Passing On

Passing On
The Genesis of Urnfields in the Southern Netherlands
P.J.C. Valentijn
RMA-Thesis - Early Farming Communities in North-West Europe - Faculty of Archaeology, Leiden University
Passing On
The Genesis of Urnfields in the Southern Netherlands
P.J.C. Valentijn
Supervisors:
prof. dr. Harry Fokkens
Leiden, 1 September 2011
P. Valentijn, studentnr. s05122370
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Contents
1. Introduction
7
1.1 Urnfields Across Europe: The Problem
7
1.2 Case Study: The Southern Netherlands
8
1.3 Research Questions
11
1.4 Spatial and Chronological Framework
14
2. Theory of Culture Change
17
2.1 Past and Current Theoretical Frameworks
17
2.2 Gene-Culture Coevolutionary Theory
19
2.2.1 What Evolution is Not
19
2.2.2 Ideational Concept of Culture
20
2.2.3 Mechanisms of Transmission
21
2.2.4 Units of Transmission
22
2.2.5 Sources of Variation and Processes of Transformation
25
2.2.6 Cultural Selection
27
2.3 Coevolutionary Theory, Systems-Thinking and Human Agency
28
2.4 Studying Culture Change: Middle-Range Strategy
30
2.5 Structure of the Study
33
3. Changes in Traditions and Material Culture
35
3.1 Introduction
35
3.2 Data & Methodology
35
3.2.1 Dating Middle Bronze Age Graves
35
3.2.2 Dating Late Bronze Age Graves
36
3.2.3 Dataset: Organization, Characteristics and Limitations
46
3.3 Patterns of Inception
47
3.3.1 Burial Monuments
48
3.3.2 Burial Practices
57
3.3.3 Ceramics
64
3.3.4 Metal Objects
68
3.4 Discussion
3.4.1 Patterns of Culture Change
70
70
3
3.4.2 Quantifying then Patterns
74
3.5 Conclusion
76
4. Urnfields as Ritual Places
79
4.1 Introduction
79
4.2 The Meaning of Urnfields
79
4.2.1 Personal Identity: Metals and Ceramics
79
4.2.2 Communal Identity: Monument Types and Lay-Out
88
4.3 Conclusion
90
5. Social and Cultural Context
93
5.1 Introduction
93
5.2 Data & Methodology
93
5.3 Cultural Constraints: The Value System
93
5.3.1 Settlements
95
5.3.2 Burial Grounds
97
5.3.3 Bronze Depositions
101
5.3.4 Conclusion
103
5.4 Material Constraints: Subsistence & Ecology
104
5.5 Demography & Population Structure
106
5.6 Social Constraints: Authority & Influence
111
5.7 Communication: Modes of Transmission
115
5.7.1 Routes of Transmission
115
5.7.2 Means of Transmission
119
5.8 Conclusion
6. Discussion: Modelling Culture Change
119
123
6.1 Introduction
123
6.2 A Darwinian Model of Culture Change
123
6.3 Alternative Models
131
6.4 Testing Models
132
6.5 Conclusion
143
4
7. Concluding Remarks: The Genesis of Urnfields
145
7.1 Introduction
145
7.2 A Model of Culture Change
147
7.3 Epilogue
148
Abstract
Bibliography
List of Figures
List of Tables
5
6
Chapter 1
1.1
Introduction
Urnfields across Europe: The Problem
At the end of the Middle Bronze Age a change in burial rites occurred in many parts of Europe,
gathering force from 1300 BC onwards. The rite of inhumation burials underneath barrows gave way
to cremation of the deceased. Their remains were collected in urns and buried in large cemeteries,
called urnfields. Besides the shift from inhumation to cremation this urnfield phenomenon included a
new type of fine pottery, a dominance of central European metalwork types as grave gifts, and the use
of sun symbols and bird heads on bronze vessels and armour (Champion et al. 1984, 270).
When archaeologists give an overview of Late Bronze Age burial rites in Europe, the urnfield
phenomenon is often characterised in a typical way. First, the change in burial ritual is seen to herald a
significant transformation in cosmology, even a pan-European spiritual “revolution” in culture and
religion (Harding 1994, 318-25). Secondly, as a marked reorientation in spiritual life in large parts of
Europe, urnfields are thought to represent a new era of “cultural homogeneity” and “uniformity of
beliefs” across the continent (Champion et al. 1984, 270; Cunliffe 2008, 234-5; Harding 2000, 113).
And lastly, the emergence of the urnfield burial rite is explained as the rapid spread of central values
through elite interaction networks: a precocious manifestation of European globalization (Cunliffe
2008, 267; Kristiansen 1998).
But there are reasons to doubt these characterisations. To start, are urnfields really a ‘uniform
phenomenon’ with a single meaning? In Central Europe a distinct social differentiation seems to be
expressed at cemeteries by the apparent contrast between rich tumuli graves and poor flat-grave
cemeteries (Kristiansen 1998, 113). While in other areas of Europe urnfields lack indications for clear
social distinctions, although rich metal depositions in watery contexts show that a social hierarchy did
exist (Fontijn 2008). This implies that the social meaning of urnfields varied across the continent.
Also, the notion of urnfields as a spiritual “revolution” can be doubted. Regional studies demonstrate
that the moment and manner of introduction of the phenomenon varied between regions. The fact that
there are regions where cremation and urnfield-like cemeteries were already dominant before the rise
of urnfields (e.g. Verwers 1971), even leads us to question whether there really was a “revolution”.
Lastly, the ideas about elite interaction networks are probably a bit too one-sided. As these are mainly
based on the spread of prestigious items across Europe, the focus might be too much on large-scale,
inter-regional exchange systems. Urnfields, on the other hand, show distinct local variations, for
instance in monument forms, urn types and the kinds of metal burial gifts (Gedl 1991). This indicates
that intra-regional and local interaction networks may have played an important part in the spread of
burial customs.
So it appears that fundamental ideas about the nature and spread of urnfields are in need of
rethinking. Being an emblematic element of Late Bronze Age Europe, urnfields obviously are an
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important object of study. Studying the genesis of urnfields is an imperative exercise. As an alternative
to prestigious exchange items, they can give a distinct look into the workings of a Europe that is
starting to become ever more integrated culturally, politically and economically – a process that will
become to characterize the first millennium BC. As such, a process like the spread of urnfields touches
upon themes that are significant even for modern societies, such as culture change, cultural identity
and globalization.
Obviously, a new approach is needed to study the genesis and spread of urnfields. Local
variations in the moment of adoption, material characteristics and meaning of urnfields indicate that a
regional focus is needed, rather than solely explanations on a pan-European scale. The southern
Netherlands provide an excellent opportunity to adopt such a regional approach. Firstly, because a
recently developed method for dating cremated bone has provided new dates for the inception of the
phenomenon in this region (Lanting & Van der Plicht 2003; De Mulder et al. 2007). Secondly,
because the area contains a large sample of fully excavated, well-published urnfields which has been
extended the last twenty years with several large-scale excavations (e.g. Theuws & Roymans 1999).
Lastly, because recent studies have significantly enhanced our understanding of the social and cultural
context of the urnfield phenomenon in the region (Fontijn 2002; Gerritsen 2001).
1.2
Case Study: The Southern Netherlands
The southern Netherlands are part of the Pleistocene cover sand plateau between the rivers Meuse,
Demer and Scheldt (fig. 1.1). This area is not only uniform in geological terms, differing from
surrounding areas, but also in cultural terms. The beginning of the Urnfield period in this region is
dated to the course of the 11th millennium BC (Van den Broeke 1991, 193-4), concurring with the start
of the Late Bronze Age. Several models have been put forward to explain the genesis of urnfields in
the Meuse-Demer-Scheldt area as an outcome of internal processes (Fokkens 1997; Gerritsen 2001,
251-6). However, each of these models contains several practical and theoretical flaws.
Roymans and Kortlang (1999, 36-42) have put forward the hypothesis that changes witnessed
in burial rites are the expression of the way society copes with problems resulting from continued
demographic expansion and growing pressure on land. They explain that in a period in which the
control over land, rather than over labour, was vital to the reproduction of local domestic groups,
urnfields served as territorial markers. These burial grounds symbolised the transcendental claim of a
local community and its ancestors on a certain territory. Strength of this model is that in contrast to the
European-scale models, it does not need the control of elites over surplus, for which there is no
empirical support in the Meuse-Demer-Scheldt region (Gerritsen 2001, 252). However, there is
equally limited empirical support for population pressure before and during the Late Bronze Age.
Evidence for a powerful demographic expansion dates from the Early Iron Age – several centuries
after the appearance of urnfields (Gerritsen 2001, 253; Fontijn & Fokkens 2008, 359). Also, it remains
implicit in the model why populations rose to a level causing social problems and how population
8
pressure led to the adoption of a different mortuary ritual. The different manners in which this could
have taken place (group selection, individuals responding to environmental cues, etc.) can have major
consequences for the pace and form of culture change.
Fig. 1. 1 General map of the Meuse-Demer-Scheldt region, indicating national and provincial borders,
rivers and streams. a. coversand landscapes; b. loess landscapes; c. reconstructed extent of peat in the
Early Middle Ages; d. river sediments. (Gerritsen 2001, fig. 2.1)
From a different theoretical perspective, Fokkens (1997) explains the appearance of urnfields
as part of wider process of social and ideological change. Reviewing evidence from a broad social and
cultural context, i.e. burial rites, settlements, bronze exchange and hoarding, he characterizes the
transitional period from the Middle to Late Bronze Age as a period of social fragmentation. The
extended family groups prevalent in the Middle Bronze Age dissolved into nuclear families. With this
new social structure a new ideology came about, stressing individuality. This new notion of the person
is expressed in urnfields by all people being entitled to a single grave. In contrast to the European-
9
scale models and the model of Roymans and Kortlang social and cultural changes do not need an
external kick, such as an ecological or economic crisis, in the model of Fokkens. By stressing the
importance of a social and ideological transformation in explaining culture change Fokkens makes a
valuable contribution to the debate about the genesis of urnfields. However, as he points out himself,
many questions are left unanswered (Fokkens 1997, 371). Most important, to my opinion, how and
why did a change in values lead to the adoption of new beliefs and practices in burial ritual?
Recently a new model for the genesis of urnfields has been developed by Fokke Gerritsen
(2001, 251-6). On the same token as Fokkens, Gerritsen explains the appearance of urnfields as an
expression of social and ideological change. However, rather than individuality, Gerritsen stresses the
aspect of communality as expressed in the collective urnfields. Adopting a dwelling perspective, he
explains that the appearance of fixed burial grounds and stable local communities at the beginning of
the Late Bronze Age is to be understood as the effect of a progressing mythical ordering of the
landscape from the Late Neolithic onwards and the decreasing residential mobility with which this was
accompanied. As social groups became more closely associated with particular parts of the landscape,
urnfields came to be the focus of identification and memory of the local community. Thus an historical
relationship was created between a community, its territory and its ancestors. This model is interesting
because it incorporates long-term processes and mentalités, rather than only the developments directly
before and after the transition from Middle to Late Bronze Age. However, Gerritsen leaves it unclear
how local communities become associated with particular parts of the landscape through increasing
interaction with its historical dimensions. Little empirical evidence is used to explore the spatial and
ideological relationship between people and historical, mythical places in the landscape. In fact, the
role of Neolithic and Bronze Age barrows in the landscape is only now being studied.1
Beside the problems specific to each model, these explanations share several general problems. Firstly,
they focus on only one aspect of urnfields, mostly the individual burial versus collective burial
dichotomy. However, the urnfield burial ritual is a phenomenon consisting of several elements, such
as specific types of pottery, metal work, burial forms, spatial organization, etc. A comprehensive
model of cultural change, should try to incorporate all these elements and their meaning in its
explanation. Secondly, the regional models are based on a limited understanding of the traditions and
material culture from the end of the the Middle Bronze Age and the Late Bronze Age. In the models,
Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age urnfields are treated alike. The specific characteristics of
urnfields form the Late Bronze Age, the formative period in the genesis of the urnfield phenomenon,
are thereby overlooked. Also, little is known of the meaning of these traditions. Subjects like
personhood, social memory and social practice have not been investigated for the urnfields from the
Southern Netherlands.
1
This subject is currently being studied by Quentin Bourgeois as part of the Ancestral Mounds NWO research
project on the social and ideological significance of barrows in the Netherlands, headed by dr. David Fontijn.
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Lastly, there are some theoretical problems with the current models. These are mainly the
general problems of a post-processual framework (see chapter 2), such as an inability or disinterest to
relate ideological changes with transformations in material conditions or European politics. More
important is the inability to get from short-term, individual-centred scenarios to long-term, structural
changes. In the given explanations long term processes of culture change are not properly modelled,
but rather logically inferred. Instead of building statistical models that show how in specific social,
cultural and material conditions subsequent actions by individuals can lead to changes in burial
customs, the explanations given so far have all inferred the outcome of such complex processes by
logic. This can be a tricky enterprise as apparent logic may be misleading.
Taking these critiques into account, the current study will adopt a different approach in which
urnfields from the southern Netherlands are studied as a complex consisting of different elements. The
characteristics and meaning of all these elements will be established, with an explicit focus on the
burial customs of the Late Bronze Age and the preceding Middle Bronze Age B. A theoretical
framework will be adopted that allows proper modelling of the long-term processes that led to the
adoption of these customs (see chapter 2). With such an approach the main research goal of this study
will be obtained, which is:
Modelling when, how and, most importantly, why the urnfield phenomenon was
adopted in the Southern Netherlands. Such a regional model will nuance current
notions on the nature and spread of urnfields on a European scale.
1.3
Research Questions
The research objective will be obtained by answering three main research questions, each divided in
sub-questions. The answering of these questions make up the three steps needed to come to a proper
model of culture change (see chapter 2). The first step is a description of the material culture and
traditions of the Late Bronze Age: a basic story of what, when and where. The second step is
determining the ideas behind this behaviour. This is needed as it was not just behaviour that spread
throughout Europe in the Late Bronze Age, but rather the ideas behind it. Lastly, the social, cultural
and ecological context will be reconstructed as these set the conditions for the spread of the new burial
customs.
1 When, where and in what form were the elements of the urnfield phenomenon introduced in the
Southern Netherlands?
The urnfield phenomenon is traditionally seen as a “revolutionary” development that rapidly spread
from Hungary to France and from northern Italy to southern Scandinavia. However, there is
archaeological evidence that in some regions these novel traditions are actually continuations of local
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practices and material culture, for instance in the Southern Netherlands (Ruppel 1985; Verwers 1971).
The traditions and material culture of the Middle Bronze Age B and Late Bronze Age in the MeuseDemer-Scheldt region are poorly known. In this part of the study I will characterise each of the
elements making up the urnfield burial ritual from these periods in the southern Netherlands. Research
focuses on the following questions:

The switch of inhumation to cremation is one of the most prominent new features of urnfields.
When and how was cremation as a predominant form of treatment of the dead introduced in
the southern Netherlands?

In many regions monuments in urnfields have new and different forms than earlier barrow
cemeteries. When and how are new forms introduced in the southern Netherlands?

One of the traditional new elements of the urnfield phenomenon is the introduction of
continental types of metal objects. When and how does the cultural composition of metal
assemblages in burial context change in the southern Netherlands?

‘Urnfield ceramics’ are one of the clearest manifestations of the urnfield phenomenon. The
range of forms is immensely more diversified and the fabric and production techniques are
different compared to the earlier Middle Bronze Age. The question therefore is when and how
do ceramic traditions change in the southern Netherlands and how drastically?

In what contexts were these kinds of items used and ideas about them exchanged?
2. What is the meaning of the different elements of the urnfield phenomenon?
Urnfields are often considered a phenomenon with a uniform meaning across the continent, but there
are indications that the meaning behind differed between regions. However, the exact social and
cultural significance of these cemeteries in the southern Netherlands is ill understood. Recent research
indicates that urnfields may have been more than ‘just’ cemeteries. Through their long use and fixed
location in the landscape they became the symbolic and ritual foci of local communities (Gerritsen
2003). Nevertheless, important subjects as personhood, ancestry and social practices have never been
studied for urnfields in the Meuse-Demer-Scheldt region. In this part I will therefore determine the
meaning of the practices described in the previous part. Research focuses on these questions:

Are there patterns in the placement of graves and the way Late Bronze Age urnfields grew?
How do these patterns reflect social structure?
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
The shapes and sizes of monuments, burial forms and urns show more differences in treatment
of the dead than in previous periods. What kinds of persons were buried in Late Bronze Age
urnfields? Is there a relationship between certain categories of persons or ancestors and the
shape, size and positioning of burial monuments?
3 How can the genesis of urnfields be explained as part of a wider social, cultural and ecological
context and the changes therein?
Urnfields are generally studied as an isolated phenomenon. However, it is almost self-evident that they
were an integral aspect of much broader cultural, social and ecological context. For instance, in the last
decennium studies that compared developments in settlements and depositions with those of burial
rites, have demonstrated that the genesis of urnfields was not only a sudden change in burial practices
(Fokkens 1997; Fontijn & Fokkens 2008). This may sound logical, but in fact integrated, holistic
approaches to Late Bronze Age societies are almost completely absent. The social and cultural context
of the southern Netherlands has recently been extensively studied (Gerritsen 2001; Fontijn 2002), but
the findings of these studies have not yet been incorporated in the modelling of the genesis of
urnfields. The present study will draw other dimensions of life into the analysis, as these set the
conditions in which new customs are rejected, adapted and/or transformed. Research focuses on the
following questions:

Which developments occurred in the Middle and the Late Bronze Age in the settlement
domain? What information does this provide about changes in social structure and ideology
relating to developments in burial ritual?

How did the nature of ritual depositions develop in the Middle and the Late Bronze Age?
What information does this provide about changes in social structure and ideology relating to
developments in burial ritual?

Which developments occurred in the Middle and the Late Bronze Age in economy and
ecology? How did changes in material conditions affect the adoption of burial customs?

Which developments occurred in the Middle and the Late Bronze Age in demography and
population structure? How did this affect the manner in which ideas behind burial rites were
shared?
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
Which developments occurred in the Middle and the Late Bronze Age in communication
channels at both a local, regional and supra-regional scale? How did this affect the manner in
which ideas behind burial rites were shared?

Which developments occurred in the Middle and the Late Bronze Age in power relations and
social strategies? How did this affect the manner in which ideas behind burial rites were
shared?
1.4
Spatial and Chronological Framework
In closing I shortly want to specify the geographical and chronological focus the study. The southern
Netherlands is taken to comprise the provinces of Noord-Brabant, Limburg and parts of Gelderland,
with the rivers Meuse and Rhine as the northernmost boundary (fig. 1.1). The southern and eastern
edges of the study area are formed by land borders. These are, of course, arbitrary borders. Both
culturally and geographically the southern Netherlands is part of the wider cover sand area between
the rivers Meuse, Demer and Scheldt. Nonetheless, these arbitrary borders are maintained for practical
reasons, mainly to downsize the workload. But obviously, ample reference will be made to finds from
the wider Meuse-Demer-Scheldt area throughout this study.
Chronologically the study is confined to the Middle Bronze Age B (1500-1050 BC) and Late
Bronze Age (1050-800 BC). The Dutch periodization differs in terminology from the surrounding
areas, where the Hallstatt and La Tène periodizations are mostly used. The reason for this is that
material indicators used to date assemblages to phases of the German and France chronologies are
often lacking in the Dutch archaeological record. The Dutch periodization and corresponding central
and western European chronologies are shown in figure 1.2.
In the southern Netherlands the start of the urnfield period is set at approximately 1050 BC, as
the earliest 14C dates for urnfield burials date to the 11th century BC and clear Urnenfelderkultur
influences in pottery do not pre-date the Ha A to B transition (Van den Broeke 1991, 193-4).
However, changes in burial customs are already visible in the preceding Middle Bronze Age B, for
instance in the appearance of oval burial monuments of the Riethoven type (Lanting & Van der Plicht
2003, 222; Delaruelle et al. 2008). The urnfield period of the southern Netherlands ends in the early
stages of the Middle Iron Age, at about 400 BC. This is unlike central and western Europe, where the
period is confined to the Late Bronze Age. The main focus of the current study will, however, be on
this period. Of course, inevitably with an excursion into the Early Iron Age, now and then.
14
Fig. 1. 2 Chronological terminology of north-west European regions in use for the period under study.
(Fontijn 2002, fig. 1.4)
15
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Chapter 2
2.1
Theory of Culture Change
Past and Current Theoretical Frameworks
Given the immense time depth of the archaeological record, it is acknowledged by many that the
strength of our field of study lies in characterizing long-term patterning in past societies and their
material remains (Shennan 2002, 10). It should therefore not be a surprise that archaeologists have
produced a vast amount of theory to make sense of this patterning. In the first paragraph of this
chapter a brief and very general overview shall be given of the theoretical developments in the study
of long-term cultural change. As a result of the importance of cultural change to archaeological
studies, these developments coincide with the main developments in theoretical paradigms. The
paragraph will end with noting some major problems with the current way of thinking about culture
change in the study of the later prehistory of north-western Europe. In the next paragraph an
alternative theoretical framework shall be presented to overcome these problems.
The period before the 1960’s is often characterized as the period of ‘long sleep’ of archaeological
theory. Culture was defined as constantly recurring types of remains, which are the material
expression of a people (Childe 1929, v-vi). Changes in culture were explained as coming from the
outside: through migration or diffusion – the spread of ideas through contact between groups. This
normative view of culture – the assumption that artefacts are expressions of cultural norms – resulted
in mere descriptive accounts, consisting of chronological and spatial sequences of cultures.
In the 1960´s and 70´s several archaeologists who were dissatisfied with the descriptive
archaeology of culture-history argued for an archaeology that was more scientific and anthropological.
According to these scholars of the New Archaeology the dominating normative view of culture – that
artefacts are expressions of cultural norms – could not explain why certain people have certain norms
and how the different cultural elements fit together. They therefore adopted a different view of culture.
Different parts of a culture – institutions of religion, economy, politics, etc. – were thought to be
related to each other and thus formed a functional system, adapted to an outside environment. Crosscultural generalizations on processes of cultural adaptation were used to model the functioning of such
systems.
A critical response to a set of failings of the New or Processual Archaeology was formulated
in the 1980’s, known as postprocessual or interpretative archaeology. Postprocessualists believe that
cultures are not adaptations to an external environment, with individuals being mere pawns in such
functional systems. Rather individuals are active and as such are the agents of social change through
their actions. As these actions are based on culturally constructed knowledge, processes are always
historical. Such an understanding of processes makes agency – the active social strategies of
knowledgeable individuals – an important object of study. The central idea is that people are born into
17
existing structures and in acting reproduce but also transform this structure. Many postprocessualists
have borrowed ideas from Anthony Giddens (1984) and Pierre Bourdieu (1977) on this recursive
relationship between structure and agency (e.g. Barrett 1994).
However, the importance of agency, historicity and ideology in postprocessual archaeology
has resulted in a rigid focus on the local and short-term in current studies of north-western European
prehistory. An approach which has recently been criticized by several scholars (e.g. Kristiansen 2008;
Gerritsen 2001, 19-23), as summarized by John Robb (2004, 5):
“Because interpretation has focused upon local scenarios, there has been little use of agency to
explain long-term, large-scale or comparative patterns of change. A reaction against functionalist
approaches has led to neglect environmental, demographic and economic contexts, and a focus on
meaningful human experience in a short-term present has sometimes led to interpretations lacking
a developed politics and economics. More generally, relations between enduring structures and the
actors’ freedom to reconfigure or reinterpret them in action remain poorly explored (as indeed they
are in social theorists such as Bourdieu, in spite of his post-structuralist polemic); Giddens’
‘duality of structure’ is sometimes invoked as a rather mystical mantra to cover this problem rather
than a tool for probing it.”
Of these flaws the ‘micro-macro’ problem is the most salient one for this study, as cultural changes –
such as changes in burial rites – are always structural changes beginning at an individual level. Up till
now no satisfying solution has been found to overcome this dichotomy between the post-processual
focus on short-term, individual-centred, local scenarios and the study of long-term, large-scale,
structure-level processes in which these scenarios result.
Fokke Gerritsen – who has discussed the genesis of the urnfield burial rite in the southern
Netherland as part of his PhD-thesis (see chapter 1) – has struggled with this very issue. Gerritsen
(2001, 13-23) notes that current approaches that focus on the individual human agent and adopt a
‘dwelling perspective’ are perfectly suited to monitor synchronic variation, but that this comes at the
expense of interests in diachronic developments. He argues that rather “a long-term perspective (…)
implies a view of the past in which relatively more emphasis is placed on collective ideas, values and
dispositions than on experience and individual understandings of the world” (Gerritsen 2001, 21).
However, I believe that with this assumption Gerritsen maintains the improper dichotomy between the
short-term and the individual, on the one hand, and the long-term and the collective, on the other. In
my opinion, a long-term perspective does not imply more emphasis on collective ideas, values and
disposition, but rather on the transformation of these collective ideas, values and disposition. And
these transformations are effected by individuals through agency. So what is needed for a diachronic
perspective is not a change of focus onto the collective, but rather a theoretical framework that can
combine both individual agency and the changes in collective ideas, values and dispositions that this
agency brings about.
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In the following paragraph I will present such a theoretical framework: gene-culture
coevolutionary theory. This framework allows one to study long-term cultural and social change by
starting with modelling the life of individuals, including their social-strategies and intentions. Such
life-histories can be placed in their proper social, cultural and material contexts and their effects on
social structures extended in time through statistical modelling. With an emphasize on individual
decision-making, historical contingency and social strategy this framework has much in common with
current post-processual theory, but instead of relying on logical inference to probe long-term processes
of cultural change it uses mathematical simplification. As such, it allows for a diachronic perspective
that combines both individual understanding and structural changes.
2.2
Gene-Culture Coevolutionary Theory
Human behavioural ecologists and evolutionary psychologists, on the one hand, and much of social
science, on the other hand, have since long quarrelled about the relative significance of genes and
culture as the cause of human behavioural variability. In the 1970’s and 80’s several theories
developed which explained human behaviour as the result of simultaneous and interacting cultural and
genetic processes (Feldman & Cavalli-Sforza 1976; Cavalli-Sforza & Feldman 1981; Lumsden &
Wilson 1981; Boyd & Richerson 1985). According to these theories culture is thought to be
(indirectly) generated and shaped by genetic imperatives, while cultural traits alter the social and
physical environment under which genetic selection operates. Together, genes and culture instruct the
human phenotype and are being transformed through replication in a given environment. This idea is
known as ‘gene-culture coevolutionary theory’ (or ‘dual inheritance theory’). Proponents of the geneculture coevolutionary theory argue that culture evolves (Richerson & Boyd 2005, 58-98). With this
they mean something quite different from the unilinear theories of human progress, debated by
generations of anthropologists. A key concept of gene-culture coevolution is the process of cultural
inheritance. People acquire beliefs, skills, attitudes and values from other people by imitation and
social learning. Human populations form pools of culturally acquired information, on which processes
act that cause some cultural variants to spread, while others disappear. This cultural system of
inheritance possesses key properties for selection to occur: cultural variation is heritable, cultural
variants affect the phenotype (behaviour), and the total number of existing cultural variants is limited
(as cognitive resources and control of behaviour are limited).
2.2.1
What Evolution Is (Not)
Before explaining what cultural evolution is according to coevolutionary theory, I will first explain
quickly what evolution is. Or rather what it is not. Firstly, evolution is not group adaptation.
Archaeologists often wrongly associate evolutionary thinking with New Archaeology and group
adaptation. New Archaeology explained culture as a process of group adaptation to an external
environment, in which systems remain in equilibrium with their environment until an external
19
incentive leads to instability. This idea contains three major flaws. Firstly, there is an over-dependence
on adaptationist thinking: there is more to Darwinism than natural selection, and natural selection
itself is a heterogeneous complex of processes (Bettinger et al. 1996, 141). Secondly, following
evolutionary biologists and ecologists, the notion of group adaptation as the main force of cultural
evolution should be rejected because it appears theoretically invalid. Selection acts on individuals or
closely related kinsmen. In cultural systems individuals are the main source of variability and the
adaptation of such a system is therefore the result of the combined effects of individuals (Maschner &
Patton 1996, 90-1). Thirdly, the argument of ‘nothing changes until pushed’ is an assumption with no
real basis (cf. Maschner & Patton 1996, 93). In accordance with the biological concept of adaptation,
gene-culture coevolutionary theory focuses on the individual, i.e. individual decision-making
processes. This stress on events in the lives of individuals leads to a replacing of the ‘stable until
pushed’-premise of processual archaeology. “Systems are always in a state of readjustment,
experimentation, and change because the individuals in them, at least some individuals, are always
attempting to manipulate the structure in their own, or their kinsmen’s, self-interest.” (Maschner &
Patton 1996, 93).
Several other popular, but wrong ideas about evolution need to righted too. Evolution “is not:
progress or improvement (it is simply cumulative and transmissible change); genetic selection or
‘Darwin’s theory’ (these are instead ideas about the mechanisms of evolution in a specific context,
namely, organic evolution); or an exclusive property of genetic systems (many things can and do
evolve)” (Durham 1991, 21). Evolution is simply “descent with modification”, as defined by Charles
Darwin in The Origin of Species (1859). This phrase has general applicability: it does not specify what
it is that evolves, nor does it say how change or “modification” comes about (Durham 1991, 21). So,
the genetic system based on DNA is not the only valid system of inheritance. An evolutionary system
only needs to meet the following requirements (Durham 1991, 21-2). It has to have:
1. Units of transmission
2. Sources of variation
3. Mechanisms of transmission
4. Processes of transformation
5. Sources of isolation
In the following paragraphs I will show how a system of cultural evolution meets these requirements.
2.2.2
Ideational Concept of Culture
First, we will need a proper definition of what culture is. The definition used throughout this study is
given by Robert Boyd and Peter Richerson (2005, 5): “Culture is information capable of affecting
individuals’ behaviour that they acquire from other members of their species through teaching,
20
imitation and other forms of social transmission.” Two features of this definition need to be pointed
out (after Shennan 2002, 37-8). First, culture is not behaviour. Culture influences or guides behaviour,
but genes and the environment people live in do so too. This is a salient point for archaeologists, as it
means that material remains are behaviour, not culture. Secondly, not all information that affects
behaviour is cultural. Only information that is inherited from other members of a species is considered
culture.
2.2.3
Mechanisms of Transmission
Now that we have established that the genetic system is not the only inheritance system possible, let us
look at what evidence there is to suggest that culture is a system of inheritance. How is culture
inherited?
The main mechanism of cultural transmission is social learning (Shennan 2002, 38-42).
Simply put: ideas get from one head to another by people imitating each other. Contrary to other
animals, who mainly learn by a trial-and-error from their environment, humans depend for a large part
on cultural traditions passed on by social learning to make a living. Traditional craft skills and abilities
to exploit nutrient-dense food sources often require considerable knowledge. It takes the greater part of
pre-adolescent life to acquire this knowledge. Perfecting these skills often takes the greater part of a
life-time. For instance, 25-50 year old Ache foragers in Paraguay acquire on average 7000 calories of
meat per day, whereas 18-20 year old foragers acquire just 1530 calories per day (Kaplan 1996, 105).
This extensive knowledge is mainly socially learned from parents or another individual of the older
generation, as shown in several studies of how traditional skills and task complexes are learned in
traditional societies (Shennan & Steele 1999; Hewlett & Cavalli-Sforza 1986; Ruddle 1993).
A review by Boyd and Richerson (1985, 46-55) of a large amount of psychometric and
sociological evidence shows that social learning results in an inheritance system with high similarity in
behaviour between those passing on the information (consciously or unconsciously) and those
imitating it. A heritability that is as high as or even higher than that in non-cultural species. The effects
of cultural inheritance are difficult to distinguish from genetic and environmental effects in the case of
studies of psychological traits, such as cognitive ability, personality and temperament. However,
assuming that sociological traits like skills, norms, and political and religious attitudes are less likely
to be genetically acquired than psychological traits, these studies provide convincing evidence for
cultural transmission. High correlation exists between parent and offspring for attitudes toward
religion, political party affiliation, and occupational interests. It also appears that mother-offspring
correlations are slightly higher than father-offspring correlations, which is to be expected in the case of
cultural transmission given the greater involvement of women in child rearing.
But culture is not only transmitted between parent and offspring. There are more routes of
transmission for memes than there are for genes. As genes descent through sexual reproduction, we
inherit most of them equally from our mother and father. Even when memes are inherited from parents
21
(vertical transmission), it is unlikely that we inherit 50% of them from each parent. Daughters are
more likely to learn from their mothers, and sons from their fathers. Besides, there are several routes
of transmission that have no parallel in genetic systems of inheritance. Individuals can acquire ideas
from an individual of an older generation other than their parents (oblique transmission). Or they can
acquire information from their contemporaries (horizontal transmission). Also, unlike genes,
information can be transmitted one-to-many or many-to-one. In the former case new ideas can spread
quickly through a population. The latter occurs when all members of an older generation insist on
certain values or practices in their interaction with members of a younger generation. In this case
change is slower than in one-to-one or much slower one-to-many transmission. Table 2.1 gives an
overview of the possible routes of transmission and their characteristics and consequences.
Table 2. 1 Different routes of cultural transmission and their suggested implications in terms of cultural
uniformity and speed of change. (Shennan 2002, fig. 4)
2.2.4
Units of Transmission
So if social learning is the mechanism by which information is transmitted, than what is it that is being
transmitted? What are the units of inheritance? The best-known answer to this question is the concept
of the meme, formulated by Richard Dawkins (1976, 189-201). The meme is a unit of cultural
inheritance which reproduces faithfully, lives long enough to affect the world, and can make multiple
22
copies of it self. Memes are replicators, just like genes. However, many doubt the view that ideas are
replicators, faithfully copying their selves. For instance, the cognitive anthropologist Dan Sperber
(1996) argues that ideas are not transmitted intact from one brain to the other. Instead people generate
rules, beliefs or ideas from observing other people’s behaviour. Developmental, cultural or genetic
differences among people may lead to them generating different rules from the same behaviour. So it
appears that the ‘meme as replicators’ idea has significant problems. However, ideas and beliefs do not
have to be like genes in order for cultural evolution to take place. All that is needed is that cultural
continuity exists. And we archaeologists know it does. So we can theorize about cultural evolution,
even though we do not exactly know what the cultural units of transmission are (cf. Richerson & Boyd
2005, 80-1). Similarly, substantial progress is made on understanding organic evolution, while we still
don’t know exactly how genes translate into properties of organisms. I will therefore maintain the term
meme throughout this book, even though it is flawed, because it self is a catchy meme.
One thing has to be made clear about units of cultural inheritance: the units of inheritance need
not be small, independent bits. Many anthropologists consider culture to exist of integrated systems of
shared meaning. They eschew a notion of cultural evolution along Darwinian principles, since it would
mean that culture needs to be broken up into small, independent parts. However, a Darwinian
understanding of cultural evolution can be gained even when culture is considered a complex
(Richerson & Boyd 2005, 90-1). But the question is: how is culture transmitted? Boyd et al. (1997)
have formulated four hypotheses on how culture descents:
Culture descents as a whole
According to this view, cultures can be seen as biological species: cultures are tightly integrated and
isolated from each other. In the course of evolution cultures act as single entities, because they contain
within them powerful sources of isolation and coherence. However, such a holistic view of culture is
hard to maintain as there is much evidence for substantial diffusion and rapid evolution in many
components of culture.
Culture descents as core traditions
Like in the previous hypothesis culture is assumed to be an ideational system. Cultures consist of
hierarchically integrated systems, each with its own internal gradient of coherence. At the one extreme
of the gradient there are ´core´ components of a culture, generated by processes of coherence (see
below). This core consists of the ideational phenomena that constitute the conceptual and interpretive
framework of a culture. At the other extreme of the gradient are ‘peripheral’ elements that are only
lightly or not at all influenced by the core. These elements therefore change rapidly and diffuse
widely. Examples of such cultures might be found in the Athapaskans of northern Canada (Rushfort &
Chisholm 1991), Polynesian islanders (Kirch 1986), Indo-European traditions (Gamkrelidze & Ivanov
1990), and Tupi speakers of southern America (Durham & Nassif 1991).
23
Culture descents as small components
In this hypothesis, culture does not exist of one core cultural tradition of special significance, but
rather several cores and sometimes quite small units. Collections of memes diffuse and recombine
rapidly, compared with memes within collections. Coherence within the components is created by the
same processes as for the hierarchical cores of the previous hypothesis. The presence of several
smaller components, rather than larger, coherent units, can be expected theoretically. As we have
many cultural parents (see above), the potential exists for independent samples of culture from many
sources. This hyperrecombinatorial nature of the cultural inheritance system provides a serious
obstacle for maintaining coherence in a large cultural unit. Mixing is less effective within small units,
because one can learn one thing from a small group of cultural parents and another thing from another
group of parents. This leads to small but coherent subcultures in a larger cultural complex. Examples
of the descending of small components are the spread of the Sun Dance on the Great Plains of
America, or the spread of Islam from Western to Central and Northern Asia and Northern Africa.
Culture descents as memes
This last hypothesis states that there are few multimeme complexes. Rather the cultural things we
observe are affected by many memes. These memes diffuse rapidly between groups and memes that
affect different cultural things readily recombine.
Boyd et al. (1997) describe several mechanisms that create coherence between cultural elements.
According to symbolic and interpretive anthropologists it is ‘meaning’ which provides the glue in
culture. Meaningful cultural information helps making sense of the natural world and of cultural and
social systems. It also legitimizes these systems. This information often has a sacral status as it is
important to an individuals understanding of the world. However, it does not need to be exclusively
linked to cultures as a whole. It can also be linked to smaller units.
There are several ways in which a system of meanings can create coherence. Foreign elements
may be known to individuals, but foreign values or ideas are misunderstood, disliked and neglected
because of a mismatch of meaning between cultures or subcultures. Second, meaningful culture often
involves markers of group identity. The contexts in which coherent, meaningful cultural units can be
acquired from foreigners are likely to be of a ritual nature. Such contexts mobilize ethnocentric
sentiments and thereby provide a barrier to diffusion. Third, the coherence of culture is protected from
ordinary adaptive evolutionary processes because of the systemic nature of meaningful cultural
information. Lastly, cultural coherence my be maintained because certain combinations are favoured
by natural selection or derived adaptive decision-making rules (see below). A variant on this is that
coherence is maintained because it sustains a stable social strategy. Even a small movement away
24
from a current practice could be disadvantageous. Foreign social practices may therefore be rejected
because they fail to fit into existing social arrangements.
Table 2. 2 A list of cultural evolutionary forces (Richerson & Boyd 2005, table 3.1)
2.2.5
Sources of Variation and Processes of Transformation
Now that we have seen what culture is and how it is transmitted, let us take a look at how variation
and transformation in culture comes about. As with routes of transmission, the sources of variation and
processes of transformation in cultural evolution are not fully the same as for organic evolution.
Students of gene-culture coevolution have distinguished several forces of cultural evolution: random
forces, decision-making forces and natural selection (Richerson & Boyd 2005, 58-98; Shennan 2002,
51-60). These are summarized in table 2.2. I will now further explain these.
Random forces are processes analogue to mutation and drift in genetic transmission. Random
mutation in cultural information, unrelated to processes of selection, can occur. For instance, when
people make copying errors and alter their behaviour without knowing. When some people begin to
copy this behaviour cultural evolution will start. Another random force of cultural evolution is drift.
25
We can speak of drift when the frequency of a meme in a population changes not as the result of
selection (cultural or natural), but as the result of chance. Drift can occur in any finite population, in
which chance always has a part to play in the transmission of information. In small populations chance
events have a significant likelihood to outweigh the effect of selection. Chance has especially a large
part to play in the transmission of neutral information, in the sense that no selection is acting upon
them. A well-known example is stylistic attributes, often contrasted in archaeology to functional
attributes (Dunnell 1978).
Decision-making forces result when people given a choice between two alternative behaviour
patterns, preferentially choose one cultural variant over another. Two types of decision-making forces
exist. Individuals may modify existing behaviours or invent new ones, called guided variation. When
people prefer a certain cultural variant on basis of cultural rules or genetic predispositions, this is
called biased transmission. A bias may, for instance, result from a preference for the content of the
cultural variant (content-based or direct bias). People may change their way of doing as the result of
comparing the outcome of their current behaviour with that of another individual. A bias may also
result from the commonness or rarity of a variant (frequency-based bias). People can look around them
and either do what most people do (conformist bias) or do the opposite (non-conformist bias). Lastly, a
bias may result from the observable attributes of the individuals who exhibit the variant (model-based
or indirect bias). In this case beliefs are not copied for their own content, but, for instance, because the
individual displaying them appears successful or prestigious to local criterion. Or because the
individual looks like oneself.
Lastly, the frequency of a cultural preference can be directly changed by natural selection.
Natural selection in organic evolution is the “differential reproduction of genotypes” (Durham 1991,
12). Changes in the frequency of genes in a population depend for a large part on the survival and
reproductive success of the individuals carrying them. To the extent that information is passed on from
parent to child, natural selection acts on memes in almost similar ways as it does on genes (Richerson
& Boyd 2005, 76). Indeed, sometimes the frequency of cultural variants might have changed in
populations because certain beliefs led some people to have more (grand)children than others.
However, when people are influenced by contemporaries, teachers, prestigious individuals, etc. natural
selection can act on culture in ways quite different than it does in organic evolution. It can favour
behaviour that increases the chance of attaining such a non-parental role. Whenever behaviour leads to
being imitated more often than one would be when holding other behaviour, the meme instructing that
behaviour will increase. Even when this behaviour is maladaptive seen from the gene’s point of view.
Natural selection in cultural evolution can therefore be defined as “changes in the cultural composition
of a population caused by the effects of holding one cultural variant rather than others” (Richerson &
Boyd 2005, table 3.1).
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2.2.6
Cultural Selection
Having briefly discussed the forces of cultural evolution, there is one that deserves some further
elaboration: the role of human beings as decision makers. Culture changes to a large extent under the
influence of humans as guiding and selecting agents. You can say that in cultural evolution it is
people, not nature that do most of the selection. The differential social transmission of memes as the
result of human decision-making forces is called cultural selection. Or simply ‘preservation by
preference’ (Durham 1991, 198). This form of selection can come in two modes. Humans can select
cultural variants on the basis of free decision making, or ‘selection by choice’. Another possibility is
that decision making is constraint by the social context in which it takes place. In this case people are
not free to choose a cultural variant at will, but comply with the decision of others. This can be called
‘selection by imposition’ (Durham 1991, 198). But whether people acquire or reject a cultural variant
by choice or by imposition, there is always evaluation of variants according to their consequences. An
important question is therefore, on what basis do people assess a variant?
The answer on this question is given by William Durham (1990, 199-201), basing himself on
the works of George E. Pugh (1977) and Pulliam and Dunford (1980). They describe the ‘value-driven
decision system’ located in the human brain, which endows humans with as system to assess the
consequences of behaviour – experienced or expected – according to one or more decision criteria.
People can then search for the optimal solution. The outcome of this system is therefore influenced
most heavily by the values people hold. These values are influenced by both the genetical and the
cultural inheritance systems. One can make a distinction between ‘primary’ and ‘secondary values’.
Primary values are designed by organic evolution into our decision making system and develop
generally out of the interaction between the environment and the nervous system. They are evaluative
sensations experienced generally as good or bad, pleasant or unpleasant. Secondary values include
“rules of thumb, wise proverbs, social conventions, moral and ethical principles, and even habit”
(Pugh 1970, 33). Durham (1991, 201) ads to this, that values are secondary when they persist in a
population as the result of social transmission. Secondary values stem from social history and
collective experience. Note that these values themselves are cultural and therefore have their own
history of cultural evolution.
According to Durham selection on the basis of secondary values is the main force of
transformation in cultural evolution. He calls this hypothesis 1 of coevolutionary theory, formally
formulated: secondary value selection is the main but not exclusive means of cultural evolutionary
change (Durham 1991, 204). So when the rate of change of the frequency of a cultural variant in
population depends on choice, it will co-vary with evaluation according to the secondary decisionmaking system of the population. When the rate of change depends on imposition, it will co-vary with
the secondary values of the imposers.
The last question that needs to be answered is then: where do secondary values come from?
What is their origin and why do they persist? Following Pugh again, Durham (1991, 207-210)
27
theorizes that primary values are substitutes for real evolutionary criterion of genetic selection – that
is, reproductive success. Primary values will lead to the adoption of cultural variants that increase the
genetic fitness of an individual. The secondary value system evolved as a further elaboration of this
surrogate decision making system, also under strong genetic selection. Secondary values, acting as
surrogates for primary values, make the system even more effective and efficient, but they are
generally (but not always) in agreement with primary values. Secondary values were and are thus
selected by the same decision-making system that they come to enhance. Early in human evolution
secondary values will have been mainly selected by primary values. Through time the complex of
secondary values extended and these values became further removed from primary values. And as
long as these derived values do not oppose the primary ones, this process will continue ever on.
However, feedback of the primary decision-making system will maintain a system of cultural selection
in congruence with the criteria of genetic selection. Hypothesis 3 of coevolutionary theory therefore is:
The main but not exclusive effect of the human decision system is to promote a general positive
covariation between the cultural fitness of allomemes and their inclusive fitness values for the
“selectors” (i.e. those who actually decide) (Durham 1991, 209).
2.3 Coevolutionary Theory, Systems-Thinking and Human Agency
Having explained what coevolutionary theory comprises, I will in closing discuss how it relates to the
notions of interpretative archaeology.
The traditional social evolutionary view of the New Archaeology, based on the works of
scholars as Leslie White and Elman Service, saw cultures as adapted through linked social institutions
to an outside environment. Evolutionary biology critiques this view by noting that the starting point
for an evolutionary perspective is not group adaptation but methodological individualism, i.e. the view
that larger-scale entities merge from interactions between individuals (Shennan 2002, 212). The idea
that social institutions arrive simply because people act in the interest of the group has been refuted
since long by biologists. They explain that people that do so would loose out to individuals who
prioritize their own reproductive success. Interests at the group level will be overridden by interests on
the individual level if behaviour has any kind of genetic basis (Shennan 2002, 28-9). So if we want to
understand how groups form and why they have certain characteristics, we need to start with the
individual.
Evolutionary biology shares this methodological individualism with post-processualism. And
in fact, many more parallels exist between post-processualism and coevolutionary theory. As we have
seen, both emphasize individual intentions and decision-making; both accord social strategies as much
importance as subsistence; both recognize the role of the contingencies of history and the importance
of “heritage constraint”; and both belief that actions and responses are culturally mediated by the
values people hold in a specific cultural context (Maschner & Mithen 1996, 12). But where
coevolutionary differs from interpretive archaeology, is in its methods.
28
The current stress in archaeological research on agency and historical processes led to a rigid
focus on local scenarios and therefore often provides no explanation for long-term, large-scale change.
Many social scientists have struggled with this ‘micro-macro problem’ and some are even convinced
that the two approaches can never be unified. Starting with complex social institutions, how can one
ever fit in individuals? Actually, the tools of Darwinian population thinking are designed to integrate
individual and collective phenomena (Richerson & Boyd 2005, 246-7). They are by definition multilevel tools. In Darwinian models, what happens to individuals affects population properties. So where
current archaeology has to do with logical inferring to describe the relation between individuals and
the collective, coevolutionary theory has an already developed toolset to model this relationship.
A postprocessual critique is, however, to be expected to Darwinian model building, mainly
concerning the apparent use of generalizations in the models. According to postprocessualists
behaviour cannot be predicted for the following reasons:
“First, it is acknowledged that predictability of human behavior occurs within specific
cultural contexts because actions and responses are mediated by cultural values.
Prediction is, then possible, but only “from the inside.” Second, however, the
knowledgeability of lay actors includes the ability to discern predictability of responses
within historical traditions. Such knowledge can be used to contrive power and social
change. The generation of the unpredictable is a social process and individuals create
laws by their activities. As anthropologists we cannot make general deterministic laws
about human behavior but we can identify the general principles by which individuals
construct their worlds within culture-historical contexts.” (Hodder 1985, 7)
As social actors are understood as active and thus generate social change, and their actions depend on
knowledgeability that is culturally constructed, postprocessualists argue that all social change and
processes are historically dependent (cf. Hodder 1985, 2-3). The use of Darwinian models and
methods from population genetics may appear to ignore this historicity, by its focus on generalized
processes of culture change.
Such a critique would, however, be invalid. First of all, concerning human intentions, values
and actions it is simplification, not generalization that typifies Darwinian models. Hodder himself
points out that, even though deterministic principles do not exist, general cultural-specific principles
can be identified. These cultural rules guide the actions of individuals and can be incorporated in
Darwinian models as decision-making forces. These forces stem from both genetically predispositions
and culturally acquired learning rules, which result in preferences for certain cultural variants
(Richerson & Boyd 2005, 71-2). (Even genetically determined predispositions alone can lead to
cultural specificity, since these lead to behavioural flexibility, not biologically determined behaviour
(Shennan 2002).) Secondly, historical contingency plays an equal important role in organic evolution
29
as in social processes. Darwinian tools are therefore tuned in to study apparent unique historical
trajectories (Richerson & Boyd 2005, 247-8). These tools can even explain how generalized
evolutionary forces like natural selection can give rise to history (Boyd & Richerson 2005). So it
appears that postprocessualists “have everything to gain and nothing to lose by using appropriate
evolutionary tools for their job.” (Richerson & Boyd 2005, 248)
2.4
Studying Culture Change: Middle-Range Strategy
Now that we have seen what coevolutionary theory is and what its advantages are, the last step is to
show how we can use this theory in a practical manner. The basic steps of creating a Darwinian model
of culture change are (Richerson & Boyd 2005, 97):
-draw up a model of the life history of an individual;
-fit an individual-level model of the cultural (and genetic, if relevant) transmission
processes to the life history;
-decide which cultural (and genetic) variants to consider;
-fit an individual-level model of the ecological effects to the life history and to the
variants;
-scale up by embedding the individual-level processes in a population; and
-extend over time by iterating the one-generation model generation after generation.
Of course, processes of culture change often are of great complexity. I will therefore not try in advance
to capture such complexity in several simple rules, typologies or hypotheses of culture change that
subsequently need to be tested. I believe it makes more sense in the case of such complexity to adopt a
theoretically informed inductive strategy to link the characteristics of the archaeological record to the
properties of a process of culture change: or what Kristiansen (1998, 54) calls a ‘middle range
strategy’. In a practical sense, this means that first several components of a model of culture change
will be reconstructed in a theoretically informed way. Subsequently these components will form the
building blocks for a Darwinian model of culture change.
In the following I will discuss for each building block what it comprises. Most of these
building blocks have already been discussed in previous sections and will therefore only be briefly
discussed.
Life History
Life history theory is a set of ideas used in evolutionary biology, ecology, and evolutionary
anthropology and psychology. It is concerned with the effect of natural selection on how organisms
allocate their limited resources (e.g. time, effort and energy) through the course of a life time (Shennan
2002, 102-113). Available resources are limited in a given environment and resources used for one
30
purpose diminishes the resources available for other purposes. Questions asked are: How much effort
should be devoted to parenting instead of mating? Should one reproduce many offspring in which little
resources are invested or only a few in which much resources are invested? Those individuals who
come up with the optimal allocation of resources given certain constraints will be most successful in
terms of natural selection.
However, as was noted earlier, natural selection on cultural variants can be quite different if
information is not transmitted solely from parent to child. Natural selection in cultural evolution is
simply changes in the cultural composition of a population caused by the effects of holding one
cultural variant rather than others. The effects of the characteristics of a certain life course should
therefore not be valued only in terms of reproductive success (i.e. organic evolution). In cultural
evolution life history influences the extent to which an individual is imitated. Members of a population
may have different life histories, according to sex, age, social position, etc, which result in differences
in reproductive success, both in a cultural and an organic sense. I will therefore reconstruct the life
history of the different kinds of individual involved in the transmission of the ideas behind the urnfield
phenomenon to see how these different life histories might have affected the changes in burial rites.
Transmission Processes
As was said, cultural information passes on from one individual to another by social learning. And it
does so with great accuracy. This is the most essential property of culture as a system of inheritance.
However, much variation exists in how one learns and from whom. For instance, one can gain ideas
and beliefs from his or her parents, from other individuals of an older generation, or from his or her
peers. Information can be passed on one-to-one, one-to-many or many-to-one. Also, ideas can be
transmitted by behavioural demonstration, verbal explanation, etc. All this variation can have
significant effects on how culture evolves. For the different practices and elements making up the
urnfield phenomenon – ceramics, burial forms, cremation rites, metal works – I will therefore
reconstruct how the ideas and beliefs behind them were transmitted, using both archaeological data
and cultural anthropological insights.
Value Systems & Cultural Constraints
According hypothesis 1 of coevolutionary theory, selection of ideas and beliefs on the basis of the
cultural values individuals hold is the main force of culture change (Durham 1991, 204). As explained
above, foreign ideas and beliefs might be misunderstood, disliked and neglected because of a
mismatch of values between cultures or subcultures. In this way options may be blocked by cultural
constraints, such as preconceptions, prejudices, and technological capabilities (Durham 1991, fig. 4.5).
A thorough understanding of the value systems of Middle and Late Bronze Age societies in the
Meuse-Demer-Scheldt area is therefore of the utmost importance. Fortunately, our knowledge on these
value systems has been greatly expanded by several recent studies (Fontijn 2002; Gerritsen 2001). Use
31
will be made of the insights gained in these studies to reconstruct the value system of the societies
under study.
Ecology & Material Constraints
Coevolutionary theory highly stresses the historical and cultural specificity of change, by noting that
ideas are either accepted or rejected according to the criteria of a cultural value system. However, this
does not mean that this value system provides the incentives of change. As said, people do not change
beliefs and behaviour at random, but on the basis of the consequences of behaviour in a particular
social and natural environment. These environments are unstable and provide the external stimuli for
change. I will reconstruct the changes in the natural environment. By this I will identify the external
stimuli of culture change, without explaining the trajectory or form of culture change (cf. Gerritsen
2001, 22).
Social Environment & Social Structural Constraints
Like the natural environment, the social environment provides incentives of change and therefore
needs to be reconstructed. Also, society comes with several structural constraints in the form of power
relations. Third parties can intervene on the transmission of information by imposing on decision
making forces. Power relations and their effects on the decisions made by individuals will therefore be
a focus of study.
Demography & Population Structure
To create a Darwinian model of culture change the individual-level processes need to be scaled up by
embedding them in a population. Insight into population properties is therefore needed. It is assumed
urnfields probably contain all the deceased members of a community in a certain region. Those
urnfields that are fully excavated can therefore be used to reconstruct several demographical
characteristics, such as population size, and changes therein (Kooi 1979, 167-179; Theuws &
Roymans 1999; Lohof 1991, 252-256; Theunissen 1993, 40).
One also needs to reconstruct the population structure, that is reconstructing the different
social units, or ‘reference groups’, of which a population consists. “The reference group should be the
collection of individuals in space and time that shares both the same inclusive fitness function and the
same cultural fitness function. In other words, it is a group of individuals who face more or less the
same set of options, who experience more or less the same set of consequences, and who respond with
more or less the same pattern of transmission rates.” (Durham 1991, 210-1) Singling out reference
groups is important, because it is to be expected that cultural evolution is driven by different forces or
proceeds in different directions, or both, within each of the subpopulations present (Durham 1991,
211). For instance, as cultural evolution is often a political process, a cultural variant may be absent in
one subpopulation not as the result of free choice, but as the result of imposition by another, politically
32
dominant subpopulation. In this case, a false understanding of the processes of culture change would
be gained if differences in reference groups were not taken into account.
Once these building blocks are defined all the information is present to formulate a model of culture
change. We have a reconstruction of the life history of the different kinds of individual involved in the
urnfield burial ritual. And we also know how these individuals share ideas about this ritual. These are
the first two steps of a Darwinian model of culture change. We can subsequently model the effects of
ideological, material and social constraints on the spread of the cultural variants that make up the
urnfield phenomenon. These individual level processes can be embedded in a population, the
characteristics of which have been reconstructed. Finally, the processes can be extended over several
generations.
2.5 Structure of the Study
The study consists of three parts, following the three main research questions as defined in chapter 1.
The first part will be a description of the material characteristics of Middle Bronze Age B and Late
Bronze Age funerary rituals. It was explained earlier that material remains represent behaviour, not
culture. The first part of the study will therefore be a description of behaviour. Such a description is
crucial, however, as it forms the basis for a reconstruction of the ideas behind them: the cultural
variants.
The reconstruction of the meaning of the elements making up the urnfield phenomenon is the
second part of the study. Subjects to be considered are the personhood of the buried, group identity as
expressed in the layout of the cemeteries, the nature of urnfields as communal ritual places, and social
memory as articulated in the reference to older burial monuments. Many evolutionary archaeologists,
including those working in a coevolutionary framework, argue, however, that culture change should be
explained without behavioural reconstruction, which is considered ‘unscientific’ (Lipo et al. 1997).
Rather one should investigate diachronic patterns in the frequency of material culture traits (cf.
Shennan 2004; Lipo et al. 2007). However, I believe that this idea of objectivity is misleading. At least
some degree of reconstruction is always needed, either when creating a model of culture change or
after testing it (cf. Bettinger et al. 1996; Shennan & Wilkinson 2001, 592). Post-processual
archaeology has developed an extensive array of theories and methods to study the behaviour and,
especially, the cognition of the people behind the pots (e.g. Barrett 1994; Bradley 1998; Tilley 1994). I
think it therefore makes sense to make use of these tools.
Having established the patterns of change in the nature and frequency of the cultural variants
that are part of the urnfield phenomenon, the last step is to describe the context in which these variants
have spread. This comprises the third part of the study. In this part most of the building blocks for a
Darwinian model of cultural change are described: the life history of the carriers of the variants, the
relevant transmission processes, the cultural, social and material constraints, and the population
33
structure. Many of these topics have recently been analysed for the Late Bronze Age of the Southern
Netherlands. The insights gained in these studies have, however, not yet been combined to provide a
framework for explaining the genesis of the urnfield phenomenon. Using these building blocks I will
formulate one or several hypotheses that explain the change in burial rites at the end of the Middle
Bronze Age. These hypotheses will be presented as mathematical models which generate patterns that
can be compared with those described in the first and second part of the study.
34
Chapter 3
3.1
Changes in Traditions and Material Culture
Introduction
This chapter forms the first part of this study of the genesis of urnfields in the Southern Netherlands. A
study of culture change has to start with a thorough description of the material characteristics and
traditions current in subsequent periods and the frequency in which these occur. In this chapter a
description will, therefore, be given of the material characteristics and practices of Middle Bronze Age
B and Late Bronze Age funerary rituals. Previous models that have tried to explain the coming of the
urnfield phenomenon in the Southern Netherlands lacked a comprehensive understanding of these
traditions. They were based on a general knowledge of the burial practices of the Middle Bronze Age
and treated the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age components of urnfields alike. Also, they tended
to focus on a single element of the urnfield burial ritual. Recent overviews of Middle Bronze Age
burial practices and new 14C dates for the Middle Bronze Age B make a better understanding possible
of the period before the arrival of the urnfields. With an inventory of Late Bronze Age burials the
practices of this period will also be better known. Thus I can answer the first set of research questions:
how and when did the burial monuments, burial practices, ceramics and metals that were characteristic
for the urnfield burials introduced in the southern Netherlands?
3.2
Data & Methodology
A description of funerary material culture and traditions, of course, has to start with an inventory of all
graves from a certain period and region– in this case all Middle Bronze Age B and Late Bronze Age
graves from the southern Netherlands. Inclusion of a grave in such an inventory is based on the dating
of the burial. Typo-chronology of burial goods or grave-structures and radiocarbon dating are the main
means for dating later prehistoric burials. In the following the peculiarities and difficulties of dating
Bronze Age graves shall be discussed.
3.2.1
Dating Middle Bronze Age Graves
For dating Middle Bronze Age burials from the Southern Netherlands two typo-chronological
developments are significant, that of pottery and that of the surrounding features of barrows. Metal
grave goods only play a small part in dating barrows, as only 4,3% of the graves contain bronzes,
which all date to the Middle Bronze Age A (Theunissen 1999, 87). I will shortly discuss the validity of
typo-chronology as a means for dating Bronze Age graves, starting with the surrounding features.
The Bronze Age of the Netherlands is divided into the following periods (De periodisering..
1965/66; Lanting & Mook 1977; Van den Broeke 1991, 193-4): the Early Bronze Age (2000-1800
BC); the Middle Bronze Age A (1800-1500 BC) and B (1500-1050 BC); and the Late Bronze Age
(1050-800 BC). Throughout the Bronze Age and the preceding Late Neolithic barrows were being
35
erected in the Netherlands which often were surrounded by distinctive features, such as different kinds
of ring ditches and post circles. It is supposed that in each period of the Bronze Age a different kind of
surrounding feature was prevalent. In the Early Bronze Age featureless barrows were erected, in the
Middle Bronze Age A barrows had a ring ditch, while in the Middle Bronze Age B post circles
dominated (Drenth & Lohof 2005, 440-2). Recently the dating of each type of surrounding feature has
been critically reviewed by Quentin Bourgeois. Giving an overview of all barrows that can be securely
dated on the basis of radiocarbon dates and typo-chronology of grave goods, he found that the
different types of surrounding features (including the featureless barrow) are roughly contemporary
and that almost all barrows fall within Middle Bronze Age A and the first quarter of Middle Bronze
Age B (Bourgeois & Arnoldussen 2006; Bourgeois in prep.). So it appears that surrounding features
have, for now, lost their significance as a means for typo-chronological dating.
The second manner in which Middle Bronze Age graves can be dated is through typochronological developments of pottery. For the Middle Bronze Age three types of pottery have been
defined by Glasbergen (1969) on the basis of the shape, rim type and decoration of pots. These types
are part of a typo-chronological development, beginning with Hilversum pots. Hilversum pottery
(HVS) is characterized by more or less biconical pots, both with and without cord, nail or hollow bone
or reed impressions on the collar (triangles, meshes, groups of vertical lines, wavy lines, groups of
ovals, or series of circles) and sometimes cord or nail impressions on the rim (triangles, parallel lines,
or sometimes a single line). Some Hilversum pots have horseshoe shaped handles. Later HVS pots
have a more ‘truncated-pear shape’ (afgeknot peervormig), and are sometimes decorated with cord
impressions, but mostly with nail impressions (Glasbergen 1969, 14, 18-9). These develop into
Drakenstein pots (DKS), which are more or less ‘truncated-pear shaped’ or bucket shaped. According
to Glasbergen the earliest DKS pottery types have an inward slanting rim, often with a fingertipdecorated cordon (stafband). The later types have a rounded rim and perhaps a row of fingertip
impressions several centimetres below the rim, if decorated at all (Glasbergen 1969, 19). The youngest
type is Laren pottery (LR), which is barrel or bucket shaped, mostly undecorated (only sometimes a
row of fingertip impressions underneath the rim) (Glasbergen 1969, 27). According to Glasbergen
(1969) DKS and LR pottery represented typological devolution from HVS pottery and therefore a
chronological development.
Later, 14C dating (Lanting & Mook 1977, 117-9) showed that HVS pots are always early, but
that DKS pottery both occurred in the earlier and later periods of the Middle Bronze Age. So DKS and
HVS pottery coexisted over a long period of time. According to the 14C dates used by Lanting and
Mook LR pottery indeed is younger than HVS pottery. Taking these insights into account Ten Anscher
(1990, 72-7) proposed to abandon the HVS, DKS and LR phases and replace them with a HVS-1,
HVS-2 and HVS-3 phase respectively. The HVS-1 phase contains both HVS and DKS pottery, with a
diminishing amount of horseshoe handles and knobs, cord impressions and concave inwardly bevelled
rims with a pressed outside (Glasbergen’s rim type A) from HVS-1A to 1C. In the HVS-2 phase only
36
DKS pottery is present and in HVS-3A both DKS and LR pottery are present. The development ends
with phase HVS-3B, consisting of assemblages with only LR pottery.
More recently Theunissen (1999, 202-6) has given a chronological overview of decoration
elements on Middle Bronze Age pottery from 14C dated settlements and burials. This overview show
that barbed wire decoration, cord impressions, pared nail impressions, concave inwardly bevelled rims
with a pressed outside (rim type A), and decoration on the inside of the rim are early elements
occurring between ca. 1870 and 1530 BC. Fingertip decorated cordons, nail impressions on and
beneath the rim, and undecorated pottery appear throughout the entire Middle Bronze Age. So it
appears that the elements characteristic for HVS pottery (cord impressions, paired nail impressions,
and rim type A) have an early dating, and therefore this pottery has both typological and chronological
significance. As both DKS and LR pottery are defined by elements (decorated cordons, nail
impressions, absence of decoration) that are long lasting it is impossible to define a DKS and LR
phase or HVS-2 and HVS-3 phase. This pottery only has a typological significance. Theunissen
suggests to only use the term HVS pottery for assemblages containing early elements and to designate
assemblages without these elements ‘Middle Bronze Age B pottery’. Similarly Fokkens (2001, 248-9)
suggests the term ‘Early Hilversum’ for pottery containing early elements and ‘Late Hilversum’ (after
1500 BC) for pottery without them.
From this discussion it appears that the different Middle Bronze Age pot types do have
chronological significance, but that only complete pots allow to be dated. Dating pottery fragments by
decorative elements is only possible in the case of HVS pottery, as LR pottery is characterized by
elements that on their own have no chronological significance. To make matters worse, a Middle
Bronze Age A date for a LR pot was recently published by Lanting & Van der Plicht (2003, 160-1,
Cuyk 1965-216).
So it appears that typo-chronology provides little foothold for dating graves to the Middle
Bronze Age B. We therefore have to do solemnly with radiocarbon dates for an inventory of Middle
Bronze Age B graves. Fortunately, a catalogue of all radiocarbon dates from the Netherlands was
recently published by Lanting & Van der Plicht (2003), which includes a reasonable amount of Middle
Bronze Age B dates. This catalogue will provide the main source for my inventory.
3.2.2
Dating Late Bronze Age Graves
Like in the Middle Bronze Age metal artefacts are scarce in burials in the Late Bronze Age, so again
typo-chronological developments of surrounding feature type and pottery are the main means for
dating urnfield graves. As explained in chapter one, the urnfield period in the Netherlands comprises
both the Late Bronze Age (1050-800 BC) and the Early Iron Age (800-500 BC). Throughout this
period burials were surrounded by different kinds of features (Hessing & Kooi 2005, 637-9). In the
Late Bronze Age two types of surrounding features were created: closed circular ditches and both
interrupted and uninterrupted oblong ditches (the so-called ‘long beds’ or langbedden in Dutch). In the
37
Early Iron Age the same features are created, plus interrupted ring ditches and, at the end of the Early
Iron Age and beginning of the Middle Iron Age, rectangular and square ditches. So unfortunately, no
surrounding feature type is typical for the Late Bronze Age and therefore these features do not provide
a means for distinguishing Late Bronze Age burials from Early Iron Age ones.
Let us see whether pottery provides a better means for dating urnfield burials. Funerary pottery
from the Late Bronze Age is much more elaborate and diverse than Middle Bronze Age pottery. In
general, this would mean that more handles for dating would be available. However, there are a few
problems with the typo-chronological development of Late Bronze pottery. The first problem lies with
establishing the typo-chronological sequence. In the classical Urnfield cultures of Switzerland and
southwestern Germany pottery is usually dated by typo-chronology of accompanying bronzes.
However, as metals are scarce in Dutch burials – from which most pottery comes – this is usually not
possible in the Netherlands. The typo-chronological sequence of the Ha A and B pottery of the
Northwestern-group – which geographically corresponds to the area between the rivers Rhine, Scheldt
and Demer in the north, west and south and the line Hülsten-Gladbeck in the east – as established by
Marcel Desittere (1968, 30-60), is therefore mainly based on supposed parallel developments in
pottery of the northwestern group and pottery of the classical Rhine-Swiss and Nethermains-Swabian
urnfield groups and the groups of the Neuwieder Basin and Neiderrheinische Bucht. Although this
works for pottery with clear classical urnfield shapes and elements, it is more difficult to establish the
chronological dimensions of the locally derived pot shapes and elements. Also, it is possible that some
classical elements might have been in use longer in the northwestern group than in the classical
groups. The second problem with the typo-chronology of the Late Bronze Age pottery is the fluent
transition from Late Bronze Age to Early Iron Age (Ha B to C) pot types. The new, datable Hallstatt
elements in Ha C and D pottery are rather subtle (Desittere 1968, 31). This means that it is often hard
to distinguish Late Bronze Age from Early Iron Age pottery.
Despite these problems there are several elements that appear to be restricted to the Late
Bronze Age. The dating of these elements is based on the typo-chronological sequence as established
by Desittere (1968, 30-60). The work of Desittere is the only typo-chronological study of Urnfield
pottery from our region. As said, the supposed sequence is mainly based on typological comparison
with surrounding and classical urnfield groups and on typological sequencing, as accompanying
bronzes are scarce. And although the supposed sequence appears logical and sound, it has,
unfortunately, never been verified by radiocarbon dates as is done for the Middle Bronze Age pottery.
Lanting & Van der Plicht (2003, fig. 8) have recently published an overview of all radiocarbon dated
late Middle Bronze Age to Early Iron Age pottery from the southern Netherlands and some
Kerbschnitt decorated pottery from Belgium and Westfalen. Although this contains only a small
amount of pots, their dates do all correspond with Desittere’s typo-chronological sequence (except for
a pot from Borken-Hoxfeld that is conspicuously young). Desittere’s typo-chronology will therefore
be adopted in this study, but it has to be noted that a radiocarbon date based typo-chronology for
38
urnfield pottery from the Meuse-Demer-Scheldt area is long overdue. Besides Desittere, some
additional sources for dating stylistic elements will be used.
An overview of stylistic elements that are used to single out Late Bronze Age burials is given
in table 3.1 and figure 3.1. This list also includes some elements of which a very small number of Iron
Age examples are known, but that mainly date to the Late Bronze Age. These are treated as Late
Bronze Age elements. This means that our inventory of Late Bronze Age graves may include a few
Early Iron Age burials. However, as this inventory is only used to reconstruct general characteristics
of burial traditions and material culture and not to study single cases, this approach is warranted or at
least necessary, given the scarcity of means to distinguish Late Bronze Age from Early Iron Age
burials.
Some short comments need to be given on the list of elements. It may be clear that the types of
urn that are mentioned here as typical Late Bronze Age types, are only a small selection of the Ha B
urn types known. Desittere describes several urn types that are not restricted to the early parts of Ha B
(Desittere 1968, 40-5). However, to my opinion, these types are often unusable as a chronological
marker, as there appears to be a fluent typological transition from Late Bronze Age to Early Iron Age
examples of these urn types. This becomes clear when one, for instance, compares Desittere’s figure
VIII, b2 (a Ha B urn type with flaring neck) with some rather a-typical Schhräghalsurnen from the
Early Iron Age urnfield of Roermond-Mussenberg (for instance, Schabbink & Tol 2000, fig. 2.15, 18a,
30a or 97a). Also, the general assumption that all cylindrical necked urns date to the Late Bronze Age
(Kortlang 1999, 162) does not seem to hold as Ha C/D urns are known with necks that are only
slightly flaring or simply cylindrical (for instance, Schrabbink & Tol 2000, fig. 2.15, 42a, 73a, 79a). In
addition, some ‘Ha B urn types’ might, according to Desittere, even date to the Early Iron Age (for
instance, Desittere 1968, fig. 43, 3 or 51, 4). So it might be that some supposed Ha B urns are, in fact,
(a-typical) Ha C/D urns or the other way around. It is therefore decided to only use those urn types that
are close to Ha A and early Ha B types as Late Bronze Age markers.
The Ha A/early Ha B urn types are close to classical Urnfield culture urn types. Indeed, this
resemblance is one of the main criteria for assigning them an early date, besides their association with
early types of bronzes and the occurrence of early stylistic elements on them (Desittere 1968).
According to Dessitere (1968, 58) many of the classical urnfield culture pot types date Ha A or early
Ha B in the northwestern group. There they were quickly transformed to local pot types. Although the
chronological aspects of this typological ‘degeneration’ process cannot be precisely determined, due to
the scarcity of datable bronzes accompanying pottery, Desittere does hint at a general local
development from Ha A/Ha B1 classical urnfield pot types toward Ha C/D pot types. For instance, a
development from biconical, sharp-angled cylinder neck urns toward low, broad Schräghalsurne-like
pots. One may doubt, however, to what extent the chronological developments of the classical urnfield
culture pot types found in the northwestern group run in sync with those of the pot types found in the
region of origin. Indeed, recent 14C dates of sharp-angles, biconical pots, a supposed early type, found
39
Element
Cylindrical-necked urn
with sharp biconical profile
(Fig. 3.1.1)
Conical-necked urn with
lip
(Fig. 3.1.2)
Conical-necked urn
without lip (Randlose
Kegelhalsurne)
(Fig. 3.1.4)
Funnel-necked urn with
low shoulder-belly
transition
(Fig. 3.1.3)
Funnel-necked urn with
conical part between neck
and shoulder
(Fig. 3.1.5)
Tall cylindrical- or funnelnecked urns with sharp,
biconical profiles
Coarse ware
(Grobkeramik)
(Fig. 3.1.6)
Shoulder beaker
(Schulterbecher)
(Fig. 3.1.7)
Comment
Cylindrical (or slightly flalring) necked, biconical
urns with sharp profile of classical urnfield Ha A
shape. Some examples can be dated to early Ha B
by accompanying classical dekkeldosen or vertical
Kerbschnitt rows on the neck. Throughout Ha B
these cylindrical-necked urns are supposed to
become more rounded and shorter, to end in a low
urn with flaring rim, the Schräghalsurne. As the
transition between cylindrical-necked urns and
Schräghalsurnen is a fluid one and Ha C examples
of cylindrical-necked urns are know, only the
cylindrical-necked urns that are close in shape to
the classical Ha A urns will be treated as typical
Late Bronze Age pottery.
Desittere mentions several urns with conical neck
with lip and high, broad shoulders that can be
dated early Ha B on basis of secondary stylistic
elements. These urns and derived ones that are
close in shape to the them date Ha B. These
develop into Ha C pots that are reminiscent of
Koberstadt-urns.
Biconical or slightly rounded urns with lipless,
conical neck, similar to the Randlose
Kegelhalsurne known from groups of Nethermain,
are pure Ha A shapes. Several derived, more
rounded shapes appear to date Ha B. I will treat
those urns that are close in shape to the Ha A
Randlose Kegelhalsurne as typical Late Bronze
Age urn types.
Several examples of thin-walled, polished,
biconical urns with funnel-neck and low shoulderbelly transition can be dated early Ha B on basis of
secondary stylistic elements. These and derived
coarser, highly comparable pots will be treated as
typical Late Bronze Age pottery. Other kinds of
funnel-necked urns are often hard to distinguish
from Ha C Schräghalsurnen and Ha C examples of
such funnel-necked urns are known.
A rare kind of urn with funnel-neck, has a lowlying, conical part between neck and shoulder. On
the basis of secondary stylistic elements and
several analogues these can be dated (early) Ha B.
According to Desittere the tall cylindrical- and
funnel-necked urns (those that have a higher
height than width) with a sharp, biconical profile
date Ha B. Eventually these develop into more
pear-shaped Ha C/D shapes.
A kind of local coarse ware that is derived from
the Grobkeramik of the classical urnfield culture.
Two types can be found in the northwestern group:
those that are close to the classical types in shape
and decoration and a more derived type. Both date
predominantly to Ha B. This coarse ware is still in
use in Ha C, when it gains a more s-shaped profile
and comes to resemble pottery in Harpstedt-style.
Beakers that are closely related to the classical Ha
A Schulterbechern from southwest-Germany. For
Ha B Desittere discerns 6 other beaker types.
Although some of these contain classical urnfield
References
Desittere 1968, 30-1, 40-2
Desittere 1968, 30-1, 43-4
Desittere 1968, 44-5
Desittere 1968, 42-3
Desittere 1968, 42-3
Desittere 1968, 42-3
Desittere 1967; Desittere
1968, 38-9
Desittere 1968, 30-1, 34-6
40
Classical urn-like beakers
Beaker or dish with ear
(Henkeltöpfe or
Henkeltasse)
(Fig. 3.1.9)
Bowls of type Vogt XII
(Fig. 3.1.8)
Kerbschnitt decoration
(Fig. 3.1.2 & 8)
Hatched triangle decoration
(Fig. 3.1.3)
examples, none appear to be restricted to Ha B,
especially the locally derived shapes. So only the
Schulterbechern can be treated as a Late Bronze
Age pottery type.
Beakers that are closely related to the classical Ha
A beakers from southwest-Germany that resemble
contemporary urns.
Beakers or dishes with biconical profile, a short
flaring rim and band-shaped ear that resemble
southwest German and Swiss types. Two types
occur in the northwestern group: beakers without
decoration and those with decoration. Of the
former both Late Bronze Age and Iron Age
examples are known, at least from settlement
contexts. Only undecorated bowls and beakers
with an ear that originated below the rim appear to
be typical Late Bronze Age, according Van den
Broeke. The decorated Henkeltasse appears to
predominantly date Ha B on basis of associated
finds. Desittere mentions only one late Ha B/early
Ha C example from Bergeijk-Wilreit which has
what appears to be an early Kalenderberg-like kind
of decoration. However, this is not Kalenderberg
decoration yet and, according to Van den Broeke,
Kalenderberg was already present in the
assemblage of the 9th century BC site Wychen-De
Berendonk. So this might very well be a Ha B
beaker. From neighbouring areas Early Iron Age
Henktöpfen or Henkeltassen are also scarce, except
for Niedersachsen where eared beakers in Early
Iron Age Nienburger Tradition are known. So for
the northwestern group I will treat the decorated
eared beakers and dishes and the undecorated
examples with an ear originating below the rim as
typical for the Late Bronze Age.
A type of bowl that strongly resembles Swiss
bowls that are discussed by E. Vogt under row
XII. In the northwestern group this type of bowl
can be dated to Ha B by associated ceramics and
bronzes.
The defining element of the northwestern group.
Desittere defines this type of decoration as
impressed or cut-out triangles. Dates to Ha B in
our region. A motive consisting of vertical rows of
triangles accompanied by vertical carved lines
dates early Ha B.
According to Desittere hatched triangle decoration
is one of the types of decoration that are
contemporaneous to Ha B kerbschnitt decoration,
but that continue into Ha C. However, he does not
mention specific examples of Ha C/D pottery with
hatched triangle decoration. The only examples
known to me are of deckeldosen with this kind of
decoration, which predominantly date Ha B in the
northwestern group but of which also some
possible younger examples are known. From the
Iron Age urnfield of Beegden two Schräghals urns
with a derived example of hatched triangle
decoration are known. In the southern urnfield
groups, like those of the Niederrheinischen Bucht
Desittere 1968, 30-1
Desittere 1967; Desittere
1968, 37-8; Van den
Broeke 1991, 199, 206;
Verlinde 1987, 255-6
Desittere 1968, 33-4; Vogt
1930, 65-6
Desittere 1968, 45-50
Desittere 1968, 49-50;
Roymans 1999, fig. 5.8 &
5.17; Verwers 1966, 42;
Van der Sanden 1981, 324;
Ruppel 1990, 12-59, 106113
41
Pendant arch decoration
(Fig. 3.1.2)
Herringbone decoration
(Fig. 3.1.1)
Symmetrical meander
decoration
(Fig. 3.1.3)
Vertical grooves on
shoulder
(Fig. 3.1.5)
Widely-spaced parallel,
horizontal engraved lines
(Fig. 3.1.3)
Cordon with impressions
on neck-shoulder transition
Multiple rows of
impressions on wall
Nail impressions on rim
Impressions on outside of
rim
Wavy rim
and the Neuwieder Basin as discussed by Ruppel,
hatched triangle decoration appears to be a Ha A/B
phenomenon. So, like Verwers and Van der
Sanden, I will treat hatched triangle decoration as a
typical Late Bronze Age element, as it appears to
predominantly date to this period.
According to Desittere pendant arch decoration is
one of the types of decoration that are
contemporaneous to Ha B kerbschnitt decoration,
but that continue into Ha C. However, he does not
mention specific examples of Ha C/D pottery with
this type of decoration. No examples are known to
me. So, like Van der Sanden, I will treat
decoration consisting of one or multiple pendant
arches as typical for the Late Bronze Age.
According to Desittere herringbone decoration
possibly dates early Ha B, as it does in Switzerland
and Southern Germand. As no Early Iron Age
examples are known to me, I will treat this kind of
decoration as typical for the Late Bronze Age.
According to Gersbach a symmetrical meandershaped line-decoration is typical for early Ha B in
Switzerland and south-western Germany. In
accordance, Desittere assigns a similar date to such
decoration in the north-western group. This seems
to be confirmed by stylistic elements with which it
is accompanied on pots and by finds with which
pots with this type of decoration are associated.
Decoration consisting of vertical or slanting
grooves (Kanneluren), sometimes accompanied by
horizontal groovelines at the top (in tradition of the
so-called leicht geriefte Waren). In the
northwestern group this type of decoration has
been found on several early Ha B urns. In more
southern groups, like those of the
Niederrheinischen Bucht and the Neuwied basin,
similar decoration seems to be typical for Ha A.
A type of decoration that according to Desittere
has only been found on early Ha B pots.
In his discussion of pottery from Late Bronze Age
settlements of the southern Netherland, Van den
Broeke notes that a cordon with fingernail or –tip
impressions applied at the neck-shoulder transition
is absent in Early Iron Age.
In his discussion of pottery from Late Bronze Age
settlements of the southern Netherlands, Van den
Broeke notes that pottery with multiple horizontal
rows of nail or fingertip impressions is absent in
the Early Iron Age.
In his discussion of pottery from Late Bronze Age
settlements of the southern Netherland, Van den
Broeke notes that pottery with nail impressions on
the rim is absent in the Early Iron Age.
In his discussion of pottery from Late Bronze Age
settlements of the southern Netherland, Van den
Broeke notes that impressions on the outside of the
rim – a Middle Bronze Age tradition – are scarce
in the Early Iron Age.
In his discussion of pottery from Late Bronze Age
Desittere 1968, 49-50; Van
der Sanden 1981, 324
Desittere 1968, 37.
Desittere 1968, 13, 30-50;
Gersbach 1951
Desittere 1968, 42; Ruppel
1990, 13-27, 106-9
Desittere 1968, 42-3
Van den Broeke 1991, 207
Van den Broeke 1991, 207
Van den Broeke 1991, 207
Van den Broeke 1991, 207
Van den Broeke 1991, 207
42
Rim with structured lip
(Fig. 3.1.2 & 3)
Sharp offset at shoulderneck transition
Thin walled pottery
settlements of the southern Netherland, Van den
Broeke notes that pottery with wavy rims is scarce
in this period and absent in the Early Iron Age.
According to Gersbach rims with a lip that has a
structured profile on the inside are typical for early
Ha B in Switzerland and south-western Germany.
In accordance, Desittere assigns it a similar date
for these rims from the north-western group. This
dating seems to be confirmed by stylistic elements
with which it is accompanied on pots and by finds
with which pots with such a rim are accompanied.
In their discussion of pottery from Late Bronze
Age settlements of the southern Netherland,
Arnoldussen and Ball mention a sharp offset at the
shoulder-neck transition as typical for the Late
Bronze Age.
In his discussion of pottery from Late Bronze Age
settlements of the southern Netherland, Van den
Broeke notes that the average wall thickness of
pottery from the discussed Late Bronze Age
complexes is 0,7-0,8 mm. Such thin walled pottery
is absent from the Early Iron Age, only to be found
again amongst the Middle Iron Age Marne type
pottery.
Desittere 1968, 13, 30-50;
Gersbach 1951
Arnoldussen & Ball 2007,
196
Van den Broeke 1991, 206
Table 3. 1 Overview of stylistic pottery elements characteristic for the Late Bronze Age.
43
Fig. 3. 1 Examples of stylistic pottery elements characteristic for the Late Bronze Age. (After Desittere
1968).
44
in western-Belgium show that this pot type also occurs in later parts of the Late Bronze Age (De
Mulder et al. 2007, 508). Nonetheless, for now these classical pot types do seem to be restricted to the
Late Bronze Age and I think it is safe to assume that, if there is indeed a local typological
‘degeneration’ process with (at least a weak) a chronological aspect, an extensive Iron Age occurrence
of such types is unlikely. The classical urnfield culture pot types (and those that are typologically very
close to them) are therefore treated as Late Bronze Age markers.
Two types of pottery that are perhaps consipicuously lacking from this overview are the
undecorated Henkeltassen and the (hals)doppelkoni. In several publication Verwers dates these types
of pottery to the Late Bronze Age (Brunsting & Verwers 1975, 67; Verwers 1966, 42; Verwers 1975,
26). Desittere (1968), however, leaves biconical pottery un-discussed and does not state that
undecorated Henkeltassen are not produced in the Early Iron Age (Desittere 1968, 37). In fact, in
neighbouring areas doppelkoni are known from the Early Iron Age (see Verlinde 1987, 236-7, 250-1),
while Van den Broeke notes that undecorated Henkeltassen are known from Early Iron Age settlement
complexes. Only undecorated bowls and beakers with an ear that originates below the rim seems to be
a predominantly Late Bronze Age pot type (Van den Broeke 1991, 206).
Another type of pot dated to the Late Bronze Age by Verwers are amphora. On the basis of
northern analogues he assigns an Ha B date to amphora from the urnfield of Goirle-Hoogeind
(Verwers 1966, 42). However, Desittere (1968, 45) suspects a southern influence on the amphora from
the southern Netherlands and a survival here of amphora into the Early Iron Age. Van den Broeke
(1991, 206), on the other hand, notes that amphora, other than tall, slicked examples, are unknown
from Early Iron Agge settlements. This makes a Late Bronze Age date likely, but it might be that
amphora are exclusively funerary pottery in the Early Iron Age. To play it safe, I will therefore use the
ground shape of the pots to date amphora, as suggested by Desittere.
The overview contains several elements that are typical for Late Bronze Age pottery from
settlements. Some of these elements, although absent from Early Iron Age settlement complexes, may
be present on pottery from Early Iron Age funerary contexts. However, as I do not know any Iron Age
examples of these elements I will also use them to date urnfield pottery. Van den Broeke (1987)
himself suggests that typo-chronological schemes constructed on the basis of settlement complexes
can indeed be used to date urnfield pottery. He does note, however, that such schemes often describe
the chronological characteristics of complexes of pottery, not single finds. Such characteristics
comprise not chronological changes in the nature of technical or stylistic elements, but changes in their
relative frequencies. Yet, his scheme for Late Bronze Age settlement pottery (Van der Broeke 1991)
contains several elements that are not just present in low frequencies in the Early Iron Age, but are
nearly absent. Such elements can be used to date single finds or small complexes to the Late Bronze
Age.
So, all in all, it is clear that some uncertainties exist concerning urnfield pottery typochronology. To restrict the consequences of these uncertainties for the database of Late Bronze Age
45
burials, it has been decided to score the reliability of dates assigned to the pottery. A score of 1 is
given to those pots that are dated by style elements that are Late Bronze Age markers in settlement
contexts. Also, the Ha B urn types that are not of a classical Ha A/early Ha B shape and fall outside
the regular variation of Ha C/D urn types are scored 1. A score of 2 is given to those pots that are
dated by all other mentioned stylistic elements. A score of 3 is given to those pots that display more
than one of these elements.
Besides typo-chronology of pottery, radiocarbon has also provided several dates for Late Bronze Age
burials. These radiocarbon dates have been inventoried by Lanting & Van der Plicht (2003) and will,
of course, be used in the current study. A few burials have been dated by accompanying bronzes (see
Fontijn 2002, appendix 7.3 for an overview).
3.2.3
Dataset: Organization, Characteristics and Limitations
All burial ritual related activities that could be dated to Hallstatt A and B (1200-800 cal BC) by the
methods described above were collected in a MS Access database. The highest level record type in this
database is not, as the above discussion might suggest, a grave. Instead the more general term
‘context’ is used, which might be a flat grave, a barrow, or an unspecified grave type. These are all
phenomena known from Dutch urnfields. Per context the number of graves, individuals and objects
and their nature are described. Data for the compilation of the database was retrieved through an
extensive survey of published sources.
In total the database contains 96 contexts at which evidence for Late Bronze Age activities
were recorded. These activities consist either of primary burials underneath a new mound, secondary
burials in an existing mound, or instances of Late Bronze Age artefacts or charcoal found in or at
surrounding features. Several remarks on the dating of barrows and mound periods need to be made.
In general, the date of erection of a mound period is obtained by dating its primary burial. However, to
establish the order of burial in barrow (primary vs. secondary) requires the presence of mound body so
that the stratigraphical order of burials can be determined. Unfortunately, this is a requirement which
is not met for most urnfield barrows. Many barrows have been levelled before excavation. Those that
were not, were mostly excavated pre-WOII and – as a result of a cultural-historical framework –
published with a main focus on the typology of pottery, thereby leaving out information on barrow
stratigraphy. A rule of thumb has therefore been maintained for the dating of barrows: in case of a
single burial at the centre of a surrounding feature, this burial is treated as the primary burial of the
first mound period. In the case of long barrows, burials on the long axis have been denoted as primary
burials. Of all other, off-centre burials the order has been denoted as ‘unknown order’ of ‘unknown
mound period’. The supposed primary burials date the barrow in general. Off-centre Late Bronze Age
burials provide a terminus ante quem date: in the case of ring ditches they date the mound period
Middle Bronze Age-Late Bronze Age and in the case of long barrows they date the mound period
46
Middle Bronze Age B-Late Bronze Age. Finds and charcoal from surrounding ditches also provide a
terminus ante quem date for barrows. Here it is assumed that these ditches have not been open for
longer than 100-150 years, as signs of reopening a ditch have never been recorded. So, for instance, a
Late Bronze Age pot (dating 1050-800 calBC) from a surrounding ditch, dates the corresponding
mound period between 1200 and 800 calBC. Small amounts of charcoal or small artefact fragments
need not have been deposited in the ditch intentionally, but might have been objects lingering on the
surface that ended up in the ditch during the digging of the feature or after the ditch filled up. These do
therefore not provide a terminus ante quem date.
In total 96 contexts were inventoried from 23 sites. This number of sites is lower than the
number of Late Bronze Age burials inventoried by, for instance, Fokke Gerritsen (2001, appendix 2).
There are two reasons for this lower number. Firstly, my database only contains burials with
contextual information (information on burial structures, association of finds, etc.), while Gerritsen's
database also contains many sites of which it is only known that Late Bronze Age pottery was found.
Secondly, the criteria used in this study for dating pottery to the Late Bronze Age are probably stricter
than those used by other scholars, resulting in a lower amount of burial that can be securely dated to
this period.
From these 96 contexts, 29 barrows and 49 burials could be securely dated to the period 1050800 BC. This is, of course, a rather small dataset. In paragraph 5.5 it is estimated that the total
population of the southern Netherlands in the Late Bronze Age ranges between 595 and 2975
persosns. This would have resulted in several thousand burials, of which our database only contains
49. Such a small sample of course has several limitations. First of all, it will probably not contain the
total variation existing in burial rituals. This simply means that the absence of evidence is not the
evidence of absence. By taken into account undated phenomena from urnfields I will try to grasp the
variation in burial rituals that might have existed. The second limitation – which is one of small
samples in general – is that patterns in the relative frequency of phenomena (for instance, of different
kind of burial monument shapes) are often not statistically significant. And the last problem, concerns
not so much the size of the sample, but rather its nature. As almost all burials are dated by pottery, it is
a biased sample. The dataset almost only contains burials with pottery. Despite these limitations, the
dataset can give a general impression of the Late Bronze Age burial rituals, as we will see in the next
paragraph.
3.3 Patterns of Inception
Having explained how the dataset of urnfield burials was composed, it is time to discuss the
characteristics of this dataset. From the Middle Bronze Age to the Late Bronze Age several changes
occurred in burial practices. There were changes in burial method, burial and monument forms, and
ceramic and metal grave goods. In the following the characteristics of these components shall be
discussed for both the Middle Bronze Age and the subsequent Late Bronze Age. This way, an
47
overview shall be created of how, when and where the urnfield phenomenon was introduced in the
southern Netherlands. It must be noted, however, that the description of Middle Bronze Age burial
practices will be mainly a description of barrow burials. As barrows contain only a small selection of
the population (Theunissen 1993, 40), there must have been other kinds of burials that are
archaeologically invisible. It might be that the urnfield rituals have more in common with these
unknown kinds of burials. However, I believe that a comparison between barrow and urnfield burial
rites is warranted for as it is a comparison of likes with likes: they are both burials underneath a
barrow.
3.3.1 Burial Monuments
One of the most salient features of the Dutch urnfields is the diversity in burial monument forms.
Throughout the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age many small barrows were erected surrounded by
closed ring ditches, open ring ditches, post circles, oval ditches, rectangular ditches or square ditches
of different sizes. In this paragraph I will describe the monument shapes that were constructed in the
Late Bronze Age. However, I will start by giving a characterization of Middle Bronze Age burial
monuments, with a special focus on the Middle Bronze Age B.
The most prominent kind of burial monument erected in the Middle Bronze Age of the Southern
Netherlands, and of most parts of north-western Europe, is the round barrow. The first round barrows
appear in the Southern Netherlands at the beginning of the Late Neolithic (2900-2000 BC) and will be
erected until historical times. Through time changes occurred in shape, size, surrounding feature type
and burial forms of these round mounds. An overview of the characteristics of Late Neolithic and
Middle Bronze Age barrows of the Southern Netherlands has been given by Liesbeth Theunissen
(1999). A short recapitulation of her characterization of Middle Bronze Age barrows shall be given
here, with additional information on the burial monuments of the Middle Bronze Age B. At forehand
an important remark needs to be made, however. Radiocarbon dates for round barrows are scarce and
only a few mounds have primary burials containing grave goods that let a barrow be dated to a specific
sub-period of the Bronze Age. For this reason, typo-chronology of surrounding features has been the
main means for Theunissen to date round barrows (Theunissen 1999, 54-7). However, as said earlier,
Bourgeois has recently found that the different types of surrounding features (including the featureless
barrow) are roughly contemporary and that almost all barrows fall within Middle Bronze Age A and
the first quarter of Middle Bronze Age B (Bourgeois & Arnoldussen 2006; Bourgeois in prep.).
Theunissen’s subdivision between Middle Bronze Age A and B barrows is therefore not one of round
mounds from two different periods, but mainly one of two different types of Middle Bronze Age
barrows: those without and those with post circles. Some types of post circles do appear to come in
use slightly later than other kinds of surrounding features (post circle type 6-8 date between 16001400 cal BC; Bourgeois in prep.), though. So the differences in burial ritual between the Middle
48
Bronze Age A and B noted by Theunissen may have some chronological significance, but to what
extent is unknown. Also, they are not differences between the Middle Bronze Age A and B, but rather
between the beginning and the end of the Middle Bronze Age A.
Theunissen’s main unit of recording is not a barrow, but a mound period: a phase of barrow
expansion or reconfiguration. Throughout the Middle Bronze Age, mound periods with different kinds
of surrounding features have been erected: those with ring ditches, post circles or bank and ditch
(ringwalheuvels). Thirty Bronze Age mound periods without surrounding features are known. Barrows
with bank and ditch appear to date to the Early Bronze Age and the Middle Bronze Age A. They come
in different forms, with different configurations of bank and barrow. With only seventeen known
examples they are a rather rare phenomenon, which – except for one northern example – appears to be
restricted to the southern Netherlands and the southern parts of Europe in general. A more general
occurrence are barrow periods with a surrounding ring ditch (N=57). During the Middle Bronze Age
the ditches were dug at the foot of the mound. Their diameter varies between 5 and 19 m, with an
average of 11,3 m. A small group (N=7) has an opening at the east side.
The barrows with a surrounding post circle make up the largest group burial monuments. With
101 known examples they constitute nearly half of all barrows. For the post circles of the southern
Netherlands a typology has been posed by Glasbergen (1954b). In total he discerned 9 types of post
circles (fig. 3.2), of which the single, widely spaced post circle (type 3), the circle of widely spaced
paired posts (type 4), the single, closely spaced post circle (type 5), the double, closely spaced post
circle (type 6), the triple, closely spaced post circle (type 7), the quadruple and multiple post circle
(type 8) and the circle of close-set stakes (type 9) have been constructed around Middle Bronze Age
mound periods. Circles of stakes are sometimes found in combination with other types of post circles
(N=4) and sometimes as a temporary construction around a burial pit. The diameter of these post
circles ranges between 4 and 40 m, with an average of 10,3 m. The moment of their construction and
their appearance remain points of debate. The symmetry of some post circles and the presence of small
heaps of sand beneath the foot of some barrows suggest that at least some post circles were erected
before the building of the mound. Most of the post holes are round and are on average 40 cm (type 3)
or 60 cm (type 6-8) deep, indicative of posts with varying heights. Postholes (paalschaduw) have a
diameter between 20 and 25 cm. Some scholars suggest that the posts of type 3 and 4 features would
have been connected by cross-beams, after the example of English trilithons found at hengemonuments. However, the construction of post circles seems to be a tradition that was mainly
practiced on the Pleistocene sandy areas of the Netherlands and western Germany. A unique type of
post circle appears to be the circle of single, widely spaced paired posts, which seems to be limited to
south-eastern Noord-Brabant and the Belgian Kemps.
49
Fig. 3. 2 Post circle types defined by W. Glasbergen. (Theunissen 1999, afb. 3.8)
For the Early and Middle Bronze Age, Theunissen has recorded a total of 220 barrow periods.
However, these mound periods are not evenly distributed over the different sub-periods of the Bronze
Age. She discerns a diachronic patterning in which there is an increase through time in the number of
mound periods being erected. Apparently the round mound as the burial monument of choice
increased in popularity, peaking in the Middle Bronze Age B. But, as said earlier, the dating of most
mound periods by Theunissen is based on an erroneous typological argument. In fact, Bourgeois and
Arnoldussen (2006) have recently shown that of the 103 Dutch barrows with a secure radiocarbon
date, only 4,3 % date younger than 1400 cal BC. So, the peak in barrow periods observed by
Theunissen did not take place in the Middle Bronze Age B but the preceding Middle Bronze Age A.
So, the most salient aspect of Middle Bronze Age B burial monuments seems to be their almost
absence. But what kind of burial monuments were built then after 1400 BC?
As explained above, radiocarbon dating is the only means to securely date barrows to the
Middle Bronze Age B as there are no surrounding feature or grave good types characteristic for this
period. Table 3.2 gives an overview of the small group of barrows that might date to the Middle
Bronze B. Amongst these are of course the well-known round barrows surrounded by post circle or
ditch, perhaps a featureless mound and possibly even a late example of a barrow with bank and ditch.
Notable, however, is the presence of several monuments with a rather unusual shape (fig. 3.3). From
the burial ground at Kamps Veld near Haps a keyhole-shaped monument was found – monument O3 –
which was surrounded by a double row of closely spaced posts. Keyhole-shaped monuments are wellknown from urnfields in the Northern Netherlands, but are unknown in the southern Netherlands
except for an undatable monument from the Early Iron Age urnfield at Beegden (Roymans 1999).
50
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
Secondary
name
Tum. 1
Tum. 5
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
Tum. 15
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
Tum. 19
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
Tum. 18
Tum. 16
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
Tum. 2
Tum. 17
Haps-Kamps Veld
H4
Haps-Kamps Veld
O1
Haps-Kamps Veld
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
O3
Tum. 8
Toterfout-Halve Mijl
Tum. 12
Knegsel-Knegselse Hei
Tum. E
Toponym
Sittard-Hoogveld Site 8
Sample
Sample no.
Date BP
Date Cal BC
Shape
Type
Order
Crem 1a
Chr 42
Crem 44
Chr 41
Chr 40
Chr 64
Crem 65
Chr 16a
Crem 16
Crem 13
Chr 58
Chr 57
Crem 35
Chr 14a
Crem 14
Crem 240
Chr 218
Crem 136
Crem 162
Crem 319
Chr 49
Crem 48
Chr 85a
Crem 85
Chr 6
Crem 6
Crem
GrA-15845
GrN-989/1003
GrA-15439
GrN-1692
GrN-1605
GrN-1001
GrA-15855
GrN-1025/33
GrA-15428
GrA-15846
GrN-1820
GrN-1817
GrA-15849
GrN-1604
GrA-15432
GrA-19120
GrN-5689
GrA-19116
GrA-19117
GrA-19121
GrN-990/1822
GrA-15850
GrN-1818
GrA-16051
GrN-1028/34
GrA-15844
GrA-15366
3280 ±50
3305 ±35
3240 ±30
3175 ±60
3260 ±50
3270 ±60
3130 ±50
3250 ±50
3210 ±30
3230 ±50
3220 ±50
3260 ±50
3200 ±50
3230 ±50
3140 ±30
3160 ±45
3010 ±45
3165 ±45
3090 ±45
3130 ±45
3225 ±45
3140 ±50
3200 ±40
3080 ±60
3090 ±30
3040 ±50
3050 ±60
1682-1451
1681-1503
1608-1438
1608-1313
1663-1431
1687-1431
1502-1271
1636-1422
1530-1418
1618-1415
1615-1411
1663-1431
1609-1393
1618-1415
1495-1320
1524-1316
1398-1123
1528-1316
1452-1218
1499-1299
1610-1419
1516-1297
1605-1401
1494-1132
1431-1271
1418-1130
1436-1127
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
OVAL
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
RHV
RHV
KHS
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
CIR
BD
PC3
PC3
PC3
PC3
PC3
PC3
PC6
PC6
PC7
PC3
PC3
DTCH
PC7
PC7
DTCH
DTCH
PC6
PC6
PC6
PC3
PC3
PC5
PC5
PC6
PC6
DTCH
Prim
Prim
Prim
Sec
Sec
Prim
Sec
Prim
Prim
Sec?
Prim
Sec
Prim?
Prim
Prim
Prim
Sec
Prim?
Sec?
Prim?
Prim
Prim
Prim
Prim
Prim
Prim
Prim?
Veldhoven-Heibloem
Heuvel 100
Crem
GrA-19132
2990 ±45
1387-1057
RHV
DTCH
Unk
Haps-Kamps Veld
H10
Crem 45
Crem 440
Chr 443
GrA-19115
GrA-19123
GrN-5955
2820 ±45
2920 ±50
2975 ±35
1120-846
1293-949
1370-1056
RHV
CIR
CIR
DTCH
PC6
PC6
Unk
Prim?
Sec?
Period
Diam
1
1
1
1
2
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1?
1
1
1
1
1
1
1?
1
1
1
1
1?
1?
1?
?
?
1
1?
References
15 Glasbergen 1954
9.5 Glasbergen 1954
13 Glasbergen 1954
10-11 Glasbergen 1954
Glasbergen 1954
5.8/9.2 Glasbergen 1954
13.7 Glasbergen 1954
13 Glasbergen 1954
14 Verwers 1972
Verwers 1972
Verwers 1972
13 Glasbergen 1954
11 Glasbergen 1954
? Glasbergen 1954
?
Modderman &
Louwe Kooijmans
1966
? Verwers 1972
51
Oss-De Geer
28.64/65
Chr
GrN-19971
3000 ±60
1402-1055
UNK
UNK
Unk
?
Lent-Smitjesland
Fig. 8:2
Crem
GrA-16979
2985 ±50
1385-1053
NO
NO
Prim
1
Sittard-Hoogveld Site 8
Crem
GrA-15829
2980 ±50
1383-1051
NO
NO
Prim
1
Groot-Linden
Chr
GrN-14676
2935 ±30
1261-1041
NO
NO
Prim
1
Stein
Robenhausiengraf
Crem
GrA-12262/63
2945 ±35
1289-1026
UNK
UNK
Unk
?
Lent-Smitjesland
Fig. 8:3
Crem
GrA-16980
2915 ±45
1266-977
NO
NO
Prim
1
Lent-Smitjesland
Fig. 8:1
Crem
GrA-16977
2920 ±50
1293-949
NO
NO
Prim
1
Sint OedenrodeHaagakkers
Graf 63
Crem
GrA-19649
2910 ±60
1296-927
NO
NO
Prim
1
Chr 29
GrN-4921
2870 ±50
1213-912
CIR
DTCH
Sec
1?
Chr M3
GrN-1674
2850 ±50
1251-848
GRL
DTCH
Sec
1
Goirle-Hoogeind
Hilvarenbeek-Laag Spul
(charcoal from
surrounding ditch)
(charcoal from
surrounding ditch)
Jansen & Van
Hoof 2003
Van den Broeke
2001, fig. 8
Fokkens/Smits
1989
Verhart &
Wansleeben
1992
Van den Broeke
2001, fig. 8
Van den Broeke
2001, fig. 8
Van der Sanden
1981
? Verwers 1966b
Verwers 1975
Table 3. 2 All Middle Bronze Age B barrows. All 14C dates after Lanting & Van der Plicht 2003. Codes: Crem=cremated bone; Chr=charcoal; CIR=ciruclar;
OVAL=oval; KHS=Keyhole-shaped; RHV=dimensions of Riethoven type long barrow; GRL= dimensions of Goirle type long barrow; NO=no value;
UNK=unknown; BD=bank & ditch; DTCH=ditch; PC=post circle type; Prim=primary burial; Sec=secondary burial. Those burials with no values for shape and
surrounding feature are flatgraves.
52
However, unlike the northern examples the monument at Haps does not have a short, trapeziumshaped ‘beard’ but an elongated, oval one. Therefore this monument resembles more the other kind of
unusual shapes found amongst the Middle Bronze Age B barrows, the oblong monuments. Such an
oblong monument was found at Toterfout-Halve Mijl near Veldhoven, where barrow 2 was
surrounded by a ring ditch which was slightly ellipse-shaped. Monument O1 found at Haps-Kamps
Veld has a more prominent oblong shape: the first period of this monument consists of a rectangular
double row of closely spaced posts, which was at a later, unknown date extended along its long axis.
At Veldhoven-De Heibloem another two irregular, rectangular monuments were found, both
surrounded by a ditch. The monuments were built next to each other and were later covered by a
single round mound with a burial at its centre. The chronology of this complex monument is, however,
hard to establish, due to many large-scale disturbances. From a sand pit dug through the monument
came two cremations which were 14C dated and provide at least a Middle Bronze Age B terminus
ante quem date for one of the rectangular monuments.
From the Belgian part of the Meuse-Demer-Scheldt region comes a further example of an
oblong monument dated to the second half of the Middle Bronze Age B (Delaruelle et al. 2008; fig
3.3.1). At Beerse-Mezenstraat a monument was found that is surrounded by both a ditch and a triple
post setting. At the burial ground of Oss-Zevenbergen another oblong monument was found
surrounded by both a post setting and a ditch (fig. 3.3.3). However, here the surrounding features are
not contemporary – the post setting belongs to the first period of the monument, which dates either to
the Middle Bronze Age B or the Late Bronze Age (Valentijn in prep.).
At Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age urnfields oblong monuments are a well-know
phenomenon. In fact, Verwers (1966b) has developed a typology for monuments with elongated
surrounding ditches. He discerns two types: the Riethoven and the Goirle type. The former comprises
a group of short and wide monuments with an average length of 15,6m and a width of 5,5m. The
monuments have a length:width index ranging between 2 and 4. These monuments mostly occur as
isolated, single monuments. The latter type consists of long and small monuments. All monuments of
this type are longer than 30m, with an average length of 42m. Their width averages on 3,8m. Except
for one, none of the monuments of this type has an index between 4 and 8. Recently Kortlang (1999)
has defined a third type, the Someren-type longbed, in which the short sides of the surrounding ditch is
missing. This type seems to be restricted to the Early Iron Age.
The above mentioned Middle Bronze Age examples of oblong monuments are all of the
Riethoven kind. However, most differ from the urnfield examples of Riethoven-type monuments in
that they are surrounded by posts – something which seems to be rare in Late Bronze Age urnfields
(see below). Also, the Middle Bronze Age long barrows are of an unusual or irregular shape (HapsKamps Veld O1 and O3). For the unusual key-hole shaped monument from Haps, only one analogue
is known. A similar shaped monument was found at the Late Bronze Age/Early Iron Age urnfield of
Valkenswaard-Het Gegraaf, this time surrounded by a ditch (Brunsting & Verwers 1975). The authors
53
Fig. 3. 3 Overview of unusually shaped Middle Bronze Age B barrows. 1: Beerse-Mezenstraat (Delaruelle
et al. 2008, fig. 3); 2: Toterfout-Halve Mijl, mon. 2 (Glasbergen 1954, fig. 10); 3. Oss—Zevenbergen, tum.
2 (Verwers 1966c, fig. 6); 4. Haps-Kamps Veld, mon. O3 (Verwers 1972, beilage 2); 5. Oss-Zevenbergen,
mon. O1 (Verwers 1972, beilage 5); 6. Veldhoven-Heibloem, mon. 100 (Modderman & Louwe Kooijmans
1966, fig. 4).
54
date this monument to Ha B by pottery from the surrounding ditch. However, I do not agree with this
dating as this pottery does not display any of the Ha A/B elements summed up in paragraph 3.2.2. So,
only the oblong monuments from Veldhoven-De Heibloem seem to be of a typical Riethovenmonument shape. However, these monuments are associated, while the later Riethoven monuments
are characterized by an isolated occurrence. One example of a system of Riethoven type monuments is
known, though, from the Late Bronze Age urnfield at the Knegselsche Hei near Knegsel (Braat 1936).
So, with the Middle Bronze Age Riethoven monuments we seem to have a predecessor to the urnfield
long barrows, although they appear to be of an atypical kind.
Town
Beesel
Maastricht
Maastricht
Toponym
Dreessen Campken
Withuisveld
Ambyerveld
Date
LBA/EIA
LBA/EIA?
LBA/EIA?
Excavated
N
Y
Y
Prov
li
li
li
Maastricht
Lanakerveld
MBA-EIA
Y
li
Mook
LBA
Y
li
Panheel
Nieuwbouw Bovensteweg
20
Riethof
LBA/EIA
N
li
Stein
Sanderboutlaan
LBA/EIA
N
li
Swalmen
Bosstraat
LBA/EIA
Y
li
Vlodrop
Weert
Bergeijk
Best
Esch
Goirle
Heesch
Knegsel
Hilvarenbeek
Vlodrop
Boshoverheide
Wilreit
Aerlesche Heide
Hoogkeiteren
Hoogeind
Nistelrodeseweg
Knegselsche Hei
Laag Spul
LBA/EIA?
LBA/EIA
LBA/EIA
LBA/EIA
LBA/EIA
LBA/EIA
LBA/EIA?
LBA
LBA
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
Y
li
li
nb
nb
nb
nb
nb
nb
nb
Oosterhout
Hereweg
LBA
N
nb
Riethoven
SintOedenrode
Valkenswaard
Keersopperdijk/Einderheide
Haagakkers
LBA/EIA?
LBA/EIA
Y
Y
nb
nb
Het Gegraaf
LBA/EIA
Y
nb
Veldhoven
Heibloem
LBA/EIA
Y
nb
Zundert
Mencia
Sandrode/Akkermolenweg
LBA/IA
Y
nb
References
Desittere 1968, 117
Dijkman 1995
Van den Mark &
Schorn 2008
Meurkens & Van
Wijk 2009
Bouma 2009
Bloemers 1973, 2931
Schuyf & Verwers
1978
Lanting & Van der
Waals 1974
Bursch 1936
Bloemers 1988
Van Giffen 1937
Willems 1935
Van den Hurk 1980
Verwers 1966
Van Beek 2004
Braat 1936
Verwers 1975
Verwers & Beex
1978, 9-12
Holwerda 1913
Van der Sanden
1981
Brunsting & Verwers
1975
Modderman & Louwe
Kooijmans 1966
Kuijf 2005
Table 3.1 List of urnfields with indications of Late Bronze Age activities. li = Limburg; nb = NoordBrabant
Let us now take a look then at the burial monuments erected in the Late Bronze Age. For this
period I have inventoried a mere 29 burial monuments from 23 sites of which a burial at its centre or
on its long axis could be dated to this period (table 3.3 & table 3.4). Another 16 could be terminus ante
quem dated to the period 1500-800 BC (table 3.4). As probably almost none of these will pre-date
55
1325 cal BC or M. Br. D – the urnfield period in Europe at large – they will also be taken into
consideration here.
Of the 29 Late Bronze Age burial monuments 7 were long barrows (table 3.5). Another 7 date
between the period 1500-800 cal BC. Of these 12 are of the Goirle type, while only 2 are of the
Riethoven type. This does not mean, however, that the Riethoven type is a rare phenomenon at Late
Bronze Age urnfields. At 9 of the 12 sites of which a substantial area was excavated (and published
with map) and which contained Late Bronze Age burial monuments, monuments of the Riethoven
type were found which could not be dated . What is more, at the urnfield of Knegsel-Knegselsche Hei
at least 8 long barrows of the Riethoven type were found, while at this urnfield the only datable burials
date to the Late Bronze Age. Long barrows of the Goirle type are found at 6 sites. Of these, 4 sites also
contained Riethoven monuments. Of the long barrows of which the shape could be determined, 9 had
an oval shape, while one was rectangular with rounded edges. The width of the long barrows ranges
between 3,0-6,4 m, and their length between 15,9-77,8 m. All datable examples were surrounded by
ditches. Only at the urnfield at Knegsel-Knegselsche Hei a long barrow with both surrounding ditch
and post-setting was found, which unfortunately could not be dated.
Culture
1050-800 BC
1500-800 BC
1800-800 BC
Site type
Barrow
Flat grave
Possible flat grave
Possible grave
Grave unspecified
Barrow
Flat grave
Grave unspecified
Barrow
Count
29
11
9
5
5
17
3
1
8
Table 3.2 Number of inventoried examples per site type
The most common shape at Late Bronze Age urnfields is the round barrow. In total 22
examples could be dated to period 1050-800 cal BC, while another 9 could be dated between 1200800 cal BC. Eight examples of round mounds with off-centre Late Bronze Age burials were dated to
the period 1800-800 cal BC, but probably date to the Late Bronze Age or the period immediately
preceding it. Not only in the inventory, but also in all excavated urnfields round barrows dominate.
However, at some urnfields long barrows do make up a large part of the urnfield (Hilvarenbeek-Laag
Spul; Goirle-Hoogeind; Veldhoven-De Heibloem). Every one of the Late Bronze Age round barrows
was surrounded by a ring ditch and all the completely excavated ring ditches were closed, except for
one equivocally dated ditch with an opening to the northwest. The diameter of the round barrows
ranges between 4-8m, with an average of 5,9m. Some Late Bronze Age round barrows might have
been slightly bigger than this, as from several urnfields with signs of Late Bronze Age activity a few
undated barrows with a diameter a little over 10 m are known.
56
Culture
1050-800 BC
1500-800 BC
Long barrow type
Goirle
Riethoven
Goirle
1
-
2
3
2
2
3
2
5
Total
5
2
7
Table 3.3 Number of long barrows per type. The numbers 1 to 3 indicate the reliability of dating (see
paragraph 3.2.2).
Like the long barrows, none of the datable round mounds were surrounded by a post setting. In
fact, only at two urnfields with Late Bronze Age burials post settings have been found. At GoirleHoogeind a barrow with surrounding post-circle was found, which can be dated to the Middle Bronze
Age (Verwers 1966, 36). In the urnfield at the Knegselsche Hei three round barrows with post circle
and a long barrow with ditch and inner post setting were found. None of these could be dated, but a
Middle Bronze Age date is likely. Early Iron Age examples of post settings are known from the
Muese-Demer-Scheldt area, for instance from a round barrow from the Early Iron Age urnfield at
Mierlo-Hout (Tol 1999) and two long barrows with surrounding post setting from the Belgian site
Neerpelt-De Roosen (Roosens & Beex 1962). A continuing of the building of post-settings in the Late
Bronze Age can therefore be assumed, but on a far smaller scale than in the preceding Middle Bronze
Age.
In closing, I shortly want to discuss those graves that were not covered by a monument: the
flat graves. Only five locations with flat graves are known from the Middle Bronze Age (Theunissen
1999, 73). This low number is probably the result of the small scale of past barrow research, which
was limited to the excavation of the mound body proper and not its surroundings. Of urnfields a larger
part of the surrounding was usually excavated, often the entire urnfield. Not surprising, the more flat
graves are known from the Late Bronze Age then the preceding Middle Bronze Age. In total 14 flat
graves are known, 11 dating to 1050-800 cal BC and 3 dating to 1500-800 cal BC (table 3.4). Some of
these may actually be burials from levelled barrows without a surrounding structure, as they are often
found in between ring ditches. Unfortunately, this can no longer be ascertained.
3.3.2 Burial Practices
In the previous paragraph we discussed the types of burial monuments constructed during the Middle
and Late Bronze Age. Now we will take a look at the manner in which the deceased were interred in
these monuments. The fact that the deceased were cremated in both the Middle and Late Bronze Age
has been put forward by Verwers (1971) as an important indication that the transition between the two
periods was not associated with radical changes. Verwers has, however, paid little attention to the
manner in which the cremated remains of the deceased were interred in the two periods, other than the
ratio of urn to non-urn burials. Making use of Theunissen’s (1999, 78-86) overview of Middle Bronze
Age burial practices and the inventory of Late Bronze Age burials, I will give a more exhaustive
overview of burial practices of the Middle and Late Bronze Age.
57
For the Early and Middle Bronze Age Theunissen has recorded a total of 304 burials, of which 149
were located centrally under a mound period and another 158 were secondary.2 Amongst these were
three types of interments: inhumation, cremation and cremation in an urn. These were either placed on
the old surface, in an oval or round pit, in a burial pit (rectangular and twice as long as wide), in a treecoffin, between tree logs, in a stone niche, or in posthole of a surrounding post circle. Dominant are
the cremation burials: 71 primary burials and 143 secondary burials. This against 55 inhumation
burials, of which 43 central burials and 12 secondary burials.
According to Theunissen inhumation burial is practiced less and less through time from the
Late Neolithic onwards. But, as explained in paragraph 3.2.1, her dating of barrows is based on faulty
typological arguments. If we combine the numbers she gives for Middle Bronze Age A and B burials
(Theunissen 1999, table 3.11) it is clear that inhumation burial (N=47) was less often practiced during
the Middle Bronze Age than the burial of cremated remains (N=176). Cremation was practiced more
than three times as often as inhumation. However, this appears to be mainly the case for secondary
burials: from the Middle Bronze Age in total 49 primary cremation burials are known against 36
inhumation burials – less than 1,5 times as many – but only 11 secondary inhumation burials are
known against a massive 127 cremation burials – almost twelve times as many! So for secondary
burials an obvious preference for cremation burial seems to exist.
However, this preference may have been less strong than these numbers suggest. Whereas a
cremation burial always leaves clearly discernable remains in the form of cremated bones, inhumation
burials are often much more difficult to recognize. As unburned human remains only rarely survive on
the sandy soils of the southern Netherlands and only 9,2 % of all Middle Bronze Age burials contain
grave gifts other than containers of cremation (Theunissen 1999, 86), it is mainly the outline of a
burial pit or tree coffin which make an inhumation burial recognizable. When it comes to burials at the
centre of barrow, excavators are often more keen on discerning the remains of a burial, resulting in a
more easy discovery of a primary inhumation. In the case of secondary inhumation burials, the
remains are more difficult to recognize. First, soil development may have obliterated the traces of a
burial. Also, the excavation strategy determines whether a secondary inhumation will or will not be
recognized. Only when a barrow has been excavated in horizontal layers, will such a burial be
recognized – something which often has not been the case. The true number of secondary inhumations
may therefore have been significantly higher. However, in the northern Netherlands over 300
secondary inhumation have been found in about the same number of barrows as known in the southern
Netherlands (Lohof 1994), even though the same post-depositional processes have been at work there.
So, although the number of secondary inhumations may in reality have been higher, a strong
preference for cremation in secondary burials still seem to have existed, but not as strong as
Theunissen’s numbers suggest.
2
These are the totals given by Theunissen (1999, 79), but the observant reader will notice that the amount of
central and secondary burials combined comes to a total of 307 burials, instead of 304 burials.
58
Inhumation burials are found on the old surface, in burial pits and in tree-coffins. The latter
two types are found both as primary and secondary burials, while the former only as a primary burial.
Like inhumation burials, cremated remains were also interred in different ways (table 3.6). The
numbers that will be given here are the combined numbers of Early and Middle Bronze Age burials, as
Theunissen does not give separate numbers for the totals of the two periods. But as only 5 Early
Bronze Age burials are known, the combined numbers do not differ much from the Middle Bronze
Age totals. Some cremated remains were found on the old surface beneath a barrow. Sixteen primary
cremations were found on the old surface beneath barrows (22,5%), against a mere 12 secondary
examples (8,4%). Cremated remains in an urn are found in an equal number in primary position
(N=16), but notably more often in secondary position (N=55; 38,2%). The number of primary urn
burials may originally have been higher, as quite a number of urns were lost to so-called urnendelvers
– local people who dug through the centre of barrows in search of urns to sell to museums and other
collectors. Almost all of the urn burials were interred in a pit; only a few examples were deposited on
the old surface, in a tree coffin, or in a stone chamber. Cremated remains were also interred in a pit
without a ceramic container: 9 times as a primary burial (12,7%) and 19 times in secondary position
(13,3%). Some of these might date from the urnfield period, though. This group likely contains some
archaeologically invisible variation: some remains were probably interred in a decayed organic
container, others were interred as a pack without a container, while others were probably just scattered
in the burial pit. Sometimes cremated remains were deposited in a burial pit or in a tree-coffin. The
former was found 19 times as a primary burial (26,8%) and 9 times as a secondary burial (6,3%). The
latter was found 9 times as a primary burial (12,7%) and 22 times as a secondary burial (15,4%).
These two types of burials have the appearance of an inhumation burial, but instead cremated human
remains were interred. The last variant is the burial of cremated remains in a post hole of a
surrounding feature. Twenty-six instances of this type of burial are known (18,2%), of which 7 were
found in the surrounding structure of one barrow at Toterfout-Halve Mijl.
Variant
On old surface
On stone floor
In pit
In burial pit
In tree-coffin
At bottom of post hole
Primary
16
2
9
19
9
-
%
22,5
2,8
12,7
26,8
12,7
-
Secondary
12
19
9
22
25
%
8,4
13,3
6,3
15,4
17,5
Total
28
2
28
28
31
25
%
13,1
0,9
13,1
13,1
14,5
11,7
In urn on old surface
In urn in pit
In urn in tree-coffin
In urn in stone chamber
In urn at bottom of posthole
1
12
3
-
1,4
16,9
4,2
-
2
52
1
1
1,4
36,4
0,7
0,7
3
64
1
3
1
1,4
29,9
0,5
1,4
0,5
Total
71
143
214
Table 3.4 Variation of cremation burials from the Early and Middle Bronze Age. (After Theunissen 1999,
table 3.9)
59
If we look at these totals and percentages (table 3.6) a view things stand out. For the primary
burials two types of interment appear at first sight to have been practiced more often than others: the
deposition of cremated remains on the old surface beneath the barrow (22,5%) and deposition in a
burial pit (26,8%). The high amount of cremation burials in a burial pit is significant, because it
indicates that a reference to inhumation was maintained as such a large pit is unnecessary from a
practical point of view. The same probably goes for the tree-coffin burials (12,7%). Apparently, the
shape of the pit was determined by considerations other than the type of human remains. Nonetheless,
the interment in a pit, both the urn and non-urn burials combined, appears to be largest group of
burials (29,6%). The same goes for the secondary burials, but here the pit burials make up almost half
of all burials! The majority of these are urn burials, which might be explained by the fact that ceramic
containers are more easily recognized. Interestingly, the two types of burials that dominated amongst
the primary burials – burials on the old surface and in a burial pit – only form a minor part of the
secondary burials. For the burials on the old surface, this is to be expected as it would mean that such a
secondary burial needs to happen more or less contemporary with a primary burial, before the
construction of a mound period. It is, however, more difficult to explain the low amount of cremations
in a burial pit. To a certain extent it might be explained by the manner in which barrows were
excavated. Only when a mound is excavated in horizontal levels will a burial pit probably be
recognized, contrary to urn burials and burials in small pits which do not need a rather extensive
excavation level to be recognized. This pattern might, however, also simply be an archaeological
artefact. We already saw that amongst inhumation burials secondary burials are less common (21,8%
of all inhumation burials) than amongst cremation burials (66,8%), even if we take into account the
secondary inhumation that might not have been recognized during excavation. So, if cremation burials
in a burial pit or tree-coffin indeed reference to inhumation burials (or the ideas behind such burials), it
is to be expected that there are relatively less secondary burials than primary ones. Just as for
inhumation burials.
Culture
1050-800 BC
Site type
Barrow
Flat grave
Unspecified
1500-800 BC
Barrow
Flat grave
Unspecified
Burial Type
Container
Non-container
Container
Non-container
Unspecified
Container
Unspecified
Container
Non-container
Container
Container
1
3
3
1
1
1
-
2
11
7
1
1
1
1
2
1
-
3
5
6
4
1
1
2
1
3
2
1
Total
19
13
8
2
2
4
1
1
6
3
1
Table 3.5 Count of burial types for Late Bronze Age burials. The numbers 1 to 3 indicate the reliability of
dating (see paragraph 3.2.2).
60
Unfortunately, this characterization of burial practices concerns the entire Early and Middle
Bronze Age. Although it mainly concerns the period 1800-1400 BC, as only a few Early Bronze Age
burials are known and most barrows were built before 1400 BC, this is still quite an extensive period
and does not give any detail on the period in which we are most interested, the Middle Bronze Age B.
In the previous paragraph we gave an overview of all barrows that might date to the Middle Bronze
Age B (table 3.2). When we look at the manner in which the deceased were interred in these mounds,
we find almost the entire variety of burial practices known from the Middle Bronze Age as a whole.
Cremated remains are placed on the old surface, in a tree coffin, in a burial pit, in an urn, in a pit, and
at the bottom of postholes. Cremations in burial pit or tree-coffin are only found in barrows that predate 1400/1350 cal BC, though. The other types seem to have been used the entire period up to the
Late Bronze Age. One has to keep in mind, however, that this is only a small sample and that these
barrows come mainly from two sites. The variation of burial practices in the period preceding the Late
Bronze Age may, therefore, have been larger than suggested by these burials. It is, of course, also a
biased sample, as these barrows are mainly dated by (primary) cremation burials. Inhumation may
very well have been practiced during this period, but this kind of burial is simply less likely to be
included in the sample.
So, now that we have characterized the burial practices of the Middle Bronze Age, let us look
at the manner in which the deceased were interred during the Late Bronze Age. A problem with a
discussion of the burial practices of this period is the lack of information on the interments in
published excavation reports. More often than not, nothing is said about the structure in which
cremated human remains were deposited. Usually, only information on the accompanying pottery is
given – but often it is not even mentioned whether or not this pottery contained the associated
cremation. The little information that was available on the interments is collected in the database. In
total 49 burials from the period 1050-800 BC were inventoried, and another 11 from the period 1500800 BC. The majority of these were burials in an urn (table 3.7) – this is to be expected, since most
burials were dated by accompanying pottery. Verwers (1971, 59-60) has already shown that the
percentage of non-urn burials at urnfields with Late Bronze Age burials is, in fact, higher than at those
urnfields with Early Iron Age burials: 44% or higher.
All urn burials of which it was noted in the excavation report in what kind of structure they
were found, were found in a pit (N=8 for the period 1050-800 BC). The same is true for the non-urn
burials (N=8). For only four pits the diameter were given in the excavation report, which range
between 45 and 60 cm. However, when one looks at the excavation maps of the Late Bronze Age
urnfields more or less round, rather small pits seem to be the rule. Oblong pits of the size of
inhumation burial pits, as found in the Middle Bronze Age, appear to be absent or at least form only a
very minor part of the Late Bronze Age burial practices.
61
Culture
1050-800 BC
Position
Unspecified
Centre
Off-centre
Between centre-edge
Edge
1500-800 BC
Surrounding feature
Unspecified
Centre
Off-centre
Burial type
Container
Possible grave
Container
Non-container
Possible grave
Container
Non-container
Container
Non-container
Possible grave
Container
Container
Container
Possible grave
Non-container
Non-container
1
3
1
2
1
1
1
1
-
2
5
5
6
1
2
1
1
2
2
2
-
3
2
1
4
3
1
1
1
2
1
2
1
Total
2
8
7
10
6
3
2
1
1
3
5
1
1
1
5
1
Table 3.6 Burial type per horizontal position in Late Bronze Age barrows. The numbers 1 to 3 indicate the
reliability of dating (see paragraph 3.2.2).
Information on the stratigraphical order of burials is often lacking, either because the
excavated urnfield barrows were already levelled before excavation or because the information has
simply not been published. Only the horizontal position of most burials could be determined, but no
apparent patterning seems to exist in the amount of urn vs. non-urn burials at the different locations
(table 3.8). Only the amount of non-urn burials at the centre of the barrow seem to be slightly higher
than that of de-central urnless burials. Urn burials are found in equal amount in central and de-central
position.
Of 17 Late Bronze Age burials the amount of cremated remains from the burial has been noted
in the excavation reports. Their weight ranges between 49 and 1101 grams, with an average of 557 g
(table 3.9). Only one grave contained 1900 g of cremated bones. About the same numbers can be
given for 7 burials that date to the period 1500-800 cal BC. The average weight of cremated remains
might in reality have been slightly higher as some of the burials with a low amount of bone might be
disturbed graves. However, all in all it is clear that for most burials there was no intention to collect all
the cremated remains from the pyre. It is hard to say how meticulously the human remains were
collected from the pyre debris: both examples of Late Bronze Age burials containing no charcoal
(N=2) and lots of charcoal (N=2) are known. For most burials it was not noted in the excavation
reports whether the pit contained any charcoal or if it did, how much (N=6).
It is hard to compare the manner in which cremated remains were collected in the Late Bronze
Age to the way it was done during the Middle Bronze Age, as Theunissen (1999, 91-4) gives little
information on this. She only gives the average weight of human remains of the cremation burials
from Toterfout-Halve Mijl. This is only slightly higher than the weight of Late Bronze Age cremations
– like in the Late Bronze Age, during the Middle Bronze Age not all cremated human remains were
collected from the pyre.
62
Town
Toponym
Sec. name
Period
Maastricht
Maastricht
Maastricht
Sint-Oedenrode
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Hilvarenbeek
Sint-Oedenrode
Zundert
Zundert
Hilvarenbeek
Sint-Oedenrode
Hilvarenbeek
Mook
Sint-Oedenrode
Maastricht
Sint-Oedenrode
Withuisveld
Withuisveld
Withuisveld
Haagakkers
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Laag Spul
Haagakkers
Mencia Sandrode/Akkermolenweg
Mencia Sandrode/Akkermolenweg
Laag Spul
Haagakkers
Laag Spul
Nieuwbouw Bovensteweg 20
Haagakkers
Ambyerveld
Haagakkers
Findnr. 17
Findnr. 17
Findnr. 15
Grave 62
Findnr. 137
Findnr. 138
Findnr. 112
Findnr. 2
Findnr. 9
Findnr. M5
Findnr. 144
Findnr. 130
Findnr. 48
Findnr. 45
Findnr. 88
Findnr. 133
Grave 49
B14
B12
Findnr. 46
Grave 68/69
Findnr. 89
Feat. 1
Grave 45
Feat. 21
Grave 37
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1050-800 BC
1500-800 BC
1500-800 BC
1500-800 BC
1500-800 BC
1500-800 BC
1500-800 BC
1500-800 BC
Barrow
type
FL
FL
FL
FL
IND
LB
IND
LB
RB
FL
FL
FL
LB
LB
LB
LB
RB
FL
FL
RB
RB
LB
FL
RB
FL
RB
Weight
Age
Sex
-
24-40
New born
3-4
Young child
Undet.
Undet.
Child
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Male
Male
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
Female
Undet.
Undet.
Undet.
49
63
68
102
257
317
378
387
528
596
606
614
779
818
900
1101
1900
88
93
263
617
772
900
910
Adult
30-60
22-24
older child/juvenile
18-25
adult
adult
Table 3.7 Weight, sex and age of cremated inidviduals found in Late Bronze Age burials.
63
3.3.3 Ceramics
In this paragraph I will give a characterization of the pottery found in Middle Bronze Age and Late
Bronze Age burial contexts. Whereas the funerary pottery of the Middle Bronze Age is known by its
rather crude appearance and limited variation, the urnfield pottery is generally well/made and displays
a broad variety of shapes and decoration motifs. Here I will describe how the earthenware repertoire
has changed from the Middle to Late Bronze Age.
A description of the general Middle Bronze Age pottery types was already given in paragraph 3.2, so
it will suffice to give a short recapitulation here. Glasbergen (1969) has defined three types of pottery
for the Middle Bronze Age on the basis of the shape, rim type and decoration of pots. Hilversum
pottery (HVS) is characterized by more or less biconical pots, both with and without cord, nail or
hollow bone or reed impressions on the collar (triangles, meshes, groups of vertical lines, wavy lines,
groups of ovals, or series of circles) and sometimes cord or nail impressions on the rim (triangles,
parallel lines, or sometimes a single line). Some Hilversum pots have horseshoe shaped handles. Later
HVS pots have a more ‘truncated-pear shape’ (afgeknot peervormig), and are sometimes decorated
with cord impressions, but mostly with nail impressions (Glasbergen 1969, 14, 18-9). Drakenstein pots
(DKS) are more or less ‘truncated-pear shaped’ or bucket shaped. According to Glasbergen the earliest
DKS pottery types have an inward slanting rim, often with a fingertip-decorated cordon (stafband).
The later types have rounded rim and perhaps a row of fingertip impressions several centimetres
below the rim, if decorated at all (Glasbergen 1969, 19). Laren pottery (LR) is barrel or bucket shaped,
mostly undecorated (only sometimes a row of fingertip impressions underneath the rim) (Glasbergen
1969, 27). According to Glasbergen (1969) DKS and LR pottery represented typological devolution
from HVS pottery and therefore a chronological development. Radiocarbon dates of HVS, DKS and
LR pots have shown, however, that HVS indeed is limited to Middle Bronze Age A, but that DKS and
LR pots occur in both Middle Bronze Age A and B (see paragraph 3.2).
On the basis of radiocarbon dating some pots might date to the period between 1500 and 1200
cal BC (table 3.10 & fig. 3.4). Interestingly, we do not find any DKS pots amongst these, but only
simple bucket-shaped LR-like pottery (cf. Bourgeois in prep.). Even though DKS pottery is known
from settlements contexts from this period, it appears that only the LR-like pots have been used as
urns during the Middle Bronze Age B. And this type of pot was possibly still used at the beginning of
the urnfield period as shown by the examples from Lent-Smitjesland and Sint-Oedenrode-Haagakkers
(fig. 3.4.8-10). Notable are the vessels from Haps and Groot-Linden (fig. 3.4.6, 7 & 10) that obviously
still retained the high shoulders of the Middle Bronze Age pots, but that differ from them in having a
tripartite build-up. Both the transition from belly to shoulder and from shoulder to neck are rather
pronounced on these vessels. These unusual shapes all date mainly to the period of the Beginnenden
64
Nr.
1
2
3
Hoge en Lage Mierde
Haps
Secondary
Sample
name
Tum. C
Crem 3
O1
Crem 162
Knegsel
Tum. E
Chr
GrN 1029/34
3090 ±30
1431-1271
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Haps
Lent-Smitjesland
Groot-Linden
Haps
Lent-Smitjesland
Lent-Smitjesland
Sint OedenrodeHaagakkers
Berghem-Zevenbergen
H10
Fig. 8.2
Crem
Chr 443
Crem
H10
Fig. 8.3
Fig. 8.1
Crem 440
Crem
Crem
GrA-15844
GrN-5955
GrA-16979
GrN-14676
GrA-19123
GrA-16980
GrA-16977
3040 ±50
2975 ±35
2985 ±50
2935 ±30
2929 ±50
2915 ±45
2920 ±50
1418-1130
1370-1056
1385-1053
1261-1041
1306-981
1266-977
1293-949
Verwers 1972
Van den Broeke 2001
Fokkens/Smits 1981
Verwers 1972
Van den Broeke 2001
Van den Broeke 2001
Graf 63
Crem
GrA-19649
2910 ±60
1296-927
Van der Sanden 1981
Tum. 1
-
-
-
M Br D/Ha A
Verwers 1966
11
Toponym
Sample no.
Date BP
Date cal CB
References
GrA-19106
GrA-19117
3270 ±50
3090 ±45
1668-1436
1452-1218
Willems 1936
Verwers 1972
Glasbergen 1954b, 103 & fig.
59:6
-
Table 3.8 Ceramic vessels that could be dated to the Middle Bronze Age B. 14C dates after Lanting & Van der Plicht 2003.
65
Fig. 3.1 Overview of Middle Bronze Age B pottery. Numbers correspond to table 3.8.
66
and Älteren Urnenfelderzeit (1300-1000 cal BC) and perhaps display the first signs of influences
from the central European urnfield culture, such as the “Urnenfelder-Schrägrand” on the vessels
from Haps (cf. Ruppel 1985, 23).
The earliest clear central European influences on the pottery from the southern
Netherlands can be found on the so-called shoulder beakers, the sharp-angled cylindrical necked
urns, the funnel-neck urns with low-lying belly or with conical part between neck and shoulder,
and the liplose kegelhalsurnen (fig. 3.1). However, these do not date earlier than the end of Ha A
and the beginning of Ha B (cf. Ruppel 1985; Desittere 1968). One may wonder, however,
whether no other vessel types were produced during Ha A than the above mentioned a-typical
Middle Bronze Age shapes. Every Dutch Late Bronze Age urnfield contains numerous pots
which on typological grounds cannot be further assigned to a sub-period of the urnfield period, as
they show no affinity with central European pottery types. It might very well be that some of
these vessels actually date to the earlier parts of Ha A. For instance, at the Belgian urnfield near
Donk a grave was found containing an amphora and beaker which could not be dated on
typological grounds. However, these vessels were accompanied by an early Ha A bronze pin
(Ruppel 1985, 21-3).
From the Ha B period many vessels are known – both vessel types with apparent central
European influences and locally derived types. As an extensive characterisation of this pottery
has been given by Desittere (1968) I will not discuss them any further here. The main difference
between the Late and Middle Bronze Age pottery is the broad range of pottery shapes and the
varied decoration found in the Late Bronze Age. A new element in this period is polishing of the
vessel and overall the urnfield pottery is substantially thinner. However, the crude finishing that
typifies the Middle Bronze Age vessels appears to continue in the rather coarse Grobkeramik.
Thus far, I have mainly discussed the typology of Middle and Late Bronze Age pottery.
Let us now take a look at how ceramics were deposited in burials during these periods. We
already saw that during the Middle Bronze Age cremation burial in an urn was a common
phenomenon, especially for secondary burials. However, only two examples are known from this
period of pottery from a burial that was not used as an urn (Theunissen 1999, 89). And in this it
differs significantly from the Late Bronze Age ceramics from burial contexts. If we look at the
location in the grave of the pottery in our database, we see a distinct difference with the Middle
Bronze Age pots (table 3.9): more than half of the pottery found in Late Bronze Age burials was
not used as an urn. A part of this non-urn pottery is possibly made up by destroyed urns, but even
67
if so the amount is significantly higher than for the Middle Bronze Age pots. And then there is
also the large amount of pottery found in surrounding ring ditches. All in all, it appears that not
only the types of pots used in Late Bronze Age burial rituals seems to have changed significantly,
but also the manner in which they are used.
Culture
1050-800 BC
Material
Ceramics
1500-800 BC
Ceramics
Location
Container
Lid of container
Outside container
In container
Amongst cremation
Next to cremation
Surrounding feature
Undetermined
Amongst cremation
Container
Undetermined
1
5
2
1
1
5
14
-
2
12
3
7
11
1
18
29
1
2
3
8
2
2
4
2
4
1
3
1
Total
25 (42,4%)
4 (6,8%)
3 (5%)
10 (16,9%)
15 (25,4%)
2 (3,4%)
25
47
1
4
3
Table 3.9 Location of ceramics in Late Bronze Age burials. The numbers 1 to 3 indicate the
reliability of dating (see paragraph 3.2.2).
3.3.4 Metal Objects
Now that we have taken a look at the most common category of materials from burials contexts,
the ceramics, we will consider the group of artefacts that are only seldom found in graves: metals.
Both in the Middle and the Late Bronze Age metals were only rarely deposited in burials, while
many are known from natural places as rivers, brooks and marshes. In this paragraph I will give a
short characterization of the kind of metal artefacts found at burials contexts of the Middle and
Late Bronze Age.
Of all Early and Middle Bronze Age burials only 13 (4,3%) contain metal artefacts or indications
for these. All of these are bronzes: axes (N=2), a chisel (1), a small ring (1), small plates (2),
tweezers (1), and several unidentifiable objects (2). Of these, the axes and chisel are exotic,
imported items. Besides the bronze items, cremated bones of 7 burials display green staining,
indicative of bronzes that have been burned on the pyre alongside the human remains. Notably,
all bronze objects were found in primary graves, apparently all unburned. The cremated bones
with green staining, on the other hand, were all found in secondary burials (Theunissen 1999, 878).
On the basis of 14C-dating and typo-chronology all the bronzes can be dated to the
Middle Bronze Age A. No Middle Bronze Age B examples of metal artefacts from graves are
known, while in this period the deposition of metals at natural places has increased compared to
68
the preceding periods (Fontijn 2002). From the southern part of the province of Limburg four
barrows are known, though, in which bronzes were deposited in the mound body without
accompanying human remains (Theunissen 1999, 88). In these barrows were found a dagger, two
sickles, a spearhead and three axes, all dating to the Middle Bronze Age B or the beginning of the
Late Bronze Age. So, bronzes are known from burial contexts, but apparently as votive deposits
rather than grave gifts.
During the Late Bronze Age the deposition of metal artefacts in graves occurs more often
than in the preceding periods. For the urnfields from the Meuse-Demer-Scheldt area the
percentage of graves containing bronzes ranges between 0 and 18%. – still the exception rather
than the rule (Fontijn 2002, table 9.1). According to Fontijn (2002, 241) this increase in the
number of graves with metals need not be significant, as we actually know only a small
percentage of all Middle Bronze Age burials, the barrow burials. However, when we compare
likes with likes - Middle Bronze Age barrows with urnfield barrows - the increase is rather
substantial for some urnfields.
The bronze items from burials dating to the Late Bronze Age are from a different nature
than those from Middle Bronze Age burials. Our database of Late Bronze Age burials contains 15
bronze objects, of which 8 pins and 7 unidentified objects. They come from both centre and offcentre burials. In general, pins are the most recurrent metal artefact types known from urnfields,
which are followed by rings and then pendants, gilded rings, spirals, bronze beads, and several
razors and tweezers. Pendants, gilded rings, razors and tweezers appear to be restricted to the
Early Iron Age burials. However, their predominance in Iron Age burials might be result from the
fact that that these are known in larger numbers than Late Bronze Age burials – pendants,
tweezers and razors may have occurred in Late Bronze Age burials, albeit in low numbers.
Weapon burials do not seem to occur before the end of the Late Bronze Age (Fontijn 2002, 198203).
Besides being the most recurrent type of artefact, the bronze pin also shows most
variation. In general they are less conspicuous, though, than most Middle Bronze Age B pins. It is
unclear whether these are local items or imports: although most pin-types are known from other
regions, their rather simple form and techniques suggest a local production. The same is probably
true for the bronze rings, which are mostly plain and very simple. These come in different sizes,
suggesting different functions such as bracelets, finger rings and perhaps even horse gear (Fontijn
2002, 199). All these bronze objects were found in different states among the cremated human
remains; both in pristine, unburned state and in deformed state. This means that the same types of
objects sometimes were placed on the deceased before cremation and were collected after burning
69
of the body, while at other times were added to the cremated remains after burning (Fontijn 2002,
203-4).
3.4 Discussion
Ever since W. Kersten (1948) dubbed the term Niederrheinische Gräbhugelkultur for the Ha A
and B groups living in the Lower Rhine basin, an ongoing discussion has concerned the cultural
affinity of these groups to the preceding Middle Bronze Age groups on the one hand and the
contemporary Urnfield groups of central Europe on the other (see also Verwers 1971; Desittere
1968). The main question is: are we dealing with a group of the Urnfield culture proper? The
answer given to this question by different scholars is not so much based on the nature of the
cultural differences and similarities between the Niederrheinische Grabhügelkultur and the
Middle Bronze Age or Urnfield groups, but rather on the relative importance ascribed to either
instances of continuation of local practices or influences from the central European cultural
groups. To my opinion, this discussion is of little interest if we want to understand how and why
changes in burial rituals occurred at the end of the Middle Bronze Age. What is of interest is
giving a proper description of which practices did change and which did not, and of course when
they changed. In the previous paragraphs we have given a description of the Middle Bronze Age
and Late Bronze Age burial monuments, burial practices, and pottery and metals from graves.
Thus far I have largely refrained from a comparison of the burial traditions of these periods. In
this paragraph we will focus on how the burial rite changed at the end of the Middle Bronze Age
and the Late Bronze Age. I will also try to establish when these changes took place and in what
number new elements occurred through time.
3.4.1 Patterns of Cultural Change
I will start this discussion with highlighting how burial monuments have changed throughout the
Bronze Age. The first notable change concerns the surrounding features of round mounds. The
Middle Bronze Age barrows are characterized by a large variation of surrounding features: ring
ditches, 6 six types of post circles, bank and ditches, and stone circles. This variation appears to
survive well into Middle Bronze Age B, from which 14C-dated examples of several types of post
circles and ring ditches are known. But at the start of the Late Bronze Age this variation seems to
have disappeared – ditches have become the dominant type of surrounding feature, both for long
and round barrows.
The round barrows have also significantly decreased in size, the second change of burial
monuments. Middle Bronze Age barrows have a diameter ranging between 5-19 m, with an
70
average of 11,3 m, while Late Bronze Age barrows range between 4-8 m, averaging on only 5,9
m. Middle Bronze Age barrows seem to have maintained their large size up to the end of the
period, as all, except one, of the barrows dated to the Middle Bronze Age B have a diameter
ranging between 9,2 and 15 m.
The third change concerns the shape of the monuments. Whereas, the variation in
surrounding features decreased, the shape of monuments diversified, but only slightly. One new
barrow type occurred during the Middle Bronze Age B, the long barrow. Initially, these were only
of the smaller Riethoven type, sometimes rather irregularly or unusually shaped and often
surrounded by single or multiple post settings. In the Late Bronze Age long barrows were
solemnly or predominantly surrounded by ditches and varied more in size: both short Riethoven
type monuments and long Goirle monuments were constructed, and long barrows that were
somewhere in between these types (Hilvarenbeek-Laag Spul; Verwers 1975). Round barrows are
still dominant at urnfields, though, but at some urnfields long barrows make up a large part of the
burial monuments (for instance, Hilvarenbeek-Laag Spul and Knegsel-Knegselsche Hei).
The last change concerns the amount of burial monuments constructed. Bourgeois and
Arnoldussen (2006) have noted that the majority of all Middle Bronze Age round barrows were
erected before 1400 BC. The amount of barrows erected after 1400 BC is probably very low.
However, with the beginning of the Late Bronze Age the amount of barrows constructed rapidly
rises again. Every urnfield contains many small barrows. This grouping of barrows does not seem
to be a new phenomenon, though. Already during the Middle Bronze Age the location of round
mounds seems to have been determined by the presence of older barrows. A clear preference
existed in this period to place new mounds near existing ones, and also to re-use older barrows
(Bourgeois & Fontijn 2008, 48-9). However, in terms of number of barrows, these groups are of a
much smaller scale than the average urnfield.
Changes did not only occur in the form of burial monuments, but also in the manner in which
people were interred in these monuments. The dominant burial practice of the Late Bronze Age,
cremation, was also the main burial practice of the preceding period. However, this appears to be
especially the case for secondary burials: more than 12 times as many secondary cremation
burials than inhumation burials are known - more than 90%, against less than 60% for the
primary burials. These cremated remains were interred in different ways. Of the primary burials a
large part of the cremation burials are interred in structures that seem to refer to inhumation
burials: burial pits and tree coffins. A third is interred in small pit, either with or without urn. Of
the secondary burials almost half of all burials were interred in a small pit and more than a third
71
was buried in an urn. Compared to the primary burials the cremated remains in a burial pit or tree
coffin make up a much smaller part of the secondary burials.
As said, cremation is the main burial practice of the Late Bronze Age. In most urnfields
these were probably interred without a ceramic urn. And all burials of which it is known in what
kind of structure the remains were interred appear to be small pits. Apparently, the diversity of
burial structures existing during the Middle Bronze Age has largely diminished or perhaps totally
disappeared at the beginning of the Late Bronze Age. A trend which has perhaps already started
during the Middle Bronze Age B, as only urn and pit burials date after 1350 cal BC.
So, two changes of burial practices seem to have occurred at the onset of the Late Bronze
Age: the rite of cremation came to fully dominate and the variation in burial structures has
diminished to interments in small pits, with or without a ceramic urn. Interestingly, the practices
that have come to dominate in the Late Bronze Age are those that already dominated in secondary
barrow burials: amongst burials in a barrow the percentage of cremation burials is significantly
higher in secondary than in primary burials as is the percentage of interments in a small pit (with
a percentage of urn burials that roughly compares with that of urnfield burials – compare table 3.6
with Verwers 1971, fig. 1).
Finally, some changes occurred amongst the items deposited in the burials. Let us first look at
how the ceramics have changed. In the Middle Bronze Age three types of coarse pottery were in
use, Hilversum, Drakenstein and Laren pots. Of these only the simplest pot type, the Laten pot, is
found in Middle Bronze Age B burials. Amongst which are some a-typical shapes which might
display some early central European influences. At the start of the Late Bronze Age the number
of pot types produced has vastly increased, as has the variation in decoration. This new pottery is
thinner and often polished.
However, not only the type of pottery deposited in burials changed. Also the function of
the pots placed along the deceased changed. During the Middle Bronze Age pots were solemnly
used as urns; only two examples of pots as grave gifts are known. In the Late Bronze Age this
seems to have significantly changed: about half of all vessels were grave gifts, instead of urns.
Apparently the role of pottery during the burial rite – at least during the stage of interment – had
changed.
Besides the ceramics, the metals deposited in burials also changed from the Middle to Late
Bronze Age. Only 4,3% of all Middle Bronze Age burials contained metal artefacts, all bronzes.
These were all found in primary graves in an unburned state and consisted of (exotic) weaponry,
72
grooming equipment and perhaps ornaments. From secondary burials only green staining on
cremated bone is known. All the bronzes date to the Middle Bronze Age A. The only metals
known from Middle Bronze Age B burials contexts is weaponry deposited in or near barrows in
non-burials.
Although metal work in graves was still the exception rather than the rule, the amount of
graves containing metal work had considerably increased in the Late Bronze Age. At some
urnfields as much as 18% of all burials contained bronze objects. These bronzes consisted of
simple, (probably) locally made objects; mainly pins and rings – no weaponry and no, or almost
no grooming equipment. These are found in both centre and off-centre burials and in both burned
and unburned state. So, three changes seem to have occurred concerning bronzes in graves:
firstly, the amount of graves with bronzes has significantly increased; secondly, the kind of items
deposited had changed – whereas Middle Bronze Age burials still contained weaponry and
grooming equipments, these signs of a martial identity had been replaced by simple ornaments;
thirdly, the role of the metals during the burial rite had changed – both pristine bronzes and
bronzes collected from the pyre were deposited in the graves during the Late Bronze Age, while
from the Middle Bronze Age only unburned items are known.
So in total twelve major changes in burial ritual appear to have occurred from the Middle to the
Late Bronze Age. I have summarized them in table 3.10. These changes are, in fact, part of two
major kinds of changes that seem to have taken place. On the one hand, the burial rite simplified
significantly. In the Middle Bronze Age round mounds could have been surrounded by many
different structures, people could be interred in different kinds of burial structures and could be
cremated or inhumed. However, during the Late Bronze Age the round mounds became smaller,
all monuments were surrounded by ditches, all people were interred in pits, and all the deceased
were cremated. The only variation existed in the long barrows of different sizes. On the other
hand, the kind of items deposited in burial diversified. During Middle Bronze Age B only one
kind of ceramic vessel was deposited in graves, all the vessels were used as urns, and metal
artefacts were absent. In the Late Bronze Age many kind of vessels were deposited in burials,
both as urns and as grave gifts, and many more graves contained bronzes, both in burned and
unburned state. All the items were, however, in a local idiom: rather simple, locally produced
ceramics and bronze ornaments.
73
Burial Monuments
Ceramics
1. Large variation in surrounding feature type
diminished to one type: a surrounding ditch
2. Round barrows significantly decreased in
size
3. The long barrow appeared and diversified
4. The amount of barrows constructed
increased significantly: large groups of small
barrows appeared
7. Number of vessel types and decoration
motifs increased significantly
8. The quality of the vessels increased
9. Pottery became significantly more often
used as a grave gift rather than urn
Burial Practices
Metals
5. Cremation became the single form of body
treatment
6. Large variation in burial structures
diminished to one type: a small pit, with or
without ceramic urn
10. The amount of graves with bronzes
significantly increased
11. Simple ornaments became the dominant
kind of bronzes deposited in burials
12. Bronzes became deposited both in burned
and unburned state
Table 3.10 Overview of changes in burial ritual occurring from the Middle to Late Bronze Age.
3.4.2 Quantifying the Patterns
So now we have gained a good overview of the changes occurring from the Middle to Late
Bronze Age (table 3.12). In this paragraph we will try to quantify these instances of culture
changes: in what timeframe did the changes occur and in what numbers? There are, however, two
problems with answering this question. Firstly, typo-chronology of Late Bronze Age pottery – the
main means of this study for dating burials – does not allow for phasing within the Late Bronze
Age. Changing frequency of different elements within this period can therefore not be
established. We will therefore work with the assumption that the characteristics of Late Bronze
Age urnfields, as described in the previous paragraphs, were already dominant at the beginning of
this period and remained so during this period. This seems to be a reasonable assumption, as the
latest examples of typical Middle Bronze Age practices date before 1050 BC (table 3.2).
Secondly, all datable pottery types post-date the end of Ha A. However, as we will see below,
most elements of the urnfield phenomenon already existed in the earlier parts of Ha A. However,
as no examples can be securely dated to the period between 1200-1050 BC we known little of the
nature and frequency of the elements during this period.
Let us start with the changes of burial monument forms. The first two changes, the decrease of
surrounding feature variation and round barrow size, appear to be rather sudden changes. Both
74
barrows with post circles of different types and with a large diameter were probably constructed
until the beginning or into Ha A (table 3.2). The earliest radiocarbon dates for ring ditches from
urnfields are from Hilvarenbeek- Laag Spul (findnr. 46: 2885 ±35BP or 1208-938 calBC) and
Goirle-Hoogeind (Findnr. 29: 2870 ±50BP or 1213-912 calBC), which suggest that it is likely
that the first of these ring ditches date to the earlier parts of Ha A (Lanting & Van der Plicht
2003, 222-3). So, somewhere during Ha A the small round barrows with ring ditch came to
dominate the burial grounds. It is also likely that somewhere during this period the first real
urnfields – barrow groups consisting of a rather large amount of such small round mounds –
appeared. Again this must have been a rather sudden change, as the period after 1400 BC is
characterized by a very low amount of newly constructed round mounds.
The long barrow has developed along somewhat different lines. Contrary to the round
mound, the long mound was a rather recent development. The first two occurrences of this type of
barrow, at Haps-Kamps Veld, date between 1500 and 1300 calBC. Two slightly later
occurrences, from Veldhoven-Heibloem and Beerse-Mezenstraat, date to the second half of
Middle Bronze Age B (table 3.2; Delaruelle et al. 2008). These are all long beds of the Riethoven
type and are surrounded by post settings and/or ditches. At the start of the Late Bronze Age the
long barrows have diversified: the short Riethoven types still occur, but a second type, the long
Goirle type, is now also constructed. Like the round mounds, these were now all surrounded by
ditches. The earliest radiocarbon dates of Goirle type monuments fall somewhere in the twelfth to
tenth century calBC (Lanting & Van der Plicht 2003, 222). It is therefore not unlikely that the
diversification of long barrow types has occurred somewhere during Ha A. During this period the
amount of long beds at burial grounds must also have increased, as they sometimes make up a
large part of the Late Bronze Age urnfields. The frequency of long beds during the Middle
Bronze Age is hard to establish as only a few examples are known from this period, but this alone
suggests that the amount of long beds at Middle Bronze Age cemeteries was significantly lower
than at urnfields.
Quantifying the changes in burials practices is harder than for the changes of burial monuments.
Firstly, cremation became the single burial practice. We now that during the Middle Bronze Age
cremation was already the dominant rite, especially for secondary burials. However, the
percentages given in the previous paragraphs are for the entire Middle Bronze Age. It might
therefore very well be that at the end of this period cremation was already the single form of
interment. But it is also possible that the amount of inhumation burials has increased during the
Middle Bronze Age B, like in the Northern Netherlands (Lohof 1994).
75
Secondly, the variation in burials structures had diminished significantly at the beginning
of the Late Bronze Age: interments in a pit are virtually the only burial structures found at Late
Bronze Age urnfields. However, it is hard to say when this type of structure came to dominate.
Burials with other types of structures were all 14C date before 1400/1350 calBC. Those that
might date after 1350 calBC are all pits. This might indicate that the loss of variation of burial
structures might have occurred already around 1350. However, the amount of dated burials is
small (N=10) and come from just three sites. In the case of such an unrepresentative sample the
absence of evidence is certainly not the evidence of absence.
Concerning the ceramics and metals deposited in burials we noted six changes. These are
probably all sudden changes, occurring somewhere during Ha A. Firstly, there are the changes in
the type of pottery found in burials: the types of pottery diversified and their quality improved.
No logical predecessors to this urnfield pottery are known from the Middle Bronze Age B. In
fact, the urns found in burials from this period are all of the simplest, crudest type, the Laren type
vessel. A few of these vessels are rather a-typical with a tripartite profile and sharp angles, but
still these do not resemble the urnfield pottery; only the coarse Late Bronze Age Grobkeramik.
The earliest central European influences on Late Bronze Age pottery date to the end of Ha A or
the beginning of Ha B, but bronzes date the earliest urnfield pottery already to the earlier parts of
Ha A (see paragraph 3.3.3). The latest examples of Laren pottery possibly also date to Ha A (see
table 3.10). So during Ha A a transition occurred from Laren to urnfield pottery.
Also, during Ha A pottery started being used as burial gift instead of only urns, the
amount of graves with bronzes increased, simple ornaments became the dominant kind of metal
artefact placed in graves, bronzes became deposited also burned state instead of only in unburned
state. For none of these phenomena Middle Bronze Age B examples are known, so it is likely that
they started somewhere near the beginning of the Late Bronze Age.
3.5 Conclusion
In this chapter I have tried to answer the first set of research questions of this study: how and
when did the burial monuments, burial practices, ceramics and metals that were characteristic for
the urnfield burials introduced in the southern Netherlands? To answer this question a
comprehensive description was given of the burial rites of the Late Bronze Age and the preceding
Middle Bronze Age. For the Middle Bronze Age use was made of Theunissen’s (1999) overview,
while for the Late Bronze Age the characteristics were discussed of those burials that could be
dated securely in the Late Bronze Age and of the urnfields in general that contained evidence of
76
Late Bronze Age activities. This overview of burial rites made it possible to highlight twelve
major changes. One the one hand, the burial rite seems to have significantly simplified: into
existence came large group of small barrows, which were all surrounded by ditches, had one type
of burial structure, a small pit, and which only contained cremations, no inhumations. Only, the
long barrow was a new element, which displayed some variation in size. On the other hand, the
kind of items deposited in burials had diversified: more types of pottery, no longer only used as
urn, and significantly more graves with bronzes, all simple ornaments, both in burned and
unburned state. It appears that almost all changes were rather sudden ones. Most characteristics or
elements of the Late Bronze Age burial rite either appeared for the first time during Ha A or
suddenly came to dominate during this period. Only the rite of cremation and the small pit as
burial structure may have dominated already a little earlier than Ha A.
77
78
4. Ideas and Beliefs: Urnfields and Identities
4.1 Introduction
In the previous chapter I described the patterns of change in burial rite practices. This was mainly
an overview of changing behaviour - the 'phenotype' in terms of genetic evolution. As I have
adopted an ideational concept of culture (see chapter 2) for this study, I am also interested in the
ideas and values behind the practices - the cultural equivalent of the 'genotype'. It are these ideas
and beliefs that are passed on from individual to individual, not just the behaviour. Interpretive
archaeology has developed an extensive array of theories and methods to study the behaviour
and, especially, the cognition of the people behind the pots. In this chapter I will employ some of
these methods and theories to gain more insight into those subjects that figure most promptly in
the studies of the meaning of urnfields: the personhood of the buried and group identity as
expressed in the layout of the cemeteries. For the analysis the same dataset will be used as in
chapter 3.
4.2 The Meaning of Urnfields
Studies of the beliefs and values expressed at funerals and burial grounds often focus on identity.
This can be a personal identity - the personhood of the diseased in life or death - or a communal
identity - the burial ground as a symbol of a collective. Extensive research on the meaning and
symbolism of Dutch urnfields is unfortunately rather rare. Little is known about the kind of
persons buried at urnfields (Roymans & Kortlang 1999, 34) and notions on urnfields as symbols
of local communities are mainly based on the fixed nature of the burial grounds and not on a
proper understanding of the manner in which identities were expressed at these sites (Gerritsen
2001). In this paragraph I will try to gain some further understanding of the meaning of urnfields.
4.2.1 Personal Identity: Metals and Ceramics
During life and in death an individual is defined as a person, a social category. From ethnography
we know that material culture often plays an important role in the construction of a person
(Hoskins 1998). Objects with specific meaning do not only signal specific identities, but are
actively engaged in the constitution of a person as constituent parts that are exchanged through
the life of an individual. As roles and statuses are thus marked and constructed by material
culture, they can be archaeologically discerned as long as we know the meaning of the objects
associated. This meaning is often not intrinsic to the object, but comes about through a life-path
79
(cf. Fontijn 2002, 25-8). But how do objects become meaningful? And how can we as
archaeologists reconstruct these meanings?
To gain an answer on the first question the concept of cultural biography as defined by
Kopytoff (1986) is useful (cf. Fontijn 2002, 26). Cultural biography is an anthropological concept
that was used by Kopytoff to describe the life history of things that go through shifts in their
social and economic meaning in the processes of exchange and circulation. Cultural biography
refers to a ‘theoretical aware biographical model […] based on a reasonable number of actual life
histories’ (Kopytoff 1986, 66). Important is the notion that societies offer different biographical
possibilities to different categories of objects and that desirable models of a biography of an
object – idealized biographies – exist in societies, of which real-life may departure. What makes a
biography cultural is that an object is looked at ‘as a culturally constructed entity, endowed with
culturally specific meanings, and classified and reclassified into culturally constituted categories’
(Kopytoff 1986, 68). For archaeological purposes, a significant difference can be made between
specific biographies, and generalized biographies (Grosden & Marshall 1999, 170-2). ‘Specific
biographies are about the idiosyncratic histories of objects [whereas] the characteristics of
generalized biographies […] go back to a widely-shared expectation as to their kind of lifepath’
(Fontijn 2002, 26). The latter can be discerned as patterns in the archaeological record. The
former are archaeologically harder to discern, since they are outside established patterns. They
may be recognized sometimes, though, as strange phenomena (Fontijn 2002, 26).
So, the meaning of objects with a generalized biography can be reconstructed from a
patterned use-life of object of a certain object category. If we assume that the items associated
with the deceased in burials signal the personhood of the dead, we can reconstruct this identity by
determining the meaning of the items. So a reconstruction of the general life-path of the items is
needed first. In the previous chapter we saw that in barrow and urnfield burials there are mainly
two kinds of objects: metals and ceramics. The life cycle and meaning of the former category has
already been studied by Fontijn (2002, chapter 9) and the results of this study will be summarized
in this chapter. For metals Fontijn (2002, 27-35) has summarized the most important
archaeologically visible variables for each phase of the life-cycle of an object. I have slightly
modified this overview so it can be used to study the biography of ceramics (table 4.1) in the
remainder of this paragraph.
I will start the analyses of personhood with a short summary of Fontijn's study of the metals from
Late Bronze Age and Iron Age urnfields. In chapter 3.3.4 the main characteristics of these metals
were already discussed. We saw that in general, pins are the most recurrent metal artefact types
80
known from urnfields, followed by rings and then, spirals, bronze beads. Pendants, gilded rings,
razors and tweezers appear to be restricted to the Early Iron Age burials, but may have occurred
in Late Bronze Age burials in low numbers. No weapon burials date before the end of the Late
Bronze Age (Fontijn 2002, 198-203). Bronze pins are the most recurrent type of artefact and also
most variable. Although most pin-types are known from other regions, their rather simple form
and techniques suggest a local production. The same is probably true for the plain and simple
bronze rings. These come in different sizes, suggesting they had different functions such as
bracelets, finger rings and perhaps even horse gear (Fontijn 2002, 199). All these bronze objects
were found in different states among the cremated human remains; both in pristine, unburned
state and in deformed state. Apparently the same types of objects were sometimes placed on the
deceased before cremation and were collected after burning of the body, while at other times they
were added to the cremated remains after burning (Fontijn 2002, 203-4).
Table 4. 1 Decisive steps in the life-path of ceramics: archaeological correlates. (After Fontijn 2002,
table 3.2)
81
Metal ornaments, pins and toilet articles have an apparent role in the construction of
identity as they dress people to look like certain persons. Fontijn (2002, chapter 9) explains that,
although the precise meaning of such appearances escape us, they served sometimes to make
differentiations between certain kinds of female identities. In general, the beliefs concerning the
personhood of the interred appear to have been ideosyncratic, since there are differences in
associations between kinds of objects and individuals of different age and sex from place to place.
Conventions on specific female identities only existed at the level of the micro-region (for
instance, conical pendants as a typical dress for the Kempen in the Iron Age). These identities in
local idiom contrast markedly with the supra-regional identities expressed by high quality, nonlocal items deposited at natural places in this period. Local and supra-regional identities were
apparently kept physically and conceptually apart (in chapter 5 this system of selective deposition
will be further discussed).
Let us now see if ceramics have a similar, local meaning as metals. But before doing this,
it has to be noted that at Late Bronze Age urnfields there are many burials with no grave goods, at
least no goods that were preserved up till this day. In chapter 3 I explained that the number of
non-urn burials at Late Bronze Age urnfields is 44% or higher. In some of these burials the
cremated remains were found packed together suggesting that they were originally deposited in
an organic container or cloth. Well-preserved remains of such a container or cloth have never
been found. Only at Mook-Nieuwbouw Bovensteweg 20 a humus rich layer was found at the
bottom of burial 1, which are probably the decayed remains of an organic container (Bouma
2009). Therefore we can say nothing about the nature and meaning of these items.
Culture
1050-800 BC
Material
Ceramics
Undetermined
Bronze
1500-800 BC
Stone
Ceramics
Organic
Object type
Pot
Undetermined
Undetermined
Pin
Undetermined
Undetermined
Pot
Undetermined
1
28
2
-
2
78
1
1
3
1
1
3
-
3
22
3
6
5
1
Total
130
1
1
8
7
1
8
1
Table 4. 2 Number of Late Bronze Age items per material category. The numbers 1 to 3 indicate the
reliability of dating (see paragraph 3.2.2).
82
This leaves us with just the ceramics to discuss. In total 131 ceramic items were
inventoried that could be dated to the period 1050-800 BC and another 8 that could be dated to
the period 1500-800 BC (of which most probably date to Ha A or later) (table 4.2). As this thesis
is a study of literature and not of materials, the pots have not been personally examined by the
author. We therefore have to do with the information given in the original excavation reports of
the sites where the pottery was found. This information is often scanty, with the result that many
steps in the life-path of the pots cannot be reconstructed (table 4.1). Namely information on the
raw material, production technique, use-life, and arrangement of objects is mostly lacking. The
other steps can be reconstructed to a further or lesser extent.
Concerning the production of the pots a first important aspect is the intended function of
the pots. Were all pots produced with a function as urn in mind? It is difficult to answer this
question. This question could be negatively answered if most pots showed signs of an extensive
use-life, but as said information on the use-life is almost fully lacking. Only a single example of a
mended pot could be dated to the Late Bronze Age. Findnumber 2 from Hilvarenbeek-Laag Spul
is an amphora with a Late Bronze Age cylindrical neck and sharp biconical profile as ground
shape (Verwers 1975). This pot has two repair holes beneath the rim at both sites of a crack. Such
damage and repair is, however, no solid indication of everyday use. The pot could also have been
produced to function as urn, cracked, and got repaired to prevent further cracking before use as
Site type
Barrow,
unspecified
Barrow, centre
Barrow, offcentre
Barrow,
centre-edge
Barrow,
edge
Barrow,
surrounding
feature
Flat grave
Possible flat
grave
Possible grave
Unspecified
grave
Total
Skill
Undefined
-
Poor
Total
Average
-
2
Excellent
2
12
3
4
1
16
12
1
32
17
-
-
1
-
1
2
2
6
-
10
-
-
1
-
1
1
1
3
-
12
8
-
16
9
1
-
2
-
1
5
2
4
7
20
12
64
5
101
4
Table 4. 3 Number of vessels of certain quality per grave type for the Late Bronze Age (1050-800
BC).
83
urn. To say anything about the extent and nature of the pottery, use-wear analysis is needed first.
There is, however, an important indication that at least some pots were not intended for
everyday use. If we compare the Late Bronze Age pottery from settlements (Van den Broeke
1991; Arnoldussen & Ball 2007) with that from urnfields (Desittere 1968) we find at each type of
site pots with both crude and refined shapes and decoration. However, at urnfields one finds pots
of certain quality and type and with certain kinds of decoration that are not found at settlements.
Pottery types that are not found at settlements are shoulder beakers, high shouldered conical
necked urns, low-shouldered urns with funnel neck, classical urn-like beakers, and bowls of type
Vogt XII - all classical urnfield ware (Desittere 1968, 58). The absence of these pot types at
settlements can be explained, however, as the result of the small amount of examples of this type
known combined with the low amount of Late Bronze Age settlements known. Also, the
occurrence of these types seem to be mainly restricted to the micro-region of the Kempen
(Desittere 1968, kaart 7), from which no settlements are known. Next to that, these vessel types
tend to be dated early (Desittere 1968) while the known settlement complexes are slightly
younger (Arnoldussen & Ball 2007). More significant, therefore, is the absence of Kerbschnitt
decoration at urnfields; the defining trait of the northwestern group of the urnfield culture. As this
type of decoration is more abundant (Desittere 1968) and more wide-spread (Desittere 1968, kaart
8) at urnfields, there absence at settlements is significant. It means that there is at least one kind
of pottery that, although perhaps not produced for inclusion in burials, was at least not intended
for use in daily life. Apparently, Kerbschnitt decoration had a specific meaning that prevented it
from being used in daily life. Unfortunately it will probably remain unknown what this meaning
is.
What these examples also show is that amongst the pottery from urnfields there exists
quite some variation in style, concept and production technique: some pots display signs of
excellent craftsmanship while other are poorly made, some pots are of a common type while
others are rather unique, and some pots display a regional style while others are of a locally
derived type. Unfortunately, as there are only a few Late Bronze Age burials of which the human
remains have been analyzed it is impossible to relate these differences to sex and age of the
deceased (table 3.9). Also there is no significant patterning in the types of pots found in different
graves and positions of urnfield barrows (table 4.3 & 4.4). I do want to discuss the differences in
style some further, though, as it can slightly nuance the picture sketched by the metals.
84
Site type
Barrow, centre
Barrow, off-centre
Barrow,
centre-edge
Barrow,
edge
Barrow,
surrounding feature
Barrow, unspecified
Flat grave
Possible flat grave
Possible grave
Unspecified grave
Vessel type
Amphora
Bowl
Grobkeramik
Henkeltöpfe
Doppelkoni
Beaker
Dekkeldose
Undetermined
Conical necked urn, classical
Funnel necked urn, non-classical
Urn, undetermined
Bowl
Grobkeramik
Henkeltöpfe
Dekkeldose
Undetermined
Conical necked urn, classical
Conical necked urn, non-classical
Funnel necked urn, classical
Urn, undetermined
Amphora
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
-
2
1
4
1
2
1
3
2
7
1
2
1
1
2
1
2
1
1
3
1
1
1
1
3
1
-
Total
1
5
1
2
1
5
2
8
2
2
3
3
1
3
2
1
2
2
2
1
1
Amphora
Henkeltöpfe
Beaker
Undetermined
Funnel necked urn, classical
Henkeltöpfe
1
2
2
1
2
1
-
1
1
-
2
3
1
2
2
1
Bowl
Conical necked urn, non-classical
Conical necked urn, classical
Bowl
Grobkeramik
Henkeltöpfe
Beaker
Undetermined
Conical necked urn, classical
Conical necked urn, non-classical
Funnel necked urn, classical
Urn, undetermined
Urn, tall
Amphora
Henkeltöpfe
Undetermined
Conical necked urn, classical
Conical necked urn, non-classical
Funnel necked urn, non-classical
Urn, undetermined
Bowl
Dekkeldose
Conical necked urn, classical
Funnel necked urn, non-classical
Bowl
Henkeltöpfe
Undetermined
Funnel necked urn, non-classical
2
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
-
2
1
1
1
2
1
1
1
1
2
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
2
2
3
2
1
2
1
1
1
1
1
2
1
1
2
1
1
2
1
2
1
1
2
1
2
Table 4. 4 Urn types per grave type for the period 1050-800 BC. The numbers 1 to 3 indicate the
reliability of dating (see paragraph 3.2.2).
85
As explained above, the metals found in urnfield burials are all of a simple, local style,
apparently stressing a local identity. Similarly, most vessels found in burials are local types. But
as we saw, some pots clearly display a supra-local style: the classical urnfield style of central
Europe. Through the vessels made in this style some persons were associated with a supraregional community. That this association must have been deliberate and recognized is suggested
by the fact that the classical pottery types are rare at urnfields - they must have stood out against
the local vessel types that had probably already developed by the beginning of Ha B (see chapter
3). In fact, some vessels posses such an unusual type of decoration and are of such a high quality
that it is even possible that they were imported (Desittere 1964; Desittere 1968, 42). However,
examples of vessels in a clear supra-regional style are rare and, as said above, restricted to the
Kempen (Desittere 1968, kaart 8). Throughout the southern Netherlands most people were
interred in or with vessels of a local style. And although there are differences in the quality and
types of these vessels, they do not appear to signal major distinctions in social role or status differences were expressed in a local, egalitarian idiom.
In closing I will take a quick look at the manner of deposition and the position of the
ceramics. In most excavation reports little information is given on the position of ceramics, other
than used as urn or not. When we make an overview of the position of different kinds of vessels
no significant patterns emerge, other than Henkeltöpfe that are conspicuously often deposited in
surrounding ditches (table 4.5). One can imagine how such handled cups are used for drinking
and poring liquids in rituals carried about the burial monuments. In the graves the smaller vessels,
such as bowls, beakers and Dekkeldosen, tend to be used more often as accessory vessels, while
urns are mainly used as containers. The smaller vessels probably had a function as holders of
foods, liquids, etc. deposited along the deceased. Many of the vessels from burials were found
broken (n = 51). It is, however, hard to say whether these vessels were broken at deposition or
post-depositionally. The high amount of broken vessels in surrounding features (23 out of 25
vessels) does appear to reflect reality, though.
Not only the position of vessel types in the grave, but also in the burial ground at large
can be informative on the kind of persons buried at urnfields. Which kind of items and therefore
which kind of persons were associated with which kind of burial monuments? This is a question I
will answer in the next paragraph.
86
Vessel type
Bowl
Beaker
Dekkeldose
Henkeltöpfe
Grobkeramik
Amphora
Doppelkoni
Conical necked urn
Funnel necked urn
Urn, undet.
Urn, tall
Undetermined
Location
Container
Lid of container
Outside container
In container
Amongst cremation
Surrounding feature
Undetermined
Container
In container
Amongst cremation
Surrounding feature
Undetermined
Outside container
In container
Amongst cremation
Undetermined
Container
In container
Amongst cremation
Next to cremation
Surrounding feature
Undetermined
Container
In container
Undetermined
Container
Undetermined
Container
Container
Amongst cremation
Surrounding feature
Undetermined
Container
Surrounding feature
Undetermined
Container
Outside container
Surrounding feature
Undetermined
Undetermined
In container
Amongst cremation
Surrounding feature
Undetermined
1
2
1
2
1
1
1
1
1
2
5
1
2
2
1
2
1
1
1
2
1
2
1
1
3
1
1
1
1
2
1
1
2
2
1
1
5
7
1
1
4
2
1
3
1
1
2
2
3
1
2
3
4
8
7
3
1
2
1
1
1
1
2
3
1
2
1
4
1
1
-
Total
1
4
1
3
2
1
3
1
1
2
1
4
1
1
2
1
3
1
2
2
8
10
2
1
1
4
2
1
7
2
1
7
5
4
6
1
1
1
4
1
3
4
9
8
Table 4. 5 Count of vessel types per location for the Late Bronze Age (1050-800 BC). The numbers 1
to 3 indicate the reliability of dating (see paragraph 3.2.2).
87
4.2.2 Communal Identity: Monument Types and Lay-out
Recently Fokke Gerritsen (2001) has explored the dynamics of Late Bronze Age and Iron Age
communities in the southern Netherlands by examining the way in which they expressed their
identity in the landscape. According to him urnfields were vital for the construction of the identity
of local communities during the Late Bronze Age. He explains that at urnfields a communal sense
is expressed through a uniform burial ritual and that these collective identities are expressed more
often than before as each individual now received its own barrow burial. Gerritsen's notions are
based on limited knowledge and understanding of, for instance, the meaning of different
monument shapes and patterns in lay-out and development of urnfields. In this paragraph I will
try to gain some further insight into these issues for Late Bronze Age urnfields.
I will begin where we left of in the last paragraph by examining the relation between
different monument types and identities. As said earlier, data on age and sex of the deceased is
extremely scarce for Late Bronze Age burials and we therefore have to do only with grave goods
to reconstruct identities. Although urnfields are usually characterized as burial grounds with
monuments of many different shapes and sizes, this is mainly true for Iron Age urnfields. As we
saw in the last chapter, Late Bronze Age urnfields only contain two types of monuments: round
barrows and long barrows surrounded by closed ring ditches, each of different sizes. Our main
focus should therefore be on differences in meaning of these two types of monuments.
Roymans and Kortlang (1999, 42-53) have suggested that long barrows are the burial
places of family heads and as such have a more collective significance than other graves. The
reasons to suggest this are that: 1. long barrows are always a small proportion of the total number
of graves; 2. some long barrows are of extreme size and therefore probably founders burials; 3.
ditches of long barrows often contain large amounts of pottery; 4. long beds contain more often
than round barrows 2 or 3 graves and these graves often contain more than one individual; 5. in
an urnfield there can be multiple clusters of long barrows, suggesting that in a local community
several person were qualified for burial in a long barrow; 6. mainly adult males were buried in
long barrows. Most of these arguments are based on the analysis of the Early Iron Age urnfields
of eastern Noord-Brabant (Theuws & Roymans 1999). Their validity for the Late Bronze Age can
therefore be doubted. For instance, the first argument appears untenable as long barrows make up
almost half of all graves of the Late Bronze Age urnfield of Hilvarenbeek-Laag Spul (Verwers
1975). Secondly, the supposed founders grave that are substantially longer than other barrows at
the same urnfield are not known from any of the urnfields with signs of Late Bronze Age
activities (table 3.3). Next to that, there are also many examples of round barrows with more than
one burial and sometimes even as much as 5 burials (Van den Hurk 1980, grave 82-86). Also, I
88
Skill
Unknown
Undet.
Poor
Average
Excellent
Total
5
5
24
4
38
Grave type
Long barrow Round
barrow
5
5
5
15
Total
Flatgrave
15
3
30
1
49
5
3
20
28
30
16
79
5
130
Table 4. 6 Number of vessels of certain quality per grave type for the Late Bronze Age (1050-800 BC)
cannot see how argument 5 supports the idea of long barrows as burials of family heads as there
can similarly be multiple clusters of round barrows at urnfields. The validity of the sixth
argument cannot be checked for the Late Bronze Age as no cremated remains from long barrows
from this period have been analysed. All in all, it appears that the idea of long barrows as the
burial grounds of family heads finds no support in the urnfields of the Late Bronze Age, although
this of course does not mean that it is invalid.
Unfortunately, the pottery types from the two kinds of barrows give little information on
differences between the persons buried in each monument type. No vessel types appear to be
predominantly deposited in one of the barrow types (table 4.7), but vessels of poor quality seem
to occur slightly more often in long barrow burials (table 4.6). All metal artefacts that could be
dated to the Late Bronze Age (N = 15) come from round barrows and flat graves, not from long
barrows. So, the only pattern is that burials from long barrows are less rich than round barrow
burials. This is, however, a very tentative pattern and a more fair characterization would probably
be that burials from round and long barrows contain more or less the same types of artefacts, save
perhaps the metal artefacts.
This uniformity is reflected in the lay-out of urnfields. The long barrows might have
visually contrasted with the round barrows, but otherwise the monuments within an urnfield are
rather similar. Between Late Bronze Age urnfields monuments might differ significantly in size,
especially the long barrows, but within an urnfield most long barrows and round barrows are of
similar dimension, except for one or two barrows that are significantly larger or smaller than
others. Even between clusters of long and/or round barrows there are no apparent differences in
the dimensions of monuments. Also, the orientation of the long barrows is usually uniform, either
parallel with or perpendicular to the orientation of the sand ridges on which urnfields are usually
located (Desittere 1968, 50-7). Next to that, there is no apparent segmentation visible at the
urnfields with signs of Late Bronze Age activity - there are no clearly separated groups of
barrows representing, for instance, different factions within a social collective. Such clustering is
known from Iron Age urnfields, where groups of barrows are sometimes separated by empty
89
Vessel type
3
Grave type
Round
Long barrow
barrow
-
-
1
4
1
1
-
-
2
5
1
2
3
11
3
-
-
3
6
2
-
3
1
6
4
1
3
1
9
1
4
2
-
1
2
-
1
5
2
2
1
1
1
1
7
4
9
4
2
5
1
3
4
38
3
2
1
3
15
11
4
1
14
49
7
2
Unknown
Amphora,
Cylinder neck
Amphora,
Funnel neck
Cylinder urn,
Classical
Cylinder urn,
Non-classical
Funnel neck
urn. classical
Funnel neck
urn. nonclassical
Urn, tall
Biconical urn
Urn, indet.
Grobkeramik
Bowl
Bowl, Vogt XII
Bowl,
conical
Henkeltöpfe
Beaker
Dekkeldose
Indet.
Total
Total
Flatgrave
2
2
1
1
3
28
26
9
5
24
130
Table 4. 7 Number of ceramic vessels of certain type per grave type for the Late Bronze Age (1050800 BC)
strokes interpreted as roads (Hessing & Kooi 2005). At Late Bronze Age urnfields the
monuments form a continues conglomerate. Unfortunately, the chronological resolution is to
coarse to establish patterns of growth of the urnfields. It could therefore be that at early stages a
segmentation was visible, but this was probably soon obliterated as not a single urnfield shows
any sign of it.
4.3 Conclusion
In this chapter we set out to get insight into the ideas and beliefs behind the burial practices of
urnfields. The focus was on the kind of personal and communal identities expressed at the burial
grounds. Going from the notions that objects with specific meanings are actively engaged in the
constitution of personal identity and that items obtain their meaning through a life-cycle, the
biography of the items deposited in urnfields were examined. Fontijn (2002) has already noted
that the simple metals from urnfields display a local identity. The same seems to be true for the
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ceramic vessels found in graves. The pottery displays differences in quality and type suggesting
that they had specific meanings. Some people were even interred in or with vessels in a distinct
supra-regional style. Such vessels are, however, extremely rare and limited in geographic extent.
In general people were interred in or with vessels of a local style, signalling no apparent major
distinctions in social role or status - differences are expressed in a local, egalitarian idiom. This is
in line with the manner in which communal identities are expressed through the lay-out and
monument forms of urnfields. Two types of barrows were constructed at the burial grounds: long
barrows and round barrows of different sizes. The objects deposited in the two kind of
monuments appear to be rather similar, given no indication for major differences in the kinds of
person being buried in them. A similar uniformity is expressed in the lay-out of the urnfields:
within an urnfield most monuments are of similar dimensions, have a similar orientation and are
part of a continuous conglomerate. So, like the personal identities, the external appearance of
urnfields appears to be characterized by similarity and equality. The collective rather than the
individual seems to be stressed at urnfields.
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5. Social and Cultural Context
5.1 Introduction
In the last two chapters I have described how the burial ritual had changed from the Middle to the
Late Bronze Age. In chapter 3 I started with a description of the material characteristics and
traditions current in these periods and the frequency in which these occur. In chapter 4 we took a
look at the ideas behind this behaviour. Thus we have established the patterns of change in the
nature and frequency of the cultural variants that are part of the urnfield phenomenon. In order to
understand how these patterns came about, we need to gain a proper understanding of the social
and cultural context in which the cultural variation had spread. Recently this context has been
thoroughly studied by several scholars. However, the results of these studies have not yet been
incorporated in a model of the genesis of urnfields. In this chapter I will do this by answering the
last set of research questions of this study: what developments occurred in Middle and Late
Bronze Age social structure and ideology, material conditions, demography and population
structure, communication channels and power relations? Through answering these questions the
building blocks for a Darwinian model of cultural change will be formed: the life history of the
carriers of cultural variants, the relevant transmission processes, the cultural, social and material
constraints, and the population structure.
5.2 Data & Methodology
As said, the Middle and Late Bronze Age socio-cultural context has been extensively studied by
several scholars. Only, the results of these have not yet been brought together to provide a
comprehensive picture of the Middle and Late Bronze Age societies. This is what I will do in this
chapter. No new evidence will therefore be presented here; rather the original part will be the
assembling of different, already existing strands of information in a new framework.
5.3 Cultural Constraints: The Value System
In chapter 2 we discussed the premises of coevolutionary theory of culture change. Several
hypothesis of this theory were formulated by William H. Durham, the first and most important
being that: the selection of ideas and beliefs on the basis of the cultural values individuals hold is
the main force of culture change (1991, 204). Foreign ideas and beliefs might be misunderstood,
disliked and neglected because of a mismatch of values between cultures or subcultures. In this
way options may be blocked by cultural constraints, such as preconceptions, prejudices, and
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technological capabilities (Durham 1991, fig. 4.5). In this paragraph we will therefore try to gain
a thorough understanding of the value systems of Middle and Late Bronze Age societies in the
Meuse-Demer-Scheldt area. The main sources for such knowledge are settlements, burial grounds
and ritual deposits. These three site types have all a long research history and have recently been
thoroughly studied by several scholars (Fontijn 2002; Gerritsen 2001; Arnoldussen 2008). An
overview of the insights gained in these studies on Bronze Age value systems will be given here.
Fig. 5. 1 Reconstruction drawing of Middle Bronze Age farmhouse. (Schinkel 1998, fig. 22)
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5.3.1 Settlements
The first site type to be discussed is the Bronze Age settlement. From the southern Netherlands
32 Bronze Age house plans are known, of which 26 date to the Middle Bronze Age (Arnoldussen
2008, 202-204). The Middle Bronze Age B, that is, as no Dutch house plan can be securely dated
before the 15th century BC (Bourgeois & Arnoldussen 2006). The farm houses of the southern
Netherlands have a three-aisled appearance, with each rafter being supported at its base and at
about one third of the length by upright posts (fig. 5.1). The wall was probably located outside the
outer posts and the entrances were situated opposite each other on the long sides. The houses are
between 14 and 32 m in length, with an average of c. 20,5 m. The width between the outer posts
ranges from 7,5 tot 4,5 m, with a mean of 6,6 m (Arnoldussen 2008, 202-4; Gerritsen 2001, 4951).
What appears to be characteristic for these longhouses is not their length nor the possible
indoor byre-section that is unconvincingly inferred by several scholars (Arnoldussen & Fokkens
2008, 31). In fact, it is the apparent regularity with which the roof-bearing posts were placed. A
survey of 179 Bronze Age houses from the Netherlands has shown that these posts were placed at
a standardised distance of 2,0-2,3 m throughout the entire house (Arnoldussen & Fontijn 2006,
295-6). This standardisation cannot be related to possible stall-boxes as it is maintained in the
supposed non-byre section. Neither can structural considerations be the reason, as both large and
small houses display this regularity. Apparently it was regularity itself that mattered. The care and
attention paid to the structures indicate that the average Middle Bronze Age dwelling – and with
it probably the household and domestic activities in general – had come to possess a social and
ideological significance that in previous periods appear to have been reserved for special,
‘ceremonial’ buildings (cf. Arnoldussen & Fontijn 2006, 295-6). The ideas behind the observed
regularity elude us, however. Perhaps it is simply the result of an applied measurement system
based on bodily portion or it might have to do with the embedment of the house in a proper
cosmological scheme (Arnoldussen 2008, 219-22). What is clear, though, is that the regularity
and elaboration of Middle Bronze Age houses is part of a tradition that is shared at a supraregional level and across many generations. According to Arnoldussen and Fontijn, this suggests
a “sense of traditionality, an idea of cyclicity and of repeating ancestral acts” (2006, 307).
Something which is reflected in the attitude towards the Bronze Age landscape in general, as
indicated by the clustering and frequent re-use of barrows and a structured system of metal
deposition in natural places (Arnoldussen & Fontijn 2006).
In many areas of the Netherlands the Middle Bronze Age longhouses continue to be built
in the Late Bronze Age. However, for the southern Netherlands no longhouses can be dated to the
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Late Bronze Age. Only six houses can tentatively be dated to the Late Bronze Age and they
appear to belong to the second century and a half of this period (Arnoldussen 2008, 223;
Arnoldussen & Fokkens 2008, 33). This is a diverse group of rather short houses. The regular
spacing of roof-bearing posts as found in the Middle Bronze is no longer adhered to so rigidly
and some houses do not even appear to be three-aisled (Arnoldussen 2008, 222-9). The sizes of
these houses are more in line with the later Early Iron Age houses, which again show
standardized three- or four aisled ground plans.
The diminishing size of houses has been correlated with the appearance of urnfields by
Fokkens (1997) as being part of the same socio-ideological change, namely a process of
individualization that resulted from the opening up of bronze exchange networks. According to
Fokkens, the decreasing farmhouse size is a reflection of the splitting of extended families into
nuclear families. However, determining the household size from the surface area of ground plans,
as done by Fokkens, may be a tricky enterprise (cf. Arnoldussen 2008, 85-8). Especially for
Middle Bronze Age houses, for which it is not certain whether a part of the house was used as a
byre section (Arnoldussen & Fokkens 2008, 31). Nonetheless, even if only a weak correlation
between surface area and number of occupants exist and if only part of Middle Bronze Age
houses was used as living area, I think it is still fair to assume a decrease in household size from
the Middle Bronze Age to the Early Iron Age, as the average size of the supposed non-byre
sections of Dutch Middle Bronze Age houses is 60 m², while the total surface area of Iron Age
houses is 20 m² (Fokkens 2003, 14). However, the situation is not so clear cut when we compare
Middle Bronze Age houses with Late Bronze Age houses, as the surface area of Late Bronze Age
houses often only slightly differs from that of the supposed non-byre section of Middle Bronze
Age houses (Arnoldussen 2008, 227). So whether the diminishing house size reflects a change in
household size depends on whether or not the Middle Bronze Age house contained a byre section.
Also, all the smaller house plans date to second half of the Late Bronze Age. So, if diminishing
house lengths indeed indicate a process of individualization it is a change that might have come
about only at the very end of the Bronze Age.
Of course, the Bronze Age houses were part of a settlement. However, settlement is not a
straightforward term to use when describing Bronze Age communities from the southern
Netherlands. Generally, when one speaks of settlements, a conglomeration of farmsteads and
farmyards comes to mind. Yet, during the Bronze Age in the Netherlands and surrounding
regions, settlements consisted of one or two isolated houses that lied dispersed within a certain
area. The farmsteads appear to have been single-phased and were relocated regularly over some
distance (see Arnoldussen 2008 and Fokkens & Arnoldussen 2008 for an overview of Bronze
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Age settlement-system models). However, there are certain knowledge gaps when it comes to the
Bronze Age settlements, namely the length of time between instances of house relocation, the
distances over which houses were relocated, the number of houses that constituted a settlements
(and therefore the size of a settlement), and, most importantly, the cause for the frequent house
relocation. Wood durability (structural instability), soil depletion of accompanying fields, and
household lifecycle are put forward as possible causes, but none are convincing (Arnoldussen
2008, 85-96). What is clear, though, is that a communal sense found no clear physical expression
in the settlement during this period. Rather, the community must have been a symbolic
construction and the interaction with the natural and man-made landscape must have been vital in
the definition of a community (Gerritsen 2001, 109-17). This brings us to the second site type, the
burial grounds.
5.3.2 Burial Grounds
According to Fokke Gerritsen cemeteries were vital for the construction of the identity of local
communities during the Late Bronze Age (Gerritsen 2001, 251-8). He explains that during the
preceding Middle Bronze Age practices of social reproduction were grounded in unstable patterns
of land use. Population density was low and farmsteads were periodically relocated. Also, burial
locations were instable – barrows were either relocated with the farmsteads or farmsteads were
located near existing barrows. All in all, this suggests a fluid and dynamic territorial organisation
of the Middle Bronze Age landscape, in which “social identity (…) was based as much on
differentiated relationships with the ancestors represented by the barrow landscape, as on the
more dynamic social relationships that came about through patterns of residence” (Gerritsen
2001, 254). Through time, however, the number and density of barrows increased, and thus a
mythical geography was created in which the funerary monuments served as markers of the
history of habitation and ancestral presence. Consequently, dwelling would have increasingly
involved interacting with the historical and mythical dimensions of the land. Through time this
would have led to a closer association of social groups with particular parts of the landscape.
Together with rising population levels this would have led to a more restricted residential
mobility. Local communities would thus become more fixed in space and the establishment of
stable local communities and fixed burial places at the beginning of the Late Bronze Age can be
seen as a logical effect of this. At urnfields the communal sense is expressed through the uniform
burial ritual and these collective identities are expressed more often than before as each individual
now received its own barrow burial.
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There are, however, several problems with this model. Let us start with the supposed
increase in population level. This is mainly based on an argument made by Roymans and
Kortlang (1999, 37-8; Gerritsen 2001, 233-4). They argue that a difference in the number of
known Middle Bronze Age versus Late Bronze Age burial places reflects a rise in population, as
they inventoried 55 barrow groups against 85 urnfields. A first problem with this interpretation,
concerns the manner in which barrow groups are defined. This may significantly change the
number of groups. Theunissen (1999, 47), who maintains a different definition, discerns 77
barrow groups – just 8 less than the number of urnfields. A second problem concerns differential
survival of the two site types. On the one hand, the rather large Middle Bronze Age monuments
are more easily recognized than urnfields and therefore possibly less often destroyed, but on the
other hand urnfields are much easier to recognize during excavations because of the large
numbers of surrounding features and the many urns. It is therefore hard to say how representative
the known number of each of these site types is. Thirdly, the known barrow groups are not evenly
distributed over the southern Netherlands: apparent clusters exist in the Kempen and in the
border-area south of Tilburg, while other areas are conspicuously empty (Theunissen 1999, 52).
This patterning is possibly the result of post-depositional processes (Theunissen 1999, 52), which
means that we should not compare the overall number of barrows with that of urnfields from the
entire southern Netherlands. Rather only the numbers of those regions in which a substantial
number of barrows is known should be compared. Also, we must take into account the fact that
most barrows were constructed in a 500-year period between 1900 and 1400 BC (Bourgeois &
Arnoldussen 2006), instead of an 800-year period as assumed by Roymans and Kortlang. And the
first urnfields probably already originated at the beginning of Ha A (see chapter 3), so urnfields
were built during a 400-year period, rather than over 250 years. And as most barrows were built
during the Middle Bronze Age A, they effectively only give information on the population level
during that period, not during Middle Bronze Age B.
So all in all, the number of Middle Bronze Age barrow erected per century need not have
been that much smaller than the number of Late Bronze Age urnfields erected. And what is more,
barrows actually only give information on the population level of the period 1900-1400 BC, not
of the period immediately preceding the Late Bronze Age. In fact, if we compare the settlements
traces from the Middle Bronze Age B and the Late Bronze Age, we see that the evidence from the
latter period is extremely poor compared to that from the previous period (cf. Fontijn & Fokkens
2008, 359). So there appear to be no strong indications for a considerable rise in population level
until the beginning of the Early Iron Age, when both the number of urnfields and settlements
appear to be considerably higher than before.
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A second problem with Gerritsen’s model concerns the supposed relocation patterns of
farmsteads and accompanying fields. According to Gerritsen the pattern of residential mobility
became spatially more restricted through time (2001, 202-3, 254). However, it is unclear on what
evidence Gerritsen bases himself when he characterises the Middle Bronze Age settlement pattern
as being very flexible. And the same goes for Roymans and Kortlang (1999), on which Gerritsen
appears to base himself again (2001, 202-3). For the Middle Bronze Age it is basically unknown
at what time-interval farmsteads were relocated, over what distance they moved and how they
spatially related to agricultural fields (Arnoldussen 2008). And neither is this known for Late
Bronze Age farmsteads, as only a few of these are known (see paragraph 5.3.1). In fact, these
aspects are not even known with any certainty for the Iron Age.
The development of the Celtic field agricultural system in the Late Bronze Age appears to
be part of Gerritsen’s argument for a decreased spatial range of patterns of residential and
agricultural mobility in the Late Bronze Age (2001, 256). Celtic fields are co-axial field systems
that mostly take the form of extended clusters of square and rectangular fields separated by low
earthen banks. For the Iron Age it is known from excavations that farmsteads were located in or
near these field systems. These would have shifted periodically within these arable lands,
resulting in a system in which the fields near the farmstead were in use while other parts of the
Celtic field complex lay fallow for long periods of time (Gerritsen 2001, 180-93). According to
Gerritsen (2001, 256), such a system would have resulted in a spatially more restricted residential
pattern compared to that of the Middle Bronze Age. However, our knowledge of the Celtic field
system is very meagre. We know almost nothing of the residential patterns within the arable
complex, we also do not known how the clusters of fields were formed and, of course, we do not
know how (much) it differed from Middle Bronze Age field systems (Gerritsen 2001, 180-93).
More importantly, we do not even know when the celtic field system first came into existence.
Usually the rise of the systems is associated with a supposed demographic increase and therefore
a Late Bronze Age date is proposed – but as we have seen there is no conclusive evidence for
such a rise in population level in the southern Netherlands. And this date is never confirmed by
evidence from Celtic field research (Gerritsen 2001, 180). So the system might also have
originated during the Early Iron Age (or perhaps even later). All in all, the development of the
Celtic field systems is not a valid indicator of a more spatially restricted residential pattern in the
Late Bronze Age. Combined with the lack of knowledge on Middle Bronze Age residential
model, suggestions on developments of residential mobility from the Middle to Late Bronze Age
can only be tentative.
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The third problem of Gerritsen’s model of the genesis of urnfields concerns the
development of a mythical geography. According to Gerritsen (2001, 254) the infill of the
landscape with barrows through time would have resulted in an increased interaction with the
historical and mythical dimensions of the land which through time led to a closer association of
social groups with particular parts of the landscape. However, Bourgeois and Arnoldussen (2006)
have shown that most barrows were constructed before 1400 BC and so the majority of the
historical and ancestral markers of the mythical geography would already have been present at the
beginning of the Middle Bronze Age B. But it is not until the end of the Middle Bronze Age that
social groups became associated with parts of the land so strongly that this relationship found
expression in fixed burial places, the urnfields. How does one explain this time lag of several
centuries between the formation of the mythical geography and the sudden large scale expression
of the relation between people and the land?
Summarizing, there is no firm evidence for a rise in population level and an
accompanying infill of the landscape, neither is there for significant changes in residential
mobility from the Middle to Late Bronze Age, and the elements for a mythical geography with
which communities could be associated were already present several centuries before the start of
the urnfield period. So obviously there are no indications for a process leading to a more sharply
defined territorial organisation and an increased social integration at the end of the Middle Bronze
Age, as there does appear to be for the Early Iron Age. Rather than being the outcome of such a
process, urnfields, as the first fixed symbols of the identity of a local communities, might just as
well been instrumental in such a process, that would then have started with the coming of the first
urnfields and culminated in the Early Iron Age.
So a supposed increased desire to express collectivity need not have existed at the start of
the Late Bronze Age. Nonetheless, I do agree with Gerritsen that above all urnfields do seem to
express such collectivity (2001, 255). Fokkens stresses a process of individualisation as reflected
by each person receiving its own barrow burial in urnfields. However, as explained in chapter 4,
the dense layout of small barrows and the uniformity in burial practices and monument form to
my opinion mostly express a sense of communality (cf. Gerritsen 2001, 255). But how does this
differ from the values expressed through Middle Bronze Age barrow rituals?
Of course a major difference is the inclusiveness of the burial rite. While urnfields appear
to contain the remains of almost all members of a society, only a selection of the Middle Bronze
Age population (10-15%) was buried in barrows (Gerritsen 2001, 150-1). And whereas for
urnfields it is reasonable to assume that the burial community consists mainly of the members of
the local community living in territory around the cemetery, the composition of the burial
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community of barrows is unknown. For long it was thought that Middle Bronze Age barrows
were erected in the vicinity of a house for the burial of a family head of the household and his
descendents (Fokkens 2003). They were supposed to be ‘family barrows’. However, a survey of
published burial mounds by Bourgeois and Fontijn (2008) has shown that most barrow contain far
fewer burials than there would be members of a household. Also, there is no indication for the
Southern Netherlands that the selection of the person interred in the primary barrow grave was
based on age, sex or a high social status (Fontijn & Cuijpers 2002, 176). And neither does there
appear to be such a selection criteria for secondary burials (Fontijn & Cuijpers 2002, 174;
Theunissen 1999, 98-100). So apparently selection for a barrow burials is based on other criteria
than ‘status’: like with urnfield burials it is not the identity of the individual that seems to be
stressed during the barrow ritual. Rather barrows contained the remains of people from all age
groups and all sexes. It might therefore very well be that the Middle Bronze Age barrow, as a
collective grave, symbolized a social entity like a household (cf. Fontijn & Cuijpers 2002, 174;
Bourgeois & Fontijn 2008, 43). Often Middle Bronze Age barrows were re-used, so there appear
to have existed a preference for continually burying the deceased at a fixed place: apparently “the
barrow and the dead buried in it, was itself seen as an important entity with which people could
identify. In the continual re-use of the barrow, ties between the burial community, the deceased
person and the world of the ancestors, represented by the older graves, were reaffirmed. In it a
group defined itself as a collective, rooted in an ancestral past” (Fontijn & Cuijpers 2002, 177).
The notion of a burial ground as a symbol of the collective, however this collective was defined
and the link between this community and the burial ground was conceptualised, may therefore
have been nothing new when the first urnfields came about.
5.3.3 Bronze Depositions
The notion of collectivity, as we found it being expressed at burial grounds, also appears to have
been significant at the ritual deposition of bronzes in the Middle and Late Bronze Age. The
practice of bronze deposition is widespread in Bronze Age Europe. For the southern Netherlands
it has recently been extensively studied by David Fontijn (2002). The insights gained in his study
on the value system of Bronze Age communities in this region will be summarized here (also
Fontijn 2008). Let us start with a general overview of the characteristics of the system of bronze
deposition as practiced in the southern Netherlands. The most salient feature of this system is that
it is a form of selective deposition: specific kinds of objects were deposited in specific kinds of
places. In general, the deposition of metalwork that was intended to be permanent involved
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placing a bronze object in an unaltered, watery location. Certain distinct patterns can be
discerned:
1. Axes, sickles and weapons were not deposited in graves, but elsewhere.
2. Swords were deposited predominantly in major rivers.
3. Metalwork deposition on farmyards or in houses occasionally took place, particularly of
sickles.
4. Lavish ornament and dress items of a supra-regional style were deposited in wet or semi-dry
location, while local or inconspicuous items tend also to be deposited in graves.
The most common kind of deposition is that of a single item; multi-object hoards are
rather rare. The deposited objects in general show signs of having been used and were imported
items. Apparently the life-path of the objects mattered, and a life in exchange networks seems to
have been important. These objects were generally deposited in a well-preserved state, some
weapons even being sharpened before deposition.
An important aspect of these depositional practices is that they are highly conservative.
The patterns observed seem to have been maintained in more or less the same way from the
beginning of the Middle Bronze Age to the end of the Late Bronze Age: a period of a thousand
years. What did change was the frequency in which deposition occurred. After being a rare
practice in the Early Bronze Age, bronze deposition became more regular in the Middle Bronze
Age A, gradually increasing throughout the Bronze Age to finally conspicuously peak in the Late
Bronze Age.
Let us now see what the implications are of such a system of selective deposition. The
fact that specific kinds of objects were deposited in specific kinds of places suggests that these
items were considered not comparable because they carry specific and different meanings. Such
meanings come about through the life-path of the object. And indeed, the deposited objects show
signs of such a use-life and a life of circulation. This suggests that the objects did not carry
special meanings from the beginning but that these resulted from their biographies. Many of the
deposited items are objects that are instrumental in marking the life stages of individuals and
signal social roles and statuses. The biography of items as body ornaments, dress fittings and
weaponry should therefore be seen as related to the construction of personal identities. Significant
in this regard is a distinction between two kinds of depositional contexts: burials and unaltered
places. Although the items are all related to a personal identity, the nature of this relation differs
between burials and unaltered places. In burials the deceased is decorated and equipped with
bronze items and thus a particular kind of person is created. However, deliberately removing the
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same kind of objects by sacrificing them at unaltered implies the de-construction of a kind of
identity. So what kinds of items were deposited in burials, then, and what kinds of item at
unaltered places?
A first category of bronze objects found at unaltered places is weaponry. A second
category consists of ornaments of a non-local style. Both categories of exotic items represent
values that were probably considered ambiguous, namely martial identity, warfare and the supraregional. Weaponry can be considered ambiguous because from a socio-political perspective it
implicates the unequal distribution of power and authority, while from a moral perspective the
use weapons can be considered a polluting act as it involves the transgression of the boundary
between life and death. This conflicts with the collectivity that is expresses at barrow groups and
urnfields (see chapter 4). Also, the weapons depict a kind of imagery that was shared over several
regions, as do the ornaments in supra-regional style. It suggests a reality in which a local group is
part of much wider, social whole. A reality that might be ambiguous as it represents the
dependency of the local group on factors beyond their control. It is these categories of bronze
objects – and the values they represent – that are kept from burials. In Middle Bronze Age burials
metals are almost absent, while during the Late Bronze Age only simple ornaments were
deposited according idiosyncratic norms and ideas, thus stressing above all a local identity. So
apparently different, conflicting values were expressed at different places: martiality and
membership of supra-regional exchange networks at one context, and localism and collectivity at
another.
So what does such a system of selective deposition bring about then? As explained, all
the items deposited at unaltered places are of an ambiguous nature. They contest the collectivity
and egalitarity of the local community. Such ambiguity should be dealt with. As so many of these
items end up at unaltered places deposition apparently is a means to align these ambiguous,
foreign items with the moral order of the local community. Through the deposition ritual the
meaning acquired by the items is celebrated for the last times, and then de-constructed by
exchanging them with the local landscape from which the communities derived the important
sense of belonging. Thus the items are recontextualised.
5.3.4 Conclusion
Fokkens (1997) has suggested that the genesis of the urnfield burial ritual in the Southern
Netherlands is a logical outcome of a process of individualisation that must have started at the
end of the Middle Bronze Age, as indicated by evidence on settlements, bronze exchange and
burial ritual. However, I have shown that evidence for the splitting of extended into nuclear
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families, as indicated by diminishing farmstead lengths, does date earlier than the end of the Late
Bronze Age. The bronze exchange network might indeed have opened up to a larger group of
people at the end of the Middle Bronze Age, as the significantly increased amount of bronze
deposited during the Late Bronze Age suggests (Fontijn 2002, 257). However, we have seen that
patterns in bronze deposition suggest that the personal identities acquired through these
exchanges, such as martial identities and belonging to a supra-regional community, were socially
and morally circumscribed. Especially during the burial ritual they found no expression. Also, I
have suggested that individualism as reflected in urnfields by each person receiving its own
barrow burial in urnfields is outdone by the collectivity as expressed through the uniformity of
the ritual.
So instead of individualism it rather appears to be collectivity that was a central value, at
least when it comes to the burial rite.
And this sense of collectivity was not restricted to the
uniform urnfield rituals, but also the Middle Bronze Age barrow ritual seem to have given little
expression to the person as an individual, as age, sex or high status appear not to have been
selection criteria for inclusion in the barrow burial community. However, indications for an
increasing sense of communality or a desire to give expression thereof at the end of the Middle
Bronze Age, as suggested by Gerritsen (2001), appear to be absent. There is no conclusive
evidence for a rise in population level, a decreasing residential mobility or a closer association of
local communities with parts of a historical landscape.
Besides the collective other values were evident in the Bronze Age society of the
Southern Netherlands. The regularity and monumentality found in Middle Bronze Age houses
denounce the social and ideological significance of the household. This regularity of the house is
part of a wider sense of traditionalism that appears to characterise the Middle Bronze Age B
cultural landscape, as shown by the clustering and frequent re-use of barrows and a structured
system of metal deposition at natural places (Arnoldussen & Fontijn 2006). One can easily see
how the spatially fixed urnfields are in accordance with this regularity and order of the late
Middle Bronze Age landscape.
5.4 Material Constraints: Subsistence & Ecology
The subsistence strategy of the Bronze Age communities of the southern Netherlands is
characterized by a system of true mixed-farming as defined by Louwe Kooijmans (1993), that is,
a system of combined and interdependent crop cultivation and livestock rearing. Amongst this
livestock cattle dominates (60-80%), with sheep and pig following in smaller quantities
(Arnoldussen & Fontijn 2006, fig. 8). The main staple was cereal crops, with barley and emmer
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wheat being the most common species, supplemented by bread wheat and millet. From the Late
Bronze Age onwards spelt and flax were also part of the staple (De Hingh 2000; Van
Wijngaarden-Bakker & Brinkkemper 2005). This will incidentally have been supplemented by
wild game, fish, fowl and collected natural sources (Arnoldussen & Fontijn 2006, fig. 8). Of the
latter charred acorns are often retrieved and incidentally sloe prunes, raspberries and wild apples.
There are no indications for significant changes occurring in the diet from the Middle to the Late
Bronze Age. So let us take a look at the conditions of the land that provided this diet.
The Bronze Age landscape of the Southern Netherlands (and Northern Belgium) is
characterized by gently undulating cover sand ridges, crosscut by streams and marshes. These
streams and marshes divide the cover sand area into numerous small and large plateaus. The
cover sand ridges are mostly low and elongated, following a general southwesterly to
northeasterly direction. The flow of the streams is mainly determined by the orientation of the
ridges. Due to minor differences in elevation of the area and the barriers formed by some cover
sand ridges, some areas are poorly drained leading to the formation of marsh and peat areas.
Beneath the 0,5 to 1,5 m thick cover sands the subsoil consists of coarse sediments of precursors
of the rivers Meuse and Rhine. In the Peel area these sediments surface as the result of tectonic
processes. Drainage is thereby hindered and an extensive peat area had formed in this area in the
Bronze Age, forming an inhabited zone between the Meuse valley in the east and the western
cover sand plateaus. In the northern and northwestern border area of the study area peat and
marine clays dominate. All in all, the Bronze Age landscape of the Southern Netherlands was a
differentiated whole consisting of wet and dry zones with slight differences in elevation
(Gerritsen 2001, 27-9).
Mineralogically the sandy soils of the south are rather poor with limited natural fertility,
while precipitation surplus contributes to the eluviation of minerals from the top soil. The result is
vulnerability for soil degradation as it is a situation in which podzolisation can take place: the
process of humus elements and iron oxides leaching from the top soil and being deposited at a
lower level. Podzolisation on sandy soils is affected by the loam content of the soil, the vegetation
cover and human activities. When the loam content of the sandy soil does not exceed 10%
podzols will be formed notwithstanding the type of vegetation cover. The soils thus formed are
so-called ‘primary podzols’. Whether soils with a loam content between 10 and 20-25% will or
will not podzolise, does depend on vegetation cover, hydrological conditions and the amount and
type of humus entering the ground. Human activities like crop cultivation and forest clearing can
have a profound impact on these latter conditions and in the long run cause accelerated
podzolisation. This might result in ‘secondary podzols’. In soils with a loam content higher than
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20-25% podzols are unlikely to develop. The most common type of soil type now current on the
sandy soils of the southern Netherlands is the humus podzol, which consists of both primary and
secondary podzols. However, these soils have, of course, developed through time and it is unclear
to what extent the present situation compares with that of the Bronze or Iron Age (Gerritsen 2001,
214-5).
It is probably fair to assume that by the beginning of the Bronze Age most primary
podzols had already formed in the sandy soils, as the conditions of a climate with precipitation
surplus had already existed since the early Holocene. The question is therefore to what extent
secondary podzolisation had taken place by the beginning of the urnfield period. Palynological
investigation of barrows from the Late Neolithic and Bronze Age have shown that from the
beginning of the Bronze Age onwards gradual heath land expansion took place in the sandy areas
of the southern Netherlands. Such acid heather vegetation is typical for humuspodzols. Forest
generation did take place, however, and the heath lands probably remained limited in size.
Palynological evidence from urnfields, on the other hand, show that these cemeteries were laid
out in an increasingly more open landscape (Gerritsen 2001, 242).
It is generally assumed that during the urnfield period an acceleration of soil degradation
occurred as the result of the mentioned forest clearance (leading to increased water flow and
secondary podzolisation), the intensive Celtic field agricultural system, and a rising population
level (Gerritsen 2001, 243). In time this degradation process led to the reaching of a threshold at
the end of the Early Iron Age and the beginning of the Middle Iron Age, after which habitation on
the sandy soils had to be given up. (Gerritsen 2001, 243). However, in the last paragraph I have
explained that there is no conclusive evidence for an increasing population level or an
intensifying agricultural regime from the Middle to Late Bronze Age. So we only have
palynological evidence indicating a gradual opening of the landscape during the Bronze Age and
especially during the urnfield period. But to what extent this have led to significant material
constraints during the Middle and Late Bronze Age is for now impossible to assess. As forest
clearance apparently still took place during the Middle Bronze Age the effects of soil degradation
would probably have been limited.
5.5 Demography & Population Structure
In this paragraph I will reconstruct the demography of Middle and Late Bronze Age southern
Netherlands at different levels and see how the population is structured in different social groups
and communities. At the smallest social scale we have the household. Many authors have tried to
estimate the number occupants of Bronze Age houses. Three methods have been used to come at
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educated guesses of household size: using correlations between living floor area and number of
occupants based on cross-cultural comparisons, using historical analogues and census numbers,
or establishing the maximum nutritional capacity of fields or live stock. The estimated household
sizes range between 5 and 20 people, but, of course, none of these methods provide us with
conclusive numbers (Arnoldussen 2008, 86). Besides, for the Middle Bronze Age the correctness
of these numbers depends on whether or not a part of the house was in use as a byre-section.
At a larger scale we have the settlement or local community. For the Middle Bronze Age
estimates of local group sizes are as tentative as those of household sizes, as they are often
nothing more than fair guesses or multiplications of the assumed number of households that make
up a local community. In general, the estimated sizes range between 10 and 30 persons
(Arnoldussen 2008, 86-7, table 3.6). For the urnfield period, however, we have a more firm base
for estimating the size of local communities: the urnfields. When the total number of burials, the
average live expectancy of the population, and the period of use of a burial ground is known, one
can calculate the approximate size of the local community. An important requisite is, however,
that the entire community is buried at the same cemetery. For the Dutch urnfields this is assumed
to be the case, as the cemeteries consists of many burials in which all age classes and sexes are
represented. Only the youngest children, those younger than 2 years old, appear to be
underrepresented. However, this can be corrected in the calculation by adjusting the average live
expectancy of the burial community (Hessing & Kooi 2005, 647-8). Also, not all urnfield burials
appear to have contained one individual (see Theuws & Roymans 1999). However, for most
excavated urnfields physical-anthropological analyses of the human remains has not been carried
out, so the estimations of community size based on these urnfields will be a bit low (cf. Fokkens
1997, 363). On average the estimated size of local communities in the urnfield period ranges
between 5 and 25 people (Hessing & Kooi 2005, 648-9). This roughly corresponds with the
community size estimated for the Middle Bronze Age. Such a community would then consist of 1
to 2 households in the Bronze Age or of about 4 Early Iron Age households.
If we have an estimate for community size we can also estimate the general population
size of the southern Netherlands if we know how many communities existed at a time. Estimating
the number of communities during Middle Bronze Age is hard, however. As settlements are hard
to define and relatively little traces of them are known, we have to use the distribution of barrows
and barrow groups to infer the density of habitation. But as we have seen earlier (paragraph 5.3.2)
it is hard to evaluate the representativity of the current barrow distribution. And more
importantly, we do not know how barrows spatially relate to settlement territories and
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conceptually relate to local communities. Estimating population size from barrow distribution is
therefore impossible.
For the Late Bronze Age (and Early Iron Age) it is generally assumed that each urnfield
is the burial ground of a local community inhabiting a territory marked by this urnfield (Gerritsen
2001; Hessing & Kooi 2005, 649). The approximate size of these local communities have been
estimated, so all that is needed is to know the total number of urnfields in order to calculate the
population level for the Late Bronze Age. In chapter 3 it was shown that I have inventoried a total
of 23 urnfields with conclusive evidence for Late Bronze Age activity, while Gerritsen (2001,
appendix 2) has dated another 39 Dutch urnfields to the Late Bronze Age on slightly different,
less strict criteria. His catalogue also contains 76 sites that could not be dated more precisely than
the entire urnfield period (these numbers exclude the sites from the Belgian part of Gerritsen’s
research area). Gerritsen (2001, 233-7) also estimates that in the total Meuse-Demer-Scheldt area
about 200 urnfields have been destroyed without documentation or still lie beneath essen soils. As
with the known urnfields, most will have lain on Dutch soil. Let us say 125. So in total we have
about 240 urnfields that might date to the Late Bronze Age. But what fraction of these really do
date to this period? Of the 188 urnfield in Gerritsen’s inventory that could be dated, I dated 23 to
the Late Bronze Age while Gerritsen dated 62 to this period - that is 12 to 33%. Early Iron Age
burials are, however, more easily recognized than Late Bronze Age interments, as amongst
pottery from this period there are two very distinct types: the Schräghalsurne and the pottery in
Harpstedt style. So I guess it is a fair estimate to say that of the 240 undated urnfields perhaps as
much as 40% or 96 urnfields belong to the Late Bronze Age. With the 23 urnfields that could be
conclusively dated to this period, this comes to a total of 119 Late Bronze Age urnfields (mind
that this number applies to the Dutch part of the Meuse-Demer-Scheldt area only). If we assume
that to each urnfield belongs a community of 5 to 25 people, the total population of Late Bronze
Age southern Netherlands ranges between 595 and 2975 persons.
Now let us see how this Bronze Age population was structured. As explained in chapter
2, singling out different kinds of groups and communities is important, because it is to be
expected that cultural evolution is driven by different forces and/or proceeds in different
directions within each of the subpopulations present. We already came across two communities,
that of the household and that of the settlement or local community, but many more communities
probably existed. The constellation of communities was probably fluid and dynamic: a person
could belong to several communities, such as a household, a local community, a sacrificial
community, a kin group, an age group, etc. and such relations probably shifted depending on,
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amongst other things, context, time, and condition of the individual. But, of course, what we are
really interested in is the nature of the burial community.
We already saw that during the urnfield period the people being buried at a cemetery
were probably the members of a single local community. For the Middle Bronze Age the physical
and conceptual link between barrows and the local community is less clear. But a burial
community is, of course, made up of more people than the buried – there are of course also the
buriers. And establishing who these buriers, or mourners, are is even more difficult than
establishing who the buried are, as the former leave virtually no archaeological traces.
Nonetheless, it is essential for the current study to get a general idea of who the mourners are, as
it are these people that spread the cultural ideas on burial rites. Theoretically the group of
mourners can consist of three kinds of persons: people guiding the burial ritual, people executing
it, and onlookers. During different stages of the ritual the composition of this group might change,
with people switching roles and perhaps leaving or entering the community of mourners. Stages
of the ritual of which we have direct of indirect evidence from Bronze Age burial grounds (and
therefore those of which we can study the spread of associated variants) are:
-producing and selecting objects that act in the burial rite;
-selecting location for burial;
-choosing between inhumation and cremation;
-building pyre;
-laying out body and items on pyre;
-burning of body;
-collecting remains from the burned pyre;
-selection and creation of burial structure (pit, tree-coffin, etc.);
-depositing remains and grave goods;
-constructing mound body;
-selecting and creating peripheral structure of barrow;
-ceremonies conducted after burial.
One can imagine how the composition of the group of mourners differs between these stages. The
selection of grave goods, burial location and body treatment (inhumation vs. cremation) may, for
instance, have been done by the direct relatives of the deceased together with a ritual authority
like chief or shaman, possibly without any onlookers. The building of the pyre and the
construction of the mound and its peripheral structure may perhaps have been done by the
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(representatives of the) different households of the local community to which the deceased
belongs, under the eye of a large group of spectators. Interring the remains and grave gifts may,
on the other hand, have been a rather intimate act, of which the details were perhaps only visible
to those directly involved.
These are of course mere speculations and the exact details of who did what will probably
never be known and do, in fact, not concern us here. What is important to realize, is that there are
three groups with their own ‘cultural fitness’, their own abilities to affect the type and frequency
of ideas or cultural variants present in a population. First, there are the onlookers. During the
burial ritual these have least influence on the cultural variant as they can only observe the ritual
and not affect its execution. Whether onlookers were present during Bronze Age burial rituals is
at present unknown, as evidence in the form of, for instance, large feasts have not been found. It
is therefore possible that burials were a private affair. However, it is likely that spectators were
present, as they are at burials in most present-day societies. Also the location of both barrows and
urnfields suggest that burials were a public affair, since they are often located at fairly accessible
or sometimes even conspicuous places. For both it has even been suggested that they are located
along roads (Drenth & Lohof 2005, 433; Hessing & Kooi 2005, 645). This in contrast to the
inaccessible, unaltered places where bronzes were deposited (Fontijn 2002). The presence of
onlookers is also to be expected if the Bronze Age burial rite had the social function of expressing
the ancestral relation between a community and the land, as is often assumed (Gerritsen 2001).
Such a message would clearly be less potent without spectators. So spectators are likely to have
been present and this group would probably have consisted at least of most members of the
household and local community to which the deceased belonged. Also present were probably
certain members of wider communities, such as the exchange or trade network to which the
deceased (or his near relatives) belonged, the wider religious community (Gerritsen 2001, 175-9)
and wider kinship relations.
The second group consists of the people executing the burial rituals. In contrast to the
onlookers, people from this group do have the ability to alter the cultural variant. One can
imagine how people during the execution of ritual might have options. While the course of certain
parts of the ritual might be strictly stipulated by tradition and religious consideration, others parts
may allow more room for personal infill. Sometimes the executioners might even have altered the
course of the highly traditional aspects out of personal considerations. Those people executing the
ritual were probably those nearest to deceased, the members of the household, kin group and the
local community. These are the same people that at other funerals were the onlookers. Members
of society that were deemed important, such as kin group elders, probably figured most promptly
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during these rituals. This means that for most part the transmission of ideas on the right conduct
of a burial rite took place amongst a small group of persons. Some parts of the ritual were perhaps
carried out by a particular specialized group of people. For instance, in modern-day Hindoe
societies of India, the burning and handling of the corpse is done by people from a particular
caste, as it is considered an impure act.
The persons with the highest cultural fitness are those guiding the ritual: the religious
authority. As these people create or at least proclaim the right course and traits of the ritual, one
can imagine that they, knowingly or unknowingly, have considerable opportunities to maintain or
alter it. I will discuss the nature of authority in the Bronze Age in the next paragraph.
5.6 Social Constraints: Authority & Influence
For many areas in Bronze Age Europe evidence for the existence of a social stratification is
thought to be present. For instance, in Southern Scandinavia Earle (1997; 2002; 2004) and
Kristiansen (1984; 1998; 2001; Kristiansen & Larsson 2005), see the presence of chiefs attested
in burial and settlement evidence. Several arguments are presented by these authors. First, the
burial evidence indicates the existence of two social classes: chiefs who were buried with fragile,
lavishly decorated, unused flange-hilted swords, and warriors that were buried with more solid,
battered solid-hilted swords. Secondly, the settlement evidence shows the existence of farm
houses of unusual size – supposed chiefly halls. Thirdly, it is assumed that the intensification of
life stock rearing would have led to a tradable surplus that allowed chiefs to access and control
the exchange and production of bronzes, the redistribution of which sustained warrior retinues.
Lastly, the burial ritual displayed social stratification by chiefs being buried in large barrows with
more and more lavish grave goods than warriors. These arguments have recently been assessed
by Arnoldussen (2008, 433-7) and considered whether they also apply to Dutch Bronze Age
societies. I shall shortly repeat his conclusions.
Notwithstanding the apparent presence of two types of persona being constructed during
mortuary rituals – that of the warrior and the chief – Arnoldussen (2008, 433-4), to my opinion
correctly, doubts whether this indeed reflects two social roles. Starting from the dictum that the
dead do not bury themselves, he explains that grave goods might not be a direct reflection of
personal ownership and social categories, but rather of an identity (real or ascribed)
communicated by the bereaved. The traditionality found in the grave good set could therefore
indicate a long-term tradition of stressing a specific identity. Solid evidence for martiallity being
a full-time affair in the Bronze Age is, in fact, absent. Fontijn (2003) has explained that
weaponry, or rather the values it represents, such as martiallity and belonging to a supra-regional
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community, might, in fact, have been considered ambiguous as it contests the moral order (see
paragraph 5.3.3). Warriorhood might therefore, at least in the Netherlands, have been a temporary
identity that was ritually and socially circumscribed. In the southern Netherlands burials
containing weaponry and/or lavish bronzes are in fact absent, as we saw in our discussion on
bronze deposition (paragraph 5.3.3). Here weaponry is known from ritual deposits at unaltered
places. Fontijn (2003, 230) interprets these as deposits made at transitions of social roles, which
took place for instance at a certain age of the bearer or after weapons had been used during a
battle or raid. Depositing the weapons at unaltered places deconstructed the identity and
recontextualised the items and the values they stand for with the moral order (see paragraph
5.3.3). So obviously it is not the martial values expressed through weaponry that should be
doubted – armed violence was a part of the Dutch Bronze Age society as attested by mass-burials
and use-wear on weapons – but rather the notion of warriorhood as a full-time affair.
The second strand of evidence to consider is that from settlement sites. In southern
Scandinavia several houses have been found that fall beyond the normal size distribution
(Arnoldussen 2008, 435). These have been interpreted as the residences of chiefs. However, as
Arnoldussen (2008, 435-7) notes, the houses are indeed of abnormal size, but it is unclear
whether they are extremes of a continuous distribution or indeed represent a different class of
house. Their large size may have been the result of a compartmentalized construction history and
the presence of hearth, pits and stalls in large houses from Swedish sites suggests that the
function of these houses did not differ from smaller examples. Indeed, other than their size, there
is no evidence to suggest that the occupants have been of higher social rank. And neither is there
for the Dutch longhouses of which also several large examples are known. Also, like the
Scandinavian houses, the Dutch examples do not show a bimodal but a continuous distribution in
size. Neither is it evident that these houses sheltered a larger livestock; the supposed surplus with
which the chief could enter exchange networks. Indeed there is no evidence that livestock size or
composition differed significantly between Dutch Bronze Age settlements. So, while houses may
indeed have communicated messages about the social status of its residents, there is no
conclusive evidence to suggest that they are or are not the residence of chiefs.
In conclusion we can say that neither evidence from settlements nor that from burial sites
provides conclusive indications for the presence of a social class of chiefs or warriors. This, of
course, does not mean that the Bronze Age society of the southern Netherlands was an egalitarian
one. Social stratification was probably present, but it is the basis, duration, extent and exclusivity
of this authority that is unknown. For the moment, any suggestions on these matters would be
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mere speculation. One kind of authority does need some further discussion, though, as it is vital
for this study: the religious authority.
As explained in the last paragraph, the religious authority guiding the Bronze Age burial
rituals is the kind of person with the highest cultural fitness and therefore a vital part of the
process of culture change. However, evidence on the nature of such an authority in Bronze Age
Netherlands is lacking. In fact, we do not even know whether any religious authority existed. But
as in most societies a religious authority in the person of a priest or shaman does exist (Hicks
2010), it is to be expected that it also did in the Bronze Age. And in fact, for the Nordic world
Kristiansen and Larsson (2005) have formulated very specific ideas on the nature of such an
authority. They are, actually, one of the very few who have given thought to the nature of
religious authority in Bronze Age Europe.
In Scandinavia they see evidence in burials,
settlements, bronze deposits and iconography for the presence of a priestly chief. What they have
found is paraphernalia and symbolism known from Near Eastern and eastern Mediterranean
cultures. In the cultures paraphernalia and symbols signal a chief who is also a ritual leader. This
priestly chief is part of an institution of dual leadership, with a warrior chief as its political
counterpart – a socio-political implementation of a wider religious structure of Twin Gods. As it
goes too far to assess the correctness of this interpretation for the Nordic world, it may suffice to
say here that we have no evidence that indicates a similar institution existed in the southern
Netherlands during the Bronze Age. It is to be expected that an intimate relation existed between
religion and politics, as it generally does in ‘primitive’ societies: “If by politics we denote those
behavioural processes of resolution of conflict between the common good and the interests of
groups by the use of or struggle for power, then religion in [primitive] societies is pragmatically
connected with the maintenance of those values and norms expressing the common good and
preventing the undue exercise of power.” (Turner 2010, 147-8). Both ritual and political leaders
have a major stake in how society is constituted and the action of both affect the moral and
cosmological order. However, the nature of this relation between political and religious authority
remains unknown for the Bronze Age of the southern Netherlands.
So what kind of religious functionaries can we expect to have been present in this
society? In anthropology and sociology a distinction is generally made between priests and
shamans. The main difference between these is that shamans acquire their status through personal
communication with super-natural beings, whereas priests have competence in conducting ritual
without necessarily having a face-to-face relationship with the spirits. The institution of the ritual
intervenes between the priest and the deity (Turner 2010, 140-1). This distinction results in two
different kinds of operation. “The priests preside over a rite; the shaman or medium conducts a
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seance. Symbolic forms associated with these occasions differ correlatively: the symbols of a rite
are sensorily perceptible to a congregation, while those of a seance are mostly in the mind of the
entranced functionary as elements in his visions or fantasies and are often generated by and
limited to the unique occasion.” (Turner, 141). Although the distinction between chief and
shamans may perhaps not always have been as easy and clear-cut as present here, it is important
to make this distinction for prehistoric societies – something which is almost never explicitly
done for Bronze Age Europe (see for example, Kristiansen & Larsson 2005 – because the sociocultural correlates of these two types of religious functionaries differs significantly.
Priests are mainly concerned with the conservation and maintenance of a deposit of
beliefs and practices that were handed down from the founders of the social or religious system.
They can be seen as actors in a culturally “scripted” drama. Only rarely do they radically innovate
in religion. If a priest does so, (s)he likely becomes a prophet to followers and a heretic to former
peers. So a priest actually keeps cultural change and individual deviation within narrow limits.
The shaman and prophet, on the other hand, are less bound up with the maintenance of the total
cultural system. They are more sensitive and responsive to the private and personal. This type of
functionary is likely to be found in loosely structured cultures, dealing individually with specific
occasions of trouble, or during period of social turbulence and change, when societal consensus
about values is sharply declining and large classes of people are becoming alienated from the
current social order (Turner 2010, 141-2). What is more, ethnographic examples show that during
funerals shamans have little concern for the proper conduct of the ritual – mostly they are centred
on the welfare and proper passage of the spirit of the deceased (Hicks 2010).
So did the religious authority in Bronze Age southern Netherlands lie with institutional or
inspirational functionaries? Unfortunately, we have no direct evidence to distinguish between one
or the other. We can, however, try to deduce it from the kind of society present in Bronze Age
and the kind or rituals performed in it. Cross-cultural studies show that often where there is a
priest the shaman is absent, and the other way around. Shamans tend to predominate in loosely
structured, food-gathering societies, where they perform rites for the benefits of one or a few
individuals and within the context of an extended family group. Priests are mostly found in
structurally elaborated food-producing societies – usually agrarian societies – performing public
rites for the benefit of a whole community (Turner 2010, 140). As we saw, these rites were highly
traditional and involved conspicuous symbolism and acts perceptible by a congregation. Bronze
Age society can probably be best characterised as the latter. Rituals in many parts of Europe
appear to have been public (Bradley 1998) and highly traditional, with a widespread and
perspicuous symbolism (Kristiansen & Larsson 2005). And although the nature of the structure of
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European Bronze Age societies remains a matter of debate, a rather elaborate structure is apparent
(Kristiansen 1998). So the presence of an institutional religious functionary – a priest – seems to
be the most likely for Bronze Age societies.
In terms of social constraints, the priest, together with the political leader, has several
advantages over the commoner. Firstly, they are figures of authority. This gives them the means
to force their ideas on others, by force, threat, persuasiveness, etc. Especially the role of religious
authority will have been important in the spread of ideas on burial rites, as such rites belong
mainly to the sphere of influence of this authority. Secondly, the political and religious leaders
are often public figures with personal charisma. However this charisma is defined (the individuals
could be deemed successful, prestigious), it brings about a predisposition amongst commoners to
imitate them. Amongst the religious and political leaders there have probably also been
differences - priests have more authority during rituals than political leaders, and some political
leaders are more charismatic and have more power than others.
5.7 Communication: Modes of Transmission
In the last two paragraphs we have determined which groups were involved in the transmission of
the ideas behind Bronze Age burial rites. In this paragraph we will look at the routes of
transmission – who communicated with whom on these notions – and the means of transmission
– through what media did people communicate. As there is virtually no evidence on these
matters, a theoretical model will be created in the following.
5.7.1 Routes of Transmission
We established that during a burial three groups were present: onlookers, practitioners and
religious functionaries. These are also the people involved in the transmission of the ideas, or
cultural variants, behind the ritual practices. In terms of cultural transmission the onlookers and
practitioners belong to the same group. While a person may be an onlooker at one funeral, he or
she may be a practitioner at another funeral. And this already shows the main route of
transmission amongst this part of the burial community: at one occasion a person observes an
example of proper conduct (he or she is the transmittee), while at another occasion that same
person sets the example (he or she is the transmitter). So people learn by observing others.
Another way to transmit ideas on proper conduct and associated values is through the teaching of
younger members of a society by an elder generation (parent, grand-parents and/or other elders of
the kin group or community) and/or a priest.
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So it appears that within the group of onlookers/practitioners there are several modes of
transmission (table 2.1). People learn by teachings from one or a few elder relatives (vertical
transmission) and by observing peers during multiple rituals (horizontal transmission). However,
it is likely that most members of the burial community insist on the proper, traditional conduct of
respectful practices. So here we have a large group of people (onlookers, leaders and religious
functionaries) uniformly affecting the practice of the individual practitioner. In effect, this is a
form of concerted or many-to-one transmission. In this kind of transmission innovation is
accepted with much difficulty and variation between individuals and groups is low.
People also learn trough the teachings, preaching and rituals of religious functionaries. In
these cases it is a single individual or a few individuals who disseminate ideas to an audience or a
group of pupils: one-to-many transmission. Technically it is impossible to have one-to-many
transmission in a situation where people also learn from elders and peers, because this form of
transmission presupposes only one teacher. Strictly, the religious functionary is just one of
several peers from which a person learns during rituals. However, because of the prominent role
the functionary plays during ritual and because of his ritual authority, this functionary is probably
much more influential than other peers. And as most members of the burial community probably
only know one are a few priests during their life, I think we can speak of a one-to-many relation
between the priest and the burial community. A similar relation probably also exists between the
most influential political leaders and the community. With this kind of transmission, like with the
many-to-one transmission, cultural variation is generally low between individuals. Innovations
are, however, much easier accepted with this kind of transmission, as innovation by the teacher
means almost instantly means innovation by a large group (Shennan 2002, 48-51). Yet, when
information is transmitted by a priest such easy acceptance of innovations will only happen when
the innovation concerns less traditional elements of the ritual or when a priest becomes a prophet
in a situation of social change or turbulence (see paragraph 5.6).
The other group that make up the burial community, besides the onlookers and those
conducting the ritual, are the religious functionaries. We already saw how these leaders of rituals
disseminated their knowledge to others. However, we also need to consider how these
functionaries obtained their knowledge. They probably did so through teachings as a novice and
through meetings with fellow priests (Helms 1988). The former is a case of one-to-many
transmission. The latter is a case of horizontal or contagious transmission, but as most peers
probably insist on the conservation of beliefs and practices it is, in effect, a case of many-to-one
transmission.
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So, the routes of transmission appear to create a highly conservative situation. An
individual can induce variation through vertical transmission from elder to child and through
horizontal transmission from practitioner to onlookers. However, as most members of the burial
community probably insist on a uniform, proper conduct, the conservative many-to-one mode of
transmission dominates. These ideas on proper conduct are probably mainly disseminated by a
priest to audiences and/or pupils in a one-to-many relation. Although such a relation allows for
easy spread of innovations and creation of variation between individuals, innovations are not
likely to occur as the religious functionary him- or herself also belongs to a community of priests
that is taught by a few individuals and consists of peers that insist the long-term maintenance of
set of practices and beliefs.
Having established the modes of transmission, let us now take a look at the geographical aspects
of communication. Since long it is known that the genesis urnfield phenomenon is not an
indigenous development, but that it must have come about under influence of central European
cultures. The main region(s) of influence is not exactly known and neither is the route along
which the practice and values of the urnfield burial rite spread. It is clear, however, that in general
influences come from southern Germany/north-alpine region and the western European urnfield
group (Rhine-Swiss-France Group), and that the practice must have spread over the main
waterways such as the Rhine and the Meuse (Desittere 1968; De Mulder et al. 2008). Knowing
the exact region of origin of the urnfield phenomenon or the route over which it spread need not
concern us here, however. What is of interest is how the cultural variants spread from their region
of origins to the Southern Netherlands.
Two kinds of individuals are probably vital in the spread of the urnfield phenomenon
from region to region: priests and (highly influential) political leaders. We already discussed the
important role or religious functionaries during burial rites. In the last paragraph it was also noted
that amongst the practitioners, high status individuals, such as kin group elders, probably figured
most promptly during burial rites and therefore have most opportunity to affect the burial
community. I also noted that there probably existed an intimate relation between the political and
functional leader; in fact, they might have been the same person or have been part of an
institution of dual leadership. What the two have in common is the long distance travels they
likely undertook in Bronze Age Europe. Although the geographical extent of these travel are a
matter of debate, it is highly probable that not only metal objects covered large distances but that
people accompanied them (Kristiansen 1998; Kristiansen & Larsson 2005). Ethnography shows
that it are often political and religious leaders that travel long distances either to receive religious
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training, to exchange items or trade goods, or simply to conquer the unknown. With these travels
often comes power and fame for these travelers, the leaders, as space and distance in non-modern
societies is often perceived as sacred and supernatural (Helms 1988; 1998).
So with these travelling priests and political leaders (or perhaps priestly chiefs) we have
the main route through which information on burial rites disseminates on a supra-local level. We
can picture now three modes of transmission. Firstly, there are the priests. They obtain their
knowledge on the rituals from a supra-local community of religious functionaries in which they
have a one-to-many relation with a teacher and a many-to-one with their peers. The priests
communicate this knowledge in a one-to-many fashion with audiences of ritual and with pupils in
a local community. As both the priest himself, the community of religious functionaries, and the
audiences of rituals insist on the maintenance of respected practices, cultural evolution through
this route of transmission will in general be very conservative. However, in the case of culture
change innovations will probably spread the easiest and geographically furthest through this
route, because the priest maintains long distance contacts and a one-to-many relation with the
local community.
Secondly, there are the political leaders. These are part of the onlooker/practitioner group
of the burial community. As onlookers they probably attend more funerals than other members of
the local community and attend funerals that are further away. Whereas most members of the
local community will probably only attend burials of members of their own community and of
nearby communities, political leaders will, because of their contacts through exchanges and
travels, will also attend funerals further away. As practitioners they figure more often and more
promptly in rituals than other members of the local community and therefore are more likely to
influence the onlookers. Even more, because they appear as role models (see paragraph 5.8)
However, only the most influential political leaders will probably have a one-to-many relation
with the community. The less influential leaders will have a horizontal relation with followers
and fellow leaders. In the latter case variation can be high and cultural evolution can be rather
rapid. However, like with priests, information will spread the easiest and geographically furthest
via the most influential political leaders. However, this route of transmission will likely be
conservative when innovations introduced by the political leader are not accepted by the priest.
Lastly, there are the members of the burial community that are neither religious nor
political leaders. Their geographical span is limited and so is their ability to influence peers as
they only figure in the burials of their closest relatives while the insistence of the audience on
tradition is likely to be stronger than their predisposition to imitate the individual. These members
of the community probably also transmit information through a vertical one-to-one relation, such
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as a parent-child relation, but in general cultural evolution by this route of transmission is slow
(Shennan 2002, 48-51), slower than in horizontal and one-to-many relations.
5.7.2 Means of Transmission
Now that we have created a model for the routes of information transmission we will take a look
at the media through which this information is spread. We already saw that communication
probably mostly took place during ritual or during teaching by a priest or elder. Such ritual
communication is of a very distinct nature. Bloch (1974; 1977; 1985; 1986; Bradley 1998, 89)
has studied this kind of communication. He found that public rituals communicate through very
specialized media. They follow a strict, formalized course with little room for modification. That
is why media such as song and dance are used. Texts are usually performed in a prescribed
manner, for instance accompanied by certain gestures and uttered in a special manner. By these
features the ritual becomes memorised and transmitted between generations with no modification.
This accurate preservation is what is most important and archaic forms of language are therefore
often used. Bloch explains that the effect of all this is that the contents of the ritual are protected
from challenge or evaluation. Through it a distinct conception of time is created, and the basic
beliefs expressed through ritual lie outside the passage of time and are therefore not to be
challenged (Bradley 1998, 89). So the media used in transmitting information during a ritual
bring about conservatism.
5.8 Conclusion
In this chapter we set out to get an overview of the cultural, social and ecological context in
which the Bronze Age burial rites took place. A description was given of the value system,
ecology and subsistence strategies, demography and populations structure, political and religious
authority, the routes and means of communication, and the changes occurring in these areas
during the period. What we found was that the Bronze Age value system was characterized by
conflicting values. For resolving this conflict a system of selective deposition was at place, in
which items referring to different, morally conflicting realities were deposited at separate
locations in the landscape. Items referring to martiallity and supra-regionality were deposited at
unaltered, natural places, while localism and collectivity was stressed during the burial ritual.
This sense of collectivity was not something new to be expressed at urnfields, but was probably
already a value stressed during the Middle Bronze Age funerary rite as the person as individual
did not seem to find much expression in barrow burials. Indications for a growing need to stress
this collectivity at the end of the Middle Bronze Age, as suggested by some scholars, are not
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evidently present, though. There is no evidence for a growing population, a more restricted
settlement pattern, nor a closer relation between local communities and elements of the land. Next
to collectivity, regularity and traditionalism appear to have been important values for the Bronze
Age dweller in his or her dealing with the land. In the Middle Bronze Age B this finds expression
in the existence of groups of barrow, fences around settlement terrains, repeatedly used bronze
deposition zones and a regular house building tradition. The urnfield as a geographically fixed
burial location is in line with such a structured use and conceptualization of the landscape.
Indications for major material constraints coming into existence at the end of the Middle
Bronze Age are absent. Palynological evidence indicates that the landscape opens up, but
evidence for a changing or intensifying agricultural system or a rise in population level is
inconclusive.
Evidence for changes in the way the population was structured is also absent. The
approximate size of communities at different scales was determined. Of most importance was,
however, establishing the structure of the burial community, those people that transmit the
cultural variants of burial rites. As evidence on this matter is virtually absent, a theoretical model
was created, based on ethnographic examples and logic. The Bronze Age burial community
probably consisted of three groups: a religious functionary guiding the ritual, a group of people
conducting the ritual, and a group of onlookers. The latter two group consists of the same people
changing roles between different (stages of) rituals. The group of people conducting the ritual can
be divided in two kinds of persons: political leaders (household heads, kin group elders, etc.) and
commoners. The type of society existing in the Bronze Age and the nature of the rituals
conducted during this period suggest that the religious functionary was a priest.
Different routes of transmission were present between the different members of the burial
community. The main route of transmission was horizontal transmission: a person watches his or
her peers perform at burials and subsequently copies this behaviour when conducting a ritual himor herself. However, amongst these peers not everyone is equally influential. Political leaders will
figure more promptly during funerals and attend more funerals than commoners, as they are part
of more extensive networks. The priest as an authoritive and charismatic figure will be even more
influential, as are the few political leaders of very high status. As per community only one or two
of such highly influential figures exist they maintain a one-to-many relation with the audience of
rituals, a mode of transmission with the potential of rapid cultural evolution. The priests and
political leaders are also the persons who travel furthest and therefore spread information on new
burial rites the quickest on a supra-local scale. At the same time there also exists a many-to-one
transmission route as the priest and most members of the burial community will likely insist on
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the maintenance of sacred knowledge and respected practices, thereby sending uniform
information to the individual and enhancing conservatism. Equally conservative is the network in
which the priest obtains his knowledge. As a novice he and his peers likely obtained information
in a one-to-many mode from one or a few teachers. Next to that he has a many-to-one relation
with his peers. Also, the specialized media of ritual communication creates a distinct conception
of time, evoking that the basic beliefs expressed through ritual lie outside the passage of time and
are therefore not to be challenged.
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6. Discussion: Modelling Culture Change
6.1 Introduction
In the previous three chapters we have gathered all the building blocks needed to build a model of
culture change. In chapter 3 I described the patterns of change in burial rituals from the Middle to
the Late Bronze Age. It was shown what changed, when it changed and at what frequency the
changes occurred. In chapter 4 we took a look at the ideas and values behind these changing
behaviours. Lastly, in chapter 5, we characterized the social and cultural context in which the
changes took place. In this chapter I will turn to the main goal of this study: explaining the
genesis of urnfields in the southern Netherlands. Now that we know what the cultural constraints,
social constraints, mode of transmission, material constraints, and life history of the transmitters
are, we can start with formulating a hypothesis to explain the witnessed changes in funerary
ritual. This and earlier created hypotheses will be evaluated mathematically, resulting in expected
patterns of culture change. These patterns will subsequently be compared with the actual patterns
described in chapter 3 to generate a best fit.
6.2 A Darwinian Model of Culture Change
The theoretical model to be developed in this paragraph will be a Darwinian model of culture
change. In chapter 2 the premises of such a model were discussed. The basic steps of creating
such a model were also explained. These are (Richerson & Boyd 2005, 97):
-draw up a model of the life history of an individual;
-fit an individual-level model of the cultural (and genetic, if relevant) transmission
processes to the life history;
-decide which cultural (and genetic) variants to consider;
-fit an individual-level model of the ecological effects to the life history and to the
variants;
-scale up by embedding the individual-level processes in a population; and
-extend over time by iterating the one-generation model generation after generation.
I explained that a model created according these steps consists of several building blocks: a
model of life history, cultural constraints, social constraints, material constraints, transmission
processes and the population structure of a society. In the last three chapters a description of these
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building blocks were given. In the following I will consider in an individual-level mode how each
of these building blocks might have shaped the process of culture change in single generation.
We will start with a model of the life history of the individuals involved in the transmission of
cultural variants of burial practices. According to life history theory the schedule and duration of
key events in a lifetime of an organism are shaped by natural selection to produce the largest
possible number of surviving offspring (Shennan 2002, 102-113). Those individuals that come up
with the best allocation of limited resources will be most successful in terms of natural selection.
Life history theory is developed in the context of the study of organic evolution. However, in the
case of cultural evolution other forces of transformation than natural selection may be at play and
the nature of the trade-offs and sources to be allocated may be different. Whereas, for instance, in
organic evolution a relevant trade-off is between producing a large litter with little parental
investment and a small litter with much parental investment, a trade-off in cultural evolution may
be between investing in offspring (private sphere with little influence on peers) and investing in
social life (public sphere with much influence on peers).
Since information on burial rites is mainly transmitted in the public sphere (see chapter
5.7), the amount of time and energy invested by individuals in obtaining a public role is crucial in
the process of the genesis of urnfields. In this regard there exists an important difference between
those people carrying the cultural variants of the urnfield phenomenon and those that carry the
variants of the Middle Bronze Age barrow burial ritual. As most members of the community were
buried in the urnfield period while only a selection of the Middle Bronze Age population was
buried in barrows, the urnfield burial ritual took place considerably more often than barrow
rituals. In terms of cultural evolution this would mean that when the two variant were present
simultaneously, the cultural variant of the urnfield ritual would be transmitted considerably more
often than that of the barrow ritual. It is estimated that in the Middle Bronze Age about 15% of
the population was buried in barrow (Theunissen 1993, 40), while during the Late Bronze Age
almost the entire population was buried in small barrow (see paragraph 5.5). So the chance for
people to witness a urnfield burial would be 6 to 7 times greater than the chance to see a barrow
burial. And this is without taking into consideration the fact that after 1400 BC barrows were only
rarely constructed (Bourgeois & Arnoldussen 2006). This means that in a situation in which there
were no cultural, material or structural constraints and information on the two variants was
transmitted in similar ways and in a similar population - a neutral situation - the urnfield
phenomenon would automatically become the dominant funerary rite. So in terms of natural
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Fig. 6. 1 Assumed life cycle of transmission
selection, holding the cultural variant of the urnfield ritual significantly increases ones cultural
fitness.
Secondly, let us consider how the transmission processes might have shaped the genesis of the
urnfield burial ritual on an individual level. In the last chapter a theoretical model was created of
the modes of transmission current in Middle and Late Bronze Age southern Netherlands. Three
kinds of individuals were involved in the transfer of ideas on burial practices: commoners,
political leaders and priests. The commoners spread variants through horizontal transmission at
rituals and through vertical transmission in parent-child relations. The political leaders spread
information in a similar manner, with the difference that they are more salient than others as they
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figure more promptly and more often at funerals. They are also more influential because of their
authority and personal charisma. As a religious authority the priest is even more salient and
influential, spreading variants during rituals and perhaps as a teacher to pupils. At the same time a
conservative many-to-one mode of transmission is at place in society, as the priest and most
members of society insist on the maintenance of traditional practices and beliefs. A summary of
the individual-level model of transmission modes is given in figure 6.1.
This is, of course, a very general model and changes in peculiarities of the system from
the Middle to the Late Bronze Age cannot be inferred from the archaeological record. We do
know, however, that there were changes in the northwest European networks. Throughout the
Middle Bronze Age and the Late Bronze there is an increase in the number of imported an
deposited bronzes in the southern Netherlands (Fontijn 2002, 213-5). Apparently the exchange
network had opened up to a greater number of people (cf. Fokkens 1997). As it were the political
and religious leaders that maintained long-distance contacts (with other priests and leaders) they
were the ones involved in the transmission of information on a supra-local level (Kristiansen &
Larsson 2005). These are also the individuals that have a one-to-many relation with the local
community. When innovations are accepted by a local community, for instance during a period of
social change or turbulence, variants spread fast through one-to-many relations. Faster than
through the vertical and horizontal relations existing amongst commoners and less influential
political leaders. So the routes of transmission are so constellated that - all things being equal new, exotic variants spread by priests and high status political leaders will out compete the
existing variants spread by commoners and less influential leaders. And as more and more people
entered the supra-local contact networks towards the Late Bronze Age the frequency of exotic
variants entering local populations will have been even higher.
So it appears that, like the life history of the transmitters, the existing transmission processes
would, all things being equal, promote the variant of the urnfield ritual over the barrow ritual.
That is, when this new variant is transmitted by highly influential priests and political leaders as
would be the case with exotic practices and beliefs. And I believe it is fair to assume that the
elements that make up the urnfield phenomenon are exotic variants.
In chapter 3 we noted that the burial rite changed in several ways from the Middle to the
Late Bronze Age (table 3.12). Most elements of the Late Bronze Age rite were already present in
the Middle Bronze Age, such as the cremation rite, barrow groups, ring ditches, urn burials, etc,
but they occurred far more often or even came to dominate in the urnfield rite. Also some new
elements appeared such as an elaborate repertoire of pottery types. These changes, however, do
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not seem to be gradual ones. It appears that they occurred rather sudden somewhere during the Ha
A period (see chapter 3) and had completed almost instantly: there are no indication that the
proportion of barrows with surrounding ditches increased throughout the Middle Bronze Age and
there are no urnfields where some barrows still have surrounding features other than ditches;
neither are there indications for the proportion of burials in small pits increasing throughout the
Middle Bronze Age and there are no urnfields where some barrows still have burials structures
other than small pits; there is no apparent gradual decrease in barrow size during the Middle
Bronze Age and barrows with a diameter over 10 m (the average size of Middle Bronze Age
barrows) are extremely rare at urnfields; after a period in which almost no barrows were
constructed there is a sudden increase in the amount of barrows constructed; barrow groups are
known from the Middle Bronze Age but these are still significantly smaller than the average
urnfield and there are no known examples of barrow groups that are continuously used from the
Middle Bronze Age to the Late Bronze Age (Gerritsen 2001, 152-7); there is no apparent
typological continuity between Middle and Late Bronze Age pottery types and there are no
Middle Bronze Age examples of pottery being used other than as urn; there is no gradual increase
in the number of burials with metals throughout the Middle Bronze Age. Only the rite of
cremation may have gradually increased in frequency throughout the Bronze Age, but this cannot
be ascertained (see paragraph 3.4). In the northern Netherlands there is an upsurge in inhumation
burials in the north-eastern Netherlands, though (Lohof 1994). Long barrows appeared for the
first time already before Ha A, but appear to have diversified suddenly during this period.
So, apparently most elements of the Late Bronze Age burial rite did not gradually change
throughout the Middle Bronze Age or even the Ha A period. What is more, the characteristics of
urnfields always occur together, never in isolation. For instance, there are no examples of isolated
Middle Bronze Age type barrows containing burials with urnfield pottery. Nor are there urnfields
consisting mainly of barrows with post circles or of large barrows. It seems that the elements
came about as a package. Just as one would expect if the burial rite would be an exotic
phenomenon. Was the burial rite to be a local development, one would expect an experimental
phase in which the elements changed gradually and occurred in differing compositions in
different communities. Rather the elements entered the southern Netherlands fully developed and
as a package, probably introduced from regions Rhine upwards where the same elements
appeared earlier and did developed gradually (Ruppel 1990; Desittere 1968; Müller-Karpe 1959).
Thus far we have established that the urnfield ritual consisted of a set of exotic variants and that
such exotic variants were to be promoted over the existing, local variants due to the life history of
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the carriers and the modes of transmission. Let us now look at the socio-cultural and ecological
effects on the individual-model. Were there any cultural or material constraints on the spread of
the phenomenon in our region?
In chapter 4 and 5 an overview was given of the values and beliefs expressed during the
urnfield ritual and of the nature of the value-system at large. We found that the value system of
the Bronze Age in the southern Netherlands was riddled with conflict, as becomes clear from the
system of selective deposition of bronzes. Values as martiality and belonging to a supra-regional
community were physically and ideologically kept apart from values like collectivity and
localism, by depositing the bronzes that expressed these values at different places. Exotic items
and weaponry were deposited at natural places. The sense of collectivity and localism found
expression at urnfields, where almost the entire community was buried in an uniform manner
with only local items.
For Middle Bronze Age barrows it had long been assumed that the burial rite was less
egalitarian. The barrows were supposed to be 'family barrows' built near farm houses and used for
the burial of the there residing family head and his (male) relatives (Fokkens 2003). However, it
has been shown that the idea of a family barrow for the head of a family is hard to maintain as
barrows were only rarely erected near a farm house and most of the time contain to few
interments to be the burial ground of a family (Bourgeois & Fontijn 2008). Neither do sex, age or
status appear to have been criteria for the selection of individuals for primary or secondary burial
(see paragraph 5.3). In both primary and secondary burials individuals of all sexes and age groups
can be found without any obvious indication of social status - apparently a representation of a
community. So like the urnfield, the barrow seems to be a representation of the collective, albeit a
symbolic one.
The conceptual and spatial relation between a community and the burial ground is,
however, less clear for barrows than for urnfields. As urnfields are fixed burial grounds that
contain the deceased of a group of people the size of a local community, it is general assumed
that the urnfield symbolizes this local community and is located as a marker on the territory of the
community (Gerritsen 2001). For Middle Bronze Age barrows it is unknown to which kind of
communities they belonged and how they spatially related to the locality of communities. What is
clear, is that through time barrows were increasingly more often erected near older barrows, so
apparently the presence of older barrows were important in the location of new barrows (Fontijn
& Bourgeois 2008).
This is in line with the general attitude Middle Bronze Age B people towards the land.
The repeated use of the same unaltered places for bronze deposition, the building of new barrows
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near old ones, the increasing reuse of these barrows for secondary burials, the traditionality and
regularity in house building, and the fencing of the area around farmyards indicate that the
interaction with the Middle Bronze Age B landscape was characterized by regularity,
traditionality and structuring. So like that of the urnfield barrow, the placement of the Middle
Bronze Age barrow was more preset than often thought.
In earlier models the genesis of urnfields is often explained as the result of a cultural
preference for the new ritual, because of a growing need to express individuality (Fokkens 1997)
or collectivity (Gerritsen 2001). In paragraph 5.3 it was explained that there are no indications for
either a growing sense of individuality or collectivity during the Middle Bronze Age. Rather it
appears that there were no significant changes in either the value-system or the beliefs behind the
different rituals: there were no cultural constraints on excepting the urnfield phenomenon.
Already in the Middle Bronze Age B burial grounds were part of a structured landscape and were
a symbolic representation of a community. The new burial rite arriving at the start of the Late
Bronze Age was completely in line with the already existing practices and believes: they were
spatially fixed burial places that functioned as symbol of a local community. And most of the
practices, such as the building of barrows, digging of ring ditches and cremating the deceased
were already well-known. So, although specific notions may have changed from the Middle
Bronze Age to the Late Bronze Age, such as the kind of community represented by the burial
ground, the general beliefs of barrow cemeteries being the burial ground of a community in
specific part of the structured landscape remained unchanged. It is therefore that the new variants
could be easily excepted, even though rituals are in general conservative.
It is not only the value system, however, that can encourage or discourage change. People
do not change or maintain beliefs and behaviour at random, but on the basis of expected or
perceived consequences of behaviour in a particular natural environment. These environments are
unstable and thus provide the external stimuli for change. In chapter 5 it was explained, however,
that there are no apparent changes occurring in the material and ecological conditions from the
Middle to the Late Bronze Age. It is therefore unlikely that material constraints have influenced
the evolution of the burial rite.
By now we have drawn up an individual-level model of the process of culture change in which
life history and social constraints are the main forces of change, while cultural and material
constraints are deemed unimprtant. On the basis of the assessment of the nature of the cultural
variants under consideration and of the socio-cultural context I made several assumptions, which
I will now make explicit:
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
As the elements that make up the urnfield phenomenon do not appear to have evolved
gradually and always appear together as a package, we can consider this phenomenon a
qualitative rather than a quantitative variant. Meaning that it is a state rather than a
position on a continuum (Richerson & Boyd 1985, 75-6).

As the urnfield phenomenon is practiced considerably more often than the barrow ritual,
the cultural fitness of the former is considerably higher than that of the latter when the
variant is displayed by transmitters with equal weight.

Variants of burial rites are mainly acquired through vertical and/or oblique transmission
in pre-adult life and through horizontal transmission in horizontal life.

Amongst peers, political leaders (of an undefined nature) and religious functionaries (in
the form of priests) have more weight than other people, because of personal charisma
and authorative position. This is a first social constraint.

Political leaders and religious functionaries are more salient as they figure more often and
more prominently at funerals, resulting in a non-random selection of cultural parents.
This is a second social constraint.

As the changes in burial rite were abrupt rather than gradual the urnfield phenomenon is
an exotic variant coming from areas Rhine upwards, where burial practices developed
earlier and gradual. The exotic variant is introduced in local communities of the southern
Netherlands by political leaders and religious functionaries.

As there is no conclusive evidence for significant changes in either value-system,
material conditions or the values and beliefs expressed in the burial ritual from the
Middle Bronze Age B to Late Bronze Age, a content-based (or direct) bias on the basis of
primary or secondary values did not occur. Neither did cultural constraints exist.

In the case of institutional rituals, priests and most members of society will insist on the
maintenance of respected beliefs and practices. This conservatism is reinforced by the
nature of the media employed in rituals. A situation of social change or turbulence
therefore needs to be assumed for a change in rituals to take place. In the case of the
changes in burial rite under study these social changes need not have been disruptive and indeed there are no indications for disruptive social change - as the changes were
mainly transformations of practices rather than belief.

The population structure is characterized by a dynamic whole of overlapping and shifting
communities of different nature. This means that the burial community in broadest sense
(the buried and the mourners) does not overlap with the local community. The social
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structure therefore allows cultural variants to spread gradually through the entire
community, and not from pocket (Kulturkammer) to pocket.
We are now ready to implement this individual-level model in a population and scale it up over
time. However, before we do this I first want to discuss several alternative models.
6.3 Alternative Models
In the previous chapters the earlier models of the genesis of urnfields formulated by Fokkens
(1997), Roymans and Kortlang (1999) and Gerritsen (2001) were discussed at several occasions.
It has been shown that these models are not valid, as new evidence proves assumptions on social
and ecological context untenable (chapter 1.2 & 5.4). Nonetheless, it is interesting to test the
theoretical plausibility of the models. In order to do this we must first reformulate them in
Darwinian terms. The models can be subdivided in two types.
Content-based bias models
The first group of models contains those that explain cultural evolution mainly as the result of
content-based (or direct) bias. These are the models of Fokkens (1997) and Gerritsen (2001).
According to them the selection of ideas and beliefs was based on the cultural values individuals
held. Fokkens suggested that the genesis of the urnfields was a logical outcome of a process of
individualisation that must have started at the end of the Middle Bronze Age, as indicated by
evidence on settlements, bronze exchange and burial ritual. To formulate this in evolutionary
terms, there existed a preference based on secondary values for variants that stress the importance
of the individual. Gerritsen, on the other hand, suggests a preference for variants that express the
importance of the community, as there was a growing need to express collectivity. In both
models, ideas or assumptions on life history, modes of transmission, social constraints and
population structure are not made explicit.
Group selection models
Roymans and Kortlang (1999, 36-42) have put forward the hypothesis that changes witnessed in
burial rites are the result of the way society coped with problems resulting from continued
demographic expansion and growing pressure on land. In a period in which the control over land,
rather than over labour, was vital to the reproduction of local domestic groups, urnfields
functioned as territorial markers. In this model the human behaviour is explained in terms of
group-level function. It is a functionalist argument that explains the existence of the burial rite by
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showing that it contributes to the welfare of the group. Like most functionalists, Kortlang and
Roymans do no explain the mechanisms for generating and maintaining the adaptation, but
phrases like 'the reproduction of the local group' (Roymans & Kortlang, 1999, 40) suggest that as in most functional explanations - cultural group selection is considered the main mechanism.
The general reasoning is that groups that do not posses the functional behaviour become extinct,
leaving the groups that do posses the behaviour as survivors.
6.4 Testing Models
We now have three types of models for culture change: a model in which natural selection and
social constraints are the main force of cultural evolution; models in which content-based bias is
the main force of change; and the group-selectionist or functionalist models. Up till now the
presumed processes that led to the genesis of urnfields have been worked out intuitively and
verbally.
To see whether any of these models have validity we need to formulate them
mathematically, so that we can see what the effects of the assumed forces of evolution are when
they are embedded in a population and extended over multiple generations. The patterns resulting
from these models can then be compared to the patterns observed in the archaeological record of
the southern Netherlands. These patterns were described in chapter 3. I explained there that due to
the rather coarse chronological resolution it is impossible to determine the frequency of cultural
variants for a period shorter than 150-200 years. It was established, though, that the cultural
variant that is the urnfield phenomenon came to dominate during Ha A, that is in a period of 200
years. So what we need is a model of cultural evolution that allows for culture change to happen
in such a short period.
Let us start with examining the theoretical probability of the group-selectionist model of
Roymans and Kortlang. In chapter 2 it was explained that group adaptation is not in line with the
methodological individualism maintained by evolutionary biologists, i.e. the view that largerscale entities merge from interactions between individuals (Shennan 2002, 212). Evolutionary
biologists explain that humans are self-interested organisms that should adopt only beneficial
behaviour and beliefs, and that those individuals that do not so would loose out to individuals
who prioritize their own reproductive success. Group selection can counteract this process only
when groups are very small and migration among group is very limited. Also, group extinction
does not occur often enough for group selection to eliminate deleterious practices (Shennan 2002,
28-9; Soltis et al. 2005, 204-6).
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Cultural variation can, however, be more prone to group selection than genetic variation.
Group selection can be an important force when differences among groups are maintained. Such
different equilibria can be obtained through biased transmission, for instance when it has
advantages for the individual to obtain the common-type variant (for example, in the case of
punishment-enforced norms) or when individuals prefer to adopt the most common variant
(conformist bias). In these cases strong individual-level forces maintain differences among
groups, even when groups are very large. And unlike many genetic models, this form of group
selection does not need the extinction of groups by members dying, but only that members
disperse throughout the metapopulation (Soltis et al. 206-7). Mathematical models analyzed by
Boyd & Richerson (1985, chapter 7 & 8) show that group selection will indeed work when
certain criteria are met. So it appears that theoretically the model of Roymans and Kortlang does
have merits in the case of cultural evolution. What we need to know is the timeframe in which
group selection can give rise to a phenomenon like the urnfield burial rite.
Soltis et al. (2005) have used empirical, ethnographic data from Papua New Guinea and
Irian Jaya to underpin the assumptions of the group selectionist model. They explored the rate of
group extinction, the manner of group formation, and the effect of persistent cultural differences
on group growth and survival. The empirical data allowed them to estimate an upper bound on
the rate of adaptation that could result from group selection. They found that extinction rates per
generation of the studied groups ranged between 2 and 31 percent, which allowed them to
calculate the rate (or time) of culture change, t, for different initial and final fractions of the
favourable trait and different extinction rate, using
(1.1)
where e is the fraction of groups in which the deleterious variant is common and q is the fraction
of groups where the advantageous trait is common (Soltis et al. 2005, appendix A).
This showed that group selection is unlikely to lead to significant culture change in less
than 500 to 1000 years. More often it would have taken significantly longer (Soltis et al. 2005,
218-221). A timeframe which considerably exceeds that in which the urnfield phenomenon came
to be the most common burial practice in the southern Netherlands. It has to be noted, however,
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that this is just one model of group selection - competition among small, heterogeneous groups.
But this type seems to be most likely for the Dutch Bronze Age groups, compared to a situation
of, for instance, an encroaching cultural frontier (Soltis et al. 2005, 221). So I think it is safe to
say that the model of Roymans and Kortlang is untenable on both empirical - there is no evidence
for population pressure or significant territorial reorganisation at the start of the Late Bronze Age
(chapter 5.3) - and theoretical grounds.
The second group of models to be tested theoretically are those in which the main force of
cultural evolution is a direct bias; the models by Fokkens and Gerritsen. Although each scholar
defined the preference trait - the criteria by which the value of the variant under consideration is
determined by an individual - differently, the mathematical model for both models can be similar
as long as the urnfield phenomenon is the preferred trait.
Such a model has been analyzed by Richerson and Boyd (1985, 137-41) for the linear
evolution of qualitative variants. In this model for the distribution of a behavioural trait within a
population the trait can take on two states, c or d, of which c is the preferred trait (in our case the
urnfield phenomenon). We only want to assess the force of direct bias, so we suppose that all
cultural parents have equal weight (there are no social constraints). This is a simple case in which
the effect of a direct bias can be shown as follows
(2.1)
in which p and p' are the frequency of the preferred variant before and after transmission
respectively and B is the strength of the bias (Boyd & Richerson 1985, 138).
This model shows that each generation the bias moves the frequency of the variant in a
population by an increment, Bp(1 - p), from the initial frequency. So directly biased transmission
creates a force that increases the frequency of the culturally preferred variant. It is important to
note, however, that the increment that needs to be moved from the initial value by the bias, p(1 p), is the (binomial) variance for populations that consist of dichotomous characters. This means
that the magnitude of the force depends not only on the strength of the bias, but also on the
variance of the character in the population. In other words, if one variant is very common, the
direct bias would have little effect as most sets of parents would contain the same variant, while
the offspring needs to be exposed to different variants in order to express its preference.
Statistically put, this means that when the frequency of a trait approaches zero (or one), the
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increment to be moved by the variant, p(1 - p), approaches zero (Boyd & Richerson 1985, 138;
Bettinger 1991, 189).
Of course, this has implications for the validity of the models developed by Gerritsen and
Fokkens. In the case of a low initial frequency and/or a weak bias it takes several tens of
generations for a variant to increase to a high frequency (fig. 6.2). In chapter 3 we saw that the
urnfield phenomenon rose to a high frequency during Ha A in less than 200 years or about 10
generations. For this to happen when direct bias is the only force of change, either the bias has to
be very strong and/or the initial frequency has to be high. Neither Fokkens nor Gerritsen specify
these conditions. In chapter 5 I showed that there is no empirical evidence for either a growing
sense of individualism or collectivism at the end of the Middle Bronze Age and the Late Bronze
Age. Such evidence is only apparent for the Early Iron Age. This means that if the preferences
existed during earlier periods, they were likely to be still developing and therefore did not yet
provide a strong bias. A rather high initial influx is therefore needed in order to arrive at a large
frequency of the urnfield variant in less than 10 generations. So a direct bias alone is not enough
to explain the genesis of urnfields.
Fig. 6. 2 Time path of the frequency of a cultural variant favoured by directly biased transmission.
The initial frequency of the favoured variant is 0.1 and the bias parameter, B¸ is also 0.1. (Richerson
& Boyd, fig. 5.1).
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So this leaves us with the last model, in which natural selection and social constraints are the
main forces of cultural evolution. Earlier I developed an individual-level model of cultural
transmission for the variants of funerary rites, based on several assumptions on the nature of the
variants under consideration and the context in which they were transmitted. I will now embed
this model in a population and see what effects on the frequency of the variants are over several
generations.
I will start by discussing the effects of the social constraints. To do this I will start by
giving a simple 'recursion' - a rule that allows us to predict the frequency of a variant, q, in the
next generation, given the value of q in this generation - for haploid sexual organisms. In the case
of genetic transmission by haploid organism there are sets of two parents, each parent has the
same weight (1/2), and there are two variants (alleles). We denote the frequency of variant a after
transmission q'. For large populations (where cultural drift has no effect) the following recursion
can be formulated (Boyd & Richerson 1985, 62)
(3.1)
when mating occurs at random this becomes (Boyd & Richerson 1985, 62)
(3.2)
and after some algebra
(3.3)
q' = q
In the case of cultural transmission there are of course in most cases more than two parents and
the weight of these cultural parents might differ, for instance, because of the social role of the
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parent. Equation 3.1 can easily be adjusted to allow for this. For instance in the case of linear
transmission by three randomly selected cultural parents with a distinct weight, Ai, and two
variants, c and d, the formula for the frequency of c after transmission, p', becomes (Richerson &
Boyd 1985, 65)
(3.4)
In this formula the probability that a set of models with ccd is formed is labelled Prob(ccd) and so
on. The equation says that the probability that a randomly chosen individual in the population of
naive individuals holds variant c is equal to the product of probability that a particular cultural
"mating" results in c (for example, A1 + A2) and the probability that that particular mating occurs
(for example, Prob(ccd), summed over all possible matings. The probability of each set of
cultural parents with I (I = 0, ... , 3) models with variant c and 3 - I models with variant d is pI(1 p)3 - I.
To evaluate equation 3.4 the probability distribution of the sets of models needs to
specified. This results in (Boyd & Richerson 1985, 65)
(3.5)
and as A1 + A2 + A3 = 1, this can be simplified to
(3.6)
or
(3.7)
p' = p
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By using algebra these recursions can be formulated economical for sets consisting of n number
of models as
(3.8)
where
(3.9)
This equation defines the probability that a naive individual acquires cultural variant c given that
the n cultural parents form the particular set of values X1, ..., Xn. Here Xi is the numerical value
(for instance, c=1 and d=0) of the cultural variant of the ith model, in a particular set of models.
The importance of the ith parent in the transmission is defined as Ai.
For all varieties of n, that is for sets of models of all sizes, it can be shown that
transmission leaves the frequency of the different variants unchanged, as long as the models are
randomly selected and transmission is linear (Boyd & Richerson 1985, 67, box 3.1) - no matter
the weight of the different models. This is counter to the intuitively expected effects of social
constraints mentioned in the previous paragraphs, but only at first sight. It was expected that the
variants held by political leaders and priests would grow in frequency because: 1. these models
have more weight (it was explained that their personal charisma and authority makes them more
influential); 2. the models are more salient (it was explained that they perform more prominently
and more often at funerals). And these expected effects will indeed occur as long as the sets of
models are not formed at random, or "nonselectively" - and this was the case in the southern
Netherlands in the Bronze Age.
First of all, the probability that the ith model has cultural variant Xi, defined as Mi(xi), was
different for the Bronze Age population than in the evaluation of equation 3.8. In the evaluation
Mi(xi) had the following property:
(3.10)
Mi(1) = p
Mi(0) = 1 - p
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saying that the frequency of c amongst each of the models is the same as the frequency of c in the
population as a whole. This leads to the frequency of the variant being unchanged after
transmission. However, as some individuals are more salient than others in the Bronze Age
population they have a bigger chance of being selected as a model, with the result that the
selection of models is no longer random: the chance that a model with variant c is selected, u, is
larger than the frequency of the variant in the population, p. The property of Mi(xi) then becomes
(3.11)
Mi(1) = u
Mi(0) = 1 - u
with the result that frequency of the variant after transmission is now
(3.12)
p' = u
This means that the higher salience of priests and political leaders can lead to higher frequency of
a variant if the frequency of the variant in the population of salient models, p*, is characterized as
p* > 1 - p* and the weight of all models is kept equal (the inclusion of an individual in the set of
models does not depend on the social role of the individual).
Secondly, equation 3.10 does not hold when the frequency of a variant in a population of
individuals with a certain social role differs from the frequency of the variant in the metapopulation and the weight of the models with different roles differs. Something which we could
expect for the Bronze Age when the most influential models, the priest and travelling political
leaders, adopt exotic variants from a supra-regional community of priests and political leaders. In
this case, the probability that an influential model has cultural variant Xi does not depend on the
frequency of Xi in the meta-population of possible models, but the frequency of the variant in the
population of influential individuals, p*. This has the result that the weight of the models now
does influence the frequency of the variant after transmission, meaning that the frequency of the
variant can increase when p* > 1 - p* and the weight of the social role is high enough.
We can illustrate this by considering a case of two cultural parents with different social
roles, for instance a parent and a teacher, and a dichotomous cultural trait with two variants, again
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c and d. The frequency of c after transmission in the next generation, p", would be (Boyd &
Richerson 1985, 184)
(3.13)
where p* is the frequency of a variant in a population of teachers and p' is the frequency of a
variant in a population of parents.
Equation 3.13 can be evaluated as (Boyd & Richerson 1985, 184)
(3.14)
where A is the weight of parents. This equation can be simplified to (Boyd & Richerson 1985,
184)
(3.15)
This equation says that the frequency of the cultural variant c after transmission is the weighted
average of the frequencies of c among parents and teachers, where the weights are the relative
importances of parents and teachers in the transmission of the cultural trait under consideration
(Boyd & Richerson 1985, 184).
It has to be noted that in equation 3.13 the presence of a model with social role a is a
given. In contrast to what was said earlier, this means that the salience of individuals does not
have any effect on the probability that a model with variant c is selected, as the probability
depends only on p* or p'. However, the situation of equation 3.13 is probably to stylized (cf.
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Richerson & Boyd 1985, 186). When acquiring a variant of burial rites during the Bronze Age
different naive individuals will have been exposed to different numbers and kinds of cultural
parents. To allow for this in the model, we must assume that a given naive individual is only
exposed to a subset τj of all possible roles (Richerson & Boyd 1985, 186-9), with Prob(τj) being
the probability that a naive individual is exposed to subset τj. This probability depends, amongst
other things, on the salience of the individuals holding a certain social role. So in reality salience
of the models did have influence.
So mathematically it can be shown that social constraints in the form of the salience and
influence (weight) of models with a certain social role can result in a higher frequency of a
variant after transmission, if the weight of the models is high (enough) and the frequency of the
variant in the population of models, p* is characterized as p* > 1 - p*. But are these requirements
met? In chapter 5 a theoretical models was created in which the influential models in the Middle
and Late Bronze Age were the priests and the travelling political leaders. It was assumed that the
weight of these models was high - probably high enough to increase the frequency of a cultural
variant. The second condition, p* > 1 - p*, requires that there was a readiness amongst political
leaders and priests to adopt variants coming from central Europe - most of them should adopt the
urnfield variant when they were exposed to it in supra-local community of priests and political
leaders. Why would this be? Unfortunately, I am not able to give a conclusive answer on this
question. A few suggestions can be given, though.
Roymans (1991) has suggested that the exchange networks of which the political leaders
of the southern Netherlands were part can be characterized as a prestige good economy. In such
an economy the control over prestigious items and knowledge of rituals is politically significant
to establish and maintain power by elites. The elites of the southern Netherlands will in such a
network maintain a core-periphery relationship with the elites residing in the upper Rhine areas
and bring in exotic items and knowledge out of socio-political necessity. Although this is a
possible explanation, there are several problems with it. First of all, as I explained in paragraph
5.6, the exact nature and basis for authority in the southern Netherlands is unknown. Although it
is most probable that it were political leaders who were involved in the exchange of items and
knowledge, it is by no means certain that the exchanged prestige goods and knowledge were the
basis of their authority. Secondly, the prestigious nature of these exotic items and knowledge is
assumed, while in reality their ideological and social weight might be circumscribed (see
paragraph 5.3.3).
Another reason for the rapid adoption of exotic variants by priest and leaders could be
higher population densities Rhine upwards. In such a situation a unidirectional spread would be
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caused by a statistical effect of influential models residing down the Rhine receiving information
more often from models living in the upper parts of the Rhine than the other way around. If by
each transmission the chance of accepting the variants is similar, than the chance of people not
accepting a new variant would be smallest down the Rhine. Another possibility is that the higher
population densities motivated pioneers or that the larger communities compelled the smaller
ones in adopting practices through pressure or sway. Such a crucial role for demographic
differences has been proposed for the expansion of the Rhine-Suisse-France Group (Brun 1984;
1988). However, to see whether this was also the case in the spread of the urnfield phenomenon
to the southern Netherlands a detailed knowledge of the demographics of the Rhineland
communities needs to be created. Something which is outside the scope of this study.
In conclusion, it can be stated that for a high salience of priests and political leaders to be
a force of change during the Bronze Age we must assume that: 1. amongst priests and political
leaders the urnfield variant is readily adopted, leading quickly to p* > 1 - p*. For high influence
to be a force of change we must also assume that: 2. priests and political leaders have a high
enough weight. On theoretical grounds assumption 2 appears plausible (see chapter 5). A
validation of the first assumption is not possible within the bounds of this study, but is certainly
not impossible given the proper socio-cultural dynamics on a supra-regional scale and a
sufficiently high value for p*. If these requirements are met social constraints can be a force of
change that is strong enough to allow for the full adoption of a new burial rite within a period of
200 years, if the salience and weight of the priests and political leaders is high enough.
Social constraints were, however, not the only possible force of change highlighted in the
individual-level model. It was suspected that the life history of the carriers of the urnfield variant
might give the carriers a selective advantage, as the urnfield rite was executed 6 to 7 times more
often than the barrow rite. We can evaluate this mathematically by adding an episode of natural
selection to the simple recursions of linear transmission defined earlier. These recursions showed
that 'p = p when models are randomly selected. Now if we suppose that individuals characterized
by different cultural variants differ in the probability that they become cultural parents, we can
define the probability that an individual with variant c becomes a cultural parent Wc and that for
individuals with variant d Wd. To arrive at the frequency of variant c during one generation, p", as
a function of the frequency of c among parents of the previous generation, p, we can use the
simple formula (Boyd & Richerson 1985, 182)
(4.1)
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This recursion tells us that the change in frequency of c over one generation, ∆p = p" - p, is
positive for all values of p when Wc/Wd > 1. Meaning that the cultural variant with the highest
cultural fitness increases.
It must also be noted that ∆p is largest for p = 0,5 and approaches zero as p approaches
zero or one.3 So like with equation 2.1 of direct bias, the strength of the force depends on the
variability in the population. However, this dependency is not as strong as for the direct bias - as
the probability for carriers of the urnfield variant to become cultural parents is 6-7 times as high
as for the carriers of the barrow variant, the frequency of the urnfield variant can become
dominant in just a few generations, all other things being equal. With such a process we have a
situation of high initial influx needed for social constraints (or direct bias) to be a significant force
of culture change. With the effects of natural selection and social constraints combined we have a
model that can explain the genesis of the urnfield phenomenon within 200 years.
6.5 Conclusion
In this chapter we have created a model to explain the increasing frequency at the end of the
Middle Bronze Age of the cultural variant that is the urnfield phenomenon. On the basis of the
assessment of the socio-cultural context in the previous chapter an individual-level model was
created in which life history and social constraints were posed as the main forces of culture
change. Cultural and material constraints were deemed unimportant as there are no indications for
significant changes in value system or ecological conditions respectively. Cultural constraints in
the form of a direct bias or preference for the urnfield phenomenon were the main force of culture
change in earlier models created by Fokkens (1997) and Gerritsen (2001). In a model created by
Roymans and Kortlang (1999) changes in material conditions led to group selection processes in
which urnfields were beneficial to groups as territorial markers. These tree types of models were
evaluated by embedding the supposed forces of change mathematically in a population and
extend them over multiple generations.
The results of the mathematical models could be used to validate the intuitively expected
outcomes of the different models. For the models to be valid the supposed forces of change would
have been able to increase the frequency of the urnfield variant to a near maximum level in less
than 200 years - the pattern established in chapter 3. It was shown that if the main force was
3
This recursion can be modified to analyze the effects of holding a variant that changes the probability of
obtaining a certain social role in a set of n models (Boyd & Richerson 1985, 182-9). Here it is assumed,
however, that holding either the urnfield or the barrow variant does not changes ones chances for obtaining
a social role.
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group selection as the result of competition amongst small, culturally heterogeneous groups, it
would have taken at least 500 to 1000 years for the urnfield phenomenon to become dominant. A
direct bias in the form of a cultural preference could increase the frequency of the urnfield variant
in less than 10 generations, but only if the initial frequency of the variant is high enough. So
group selection and cultural preference alone are not enough to explain the rise of the urnfield
phenomenon.
In chapter 3 a theoretical model of the modes of transmission was created. This model
showed that social constraints existed in the form of priests and (far-travelling) political leaders
being more salient and influential. It was shown through several mathematical models that such
constraints can indeed lead to significant cultural change in less than 200 years, if the initial
frequency of the urnfield variant in the population of influential individuals is higher than the
frequency of the barrow variant and if the weight of these individuals is high enough. On
theoretical grounds it is likely that the latter requirement was met in the Bronze Age. Conclusive
empirical or theoretical evidence to suspect that the former requirement was met is lacking,
however. There is one force of change, though, that could create such a high initial influx: the
selective advantage of holding the urnfield phenomenon. As almost the entire community was
buried in an urnfield, while only a small selection was buried in a barrow, the urnfield ritual took
place significantly more often than the barrow ritual - 6 to 7 times as often. This means that the
carriers of the urnfield variant are significantly more likely to become a cultural parent than the
carriers of the barrow variant. This allows natural selection on cultural variants to be such a
potent force that the urnfield phenomenon can become dominant in just a few generations.
Combined with the effect of the social constraints (and perhaps a direct bias) this allows the
genesis of the urnfield phenomenon to take place in a period as short as the Ha A.
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7. Concluding Remarks: The Genesis of Urnfields
7.1 Introduction
This study set out with noting several problems with current explanations of the spread of the
urnfield phenomenon throughout Europe. Usually the changes in burial rituals taking place in the
Late Bronze Age are characterised as a marked reorientation in spiritual life in large parts of
Europe, where urnfields are thought to represent a new era of “cultural homogeneity” and
“uniformity of beliefs” across the continent. Indications that in several regions the changes in
burial rites were gradual and that the practices and beliefs of the funerary rituals differed between
places was reason, however, to reconsider current explanations of the genesis of urnfields. The
southern Netherlands was chosen as a case-study, because of the availability of many excavated
urnfields and 14C dates in this region and because the socio-cultural context is well-studied.
Several models of the genesis of urnfields were already created for the southern
Netherlands. There are, however, several practical and theoretical problems with these models,
such as a poor understanding of the material culture, traditions and beliefs of the Middle Bronze
Age B and Late Bronze Age and the focus on only a single element or aspect of the burial rite.
The main theoretical problem is the inability to get from short-term, individual-centred scenarios
to long-term, structural changes. To overcome this problem a different theoretical framework was
adopted in which long-term processes can be analyzed by using Darwinian, mathematical models
of culture change. Three research questions needed to be answered to find out when, how and,
most importantly, why the urnfield phenomenon was adopted in the Southern Netherlands.
The first question concerned when, where and in what form the elements of the urnfield
phenomenon were introduced in the Southern Netherlands. An inventory was made of graves
from the Middle Bronze Age B and Late Bronze Age. On the basis of this inventory a description
was given in chapter 3 of the material culture and traditions of these two periods. Contrary to
what was done in earlier models, changes in all aspects of the burial ritual were considered: burial
monuments, burial practices, ceramics and metals. It was found that, except for new pottery
types, all elements of the urnfield rite were already present in the Middle Bronze Age.
Nonetheless, twelve changes were noted in the frequency and dimensions of these elements (table
3.12). An important finding is that these changes were rather abrupt, contrary to what is generally
thought. There is no gradual change from the dimensions and frequencies characteristic for the
Middle Bronze Age barrow ritual to those characteristic for the Late Bronze Age urnfield ritual.
For instance, there is no gradual increase in the number of barrows with ring ditches or a gradual
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decrease in the size of barrows. Also, there are no examples of urnfields that contain elements in
both Middle Bronze Age and Late Bronze Age frequencies and dimensions. For instance, there
are no Late Bronze Age urnfields that contain both barrows with post circles and ring ditches. So
it appears that the changes in burial rites were instant and came about as a package, probably
introduced from areas Rhine upwards. As the first examples of urnfield burials date to the
beginning of Ha A and the last convincing examples of typical Middle Bronze Age barrow
burials date to the end of Ha A, the urnfield phenomenon must have become dominant in less
than 200 years.
The second question concerned the ideas and beliefs behind the different elements of the
urnfield phenomenon. In chapter 4 the kinds of personal and communal identities expressed at the
burial grounds were examined. To see how personal identities were constituted the meaning of
grave goods was traced by reconstructing the biography of the items. Fontijn (2002) had
previously noted that the simple metals from urnfields display a local identity. Pottery seem to
express similar values. Although pots vary in quality and type, a very few even being of a distinct
supra-regional style, people were generally interred in or with vessels of a local style, signalling
no apparent major distinctions in social role or status - differences are expressed in a local,
egalitarian idiom. Similar concerns become apparent in the lay-out and monument forms of
urnfields. Two types of barrows were constructed at the burial grounds: long barrows and round
barrows of different sizes. It does not appear that the kind of objects deposited in the two kind of
monuments are different, given no indication for major differences in the kinds of person being
buried in them. This concurs with the uniformity in the lay-out of urnfields: within an urnfield
most monuments are of similar dimensions, have a similar orientation and are part of a
continuous conglomerate. So, like the personal identities, the external appearance of urnfields
appears to be characterized by similarity and equality. The collective rather than the individual
seems to be stressed at urnfields.
The third question concerned the nature of the wider social, cultural and ecological
context and the changes therein. This context has been extensively studied the last decade by
several scholars, but the results of these studies were never incorporated in a model of the genesis
of urnfields. They were therefore summarized and assessed in chapter 5 to create the building
blocks needed for generating a Darwinian model of culture change. These building blocks are a
model of life history, cultural constraints, social constraints, material constraints, transmission
processes and the population structure of a society. The most important findings were that there
were no radical changes in the value system and ecological conditions from the Middle to Late
Bronze Age. Cultural and material constraints are therefore unlikely to have been a significant
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force of culture change. A theoretical model was created of the modes of transmission of the
cultural variants behind burial practices. In this model the variants were obtained by an individual
through vertical and/or oblique transmission by parents and elders in pre-adult life and through
horizontal transmission by peers in horizontal life. The group of peers consists of commoners,
political leaders and priests. Amongst these peers, political leaders (of an undefined nature) and
religious functionaries are the most influential and salient. Priests and political leaders, which are
part of a supra-regional community, are likely to be the ones that introduced the exotic variants in
the southern Netherlands.
By answering the three research questions I was able to create a Darwinian model of
culture change that could be checked against the patterns of culture change observed in the
archaeological record.
7.2 A Model of Culture Change
On the basis of the analyses of the socio-cultural context and the nature of the urnfield
phenomenon an individual-level model could be created of the transmission of cultural variants
related to burial rituals. In this model the main forces of change were expected to be social
constraints in the form of a higher salience and influence of a small group consisting of priests
and the most powerful political leaders. Another force are the differences in life history of the
carriers of the urnfield variant and the carriers of the barrow ritual variant, giving the former a
significant advantage in terms of natural selection as they perform the ritual more often and
therefore act more often as a model. Cultural preferences and material constraints were deemed
unimportant as there is no evidence for either of them. Cultural preferences - which in
evolutionary terms can be called a direct or content-based bias - were, however, the main forces
of change in the models of Fokkens (1997) and Gerritsen (2001). Material conditions were
considered the cause for change in the group selectionist model of Roymans and Kortlang (1999).
The theoretical validity of all three kinds of models was assessed in chapter 6 by
embedding the forces of change in a population and extend their effects mathematically over
more than one generation. If this is done for the group selection model it becomes clear that
culture change as the result of competition among small heterogeneous groups is unlikely to have
been the main cause for the adoption of the urnfield burial rite. Although group selection can
indeed be a force of cultural change, it takes at least 500 to 1000 years for a cultural variant to
rise to high frequency as the result of this process. Similarly, a direct bias cannot have led to the
dominance of the urnfield rite in less than 10 generations, unless a different process had caused a
147
high enough initial frequency. So, the earlier models in which either group selection or cultural
preferences were considered the single forces of change appear to be theoretically invalid.
This leaves us with social constraints and natural selection as forces of culture change.
Two types of social constraints were discerned: the higher salience of priests and most important
political leaders and the stronger influence of these persons compared to peers. Both kinds of
social constraint can be potent forces of change, but only under the following conditions: the
weight of the religious and political leaders need to be high enough and the initial frequency of
the urnfield variant in the population of leaders has to be higher than that of the barrow variant.
Although it is certainly not implausible that these requirements were met in the Bronze Age, there
are no empirical or theoretical arguments to suggest they were. And nor need they have been, as
natural selection alone provides a potent enough force of change. As the urnfield phenomenon
was practiced 6 to 7 times more often than the Middle Bronze Age barrow ritual, the chances of
the carriers of the urnfield variant to become a cultural parent are equally as high. As a result the
urnfield variant can increase to a high frequency in just a few generations. Only when the
frequency moves toward maximum will this process slow down, but then other forces, such as
social constraints and direct bias, can contribute.
7.3 Epilogue
The finding that natural selection was the main force of culture change may perhaps be
counterintuitive for most archaeologists, as we tend to assign much weight to socio-cultural
explanations. However, this is an outcome in line with my intentions. This thesis was not
intended as only a study of the genesis of urnfields, but also as an experiment. First of all,
research in the last two decades in the Netherlands can be characterised mainly by a focus on the
local and short-term, with socio-ideology as important subject. The studies of Gerritsen (2001)
and Fontijn (2002) are good examples of this. Although the long term is certainly not forgotten in
these studies, it is not the main focus and when chronological patterns are discussed it is mainly
as a series of synchronical snapshots. So in this study I wanted to assess the value of these studies
for analyses of long-term processes. Secondly, I wanted to find a theoretical framework that
allowed archaeologists to analyse long-term processes without having to rely on intuition and
verbal reasoning. The mathematics of Darwinian models of culture change provided a means to
do this. To create such models a proper understanding of social and cultural context is needed,
however, which instantly gave me the opportunity to assess value of the previous mentioned
studies of the local and short-term, which have just these contexts as their subject.
148
In this regard the study has generated several useful results. Most importantly, it has been
shown that mathematics can significantly aid our understandings, as long as our models are based
on a proper understanding of how culture changes. Many archaeologists hesitate to use
mathematical models, because they remind us of the often faulty systemic models of the New
Archaeology (see for instance Johnson 1999 for an overview of the critiques on systemsthinking). In these models culture change is always the result of group adaptation, while the postprocessual critique has taught us that change originates with the individual (see chapter 2). A
mathematical model therefore has to start with such methodological individualism. When it does,
it can provide invaluable insights on long-term processes that are simply to complex to work out
intuitively. Insights that might seem counterintuitive, as in our case of the genesis of urnfields.
The use of Darwinian models has also showed that the contextual studies done in the
Netherlands the last two decades are indeed invaluable. They provide us with a needed
understanding of the socio-ideological context. However, they do appear to be a bit one-sided.
Because of a focus on socio-ideology, a developed politics and demographic is lacking. This is in
fact a critique on post-processual studies in general (see chapter 2). When it comes to an
understanding of socio-political structures we therefore still have to resort to prestige-good
models and world system theories, as interpretative archaeologists are eager to critique these
models, but reluctant to come up with a new one.
So as an experiment I consider this study successful. As an answer to the main research
question - why was the urnfield phenomenon adopted in the southern Netherlands? - there are
points of improvement, as is to be expected for an experimental study of a subject as complex as
the genesis of urnfields. In this thesis the model of the socio-cultural structure and the used
equations were purposely kept simple and stylized, in order to get a clear idea of the effects of
just a small set of significant variables. However, in order to easily test and improve the models
and equations presented in this study I have tried to make most assumptions explicit. Obvious
points of improvement are the model of routes of transmission, the dynamics between supraregional and local communities, and the relations between individuals with different social roles
in the process of cultural transmission. Subjects that deserve to be studied in their own right.
149
150
Summary
At the end of the Middle Bronze Age significant changes occur in the burial rite throughout
north-western Europe: the rite of burial in solitary barrows gives way to extensive cemeteries
called urnfields. This change is usually characterised as a marked reorientation in spiritual life,
thought to represent a new era of “spiritual revolution” and “uniformity of beliefs” across the
continent. Indications that in several regions the changes in burial rites were gradual and that the
practices and beliefs of the funerary rituals differed between places, is reason, however, for a
reconsideration of current explanations of the genesis of urnfields. To do this the southern
Netherlands is chosen as a case-study for this thesis, because of the availability of many
excavated urnfields and 14C dates from this region and its well-studied socio-cultural context.
Models have been put forward to explain changes in burial ritual in this region, but a serious
theoretical problem is their inability to get from short-term, individual-centred scenarios to longterm, structural changes. To overcome this problem a different theoretical framework was
adopted in this study, in which long-term processes can be analyzed by Darwinian, mathematical
models of culture change. Three research questions needed to be answered to find out when, how
and, most importantly, why the urnfield phenomenon was adopted in the Southern Netherlands.
The first question concerned when, where and in what form the elements of the urnfield
phenomenon were introduced in the Southern Netherlands. An inventory was made of graves
from the Middle Bronze Age B and Late Bronze Age. On the basis of this inventory a description
was given of the material culture and traditions of these two periods. Contrary to what was done
in earlier models, changes in all aspects of the burial ritual were considered: burial monuments,
burial practices, ceramics and metals. It was found that, except for new pottery types, all elements
of the urnfield rite were already present in the Middle Bronze Age. Nonetheless, several major
changes were noted in the frequency and dimensions of these elements. An important finding is
that these changes were rather abrupt, contrary to what is generally thought. Also the changes
came about as a package, probably introduced from areas Rhine upwards. As the first examples
of urnfield burials date to the beginning of Ha A and the last convincing examples of typical
Middle Bronze Age barrow burials date to the end of Ha A, the urnfield phenomenon must have
become dominant in less than 200 years.
The second question concerned the ideas and beliefs behind the different elements of the
urnfield phenomenon. The kinds of personal and communal identities expressed at the burial
grounds were examined. To see how personal identities were constituted the meaning of grave
151
goods were traced by reconstructing the biography of the items. It appears that both metals and
ceramic vessels were of a local style, signalling no apparent major distinctions in social role or
status - differences are expressed in a local, egalitarian idiom. Similar concerns become apparent
in the lay-out and monument forms of urnfields. Two types of barrows were constructed at the
burial grounds: long barrows and round barrows of different sizes. It does not appear that the kind
of objects deposited in the two kind of monuments are different, given no indication for major
differences in the kinds of person being buried in them. This concurs with the uniformity in the
lay-out of urnfields: within an urnfield most monuments are of similar dimensions, have a similar
orientation and are part of a continuous conglomerate. So, like the personal identities, the external
appearance of urnfields appears to be characterized by similarity and equality. The collective
rather than the individual seems to be stressed at urnfields.
The third question concerned the nature of the wider social, cultural and ecological
context and the changes therein. This context has been extensively studied the last decade by
several scholars, but the results of these studies were never incorporated in a model of the genesis
of urnfields. They were therefore summarized and assessed to create the building blocks needed
for generating a Darwinian model of culture change. These building blocks are a model of life
history, cultural constraints, social constraints, material constraints, transmission processes and
the population structure of a society. The most important findings were that there were no radical
changes in the value system and ecological conditions from the Middle to Late Bronze Age.
Cultural and material constraints are therefore unlikely to have been a significant force of culture
change. A theoretical model was created of the modes of transmission of the cultural variants
behind burial practices. In this model the variants were obtained by an individual through vertical
and/or oblique transmission by parents and elders in pre-adult life and through horizontal
transmission by peers in horizontal life. The group of peers consists of commoners, political
leaders and priests. Amongst these peers, political leaders (of an undefined nature) and religious
functionaries are the most influential and salient. Priests and political leaders, which are part of a
supra-regional community, are likely to be the ones that introduced the exotic variants in the
southern Netherlands.
By answering the three research questions a Darwinian model of culture change could be
created, which was checked against the patterns of culture change observed in the archaeological
record. In this model the main forces of change were expected to be social constraints in the form
of a higher salience and influence of a small group consisting of priests and the most powerful
political leaders. Another force are the differences in life history of the carriers of the urnfield
variant and the carriers of the barrow ritual variant, giving the former a significant advantage in
152
terms of natural selection as they perform the ritual more often and therefore act more often as a
model. The theoretical validity of this model was assessed by embedding the forces of change in
a population and extend their effects mathematically over more than one generation. It was found
that social constraint can be potent forces of change, but only under the following conditions: the
weight of the religious and political leaders need to be high enough and the initial frequency of
the urnfield variant in the population of leaders has to be higher than that of the barrow variant.
Although it is certainly not implausible that these requirements were met in the Bronze Age, there
are no empirical or theoretical arguments to suggest they were. And nor need they have been, as
natural selection alone provides a potent enough force of change. As the urnfield phenomenon
was practiced 6 to 7 times more often than the Middle Bronze Age barrow ritual, the chances of
the carriers of the urnfield variant to become a cultural parent are equally as high. As a result the
urnfield variant can increase to a high frequency within 200 years – the period of time in which
urnfields became dominant. Mathematics shows that the forces of change suggested in earlier
models, like group selection or cultural preference, require too much time, unless other forces are
at work simultaneously.
153
154
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170
Figures
1.3
General map of the Meuse-Demer-Scheldt region, indicating national
7
and provincial borders, rivers and streams (Gerritsen 2001, fig. 2.1)
1.4
Chronological terminology of north-west European regions in use for
13
the period under study (Fontijn 2002, fig. 1.4)
3.4
Examples of stylistic pottery elements characteristic for the Late
42
Bronze Age (After Desittere 1968).
3.5
Post circle types defined by W. Glasbergen. (Theunissen 1999, afb. 3.8)
48
3.6
Overview of unusually shaped Middle Bronze Age B barrows.
52
3.2
Overview of Middle Bronze Age B pottery.
64
5.2
Reconstruction drawing of Middle Bronze Age farmhouse. (Schinkel
90
1998, fig. 22)
6.3
Assumed life cycle of transmission
121
6.4
Time path of the frequency of a cultural variant favoured by
131
directly biased transmission.
171
172
Tables
2.3
Different routes of cultural transmission and their suggested
20
implications in terms of cultural uniformity and speed of
change (Shennan 2002, fig. 4)
2.4
A list of cultural evolutionary forces (Richerson & Boyd 2005, table 3.1)
23
3. 3
Overview of stylistic pottery elements characteristic for the Late Bronze
38
Age
3.4
All Middle Bronze Age B barrows
49
3.11
List of urnfields with indications of Late Bronze Age activities
53
3.12
Number of inventoried examples per site type
54
3.13
Number of long barrows per type
55
3.14
Variation of cremation burials from the Early and Middle Bronze Age.
57
(After Theunissen 1999, table 3.9)
3.15
Count of burial types for Late Bronze Age burials
58
3.16
Burial type per horizontal position in Late Bronze Age barrows
60
3.17
Weight, sex and age of cremated inidviduals found in Late Bronze
61
Age burials
3.18
Ceramic vessels that could be dated to the Middle Bronze Age B
63
3.19
Location of ceramics in Late Bronze Age burials
66
173
3.20
Overview of changes in burial ritual occurring from the Middle
72
to Late Bronze Age
4.8
Decisive steps in the life-path of ceramics: archaeological correlates
78
(After Fontijn 2002, table 3.2)
4.9
Number of Late Bronze Age items per material category
79
4.10
Number of vessels of certain quality per grave type for the Late
80
Bronze Age (1050-800 BC)
4.11
Urn types per grave type for the period 1050-800 BC
82
4.12
Count of vessel types per location for the Late Bronze Age
84
(1050-800 BC)
4.13
Number of vessels of certain quality per grave type for the Late
86
Bronze Age (1050-800 BC)
4.14
Number of ceramic vessels of certain type per grave type for the
87
Late Bronze Age (1050-800 BC)
6.5
Time path of the frequency of a cultural variant favoured by
131
directly biased transmission.
174