2 Preludes to Power in the Highland Late Preceramic Period

Mark Aldenderfer University of California, Santa Barbara

ABSTRACT Although the dramatic differences in cultural complexity between the Pacic littoral cultures and those in the Andean highlands during the Late Preceramic Period have long been known, until recently explanations for them have not been forthcoming. In part, this has been because of shortcomings of empirical data from the highlands as well as a general lack of systematic attempts to look at the nature and origins of persistent leadership strategies and how these might be dened in the Andes. This chapter reviews the ethnographic data on incipient forms of persistent leadership, examines the archaeological record of the Late Preceramic in the highlands for signs of it, and suggests potential explanations for why persistent leadership is uncommon. Those forms of leadership that do appear in the Late Preceramic appear to be based on lineage principles and the control of religious beliefs through ritual practice and are found in ecological contexts of relative resource abundance. Keywords: Late Preceramic, Andean highlands, leadership, inequality

ver the past 30 years, archaeologists working on the highland Late Preceramic have made substantial advances in our knowledge of that crucial time period. We now have more secure chronologies, more abundant regionalscale data on Preceramic settlement patterns, a more complete understanding of the relationship between climatic and cultural change, and better insight into the process by which indigenous plants and animals were domesticated (Aldenderfer in press b). However, it remains the case that until recently, comparatively little attention has been paid to the development of models and explanations of societal transformations, especially those concerned with the origins of social inequality and the appearance of more complex forms of political and economic institutions. In great part, this can be explained simply by noting that the data required to build these models have only been obtained recently. Another explanation, however, is that there is in fact relatively little complexity to explain in the highland Late Preceramic, especially when compared with contemporaneous developments on the Pacific littoral. The dating of Caral in the Supe Valley has if anything strengthened the impression that the highlands lag far behind the coast in the development of complex social institutions (Haas et al., this volume; Shady

Solis et al. 2001). Indeed, as Moore (1996) has shown in his discussion of Andean architecture, Late Preceramic public architecture on the coast is said to reflect an ethos of social control that is commonly associated with societies characterized by strong hierarchies with distinct sets of privileges and prerogatives or, in other words, an elite social class. Shady Solis et al. (2001:726) extend this and argue that the size and number of mounds at Caral and other similar coastal sites of the same period suggest a social order based on a high level of centralized control and decision-making. Although our sample of highland regions is far from complete, there is nothing known in them that matches the scale of construction and the inferred level of social complexity of the massive Late Preceramic coastal centers until after 1300 B.C. at sites such as Chiripa, Chavn de Huntar, and Pukara (Beck 2001; Hastorf 1999). If this characterization is accurate, we should be looking for preludes to power in the highland Late Preceramic rather than evidence for the dramatically asymmetrical social relationships that are apparent on the littoral. By preludes, I mean those strategies employed by individuals or larger social formations that provide opportunities for the development of social asymmetries but that are not immediately

Archaeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association, Vol. 14, pp. 1335, ISBN 1-931303-20-7. C 2005 by the American Anthropological Association. All rights reserved. Permissions to photocopy or reproduce article content via www.ucpress.edu/journals/rights.htm.

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persistent or indicative of a significant level of social control by that individual or group over others. This conception of preludes acknowledges that all societies, even those labeled as egalitarian, are permeated by social asymmetries based on age or generation, kinship, gender, or valued ability (Flanagan 1989) and that under certain combinations of circumstances, individuals may be able to use these asymmetries to further their self-interest. I have deliberately chosen the term preludes in contrast to Haydens (1995) use of pathways to avoid any suggestion that a prelude necessarily develops into a power relationship that can be placed into a typological scheme or a widely applicable general model. Indeed, one of the empirical challenges of this line of inquiry is to identify which strategies lead to persistent leadership under which constellations of contextual factors (Drennan 1996). The search for explanations of the processes by which these transient asymmetries become persistent and, once persistent, how they form the basis of a more pervasive social control is, of course, one of the major themes of modern anthropology. My goal in this chapter is more humble and is directed at the identification of the material indicators of the social processes leading to these asymmetries that may have been operative in the highland Late Preceramic Period. To achieve this, I will discuss from a theoretical perspective various strategies used to exploit inherent inequalities within egalitarian societies, describe the conditions under which such strategies are likely to succeed in becoming persistent, and, finally, review the archaeological evidence of the highland Late Preceramic to evaluate which of these strategies may have been operative. Although chronological schemes vary (see Quilter 1991, for example), for the purposes of this chapter the Late Preceramic in the central Andes ranges from 4800 to 1800 cal B.C. This includes what I call the Terminal Preceramic (30001500 cal B.C.) in the Titicaca Basin (Aldenderfer 2002b).

Leadership in Egalitarian Societies

There are two fundamental strategies of leadership: one based on prestige and the other on dominance. Although these may overlap in some individuals, it is also the case that the two strategies invoke distinct pathways to achieving a leadership role (Henrich and Gil-White 2001). Prestige is high standing achieved through past success, influence, or wealth. High prestige allows individuals to influence others through an inherent characteristic (such as age or gender), successful performance of a valued ability, or, importantly, association with someone who has that ability. In the ethno-

graphies of egalitarian societies, examples of potentially prestigious abilities include hunting success, impressive subsistence work effort, or hunt leadership (Hawkes 1991, 1993; Paine 1971); control of esoteric knowledge (e.g., shamanic power among the Gabrileo; Blackburn 1974; Gayton 1930) or healing skills (e.g., !kia healers and trance dancers among the !Kung; Katz 1976; Wiessner 2002); oratorical talents (e.g., Enga big men; Wiessner and Tumu 1998:260261; Nomolaki chiefs; Goldschmidt 1951); special craft skills (e.g., Chumash canoe makers; Arnold 1992); and skill at handling wealth (Strathern 1971). Perhaps one of the most powerful ways in which prestige leadership operates is through competitive generosity and consequent debt formation strategies (Clark and Blake 1994; Hayden 1995). Best known from the New Guinea highlands (Godelier and Strathern 1991; Strathern 1982), numerous ethnographies have been written about big men and great men who are able to mobilize the labor of both kin and nonkin to support their competitive displays. Although feasts are often the modality by which this generosity is made manifest, gifts of desired objects (often of a sacred or ritual variety), display of the overproduction of subsistence goods, massive bridewealth payments, exchange of women, participation in trade or exchange systems or cycles, and other kinds of payments are also employed. These displays are made under conditions of reciprocity, meaning that the recipients must respond in kind within a reasonable period. If they are unable to do so, this creates debt on their part, which can be repaid by their labor on behalf of the prestigious individual. Failure to repay debt diminishes the debtors prestige and tends to limit his social opportunities. Not only is the debt itself important, but the widespread public acknowledgment of the debt further enhances the prestige of the debt holder. This may serve to attract more followers willing to offer their labor freely so that they may improve their own prestige or obtain other benefits. Prestige leadership tends to be highly situational and does not necessarily carry over into other social domains. However, as many ethnographies also make clear, individuals of high prestige may exert real influence on decisionmaking in other domains because they have earned the right to have their opinions heard. Prestigious individuals often have followers who act to support a potential leader because they see clear benefits in so doing but who are also free to deny them support as situations change unless powerful social norms (such as a prescription requiring the repayment of gifts or benefits from feasts) serve to bind them more tightly to the prestigious leader. Leaders with high prestige who become too proud or seek to extend their influence in ways seen by both followers and others

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as inappropriate are often subjected to ridicule and scorn, which are seen as leveling mechanisms (Lee 1990) or manifestations of reverse dominance hierarchies (Boehm 1999). One-time followers may decamp, leaving the former leader to recoup his prestige through renewed efforts. Leadership based on prestige is fluid, impermanent, and open to challenge and question. Consequently, it is difficult for leaders with high prestige to transfer their influence to individual followers or their children except in very narrow domains (e.g., Enga Kepele ritual specialists; Wiessner and Tumu 1998:204). Leadership through dominance in human societies is achieved primarily by the threat of force or punishment. Hayden (1995:2842) refers to these leaders as despots and notes that the threat of force tends to be external, rather than internal, to the group. That is, potential leaders capitalize on intergroup disputes and offer themselves as protectors, war leaders, or mediators of external disputes. Warfare is endemic in despot communities and potential leaders gain prestige through the mobilization of labor for feasts, both to solidify internal support and to attract potential allies, and for war reparation payments, wherein despots demand and obtain surplus production from followers to settle claims for the deaths of allied warriors and, in some cases, of enemies as well. Ethnographies are replete with examples of despotic leaders who create climates of fear both within and between communities in order to enhance their leadership opportunities. However, fear tends to be a high-cost leadership strategy, and as Hayden (1995:32) and others have remarked, successful despots tend to become skillful orators and speakers, in great part because they must convince reluctant followers to engage in potentially risky activity and to provide labor and food for ceremonial feasts, which often mark the start of hostilities (see also Wiessner and Tumu 1998:252292), as well as convince them to finance reparations. Like leaders who rely on generosity and debt generation, despots find it difficult to transfer their personal influence to followers, kin, or children since so much of their influence is based on their own efforts and personal qualities. However, dominance leadership strategies may also exist within groups, especially if they are relatively large and composed of multiple, often competing, kin groups or lineages. As Chagnon (1979a) has shown, the ability to produce large numbers of offspring provides over time a demographic foundation of potential prestige for an aspiring leader to tap into. Having large numbers of close consanguines willing to cooperate in food production, dispute handling, alliance formation, and raiding is a decided advantage not available in smaller, less effectual groups. Note also that the implicit threat of intragroup violence that can be achieved through these groups may also be convincing to many to become

active followers or to at least remain neutral and cooperate. Among the Yanomamo, for example, Chagnon (1979b) reports that under conditions of intervillage warfare, it is common for large villages composed of multiple lineages to form. These lineages have varying degrees of interrelatedness as a result of extensive intermarriage. Each lineage head tends to be aggressive in positioning himself and his kin group in the most advantageous manner possible vis--vis alliance formation, requirements to contribute to feasts, and other social obligations, a situation that frequently leads to potentially dangerous levels of conflict. The headman of the largest lineage is well positioned based on its demographic strength to have significant influence over decision-making. Chagnon notes that in some instances, these headmen abuse this influence by favoring close kinsmen by, among other things, seizure of women from less powerful lineages and relaxation of punishment for offenses committed by his kin. But since the headmen may also have strong kin ties to other lineages, they, like their New Guinea counterparts, necessarily find themselves acting as mediators in disputes and usually avoid the use of force or its threat in dispute resolution. The combination of lineage, prestige, and consequent influence is one that has implications for the development of persistent leadership. Descent principles mean that the offspring of lineage heads are well positioned to become lineage heads themselves and thus potentially able to move into a leadership role relatively quickly. However, character counts, and whether leadership is achieved by any aspirant depends on his ability to convince others of his right to lead and the willingness of others to grant it. Another problem looms, and that is potential factional competition within large lineages. These factions may promote alternative candidates, and the potential for interlineage strife may weaken a once-dominant group. Thus while descent groups provide a structural basis for persistent leadership, the realities of daily interaction and face-to-face politics offer continual challenges to its establishment. Yet another challenge to the development of persistent rule based on descent within despot communities is the degree to which a climate of constant hostility can be maintained between communities. In the case of the Yanomamo, an alternative for any smaller lineage that finds itself dominated by a larger one is for it to make a long-distance move into a less hostile environment. Chagnon (1979a, 1988, 1997:7481) has documented a number of such moves and notes that these are undertaken with great reluctance and consideration. Removals of this kind weaken the position of the dominant headman and force him to burden subordinate groups still further or press his kinsmen for additional support. This may provide new challenges to his persistent rule.

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However, such moves are often impossible under conditions of regional packing, and under these circumstances the development of persistent leadership becomes more feasible. Wiessner and Tumu (1998:289291) describe the watenge, the Great War leader of the New Guinea highlands. This position was inherited, but this could only be achieved if the son in question was sufficiently accomplished. However, there was a strong expectation that one of the watenges sons or nephews would inherit the watenges position. As Wiessner and Tumu state, What one sees, then, in the context of the Great Wars is the development of inherited social inequalities in response to demands from the people that consistent leadership be instituted in order to provide predictable, established figures behind whom large groups could rally (1998:290291). The watenge is not simply a lineage head; he is the acknowledged leader of a number of lineages or clans who directs the complex Great War arrangements. Since there are few of these leaders, they wield enormous influence, but they are nevertheless aware that while they and their kin may benefit greatly from this position, it is one under constant scrutiny and that right behavior and good performance are necessary to maintain their position despite its inheritance. What can we conclude from this brief review of leadership in egalitarian societies? It is obvious that there are a multiplicity of forms of potential leadership, ranging from the very impermanent and highly situational to the more persistent and relatively permanent. However, no matter what the specific basis for leadership, it is clear that those who aspire to it must be able to mobilize support across other social formations and work consistently and energetically to maintain their position. Another conclusion to draw from this review is that leadership may operate at a multiplicity of levels within a group. That is, individuals may seek prestige on a private basis with others; an individual may act for a family within the framework of a larger descent group or within the context of his valued activity; an individual may act as a leader for an entire descent group; or a combination of these levels may be employed. For the archaeologist, what this means is that there may well be material remains of each of these actions and that it may be difficult or even impossible to unravel the record and make sense of it. Rather than simplicity, then, the archaeological record of early inequality is itself quite complex, and indeed things get much simpler (i.e., easier to understand) when society gets complex and leadership is truly persistent and pervasive. These observations certainly underscore Drennans (1996) concerns about attempting to build a one-size-fits-all model of the emergence of early inequality, and in the spirit of that concern, I now turn to an evaluation of the contexts in which we

might reasonably expect early inequality to emerge and how it might be promoted.

Contexts for the Emergence of Persistent Inequality

Since early inequality may take a bewildering variety of social forms, many of which are invisible or difficult to see archaeologically, a different avenue of approach focuses on the range of contexts in which one can expect persistent inequality to emerge. Not surprisingly, this has been a topic of real interest among archaeologists, since we often have greater success with their identification. For instance, while we may not be able to see debt generation per se, we may be able to determine that it appears only in a limited range of economic and ecological circumstances. One area of broad agreement is apparent: persistent inequality cannot emerge in environments characterized by patchy resource distributions of high interseasonal or interannual variance. This does not mean that certain behaviors that enhance prestige such as showing off hunting prowess (Hawkes 1991) or control of ritual behaviors for personal ends (Aldenderfer 1993) cannot occur. It does mean, however, that potential leaders will find it difficult or impossible to hold competitive feasts and showy displays or prestations of ritual or sacred objects simply because it is difficult to support these ventures under these circumstances. Extra labor cannot be used to substantially increase subsistence production. This also suggests that settlement systems characterized by moderate to high levels of residential mobility are not likely to develop persistent leadership. Likewise, despot communities characterized by extensive warfare with a strongly ritualized component are not expected in highly variable environments. Raiding, and thus war leaders, can certainly occur, but, again, the intensity of warfare is not sufficient to support persistent leadership strategies based on dominance and threat. Most authors now concur that an ecological context of abundance is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for the emergence of persistent inequality. From this perspective, persistent inequality could appear in foraging societies (often labeled complex hunter-gatherers) as well as in those reliant on plant and animal domesticates. Relatively abundant and predictable environments provide the reliability required by potential leaders to create a basis for feasting, gift acquisition and prestation, and other social displays. Beyond this general agreement, however, the roles of other environmental and ecological factors, such as population density, degree of subsistence risk, and circumscription (both social and environmental) are disputed. In part, disagreement over

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the contribution of these factors is driven by differences in theoretical perspectives. Thus, those espousing theories derived from an agency perspective argue that causality in the emergence of persistent leadership is primarily motivated by social concerns, not resource configurations (Clark and Blake 1994:19). In some regions of the world, there is empirical support for this perspective. For instance, Clark and Blake argue for Early Formative Chiapas that persistent inequalities emerged under conditions well below environmental carrying capacity and of relatively low population density. These findings are echoed by Feinman (1991) in highland Oaxaca. And instead of persistent leadership arising as a consequence of environmental stress (i.e., agricultural risk or population pressure) as is postulated in many models of the origins of inequality from processual perspectives (e.g., Price and Brown 1985), it arises instead under conditions of abundance. But there seem to be exceptions to this. Hayden (1996) asserts that in times of environmental stress in groups that have already developed a strong ethos of private ownership of property and resources and have some form of inequality, owners of those resources and properties may be able to augment their prestige and status through overt generosity and manipulation of their good fortune. So while it seems that abundance is very important to this process, responses to stress are more complex and variable. To a number of authors, most notably Hayden (1995:74) and Clark and Blake (1994), the role of circumscription is likewise thought to be unimportant for the emergence of persistent inequality. However, I have argued elsewhere that circumscription can indeed play a significant role in this process. In many processual models, circumscription is seen as a necessary condition for the origins of persistent leadership (Price and Brown 1985) and can either be environmental (Carneiro 1970, 1988) or social (Brown and Price 1985:438) in form. However, these terms say little, and instead I have used elsewhere (Aldenderfer 1993:11) a definition from evolutionary biology that captures the behavioral aspects of circumscription: the net benefit, or relatively lower cost, of remaining in a group for any individual member (Betzig 1986:102). Individuals or families may tolerate increasing inequality because of perceived benefits of so doing or, more often, to avoid some far greater cost. The dilemma of the small Yanomamo lineage being dominated by a larger one is instructive here. The immediate environment is surrounded by hostile neighbors as well as potential allies, but the small lineage is dependent on the will of the dominant lineage for its political decision-making and survival. A local move to another village may well be fatal. The costs of a longdistance move to an unknown area are very high, and while these moves have occurred historically, they are not common. The acquisition and expansion of ritual leadership positions

likewise has occurred under circumscription in a number of simple and complex foraging societies (Aldenderfer 1993). Finally, as Wiessner and Tumu (1998:372) have shown, it is possible to examine the emergence of Great War leadership positions in highland New Guinea as an attempt to define and regularize avenues of both cooperation and competition in a highly circumscribed environment. Therefore, while circumscription may not be a necessary context for the emergence of persistent inequality, it appears to have a causal role in at least some transitions toward it. One conclusion to be drawn from this discussion is that variability in circumstances and possible trajectories to persistent inequality is likely to be the rule, rather than the exception, in prehistory. But this should not be surprising since the origins of persistent rule are to be found in highly fluid, situational consequences that are difficult to model a priori. Instead of a top-down modeling approach, we should instead develop so-called pattern models to explain the emergence of persistent inequality. A pattern model (Kaplan 1964:332335) explains by relating one set of elements with others so that they form a unified whole in a network of objective relations. We may find, for example, that in a particular case study, circumscription, resource stress, and low population density form a causal network for the emergence of inequality, whereas in another we may observe high levels of warfare, no obvious population pressure, and extensive long-distance trade. Depending on the nature of the objective relationships, both these sets of factors may explain the emergence of inequality. Hayden (1995:72) has made a similar point by attempting to define his leadership types (despots, reciprocators, and entrepreneurs) as polythetic sets. I tend to agree but would rather avoid the attempt to essentialize the types and instead focus on the factors and variables observed to make sense of how they articulate. To develop pattern explanations of archaeological trajectories toward persistent inequality, we must combine evidence for potential sources of prestige enhancementage/generation, gender, and valued abilitieswith potential leadership strategiesgenerosity and debt generation and various dominance tacticsand with contextual data on resource configurations, mode of production, population density, and evidence for territoriality, along with specific classes of archaeological datasettlement patterns (degree of mobility), mortuary remains (who is treated how where), warfare (intensity), trade and exchange (what and at what intensity), feasting (presence and intensity), nonresidential architecture (if present and at what scale toward what purpose), and craft specialization. In the following section of this chapter, I shall examine this evidence in a number of archaeological settings in the Andean highlands during the Late Preceramic.

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Persistent Leadership in the Highland Late Preceramic?

The archaeological data requirements necessary to examine the origins and evolutionary trajectory of persistent leadership and social inequality are substantial. Ideally, these data would include settlement pattern surveys, intensive excavations at key sites, and robust and fine-grained chronologies. Sadly, data of this quality and quantity are lacking for most of the highlands during the entire epoch, let alone the Late Preceramic Period (Aldenderfer in press b). With few exceptions, we either have settlement pattern data without much excavation or excavation of key sites with little regional-scale data. Because many of these sites were excavated before the development of much middle-range theory for the identification of the indicators of leadership, it is sometimes difficult to extract these from the excavation reports. Despite this, we can nevertheless examine a number of locations in the highlands to get a sense of whether any kinds of persistent leadership and incipient inequality can be observed (Figure 2.1). These include the Junin puna, Ayacucho Basin, the upper Osmore (Asana) drainage in Moquegua, the Chila and Ilave drainages in the Lake Titicaca Basin, and the central Andean high sierra (including the famous sites of Huaricoto, Kotosh, La Galgada, and Piruru).

Junin Puna The Junin puna has been the focus of intensive archaeological research since the 1970s. John Rick (1980) surveyed the environs of the puna around Lake Junin and has tested and excavated a number of rockshelters, most notably Pachamachay and Panaulauca (Rick and Moore 1999). Danile Lavale et al. (1985) have excavated the nearby shelter of Telarmachay and also conducted limited settlement pattern surveys in a small area around the town of San Pedro de Cajas at the margins of the puna (Lavale and Julien 1975). Finally, Kaulicke (1999) reports on research at Uchumachay, which is located circa 20 kilometers southeast of Pachamachay. What is known of Late Preceramic settlement patterns offers some interesting variability. At Pachamachay, in Phases 35 (dating ca. 50001500 B.C.), settlement was sedentary at the site with a small number of sites in the vicinity used on a logistical basis. Subsistence was focused on the specialized hunting of vicua, and although Rick (1980) acknowledges that their domestication is possible, he argues strongly against it. Although population grew during these phases, population density was apparently very low. Not sur-

prisingly, no clear indicators of persistent leadership are to be found in the assemblages of these phases. Most lithic raw material was local, and no obsidian or other artifacts indicative of long-distance trade were encountered. The situation at Panaulauca (Rick and Moore 1999:271272) is similar. In Phases 45 (dating from 38001620 B.C.) the site apparently becomes more frequently visited and served as a residential base for a sedentary group of specialized vicua hunters. Occupation was apparently not permanent; seven burials were recovered from levels dating to circa 3000 B.C. Rick and Moore (1999:273) suggest these burialswhich have no goods with them, little consistent patterning, and no children presentwere placed in the mouth of the shelter during a brief abandonment of the site. No artifacts of exotic origin were recovered in any of the Late Preceramic deposits and, again, the material evidence argues strongly against any form of persistent leadership being present. Telarmachay and Uchumachay present a somewhat different picture of Late Preceramic lifeways on the Junin puna. At Telarmachay, the Late Preceramic is found in Level IV and ranges from 5000/45003800 B.P. (Lavale et al. 1985:5659), which corresponds roughly to circa 38002200 B.C. Jane Wheeler (1985, 1999) argues that unlike at Pachamachay and Panaulauca, the occupants of the site were probably vicua pastoralists and that the domestication process was probably complete in this part of the puna by 4200 B.C. The site is said to have been occupied during the wet season (DecemberMarch). Level 4 of Uchumachay is said to be contemporary with Level IV at Telarmachay and likewise reflects a pattern of animal domestication and more temporary residence (Kaulicke 1999:320322). Although subsistence practice and aspects of settlement patterns are different from Ricks sites, overall population sizes and densities are very low, and if in fact these are pastoralists, they have yet to create large herds. No burials were found at either site during this period, although six individuals were found at Telarmachay in the levels dating to the Middle Archaic. Kaulicke (1997:3031) reports that one of the skulls of these burials is not present, and this suggests to him a religious motivation, possibly regarding ancestor worship. Very little evidence of long-distance trade is found at either site aside from a small fragment of a Strombus shell at Telarmachay. It seems clear that no persistent leadership is recognizable during the Late Preceramic Period on the Junin puna. Population densities are quite low, and although some groups may in fact be sedentary, neither this nor the domestication of the vicua provided as yet a basis for the emergence of more obvious forms of leadership or inequality.

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Figure 2.1. Locations of major sites discussed in the text. 1, Pachamachay/Panaulauca; 2, Telarmachay; 3, Ayacucho Basin sites; 4, Qillqatani; 5, Asana; 6, Jiskairumoko; 7, Kotosh/Shillacoto; 8, Huaricoto; 9, La Galgada; 10, Piruru.

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The Ro Chila Drainage On the basis of extensive excavation at the rockshelter called Qillqatani (also known as Quelcatani), survey in its environs (Aldenderfer n.d.), and additional survey in the nearby Ro Huenque drainage (Klink 1999), it appears from circa 48002000 B.C. the human use of the landscape of this harsh, high puna environment was characterized by a modified logistical mobility with an unknown frequency of residential moves. Qillqatani is at this time very probably a short-term residential site or, more probably, a logistical camp. Mobility is confined to the high puna, but its scale is unknown. The faunal materials present indicate that hunting deer and camelids was important, although a wide variety of plant remains recovered in levels dating between 22002000 B.C. suggests a broad spectrum of plant use that supplemented the diet. There is no indication that camelids were herded; no animal control features like corrals or small pens for neonates or small camelids have been encountered in these levels at Qillqatani. Just after 2000 B.C., and possibly earlier, Qillqatani becomes a residential base. Small, but permanent, structures are built within the rockshelter, ceramics appear for the first time in the cultural sequence, and plant use is more clearly focused on the use of probably domesticated Chenopodium spp., which cannot be grown at the elevation of the shelter (4420 meters) and therefore had to be either obtained through exchange or cultivated by moving part of the residential group to a lower elevation locale. However, the absence from the faunal assemblage of high-utility parts of camelids suggests that trade, and not cultivation, was the most likely way in which the inhabitants of Qillqatani obtained these plants. Settlement patterns in the region also support the inference of decreased logistical mobility. Taken together, these data suggest that by just after 2000 B.C., the inhabitants of Qillqatani practiced a pastoral lifeway. Again, whether this is an in situ development of population replacement is not definitive and, again, given the small scale of production, aggrandizing is not a likely explanation for the appearance of this mode of production (Aldenderfer 2002a). The only material indicator of a potential persistent leadership strategy at Qillqatani is obsidian. Although present at the site in levels dating from 48002000 B.C., it makes up only a small proportion (slightly more than 4 percent by count) of both debris and formal tools. Just after 2000 B.C., and coincident with the dramatic changes in settlement and subsistence, the proportion of obsidian in the assemblage increases to 12 percent for tools and 16 percent for debris. In fact, these proportions of obsidian are characteristic of all Formative assemblages at the site. The majority of this

obsidian comes from the Chivay source in the Colca Valley (Frye et al. 1998), thus making it a long-distance trade good. Almost all of the obsidian is used to fashion small triangular arrow points. Importantly, obsidian is not a necessity since very high-quality tool stone is found in the immediate environs of the site. Aside from scraping tools, almost all of the formal tools in the assemblage are these projectile points. These data point toward two distinct leadership strategies: display and warfare. Obsidian is not required, but it is strongly desired. Obviously, the inhabitants of Qillqatani made strong efforts to obtain it, and the process of getting it was undoubtedly expensive. Whatever meager surplus these people generated, at least part of it went to obsidian procurement. The display of obsidian was in warfare and conflict. Very large numbers of arrow points of obsidian and local materials are found in the post-2000 B.C. levels, many more than are found in earlier occupations of the Late Preceramic. While loss and breakage of arrow points is not uncommon, my intuitive impression is that there are many more points than one would require for hunting and replacement. Keeley (1996) describes a number of ethnographic and archaeological examples of the use of stone projectile points used in warfare, and those used in conflict are often edge modified to make them more lethal. They are also made in abundance. Kuznar (n.d.) notes that pastoral societies are quite violent and, worldwide, frequently engage in raiding, theft, and intimidation of rivals. Since population densities are low and high-quality pasturage abundant at this time, conflict may be more about prestige and status than resource concerns. The few mortuary remains of this period, however, do not exhibit traumas associated with conflict. However, one complex image of rupestral art at the site shows what appears to be two groups of humans facing one another in various poses reminiscent of conflict and injury (Aldenderfer and Klarich n.d.). It is interesting to note that this pattern of a large volume of obsidian turned into lethal projectile points continues until Tiwanaku times, suggesting that low-level warfare was endemic through the Formative. However, other signs of potential persistent leadership are absent, and display and warfare do not appear to have led to more permanent leaders.

Ayacucho Basin The Ayacucho Basin is one of the better-studied regions of the Andean highlands during this period as a result of the combination of regional-scale survey and testing and excavation at key sites, such as Pikimachay, Puente,

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and others (MacNeish et al. 1983). The Late Preceramic here spans three phases: Chihua (50004000 B.C.), Cachi (40002200 B.C.), and Andamarka (22001670 B.C.); data on the latter have yet to be published extensively and will only be outlined here. In the preceding Piki phase, domesticated plants, including gourd, quinoa, and squash, were apparently introduced into the region from elsewhere. However, remains of these plants are very scarce and they did not form a significant part of the diet at the start of the Chihua phase. Guinea pigs may have been penned, if not domesticated, at this time. Although MacNeish (1983:266) reports discovering a hamlet dating to this phase, the occupants of the Ayacucho Basin were residentially mobile, but at a very low level, possibly making only three to four moves per year. MacNeish (1983:269) defines four macrobands inhabiting the basin. Logistical forays were made into adjacent ecozones, including the high puna. Subsistence was a mixture of horticulture, hunting, and collecting in a scenario that resembles Smiths (2001) model of low-level food production. There is no evidence for domesticated camelids. By the end of the phase, more plants have been added to the diet, including tubers and Ayacuchotype corn. Population density is low, but population levels show growth from the preceding phase. There is little evidence for strategies leading to persistent leadership. Of the two burials dating to this phase, neither shows special treatment or contains nonlocal grave goods. Obsidian procurement is seen as an important activity but one that involves direct procurement from the sources well known in Ayacucho, primarily Quispisisa (Burger et al. 2000). Although MacNeish (1983:272) sees evidence for increased exchange, it is apparently at the local level. Much of the obsidian found in the basin at this time was fashioned into projectile points, and some styles are thought to be arrow points. The use of obsidian for projectile points stands in sharp contrast to its use in earlier phases, in which, while obsidian was used, most points were fashioned from cherts, basalts, and other materials. This pattern continues into the Cachi phase and, as is the case in the Chila drainage, may reflect the preferred use of obsidian points in raiding or conflict. The Cachi phase reflects a significant reorientation of settlement and subsistence. MacNeish (1983:272) sees evidence for two distinct subsistence systems in the basin, one focused on lower-elevation resources and another at high elevations, and each is integrated into a system of vertical complementarity. In the wet season, the high-elevation groups descended to lower elevations, where they grew potatoes and herded domesticated camelids. In the dry season, they pastured their animals on the puna. Settlement in the wet season was in either a hamlet or macroband camp, while

in the dry season, these groups dispersed into smaller groups to preferred pasturage. Mobility was relatively low, however. MacNeish (1983) suggests that this adaptation generated a modest surplus, a significant portion of which was used to maintain complementarity relationships. The lower-elevation adaptation was effectively sedentary (MacNeish 1983:272), although it did send logistical parties out to other ecozones. Subsistence was increasingly reliant on agricultural production of seed plants, primarily corn, quinoa, and beans, and supplemented by a wide variety of other plants. The surplus generated by these groups was substantial, and much of the production went to trade with their highland neighbors as well as maintenance of the complementary ties. Highlanders traded obsidian and camelid meat for corn and other agricultural products. Across the basin, population levels were up to three times greater than in Chihua times, with over 19 macrobands postulated. There is no sense, however, that this dramatically increased population led to resource stress and, indeed, it appears that surpluses generated were substantial and effectively distributed by the complementarity system. Despite these major changes in subsistence, settlement, and presumed social relationships, evidence for persistent leadership or strategies leading to them is essentially nonexistent. Although MacNeish notes that there were rumblings in the ceremonial line (1983:278) that presaged developments in the subsequent Andamarka-Wichqana phase, little clear evidence of ceremonial activity was discovered. None of the artifacts, aside possibly from the obsidian used to make projectile points, is of long-distance origin or an exotic nature (MacNeish, Vierra, et al. 1980). Burials show no special treatment, and grave goods are of local origin and quite modest. The absence of evidence for persistent leadership strategies is puzzling, especially given the very significant surpluses said to have been generated by the intensification of agriculture and pastoralism. Aside from the possible increase in numbers of obsidian projectile points, there is no evidence at all for raiding or conflict. It is possible that the inhabitants of the basin expressed any competitive generosity or gift display with perishable materials. An alternative explanation, however, may relate to the emergence of a complementarity relationship between highlanders and lowlanders. Although MacNeish (1983:278) casts it in terms of a functional benefit (i.e., groups in the two zones would be better off cooperating than competing), it is more likely the case that complementarity relationships were first instituted between individual families and on the basis of balanced reciprocity, which is common today in the Andes. These relationships may have been maintained through devoted trading partners who also sought marriage partners and other social

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benefits. This would have been especially beneficial to the highlanders, since pastoral adaptations tend to be highly territorial (because of pasturage requirements) and prone to raiding and conflict. Ties may have been strong enough to count lowlanders as allies or at least as sources of surplus that could be used in other arenas. Lowlanders would have benefited through risk amelioration but, over time, may also have been able to use highland labor toward their own ends. In a sense, then, the emergence of complementarity may have trumped competitive generosity and the use of costly gifts, at least in the short run, but it is easy to speculate on how it could have been manipulated by potential leaders. Unfortunately, no evidence exists for any of this in the Cachi phase. Even greater changes are seen in the basin during Andamarka times (MacNeish, Nelken-Turner, and Vierra 1980:12). Although very poorly known, the phase is characterized by highland agropastoralists and lowland farmers connected via complementarity relationships. Settlement at lower elevations is focused on five geographically separate groups of hamlets associated with ceremonial centers with small pyramids. None of these sites are found in the highlands. It is fascinating to speculate that the patterns for the exploitation and the manipulation of complementarity I described above might have resulted in the emergence of these ceremonial centers, but, again, the data are insufficient to examine this possibility. If these mounds do date to this phase (it is possible they date to the subsequent Wichqana phase), they almost certainly reflect the emergence of some form of persistent leadership based in part on religion, ceremony, and ritual activity.

The Upper Osmore (Asana) Drainage The upper Osmore drainage has been the focus of intensive study since 1985 (Aldenderfer 1998b). A siteless survey discovered 120 components (ten of which can be assigned to the Preceramic), nine rockshelters were tested, and two open-air sites, Asana and El Panteon, were extensively excavated. Two other sites in the region, Caru and Toquepala, were excavated by Ravines (1972), and these provide comparative information. Murro (1999) conducted a brief survey to the west of the drainage and discovered a few new lithic components likely to date to the Preceramic. Based on this research, the Late Preceramic in the upper Moquegua can be divided into two phases: Qhuna (ca. 38003000 B.C.) and Awati (ca. 30001500 B.C.). Residential mobility in the Qhuna phase is restricted to the high sierra environment of the drainage, and the evidence from Asana suggests that the frequency of moves was relatively

low. Subsistence was focused on the exploitation of camelids and taruca (Hippocamelus antisensis, or huemul deer, a small herbivore) and the intensive collection of quinuay, a wild variant of Chenopodium spp. common to the high sierra environment. Residential structures at Asana were significantly larger than those in previous periods at the site, measuring some 9.5 square meters in covered floor area. Obsidian is present but in very small quantities (Aldenderfer 1999:384). No other obvious nonlocal or exotic materials were discovered. The inhabitants of the site during this phase also constructed a series of small ceremonial structuresone per level in the midst of the domestic residences. In the earliest levels of the phase, these structures were small and had covered floor areas ranging from 2267 square meters. Over time, however, these structures grew substantially, such that by the end of the phase, the structure was 132 square meters in area. A variety of features are associated with these structures, including a prepared clay floor, surface hearths, simple basins, clay-lined basins, ovoids made of small stones or small post molds, shallow, narrow trenches, clay and earth platforms, and miniature artifacts. At the start of the phase, the structures are simple and most activity performance takes place outside of them. The haphazard placement of post molds suggests a visible but bounded space, which I have interpreted as being analogous to dance floors common in many foraging societies. Through time, however, feature placement and reuse becomes considerably more complex, and by the end of the phase, the structure is large, is closed from public view, and contains the clay-earth platform and its associated small stone ovals. The closed nature of the structure suggests that a limited number of individuals witnessed events transpiring inside, and the presence of the platform suggests a formalization of ritual activity. I have interpreted these data as reflecting an attempt to control ritual practice and content (Aldenderfer 1993, 1998b:307). The context within which these changes take place is one of circumscription and reduced residential mobility. Subsistence is clearly focused on the intensive use of chenopods, but, interestingly, there is no evidence for their domestication. However, until these wild plants have been cultivated (making them single-stalk plants with thin testas), it is hard to increase their productivity since they have very high harvesting costs. But given the low regional population densities, it seems unlikely that resource stress is playing a causal role in the transformation of ritual. However, if we consider that the inhabitants of the Qhuna phase also maintained complementarity relationships based on some form of balanced reciprocity with other groups living at lower and higher elevations, it may have become increasingly difficult to repay these obligations given the difficulty of increasing

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productivity in a systematic way. Since ritual can act as an agent of social change, the changes in the use of the ceremonial structure may well reflect the redefinition of social categories through the actions of leaders who have captured ritual practice. This may reflect, then, an attempt to build persistent leadership. No other signs of aggrandizement can be seen in the archaeological record of this phase. If these changes reflect an attempt to build persistent leadership, they failed, for in the subsequent Awati phase, ceremonial structures are not built, subsistence is now focused on camelid pastoralism, residential mobility includes movement into the adjacent puna, and residential structures are far smaller and consistent with what is known from the ethnographic record of a pastoral lifeway. Whether this dramatic change reflects an in situ transformation of subsistence economy from Qhuna times or an outright replacement of population from some other place is not clear (Aldenderfer 2002a), although a reanalysis of the data from the perspective of costly signaling theory suggests that an in situ transformation is plausible (Aldenderfer in press a). Hayden (1996) has argued that domestication may be seen as a means by which aggrandizers create a new level of production to be used not for subsistence but instead for a basis for feasting and consequent debt generation. Given the very small scale of the site and the associated corral, it seems unlikely that pastoralism in this case was an aggrandizing effort, although it may have been used by men in a form of limited status competition (Aldenderfer in press a). Aside from a very small amount of obsidian flaking debris, there are no other artifacts indicative of long-distance trade. In fact, Awati phase settlement is very similar to that seen on the Junin punasmall groups of pastoralists with small herds and with little obvious social differentiation and no evidence whatsoever of persistent leadership. That leadership based on ritual alone is prone to failure is not surprising (see Vaughn, this volume). Unless ritual has a coercive element to it, ritual leaders can only exhort and persuade their followers to action. Although ritual practice can transform religious belief and worldview, it is likely that if leadership is ultimately to prove persistent, it must combine ritual practice with more worldly strategies of control, either through extension of hierarchy via ritual into other domains or by creating alliances with other powerful, secular figures (Aldenderfer 1993).

The Ro Ilave Drainage The Ro Ilave drainage, the largest in the southern part of the Lake Titicaca Basin, has been the focus of intensive research since 1994. A selective reconnaissance with the pri-

mary goal of defining the presence of the Preceramic in the circumTiticaca Basin was undertaken in 199495 (Aldenderfer and Klink 1996; Klink and Aldenderfer 1996); this survey resulted in the discovery of more than 200 Preceramic Period components that can be securely dated. Selected sites were tested and excavated, most importantly Pirco, Jiskairumoko (Craig n.d.; Craig and Aldenderfer 2002), and Kaillachuro (Aldenderfer 1998a). Although analyses of the materials recovered are continuing, there are sufficient data available to examine the question of persistent leadership. Settlement patterns in the drainage reflect a trend toward decreasing residential mobility, increasing length of residence at base camps, and settlement aggregation. As measured on a number of scales, population growth rates remain very flat from the Middle Preceramic through the end of the Terminal Preceramic. However, population dramatically increases during the Early Formative, possibly doubling from the Terminal Preceramic baseline in a span of only 500 years. This growth rate is accompanied by settlement aggregation. The proportion of large sites remains flat from the Middle Preceramic through the Late Preceramic, jumps slightly by the end of the Terminal Preceramic, and increases significantly by the end of the Early Formative. Since population does not decrease over time, it seems clear that settlement reorganization is taking place, with population shifting to a growing proportion of larger sites in the settlement system. Subsistence practice reflects continued hunting through all periods but with increasing reliance on Chenopodium spp. and possibly tubers through time. Prior to 2600 B.C., both tubers and chenopods were low-density, low-ranked resources. However, with increasing climatic amelioration after this date, which led to the creation of new niches for the expansion of the range of these plants (new terraces along the major river courses subject to annual flooding; see Rigsby et al. 2003), they became increasingly attractive to the inhabitants of the valley, who moved many of their residential bases nearer to these terraces during the Terminal Preceramic. By 2000 B.C., chenopods have become a subsistence staple. The role played by camelids in this transition is unclear, but as I have argued elsewhere, it is probable that they were part of what is best termed an agropastoral adaptation by 2000 B.C. (Aldenderfer in press a). Pirco, occupied sometime between 48003000 B.C., is a good example of a Late Preceramic residential site. Extensive geophysical survey revealed few substantial features, and excavation of those that were discovered indicated a short-term residential use of the site. There is no evidence of planned reoccupation, and the artifact assemblage contains large numbers of projectile points in various stages of reduction. Importantly, there are no obsidian points or debris, and all tools are made from locally available raw materials.

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One secondary burial was found, but it was not accompanied by grave goods. There are no indicators whatsoever of persistent leadership strategies of any kind at the site, a finding consistent with the settlement pattern and subsistence data. A very different picture emerges from Terminal Preceramic Jiskairumoko and Kaillachuro. At the former, largescale excavation and geophysical survey discovered six small pithouses in a semicircle surrounding a larger pithouse. The date of occupation of these structures ranges from 28002000 B.C. The smaller pithouses, interpreted as domestic structures, contain well-made stone hearths and have interior storage features (small chambers dug into their walls). The quality of construction implies planned reuse of the facility. The larger, centrally located pithouse contains a somewhat larger central hearth showing obvious signs of reconstruction and has an interior bench that differentiates it from the domestic structures. No storage facilities were found within it. Given its size (twice the floor area of the smaller structures), the presence of special architectural features (interior bench, large central hearth), and its central location, this structure may have had a religious, ritual, or public function. A number of artifacts associated with the pithouse occupation are of note. Obsidian is common, all of the samples of it that were sourced (n = 6) are from the Chivay source, and it was used exclusively to fashion small projectile (probably arrow) points; 13 percent of all points were made of obsidian, and more than half of these points had edge modifications making them more lethal. In contrast, fewer than ten percent of all other points of similar style were edge modified. This is an earlier manifestation of the pattern seen at Qillqatani. Two modified camelid phalanges dated to contexts of 2300 B.C. were carved to make them into small containers that may have been used to ingest drugs, possibly cebil (Anadenanthera colubrine var. cebil). Cebil is found on the eastern flanks of the Andes and, if this inference of its use is correct, this is another indication of long-distance trade. Finally, the most impressive artifact recovered from the site is a necklace of nine tubular beads made of coldhammered gold and seven circular lapis lazuli beads found with a secondary burial dated to 2500 B.C. The source of this gold is unknown, but there are gold mines in northern Puno, and it is possible that the gold could have come from the central Andes, most notably the Mina Perdida source, which has an initial occupation of 2000 B.C. (Burger and Gordon 1998). Human remains dating to the Terminal Preceramic were recovered from both Jiskairumoko and Kaillachuro. All of the burials at the former were secondary in nature, and none showed evidence of trauma associated with violence. The

interment associated with the gold necklace consisted of a cranium and some postcranial elements of an adult aged in his or her twenties mixed with postcranial elements of a juvenile aged one to three years. The necklace was found beneath the cranium. All of these individuals were interred in small pits near the domestic structures and, aside from the interment with the gold beads, none had grave goods, although one burial was placed on a thin lens of red ochre. Mortuary patterns at Kaillachuro are quite different. A total of nine low ovoid to circular mounds consisting of rock and soil are present, placed in an area of domestic habitation judging from the dense lithic debris on the surface and large, complex subsurface anomalies discovered through geophysical prospection. Trenching in two of these mounds shows them to contain numerous secondary burials as well as what appears to be a primary interment in a centrally located stone chamber in Mound 4 that descends well below ground surface. The remains found at the base of the chamber were those of a small child, possibly five to eight years of age. The matrix within which the bones were found had evidence of carbon staining and red ochre, which may have been turned to a purplish color as a result of the burning. The only artifact found associated with the remains was a quantity of very small obsidian debris or shatter that was dusted on the surface of the chamber. The matrix has been dated to 2400 B.C. In addition to this burial, six other secondary interments were found in the mound. Most of these interments were placed on ovoid or circular white and yellow clay lenses. None had artifacts associated with them. Mound 1 (only partially excavated) contained two secondary burials, one of which was associated with a stone hoe commonly used in the Formative Period. For these sites during the Terminal Preceramic, there are strong indicators of prestige-building that may have been associated with attempts to develop a foundation for persistent leadership. Most obvious are the artifacts obtained from long-distance exchangethe obsidian, cebil, and gold. As at Qillqatani, the obsidian was used primarily for display and possibly warfare. The cebil was not present in abundance, but only those individuals with strong connections could obtain it, then use it or offer it as a gift. The gold is the most extraordinary of these, and the context of its disposal is significant. Someone with powerful connections obtained it, displayed it, and, most important, took it out of circulation by interring it with the dead. If the association with a child burial as a part of this process is sound, then the significance is even greater since children with costly burial goods can only possess these by some kind of inherited status. The child burial in Mound 4 at Kaillachuro also speaks to inheritance, albeit at a more humble level since obsidian was the only good associated with the interment. Taken together, these

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data suggest that display, possibly in a competitive manner, occupied the potential leaders at Jiskairumoko and was a favored leadership strategy for prestige-building. The large numbers of secondary burials at both sites speak to the likely importance of ancestors in the ritual and religious practice of these peoples. Ancestor worship and veneration is well documented in Andean societies (Isbell 2002) and secondary burials are seen as a probable manifestation of this (Brown 1991). If true, this implies that lineage is recognized and is a likely source of inequality in Terminal Preceramic times. Finally, the burial mounds at Kaillachuro speak to yet another important social process associated with increasing sedentism: the formation of territories. The use of mortuary facilities as markers of social boundaries has been inferred in a number of societies around the world (Charles and Buikstra 1983). While this does not imply that persistent leadership is yet present, it does suggest that a context wherein such leadership may emerge is forming after 2400 B.C. Indeed, social circumscription is invoked as a causal mechanism in many processual models of the emergence of social inequality (Johnson 1982), and, as I have argued above, while neither sufficient nor necessary for inequality to emerge, it appears to contribute to its origins in some trajectories to persistent leadership. In the Ilave, a pattern emerges wherein warfare and territorial marking define a potential leadership strategy based on threat and force, while at the same time, ancestral worship and display define a complementary, or possibly competing, strategy of leadership.

The Central Andean Ceremonial Sites

The central Andean ceremonial sitesKotosh, Huaricoto, Shillacoto, La Galgada, and Pirurucontain some of the best evidence for understanding the emergence of persistent leadership in the Andean highlands. A number of important similarities among them have led some authors to construct models of their interrelationships, including the Kotosh Religious Tradition (Burger and Salazar-Burger 1980), which primarily describes aspects of ritual practice that appears to span the Late Preceramic well into the subsequent Initial Period, and the Mito architectural tradition (Bonnier 1988, 1997; Bonnier and Rozenberg 1988), which is concerned with the stylistic development of the earliest ritual architecture in the highlands. Although the sites themselves are impressive, and the work done at them is of the highest quality, a more complete understanding of the fundamental bases of potential persistent leadership at them is hampered by a lack of regional-scale data in which to describe population densities and aspects of their

subsistence and settlement systems. The only one of these sites that has a reasonable level of contextual data is La Galgada (Grieder et al. 1988). Even at the sites themselves, our understanding of developmental sequences has been hampered by the very deep deposits found at them, which has severely limited, or even made impossible without wholesale destruction of later levels, the scale of excavation efforts in their basal layers. La Galgada is found along a tributary of the Ro Santa some 74 kilometers from the Pacific coast at an elevation of 1100 meters. The site is located on a broad terrace in a narrow river valley. Survey in this valley discovered some 11 Preceramic sites and evidence for a small-scale irrigation complex. Grieder et al. (1988:192) speculate that these small communities could have been in place by 3000 B.C. and possibly earlier. What is known of subsistence practice shows that it was based on cotton, gourd, squash, beans, some fruits, and avocado. No corn is present in the Late Preceramic. Local population density is thought to be relatively high since there were few easily irrigated terraces in the valley. The earliest ceremonial architecture at the site consisted of the North Mound with a circular court, now partially destroyed, to its west. Atop the mound were a series of small (3 5 m in diameter), circular or ovoid masonry chambers with plastered interiors, niches, benches, and central hearths with ventilator shafts (Moore 1996:27). They varied in their orientation, some construction details, and apparently colors. Ritual practice within the chambers was focused on the burning of offerings in the central hearth. The small size of the chamber meant few people could enter and witness a ritual act, a situation made more difficult as these chambers also were used as mortuary loci. As many as four or five of these chambers were in apparent use at any time. Chambers would be filled in periodically, and new chambers (and mortuary features) built atop them. The North Mound grew by accretion, although some effort was devoted at different times during the Late Preceramic to building exterior retaining and supporting walls. By 2200 B.C., the North Mound was some ten meters in height and a smaller South Mound had also been constructed, with small rectangular chambers with ventilators and central hearths very similar to those seen at Mito phase Kotosh (Grieder et al. 1988:197198) and Mito phase Shillacoto (Izumi et al. 1972:fig. 9). A number of burials were recovered from the site. The oldest, from Tomb F-12:B-2, dates to 2300 B.C. (Grieder 1988:242244). The tomb contained three individuals, an adult male and two adult females. The bodies were tightly flexed and wrapped in barkcloth and textiles. The females had items of what were apparently personal decorations, including fragments of minerals, bone pins, and stone beads. Associated with the bodies were a number of totora

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baskets, gourd containers and tools, and cotton bags. In Tomb C-10:E-10, somewhat later in time, but still in the Late Preceramic, three adult females in an extended position were discovered. The bodies were wrapped in cotton fabrics and placed on totora mats. Each of the women had stone-andshell bead necklaces and hair pins (made of human bone), and one had a pendant made of Spondylus shell. Other artifacts included totora baskets, cotton bags, tufts of cotton fiber, and gourds. A few artifacts of turquoise were also recovered; Grieder et al. (1988:200) suggest that the amount of turquoise at the site, while never substantial, nevertheless grew through time. Other artifacts of personal adornment included a variety of beads and pendants made of marine shell. Colorful bird feathers were found with some interments. None of the skeletal remains showed obvious signs of trauma caused by violence, and no infants were found in these tombs, although there were remains of children and subadults (Malina 1988). The data from La Galgada offer fascinating, and possibly contradictory, insights into the development of persistent leadership in the Andean highlands. The creation of small chambers for ritual and their later use as mortuary loci speaks strongly to a sense of lineage and the importance of ancestors, a pattern with apparent deep antiquity in the Andes (Salomon 1991). Burger and Salazar-Burger argue that the constructions at the two larger of the highland ceremonial sites, La Galgada and Kotosh, were performed by corporate labor under direction of permanent authority (1986:66), while the smaller, less elaborate constructions at sites like Huaricoto were directed by some other form of labor organization, possibly one involving a system of rotating ritual authority within which labor is mobilized through ties of blood, marriage, ritual kinship, and friendship and perhaps modeled on a cargo-like system (Burger and Salazar-Burger 1986:78). Although I agree with them that the evidence from Huaricoto does not support an inference of a permanent authority, I am not compelled by their argument that the larger sites would have required permanent authority for the constructions to have been completed. Instead, I believe that a strong case can be made for lineages as the most probable of these formations for both small and large sites. What makes a strong case for lineages is the clear and convincing connection between the construction of the ceremonial chambers, ritual practices conducted within them, and their ultimate use as mortuary facilities. In many parts of the world, including the Andes, lineage heads have special ritual duties and are often the leaders of ritual hierarchies (Aldenderfer 1993:2931). Ritual practice serves as the moral basis of authority for the lineage head and provides at least one avenue by which this leader can potentially extend that power to other social fields. Because of their privileged position,

lineage heads are in a good position to mobilize labor for communal tasks that benefit both themselves and their kin. If kin can be persuaded to cooperate and work together toward some beneficial end, these lineage structures can exert considerable social and political power (Aldenderfer 1993:30). From this perspective, then, lineages, when properly motivated and organized, are capable of providing labor sufficient to create structures like those seen at La Galgada. As Salomon (1991) has shown, there is a strong connection in the Andes between lineages, ancestor cults, and the creation of specialized mortuary facilities in which to house the dead. Although his data pertain directly to the Colonial epoch, they nevertheless provide a reasonable platform for inference into a deeper antiquity. Colonial mortuary practice was characterized by considerable variability created by Spanish oppression and indigenous transformation and resistance, but the connection between descent group, ritual practice, and a sense of place crosscut most of this variability. Although caves and rockshelters were used to house the dead, some groups constructed small cult centers, called llacta, composed of small buildings that housed dead ancestors, relics, and other artifacts associated with the dead (Salomon 1991:321). Villages that perceived common origin or relationship would often bury their honored dead in different parts of the same llacta. These llacta had a clear relationship with place: It was typical of the best documented llactas to imagine some of their component ayllus as descended from ancient, valley-owning agricultural heroes and ancestors (Salomon 1991:322). Rituals were conducted at these llacta and at other burial facilities by members of the descent group and included serving the ancestors food and drink and, as Salomon puts it, creating a climate of solemn communion between newer generations and the ancient mothers and fathers (1991:324). There are strong similarities between these Colonial mortuary practices and the small chambers at La Galgada. The chambers appear to have been used first as ritual facilities, then as mortuary loci. They were rebuilt and expanded through time, a pattern also described by Salomon (1991:343), and more ancestors placed within them. Salomon also alludes to a competitive process in the way chambers were expanded: At provincial and village levels the approach of death was the occasion for planning to heighten the affected kindreds standing. Andean curacas (loosely glossed as headman or chief ) prepared before their death tombs not only sufficient to aggrandize their own mummies, but extra vaults so that their descendants might come to be venerated in fealty to their persons (Salomon 1991:343). Further, Salomon shows how a mortuary facility might wax or wane in size, complexity, and upkeep depending on the fortunes of the descent group. Successful groups

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may have been able to manipulate and display their success, thereby signaling their quality and status, thus amplifying their already growing social influence and prestige. He also notes that mortuary officers (described in documents as priests) sat at a nexus of considerable power and wealth. Given the ways in which lineage heads sit at such places in more traditional societies, it is easy to see how they could enhance their status and prestige while also providing group-level benefits to their followers (Salomon 1991:341). Lineage headmanship, then, could be a potential source of persistent leadership. The range of artifacts associated with the dead does not seem to indicate that display or gift prestation was an important leadership strategy unless it was made manifest through perishable materials. Although there are objects from distant places, such as the single Spondylus shell pendant, turquoise beads, and feathers most probably obtained from the Amazon Basin, their quantities are not substantial. The shells used to make the personal adornments were easily obtained from the coast either through trade or direct procurement. However, larger shell necklaces, like that found on one of the women in the C-10:E-10 tomb, were quite large, and although plain in decoration, may have been used as gifts in exchange cycles like those seen in New Guinea. The other artifacts in the tombs were quotidian and are probably those used by the deceased persons during their lives. It is possible that the decorated cotton cloths were seen as prestige items, although, again, the small quantities of these in the tombs suggest that artifact disposal in mortuary contexts with the intent of display was not a leadership strategy at La Galgada. But prestige competition may have been manifest in a wholly different arena: the construction of chambers and the consequent growth of the North and South Mounds. In their earliest form, chambers varied considerably in size, treatment, and location. As noted above, chambers were probably constructed by kin groups, most likely lineages. Through time, however, more and more chambers were constructed on the North Mound, which began to grow larger through this process. The chambers themselves became larger and more elaborate and other, smaller, chambers were being built elsewhere near the mound. It is tempting to argue that the larger, later chambers were being built through a process of competitive display, wherein a lineage attempted to build a larger, more complex chamber. To do so required the labor of others, and it is possible that it was obtained by promises of enhanced prestige for those who willingly gave their labor. It is also likely that feasting was employed as a means to reward those who participated, but unfortunately no evidence of it has been found at the site. Given what is known of subsistence production, feasting would have been feasible. Only the largest and most successful lineages could pursue

this process, and over time the numbers of competitors diminished, which may account for the ever-smaller number of large chambers built on the North Mound over time. This process culminates with a wholesale transformation of ritual practice in the Initial Period, when a large, open plaza is built atop the North Mound. This also helps to explain the construction of the South Mound with its Kotosh-style rectangular chambers. Lineages left out, too poor, or unwilling to participate in the prestige competition unfolding on the North Mound may have deliberately chosen different architectural styles and patrons and engaged in their own display and prestige enhancement. The South Mound, however, never achieved the size and complexity of its neighbor. This process of competitive construction and continual corporate effort directed at building ever-larger support and retaining walls around the North Mound did not require a permanent manager or emerging hereditary upper class, as is suggested by Grieder et al. (1988:199). As with the Enga Great War leader, who has great power in a narrowly defined arena through mutual agreement of all participant parties, the inhabitants of La Galgada may well have agreed on a temporary director of this project. This could obviously have enhanced that individuals prestige as well as that of his lineage, but this additional prestige did not necessarily translate into other social fields. Once the project was completed, all parties could return to their competitive construction displays. Whether the dramatic changes seen in the Initial Period reflect the emergence of a hereditary upper class or a form of persistent leadership is not clear. The transformation of the platform of the North Mound to an enclosed plaza with a single large ceremonial hearth and no other architectural embellishments certainly suggests that one of the Late Preceramic competitors may have won the prestige competition and assumed a dominant position in ritual activity. Unfortunately, other lines of evidence that could be used to bolster this hypothesis or to see whether this prestige translated into other social arenas cannot be obtained from the North Mound because of extensive looting. Excavations in residential areas surrounding the mounds, however, could provide some insight into this. Although we might not be able to know the exact form of persistent leadership, that is, how it played out in other social arenas, it is plausible that it is indeed present at the very end of the Late Preceramic at La Galgada. This model of competitive construction within a ritual context is not characteristic of the other highland ceremonial sites despite very significant similarities in the architectural details of ceremonial spaces and the kinds of rituals performed within them. At Piruru, the earliest ceremonial structures in Bonniers (1997:127) pre-Mito phase are quite variable and include eight small square or circular chambers

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similar to those at La Galgada, a single semisubterranean temple, one open-air hearth with associated sacred floor, and two subterranean spherical structures. What all facilities (except the two subterranean structures) share are central hearths used for ritual burning and the use of red soil and clay both to make floor-altars and to cap them to build new ones atop the old ones. In the following Mito phase, a single Mito-style temple is constructed that is similar in size to its contemporaries at Kotosh. At Chaukayan phase Huaricoto, which dates to 23002200 B.C., although ritual form and performance within the earliest ceremonial constructions central hearths surrounded by a cleared platform, but no surrounding wallsis similar to that of the earliest chambers constructed at La Galgada, the number of platforms grows very slowly through time, as does change in their architectural plan (Burger and Salazar-Burger 1985:121). It is probable that the social formation that built the platforms was a family or, more probably, a lineage (Burger and Salazar-Burger 1980). Kotosh is perhaps the most similar to La Galgada in terms of the numbers and complexity of structures built during the Late Preceramic (Izumi and Terada 1972; see also Bonnier 1997:129140 for a thorough review of Kotosh architectural sequences), but here too the number of constructions is quite limited. Only two structures are known from the earliest occupation of the site (Mito I); this increases to four chambers in Mito II times (the famous Templo de las Manos Cruzadas on Platform 2 and a two-story, three-chamber construction on Platform 4). In Mito IIIa, the Templo de las Manos Cruzadas is ritually buried, and the first Templo de los Nichitos is constructed. The two-story chambers on Platform 4 are consolidated into one larger rectangular temple by Mito IIIc times, a pattern that continues through the end of the Late Preceramic. Thus while the number of structures at these sites is consolidated through time, there is no evidence for competitive construction at them. Ritual practice may have been similar at all of them as is indicated by common architectural features, and it is probable that the chambers all served lineages or perhaps multilineage formations, but the only site that has convincing evidence for the emergence of persistent leadership by the end of the Late Preceramic is La Galgada.

Why Is Persistent Leadership Uncommon in the Late Preceramic?

Only one setting in the highland Late Preceramic La Galgadaappears to have some form of persistent leadership. Even here, however, it comes very late in the occupation of the site, right at the advent of the Initial Period. Much of what seems complex about the site earlier

in the Preceramic can in fact be explained by a model of competitive construction, rather than one involving an emergent elite. The only other region that approaches the complexity seen at La Galgada is in the Ayacucho Basin, and, again, whatever we can identify as persistent leadership appears at the very end of the Preceramic. Elsewhere in the highlands, while there are clearly attempts to build individual and collective prestige, these attempts are very small scale and in some cases, as at Qhuna phase Asana, unsuccessful. What can explain this pattern? We can begin with a review of contexts for the emergence of persistent leadership. Among those identified as having a role in the emergence of inequality are high population density, circumscription, sedentism or low frequencies of residential mobility, resource abundance, resource stress, and the presence of easily intensified resources. Being mindful of the lack of archaeological data for many of the case studies, of these, La Galgada and the Ayacucho Basin share sedentism, resource abundance, and easily intensified resources. In both areas, Late Preceramic subsistence systems are thought to involve low-level food production of domesticated plants and, at least in the Ayacucho Basin, maize is thought to be a plant of growing significance to the diet, although not yet a full subsistence staple. Although the other case studies show sedentary or near-sedentary occupations, none can be characterized by resource abundance, although this requires more discussion. None of the case studies show any sign of resource stress; if anything, the regional climatic picture suggests climatic amelioration across the highlands throughout the entire Late Preceramic (Baker et al. 2001; Cross et al. 2001). While this does not necessarily imply that some local ecologies in the highlands could not have suffered some deterioration, the regional data suggest such reversals would have been temporary and short lived. Population growth is seen in every case study for which we have settlement data, and while this growth may have been rapid, no case study appears to reflect a situation of high population density. Circumscription may have had a role in the Asana case study and possibly in the Ilave with its early territory formation, but it does not seem to have been a factor in others. The issue of resource abundance and the presence of intensifiable resources requires further consideration, because, as noted above, some agent-based models of the domestication process invoke aggrandizers as a causal factor since such resources provide a means by which they can prepare more food for feasts of all kinds, generate competitive displays, or obtain prized items for gift prestations. Camelids are said to have been domesticated at some point during the Late Preceramic in Junin, the Ro Chila, the upper Moquegua, and quite probably the Ro Ilave. However, whatever the causal

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process behind their domestication, they did not, at least during the Late Preceramic, provide a basis for the development of persistent leadership. The reason is simple: it is difficult to easily or rapidly intensify animals in the same way this is possible for plants. Pastoral occupations are inherently limited by pasturage requirements, the relatively slow rate of reproduction of camelids (one live birth per year) compared with that of plants, and, importantly, the labor required to manage herds successfully. Thus while herders may create a relatively stable resource base, it cannot be grown rapidly (Alvard and Kuznar 2001; Aldenderfer in press a). Compounding this is the relatively late appearance of camelid domestication in each of the sequences. The situation in the Ro Ilave drainage is somewhat more complex. Here, camelids, chenopods, and tubers form the basis of an agropastoral subsistence adaptation. Both chenopods and tubers become permanent subsistence staples in the Formative, but clearly they have not achieved this status in the Terminal Preceramic. At least in part this can be explained by noting that only after 2600 B.C. and the formation of the lower, annually flooded terraces as a result of climatic amelioration did either chenopods or tubers reach natural densities sufficient to raise their resource rankings. Chenopods would have been more quickly drawn into the diet, followed more slowly by tubers, which have much higher processing costs because of their natural toxicity. Although they may have entered the diet quickly, it does not necessarily follow that they were used intensively and, indeed, the archaeological data from the Ilave show that it took around 500 years for population to double. Thus while resources capable of being intensified were present, it does not appear that they were used in a systematic way to support persistent leadership strategies until well into the Formative. Among the varied sources of potential leadership positions that were exploited during the Late Preceramic, two stand out: lineage and ritual. At the central Andean ceremonial sites, lineage appears to have been expressed in the construction of ritual chambers and at La Galgada by their subsequent use as mortuary facilities. Competitive construction may have been directed by lineage heads. At Kaillachuro, small mounds housed the dead through both primary and secondary interments. These observations are consistent with Moseleys (1992:127) argument that in the Andes, lineage, expressed as ayllu, has a deep antiquity and is reflected by special mortuary practices, some of which include secondary burial. The relationship between lineage control and ritual practice is especially appealing, because it is clear that ritual specialists, while they may exert great influence over decision-making, often find it difficult to translate this influence to other fields. But combined with a potentially large demographic foundation of support, the

lineage head may find it easier to generate surplus to support costly ritual activities such as the chamber constructions at La Galgada or the platform mounds in the Ayacucho Basin. Leadership strategies in the Late Preceramic reflect a mixture of prestige-based approaches and those built around threat and warfare. The evidence for the former is best seen in the Ro Ilave, where gold and obsidian were obtained for display and use in mortuary treatments. The quantity of the most costly item, gold, was very small and of very limited distribution. Obsidian was more abundant but was used in a specialized mannerto fashion arrow pointsa pattern also seen in the Ro Chila area as well as in the Ayacucho Basin. Prestige-building through the acquisition of expensive objects was relatively unimportant at the central Andean ceremonial sites, where whatever surplus that was generated was directed at competitive construction, at least at La Galgada and possibly Kotosh. Although direct evidence for warfare is not present, the large numbers of arrow points made in the Ro Chila and Ilave cases strongly suggests that it was of importance in the Late Preceramic. A strategy conspicuous by its absence is feasting. This does not mean that it was not practiced but that its scale was fairly small and that potential leaders may have relied on other means to convince or coerce individuals to cooperate with their undertakings. Feasting would have been difficult to maintain for any length of time in the Junin and Ro Chila cases given the relative incapacity of early pastoralism to generate significant numbers of animals in a short time to be used toward that end. Feasting would have also been very hard to employ at Asana because the resource base could not have supported it effectively. Feasting would have been feasible in the Ayacucho Basin and at the central Andean sites, especially at La Galgada, and to a lesser extent in the Ro Ilave.

Concluding Remarks
In summary, potential leaders in the highlands experimented with different leadership strategies and had varying degrees of success in the development of their personal prestige through the use of lineage, ritual, and possibly smallscale warfare and conflict. In some cases, contextual factors helped to promote the emergence of persistent leadership, whereas in others, contexts failed to provide potential leaders with sufficient flexibility or opportunity to obtain the resources they needed to pursue their agendas. Although I have stressed the importance of resource configurations as a major reason Late Preceramic leaders found it difficult to build persistent leadership, it is very important to remember that whatever prestige they were able to amass was very

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much contingent on the social contexts in which they lived and their ability to inspire their kin and neighbors to support them. This problem is expressed well by Wiessner and Tumu in their explanation of processes of change seen in Enga society in New Guinea:
On first glance, the brilliant performances of the big-men of the twentieth century obscure to some extent what they could not change: that fundamental alterations in Enga social and political structure lagged behind economic and ritual developments. Individual and collective action restructured the economic base, ritual repertoire, and even aspects of cosmology, but rights that were essential for prosperity and reproduction were staunchly defended: rights to land, the products of labor, equal status, and symmetrical reciprocityIt appears that only sustained quantitative growth, both demographic and economic, might have tipped the balance toward more enduring social inequalities by making the social rules and orientations of generations past no longer compatible with existing institutions [1998:372; my emphasis].

In other words, equality is strongly defended by those who do not have high prestige or great influence, and persistent leadership is tolerated, rather than prized. Wiessner and Tumu continue, asserting that centralized, stratified societies developed independently only rarely in history out of unusual circumstances, while others formed out of competition with or domination by more complex societies (1998:300). I will conclude with two observations based on these remarks. The first is that while resource abundance is a necessary condition for the emergence of truly persistent leadership, persistent leadership may only actually become accessible through the mediation of religious practice, ritual action, and the dramatic manipulation of belief systems. Enga leaders were able to transform much in their economies and even some of their ritual behaviors, but all of the changes lay within the paradigm of earlier belief systems, which, as the quotation above suggests, were no longer compatible with the changes they had indeed wrought. But control of religious beliefs through ritual action can in fact change social categories such that new institutions may have a firmer foundation in day-to-day reality for most people. In the case of the Enga, Wiessner and Tumu (1998:379), following Stratherns (1994) work, argue that ritual cults, which embodied new ways of thinking about social and exchange relationships and which often crosscut lineage affiliations, served as a medium for big men or great men to obtain wealth and prestige from other sources. The cults served as means by which emergent leaders could justify their increased wealth and prestige and could, over time, serve to perpetuate their leadership across generations. The data from the Andean highlands tend to underline the importance of

control over religion and ritual, in that two of the successful transitions to persistent leadership, La Galgada and the Ayacucho Basin, show evidence of this. And even where no persistent leadership occurred, such as at the smaller central Andean ceremonial sites and at Asana, religion and ritual practice were important. The second observationthat of the sheer difficulty of creating persistent leadershipprovides a way for us to understand why La Galgada is so precocious in the emergence of persistent leadership when compared with other highland sites. As Grieder et al. (1988) have observed, the site is strategically located in a transportation corridor that linked the coast with the puna to the eastern flanks of the Andes. Moreover, it is within a three to four days walk from the coast, which witnessed the development of persistent leadership some 200300 years earlier. The site shows strong links to the coast in terms of exchange relationships. Thus while the expression of leadership opportunities might have taken highland forms, specifically in the construction of ritual chambers of highland style, its inhabitants may have been stimulated to engage in competitive construction at La Galgada to emulate what was already taking place on the coast. The competition was not with the coast, but potential leaders used existing persistent leadership strategies already in place on the coast as models for their own activities in the highlands. Domination or competition may well explain some trajectories to persistent leadership, but in this case it is quite likely imitation and emulation are better explanations of La Galgada and the relatively early emergence of persistent leadership at it. References Aldenderfer, Mark 1993 Ritual, Hierarchy, and Change in Foraging Societies. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 12:140. 1998a Kaillachuro: A Formative Mortuary Complex from the Southwestern Lake Titicaca Basin. Berkeley: Institute of Andean Studies. 1998b Montane Foragers: Asana and the South-Central Andean Archaic. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press. 1999 Cronologia y conexiones: evidencias preceramicas de Asana. In El periodo arcaico en el Per: hacia una definicin de los orgenes. P. Kaulicke, ed. Boletn de Arqueologa PUCP (Lima) 3:375391. 2002a Explaining Changes in Settlement Dynamics across Transformations of Modes of Production: From Hunting to Herding in the SouthCentral Andes. In Beyond Foraging and Collecting:

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