Extract :
Preface
THIS BOOK IS A REVISED VERSION of my Ph.D. dissertation, submitted in 2003 to the University of Michigan Department of Anthropology (Fogelin 2003c). Most of the revisions have consisted of removing extraneous information unrelated to the specific goals of this book, but I have also expanded some portions of the original, particularly those dealing with the method and theory of the archaeology of religion.
The original dissertation had several appendices containing the data that I had collected during fieldwork—summaries of my site forms, field maps, ceramic drawings, and ceramic measurements. I have chosen not to reproduce them here because of space limitations. The primary data and more extensive discussions of the specific material remains can be found in the original dissertation, I am also happy to provide all of this information in a digital format to any legitimate resarcher.
All of the archaeological materials collected during survey were given to the Andhra Pradesh Department of Archaeology and Museums for long-term curation. The department has stored all of the archaeological materials collected during fieldwork in its warehouse in Visakhapatnam, Andhra Pradesh. No archaeological remains were removed from India or Andhra Pradesh at any time.
Small portions of this book were adapted from recent and forthcoming publications (Fogelin 2003a, 2003h, 2004, and in press a) to suit the particular needs of this book. Most excerpts are only a few paragraphs long. In some cases, I have incorporated a few pages.
Introduction: Archaeology and Early Buddhism
ARCHAEOLOGISTS HAVE A LONG, problematic relationship with religion. From the beginning of the discipline, many of the largest and most impressive archaeological remains have had obvious religious function and significance to people in the past. It is also clear that ancient religions often bore little resemblance to religions practiced today. At times, archaeological interpretations have been little more than fanciful reconstructions, with religious monuments serving as elaborate Rorschach tests for archaeologists carrying their own religious baggage. Thus, early researchers of the Maya saw a peaceful kingdom ruled by astronomer-priests in the jungles of southern Mexico (Morley 1946; Thompson 1950) and ignored evidence for bloodletting, warfare, and human sacrifice. Stonehenge has served as the foil for almost every interpretation of religion imaginable, ranging from human sacrifice to alien encounters. When dealing with the origins of world religions, particularly Christianity’, archaeologists have often worked to confirm that events in written scripture actually occurred (see Insoll 2001). This process was made all the easier by the assumption that these events had actually happened, so the only real purpose for archaeology was in finding where they had taken place.
As the discipline of archaeology developed, with a corresponding increase in the demands for rigorous archaeological interpretations and scientific reasoning, a new approach to the archaeology of religion emerged—avoidance. This approach was most articulately advocated by Christopher Hawkes in his “ladder of inference” (Hawkes 1954, 162):
If material techniques are easy to infer to, subsistence—economies fairly easy, communal organization harder, and spiritual life hardest of all, you have there a climax of four degrees in reasoning.
In essence, Hawkes’s position was that religion is a particularly unbounded, immaterial aspect of human life. Reconstructions of past religions could nor he anything but fanciful reconstructions and should therefore not he attempted in the first place. Archaeologists, he argued, should focus on what they were good at—the environment, economy, and other more materially grounded phenomena. This position was later taken up by Lewis Binford and other processual archaeologists (but see Fritz 1978; Renfrew 1985; and Marcus 1998 as some notable exceptions). While the rhetoric of Binford (1962) suggested that everything in the past was fair game for archaeological inquiry, in practice processual archaeologists focused on the interaction of people with their environment. Where religion was addressed, it was typically understood in simplistic terms, as regulating peoples’ interactions with the environment or serving to legitimize elite power.
All of this began to change in the 1980s with the development of postmodem archaeology (referred to within the discipline as post-processual archaeology. Among the central tenets of this movement was that previous research had overemphasized issues regarding subsistence, econony; and the environment. In contrast, post-processual archaeology was interested in more ideological issues, with religion among them. Despite this newfound interest, even some proponents of post-processual archaeology have recognized that specific methods for investigating religion were slow in developing (see Insoll 2004, 76—84). Post-processual archaeology expressed an interest in studying religion but, with some exceptions (see chapter 4), lacked the tools to fulfill it.
Over the last twenty years a number of new approaches to the archaeology of religion have developed. These can be roughly grouped into two categories. The first is an outgrowth of processual archaeology, taking seriously the idea that past religions could be investigated through the construction of interpretive methodologies for the identification of the material remains of religious practice. This approach has been most clearly articulated by Cohn Renfrew (1985, 1994), particularly in his studies of the sanctuary of Phylakopi on the Greek island of Melos. In this study Renfrew developed a list of specific material criteria to determine if a specific set of rooms were, or were not, a center of religious activity. He then compared the material remains found in the rooms with his criteria and determined that a religious or ritual explanation was most likely. Since this original srud}~ Renfrew and others have continued to develop and refine their methods within an overall approach they refer to as cognitive archaeology (see Renfrew and Zubrow 1994).
A second approach toward the archaeology of religion focuses on more theoretical issues regarding religion, arguing that a fundamental misunderstanding of what religion actually is has hobbled archaeological inquiry (see Insoll 2004). Research in this vein has focused on mining other disciplines (e.g., cultural anthropology, sociology, and religious studies) for more sophisticated understandings of religion, and examining their implications for archaeology. These new theoretical perspectives have ofren been applied to examinations of iconography, ethnohistory, and historical sources. I address the value of these perspectives in greater detail in chapter 4.
From my point of view, both recent approaches to the archaeology of religion have tremendous value and potential. The development of the archaeology of religion requires both a greater theoretical sophistication and more developed material sensibilities. I do not see this as a radical position. I have no doubt that almost all archaeologists interested in religion would agree. The two categories of research presented above do not translate into categories of archaeologists. Renfrew is interested in broader theoretical issues, just as Insoll attempts to develop archaeological methodologies. The difficulty for all concerned is bringing these two approaches together. In my own research I have found ritual to he an effective bridge between the materials I typically come across as an archaeologist and the broader theoretical concerns that orient my interest in religion.
An Outline of This Book
This book is intended to serve several audiences—each with its own interests and background knowledge. I expect that archaeologists who study South Asia will be particularly interested in the results of my fieldwork and the specific conclusions concerning Thotlakonda Monastery. Further, I want my discussions of Thotlakonda and the methods I employ to serve as a case study for the archaeological investigation of religion and ritual for archaeologists who work outside of South Asia. Finally, I hope this book will demonstrate the value of recent archaeological approaches for historians of South Asia and Buddhism. For this final group, this book is intended to illustrate how archaeology can be more effectively employed in a collaborative investigation of ancient Buddhism.
I have written this hook with these different audiences in mind. The chapters on South Asian history’ and Buddhism are written for those with little or no background in either. I provide more background on archaeological methods than most archaeologists would ever want to read. Discipline-specific jargon is avoided whenever possible, or clearly defined when unavoidable. Specialists in archaeology, South Asian history; and Buddhism are likely to find portions of sonic chapters overly simplistic. I ask that readers have patience in these sections. Many of the archaeologists have never heard the name Ashoka, just as some historians cannot tell the difference between an excavation unit and a hole in the ground. I am a committed convert to the cause of cross—disciplinary studies, I have gained tremendously from Buddhologisrs who patiently explained (and re-explained) the simplest concepts of Buddhist doctrine. For my part, I have tried to remain enthusiastic when asked to show how a small fragment of pottery can inform the study of past societies, Cross-disciplinary studies require a hit more background than discipline—specific studies, but the conclusions are strengthened by the collaboration.
Given the disparate sources employed, the arguments presented in this hook often combine information from widely separated chapters. Ideas and arguments from earlier chapters are only’ completed in later chapters when other lines of evidence are considered, Throughout the text I indicate in what chapter, and in what way, particular points will reappear. Chapters 2 and 3 review the existing scholarship on South Asian history and Buddhism, respectively. In chapter 4, I examine the theoretical and methodological approaches employed in my archaeological analyses of religion and ritual. Chapters 5 and 6 present die archaeological background to north coastal Andht-a Pradesh in general and Thothakonda Monastery specifically. Chapters 7 and 8 synthesize the information from the preceding chapters to address the specific social context and underlying social tensions of Thotlakonda Monasterw I conclude the book with a discussion of the implications of this research on current understandings of Early Buddhism and the archaeological investigation of religion.
In the end, the picture of broader social relations developed for Thotlakonda Monastery is messier than typical depictions of early Buddhist monasticism. My interpretation more closely resembles the practice of modern Buddhist monasteries, with all of their conflicting roles and idiosyncrasies. By moving investigations beyond the monastery walls, my analyses emphasize the tensions, conflicts, and complex ritual relationships between the monks at Thotlakonda and the lay Buddhists who engaged, both economically and spiritually, with them. Rather than the idealized monastery of Buddhist literature, my analyses focus instead on the practice of Buddhist monasticism, with all of its inconsistencies and tensions intact. |
