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A boy buried 24,000 years ago proves the two
species did interbreed, writes Paul Pettitt
The relationship between modern
humans and Neanderthals has been
the subject of vigorous debate for
many years. Did the two species inter-breed? Did they come into contact at all,
during the tens of thousands of years of
their co-existence on Earth? (See BA,
March, and Letters, May.)
In 1996, DNA from the original Neander valley Neanderthal remains was
extracted and analysed. This work demonstrated that there were at least 500,000
years of evolutionary divergence between
our own species and the c 40,000 year old
Neanderthal in question, diminishing the
likelihood that the two species intermixed.
Now, however, direct evidence has
come to light from Iberia, demonstrating
unequivocally that contact took place and
was probably quite extensive on the peninsula. The evidence was the discovery in
November last year of an Early Upper
Palaeolithic burial, over 24,000 years old,
at the Abrigo do Lagar Velho in central
western Portugal. The burial was of a
young boy who was part Neanderthal, part
modern human. His discovery has dramatically changed our perspective on Neanderthal extinction and the spread of our own
species across Europe.
The Ebro river, which runs NW-SE
across the neck of the Iberian peninsula, has
recently come to be seen by some researchers as a major environmental
boundary in the Upper Pleistocene. The
earliest anatomically modern human colonists - dating to c 40,000-30,000 years ago
- are only found north of the Ebro, while
Neanderthals persist as late as 29,000 years
ago to the south, represented by such sites
as Zafarraya in Andalucia, and Gorham's
Cave in Gibraltar. It is not until after
30,000 years ago that modern humans
penetrate south of the Ebro.
Why was this so? It may have been that
Neanderthals were ecologically adapted to
the temperate, wooded environments
south of the Ebro, and that there was no
pressure for modern humans to move further south until climatic conditions began
a downturn after 30,000 years ago. For up
to 10,000 years then, there may have been
distinct human species living on either side
of the river. Such `frontier' situations may
have obtained elsewhere too, such as along
the Danube in Romania. For a period
modern humans were confined to the
north bank of that river too, before eventually crossing south.
Five or six thousand years after these
frontier conditions obtained on the
Ebro, a young individual died. He
was probably male, died around the age of
four, and was buried under the Lagar Velho
rockshelter in a clearly cut grave. He has
been named, rather prosaically, Lagar
Velho 1. He was probably quite important
to his people, and was accorded special
attention in death. His skeleton is largely
complete, and was found associated with a
pierced periwinkle (littorina obtusata) shell
that he probably wore as a pendant. He was
covered with red ochre.
The edge of the shallow grave was lined
with stones and bones, which included the
remains of red deer coxyx placed by his
right arm, in addition to an articulated
vertebral column of a rabbit apparently
placed over his chest and upper arm.
These have been dated by Oxford University's radiocarbon accelerator unit to
c 24,000-25,000 years ago, within the
mid-Gravettian period.
The nature of the burial aligns it with
other Gravettian sites in Portugal such as
the Gruta do Caldeirao, where identical
pierced periwinkle shells have been found
(but no burials) dated to around 26,000
years ago. The use of red ochre - one
assumes to colour either the boy's clothing
or a burial shroud - also links Lagar Velho
1 with other Gravettian ceremonial burials
across Europe. These include the famous
(and male) `Red Lady' of Paviland from the
Gower Peninsula, Wales, dated to
26,000-27,000 years ago, the Brno II `Shaman' and the triple burial at Dolni
Vestonice from Moravia in the Czech
Republic, burials at Arene Candide and
Caviglione in Italy, and even the highly
elaborated burials at Sungir, Russia. All
date to the period between 27,000 and
22,000 years ago, and are characterised by
the use of red ochre, often elaborate personal ornamentation in the form of pierced
beads, shells and other paraphernalia, and
usually an association with large herbivore
remains placed in the grave cuttings.
Who these people were we will never
know, but as they were accorded rich
mortuary rites one might speculate that
they played important roles in their societies. They may perhaps have been shamans,
sorcerors or other high status clan members - or, in the new Portuguese case, the
children of such people.
Perhaps the Lagar Velho boy's features
marked him out as special from birth. A
study of his anatomical features by Erik
Trinkaus of Washington University has
yielded fascinating results which surpass
even the associated grave ritual in importance. Most of his cranium, mandible,
dentition and other skeletal bones survive -
and exhibit a mosaic of European early
anatomically modern human and Neanderthal features.
Some, such as the curvature of the long
bones, tooth size and proportions, and chin
morphology, align him with Homo sapiens
sapiens; others, such as body proportions,
muscular insertions, and longbone robusticity, connect him with Neanderthals. In
terms of body proportions he is `hyper-arctic' - his limbs are relatively short
compared to his abdomen, and his tibia is
relatively short in relation to his femur.
These proportions reflect an adaptation to
cold, dry environments that is characteristic
of European Neanderthals and is distinct
from the subtropical body proportions of
our own species.
Given the relatively temperate climatic conditions of the Iberian
peninsula at the time that Lagar
Velho 1 lived, one cannot explain his body
proportions as being an anatomically modern human adaptation to severe conditions.
In any case, one does not find such an
adaptation with humans living further
north in the same period. Rather, it has to
relate to gene flow between the two species. As Lagar Velho 1 died 5,000-6,000
years after Neanderthals appear to have
become extinct in the region, the survival
of a number of Neanderthal traits in an
otherwise `modern' human indicates that
there must have been a significant degree
of interbreeding between Iberian Neanderthals and the early anatomically modern
humans who first colonised the region.
Until now, the notion that Neanderthals
and anatomically modern humans came
into contact has been speculative only.
Certain tool assemblages dating from
around 40,000-30,000 years ago - the
Chatelperronian of France, Ulluzian of
Italy and others - appear to be technologically `transitional' between the Middle and
Upper Palaeolithic. Although it is unclear
which species of human made such assemblages, most opinion favours Neanderthals,
and the transitional aspects of the technology have been taken by some researchers
to imply contact and acculturation between the two species.
The Lagar Velho child resolves the issue
in that he constitutes smoking-gun evidence of significant contact, at least in the
Iberian peninsula. Presumably many opportunities for social and sexual intercourse
between the two species existed along the
Ebro frontier and the river valleys of northern Spain. Lagar Velho 1 demonstrates that
a simple model of absolute replacement of
archaic humans by moderns with little or
no interaction - a `blitzkrieg' - does not
hold for this region.
This is not to say the picture was the same
everywhere. The pattern of Neanderthal extinction and colonisation by moderns varies
considerably from region to region. In
some regions overlap appears to have been
very brief, in others up to 10,000 years. In
view of this it is extremely unlikely that the
process was identical throughout Eurasia;
in some regions it may have been abrupt,
in others prolonged. There is also no necessary connection between the biological
processes of Neanderthal extinction and
those behavioural changes which are reflected archaeologically in the Middle to
Upper Palaeolithic transition.
Lagar Velho 1 presents fascinating evidence of just one of the many possible ways
in which Neanderthals were replaced by
modern humans, and underlines the complexity of the Late Pleistocene emergence
of our own species.
Dr Paul Pettitt is a Senior Archaeologist at the
Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit and a research
fellow of Keble College at Oxford University
A paper on the Lagar Velho boy, The Early
Upper Palaeolithic human skeleton from
the Abrigo do Lagar Velho (Portugal) and
modern human emergence in Iberia, by
C Duarte, J Maurcio, P Pettitt, P Souto,
E Trinkaus, H Van Der Plicht and J Zilhao
(Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences USA) will be published later this year.
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Stonehenge was built to predict meteor showers, argues space
researcher Duncan Steel
When, in the 1960s,
Stonehenge was interpreted as an eclipse predictor by astronomers Gerald
Hawkins and Sir Fred Hoyle, and by
amateur enthusiast C.A. `Peter'
Newham, an outcry issued from the
archaeological community.
I can see why: the astronomical theories
rode roughshod over the evidence on and
under the ground. For example, they required that the four Station Stones were
part of the original development, whereas
these are clearly of a later phase. Archaeologists therefore had reason to be irked
because the evidence of their science was
being overlooked.
Nevertheless it is clear that a significant
fraction of their agitation was provoked by
what might be termed discipline-protection: resentment that outsiders should dare
to dabble in their bailiwick.
Possibly astronomy played no part in the
design and usage of megalithic monuments, although I think not. If astronomical matters were involved, then it behoves
us all to work together to try to find the real
reason for the huge effort which went into
the many henge developments of the era.
I have some expertise in the field of
small solar system bodies (meteors, asteroids and comets), and an interest in Stonehenge not only astronomical, but also
personal: presently I live in Australia, but I
was born in north-east Somerset, not so far
from Stonehenge.
I believe that Hoyle, Newham and
Hawkins were on the right lines, but that
their ideas of tracking the moon and the
sun apply only to the later phases of the
developments (broadly Stonehenge II and
III, after about 2500BC). Their interpretation was that Stonehenge was used to
foresee when eclipses were to occur for
ritual purposes. Actually I see the significance of charting the sun and the moon,
and predicting eclipses, as being more
closely tied up with refining a calendar rather than an end in itself.
However, that is not my subject
here.
My own interpretation of Stonehenge has more to do with meteor
showers. What I am suggesting is
that the very earliest developments at
Stonehenge - the Cursus and Stonehenge
I, dating from 3500-2800BC - were used
to predict when meteor showers were to
occur, those showers being of interest in
themselves, as opposed to mere tools to
determine the year.
Why would meteor showers -
the debris trails from comets -
be important to these people?
When the sun was formed 4.5 billion
years ago, it was about 30 per cent fainter
than it is now. Five billion years hence it is
expected to be twice as bright as now.
Elsewhere in the cosmos processes generally alter on similarly long timescales: if you
watched the Andromeda galaxy for a million years it would not change much.
This is not the case for comets and
meteors. Comet Hale-Bopp has made its
fleeting visit, not to be back for two millennia. Some other bright comet may soon
flash into view. The meteor shower emanating from Gemini, which occurs each
year around 13 December, was not observed before the 19th century, because at
that stage its orbit did not intersect with
that of the Earth. Today the Earth experiences about ten annual showers. Meteor
showers, however, come and go over epochs of centuries or millennia. That is, on
brief timescales, comparable to those of
discrete civilizations.
There is no reason to believe that
what people saw 5,000 years ago is
what we see now. The stars, the planets, the moon and the sun would all
look much the same as today, but not
the comets and meteors. And those
are the phenomena which often
worry people most. In 1833, for example, there was a mighty meteor
storm seen over the eastern parts of
North America. Many hid under their
beds whilst others fell to their knees,
interpreting it as the sign of the Second
Coming and the Apocalypse.
These meteors, the Leonids, are due
back on 17 November this year. They have
been seen every 33 years since AD902,
often literally scaring people to death.
But there is no reason to suspect that the
Leonid shower is the most extreme form of
meteoric shower which occurs. Astronomers see comets break asunder all the time,
spewing out great quantities of debris,
whereas the parent of the Leonids (comet
Tempel-Tuttle) is quite well-behaved.
There is a principle in natural science
which we should consider, that of catastrophism. The fundamental tenet of catastrophism is that infrequent major events
dominate the effects of plentiful smaller
events. For example, the dearth of great
trees in England's green and pleasant land
compared to 20 years back is the result of a
few discrete episodes - two hurricanes and
Dutch elm disease - rather than a large
number of smaller storms and minor arboreal afflictions.
This is the main thing which Charles
Darwin got wrong. Influenced by his geologist friend Charles Lyell, Darwin saw biological evolution as slow and gradual. In
recent decades evidence has accumulated
to sugest that this notion is incorrect: it is
unusual major events which dominate, not
the minor, gradual alterations. Darwin still
holds us back in this way, natural scientists
tacitly preferring a gradualistic explanation
rather than a catastrophic one. But when
you see a river valley, understand that most
often it has been spasmodic floods which
have shaped it, not the plodding flow which
is evident for 99 per cent of the time.
Similarly when I see an extraordinary
phenomenon like Stonehenge, I seek an
extraordinary explanation. It is simply not
the case that such an explanation is unlikely.
With various colleagues I have
developed a theory that the
current interglacial period (the
Holocene) is warmer than the long-term
norm as a result of a heightened influx of
cometary dust. There is much evidence for
this, including lunar rocks returned by the
Apollo astronauts which indicate that the
flux of dust near Earth has been much
elevated over the past ten millennia.
The source of this dust we believe is a
broken-up giant comet, which has
spawned a huge complex of material in
the inner solar system including numerous
asteroids, meteoroid streams, and one
comet, Encke, which is now active (that is,
it is liberating sufficient water vapour to
produce a bright cloud about itself).
Every so often the swivelling of the orbit
of the main stream of debris will bring it
around to intersect Earth's orbit, and then
you can expect fireworks. Our tracking of
the orbit indicates that great meteor storms
will then occur every few years in epochs
lasting for a few centuries. There will be
pairs of these epochs separated by 300-500
years, followed by a gap of about
2,500-3,000 years before the next pair
occurs. These timings fall out from the
celestial mechanics, involving some quite
complicated calculations.
In this scenario I can account for many
aspects of the early developments at Stonehenge, such as the orientations (the
approaching stream of material would appear in the sky near where the sun rises at
the summer solstice around 3200-3000BC,
but closer to due east half a millennium
earlier) and the dates (the Cursus in the
centuries after 3500BC, Stonehenge I following a few centuries later).
I am happy to play the devil's advocate,
and make further suggestions which many
will find outrageous. If we are to progress,
we need to consider all possibilities.
Take the numerous long barrows associated with Neolithic sites like Stonehenge.
Question: what do they look like from the
modern world? Answer: air-raid shelters.
Thus, hypothesis for debate: they were air-raid shelters.
What I mean is, imagine that every so
often the sky lit up with myriad shooting
stars, many large enough to cause percussions shaking the ground (this does
happen). You would be able to see the
comet-related trail of material approaching
in the sky. The long barrows were shelters in which to cower, safe from the
terrifying spectacle outside, just as some
modern humans hide their heads under
the pillow during a lightning storm. If
that were your need, what else could you
build on Salisbury Plain, given the local
materials?
The era of these meteor storms
would have been temporary, lasting
only through to about 2800BC.
Thereafter the interest in the sky was
transferred to charting the sun and the
moon. The long barrows obtained a
revised usage as burial sites, and other
barrow forms were developed disconnected from the original purpose.
But eventually the meteor showers
came back, with another set of intersections with the Earth starting
around 500 BC. Are there any similar
`air-raid shelters' dating from that time?
Well, yes. The Iron Age fogous (elaborate
souterrains with built-up walls capped with
flat slab roofs) of southern Britain, and in
particular western Cornwall, have long
been a mystery. The purpose usually ascribed to them - food storage - hardly
warrants the extreme care with which they
were constructed, compared to other
dwellings of the period.
Taking this further, how do you react
when a low-flying aircraft shakes your
windows? By shaking your fist at the sky?
Would not the Iron Age Britons have done
the same thing, metaphorically-speaking?
If the gods had come back again and again
to wreak havoc, one tactic (good for the
morale if nothing else) would have been
some fist-shaking, trying to scare off the
celestial apparition.
It seems that some of the great White
Horses cut in chalk hillsides date from this
era, and might be interpreted as a hostile
gesture towards the sky. Let me hypothesize that when the Cerne Abbas Giant is
properly dated, we will find that it originated in the last half millennium BC. The
message it was designed to convey to the
unwelcome visitors from above seems
unmistakable.
Dr Duncan Steel published his ideas about
Stonehenge in more detail in Natural Catastrophes During Bronze Age Civilizations
(BAR 728, 1998). He is the author of Rogue
Asteroids and Doomsday Comets (Wiley,
1995), and two books to be published later this
year: Eclipse (Headline) on the history and
astronomy of eclipses, and Marking Time
(Wiley) on the calendar.
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Gods were first invented in the Bronze Age, argues Mike Parker Pearson
What was the essence of prehistoric religion? How can we understand what people believed
about the afterlife in the time before written texts? Were prehistoric beliefs simply
`primitive' versions of modern religions
with notions of gods and goddesses?
Recently archaeologists have steered
clear of trying to answer these questions. It
is unfashionable to consider the nature of
ancient religious belief, and some would
even argue that it is impossible to make
inferences about ancient ideas from material remains alone.
Yet there is one way in which we can
explore past societies' beliefs about the
supernatural. It is by studying the way
they treated their dead. Philosophers have
described death as the `muse of religion' -
the eternal mystery at the core of religion
and philosophy. Since that earliest story of
the search for immortality, the Babylonian
Epic of Gilgamesh first written down around
4,000 years ago, the question of what
happens when we die has been at the heart
of religious writings.
Many archaeological remains, including
some of the most impressive, relate to the
treatment of the dead. They provide clues
about how past people understood their
finite lives in relation to their deaths or, in
other words, how they experienced life in
the face of death. By examining these
tombs, monuments and representations,
we can find clues to the state of people's
awareness of death and how it changed.
The earliest indication of the human
awareness of death, as evidenced by
the deliberate burial of dead bodies,
is from early modern human burials at
Qafzeh and Mugharet es-Skhul in the Near
East, from around 100,000 years ago. The
exciting recent find of 300,000-200,000-year-old bones of 32 proto-Neanderthals
in a deep cave at Atapuerca in Spain raises
the possibility that notions of death awareness and associated concepts of the self may
be much older than we have realized.
However, I shall concentrate here on
the last 10,000 years of our experience. It
is the period in which we have built monuments and in which the drive for achievement and permanence often appears to
have had religious motivations.
During the Pre-Pottery Neolithic A
period (c 10,000-9300BC) in the Near
East, the people of Jericho and other settlements buried their dead beneath the floors
of the houses in which they lived. Yet they
removed the skulls of dead adults and kept
them above ground, in caches within their
homes. In the subsequent Pre-Pottery
Neolithic B (PPNB) period, such skulls
were often plastered with a clay face and
given cowrie shells for eyes.
This material presencing of the dead
among the living was one aspect of a
society that seems to have been obsessed
with its dead ancestors. Settlements were
built and rebuilt on the same spot for
generations. As they grew into tell mounds,
each village consisted effectively of the
living perched on top of the accumulation
of clay from houses of the dead. Each tell
was a visible marker of a community's
ancestral depth.
It is perhaps not surprising that ancestors
were so important to people at the very
start of the farming period, for these people
were becoming increasingly concerned
with the `ancestries' or rootstock of the
domesticated animals and edible plants on
which they relied. In these ancestor religions the dead were important perhaps for
guaranteeing fertility and for overseeing
the fortunes of the living.
It is in the PPNB levels at Jericho and
other settlements in the Near East and southeast Europe that clay statuettes first appear
in large numbers. In certain areas they are
mostly female effigies, giving rise to interpretations of a mother-goddess cult, but in
others such as northern Greece the sexes
are represented in equal numbers. Followers of the late Marija Gimbutas's ideas have
interpreted these figurines as effigies of a
mother-goddess. Yet there are some very
good reasons for seeing them as representations of dead individual ancestors.
These include the restriction of representations to adults (similar to the selection
of skulls) since pre-sexual children cannot be
ancestors; the discovery of statuettes in caches
beside human skulls; and the archaeological
contexts of figurines, found beneath houses
and also in house walls and the joins between
houses, placed there perhaps as expressions
of household kinship links.
Moreover, the faces of both plastered
skulls and figurines were carefully modelled
with the exception of the mouth which is
generally missing or only weakly represented. This similarity links the two styles
and suggests that the statuettes and figurines
represented individual ancestors in the same
way as the plastered skulls, but in a more
symbolic form. The mother-goddess theory
is an anachronism - a back-projection of
ideas about gods and goddesses in human
form derived from later religions.
Deity religions - the conception of
supernatural forces in human form
- first arose with the development
of early complex states such as those in
Bronze Age Egypt, Mesopotamia and
China. There is no convincing evidence
for deity religion anywhere before this
date.
Ancestors were still regarded as important in Egypt after c 3100BC and Mesopotamia after c 2600BC - figurines continue
to be made, but they gradually fade out
during the Bronze Age. At the same time,
new ideas emerged, when the rulers of
these early states enhanced their absolute
power by claiming descent from deified
founding ancestors.
These rulers evidently expected an afterlife which was a mirror-image of life on
earth, where they would live in splendour
surrounded by their court. The burials of
the Egyptian 1st Dynasty at Abydos and the
Mesopotamian royal tombs at Ur provide
graphic evidence of the mass sacrifice of
courtiers, as if to accompany their dead
ruler to the royal court in the other world.
In the same way in China, the first royal
graves accompanied by mass human sacrifice appear with the Shang Dynasty after c
1400BC, and the concept of immortal
superhuman deities was first developed.
Human rulers wished to be seen as the
representatives on earth of their deified
ancestors, bolstering their autocratic regimes through the eternal rule of heavenly
deities. In contrast to the disembodied
spirits or forces of earlier times, these deities
were now given human form - not surprisingly, human form similar to that of the
rulers themselves. Their statues, like those
of the rulers, were often larger than life, in
clear contrast to the small ancestor figurines
of the preceding Neolithic and Chalcolithic periods. These and similar religious
concepts survived in some parts of the
world - for example, in pre-Columbian
South and Central America - into the
historical period.
In less developed parts of the Neolithic
and Bronze Age world, such as Britain
and western Europe, the evidence for the
nature of prehistoric religion is less clear:
we have neither Neolithic figurines, nor
Bronze Age statuary. Yet it is possible that
a similar conceptual shift - from ancestors
to deities - took place here too, evidenced
by the transition from the communal, re-usable burial mounds of the Neolithic to
the rich leader-burials of the Bronze Age.
Today's `world religions' - Christianity, Buddhism, Hinduism and
Islam - combine aspects of ancestor and deity cults in syncretic fashion
according to place and tradition.
The origins of these religious movements lie largely between 600BC and
AD600, among the poor and dispossessed
of the ethnic groups engulfed by imperial
and state powers. Unlike the deity cults of
the early states, these religions were born
out of prophets' and teachers' promises of
salvation and enlightenment for the masses,
in which earthly power and wealth provide
no advantage for achieving the goal of
transcendence of death.
The great monuments of societies following one of the world religions are
generally not to collective or individual
dead but to the supreme deity or to the
central idea of the religion. The remains of
the dead are annihilated, disposed of simply, or subsumed within the monuments to
the deity/idea. With the new idea of the
transcendence of death being open to everyone, the idea itself becomes more
important than the individual dead.
Today we live in an increasingly secular
age, in which salvation is thought to come
about through solutions found in this
world rather than the next. We may doubt
or reject the notion of transcendence of
death. But by looking back on past attempts to transcend death, we can learn to
view the world anew and confront our
mortality without dogma or denial.
Dr Mike Parker Pearson is Reader in Archaeology at the University of Sheffield. His book,
The Archaeology of Death and Burial, will
be published by Sutton next month.
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© Council for British Archaeology, 1999
Neanderthals, sex and modern humans
Stonehenge and the terror in the sky
From ancestor cult to divine religion