides a highly personal account of the value of anthropology to CRM archaeology based on his own biography. His unabashedly proanthropology position is tempered by the second half of his chapter, which challenges the discipline of anthropology itself to reclaim its center and to tackle the complex global issues of environmental change and human welfare. These are issues to which archaeology can make direct contributions (see also van der Leeuw and Redman 2002). The utility of the range of knowledge represented by the breadth of anthropological training in CRM is further echoed by Doelle, who talks about the concept of community and the multiple communities of an archaeologist working in the private sector. His chapter and those by Rosemary Joyce and T. J. 164 Ferguson provide additional examples of the need for archaeologists to be attentive to multiple voices. The intersection of academic and public interests in archaeology appears most prominently in museum and site interpretation settings. Joyce draws on her experience as a museum curator and administrator to argue for the necessity for museum-based archaeologists to be anthropologists in the broadest sense. The fact that museums serve to interpret curated objects for diverse audiences requires that museum archaeologists understand how various persons or groups may construct identities and linkages among themselves via these objects, which are often seen as the material connection between the present and the past. Training in anthropology is fundamental to the ability to interact with the multiple stakeholders of the past. Ferguson more specifically considers settings where the findings of archaeology are important to descendant communities. The relationship between such groups and archaeologists (and other anthropologists) is uneasy; for some American Indians, archaeologists are little different from pothunters. Other Native Americans, as Ferguson discusses, have called for archaeologists to use their science to address contemporary needs and issues of Indian communities. Ferguson refers to this as "reciprocal archaeology," an archaeology based on a scientific approach to research and work products that are broadly anthropological and that consider the interests of Native American tribes and communities. Ferguson's examples from Hopi and Zuni show how a reciprocal archaeology can work in understanding traditional cultural places and cultural affiliation by incorporating an integrative anthropology and a scientific archaeology. His model addresses some of the concerns raised by Clark about the future of a science-like archaeology given the growth of CRM in the private sector and the current sociopolitics of archaeology. Unfortunately, the Hopi and Zuni Tribes' relationship with archaeology and archaeologists as described by Ferguson is more the exception than the rule. This situation may change, however, as more tribes develop their own archaeology programs and more Native Americans become involved in archaeology. Indeed, the increased practice of archaeology by indigenous peoples worldwide may contribute to a greater integration of archaeology and anthropology (e.g., Schmidt and Patterson 1996), and these peoples are playing an active role in reconfiguring disciplinary agendas. In other words, there are solutions to all of the manifold problems that have been raised in this regard, which require our diligence and effort to resolve them but which Susan D. Gillespie, Rosemary A. Joyce, and Deborah L. Nichols will not be improved by the separation of archaeology from anthropology. Instead, the practice of archaeology itself would suffer from such a move. Professional Affiliations It is important to recognize that the open debate for or against autonomy is being conducted virtually exclusively among archaeologists. This is why the 2000 symposium "Archaeology Is Anthropology" was presented at the Society for American Archaeology meeting; the future of archaeology is most obviously in the hands of professional archaeologists. Moreover, this volume's most immediate audience is the members of the Archeology Division of the American Anthropological Association, archaeologists who are ostensibly most willing to visibly identify themselves with or as anthropologists. AD members have also committed themselves to working within the larger association in which they are a minority and in recent years have seen their efforts rewarded by increasing numbers of archaeological articles in American Anthropologist, more archaeologists in AAA offices and committees, and a continuing growth in AD membership, especially among students. However, it would be wrong to conclude from this that there is a division in this debate that conforms to the membership of our professional societies (see Chapter 1), with the AAA-AD membership more likely to advocate continued affiliation with anthropology and the SAA membership more likely to desire autonomy. After all, the current SAA president, Robert Kelly, has gone on record in support of maintaining archaeology within anthropology departments (Kelly 2002a, 2002b); he has also served as an AAA-AD officer (and see the similar opinion expressed for the status of physical anthropology by Larsen [2002]). In addition, the archaeologist who has most vigorously advocated autonomy over the years, James Wiseman (1980a, 1980b, 1983, 1998,2001,2002), founder of Boston University's Department of Archaeology, is a Classical archaeologist, not among the "scientist" types whom Smith (2001) suggests compose the advocates for separation (see Chapter 1). As Clark (this volume) observes, the fact that so many archaeologists in this country were trained in anthropology departments provides a powerful factor— because it is often emotive—in the reluctance of some archaeologists to give up on anthropology. But it is therefore also the case that the majority of archaeologists who prefer to establish separate archaeology departments were trained as anthropologists. It is unlikely that they intend thereby to abandon the anthropological aspects of their Archaeology Is Anthropology research and practice, which for many of us has become so backgrounded that we may give it little conscious attention. On the other hand, if they succeed, then future generations of archaeologists may not be so fortunate. As imagined by Hill (this volume) and expressed by Gosden (1999:9): "Archaeology would not be impossible in the absence of anthropology, but it would be so radically reconfigured that it is impossible to know what it would look like. Slightly more surprisingly, the converse would also be true." On the latter thought, Earle (this volume) is more explicit, stating, "anthropology without archaeology would be impoverished." Furthermore, it is primarily academic archaeologists who are calling for a "divorce" from anthropology and who will ultimately decide which directions to take, and their decisions will impact the training of future archaeologists for both academic and, increasingly, nonacademic jobs. Certainly the rest of academic anthropology (and deans and provosts as well) needs to become engaged in the discussion, but it will involve most immediately the academy-affiliated archaeologists. A meaningful dialogue within archaeology and across the subdisciplines is long overdue. The Anthropology of Anthropology More is at stake here than a metaphysical discussion of why and how archaeology should be a part of anthropology, and vice versa. We are more broadly tackling the unsettling issue of the state and future of anthropology departments in this country. Like those who argue for "archaeology as archaeology," we agree that a "peaceful coexistence model"—in which all the subdisciplines continue to live together as if residents of the same boardinghouse but do not actually interact—cannot continue to serve as the basis for our discipline. In his commentary, Richard Fox challenges us to rethink our penchant to overuse pronouncements, especially the "or it is nothing" that is tacked onto declarations of what archaeology or anthropology should or must be. The research questions that face us today cannot be addressed by subdisciplinary loyalties or by an oath of allegiance to a four-, five-, or six-field anthropology. For many anthropologists, this is what anthropological "holism" represents—the mere co-presence of different subfields in departments or in "four-field" journals like American Anthropologist (Borofsky 2002). But a truly holistic anthropology is inclusive and integrates scholarship across the subdisciplines. Indeed, if a fundamental value of an anthropological background is the ability to work within diverse "communities" and to communi- 165 cate among groups and individuals with varying perspectives and worldviews, as explicitly argued here by Doelle, Ferguson, and Joyce, then it should not be so difficult for anthropologists representing the various subdisciplines to maintain their own "community" within departments, across the academic/nonacademic divide, and across the profession as a whole. Anthropologists need to become better anthropologists within their own communities. Instead of seeing holism and the methodological and theoretical specialization that it entails as a problem, or as represented only by the presence of multiple subfields in a single department, a number of archaeologists and other anthropologists realize that holism is still the key to anthropology's identity and its future when it is understood as dealing with all of human experience (e.g., Kelly 2002b: 13), with broad themes, issues, and interests that crosscut the subdisciplines (e.g., Borofsky 2002). As expressed by Patty Jo Watson, a leading archaeologist, in her Distinguished Lecture to the AAA-AD, "Anthropology is still the only human science all about humankind" (Watson 1995:690). It is best equipped to deal with the "big questions" raised also by Earle and Clark—Where do we come from? Where are we going?— and by Anderson and Armelagos in more specific formulations—compelling global issues of racism, warfare and genocide, identity politics, environmental degradation, climate change, population growth, poverty, nutrition and health, technological change, and landscape modification. These are among the major problems we are having to cope with in the present, but they also existed in the past. Our methodological and interpersonal differences are therefore of small import when we realize the potential for all the anthropological subfields to tackle common research objectives, the "big questions" that require multifaceted approaches that only anthropology is geared to deal with (e.g., Gosden 1999:205; Haselgrove 1977:92; Kelly 2002b: 14; Lees 2002:11). As for the future of multifield departments of anthropology, their days may well be numbered as an outdated paradigm for which many of us maintain an emotional attachment (Clark, this volume; Givens and Skomal 1993) but one that (our anthropological training tells us) will eventually succumb to evolutionary changes in academic structures and relationships. This prophecy was already made some years ago by Watson (1995:690), who, while regretting its likely realization, nevertheless proclaimed, I cannot get too worked up over the disintegration prediction. Anthropologists have been worrying about this for at least 40 years.... In spite of episodic skeptical cri- 166 Susan D. Gillespie, Rosemary A. Joyce, and Deborah L. Nichols ses within anthropology, and a chronic agoraphobia about where our center is and where our boundaries are, anthropology is still here...an undisciplined discipline, an unruly semi-aggregate, but one with research methods and research results of enormous global importance and great intrinsic interest. Clark, J. Grahame 1957 Archaeology and Society: Reconstructing the Prehistoric Past. 3rd ed., rev. London: Methuen. Deetz, James F. 1972 Archaeology as a Social Science. In Contemporary Archaeology: A Guide to Theory and Contributions. M. P. Leone, ed. Pp. 108-117. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. 1988 History and Archaeological Theory: Walter Taylor Revisited. American Antiquity 53:13-22. Even if archaeologists do split off from anthropology departments, the fact remains that "[anthropological thought is infused into all strands of archaeology" (Gosden 1999:9), and there will always be anthropology even in autonomous archaeology departments. Indeed, given that archaeology has always seemed the most integrative and holistic of all the subfields of anthropolDixon, R. B. ogy (Kelly 2002b: 13), one can just as easily imagine 1913 Some Aspects of North American Archaeology. departments of archaeology as the future of anthropolAmerican Anthropologist 15:549-577. ogy itself once all the subfields part their ways, because of its focus on integrating past and present, sciences and humanities, social processes and their material correlates, Dunnell, Robert C. 1982 Science, Social Science, and Common Sense: nature and culture—the big questions of who we are, The Agonizing Dilemma of Modern Archaeolwhere we came from, how we got here, and where we ogy. Journal of Anthropological Research are going. From this perspective—along with all the oth38:1-25. ers that have been discussed in this volume—we can more fully understand that archaeology is anthropology. Ferrie, Helke 2001 An Interview with Richard S. MacNeish. Current References Anthropology 42:715-735. Allison, Penelope, ed. 1999 The Archaeology of Household Activities. London: Flannery, Kent V. Routledge. 1967 Culture History versus Cultural Process: A Debate in American Archaeology. Scientific American Binford, Lewis R. 217:119-122. 1962 Archaeology as Anthropology. American Antiq1982 The Golden Marshalltown: A Parable for the Archeology of the 1980s. American Anthropologist uity 28:217-225. 84:265-278. 1981 Behavioural Archaeology and the "Pompeii 1983 Archaeology and Ethnology in the Context of Premise." Journal of Anthropological Research Divergent Evolution. In The Cloud People: Di37:195-208. vergent Evolution of the Zapotec and Mixtec Civilizations. K. V. Flannery and J. Marcus, eds. Bloch, Maurice Pp. 361-362. New York: Academic. 2001 The Ethnohistory of Madagascar. Ethnohistory 48:293-299. Givens, David, and Susan Skomal 1993 The Four Subfields: Myth and Reality. AnthropolBorofsky, Robert ogy Newsletter 34(5): 1,19. 2002 The Four Subfields: Anthropologists as Mythmakers. American Anthropologist 104:463-^80. Gosden, Chris 1999 Anthropology and Archaeology: A Changing ReBoyd, M., J. C. Erwin, and M. Hendrickson, eds. lationship. London: Routledge. 2000 The Entangled Past: Integrating History and Archaeology. Proceedings of the 30th Annual Chacmool Archaeological Conference. Calgary, Graves, Michael W. 1994 New Directions in Americanist Archaeology. Alberta: Archaeological Association of the UniAmerican Antiquity 59:5-8. versity of Calgary. Archaeology Is Anthropology 167 Green, Roger C. 2000 Trigger's Holistic Archaeology and Pacific Culture History. In The Entangled Past: Integrating History and Archaeology. M. Boyd, J. C. Erwin, and M. Hendrickson, eds. Pp. 127-137. Proceedings of the 30th Annual Chacmool Archaeological Conference. Calgary, Alberta: Archaeological Association of the University of Calgary. Groube, L. M. 1977 The Hazards of Anthropology. In Archaeology and Anthropology: Areas of Mutual Interest. M. Spriggs, ed. Pp. 69-90. BAR Supplementary Series, 19. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Gumerman, George J. 2002 Letter to the Editor. The SAA Record 2(4):3. Kluckhohn, Clyde 1940 The Conceptual Structure in Middle American Studies. In The Maya and Their Neighbors: Essays on Middle American Anthropology and Archaeology. C. L. Hay, R. L. Linton, S. K. Lothrop, H. L. Shapiro, and G. C. Vaillant, eds. Pp. 41-51. New York: Appleton-Century. Knapp, A. Bernard 1996 Archaeology Without Gravity: Postmodernism and the Past. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 3:127-158. Kroeber, Alfred L. 1935 History and Science in Anthropology. American Anthropologist 37:539-569. Archaeological Gumerman, George J., and David A. Phillips, Jr. 1978 Archaeology Beyond Anthropology. American Antiquity 43:184-191. Haselgrove, Colin 1977 After Civilization: Archaeology, Anthropology and the Study of Urbanism. In Archaeology and Anthropology: Areas of Mutual Interest. M. Spriggs, ed. Pp. 91-115. BAR Supplementary Series, 19. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Hodder, Ian 2001 Introduction: A Review of Contemporary Theoretical Debates in Archaeology. In Archaeological Theory Today. 1. Hodder, ed. Pp. 113. Cambridge: Polity. Ingold, Tim 1992 Editorial. Man 27:693-696. Kelly, Robert L. 2002a American Archaeology in 30 Years. Anthropology News 43(1 ):4. 2002b Counterpoint: Archaeology Is Anthropology. The SAA Archaeological Record 2(3): 13-14. Kirch, Patrick V., and Marshall Sahlins 1992 Anahulu: The Anthropology of History in the Kingdom of Hawaii. 2 vols. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Larsen, Clark Spencer 2002 The Tomb Is Still Empty: 30 Years Back and 30 Years Ahead in Physical Anthropology. Anthropology News 43(2):4-5. Leach, Edmund 1973 Concluding Address. In The Explanation of Culture Change: Models in Prehistory. C. Renfrew, ed. Pp. 761-771. London: Duckworth. 1977 A View from the Bridge. In Archaeology and Anthropology: Areas of Mutual Interest. M. Spriggs, ed. Pp. 161-176. BAR Supplementary Series, 19. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Lees, Susan 2002 Counterpoint: Separation versus a Larger Vision. The SAA Archaeological Record 2(3): 11-12. Meggers, Betty J. 1955 The Coming of Age of American Archaeology. In New Interpretations of Aboriginal American Culture History. B. J. Meggers and C. Evans, eds. Pp. 116-129. Washington, DC: Anthropological Society of Washington. Meskell, Lynn 2002 The Intersections of Identity and Politics in Archaeology. Annual Review of Anthropology 31:279-301. Moore, Lawrence E. 2001 The Misplaced Trowel. North American Archaeologist 22:387-^02. 168 Ortner, Sherry B. 2001 Commentary: Practice, Power and the Past. Journal of Social Archaeology 1:271-275. Patterson, Thomas C. 1999 The Political Economy of Archaeology in the United States. Annual Review of Anthropology 28:155-174. Phillips, Philip 1955 American Archaeology and General Anthropological Theory. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 11:246-250. Renfrew, Colin 1978 Space, Time and Polity. In The Evolution of Social Systems. J. Friedman and M. J. Rowlands, eds. Pp. 89-112. London: Duckworth. Schiffer, Michael Brian 2000 Social Theory in Archaeology: Building Bridges. In Social Theory in Archaeology. M. B. Schiffer, ed. Pp. 1-13. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Schmidt, Peter, and Thomas C. Patterson, eds. 1996 Making Alternative Histories: The Practice of Archaeology and History in Non-Western Settings. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research. Service, Elman R. 1964 Archaeological Theory and Ethnological Fact. In Process and Pattern in Culture: Essays in Honor of Julian H. Steward R. A. Manners, ed. Pp. 364375. Chicago: Aldine. Smith, Bruce D. 2001 The Transition to Food Production. In Archaeology at the Millennium: A Sourcebook. G. M. Feinman and T. D. Price, eds. Pp. 199-230. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum. Spriggs, Matthew 1977 Introduction—Where the Hell Are We? (Or a Young Man's Quest). In Archaeology and Anthropology: Areas of Mutual Interest. M. Spriggs, ed. Pp. 3-17. BAR Supplementary Series, 19. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Steward, Julian 1942 The Direct Historical Approach to Archaeology. Susan D. Gillespie, Rosemary A. Joyce, and Deborah L. Nichols American Antiquity 7:337-343. 1949 Cultural Causality and Law: A Trial Formulation of the Development of Early Civilizations. American Anthropologist 51:1-27. Strong, William Duncan 1936 Anthropological Theory and Archaeological Fact. In Essays in Anthropology (Presented to A. L. Kroeber in Celebration of His Sixtieth Birthday). R. H. Lowie, ed. Pp. 359-370. Berkeley: University of California Press. 1952 The Value of Archaeology in the Training of Professional Anthropologists. American Anthropologist 54:318-321. Taylor, Walter W., Jr. 1948 A Study of Archaeology. American Anthropological Association Memoir 69, pp. 5-263. Menasha, WS. 1983 [1948] A Study of Archeology [sic]. Center for Archaeological Investigations. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University. Trigger, Bruce G. 1989 A History of Archaeological Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1991 Constraint and Freedom: A New Synthesis for Archeological Explanation. American Anthropologist 93:551-569. van der Leeuw, Sander E., and Charles L. Redman 2002 Placing Archaeology at the Center of Socio-Natural Studies. American Antiquity 67:597-605. Watson, Patty Jo 1995 Archaeology, Anthropology, and the Culture Concept. American Anthropologist 97:683-694. Willey, Gordon R., and Philip Phillips 1958 Method and Theory in American Archaeology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wiseman, James 1980a Archaeology as Archaeology. Journal of Field Archaeology 7:149-151. 1980b Archaeology in the Future: An Evolving Discipline. American Journal of Archaeology 84:279-285. 1983 Conflicts in Archaeology: Education and Practice. Journal of Field Archaeology 10:1-9. 1998 Reforming Academia. Archaeology 51(5):27—30. Archaeology Is Anthropology . 2001 Declaration of Independence. Archaeology 54(4): 10-12. 2002 Point: Archaeology as an Academic Discipline. The SAA Archaeological Record 2(3):8-10. Wobst, H. M. 1978 The Archaeo-ethnology of Hunter-Gatherers or the Tyranny of the Ethnographic Record in Archaeology. American Antiquity 43:303-309. Wolf, Eric R. 1990 Facing Power—Old Insights, New Questions. American Anthropologist 92:586-596. 169