Çatalhöyük 2003 Archive Report

ÇATALHÖYÜK 2003 ARCHIVE REPORT

REFLEXIVITY IN PRACTICE

Kathryn Rountree

Abstract

My interest in Çatalhöyük emerged as a result of my anthropological research in Malta, which has examined a range of contemporary interpretations and agendas which have been brought to bear on Malta’s Neolithic temples. In particular, that work focused on two distinct discourses – those of archaeology and Goddess feminism – although local popular interpretations and interests, specifically those of the tourist industry, artists and hunters were also considered (Rountree 2003, 2002, 2001).

With this background it was an exciting prospect to have the opportunity to undertake similar research at Çatalhöyük during the 2003 excavation season. In the same way that Malta’s Neolithic temples, which are 3,000 years younger than Çatalhöyük, have been employed symbolically for a variety of contemporary nationalistic, spiritual, economic and scientific purposes, both by local people and by foreigners, I discovered, so has the site of Çatalhöyük. Just as Malta’s “fertility Goddess” has been variously commoditised, shunned, embraced or ignored, so has Çatalhöyük’s “mother Goddess”.

The biggest difference between the research contexts of Malta and Çatalhöyük is that at Çatalhöyük the issue of multivocality is very much in the open and is explicitly incorporated within the wider research design of the current archaeologists. Reflexivity is employed as a deliberate strategy in the construction of archaeological knowledge; indeed it is the hallmark of the method currently being used at Çatalhöyük and a great deal has been written on the topic. (See chapters by project director Ian Hodder and project members in Towards Reflexive Method in Archaeology: the Example at Çatalhöyük edited by Hodder, 2000. See also Hodder 1997, 1998, 2003).

Özet

Çatalhöyük’e duydugum ilgi, Malta’da yürüttügüm ve Neolitik tapinaklara yönelik farkli yorumlarin arastirilmasi üzerine egilen antropolojik arastirmanin sonucunda oldu. Sözü edilen çalisma temelde iki ayri söyleme, arkeolojinin ve Tanriça feminizminin söylemlerine odaklanmakla beraber, yerel popüler ilgi ve yorumlar, özellikle de turizm endüstrisinin, artistlerin ve avcilarin ilgi ve yorumlari da çalisma kapsamina girmisti (Rountree 2003, 2002, 2001).

Böyle bir arka planla, 2003 kazi sezonunda Çatalhöyük’te de benzer bir arastirma yapma firsati heyecan vericiydi. Aynen Malta’nin Çatalhöyük’ten 3000 yil daha genç olan Neolitik tapinaklarinin pek çok ulusal, tinsel, ekonomik ve bilimsel amaçlara yönelik olarak, gerek turistler gerek de yerel halk tarafindan sembolik biçimlerde kullanilmasi gibi, Çatalhöyük’ün de benzer biçimlerde kullanildigini kesfettim.

Malta ile Çatalhöyük arasinda arastirma baglamina iliskin en önemli fark, çokseslilik konusunun Çatalhöyük’te net biçimde ortada olmasi ve süregelen arkeolojik arastirmalarin tasarimina açik biçimde dahil edilmis olmasidir. Arkeolojik bilginin üretilmesinde kasitli bir strateji olarak kullanilmakta olan “kendini yansitma” (reflexivity), Çatalhöyük’te kullanilmakta olan metodun temel tasidir ve bu konuda pek çok sey yazilmistir (Bkz. Ian Hodder (der.). 2000. Towards Reflexive Method in Archaeology: the Example at Çatalhöyük. Ayrica, Hodder 1997, 1998, 2003).

Background

My first intention at Çatalhöyük was to pursue the same approach I had used in Malta: to explore the range of voices belonging to those with some form of vested interest in the site. I discovered quickly, however, during my preliminary reading that another social anthropologist, Ayfer Bartu, was already engaged in precisely this work and was producing fascinating material which compared interestingly with my Maltese findings (Bartu 2000). I decided, therefore, to re-focus my project and concentrate more specifically on the archaeologists: I wanted to explore beneath the surface of archaeological discourse, whose published component I was fairly familiar with, and examine the much-celebrated reflexivity as a bodily practice at the site. I also hoped to learn more about the articulation of two particular discourses – those of the Goddess movement and of archaeology – in relation to the site.

As it happened, the construction of archaeological knowledge is, and has been, the subject of others’ research also (see Carolyn Hamilton’s chapter “Faultlines: the Construction of Archaeological Knowledge at Çatalhöyük” in Towards Reflexive Method in Archaeology, 2000). The very fact that there were at least half a dozen researchers – Turkish and foreign – at the site in 2003 who were interested in various aspects of the role of reflexivity and multivocality in knowledge production would seem to indicate the on-going commitment of the archaeological team to reflexive practices.

Each interpretive voice – whether it belongs to a member of the archaeological team or to someone researching the archaeologists and other interest groups – is uniquely inflected with particular interests. Those which significantly influence my perspective derive from my previous work in Malta, from long-term research on the Goddess movement, from particular interests in the re-invention and commoditisation of the past and the appropriation and colonization of indigenous knowledge and cultural property, and from feminist and poststructuralist theoretical approaches.

Çatalhöyük

I spent three and a half weeks at Çatalhöyük in July 2003. While there I had many informal conversations with those working on the project, talked with fellow social anthropologists at the site, read material on the site data-base and from the site’s bookshelves, and interviewed Ian Hodder. At Hodder’s invitation I prepared the text for a two-panel display to be installed in the Visitor Centre interpreting the site from the perspective of the Goddess visitors. This text includes many quotations from the site visitors’ book (see Fig. 70).

It is important to emphasise that this cohort of visitors encompasses a considerable diversity of beliefs, opinions and attitudes in relation to the site and it was impossible in the space assigned to present the variety and detail of these views. Many of these visitors participate at some level in contemporary Goddess religion or Paganism and many, but not all, are feminist. A number come to Çatalhöyük because their imaginations have been caught – sometimes decades ago – by James Mellaart’s interpretation of the site: they do not necessarily practice Goddess religion personally. Visiting the site and seeing the archaeological remains for themselves is the fulfillment of a long-held dream.

For those who do embrace contemporary Goddess religion, visiting Çatalhöyük, sometimes on a tour with a group of like-minded people, mostly women, has the extra dimension of being a sacred pilgrimage. It is a place to remember, to celebrate and to reconnect imaginatively and bodily with a place where a great Goddess was once the pre-eminent image of divinity and where, it seems, gender relations were more balanced before patriarchal social and political structures became the norm.

When one studies the site visitors’ book and other accounts of Goddess pilgrims’ visits to Çatalhöyük, one encounters a range of responses to the site. There are many expressions of excitement, joy, relief at finally having made it, a sense of being healed and blessed, reverence, gratitude to the Goddess and gratitude to the archaeologists for giving time to provide comprehensive tours of the site.

But not all responses are unequivocally positive. Some visitors are deeply grateful for the opportunity to spend time at the site, but are critical and sometimes very angry about aspects of the current archaeological interpretation which they see as discarding Mellaart’s Goddess-centred interpretation for one which seems “shockingly biased” and determinedly blind to evidence of the sacred feminine. They also challenge the archaeologists on specific points. Witness, for example, some comments made in the site visitors’ book. One says that the archaeological goal of discovering whether or not excavated rooms should be designated “shrines” seems quite limited: “The point is that worship of the Mother Goddess occurred throughout this community and that worship needs to be far better recognized in your exhibit”. One woman asks why projectile points are interpreted as evidence of warfare rather than of hunting. This person also finds it outrageous that an image usually interpreted as the Mother Goddess has been used at the site as a unisex sign for the toilets. Several challenge the archaeologists to “own their interpretations” and to distinguish between their opinions and facts saying that failure to do so is poor science. This criticism is particularly interesting in light of the fact that archaeologists normally regard their own perspective as scientifically based in contrast with what they see as the non-scientific based approach of the Goddess visitors.

The visitors who make such criticisms tend to be very well-informed about the site and some of the most virulent criticisms come from women with high profiles in the Goddess movement. I noted the name of a well-known author and a well-known musician and Goddess tour leader (both of whom also lead Goddess tours to Malta) in the visitors’ book, along with some who signed their names “Dr …”. Most come from the United States but others come from Canada, Europe and Australasia.

When one compares Çatalhöyük and Malta with respect to the relationship between the Goddess visitors and the archaeologists, it is clear that the relationship is much more fraught at Çatalhöyük. The reasons for this are interesting to consider. Çatalhöyük may be better known because of Mellaart’s writing and the high profile of the current excavation, but it probably does not receive more Goddess visitors than Malta’s temples – I note that more Goddess tours to Malta have been advertised in the various publications of the movement in recent years. In both places archaeological interpretation is increasingly moving away from interpretations which recognise a Goddess-centred religion in Neolithic times. Certainly my research in Malta showed that the Goddess is systematically being written out of archaeological interpretations. At Çatalhöyük Ian Hodder has explicitly acknowledged the importance of the Goddess visitors as one of the groups who have an interest in the site. Why, then, are things not less, rather than more, fraught at Çatalhöyük?

It is ironic that at a site where multivocality has been openly and officially embraced, one important interest group contains individuals who are sorely aggrieved because they feel their voices go unregistered in the official interpretation of the site. The display I prepared may be seen as one step towards addressing this problem, but I suspect that a small display in the Visitor Centre will be perceived by some as tokenism. At least some of the Goddess visitors who come to Çatalhöyük know that multivocality is the archaeologists’ stated ideal and they take it seriously. Visiting Çatalhöyük may be a spiritual pilgrimage for them, but they also want to learn about the scientific work being conducted there and to engage in serious dialogue with those conducting the work. During the summer months this is often possible at Çatalhöyük, whereas it has not been possible in Malta. A great many of the visitors who belong to the Goddess movement are articulate, well-read, college-educated, middle-class, feminist women who are accustomed to debate and expect to be heard and taken seriously – though not necessarily agreed with – especially when they are told by the archaeologists that multivocality has been adopted as the theoretical ideal. One Goddess visitor wrote in the site visitors’ book: “Demonstrate your cooperative, open ways of working by incorporating Mellaart’s work, Marija Gimbutas and many other scholars into this exhibit. You have such an opportunity to do this differently.”

As feminists they might be expected to be sensitive to, tiresomely familiar with, and the last to be impressed with what could be seen as tokenism and the politics of gesture. They might argue, with some justification, that having a voice – being given a voice by the archaeologists – does not mean that it carries equal status with other voices, especially the archaeologists’. All voices are not equally empowered to speak authoritatively about the site’s interpretation. Other interest groups, such as local villagers from Küçükköy or kilim designers or government officials, while having specific and powerful claims on the site, might not expect much in the way of interpretive power. For these other interest groups, the archaeologists are the experts at interpretation.

In this respect, I suggest, Goddess visitors are different from other interest groups. They are much more likely to be aware of the contestable nature of interpretations of the past, of the politics of discourse, and that accounts of the past emerge through discursive processes and are susceptible to change over time for all sorts of reasons as well as because of the recovery of new data. Ironically it is precisely because Hodder has chosen to embrace multivocality that the clash of these two discourses has occurred more openly at Çatalhöyük than in other places, such as Malta, where archaeological discourse is arguably equally far removed from Goddess discourse. I intend to explore further the ways in which power is articulated between these discourses.

It needs to be stressed that many visitors who come to the site because they are enamored with Mellaart’s interpretation of it are ignorant or disapproving of those who are overly critical of the current archaeologists. One writer in the visitors’ book (entry dated June 2001) exhorts the archaeologists “not to feel threatened by those who use the site as a source of religious inspiration” and another writes: “To the staff and all who participate here, our heartfelt thanks and gratitude for the love and understanding that can be promoted through this work. We can celebrate the differences and bless the Mother Goddess for showing herself at just the right time. Blessings.” Another entry concludes: “May the dialogue continue between all those who love this place.”

Thus, there is no straightforward breach between the archaeologists’ position and that of the Goddess visitors. There are those who see disagreements in interpretation as simply par for the course. It is also possible that some fear antagonizing the archaeologists who have the greatest access to data about the site and are currently happy to give site tours to Goddess visitors and others.

I will now go on to comment briefly on some of the reflexive practices employed by the archaeologists at the site. Carolyn Hamilton (2000), based on fieldwork conducted during the 1996 excavation season, reviewed the various reflexive tools or “building bricks” of the postprocessual methodology being employed at the site. These tools included the keeping of excavation diaries, the shooting of a regular video diary, site tours for laboratory-based specialists and for excavators, and a range of interactions between archaeologists and numerous other interest groups: people from the neighbouring village of Küçükköy, national and local government officials, tour guides, the media, artists (from the creators of kilims to fashion-designers and performance artists), and the visiting public, including Goddess visitors. All of the tools discussed by Hamilton are still in place, although only nominally in the case of the excavation diaries.

Hamilton (p. 122) observed that despite the range of tools intended “to promote open, non-authoritarian and multivocal interpretations”, a series of faultlines – some more serious than others – had developed in the features designed to produce reflexive method. Some of the “building bricks” had “slumped” in situ while others had “ruptured”. This is unsurprising given the numerous, persistent pressures on the project team from many directions and the conflicting imperatives with which members must contend.

I will review both the tools and the faultlines in future writing. For the moment, I would say that three factors heavily impact on what archaeologists do and do not do with respect to maintaining reflexive practices. The most mundane is the constant pressure of time. During the 2003 season (and the 2002 season), for example, no one made an entry in the excavation diary on the site data-base. To settle down to write about one’s thoughts, questions, hypotheses and so on after a day’s excavating, completing unit sheets and other data processing appears to have been simply beyond what participants felt inclined to do. When I asked various project members about this, I was told the diary was “not compulsory” and two junior members said they were “still apprentices” and “not fully inducted”. This seemed to imply that they felt they did not know enough or have the authority to reveal or discuss their ideas in a forum open to others. Another person told me she kept her own diary but did not contribute to the one on the site data-base.

This relates to the second factor: the impact of a large (around eighty), complex and hierarchical team structure on the practical working of reflexivity. Project participants ranged from well-published professors with international academic reputations and many years experience to undergraduate students on their first dig. The team included contract archaeologists and academics, students (undergraduate to PhD) and teachers, those with little time for theory and those whose waking lives and careers are built on it.

This all makes for an excellent context in which apprenticeship can thrive – and it does – but it is less apparent that it is a context in which reflexivity thrives, at least at present. Contract archaeologists and academic archaeologists, it seems to me, have quite different approaches and agendas. For the former, methodological problems tend to be approached pragmatically: they want to “get on with it” and not be held up by what they deem to be unnecessary levels of recording or hypothesizing.

For reflexivity to work and to be convincing, it requires “buy-in” from participants. Clearly, many participants in the project have greatly valued this approach in the past and many probably still do. The excavation diaries, when they were being used frequently in, for example, the 1999 season, indicate that those who wrote them found them extremely worthwhile. Ian Hodder commented to me during an interview that in 1999 there was a smaller team comprised entirely of professionals working at the site: it was less hierarchical and the system of reflexive tools worked better that year. Others told me that in previous seasons there had been many vigorous evening discussions and “fierce debates” over interpretations of the data emerging from the site.

It appears that 2003 was rather unusual in that there were many new project members and a new phase of the work was beginning. This may well account for the virtual absence of large-scale discussion or debate over interpretation this season. However I think that the two factors mentioned above – the pressure of time and the team composition with its diverse concerns and levels and types of experience – also contribute to the slump of reflexive practices. I should say that many discussions about the interpretation of archaeological features and finds did occur on site as small groups were excavating in particular areas and during the site tours and priority tours, however these discussions never, to my knowledge, spilled over into wider debates amongst project participants when they were off the site.

Thirdly, it appears that reflexivity is being undercut by academic competitiveness. One person told me that multiple interpretations and open access to data-bases and free-flowing debate and criticism are fine ideas in principle, but in practice people are “very protective of their own patch” because “it’s publish or perish”. Some are wary of sharing ideas and data before they have had the opportunity to publish their research. It is ironic that a practice designed to contribute to knowledge production is deemed risky by individuals concerned about their own publishing careers.

All of these issues deserve thorough consideration and will be addressed more fully in subsequent writing.