Issue 5

Anthropology Gets Physical (& Biological)

August 2011

Poster child for the synergy between culture and biology: the opposable thumb.  Photo: Ryan Anderson, 2011.

~ Contents ~

Introduction: The anthropological clash
Ryan Anderson

Biocultural Bodies and the Anatomy of Controversy
Kristina Killgrove

Biological anthropology: providing the historical context for all your anthropological questions
Kristi Lewton

The Role of a Biological Perspective
Britteny Howell

Blurring the Lines: Ethnoprimatology in Anthropology
Amanda L. Ellwanger

Primatology as Anthropology
Nicholas Ellwanger

Bones of Study: The Bioarchaeology Perspective
Erin Blankenship-Sefczek

Selected References for Further Reading in Biological Anthropology
Britteny Howell

Introduction: The anthropological clash

Since I am in the middle of a road trip across the country (and since my hotel check-out time is looming oh so near), I am going to keep this one short.  Ya, I know all about the clashes between the different sub-fields of anthropology.  I have heard all about the histories of the departmental split at Stanford, and how biological anthropologists, linguistic anthros, archaeologists, and cultural anthropologists sometimes just can't seem to get along.  Some of the biggest divisions and clashes--whether philosophical, methodological, or even personal--exist between cultural anthropologists and biological anthropologists.  I understand the arguments between these two children of anthropological thought, but I have never really felt that they were so insurmountable as to warrant outright disciplinary meltdowns.  Some folks seem to argue that biological and cultural anthropology have certain irreconcilable differences, and that they therefore belong in completely different spheres.  But I don't buy it.  Maybe it's because of the fact that I was trained in more than one four-field program, but I really do not see the need (or the use) for all of the discord between the different anthropological perspectives and approaches.  In fact, I still think that having all of these perspectives is incredibly valuable--and productive.

Now, don't read me wrong.  I am not saying that there are no differences between cultural, biological, archaeological, and linguistic anthropology.  There are plenty of differences, and this is precisely why there is so much potential for conversation, collaboration, and dialog.  Sometimes it's good to look at things in a completely different manner of perspective.  Productive collaboration and dialog can indeed come from very different--and even competing--perspectives.  While the majority of my own training has been in cultural anthropology (with archaeology coming in second), I have always gained immensely from keeping up with what's going on in the other territories of anthropology.  I think it's pretty fascinating to see how different anthropologists approach similar or overlapping problems.  Being open to different ways of looking at and thinking about human behavior has immense benefits. 

Granted, I am coming from from a particular US-based, four-field perspective.  In other parts of the globe, what I would call sub-fields of anthropology are arranged in some pretty different ways.  But my argument still stands: even if all of the fields of anthropology are considered completely different disciplines, I still think there is plenty of room for synergistic collaboration.  Does this mean that all anthropologists need to sit around a campfire and start singing sappy songs together?  Nope.  My argument is that actually listening to one another--and taking the time to really understand different perspectives and arguments--would be a lot more interesting than maintaining personal and academic divisions based upon self-imposed disciplinary boundaries.  Even more importantly, creative, productive dialog does not require complete agreement.  It can, in fact, benefit tremendously from the knowledge that arises from intersecting--and divergent--points of view.

This issue features essays by Kristina Killgrove, Kristi Lewton, Britteny Howell, Amanda Ellwanger, Nicholas Ellwanger, and Erin Blankenship-Sefczek.  Britteny Howell also put together a good selection of readings in biological anthropology--feel free to add more references in the comments section if you want!  Thanks to all of you for taking part!

Blurring the Lines: Ethnoprimatology in Anthropology

I want to do it all. That is one of the most common phrases I hear in conversation with other anthropologists. The diversity and breadth of research that falls within the disciplinary boundaries is one of the most exciting and simultaneously frustrating aspects about anthropology; it is both liberating and overwhelming. When I completed my undergraduate degree, I wanted to pursue research in four topical areas: primatology, the environment, conservation, and culture. Like so many budding anthropologists I’ve known, I desperately wanted to incorporate all of my interests into one area of research. Although I initially struggled to find a perspective that could encompass my diverse, budding research agenda, eventually I stumbled upon ethnoprimatology.

Ethnoprimatology is a relatively young perspective in comparison to both anthropology and primatology. Although the term ethnoprimatology has only been in use for around fifteen years (Sponsel, 1997), studies under its umbrella have received enormous attention in academic and public discussions, research, publications, and policies. Rejecting a dualistic separation of humans and nature, ethnoprimatology integrates theoretical and applied aspects of primatology through an examination of the diverse connections among humans and nonhuman primates populations as well as possible courses for effective conservation. Through this framework, interactions between humans and nonhuman primates are viewed as interconnected biologically, ecologically, and culturally (for example, see Jones-Engel et al. 2005; Riley 2007; Fuentes, 2010). To explore these intricacies, ethnoprimatologists must blur the lines between subfields by combining methodology and theory from all four areas within anthropology.

Ethnoprimatologists use archaeology to provide a context of time depth to human and nonhuman primate interactions. Evidence shows that humans and nonhuman primates have co-existed sympatrically for hundreds of thousands of years. Archaeological evidence at a Homo erectus hand axe site in Kenya, dating between 400kya to 700kya, indicates the systematic butchering of giant gelada baboons (Theropithecus oswaldi) (Shipman et al., 1981). In Madagascar, intentional cut marks were observed on the long bones of an extinct giant lemur (Paleopropithecus ingens), dated around 2,300 BP, and were found in association with pottery, indicating human occupation (Perez et al., 2005). While most of the archaeological evidence typifies a predator-prey relationship, Goudsmit and Brandon-Jones (2000) describe an Egyptian Baboon Catacomb dated to approximately 400 B.C. At this site, the remains of mummified baboons and macaques were uncovered along with written “monkey obituaries” (115), including one that denotes a monkey oracle. Archaeology can provide evidence of not only sympatry and subsistence, but also of more culturally meaningful relationships between humans and nonhuman primates.

Biological anthropology provides ethnoprimatology with insight on what unites and differentiates the primate order in terms of genetics, diet, behavior, and ecology. In addition to morphological similarities, humans and nonhuman primates share a close genetic makeup. Due to this genetic similarity, humans and nonhuman primates can bi-directionally transmit viruses like Ebola, bacteria like tuberculosis, and protozoans like giardia (Chapman et al. 2005). Opportunities for disease transmission increase when people and primates come in contact due to tourism, hunting, pet ownership, deforestation, and agricultural expansion. Humans and nonhuman primates frequently overlap ecologically in terms of both resource use and competition for space. In some cases, ecological overlap causes conflict between user groups, particularly when nonhuman primates engage in crop raiding (Priston 2005). However, overlap can provide mutual benefit to user groups, as is the case when nonhuman primates disperse the seeds of plants that are economically and culturally important to humans (Lambert 1998).

Research in ethnoprimatology that utilizes cultural and linguistic anthropology demonstrates that nonhuman primates are undeniably important to humans, as evidenced by the special role primates have in folklore, religion, and economic systems. In addition to seed dispersal, some nonhuman primates are actively engaged in economic systems. In Thailand, macaques that are trained to harvest coconuts work more efficiently and safely than their human counterparts (Sponsel et al., 2002). Ethnoprimatological research has revealed complex cosmological beliefs connecting humans and nonhuman primates. For example, the Guajá people of Brazil view howler monkeys (Alouatta belzebul) as both a part of their kinship system but also an important source of dietary nutrition. The Guajá believe that howlers were created from people and a literal translation of the Guajá word for howling monkey means “formerly human.” The monkeys are commonly kept as pets, cared for just like human infants, and are even breastfed by women, which enhances images of female fertility. Although they do not eat pet howlers, the Guajá hunt and consume free-ranging howlers as an act of symbolic endocannibalism, a system in which life forms eat kin-related forms in order to progress to another stage of existence (Cormier, 2003).

By incorporating cultural values of nonhuman primates to people, through an understanding of myth, religion, and worldviews, can contribute to the development of conservation policy (Wolfe and Fuentes, 2007). In Madagascar, for instance, the origin myths of one Malagasy group reveal close relationships between people and two kinds of primates: ring-tailed lemurs (Lemur catta) and Verreaux’s sifaka (Propithecus verreauxi). According to folklore, both species were at one time human and, therefore, it is taboo to harm the primates and would bring bad luck to the hunter (Loudon et al., 2002). Informal institutions driven by taboos or religious tolerance can be effective conservation mechanisms and should be understood and incorporated by policy makers.

Although some traditional attitudes promote tolerance towards nonhuman primates, changing economic, political, and ecological conditions may not preserve these attitudes in the future. Through the use of diverse methodologies, drawing from all four subfields in anthropology and beyond, ethnoprimatology can provide an understanding of how local beliefs and actions are influenced by specific social, political, ecological, and economic contexts. Based on a strong, interdisciplinary foundation, the knowledge gained from this research can aid in developing conservation policy that attends to the needs of both people and primates. Is this charge daunting? Yes, but any anthropologist who has ever wanted to do it all could not ask for a more exhilarating and intriguing challenge.

Amanda L. Ellwanger
Ph.D. Student in Ecological Anthropology
University of Texas at San Antonio

References

Chapman CA, Gillespie TR, and Goldberg TL. 2005. Primates and the Ecology of their Infectious Diseases: How will Anthropogenic Change Affect Host-Parasite Interactions? Evolutionary Anthropology: Issues, News, and Reviews 14(4):134-144.

Cormier LA. 2003. Kinship with Monkeys. New York: Columbia University Press.
Fuentes A. 2010. NATURALCULTURAL ENCOUNTERS IN BALI: Monkeys, Temples, Tourists, and Ethnoprimatology. Cultural Anthropology 25(4):600-624.

Goudsmit J, and Douglas B-J. 2000. Evidence from the Baboon Catacomb in North Saqqara for a West Mediterranean Monkey Trade Route to Ptolemaic Alexandria. The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 86:111-119.

Jones-Engel L, Schillaci M, Engel G, Paputungan U, and Froehlich J. 2005. Characterizing primate pet ownership in Sulawesi: Implications for disease transmission. In: JD P, and J W, editors. Commensalism and conflict: The primate-human interface. Norman: American Society of Primatologists. p 197-221.

Lambert JE. 1998. Primate frugivory in Kibale National Park, Uganda, and its implications for human use of forest resources. African Journal of Ecology 36:234-240.

Loudon JE, Sauther ML, Fish KD, Hunter-Ishikawa M, and Ibrahim YJ. 2002. One reserve, three primates: applying a holistic approach to understand the interconnections among ring-tailed lemurs (Lemur catta), Verreaux's sifaka (Propithecus verreauxi), and humans (Homo sapiens) at Beza Mahafaly Special Reserve, Madagasar. Ecological and Environmental Anthropology 2(2):54-74.

Perez V, Godfrey L, Nowakkemp M, Burney D, Ratsimbazafy J, and Vasey N. 2005. Evidence of early butchery of giant lemurs in Madagascar. Journal of Human Evolution 49(6):722-742.

Priston N. 2005. Crop-raiding by Macaca ochreata brunnescens in Sulawesi: Reality, perceptions, and outcomes for conservation. Cambridge: University of Cambridge.

Riley EP. 2007. The Human/Macaque Interface: Conservation Implications of Current and Future Overlap and Conflict in Lore Lindu National Park, Sulawesi, Indonesia. American Anthropologist 109(3):473-484.

Shipman P, Bosler W, and Davis KL. 1981. Butchering of giant geladas at an Acheulian Site. Current Anthropology 22(3):257-268.

Sponsel LE. 1997. The human niche in Amazonia: Explorations in ethnoprimatology. In: Kinzey WG, editor. New World Primates: Ecology, evolution, and behavior. New York: Aldine de Gruyter. p 143-165.

Sponsel LE, Ruttanadakul N, and Natadecha-Sponsel P. 2002. Monkey Business? The conservation implications of macaque ethnoprimatology in southern Thailand. In: Fuentes A, and Wolfe LD, editors. Primates face to face: The conservation implications of human-nonhuman primate interconnections. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. p 288-309.

Wolfe LD, and Fuentes A. 2007. Ethnoprimatology: Contextualizing human and nonhuman primate interactions. In: Campbell CJ, Fuentes A, MacKinnon KC, Panger M, and Bearder SK, editors. Primates in perspective. New York: Oxford University Press. p 691-700.

Primatology as Anthropology

For many years now, I have spent hours describing to friends and family members why I study primates and why it fits within the field of anthropology. Unfortunately, primatologists have the unenviable task of more eloquently answering the same question when posed during an interview for an academic position. Yet it remains clear that to some anthropologists, both old and young, primatologists are the black sheep of the family. Such is the tenuous position of primate studies within the anthropological view. As scientists who do not directly study humans within the “study of humans”, primatologists must consistently build and maintain the bridge between human/non-human and biological/social sciences. 

Primatological studies traverse a number of other academic disciplines (psychology, zoology, and biology), so what are the ties that bind primatology as an anthropological pursuit? The easy answer is that as members of the taxonomic Order Primates, we are obliged to understand the biological relationships between living and ancestral primates. However, phylogenetic ancestry should not be used as a trump card when asked to describe one’s academic alignment. Similarly, our academic phylogeny should not be solely based on our relationship to physical anthropology. As anthropological primatologists, we have the capability and responsibility of distinguishing ourselves as a nexus of biological and social sciences. 

The likely reason for the persistent questioning of the presence of primatologists within anthropology stems from its historical association with sociobiology during the 1980s and 90s. A lightning rod for post-modern criticism, sociobiology was utilized by primate and human behavioral ecologists to stress a more reductionist view of behavior; the ultimate explanation for behavior was for individuals to reproduce and outcompete their conspecifics. While early descriptions of primate behavior illuminated the evolutionary connections to humanity, a flux of field studies incorporated biological models to explain the variations between species (inter-specific) and theorized how ecological and social factors influenced the evolution of species. As primatological data became more systematic and theory became more complex, its relationship with socio-cultural anthropology became more disparate. The influence of quantitative methodology and application to non-human and human behavioral ecology widened what Peter Rodman (1999) has called the “epistemological abyss” within anthropology departments. These biological models created a rift between sociobiological models of human and non-human behavioral ecology and cultural interpretations of humanity. In the 1980s and 1990s, many American anthropology departments split between cultural and biological sub-disciplines, as socio-cultural anthropologists rejected scientific analysis of humanity as ethnocentric and reductionist. 

Anthropology is founded on a holistic comparative approach, especially cross-cultural variation. This comparative approach allows us to understand our relationship to natural history and the evolutionary foundations of humanity. A comparative approach in primatology can move beyond a reductionist view of species behavior by identifying variations of behavior between populations within a species. While acknowledging the inherent degree of phylogenetic inertia, research has highlighted the great degree and causation of behavioral and ecological flexibility, features so crucial to the evolution of our human ancestors (Strier 2003). This approach negates the view that behavioral variation is simply “noise” and acknowledges it as a foundation of the primate pattern. Behavioral plasticity, especially social and cognitive complexity, is one of the connective threads in which anthropologists view primates. Holistic views of anthropology can incorporate these patterns by stressing primate behavioral and ecological flexibility and its relationship to human cognitive and social capabilities.

One topic of interest is the role of social intelligence, individual decision-making, and behavioral strategies when group membership varies in different populations of the same species. Within primate populations, patterns of group membership vary in space and time, subtly influencing the patterns of social decision-making and resource use. The view of the social organization of a primate group has shifted from a strict group structure to a collective assembly of individuals guided by proximate and ultimate goals. Social dynamics are fluid between generations, and social associations also likely change based on past interactions, kinship relationships, and individual preference. Changes in group size and membership, whether influenced by ecological factors or stochastic chance, provide the opportunity for researchers to model how patterns of individual affiliation, competition, and reproduction. Teasing out how individuals respond to such variation in ecology and demography also acknowledges the importance of cognitive flexibility, social coordination, and cooperation. Patterns of primate cognition highlight these capabilities and should be seen as paramount in understanding patterns of intra-specific behavioral variation. Evaluating patterns of theory of mind, problem solving, ecological knowledge, and even social “fairness” have pushed the borders of what it means to be human. While the majority of these studies highly ape cognition, social learning in capuchins (Perry 2006) and social knowledge in baboons (Cheney and Seyfarth 2007) highlight the impressive evolution of cognition and flexibility within anthropoids.

As anthropology stresses the significance of cultural adaptation and social flexibility, the discipline should embrace the phylogenetic context of human behavior. Primate flexibility and social complexity represents a significant ancestral state of hominin evolution. Primatologist Linda Fedigan (2000) stresses the “four Cs” that unite all anthropologists: complexity, comparison, cross-discipline, and conservation. Highlighting the comparative evolutionary patterns of primate behavior, we stand to gain an enlightened sense of appreciation for the human condition. We may become stronger as a discipline for engaging each other in such comparisons. There are certainly tremendous differences between humans and our non-human primate ancestors, but placing greater significance on primate complexity and evolutionary relevance promotes the comparative drive that has historically stimulated anthropological thought.

Nicolas Ellwanger

References

Cheney D and Seyfarth R. 2007. Baboon Metaphysics: The Evolution of a Social Mind. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

Fedigan L. 2000. A View on the Science: Physical Anthropology at the Millennium. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 113:451-454.

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Rodman P. 1999. Whither Primatology? The Place of Primates in Contemporary Anthropology. Annual Review of Anthropology 28:311-339.

Strier K. 2003. Primate Behavioral Ecology: From Ethnography to Ethology and Back. American Anthropologist 105:16-27.

Selected References for Further Reading in Biological Anthropology

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1983 Functional Consequences of Malnutrition for Human Populations: A Comment. The Journal of Interdisciplinary History 14(2):409-411.

Stinson, Sara
1992 Nutritional Adaptation. Annual Review of Anthropology 21:143-170.

Sue Lieberman, L.
2002 Personal Perspectives and Contemporary Trends in Nutritional Anthropology. Appetite 38(1):77-78.

Ubelaker, Douglas H., and Linda A. Newson
2002 Patterns of Health and Nutrition in Prehistoric and Historic Ecuador. In The Backbone of History: Health and Nutrition in the Western Hemisphere. R.H. Steckel, ed. Pp. 343-375. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Usfar, A. A., et al.
2010 Obesity as a Poverty-Related Emerging Nutrition Problem: The Case of Indonesia. Obesity Reviews 11(12):924-928.

Waterlow, J.C.
1990 Nutritional Adaptation in Man: General Introduction and Concepts. American Journal of Clinical Nutrition 51:259-263.

Walker, Phillip L., and Russell Thornton
2002 Health, Nutrition, and Demographic Change in Native California. In The Backbone of History: Health and Nutrition in the Western Hemisphere. R.H. Steckel, ed. Pp. 506-523. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Willett, Walter
1998 Nutritional Epidemiology. New York: Oxford University Press.

The Role of a Biological Perspective

To me, the question of what a biological perspective adds to anthropology is an awkward one; anthropology has always been inherently biological. As the product of the Enlightenment’s zeal for natural history and classifying everything under the sun, anthropology’s main and initial goal was to classify the “human primitives” on earth - to catalog and study non-western people. Some of the earliest concerns of anthropology were regarding our evolutionary lineage and physical variation in humans. More sophisticated versions of these and other biological questions continue to drive investigators in this discipline toward very exciting research. Today, the main goals of biological anthropology are to understand contemporary human variation, the ancestry of human and non-human primate species, and the intersection between biology and culture. However, a question I find more interesting for this issue is why the four sub-fields of American anthropology have become so divided. And, in this division, why has biological anthropology gotten such a bad rap?

It seems that in many anthropology programs (with notable exceptions such as University of Tennessee, University of Michigan, and others), biological anthropology is one of the outcast sub-fields, relegated to the shadow of the anthropological superstars, archaeology and cultural anthropology. Some departments that do hang on to their biological sub-field seem to experience confusion or animosity towards the biological perspective. It seems that students (and maybe even faculty) in anthropology departments are reluctant to utilize a biological perspective or take biological anthropology courses because it is seemingly irrelevant to their research questions on culture, identity, or health. Some researchers even seem hostile to a biological approach, assuming that we are trying to explain away all human cultural variation or health problems in terms of biological determinants. For the record, biological anthropologists are not all sociobiologists and we do recognize a political-economic approach (see Goodman & Leatherman 1998; Schell et al. 2007)!

However, it seems to many students that the field of anthropology has somehow developed beyond the need to understand human biological variation, which might be best left to geneticists. This situation seems to stem from general Western thought that divides the sociocultural from the biophysical (Ingold 2001) and the pioneering anthropological work of Franz Boas. As anthropologists had set out to distinguish culture from race, Boas declared that “any attempt to explain cultural form on a purely biological basis is doomed to failure” (Boas 1940: 1656). Of course, Boas was not indicating that biological perspectives should be dismissed entirely, but just that biology could not be the sole lens through which to view human culture. However, this statement seemingly delineated the study of the cultural from the study of the biological. Indeed, early Boasian anthropologists rarely integrated the biological and the cultural into a single synthetic work and this trend has largely continued to today (Borofsky 2002). 

So, back to the question: what does a biological perspective bring to the field of anthropology? Obviously, as a biocultural anthropologist, I think questions about culture, identity, and health cannot possibly be answered without an understanding of how stress, disease, and diet affect our bodies. Of course structural issues are important, those that address how people are able to access healthy lifestyles or not, but we all must also understand how our human biologies are affected by lifestyle and vice versa. 

For example, my own research investigates how individual dietary decision-making both creates identity and has biological consequences. In Appalachia, people often make claims to “comfort food,” “cultural foods,” and “this is how I was raised to eat.” Clearly, people use food to help create their identities in this region. However, these foods affect the biologies of people as high rates of nutrition-related diseases such as obesity, diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, and cancer can attest. Additionally, Alaska Natives (ANs) experience these same issues, although they are manifested differently. ANs have their own ideas about cultural and traditional foods and eating these items is what makes someone a “true” Eskimo. Even as they continue to construct their native identities from what they eat, they are also transitioning to a more Westernized diet. The increasing intake of energy dense, sugary, and fatty foods is contributing to rising rates of those same diseases experienced by Appalachians: obesity, diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, and certain cancers. For me, questions about cultural identity or health in these two disparate regions cannot be answered without investigating diet, which inherently leads to biological questions about health and disease. It is important to note that these research projects are not neglecting a political-economic perspective. Structural issues such as access to healthy foods, rates of poverty, and the factors leading to food insecurity are being investigated within this biocultural approach (for example, see Borré 1991; Crooks 2000; Fazzino & Loring 2009; Hadley et al. 2008).

In short, I think most anthropological questions could be enhanced with a biological perspective or component. Very little about humanity can be studied without understanding how our bodies operate and how our cultural practices interact with our biologies. Additionally, as anthropology and the social sciences continue to come under attack (Mervis 2011), the holism on which our discipline was founded and that continues to make our field unique should not be abandoned now.

Britteny Howell

References

Mervis, Jeffrey. 2011. Social Sciences Face Uphill Battle Proving Their Worth to Congress. Science. Retrieved on 7-10-11 from http://news.sciencemag.org/scienceinsider/2011/06/social-sciences-face-uphill-battle.html.

Boas, Franz. 1940. Race, Language, and Culture. New York: Free Press.

Borofsky, Robert. 2002. The Four Subfields: Anthropologists as Mythmakers. American Anthropologist 104(2):463-480.

Borré, Kristen. 1991. Seal Blood, Inuit Blood, and Diet: A Biocultural Model of Physiology and Cultural Identity. Medical Anthropology Quarterly 5(1):48-62.

Crooks, Deborah L. 2000. Food Consumption, Activity, and Overweight among Elementary School Children in an Appalachian Kentucky Community. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 112(2):159-70.

Fazzino, David V., and Philip A. Loring. 2009. From Crisis to Cumulative Effects: Food Security Challenges in Alaska. NAPA Bulletin 32(152-177).

Goodman, Alan H. and Thomas L. Leatherman (eds.). 1998. Building a New Biocultural Synthesis: Political-Economic Perspectives on Human Biology. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

Hadley, Craig, et al. 2008. Gender Bias in the Food Insecurity Experience of Ethiopian Adolescents. Social Science & Medicine 66(2):427-438.

Ingold, Tim. 2001. From Complementarity to Obviation: On Dissolving the Boundaries between Social and Biological Anthropology, Archaeology, and Psychology. In S. Oyama, P.E. Griffiths, and R.D. Gray Cycles of Contingency: Developmental Systems and Evolution. Pp 255- 280. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Schell, Lawrence M., et al. 2007. Advancing Biocultural Models by Working with Communities: A Partnership Approach. American Journal of Human Biology 19:511-524.

Biocultural Bodies and the Anatomy of Controversy

Why should we study the dead...?

This question has been posed to me numerous times in slightly different ways by students, interviewers, and granting agencies. Sometimes I answer that it’s important to listen closely to what the dead are telling us about their lives; their experiences in a remote time and in a foreign culture can give us insight into what a past civilization was really like. But other times I respond that it’s important to pay attention to what the dead are telling us about our own lives; the way that we use the dead to bolster or dismantle the ideology of our contemporary societies throws into stark relief the limits to our understanding of the past.

Our nature as humans is to find patterns and create categories to make sense of our world. This cognitive ability - and the language to express it - lets us process information and learn incredibly quickly. Humankind has probably always classified one another by our outward appearance - our phenotypes, which give us our hair form, eye color, nose shape, skin color, height, and so on. These categories we create are based on a biological reality, but they’re not immutable: in different times, in different places, in different cultures, varying combinations of these traits are used to categorize people into different groups.

It can be difficult to separate yourself from the age in which you live and to recognize that a category as seemingly obvious, real, and inherent as race is no more than a cultural construct, an organizing principle created by humans to serve a particular purpose. But in doing so, we can arrive at one of the fundamental contributions of today’s biological anthropology: the ability to decouple race and ancestry and to see how societies use ancient bodies to support multiple, often conflicting claims to the past.

Was Cleopatra Black?

For the past five years, Zahi Hawass has been leading the charge in the search for the tomb of Cleopatra, making news in National Geographic annually [1], [2], [3], but even with his recent dismissal as antiquities minister of Egypt [4], excavations are likely to continue. Western culture is fascinated by the powerful female pharaoh, whose affairs with Julius Caesar and Mark Antony were great fodder for ancient gossip. This modern obsession with Cleopatra extends to her physical being, most notably to the question of her race [5], [6]: Was she a black ruler of Egypt, or did her ancestry as a Ptolemy mean she was white like her Macedonian relatives?

Bust of Cleopatra VII Philopatror

There is no solid evidence of who Cleopatra’s mother was. She was likely related to Cleopatra’s father, Ptolemy XII Auletes, and therefore biologically similar, but she also could have been any elite woman from Greece, Libya, Nubia, Asia Minor, or Egypt, as the Ptolemaic kingdom was quite a melting pot. If we go back another generation, Cleopatra’s paternal grandfather was Ptolemy IX, but her grandmother was probably an outsider. Cleopatra’s ancestry is unclear, but she was at least one-quarter Macedonian. Alexander the Great and other Macedonians are known for their fair hair, but historical records reveal that Egyptians showed a diverse range of physical traits: from red hair and light skin to curly hair and dark skin.

The question of whether Cleopatra was black, though, is anachronistic and irrelevant to history because skin color was not the primary ingredient in the racial categories of Greece and Egypt as it is in today’s America. Yet the question of Cleopatra’s race resonates with us today because she was an exotic Eastern female ruler in a time when the Western world was run by men and histories were written by the victors. We can see some parallels with African-American history, which involved denying slaves their human rights, their heritage, and their history. It may not be surprising, then, that Cleopatra, who ruled over one of the most powerful civilizations in the world, has been viewed by the African-American community as a heroine of black culture and a symbol of black history [7], a counterpoint to mainstream American culture, which historically tends to diminish or minimize the accomplishments of blacks.

As we continue to watch how Egypt deals with its recent revolution [8], we can also see what history means to the Egyptian people. Hawass is leaving amidst charges that he cares more about Egypt’s past than about the present Egyptians [9], that he and Mubarak were loathe to break with a history of dynastic rulers and autocratic regimes. Contemporary Egyptians’ struggle for power and representation may eventually yield a new understanding of their past.

Are the Xinjiang (Tarim) Mummies White?

In far western China, the Tarim Basin, a 350,000-square-mile desert [10], is sparsely settled by the Uyghur people [11]. At the beginning of the 20th century, European explorers arrived in western China, searching for artifacts to sell on the growing antiquities market. Instead, they found numerous desiccated bodies - mummies [12] - that were preserved by burial in salt-rich soil. Even more remarkable, though, was that they were quite tall, with angular eye orbits and high, narrow noses - what forensic anthropologists would call a “Caucasoid” [13] type. Some of the mummies still had skin, and many of them had curly hair ranging in color from blond to red to dark brown, quite unlike the straight, black hair we see in most people from eastern China today. DNA analysis reveals that the Basin was a melting pot, continually inhabited from 2000-300 BC by people with ancestors from Europe, Mesopotamia, and the Indus Valley [14].

Loulan Beauty.

Modern Uyghur woman.

Enter the contemporary Uyghurs. The ancestors of these people were likely European in origin and arrived in the Tarim Basin via Mongolia around 900 AD, long after the mummies had settled the area. In spite of the gap in chronology and the fact that DNA analysis doesn’t directly link them to the mummies, the Uyghur people claim the mummies as their ancestors. More importantly, the Uyghur nationalist movement has used the “Caucasoid” appearance of the mummies to claim that the people in the area came from the West rather than the East, in support of their historical claims to the land in the Tarim Basin [15], [16]. The Xinjiang region of China is massive - and also rich in oil and natural gas. Uyghurs want to assert control over their heritage and this region in order to gain economic benefit from what they feel is their rightful land [17].

The controversy over the mummies became known more widely in the U.S. this past spring. A traveling exhibit of Silk Road artifacts, including two of the mummies, had come to California and to Texas. It was slated for the University of Pennsylvania Museum [18], but museum officials reported that China requested all of the artifacts be removed [19], [20]. The Chinese Embassy in D.C. said that the exhibit simply hadn’t been approved for display at U Penn, but this statement contradicted an earlier report that approval had been granted a year prior. Within a week’s time, however, the entire exhibit was approved to be shown at U Penn, after numerous high-level talks between the U.S. and China, but the length of the exhibit was shortened and the mummies were quickly removed [20]. Many guessed that China decided to allow the mummies be shown in order to avoid further difficulties in diplomatic relations. More saliently, the speculation is that China didn’t want much international attention accorded to the mummies, fearing that if attention were drawn to the resemblance between the mummies and modern-day Uyghurs, even without conclusive DNA evidence, China may lose control over the Xinjiang region [21], [22], [23].

The Xinjiang or Tarim mummies are fascinating biological specimens in and of themselves, and with modern technology we can tease out the various populational contributions to their DNA, explaining how their phenotypes came to be. But the case of the mummies is also important from an anthropological perspective, as the mummies’ appearance and their DNA are being used by two different sides of a land rights claim.

… To learn about the living.

As humans, we classify one another on a daily basis in order to make sense of social relationships, and we also take pains to present ourselves as members of a group. We dress in a certain way, modify our bodies to different extents, participate in various activities, bury our deceased in a specific manner. These methods of cultural presentation can be read from our bodies and are just as important as our genetic makeup. Race, ancestry, ethnicity, and identity are therefore key concepts not just in cultural anthropology but also in biological anthropology. The dead can whisper the secrets of their lives from beyond the grave, but they can also hold up a mirror to modern society. Many biological anthropologists are captivated by this reflection, and contemporary research in the field has been strengthened by this biocultural perspective.

Kristina Killgrove is a biological anthropologist affiliated with Vanderbilt University and UNC Chapel Hill. Her research focuses primarily on analysis of human skeletal remains from ancient Rome, and she blogs regularly at Powered by Osteons.

Biological anthropology: providing the historical context for all your anthropological questions

All anthropological subfields make important contributions to our defining goal of answering questions about ourselves, but biological anthropology is unique in its ability to reveal our ancient histories. We can all agree that a full and nuanced understanding of any anthropological issue requires an understanding of its historical context. In the case of humans as biological organisms, a biological historical perspective is needed to achieve this because “nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution” (Dobzhansky, 1964 p. 449).

For example, a topic of interest to all anthropologists is the wide diversity of human social and mating systems. Human mating systems run the gamut from polygynous to polyandrous to monogamous. In light of this diversity, it at first seems unlikely that there could be any unifying characteristics of human mating systems. However, one characteristic that might link all human societies is cooperative breeding. The human life history schedule—an average inter-birth interval of 3.5 years combined with a much longer period of nutritional dependency—results in mothers having more than one dependent offspring at a time. As a result, many have suggested that the work of successfully raising multiple, dependent offspring is more than a mother can handle alone, and that cooperative rearing is a necessity for successful human reproduction. Biological anthropology offers both a historical perspective and a comparative approach that can assess whether humans, as a species, can be characterized as cooperative breeders.

Humans use myriad techniques to garner support for themselves and their dependent offspring; can we really be uniformly defined as cooperative breeders? Perhaps. Cooperative breeding in other animals is also defined variably and is achieved by a variety of different mechanisms from hormonal (e.g., Saltzman et al., 2000) to behavioral (e.g., Sparkman et al., 2011). Despite this variation in expression and proximate causation, cooperative breeders are generally characterized by delayed reproduction compared to their close relatives (e.g., Clutton-Brock et al., 1998, meerkats; Armitage, 1999, marmots; Saltzman et al., 2000, marmosets; Sparkman et al., 2011, wolves).

If delayed reproduction is an indicator of a cooperative breeding system, do humans bear this hallmark? Compared to other apes, humans are characterized by early weaning, a long childhood, late age at first reproduction, and short inter-birth intervals. In modern human subsistence societies, weaning occurs around age 3, childhood persists until around age 12, the age at first reproduction is around 19, and the interval between births is about 3.5 years. When we compare this pattern of developmental timing to that of our closest relatives, the chimpanzees, we see that humans do indeed exhibit delayed reproductive maturation. Despite the fact that chimpanzees don’t wean until around age 5 and have a slower inter-birth interval than humans of about 5.5 years, they reach reproductive age much earlier than humans, at about 14 (chimpanzee and human hunter-gatherer data summarized in Kaplan et al., 2000). In sum, even though modern humans wean early and can reproduce quickly once we begin our reproductive careers, we have a prolonged childhood and adolescence, and do not begin reproducing until relatively late in life. These data, coupled with the ethnographic data on non-maternal care of juveniles in human populations (summarized in Kramer, 2010) strongly support the idea that humans are cooperative breeders.

This prompts an additional question: how long have humans been cooperative breeders? Is this characteristic of the human mating system a recent, very modern development? Or was it something we shared with all of our fossil relatives? The answers to these questions can be gleaned from fossil teeth. Dental enamel is the hardest material in the body and mostly comprises inorganic mineral. As a result, teeth preserve extraordinarily well and are abundant in the fossil record. In addition, enamel is laid down on a circadian cycle, which can be quantified in histological specimens, and the day of birth is marked by a visible line in the enamel. As a result, an examination of an individual’s teeth can conclusively establish his or her chronological age at death (among other things). Furthermore, molar eruption roughly coincides with major somatic developmental landmarks such as the cessation of brain growth (first molar, or M1, eruption), the onset of adolescence (M2 eruption), and adulthood/reproductive maturity (M3 eruption).Therefore, given a sufficient sample of individuals at different ages of death, these dental characteristics can provide information on the rate and timing of tooth eruption and coincident growth rates and life history schedules of fossil species.

While inferring life history schedules in fossil taxa is still a challenge (due to the sampling issues inherent in small sample sizes), based on the currently available data, we can draw some general conclusions about the developmental timing of our hominin ancestors and what this might mean about their life histories. A comparison of growth rates derived from dental data of modern humans, extant non-human apes, and fossil hominins reveals that the modern human pattern of growth and development did not characterize early genus Homo. Homo erectus, a species that skeletally resembles modern humans more than any earlier hominins (i.e., it had modern body proportions, a larger brain, and smaller teeth than previous taxa), had a first molar eruption a little bit later than a chimpanzee (chimpanzee 3-4 yr, H. erectus ~4.5 yr), but still earlier than modern H. sapiens (~6 yr). Similarly, the M2 erupted earlier than modern humans (one Homo erectus specimen yields an M2 eruption age of ~8 years, modern H. sapiens ~12 yr). In other words, H. erectus seems to have been more chimpanzee-like in its rate and timing of growth, reaching adulthood relatively earlier than H. sapiens. There are conflicting reports on the dental development of Neandertals, but the most recent research suggests that H. neanderthalensis, which overlapped temporally with H. sapiens and lived until relatively recently (about 30,000 years ago), also matured relatively slower than earlier hominin species, and may have reached adulthood faster than modern humans. Although it is based on a just a few specimens, it appears that Neandertal M1s erupt on the lower end of the modern human spectrum (≤ 6 yr), and the M2s seem to erupt around 7-10 years (Smith et al., 2010). In contrast, fossil specimens of H. sapiens seem to show the same pattern of dental development as contemporary H. sapiens. Altogether, these data suggest that the pattern of delayed reproduction of modern humans originated with us, and not earlier in our evolutionary history.

So, are humans cooperative breeders? The demographic data suggest that we are. The paleoanthropological data further suggest that our modern human pattern of life history arose with our species and did not characterize our closest fossil relatives. Of course, more fossils are needed to refine the estimates of fossil hominin life history schedules, but currently available evidence suggests that cooperative breeding may be a unifying hallmark of our widely varying modern human mating systems, that this has always been since the advent of our species approximately 200,000 years ago, and that it may have distinguished us from our hominin ancestors.

Kristi Lewton

References

Armitage KB. 1999. Evolution of sociality in marmots. J Mammal 80:1-10.

Clutton-Brock, T.H., Gaynor, D., Kansky, R., MacColl, A.D.C., McIlrath, G., Chadwick, P., Brotherton, P.N.M., O’Riain, J.M., Manser, M. and Skinner, J.D. 1998. Costs of cooperative behaviour in suricates (Suricata suricatta). Proc R Soc Lond B 265: 185-190.

Dobzhansky T. 1964. Biology, molecular and organismic. Am Zool 4:443-452.

Kaplan H, Hill K, Lancaster J, Hurtado AM. 2000. A theory of human life history evolution: diet, intelligence, and longevity. Evol Anthropol 9:156-185

Kramer KL. 2010. Cooperative breeding and its significance to the demographic success of humans. Annu Rev Anthropol 39:417-436; 10.1146/annurev.anthro.012809.105054

Saltzman W, Prudom SL, Schultz-Darken NJ, Abbott DH. 2000. Reduced adrenocortical responsiveness to adrenocorticotropic hormone (ACTH) in socially subordinate female marmoset monkeys. Psychoneuroendocrinology 25:463-477.

Smith TM, Tafforeau P, Reid DJ, Pouech J, Lazzari V, Zermeno JP, Guatelli-Steinberg D, Olejniczak AJ, Hoffman A, Radovcić J, Makaremi M, Toussaint M, Stringer C, and Hublin J-J. 2010. Dental evidence for ontogenetic differences between modern humans and Neanderthals. P Natl Acad Sci 107(49):20923-20928; doi:10.1073/pnas.1010906107

Sparkman AM, Adams JR, Steury TD, Waits LP, Murray DL. 2011. Direct fitness benefits of delayed dispersal in the cooperatively breeding red wolf (Canis rufus). Behav Ecol 22:199-205; doi: 10.1093/beheco/arq194

Bones of Study: The Bioarchaeology Perspective

A beginning anthropology student learns that anthropology is “the study of humankind, viewed from the perspective of all people and all times” --Clark Spencer Larsen, Our Origins. This is an apt definition because it includes the fact that everyone, even a group of anthropologists, have different perspectives to bring to the study of humans. It also means that anthropology incorporates a broad spectrum of approaches. This is where the four sub-disciplines of anthropology (linguistic, archaeology, cultural, and biological) come into play. Although they are all part of the same overarching discipline and, therefore, overlap with each other, the unique perspective of each gives a richness to the study of humankind that would be otherwise unattainable. I am a biological anthropologist with a specialty in bioarchaeology (studying human remains in the archaeological context) and my interpretations come from this portion of the sub-discipline which is so close to my heart.

The human skeleton has so much to say, we need only to listen. Where biological anthropology, specifically bioarchaeology, thrives is in telling the story of an individual. With the incorporation of modern technological advances into the traditional methods of study of human remains we have an even greater opportunity to understand past peoples. Through methods such as stable isotope analysis, teeth cementum annulation, and 3D imaging, we are able to not only look at the changes in health, but also more accurately assess age and pathological changes, dietary shifts, and show population movement over time. All this determined from the individuals who actually lived during the time period being assessed. Thus, allowing these same individuals the ability to add their perspective to the study.

Bioarchaeology adds the human presence in a way otherwise unavailable in the archaeological context. This becomes especially important when you consider the amount of social complexity found within a society. Though there may be elites, non-elites, and sometimes a middle class in past societies, none of these are homologous within themselves, and rarely are they mutually exclusive. A lot can be understood by the writings, midden heaps, and differential architecture, to be sure, but without a look at the biology, the subtleties would be lost. By this I mean that the differences in access to resources between social strata would not necessarily be found. The inequalities between members of the same social group, and the small differences between communities less than 100km apart would be lost. These small, seemingly trivial, differences add a wealth of information about the social construction, social group maintenance, and trade relationships of the individuals taking part in the culture. Knowing the status and diet of an individual allows us to determine the availability and social significance place on certain food items, thus bolstering the archaeological interpretations. And it is wise to remember what Winston Churchill meant when he said “history will be kind to me, for I intend to write it.”

Within biological anthropology today, there is a strong focus on teasing out how populations are connected despite their seemingly inherent biological differences. Part of this is in order to understand social structure, and social change. This is particularly true with regards to human skeletal remains found within the archaeological record. When talking about this past context, it is easy to get caught up in the structures, the writings, and the artifacts left behind. Ethnographic data allows for some understanding of past peoples, but subtle generational changes in social organization, or ritual practices, which cause a re-distribution of resources, can greatly impact the biology and in very quick succession. Therefore, the most accurate way to understand the biology of people from a given time period is to study them directly through an analysis of their skeltons. 

Bioarchaeology allows for these individuals to be heard and for their life histories to be told. It gives an understanding of an individual’s complex life story, rather than categorically grouping them into a lifestyle pattern. Bioarchaeology allows us to know what kinds of foods they ate and how consumption patterns changed over time for them and their descendants. It allows for an assessment of the distribution of resources and whether or not their children and their children’s children had access to a different diet and consequently different health. We can attempt to answer questions pertaining to social inequality, and the amount of difficulty with which it took to survive into adulthood. Each of these points allows us to answer the “What” found within the sub-discipline of biological anthropology, however, the reasons “Why” each of these points are important stems from anthropological theory. Knowing to ask “Why” for these specific points is where the bioarchaeology perspective becomes so important, and also allows for a singular study to be put into the broad framework of anthropology.

Without the biological perspective, an understanding of these elements of human societies would not be part of anthropology. Having said that, if you were to remove biological anthropology from the anthropological lens, it would loose the importance of understanding the individual to better comprehend the complexity of the human species as a whole. For this reason, I truly believe that I am an anthropologist first, and a specialist in my sub-discipline second. Knowing the merits of your sub-discipline is important, but knowing how to fit them into the framework of better understanding humankind is even more so.

Erin Blankenship-Sefczek