anth532 religious control in tawantinsuyu

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RELIGIOUS CONTROL IN TAWANTINSUYU

James A. Davenport

ANTH532: Indigenous Peoples of South America

May 8th, 2012

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In Andean South America, there is a long antiquity of state-level societies, dating as far

back as the Preceramic period from 4900 BP to 3200 BP (Haas et al. 2005). Many states came

and went, manifesting and expressing themselves in vastly different ways with a variety of

artistic styles, cosmologies, and political structures over time. The collapse of Wari and

Tiwanaku at the end of the Middle Horizon left the Andean world balkanized, with many small,

competing polities that were culturally diverse existing in the power vacuum left by the absence

of these states (Arkush and Stanish 2005). It was on this "fluctuating central Andean political

landscape where populations of varying size created distinct ethnic identities, economic systems,

and social structures" (Covey 2008:289), the Inka Empire emerged.

The Inka Empire came to dominate the landscape during the Late Horizon (AD 1476 to

AD 1534), incorporating over 12 million subjects and over eighty subject polities (D'Altroy and

Bishop 1990). These polities varied greatly in terms of level of complexity, languages,

ideologies, political systems, and geographic setting. As a result, to conquer and maintain

control over their vast and diverse territory, the Inka adapted differing, flexible techniques for

administration depending on "the complexities and capacities of indigenous societies, diversity

in regional resources, and logistical and security considerations (D'Altroy and Bishop 1990:120).

Some societies were easily brought into the Inka hegemony, while others with established elites,

political hierarchies and belief systems were resistant to imperial control (Covey 2006).

One particular strategy used by the Inka was ideological control. Ideological control is at

the same time one of the most elusive and one of the most effective means in which an empire

can control its subjects (Bauer and Stanish 2001). There is evidence that the Inka put a great deal

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of effort and resources into this control in an effort to pacify and govern the empire's subjects

effectively.

RELIGION IN ARCHAEOLOGY

While ideology in its own nature is elusive, it is especially elusive to archaeologists,

especially those that study societies that do not have developed writing systems. While physical

remains of things like craft production and architecture are often readily available, the belief

systems that peoples of the past held and lived by remain far more difficult to detect.

Nonetheless, it can often be one of the most important facets of prehistoric societies, and in many

cases can be the cause for why a ceramic is decorated in a certain manner, or why a structure is

laid out the way it is. Even through today, ideology remains an important part of society as a

"basis for intense solidarities, interwoven with, and often fundamental to, national and ethnic

identities" (Edwards 2005:110).

Despite this importance, there is a reluctance to address ritual and ideology in

archaeological investigations. Many archaeologists treat ideology as "primarily intangible,

elusive, and unknowable" (Howey and O'Shea 2006:261). Its transient and unverifiable nature

make it hard to address within the realm of processual or scientific approaches. The theoretical

framework of processual archaeology has been critiqued as adhering to an "extreme cultural

materialism" (Spencer 1997:218) that ignores ideological factors as unimportant or

epiphenomenal. Christopher Hawkes (1954) devised a four-tiered system of archaeological

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inference that was held in high regard in the field for a long time due to its logical nature, and

came to be known as the "ladder of inference" (Robb 1988:330). Hawkes believes that

archaeological phenomena can be ranked in order of easiest to infer to most obscure: 1)

techniques for the production of archaeological phenomena; 2) the subsistence economics of

human groups; 3) social and political institutions of groups; and 4) religious institutions and

spiritual life of groups (Hawkes 1954:161-162). While Hawkes recognizes that religious

institutions and spiritual life exist in the archaeological record, he deems the identification of

these phenomena too difficult to be discussed with any certainty and should not be attempted

(Hawkes 1954:162). Nonetheless, ideology remains both an important part of the lives of

prehistoric peoples and a tangible part of the archaeological record, especially in the Andes.

Jerry Moore (1996:122) writes:

"Based on the data from the ethnographic present and vast references to the

ethnohistoric past, the central significance of Andean ritual is certain. Everything

we know about the Andes points to the essential nature of rite, and the historical

significance of Andean ritual is a simple fact whether or not archaeologists

acknowledge it. Ritual is not insignificant, epiphenomenal, or unamenable to

archaeological inquiry."

Though it is clear that ritual is important, there still is not consensus amongst

archaeologists how it should be investigated. Several recent attempts at creating both a

theoretical framework and approach in which to view ritual and ideology as well as a set of

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archaeological expectations for the manifestation of ritual in ideology in archaeology are

discussed here.

John Robb (1998) has more recently addressed Hawkess ladder of inference

and the study of symbols in archaeology. He has criticized the reduction of signs or symbols as

purely material and the forced dichotomy between a visible, tangible material world and

invisible ideas and feelings, between hard scientific approaches and soft humanistic

approaches, and between objective knowledge and subjective opinion (Robb 1998:330). He

believes that there is a double standard present between symbolic and economic archaeologies.

The division of archaeology into categories of material and symbolic is detrimental to the

understanding of prehistoric society, and denies that economy can be fundamentally cultural, and

that ideas are embodied in material practices (Robb 1998:331). Indeed, ideology can be seen as

a central element of a cultural system and a source of social power (DeMarrais et. al.

1996:15). Robb further gives an example of this double standard to further illustrate his point:

If we understand how a prehistoric rock carving was made technologically

without knowing why it was made culturally, the effort is considered a failure and

symbolic archaeology is pronounced impossible. But if we understand how

prehistoric people produced their food technologically without knowing the

cultural reasons why they produced what and how much they did in the way they

did, the effort is considered a successful demonstration of economic archaeology;

never mind that we have reduced a complex, value-laden set of social relations to

a simple faunal inference [Robb 1998:331].

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In this reevaluation of the role of symbols in archaeology, symbols become inseparable from

economic and material use, and symbols should not be seen as irrational or ethereal but as

rationalized and concrete (Robb 1998:331). It should be noted that Hawkes never intended his

ladder of inference to be a blanket statement for all of archaeology. Rather, it was intended to

apply only to contexts where there were no relevant historical or ethnohistorical sources (Fogelin

2008:129).

In his defense of the necessity of symbolic archaeology, Robb outlines three main views

for the consideration of symbols in archaeology: symbols as tokens, symbols as girders, and

symbols as tesserae (Robb 1998:332). In the symbols as tokens, or information transmission

view, the main purpose of symbols is to serve as instruments of communication. Binford (1962)

argued that a symbol in material form may indicate predictable economies of representation. In

this model, an exotic artifact can indicate long-distance exchange, a monumental structure can

show the ability to command labor, different (and elaborate) clothing can indicate special societal

status (Robb 1998:332). In a sense, all symbols are created with the purpose of conveying a

message to those that look upon them. This model of symbols has proved useful in evaluating

strategies of political leadership (DeMarrais et. al. 1996) and prestige goods exchange (Saitta

2000).

In the symbols as girders, or the mental reality approach, is a structuralist approach into

how symbols constituted and structured the mental and social world of ancient people (Robb

1998:334-335). This has sometimes been called cognitive archaeology, and focuses on symbols

as mental structures for framing the cultural world and structuring thought process (Robb

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1998:335). The most important component of this model is that humans will think and act

through learned, culturally specific structures that recur wherever they organize themselves and

their material productions (Robb 1998:335). Thus, in this model, through symbols we can

begin to understand the framework in which all decisions of a society are (consciously or

subconsciously) made.

Robbs final model for the archaeological interpretation of symbols, symbols as

tesserae or the poststructuralist critique, rejects the notion in both approaches that symbols are

imbued with meaning. Meaning resides neither in artifacts nor people, but rather it resides in the

moment of interaction between both of them (Thomas 1996:97), and the meanings of symbols do

not exist outside of this moment. This ethereal nature of the meaning of symbols means that

there is a constant variation in the interpretation of important symbols through time. This view

rejects structuralist interpretations of symbols as essentializing or totalizing (Robb 1998:338),

and archaeologists are required to carry out close contextual analysis with regard to symbols, as

their meanings can and do change.

This discussion of symbols is important in the archaeological investigation of ideology.

With the exception of societies with written records or societies that made contact with other

literate people, symbols are one of the few avenues of evidence available for understanding

ideology. Fogelin (2008:130, emphasis in original) argues that religions aresystems of symbols

and not unconstrained, free-floating units, an idea originally proposed by Geertz (1966). Geertz

argues that this system of symbols acts to establish powerful, pervasive and long-lasting moods

in motivations in men by formulating conceptions of a general order of existence, and clothing

these conceptions with such an order of factuality that the moods and motivations seem uniquely

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realistic (Geertz 1966:4). Furthermore, even in those societies with written records, there

remains the strong possibility for bias from the observer, especially in the case of those societies

who were observed by Spanish missionaries, whose main objective was to convert the

indigenous population to Christianity and regarded the extant faiths as paganism or idolatry (de

Landa 1978 [1566]).

In a separate analysis of Hawkes treatise, Fogelin (2008) argues that the archaeological

study of religion is conceptually simple. Arguing that religions are systems of deliberate,

connected symbols, he suggests that the study of ideology can begin with the aspects of a past

religion that are the most obvious or manifested clearly materially, and the easiest to identify.

From there, one can move onto the next easiest repeatedly. Though this systematic analysis,

key symbols might be identified that can orient and constrain large portions of a religious

system (Fogelin 2008:130-131). Ultimately, he concludes that the archaeology of religion is as

easy or as difficult as any other branch of archaeological research and should proceed in pretty

much the same way (Fogelin 2008:131). Critics of the archaeology of religion have focused on

the aspects that are most unknowable, and as a result have applied unreasonable standards for

its acceptance (Fogelin 2008:132). This focus on the abstract relates back to Robbs (1998)

argument of a double standard present between symbolic and material archaeologies. While

there are certainly aspects of religion that cannot be understood archaeology, the same is true

about economies and other more common focuses for research.

A recent study by Meghan Howey and John OShea (2006) has challenged commonly

accepted strategies of reviewing religion and ideology in archaeology. An overwhelming

majority of archaeological research dealing with religion draws from ethnology, ethnohistory,

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and oral traditions or forklore. Indeed, it is commonplace for archaeological material to be

interpreted directly in terms of either ethnology, folklore, iconography, or astronomy (Brown

1997:470). Even Hawkes suggests this as a possible means of uncovering the obscure nature of

ritual in the archaeological record (1954:162). Howey and OShea suggest that these sources are

viewed as superior because they are derived from living people who can describe intangible

beliefs and cosmologies (2006:261). This is viewed at times as essentialist, because it assumes

that primitive, non-world religions and peoples are static and unchanging, stuck in time like

Saids orientalism (Rowan 2011).

In their analysis of the Missaukee earthworks in northern lower Michigan, Howey and

OShea reject this dependence on ethnographic or ethnohistoric analogy in the study of ritual and

religion in archaeology. Despite being able to see similarities in their archaeological site with

ethnohistoric descriptions of ritual and connect it to its meaning, they maintain that the meaning

itself is not important, and the purpose of the site could be discerned without this ethnographic

analogy. They argue that

through the rigorous analysis of this kind of patterning, prehistoric archaeology

has the potential to discover and understand ancient ritual. This is not the

meaning of ritual, as we cannot know the name of the ritual, or what each of the

features and activities specifically symbolized, or document the story that makes

sense of the specific symbols. We can, however, build up a structural

understanding of what was involved in the ritual activity, who and how many

people attended, how often it occurred, during what season, from how far the

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participants traveled, and what kinds of social or integrative functions the ritual

might have served (Howey and OShea 2009:195).

Joyce Marcus (2007) discusses in detail proposed archaeological constraints for

identifying and studying ritual. Building off of work by Catherine Bell (1992, 1997), Marcus

suggests that the following criteria be defined as components of ritual: 1) one or more

performers; 2) an audience (humans, deities, ancestors); 3) a location (a temple, field, patio,

stairway cave, top of an altar); 4) a purpose (to communicate with ancestors, sanctify a new

temple); 5) meaning, subject matter, and content; 6) temporal span (hour, day, week); 7) actions

(chanting, singing, playing music, dancing, wearing masks and costumes, burning incense,

bloodletting, sacrificing humans or animals, smoking, making pilgrimages to caves or

mountaintops); and 8) foods and paraphernalia used in the performance of rites (Marcus

2007:48). These criteria are intended to strictly define rituals, and as such are intentionally

broad. Additionally, Marcus suggests that the components most likely to be recovered are

locations and paraphernalia, as opposed to meanings, songs, dances, etc. (Marcus 2007:48).

Marcus also suggests strategies of excavation and techniques that archaeologists can use

to aide them in the identification of ritual. These include 1) collecting ritual data from more

meaningful contexts; 2) documenting the diverse roles played by ritual; 3) explaining the fit (or

lack thereof) between ethnohistoric and archaeological data on ritual; and 4) use residue analyses

to determine the perishable contents of ritual vessels, caches, offering boxes, and tombs (Marcus

2007:43). Through the employment of these guiding principles, Marcus argues that

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archaeologists will be better equipped to identify ritual in the archaeological record and to study

and discuss the purpose, nature, utility and function of ritual in prehistoric societies.

A recent perspective presented by Mark Aldenderfer (2011) presents a pragmatic

approach for the archaeology of religion. Aldenderfer suggests that archaeologists should be

more interested in what religion does than what it is (2011:24). He proposes that archaeologists

should attempt to view religion in the archaeological record as an enabler used by agents, and as

transformative. In examining this, he proposes that archaeologists use a combination of

techniques. The first of these techniques is philosophical pragmatism. Aldenderfer believes that

no single theoretical perspective can nor should hope to capture what religion and its material

representation mean, precisely becausereligion sits at the nexus of multiple social, cognitive,

and behavioral domains (2011:25, italics in original). In addition to philosophical pragmatism,

Aldenderfer argues that the use of any theory must take place within a context of evidential

constraints and accepted bodies of independent data that can be used to test and examine the

assumptions, linking arguments, and contents of these theories (2011:26). Framing these

theoretical frameworks in context can inform the archaeologists of how to look for the multiple

roles of religion in past societies and when the manipulation of religion might take on heightened

significance (Aldenderfer 2011:28). Lastly, Aldenderfer argues for the use of contrasts as a way

to examine how artifactual assemblages or archaeological evidence differs or changes and thus

are significant in illuminating religion through material culture.

Also relevant to this study, Jerry Moore (1996) and Alan Covey (2006) have defined

several archaeological markers for imperial control. Among these markers are: 1) the emergence

of a four-tier settlement hierarchy; 2) emergence of increasing centralization; 3) the construction

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of palace and estates for the ruler; 4) the development of standardized and specialized religious

and administrative architecture; and 5) evidence of lasting territorial control. Specifically

relating to the development of standardized and specialized religious and administrative

architecture, Moore suggests that it exhibit permanence, centrality, ubiquity, scale, and visibility.

All of these things would demarcate a structure as an important religious symbol, being

permanent and unmoving, as well as large, centrally located, and visible on the landscape to

serve as a constant reminder to all who see it.

This is by no means an exhaustive review of theoretical literature about the presence of

religion in the archaeological record, but it is meant to examine several frameworks under which

ritual and ideology can be discussed, and provide a platform in moving forward to examining

religion in the archaeological record of the Inka empire.

INKA EXPANSION

The Inka Empire experienced a meteoric expansion during its brief existence,

encompassing a geographic region from Ecuador to northern Chile and northwestern Argentina.

By all accounts, the Inka empire was one of a number of small, regionally important polity in the

Cuzco basin during the Late Intermediate Period after Wari collapse. Chronicles refer to the

earliest manifestations of the Inka polity as "controlling small territories, with little or no

political control over neighboring groups" (Covey 2006:112). Indeed, the area around Cuzco

"witnessed a proliferation of small polities, which established themselves in locations that

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provided defense, as well as access to a wide range of agropastoral resources" (Covey 2006:106).

The defensive nature of settlements in these polities during this time period reflects a political

balkanization that occurred, with many competing groups struggling to maintain control over

adequate and sufficient resources. As population grew in the basin, increased economic

pressures strained the Inka. Lack of sufficient food production and resources caused the Inka to

begin militarily raiding their neighbors in the Cuzco basin. With the reign of the fourth Inka

ruler, Mayta Capac, the Inkas began consolidating political control over the Cuzco basin, taking

control of resources and lands of neighboring groups and turning them into subordinates with

appointed Inka leaders, usually the ruler's sons (Covey 2006:112).

This increased militarization and the fact that the Inka were now in control of populations

that were not ethnically Inka needed to be justified. As a result, there were several changes in the

ideology and religious power of the state. First, chronicles describe an increased importance

placed on the ancestor cult. Additionally, there was the promotion of sun worship as the state

religion (Covey 2006:118). With this promotion came the additional caveat that the Inka ruler

was the descendant of the sun, and that any ruler who did not accept this divine lineage and

nature of the Inka's power was insulting the sun itself. This provided a means by which the

empire could both justify its control over subject populations that were not ethnically Inka as

well as justify additional imperial expansion and conquest of other polities.

The establishment of the Inka ruler as a descendant of the sun itself had important

implications that lend themselves well to the establishment of ideologies useful in empire

building. In an effort to create this lineage, many stories were created about early Inka rulers

interacting directly with the sun, moon, and other deities. These stories created an artificial

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antiquity for the empire, such that the Spanish chroniclers and modern scholars speak of the

earliest Inka rulers in uncertain terms. The Inka empire had a temporal span of only about a

century, but the creation of these myths and legends and this antiquity gave it much more of a

permanence. This artificial antiquity would have served to both justify and reinforce the Inka's

position as superior and in control over other ethnic groups, as well as provide a useful

propaganda tool amongst subjugated groups to exhibit proof of the inevitability of Inka imperial

control.

At this point, when the Inka empire adapt their ideology to justify its militaristic

conquests, expansion was no longer done out of necessity for resources. New motivations drove

expansion, including access to other resources not available in the Cuzco basin (such as coastal

resources like shell, fish, and foods only capable of being grown in lowland coastal valleys) as

well as a desire to generate an increased surplus and wealth. As the Inka expanded into different

geographic regions, they encountered different polities, some of which adapted very easily to

imperial hegemony. Others, however, were more resistant. In many cases, especially on the

central coast of Peru, the Inka encountered small, state-level polities that were much more

resistant than the stratified non-state-level societies of the central highlands. These small states

were resistant to imperial control. As a result, the Inka would modify their ideological strategies

to coexist beside extant local ones (Covey 2006), as opposed to forcing the imperial cult of sun

worship onto these populations.

Cobo (1990 [1653]) describes a practice of the Inka where, once a polity was conquered,

the idols or most important idol of that region would be removed from its local context and taken

to Cuzco. In the event that any person in that polity should transgress, whether it be against the

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deity or against the empire, he or she would have to come to Cuzco to ask forgiveness at the idol.

This practice not only solidified Cuzco's position as the capital and center of power of the

empire, but it signified the control that the Inka had over its subject polities. By capturing their

religious figures, it demonstrated that these local beliefs were secondary to the state cult, and that

the populations adhering to them were in turn subservient to those following the state cult. The

veracity of this practice cannot be confirmed or disproven, but nonetheless it provides an

example of the image of the Inka empire portrayed to the chroniclers, that they were masterful

manipulators who managed to maintain control over their subjects through a number of different

ways.

It should be noted that Conrad and Demarest (1984) propose a somewhat different view

for the motivations behind Inka imperial expansion. As opposed to resource pressure, they argue

that expansion was fueled by the traditional institution of split inheritance. When a ruler died,

his title would be transferred to his successor, but his wealth and material possessions were not.

As a result, each new ruler "would find conquests desirable as means of accumulating his own

wealth" (Conrad and Demarest 1984:94). This necessity to accumulate one's own wealth and

greatness would have escalated exponentially to the point where the empire became as large as it

was.

This alternative view differs most importantly in that the rulers themselves are the ones

being manipulated by ideological constraints. This is different from the previous scenario, in

which they are the agents who are performing the manipulation and control of ideology over

subjugated populations. In Conrad and Demarest's scenario, the rulers do not have to exclusively

be constrained. They could very well have been both manipulated by these constraints as well as

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manipulating themselves in the control of other groups. There is also the possibility that they

could have used the constraint of split inheritance as a justification of increased militaristic

expansion of the empire as well.

Regardless of the degree of application, ideological control appears to have been

paramount to imperial strategies in subjugation of non-Inka polities and populations. It served

an important role in both the justification of imperial expansions and subjugation of polities, and

in the pacification and acceptance of the imperial hegemony amongst conquered and subjugated

populations.

PACHACAMAC

One particularly interesting case study is the site of Pachacamac. Pachacamac was a

ritual and pilgrimage center located on the central coast of Peru. It is noted as having pan-

regional importance that extended as far back as the Early Intermediate Period (900 BC - AD

200) (Shimada 1991). While having a large residential component, it was also one of the most

important pilgrimage sites in Andean South America, and was the location of one of the most

consulted oracles. The site was highlighted by the prominent Temple of Pachacamac.

In general, the Inka conquest of the coast was much different than that of the highlands.

As the coast provided more resistance to the idea of imperial Inka conquest, for a long period of

time there was only loose association between coastal polities and the Inka empire for mutually

beneficial trade. Once the empire eventually expanded to include coastal polities, it adapted

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complementary political and ideological systems without providing much change to established

local systems (Covey 2006, Marcone 2010, Stanish 2001).

Pachacamac seems to be an exception to this rule, experiencing profound changes in the

design of the site, including the construction of new buildings and the repurposing of others

(Eeckhout 2004). The Inka occupation at the site is most dense between the Tauri Chumpi

Palace and the Temple of the Sun, as they constructed a number of new structures and heavily

modified old ones, including the Convent of the Mamacona, the Pilgrims' Plaza, the Tauri

Chumpi Palace, and the Temple of the Sun itself (Shimada 1991).

The Temple of the Sun was built adjacent to the pre-Inka Temple of Pachacamac. Cobo

writes that the Temple of the Sun at Pachacamac was second only to the Sun Temple in Cuzco

(1990 [1653]) He also notes that during Inka control at Pachacamac, the Temple of the Sun was

the site of feasts and many sacrifices, as well as the home to a resident population of priests and

attendants.

The Inka decision to build the Temple of the Sun represents a deliberate, political

demonstration of control over Pachacamac. Durkheim (1965 [1912]) postulates that cults and

rites are integral to the establishment and maintenance of society and, therefore, to the

legitimization of dominance and an established hierarchy. In Durkheim's model, religion is a

hegemonic vehicle used to reinforce societal status and authority. With this in mind, Inka

occupation of an important ritual site like Pachacamac and the construction of new Inka facilities

in the presence of existing ritual structures sent a powerful message of cultural dominance or

legitimate succession (Bauer and Stanish 2001).

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Inka imperial strategies are also expressed in material culture, and architecture and

artifacts following the styles of Cuzco can be seen in many subjugated areas. Cuzco styles are

both distinctive and standardized, and many of these objects (including fine clothing and serving

vessels used at state-sponsored feasts) would have been highly visible. By providing these

objects in imperial styles, the Inka conveyed a clear, repeated message that imperial rulers were

the providers of food, drink, and hospitality (Morris 1991). Inka style objects were

manufactured in state workshops and production enclaves located at or near provincial centers

(like Pachacamac) where local or hybrid style objects may have been made as well (Hayashida

1998, D'Altroy and Bishop 1990).

In addition to the local reproduction of imperial styles, imperial pottery may have been

imported from Cuzco. Recent research on materials excavated at the Temple of the Sun has

provided grounds for this possibility (Davenport 2012). A number of stylistically Inka ceramics

found at a midden from the Temple of the Sun were compositionally different from other

stylistically pre-Inka ceramics found in the same contexts. A majority of these different Inka

ceramics were finely decorated serving vessels such as plates and karos. This suggests that the

Inka could have been transporting these vessels long distances, possibly from Cuzco, in an effort

to produce highly visible symbols of Inka imperial authority. The presence of imperial pottery

from the capital itself would reinforce the idea that the Inka intended to provide the image of

themselves as the literal provider of food and drink for state-sponsored ceremonies.

CONCLUSION

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Religion appears to have played a very important role in the lives of prehistoric Andean

peoples. It is precisely this importance that allowed it to be of such utility to the Inka. There are

several clear markers, both archaeologically and in the ethnohistoric literature that point to the

manipulation of ideology, ritual, and religion by the Inka. It appears that religious control was

among the most important strategies used by the Inka in their pacification, subjugation, and

control of subject polities and populations. This control was manifested in different ways

depending on the nature of the subject population's structure and pre-existing beliefs, but was

always adapted to be most effective in its application.

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