Constructing Frames of Reference by Lewis Binford, University of California
Press, $75, ISBN 0520223934
I HAD been struggling with this vast book for weeks when—on page 392,
generalisation number 95, proposition 50—the truth finally dawned. The
professionally flattering blurbs from three continents are not mere hype: Lewis
Binford’s Constructing Frames of Reference is a “compelling”,
“significant”, “landmark” work that will “change radically our thinking about
hunter-gatherer and early farming societies”.
As a genus we have a long history living off wild beasts, roots, seeds and
herbs. This ancestry—95 per cent of our own species’ existence—has
left us, according to novelists and social Darwinists—with deep
behavioural traits more relevant to big-game hunting than cooking
soufflés. Whatever your take on this, there is no denying the importance
of our hunting-gatherer past, and it’s explored thoroughly in this key work from
the most influential English-speaking archaeologist of the past 40 years.
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Binford has trawled published ethnography of the 19th and 20th centuries for
data on 339 hunter-gatherer groups and collected ecological information from
1429 “weather stations” around the globe. Having analysed all this into huge
coded tables, he applies the facts, defined as “aspects of reality that have an
existence that is independent of the observer”, to an understanding of the past.
He brings a lot of hard-won experience to the task. Having spent much of his
career in the field with, for example, Alaskan Nunamiut or Alyawara Australians,
the numeric data are illuminated by an understanding of real lives. Insights
tumble from the pages.
The result is a powerful success, but it’s achieved almost in spite of the
author. Binford emphasises his credentials as scientist and academic by saying
that “theory building is not for sissies”. But he protests too much. The
academic battle between the “scientific archaeologists” of the 1960s and
contemporary theorists who “accommodate the world … to … prior beliefs
… consistent with some broader moral or political philosophy”, is largely over.
The irony is that in Constructing Frames of Reference, Binford advances
both our understanding of our ancestors, and the armoury of intellectual tools
we need to reach them.
There are other problems. Superficially, the book seems to be a muddle.
Obfuscatory English contradicts his strange claim that clear prose would inhibit
his readers’ understanding. He stresses the hard, scientific nature of his
research, and marshals 150-odd diagrams. The data cry out for multivariate
analysis, yet we get two-dimensional graphs overlaid with interpretations that
sometimes blatantly misrepresent the actual patterns revealed.
His essential point is that to know how hunter-gatherer societies change, not
least into food-producing economies, we must follow their complete history and
begin at the beginning. This is a simple assertion, but it has profound
implications. What archaeologists present as a prelude to the real business of
civilisations was a world as diverse as anything that followed.
“Hunter-gatherer” is not a condition, but a blanket term for a great variety
of states affected by climate, geography, ecology, history and other people.
Binford identifies “packing” as the key factor, a concept that embraces
population size, space and food-collecting range. As populations grow, people
hunt fewer large animals, move less and complicate society. What happens depends
on chance local factors. People might do things that lead to agriculture (with
diminishing resources, if the climate does not allow fish storage they might
start harvesting plant seeds.)
Binford’s gift to us is his prodigious number of testable hypotheses that
will focus archaeologists on ancient hunter-gatherers in the context of a rich
global perspective. Just don’t expect an easy read.