This book examines the role of factional competition in

the evolution of political systems in the ancient New

World. It analyzes how competing factions within local
groups and between regions sparked the emergence of
social inequality, changing patterns of chiefly authority,
the formation and expansion of states, and the rise of
institutional specialization. The contributors isolate the
sources of factional competition in the kinship and poli-
tical structures of New World societies. They explore the
opportunities and constraints presented by different
mediums of competition such as feasting, gift-giving,
and warfare, and analyze the relationship of factional
competition to class struggle, ethnic identity, and
resource shortages. They also define the evidence left by
factional competition in the archaeological record.
Recognizing the multiplicity of factions and interests
that existed in prehistoric societies, the contributors
suggest that theories of strict systemic or structural caus-
ality are inadequate for the analysis of social change.
Instead, they offer studies that integrate agent-centered
and system-centered views.
These new insights into premodern political systems,
the dynamics of social change, and the evolution of
social complexity in the New World will interest
archaeologists, anthropologists, political scientists, and
historians.
NEW DIRECTIONS IN ARCHAEOLOGY
Factional competition and political
development in the New World
Editors
Francoise Audouze
Centre de Recherehes Archeologiques,
Meudon, France
Richard Bradley
Department of Archaeology, University of Reading
Joan Gero
Department of Anthropology, University of South
Carolina
Tim Murray
Department of Archaeology, La Trobe University,
Victoria, Australia
Colin Renfrew
Department of Archaeology, University of Cambridge
Andrew Sherratt
Department of Antiquities, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford
Timothy Taylor
Department of Archaeology, University of Bradford
Norman Yoffee
Department of Anthropology, University of Arizona
Wendy Ashmore
Department of Anthropology, University of Pennsylvania
Factional competition
and political
development in the
New World

Edited by
ELIZABETH M. BRUMFIEL

and
JOHN W. FOX

CAMBRIDGE
UNIVERSITY PRESS
PUBLISHED BY THE PRESS SYNDICATE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
The Pitt Building, Trumpington Street, Cambridge, United Kingdom

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

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http ://www. Cambridge. org

Cambridge University Press 1994

This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception

and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements,
no reproduction of any part may take place without
the written permission of Cambridge University Press.

First published 1994

First paperback edition 2003

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Library of Congress cataloguing in publication data

Factional competition and political development in the New
World/edited by Elizabeth M. Brumfiel and John W. Fox.
p. cm. - (New directions in archaeology)
ISBN 0 521 38400 1 hardback
I. Indians - Politics and government. 2. Political anthropology -
America. 3. Social archaeology - America.
4. Indians - Antiquities.
5. America-Antiquities. I. Brumfiel, Elizabeth M.
II. Fox, John W., 1947- . III. Series.
E59.P73F33 1993
306.2-dc20 92-32371 CIP

ISBN 0 521 38400 1 hardback

ISBN 0 521 54584 6 paperback
 PART III STATES 77
7 Ethnicity and political control in a
Contents complex society: the Tarascan state of
prehispanic Mexico 79
Helen Perlstein Pollard
8 Ethnic groups and political development in
ancient Mexico 89
Elizabeth M. Brumfiel
9 Factional divisions within the Aztec
(Colhua) royal family 103
Rudolf van Zantwijk
10 Alliance and intervention in Aztec imperial
expansion 111
Frederic Hicks
11 Political factions in the transition from
Classic to Postclassic in the Mixteca Alta 117
List of figures page vin Bruce E. By land and John M. D. Pohl
List of tables x
List of contributors xi 12 Internal subdivisions of communities in the
Preface xii prehispanic Valley of Oaxaca 127
Stephen A. Kowalewski
PART I INTRODUCTION
13 Cycles of conflict: political factionalism in
1 Factional competition and political the Maya Lowlands 138
development in the New World: an Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl
introduction
14 Political cosmology among the Quiche
Elizabeth M. Brumfiel
Maya 158
John W. Fox
PART II CHIEFDOMS 15
15 Factions and political development in the
2 The power of prestige: competitive
central Andes 171
generosity and the emergence of rank
Terence N. D'Altroy
societies in lowland Mesoamerica 17
John E. Clark and Michael Blake
PART IV DISCUSSIONS 189
3 Factional ascendance, dimensions of
16 Factional competition and historical
leadership, and the development of
materialism 191
centralized authority 31
Glenn Perusek
Charles S. Spencer
17 Conclusions: moietal opposition,
4 External warfare and the internal politics
segmentation, and factionalism in New
of northern South American tribes and
World political arenas 199
chiefdoms 44
John W. Fox
Elsa M. Redmond
5 Chiefdom rivalries, control, and external Bibliography 207
contacts in lower Central America 55 Index 230
Mary W. Helms
6 Factional competition and the political
evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms in
the Southeastern United States 61
David G. Anderson
 3.6 La Tigra, the drained-field system. A
network of canals connects two oxbow
lagoons with the Cano Colorado, a
Figures tributary stream of the Rio Canagua. 42
4.1 Locations of the northern South
American societies considered in this
study of tribal and chiefly warfare. 45
6.1 European exploration and native
societies in the South Appalachian area
during the sixteenth century. 62
6.2 Matrilineal succession to the
chieftainship in Mississippian society. 68
6.3 Dispersal of chiefly elites in Southeastern
Mississippian chiefdoms: use of
matrilocal post-marital residence to
relocate potential rivals while building a
power base. 71
6.4 Dispersal of chiefly elites in Southeastern
2.1 Measures of interaction in unrestricted Mississippian chiefdoms: sources of
(A) and linear (B) networks. 20 instability in later generations. 72
2.2 Environmental zones of the Mazatan 6.5 Mississippian archaeological sites in the
area. 22 Southeastern United States. 73
2.3 Population estimates for the Mazatan 7.1 Protohistoric Mesoamerica. 80
region during the Early Formative 7.2 Sixteenth-century ethnic/linguistic
period. 23 boundaries. 81
2.4 Reconstruction of Barra vessels from the 7.3 Protohistoric Tarascan market and
Mazatan zone. 24 tribute regions. 82
2.5 Percentages of vessel types in the Barra 7.4 Eighteenth-century Tarascan language
ceramic assemblage. 25 distribution. 83
2.6 Reconstruction of Locona vessels from 7.5 Tarascan ethnic/political structure. 84
Mazatan zone. 26 8.1 The Valley of Mexico during the Late
2.7 Percentages of vessel types in the Locona Postclassic, showing the location of
ceramic assemblage. 27 Xaltocan and other major settlements. 90
3.1 Western Venezuela, showing location of 8.2 Chiconcuauh, leader of the Otomis and
study area overlapping the foothills of first ruler of Xaltocan, receives land from
the Andes and the high llanos. 37 Xolotl. 91
3.2 Early Gavan and Early Curbati 8.3 An honorary "Otomi" warrior seizes a
settlement patterns. 38 captive in war. 95
3.3 Late Gavan and Late Curbati settlement 8.4 "Tribal" areas of late prehispanic
patterns. 39 Mexico. 95
3.4 Topographic map of the Gavan site, 8.5 The Otomi patron deity Otonteuctli,
showing the major earthen mounds, wearing a labret, appears in the festival
calzadas, smaller housemounds, the ofXocotlhuetzi. 99
block excavation areas, and the test 40 8.6 Otomi dancers, wearing labrets, celebrate
excavations. the festival of Xocotl huetzi. 99
3.5 The Gavan locality, showing the 8.7 Labrets from Xaltocan. 100
first-order center, an adjacent 8.8 The distribution of labrets within the
second-order site, nearby third-order survey area at Xaltocan. 100
sites, the drained-field system, and the 9.1 Colhua and Tepanec factions within the
calzada system. 41 ruling lineage of Tenochtitlan. 105

viu
 List of figures IX

11.1 Southern Nochixtlan Valley showing
locations of places mentioned in text. 118
11.2 Las Flores Phase (Classic period)
occupation of Tilantongo and Jaltepec. 120
11.3 Genealogical relationships of major
characters in the War of Heaven and 8
Deer periods. 122
11.4 Natividad phase (Postclassic period)
occupation of Tilantongo and Jaltepec. 123
11.5 Place sign of Zaachila. 124
12.1 Clustering in prehispanic settlements. 128
12.2 A site with multiple, widely scattered
mounds: 4-11-87 etc., a Monte Alban V
site near San Sebastian Teitipac. 129
12.3 A site with a single focus of mounds and
plazas: Tl-SJT-SJT-11, a
multicomponent site near San Juan
Teitipac. 130
12.4 A site with a single focus of mounds and
plazas and others scattered: Xoxocotlan,
mainly Early Classic. 130
12.4 A site with multiple architectural foci:
OC-SMT-SMT-11 near San Martin
Tilcajete, in the Late Formative. 131
12.6 A site with multiple architectural foci:
Suchilquitongo in the Late Classic. 131
12.7 A site with multiple architectural foci:
Monte Alban V Tlalixtac. 132
12.8 The center of one of Monte Alban's
barrios, site subdivision 15 (El Gallo). 133
13.1 Map of sites discussed. 139
13.2 Carved peccary skull from a Late Classic
royal tomb at Copan illustrating elite
participation in the cuch (burden) rite. 140
13.3 The Book of Chilam Balan of Chumayel
depicts the lords of the katuns as
European kings. 142
13.4 Map showing the locations of Caracol,
Tikal, and other competing polities in
northeast Peten and southwestern Belize. 146
13.5 Stele 16, Dos Pilas, shows Ruler 3,
dressed as a jaguar victorious over Paw
Jaguar, divine lord of Seibal. 147
13.6 Lintel 6, Structure 1, Yaxchilan, shows
Bird Jaguar, in a jaguar headdress, and
his cahal, both holding jaguar clubs. 148
13.7 Lintel 8, Structure 1, Yaxchilan, depicts
Bird Jaguar and his cahal grasping
Jeweled Skull and another captive in a
ritual re-enactment of Jeweled Skull's
defeat. 149
13.8 Lintel 58, Structure 54, Yaxchilan,
depicts Bird Jaguar attended by his
brother-in-law, the cahal Great Skull. 150
13.9 The Kimbell panel shows a war captain
presenting his lord Shield Jaguar II with
captives. 151
13.10 The Leiden plaque shows a ruler at his
inauguration in AD 320. 153
14.1 Arrangement of the four Quiche major
lineages according to the cardinal
directions. 158
14.2a Plan of Jacawitz. 160
14.2b Jacawitz (Chitinamit), Chujuyup. 161
14.3 Settlement plan of Utatlan. 163
14.4 Cosmogram showing the three patron
temples within the quadripartite
sectioning of Utatlan. 164
14.5 Power of major lineages at Jacawitz (A)
during the Early Postclassic period, and
at Utatlan (B) during the Late Postclassic
period. 165
14.6 Four concentric circles of the Quiche
state's maximum expansion to the four
cardinal directions, for a total of thirteen
divisions. 167
15.1 Chronology of Upper Mantaro Valley
occupations; chronology of Inka
emperors. 171
15.2 The Upper Mantaro region, showing the
three say as of Hatunxauxa, Lurinwanka,
and Ananwanka as their territories were
constituted under Inka rule. 172
15.3 Site plan of Tunanmarca (J7), Wanka II
center; the numbered compounds were
excavated. 176
15.4 Ubiquity of copper in Wanka II and III
residential compounds. 177
15.5 Density of copper in Wanka II and III
residential compounds. 178
15.6 Ubiquity of silver in Wanka II and III
residential compounds. 179
15.7 Density of silver in Wanka II and III
residential compounds. 180
15.8 Late Horizon (Inka and Wanka III)
settlement pattern in the northern Upper
Mantaro Valley. 181
15.9 Percentages of chemically characterized
Inka ceramics belonging to
compositional groups, by site. 183
15.10 Simplified succession of lords of the ayllu
Lurinhuallas. 184
Tables

2.1 Consumption of tecomates during the

Early Formative. 28
8.1 Otomi culture traits and their suggested
archaeological correlates. 97
8.2 The frequency of possible ethnic markers
at Middle Postclassic Xaltocan,
Huexotla, and Xico. 98
8.3 Percentages of decorated pottery in units
with and without labrets. 100
8.4 Otomi ethnic markers at Xaltocan,
Middle Postclassic and Late Postclassic
periods. 101
13.1 An example of competition among 145
polities focusing on the area of northeast
Peten and on Caracol.
13.2 Royal visits, marriages, and warfare
between polities recorded in glyphic texts
from the Classic period. 152
 Contributors
DAVID G. ANDERSON, National Park Service, Atlanta,
Georgia
MICHAEL BLAKE, Department of Anthropology and
Sociology, University of British Columbia, Vancouver
ELIZABETH M. BRUMFIEL, Department of
Anthropology and Sociology, Albion College,
Albion, Michigan
BRUCE E. BYLAND, Lehman College and The
Graduate School, City University of New York,
New York
JOHN E. CLARK, Department of Anthropology,
Brigham Young University and New World
Archaeological Foundation, Provo, Utah
TERENCE N. D'ALTROY, Department of Anthropology,
Columbia University, New York
JOHN w. FOX, Department of Sociology and
Anthropology, Baylor University, Waco, Texas
MARY w. HELMS, Department of Anthropology,
University of North Carolina, Greensboro
FREDERIC HICKS, Department of Anthropology,
University of Louisville, Kentucky
STEPHEN A. KOWALEWSKI, Department
of Anthropology, University of Georgia,
Athens
GLENN PERUSEK, Department of Political Science,
Albion College, Albion, Michigan
JOHN M. D. POHL, Institute of Archaeology, University
of California, Los Angeles
MARY E. D. POHL, Department of Anthropology,
Florida State University, Tallahassee
HELEN PERLSTEIN POLLARD, Department of
Anthropology, Michigan State University, East
Lansing
ELSA M. REDMOND, American Museum of Natural
History, New York
CHARLES s. SPENCER, American Museum of Natural
History, New York
RUDOLF VAN ZANTWUK, University of Utrecht
 Preface
This volume began with a chance meeting between Liz
Brumfiel and John Fox at the World Archaeological
Congress, Southampton, in 1986. We recognized our
mutual interest in the internal dynamics of political
development and our complementary specialties in the
prehispanic Aztec and Maya. We also recognized our
mutual interest in visiting Amsterdam, the site of the
46th International Congress of Americanists in 1988.
The two of us organized the symposium "Factional
Competition and Political Development in the New
World" for the 46th International Congress of
Americanists. Participants included the two co-editors
of this volume, David Anderson, Bruce Byland, Pedro
Carrasco, Mary Helms, Stephen Kowalewski, John
Pohl, and Rudolf van Zantwijk. Encouraged by the
quality of the symposium papers, we decided to edit a
xu
volume devoted to exploring factional competition as a
force of social transformation in prehispanic New
World societies. To increase the breadth of coverage,
we solicited additional papers from John Clark and
Mike Blake, Terry D'Altroy, Fred Hicks, Mary Pohl,
Helen Perlstein Pollard, Elsa Redmond and Chuck
Spencer. To our regret, Pedro Carrasco had to drop
out of the project; his contribution is sorely missed.
Glenn Perusek, a specialist in historical materialist
approaches to interest group politics and rational
choice theory, generously offered to write an overview
of the volume from his perspective in political science.
We gratefully accepted his offer.
With the support of the editorial staff at the Cam-
bridge University Press, we completed editing this
volume in May 1992.
PART I

Introduction
 structural) Marxism, the studies in this volume demon-
1 strate the necessity of replacing a theory of strict syste-
mic or structural determination of human behavior with
Factional competition and a theory that integrates agent-centered and system-
centered analyses into a single framework. Most of the
political development in the studies in this volume employ versions of an agent-
centered practice theory developed in the work of Barth
New World: an introduction (1966), Giddens (1979), and Ortner (1984).
Practice theory is especially suited to the analysis of
factional competition. Factions are characterized by an
ELIZABETH M. BRUMFIEL informal, leader-focused organization (Nicholas 1965,
Bujra 1973, Silverman 1977); thus, it seems reasonable to
initiate analysis by examining the goals and strategies
employed by faction leaders as individual social actors.
Furthermore, factions are groups whose single function
appears to be gaining access to limited physical and
social resources (Bailey 1969:52), and these goals are
best achieved through the application of a pragmatic,
This volume calls attention to the importance of fac- advantage-seeking, maximizing strategy such as that
tional competition as a force of social transformation. It imputed to agents in practice theory. Finally, factions
argues that factional competition is implicated in devel- are structurally and functionally similar groups that
opments as diverse as the spread of ceramic technology compete for advantages within a larger social unit such
and maize agriculture, the origins of permanently insti- as a kin group, ethnic group, village or chiefdom. Prac-
tuted leadership offices, the expansion and collapse of tice theory anticipates conflict between individuals simi-
states, and the European domination of indigenous New larly positioned within society while cultural ecology
World peoples. Although this volume focuses upon the and Marxism do not. As argued below, this internal
New World, its perspective is relevant to the social competition supplies the dynamic for political devel-
histories of other areas of the world as well, because all opment.
non-egalitarian societies, both ancient and modern, are This introduction begins by defining factions and fac-
shaped by the dynamics of factional competition. Bring- tional competition. Then, it discusses the relationship
ing an agent-centered perspective to the study of poli- between factional competition and "ecological" vari-
tical development, this volume also contributes to a ables such as population, warfare, agricultural pro-
general understanding of social stability and change. An duction, and long-distance trade. Third, it proposes how
agent-centered perspective maximizes the amount of factional competition and class struggle interact to
data drawn into the analysis and thus permits the most produce the social formations discussed in the case
detailed and complete account of specific cases of poli- studies that follow. Fourth, it considers how factions
tical continuity and transformation. and factional competition can be identified in the
Our studies of factional competition both complement archaeological record. Finally, it examines the wider
and critique the two prevailing approaches to prehistoric theoretical implications of an agent-centered per-
social change: cultural ecology and Marxism. Cultural spective.
ecology focuses upon the dynamic interactions of human
populations and their local environments. As a com-
plement to this, the studies in this volume examine the What are factions?
internal dynamics of local populations, dynamics that Aside from a few brief discussions of factions prior to
help to shape the strategy of resource exploitation. 1955 (Lasswell 1931, Linton 1936:229, French 1948,
Marxist theory focuses upon the dynamics of class Fenton 1955), anthropological interest in factions devel-
struggle: a model postulating solidarity within classes oped as part of an effort to expand the scope of social
and struggle between them. As a complement to class anthropology beyond the description and analysis of
struggle, the essays in this volume emphasize the import- formal social structure. This was accomplished first
ance of conflicts within classes and alliances between through the recognition of the many informal, non-
them. As critiques of cultural ecology and (particularly corporate groups present in contemporary non-Western

3
 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel
societies (including action groups, cliques, networks,
factions, and patron-client dyads), and second, through
the investigation of how social structure is generated by
individuals acting to maximize their self-interest given
their particular sets of cultural and material constraints
(Whitten and Whitten 1972; Cohen 1974:40-3; Vincent
1978). From the mid-1960s to the mid-1970s, the con-
struction of models of informal groups and individual-
centered social transactions was a flourishing, if some-
what insular, enterprise within social anthropology, and
factions became the object of considerable interest.
At issue was the definition of factions (Lewis and
Dhillon 1954; Firth 1957; Boissevain 1964; Nicholas
1965), whether factions served positive social functions
or were a form of social pathology (Siegel and Beals
1960; Schwartz 1969); the relationship between factions
and class conflict in peasant societies (Sandbrook 1972;
Alavi 1973; Gross 1973; Schryer 1977), and whether
factions were an obstruction or an impetus to social
change (Bujra 1973; Silverman and Salisbury 1977).
However, this interest in factions abruptly collapsed in
the late 1970s when anthropologists turned away from
local-level, agent-centered studies to pursue the issues
raised by the world systems perspective. Although fac-
tions have continued to serve as a basic construct for
analyzing peasant politics (e.g., Hegland 1981; Green-
berg 1989; Munson 1989), the theoretical debates sur-
rounding factions have ceased.
There are two reasons for resuscitating what appears
to be a dead horse. First, in the sudden move away from
factions fifteen years ago, a number of theoretical issues
concerning factions were left underdeveloped or
unresolved. Second, while factional competition was
analyzed extensively in relation to contemporary
peasant politics, its usefulness for understanding the
politics of prehistoric societies has not been explored.
Dealing first with the most important of the unresolved
questions, we can ask, how should factions be defined?
During the 1960s, factions were defined in terms of
their characteristics as a group. Factions were said to be
politically oriented conflict groups whose membership
was recruited and maintained through the efforts of a
leader (Nicholas 1965; Bujra 1973; Silverman 1977). In
such groups, unity derives from ties between leaders and
followers; lateral ties among followers are poorly devel-
oped (Nicholas 1965:28-9; Bujra 1973:134). This was
said to account for the loosely structured, personalistic
character of factions (Firth 1957:292). Factions were
also said to be based upon calculations of self-interest
rather than moral commitment to the group (Bailey
1969:52), to be transitory groups with membership
recruited on many different bases (Nicholas 1965), and
to be lacking in corporate property, frequent meetings,
structural complexity, and rules governing succession to
leadership (Boissevain 1964; Bujra 1973). Explicitly or
implicitly, factions were contrasted with corporate
groups, the traditional focus of structural-functional
analysis in social anthropology.
These definitions are quite useful for investigating the
character of factions as a type of informal group, but
they divert attention from the most interesting dynamic
property of factions, namely the competitive relation-
ships between them. If the object of investigation is to
discover how factional competition acts as a force of
social transformation, it is preferable to view factions in
terms of what they do rather than in terms of what they
are (Salisbury and Silverman 1977). Therefore, in this
volume, factions are defined as structurally and func-
tionally similar groups which, by virtue of their similarity,
compete for resources and positions of power or prestige.
In this definition, factions are understood to be groups
engaged in political competition which are neither
classes nor functionally differentiated interest groups.
The lack of structural and functional differentiation
between factions has been frequently noted. In a South
India village, Siegel and Beals (1960:396) found "few
indications of consistent differences between them in
terms of policy or kinds of people who belonged." In
Boissevain's (1964:1276) view, a faction is "a loosely
ordered group in conflict with a similar group." Simi-
larly, Sandbrook (1972:111) defines a faction as "a
segment of a clientage network organized to compete
with a unit or units of similar type."
Bujra (1973:136-8) provides an excellent theoretical
account of the structural similarity of factions. She
explains that faction leaders come from similar social
backgrounds because while "social distance restricts
competition, social contiguity engenders it ... Conflicts
thus often begin between people who are more socially
alike than different." In addition, faction leaders tend to
come from the "dominant" sectors of society, since it is
these individuals who have the resources needed to
recruit large folio wings. Coming from the same privi-
leged sector of society, faction leaders are likely to share
similar political goals, and these goals are not likely to
challenge the basic structure of society.
Bujra (1973:137) adds that leaders, wishing to enlarge
their followings, will seek supporters in all the different
sectors of society, claiming allegiance on many different
bases: past or future patronage, proximity of kinship, a
common religion or ethnic identity, etc. Therefore, the
individuals forming a faction lack an identity of interests

that would engender common political goals beyond
winning advantages for their own faction. Nor are there
clear differences between the members of different fac-
tions that might result in policy differences between
them.
Thus, while factions compete for resources, their
structural similarity insures that they will hold similar
ideas about what the world is like and what it should be
like. Factional competition tends to be non-
revolutionary in intent. The objective of factional com-
petition is to achieve a favorable allocation of existing
benefits; each faction hopes to gain more while its com-
petitors gain less. Participants conceptualize factional
competition as a zero-sum game in which one party's
gain is another's loss. Thus, in factional competition,
debate generally centers upon the relative legitimacy of
each faction's claims rather than the merits of substan-
tively different social programs.
Given the lack of structural differences between com-
peting factions, it is atfirstdifficult to see how they might
act as vehicles of social transformation. Because fac-
tional competition is non-revolutionary in intent, it has
often been regarded as non-revolutionary in con-
sequence (Siegel and Beals 1960, Gross 1973, Sandbrook
1972). However, Salisbury and Silverman (1977:6-7)
observe that factionalism has an inherent dynamism
grounded in competitive strategizing: "Each confront-
ation [between factions] changes the terms on which the
next confrontation will take place ... [T]he strategy of
one side ... does not produce an exact or mirror-image
strategy ... Relations are, in fact, systematically oblique
and groupings are systematically unalike. Factionalism,
in short, produces actions and reactions that do not
simply balance o u t . . . "
The issue of whether, as Silverman and Salisbury
suggest, factional competition could serve as a
mechanism of social transformation has not been
thoroughly explored. A major obstacle to gauging the
transformative power of factional competition has been
that, prior to this volume, factions have been studied in
contemporary communities under the dominance of a
state: Native American communities supervised by the
Bureau of Indian Affairs and peasant communities in
colonial or recently post-colonial nations. In such com-
munities, the state constrains both the scale of conflict
and the degree of structural change resulting from fac-
tional competition. For this reason, previous studies
may easily have underestimated the transformative
power of factional competition. Almost certainly, fac-
tional competition was a more dynamic force in pre-state
societies than it is in the modern world.
Introduction
Another issue that has not been thoroughly explored
is the proper scale of analysis for the study of factional
competition. In the ethnographic literature, outside
forces have sometimes been seen as influencing factional
competition. For example, the rise of factions is often
attributed to the decline of traditional, power-holding
corporate groups under the impact of Western contact
(French 1948; Siegel and Beals 1960; Nicholas 1965;
Nagata 1977). And several observers have suggested that
the strength of factions and faction leaders varied
according to their access to outside sources of revenue
and influence, most often supplied by the state (Schwartz
1969; Sandbrook 1972; Bujra 1973; Gross 1973; Schryer
1977; Salisbury 1977). Nevertheless, factions have been
regarded as an aspect of "local level politics" (Schwartz
1968), impinged upon by regional or national politics
but not affecting them in reverse.
In contrast, several essays in this book investigate the
interplay of local and regional processes in tribal poli-
tics. Spencer (Chapter 3) argues convincingly that the
internal and external dimensions of tribal leadership are
intertwined. The formation of competing factions within
communities goes hand in hand with the development of
alliances between faction leaders in different communi-
ties. The net effect of this process is to turn an entire
region into a single political "arena," a community
within which competing coalitions of faction leaders vie
for resources. In a similar fashion, it becomes extremely
difficult to differentiate between local, internal dimen-
sions of political violence (the suppression of rebellion)
and regional, external dimensions of political violence
(the pursuit of warfare) once communities became
enmeshed in intervillage alliances that compete at the
regional level (see Anderson, Chapter 6, for Mississip-
pian societies and Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13, for the
Classic Maya).
In examining factional competition and political
development in prehistoric societies, the essays in this
volume raise a number of issues, most of which are new
to archaeology. These include: the opportunities and
constraints presented by different mediums of com-
petition including feasting (Clark and Blake, Chapter 2),
external alliances and trade (Spencer, Chapter 3), and
warfare (Redmond, Chapter 4; Helms, Chapter 5); the
sources of factional competition in the kinship and poli-
tical structures of chiefdoms (Anderson, Chapter 6),
states (Byland and Pohl, Chapter 11; Pohl and Pohl,
Chapter 13; Fox, Chapter 14) and empires (van Zant-
wijk, Chapter 9); factional competition and ethnic
identity (Pollard, Chapter 7; Brumfiel, Chapter 8); and
factional competition and imperial expansion (Hicks,
 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel
Chapter 10). The apparent absence of corporate groups
and factional competition is analyzed for the Valley of
Oaxaca (Kowalewski, Chapter 12), cycles of factional
competition and political change are defined for the
southeastern United States, the Maya lowlands and the
Postclassic highlands (Anderson, Chapter 6; Pohl and
Pohl, Chapter 13; Fox, Chapter 14), and the shifting
composition of factions and factional conflict in pre-
imperial, imperial, and colonial societies is examined for
the central Andes (D'Altroy, Chapter 15).
All the essays in this volume are concerned with the
relationships of factional competition to ecological con-
ditions and class conflict. The next two sections of this
introduction explore these relationships.
Factional competition and cultural ecology
At first glance, the study of factional competition and
cultural ecology would seem to have little to offer each
other. Factional competition focuses attention upon the
inner dynamics of social systems while ecosystem theory
derives the dynamics of social change from the inter-
action of human populations with their environments
(Hill 1977:88; Binford 1983:221). The study of factional
competition involves consideration of strategic decision
making by self-promoting leaders while, in the view of
cultural ecologists, social change is unrelated to the
perceptions and motives of social actors (Hill 1977:66-7;
Price 1982:720). Despite these differences, cultural
ecology can only benefit from a more explicit consider-
ation of factional politics. Such studies would reveal the
internal needs and resource requirements of complex
political institutions that affect their distribution in time
and space. And studies of factional politics would reveal
the importance of the traits that accompany complex
political institutions but appear to serve no critical eco-
logical function. For these reasons, perhaps, a concern
with factional politics is already present in the work of
several ecosystems theorists (Flannery 1972; Webster
1975, 1976; Yoffee 1979; Spencer 1982).
Cultural ecologists generally assert that socio-political
hierarchies evolve because chiefly and state hierarchies
provide for a more effective relationship of a population
to its environment; under certain demographic and
environmental conditions, political hierarchies are
adaptive.
Ecosystem theorists often assume that incipiently
complex political institutions are at least sporadically
present in simpler societies, ready to be pressed into
service when they are favored by demographic and
environmental conditions. The timing and location of
incipiently complex institutions is said to be random;
they do not in themselves constitute a problem suitable
for research. Variation, as Price (1982:716) observes,
"arises constantly in all living systems and does not, in
terms of an evolutionary paradigm, require expla-
nation." But this is not entirely true. Just as sociopoliti-
cal complexity might be precluded by environmental
problems that have no managerial solution, complex
political institutions might be precluded by ecological
conditions that do not meet their own institutional
requirements.
An excellent example of this principle is supplied by
Clark and Blake (Chapter 2 , summarizing Hayden 1990;
Hayden and Gargett 1990). All but the most ephemeral
forms of political leadership require a disposable surplus,
a "fund of power" (Sahlins 1968:89). But so long as
humans relied upon limited and fluctuating resources,
the competitive accumulation of surplus depleted com-
munal resources and was not tolerated. Hence, despite
the managerial benefits that more powerful specialized
leadership might have conferred upon the population,
such leadership did not emerge until after subsistence
came to be based upon rich and reliable food resources.
A second and even more interesting example concerns
long-distance trade. Long-distance trade has a tendency
to increase as political institutions become more
complex. Cultural ecologists, with their attention peren-
nially fixed on population-environment interaction,
have supplied three accounts of long-distance trade. One
regards it as a means of procuring critical resources that
are not locally available (Rathje 1971; Johnson and
Earle 1987:245). A second regards it as a means of
gaining alliances and valuables (storable wealth) that
enhance subsistence security (Flannery 1968; Halstead
and O'Shea 1982). The third regards long-distance trade
as unimportant because it is most often concerned with
sumptuary, as opposed to subsistence, goods (Price
1977; Binford 1983:227-31; Sanders 1984).
However, all these accounts draw attention away from
the fact that valuables acquired from distant sources
supply considerable political control because of their
ability to attract followers, allies and patrons and to
maintain hierarchies of control (Schneider 1977; Earle
1978; Friedman and Rowlands, 1978; Helms 1979; Kris-
tiansen 1981:257; Brumfiel and Earle 1987; Gosden
1989). Coalition building is an essential activity in creat-
ing and maintaining political power. But we cannot fully
appreciate the importance of this aspect of long-distance
trade in valuables until we stop looking for a directly
adaptive function for this institution or, unable to find
one, assess such trade as epiphenomenal.

Although factional competition must be considered in
ecological analyses of political complexity, ecological
variables are essential for understanding factional com-
petition. As Hayden and Gargett (1990) suggest, fac-
tional competition will not exist so long as subsistence is
based upon limited and fluctuating resources associated
with generalized foraging. When factional competition is
present, the success of faction leaders is partly deter-
mined by local resource productivity and trade route
accessibility. Faction leaders will be most successful in
areas that are most productive, giving the prevailing
methods of resource exploitation. For example, under
conditions of low agricultural intensification, faction
leaders will do best in areas (like the American Bottoms
region of the middle Mississippi River) where a large
following can gather to enjoy the benefits of factional
membership without incurring the costs of intensified
subsistence effort. But under conditions of higher agri-
cultural intensification, leaders will do best in areas with
the greatest quantity of intensifiable resources (irrigable
land, etc.).
Pohl and Pohl (Chapter 13) suggest that ecological
variables affecting agricultural production also shape
the onset and intensity of factional competition. Rainfall
agriculture permits a more mobile commoner popu-
lation, easily able to shift allegiance from one leader to
another. Leaders then compete to control segments of
this mobile population. More intensive agricultural
regimes tie farmers to the land, lessening competition
between political elites and permitting greater political
stability. Price (1984) has also noted this difference,
adding that leaders in rainfall agricultural regimes are
more likely to engage in conspicuous generosity in order
to attract followers.
Anderson (Chapter 6) suggests that extreme com-
petition and violence are common during periods of
environmental instability or change. He believes that
European contact intensified factional competition
among native peoples in the southeastern United States,
first through the introduction of European diseases that
killed individuals who occupied strategic positions in the
regional alliance network, and second through the intro-
duction of European trade goods that opened new possi-
bilities for acquiring wealth items. Spencer (Chapter 3)
cites a case where disease in a Shavante village led to a
realignment of factions.
Geography, by affecting the shape of interaction net-
works, also shapes factional competition. Clark and
Blake (Chapter 2) argue that more open settlement
systems with greater possibilities for regional interaction
have greater potential for being dominated by a single,
Introduction
advantageously situated authority. Conversely, both
Anderson (Chapter 6) and Byland and Pohl (Chapter 12)
suggest that, in patchy environments, the difficulty of
maintaining communications between scattered commu-
nities prevents any one from dominating the others.
Under these conditions, factional competition tends to
persist in a more or less stable equilibrium.
The recognition that factional competition is shaped
by ecological variables does not imply that factional
competition is always, at the base, caused by subsistence
shortages. Cultural ecologists have frequently argued
that intercommunity warfare is the result of growing
populations competing for scarce subsistence resources
(Sanders and Price 1968; Carneiro 1970; Webster 1975;
Ferguson 1984; Johnson and Earle 1987). Alternative
views on the motivation and character of warfare appear
in this volume. For example, Redmond (Chapter 4) finds
that, in northern South America, tribal warfare is moti-
vated by the desire for revenge rather than the desire for
resources. A careful consideration of Panamanian chiefs
leads Helms (Chapter 5) to conclude that their leader-
ship of warfare was motivated by their desire for per-
sonal gain without the added spur of population
pressure. Spencer (Chapter 3) suggests that the elitist
character of warfare in ranked societies is revealed
archaeologically in the fact that elite centers are fortified
while smaller communities are not.
But if warfare arises from the desire for revenge, why
does it occur in some societies but not others (Johnson
and Earle 1987:124, 134)? And if warfare arises from the
selfish motives of chiefs, why do followers participate?
As Redmond (Chapter 4) makes clear, individuals are
very reluctant to fight; in fact, an ambitious leader may
earn the indebtedness of individuals who must seek
revenge by organizing a raiding party on their behalf (see
also Spencer, Chapter 3). Presumably, leaders organize
these raids on the same basis as other activities that they
carry out, by calling to action those indebted to them for
previous favors. Thus, warfare becomes possible once
individual jealousies and the desire for revenge become
linked to the political goals of self-aggrandizing leaders
who have established followings that they can call upon
to implement their plans (see also Sillitoe 1978).
In more stratified societies, the participation of sub-
ordinate groups in warfare is less problematic. Rulers
compel participation through coercion, and they reward
participation by conferring promotions of status upon
those whose performance is outstanding. The link
between warfare and population pressure in stratified
societies is weak. This is clearly indicated by Pohl and
Pohl's (Chapter 13) observation that the population of
 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel
Caracol grew by 325 percent in the 130 years after it
defeated Tikal. If Caracol was making war with a popu-
lation of less than one-third of its capacity, it is difficult
to believe that the war was a consequence of population
pressure.
Factional competition and class conflict
If, because of earlier research agendas, factions have
frequently been contrasted with corporate groups, our
own interest in social transformation leads us to contrast
factions with classes. Under conditions of class struggle,
society is divided by horizontal cleavages that separate
internally solidary and externally competing strata. This
contrasts with a situation of factional competition in
which society is divided by vertical cleavages that unite
members of different strata and foster conflict between
members of the same strata.
Intra-class competition is a common theme in Marx's
writings on capitalist society. Marx (1977:266-7)
observed that capitalist society contained two market-
driven, intra-class struggles: on the one hand, "the
industrial war of capitalists among themselves" to main-
tain profits, on the other hand, the competition among
workers for employment. Marx maintained that intra-
class competition is only overcome by class conscious-
ness brought about by class struggle: "The separate
individuals form a class only in so far as they have to carry
on a common battle against another class; otherwise they
are on hostile terms with each other as competitors"
(Marx and Engels 1947:48-9). Thus, factional compe-
tition and class conflict are presented as inversely related,
the former fading as the latter intensifies. And class
struggle is given the greater explanatory weight: "The
history of all hitherto existing society is the history of
class struggles" (Marx 1977:222).
As Bloch (1983:18) points out, Marx's emphasis upon
class struggle has not been very helpful for anthropolo-
gists investigating the causes of change in classless soci-
eties. In the absence of class struggle, Marxist anthropo-
logists have variously attributed social change in
classless societies to technological development and
environmental change (see Levine and Wright 1980); to
the structural incompatabilities ("contradictions")
between the forces of production, the relations of pro-
duction, and the social and ideological superstructure
(Godelier 1977; Friedman 1975; Friedman and Rowlands
1978); or to the conflict of interests between individuals
who occupy subordinate statuses within society (women,
lineage juniors, etc.) and those who dominate them
(Bloch 1983:160). The dynamics of conflict among those
in similar social positions has received little attention.
On the other hand, several anthropologists, working
from a variety of positions sympathetic to Marxism,
have suggested that factional conflict within the elite
stratum explains the intensification, modification and
decline of elite power in chiefdoms and agrarian states
(Webster 1975; Earle 1978, 1987; Cowgill 1979; Kristian-
sen 1981; Brumfiel 1983; Gailey and Patterson 1987;
Patterson 1991). This volume extends their arguments to
suggest that conflicts within (both commoner and elite)
strata interact with conflicts between strata to determine
the course of political development.
First of all, competition between non-elites provides
frequent opportunities for leaders to expand their influ-
ence and power. As Spencer (Chapter 3) and Redmond
(Chapter 4) indicate, leaders in lowland South America
increased their influence by assisting individuals
embroiled in personal disputes or blood feuds. Brumfiel
(Chapter 8) suggests that mediating competition
between calpulli and teccalli groups for houses, land,
titles, and other resources was an important service per-
formed by city-state rulers in central Mexico prior to
Aztec rule. Pohl and Pohl (Chapter 13) indicate that the
Postclassic Maya elites, as patrons to their subjects,
resolved property disputes and defended community
resources against outside attack. And the military com-
manders of the pre-Inka Wanka prosecuted wars that at
least ostensibly defended community resources from
raids by neighboring groups (D'Altroy, Chapter 15). In
each of these cases, competition among non-elites moti-
vated commoners to subordinate themselves to a poli-
tical leader. The resulting alignments were factions.
At the same time, competition among political elites
frequently moderates the intensity with which com-
moners are exploited. In the tribal societies described
by Clark and Blake (Chapter 2), Spencer (Chapter 3),
and Redmond (Chapter 4) leaders compete with each
other to supply benefits to followers, although the suc-
cessful leader will also have cultivated his ability to call
in his debts at critical junctures. In chiefdoms and
city-states, rulers seek to finance their competition
against rival elites by enlarging the size of their tribute-
paying populations. Although this is sometimes accom-
plished through conquest, it can also be achieved by
offering commoners prime agricultural land (Earle 1978)
or a low per capita tribute burden (Pohl and Pohl,
Chapter 13) as inducements to settle. In pre-Aztec
Mexico, intense competition within the ruling class
enabled commoners to move from one city-state to
another, thus avoiding conditions of intense exploitation
(Hicks 1982; Brumfiel, Chapter 8).
The suppression of commoner residential mobility

may be a necessary condition for the existence of class
stratification in agrarian states. This could be accom-
plished through "social circumscription" (Carneiro
1970), as Pohl and Pohl (Chapter 13) suggest for the
Peten Maya. Or, it might be accomplished by the poli-
tical unification of a region, resulting in uniform con-
ditions of exploitation for the commoner class. Seeing
the advantages of unification, ruling elites might volun-
tarily surrender their sovereignty to an expanding
regional state (Smith 1986; Hicks, Chapter 10).
Commoners can sometimes exploit intra-elite com-
petition to their own advantage even without leaving
home. When plagued by oppressive rule, commoners can
support the efforts of some ambitious prince to over-
throw the incumbent ruler. Class warfare can assume the
guise of civil war between noble factions (Fallers
1956:247; Sahlins 1968:92-3). Thus, the suppression of
intra-elite competition is a second condition necessary
for the emergence of class stratification. Mechanisms for
unifying the ruling class include fostering a homo-
geneous elite culture (Pollard, Chapter 7; Brumfiel,
Chapter 8), elite intermarriage (van Zantwijk, Chapter
9), the rotation of status-conferring ritual and political
activities (van Zantwijk, Chapter 9; Pohl and Pohl,
Chapter 13; Fox, Chapter 14), and the forging of
patron-client relationships between the state and indi-
vidual members of the regional nobility (Pollard,
Chapter 7; Hicks, Chapter 10; Fox, Chapter 14;
D'Altroy, Chapter 15). Interestingly enough, a homo-
geneous elite culture, elite intermarriage, and possibly
the rotation of ritual responsibilities were present among
the Classic Maya, who never achieved regional unifi-
cation (Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13). Thus, intra-elite
patron-client relationships, backed by coercive force,
emerge as the most important mechanism for securing a
unified ruling class among the relatively non-bureaucra-
tic Aztecs and Inkas.
While factional competition affects the dimensions of
social inequality, class structure shapes competition and
alliance building (Lloyd 1965). In the tribal systems
described by Clark and Blake (Chapter 2), Spencer
(Chapter 3), and Redmond (Chapter 4), classes are
absent, and followers align themselves with the leader
who supplies them with the greatest immediate benefits.
These vertical alliances are shallow, extending only from
followers to the local leader. On the regional level, link-
ages are supplied by alliances between village leaders,
and these linkages are the most critical advantage that
incumbent leaders enjoy over aspiring rivals. Alliances
between leaders give incumbents greater access to exotic
goods and military assistance than is available to their
Introduction
rivals. Spencer (Chapter 3) suggests that efforts by
incumbent leaders to regularize relationships within
their alliance network might lead them to deal prefer-
entially with the heir of a deceased leader, initiating a
form of ascriptive leadership that could develop into a
permanent chieftainship.
Institutionalized tribute extraction in chiefdoms and
city-states makes available greater quantities of wealth
for elite competition and alliance building. Anderson
(Chapter 6) suggests that competition is most intense
when the material rewards associated with leadership are
greatest, and this is borne out by the high level of
factional competition within the elite stratum of the
chiefdoms and city-states described in this volume.
Internally, close kinsmen struggle to control leadership
offices; externally, leaders struggle to gain higher posi-
tions in the regional political hierarchy. Their allies in
this quest are an unstable coalition of consanguineal and
affinal kin and commoners raised to noble rank as a
reward for valorous military service. These coalitions are
held together by the redistribution of tribute wealth to
noble followers and the allotment of segments of the
tribute-paying population to the leader's strongest
rivals.
But the intra-elite competition, as discussed above,
limits exploitation, creating a chronically underfunded
ruling class. To augment their incomes, leaders make
war upon their neighbors, and, as Redmond (Chapter 4)
documents so convincingly, warfare in chiefdoms
reaches an intensity that is clearly greater than that
found among tribal peoples. To survive both internal
and external competition, leaders place themselves
under the patronage of strong regional leaders. These
vertical alliances have greater depth (three or four levels)
and territorial range than the vertical alliances found in
tribal "big-man" systems. Anderson (Chapter 6) sug-
gests that such systems are marked by a secular trend
away from intra-elite and inter-class relations based
upon display and redistribution toward the greater use
of force.
The unification of elites in a regional state permits
very high levels of tribute extraction. This surplus flows
to the paramount ruler who establishes himself as the
primary supplier of sumptuary goods and military assist-
ance to subordinate leaders. Thus, vertical alliance net-
works all converge on the state rulers while horizontal
alliances between local rulers wither away. State patron-
age permits subordinate rulers to enjoy a definite
in-group advantage over their local rivals. As in modern
systems of centralized patronage, the level of overt fac-
tional competition tends to be quite low.
 10 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel
The position of local elites is further weakened when
the state creates new territorial units and administrative
offices filled by members of the state's ruling group
instead of by local rulers. Such policies result in the
severing of ties between rulers and ruled and strengthen
class stratification (D'Altroy, Chapter 15). Sub-
sequently, these policies may give rise to disputes
between those who have traditional claims on resources
and those who derive claims from the new system, both
of whom must turn to the state for recognition of their
claims. The absence of local solidarity and the com-
petition between local factions for favorable treatment
by the state weakens the local capacity for resistance
(D'Altroy, Chapter 15; see also Dennis 1987). The
greatest threat to these states is factional competition at
the very highest level, within the royal family (van
Zantwijk, Chapter 9; D'Altroy, Chapter 15).
As states disintegrate, considerable wealth and power
may become lodged outside the realm of political control.
Blanton (1983) points out that associations organizing
craft production or exchange tend to arise during periods
of weakened state control. Religious power may also be
lodged in more or less autonomous institutions such as
the priesthood during Postclassic times in Oaxaca and
possibly also the Maya lowlands (Pohl and Pohl, Chapter
13; see also Patterson 1985). To deal with these groups,
political elites are sometimes forced to admit their
members to political office so that the interests of outside
groups coincide with the interest of the political elite
(Lloyd 1965:98). At other times, such groups promote
factional competition among political elites to maintain
their own autonomy. Aligning themselves with different
elite factions, outside groups may succeed in transform-
ing a tributary state into a broker state, in which factional
competition is overshadowed by competition between
functionally differentiated interest groups.
Factional competition and the archaeological record
Factional competition involves two complementary pro-
cesses: the construction of coalitions of support and
participation in political contests. In building coalitions
of support, leaders forge ties between themselves and
their clients, allies, and patrons. In political contests,
leaders exchange information on the strength of their
coalitions and determine who will control contested
resources (see Bailey 1969). Coalition building and con-
tests may occur simultaneously, as when leaders compete
to offer potential supporters the most attractive gifts.
Both alliance building and political contests leave dis-
tinctive imprints on the archaeological record.
Alliance building is frequently achieved through
exchange. Locally, the liberal distribution of gifts and
preferred foods is used to attract followers who are then
tied to the leader by their indebtedness for unrecipro-
cated favors (Sahlins 1968:88-90). Regionally, balanced
gift exchange establishes a pattern of mutual aid between
allied leaders while asymmetrical exchange (involving
the movement of staple crops upward and the flow of
valuables downward) characterizes relations between
local elites and regional paramounts. The valuables used
in these exchanges are scarce and highly valued, usually
owing to their foreign origin or the quantity of labor
involved in their production (Drennan 1976:357). The
valuables are endowed with symbolic meanings that vali-
date the alliances under construction; furthermore, the
valuables are distributed in ritual contexts that further
validate the relations of alliance.
The intensity and organization of alliance building are
visible in the frequency and distribution of exotic or
highly crafted wealth items, preferred foods, and
feasting paraphernalia in prehistoric sites. Clark and
Blake (Chapter 2) cite the presence of finely finished,
elaborately decorated ceramics and maize to argue for
competitive coalition building on coastal Chiapas by
1600 BC. D'Altroy (Chapter 15) suggests that the high
concentration of butchered camelid bones and certain
jar and basin types in elite households are evidence of
elite sponsorship of feasts at Tunanmarca, Peru. Since
there appear to have been few dietary differences
between elites and commoners, commoners were prob-
ably the guests at elite-sponsored feasts (see also Costin
and Earle 1989).
A more exclusive sphere of elite alliance building at
Tunanmarca is suggested by the restriction to elite
houses of metal working and metal artifacts. Metal was
probably used in gift exchanges that created coalitions of
support among political elites. In Barinas, Venezuela, a
similar restriction of polished stone jewelry (much of it
from extra-local serpentine) to elite contexts also sug-
gests the existence of a separate sphere of elite alliance
building (Spencer, Chapter 3).
The presence of non-local goods in non-elite contexts
might reveal another dimension of alliance building. For
example, in Early to Middle Formative Oaxaca, the
uniformity among households of the sources of obsidian
used suggests that obsidian was distributed to all house-
holds from a single point (Winter and Pires-Ferreira
1976). This could be interpreted as evidence that obsi-
dian procurement and distribution was used by a faction
leader to build a popular following (see Clark 1987 for a
discussion of how the procurement and processing of

obsidian provided opportunities for political entre-
preneurship in Middle Formative Mesoamerica).
Shifts in the frequency and distribution of prestige
goods, preferred foods, and feasting paraphernalia
provide information on changes in the structure and
intensity of alliance building over time. Anderson
(Chapter 6) argues that the declining frequency of pres-
tige goods in Mississippian chiefdoms marks the tran-
sition from leadership based on persuasion (which
required chiefs to build a mass following among com-
moners) to leadership based on coercion (which permit-
ted chiefs to limit their attentions to a smaller group of
strong-arm men). In the Valley of Mexico and the central
Andes, a decline in the frequency of vessels used in
feasting in the capitals of previously autonomous states
reflects the suppression of political competition among
local polities by a powerful regional state (Brumfiel
1987a, Costin and Earle 1989).
Marriages also play an important role in alliance
building. Unfortunately, the archaeological record only
rarely preserves evidence of marriage alliance. Stone
inscriptions from the Classic Maya constitute one of the
very few instances where such records are preserved
(Marcus 1976). Pohl and Pohl (Chapter 13) suggest that
the Late to Terminal Classic shift in stelae subject matter
from marriage to warfare reflects a secular trend in Maya
political factionalism from an earlier dependence upon
alliances among regional elites to a later pattern of
violent competition.
The construction of coalitions requires the production
of surplus wealth which can underwrite gift exchange
and feasting (Sahlins 1968, D'Altroy and Earle 1985).
Because the vast majority of production in agrarian
societies is household based, changes in the intensity of
factional competition should be marked by changes in
household size and composition. The initial stages of
coalition building ought to be marked by high birth
rates, polygamy, and/or the inception of dependent
labor within the households of faction leaders (Sahlins
1968:89, Coontz and Henderson 1986). Increases in
leaders' influence and power should be reflected in the
size and structure of a growing number of households as
the leader extracts increasing amounts of goods and
labor from a wider circle of clients and subjects.
Successful coalition building might leave its imprint
on settlement patterns. The size of the leader's settlement
may suddenly increase as it did during the emergence of
chiefdoms on the south Chiapas coast (Clark and Blake,
Chapter 2). The early expansion of San Jose Mogote in
the Valley of Oaxaca might also be an example of an
unusually large settlement created by successful coali-
Introduction 11
tion building (Flannery and Marcus 1983b). The suc-
cessful control of local rivals should be reflected in the
distribution of elite residences within a region, as in de
Montmollin's (1989:191-6) "Elite Forced Settlement"
measure - the proportion of elite residences found at
political centers compared to the total number of elite
residences in the political catchment controlled from
these centers. Alternatively, paramounts might favor a
policy of dispersing their rivals to a maximum extent
(Anderson, Chapter 6). A lack of control over rivals
might be indicated by evenly dispersed, tight clusters of
elite and commoner housing indicative of leader-
follower groupings well suited to factional competition.
Successful coalition building may also be evident in
constructions that by their size or complexity suggest
communal labor: raised fields and causeways in Venez-
uela (Spencer, Chapter 3), agricultural terraces and
defensive works in Peru (D'Altroy, Chapter 15), and
fortifications and monumental architecture among the
Mayas (Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13; Fox, Chapter 14).
The particular type of labor investment reflects different
strategies for competitive success. Agricultural intensifi-
cation may improve the leader's ability to attract follow-
ers by sponsoring larger feasts or by supplying them with
improved lands (Earle 1978). Fortifications suggest that
warfare provided wealth that a leader could redistribute
to followers (Webster 1975). Monumental architecture
might involve manipulation of the symbols of group
unity: the ancestral or patron deity. Such symbols would
be most prominent under conditions of competition at
the regional level as part of an effort to create bonds
between leaders and followers that could not be easily
transferred to competing leaders. Ethnic symbols may be
manipulated with similar goals (Brumfiel, Chapter 8;
Pohl and Pohl, Chapter 13). Public architecture also
suggests efforts to impress a regional audience of
potential allies and rivals who use the size of the building
projects to judge the size and commitment of one's
following.
Competition on the regional level often takes the form
of warfare. Warfare is archaeologically visible in a
number of ways: physical evidence of violent death and
the taking of war trophies, defensive works, large settle-
ment size, ephemeral site occupation, defacement of
public buildings and prestige goods, and depictions of
warfare in art and inscriptions. Drawing upon data from
Oaxaca, Kowalewski (Chapter 12) suggests that terri-
torially based competing polities on the regional level
might also be indicated by the occurrence of shrines,
boundary markers, and buffer zones between localities,
by roughly equivalent amounts of civic-ceremonial
 12 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel
architecture across subregions, by the absence of organic
solidarity between subregions, by the existence of subre-
gional differences in settlement patterns and ceramic
styles, and by a settlement plan in regional capitals that
provides representation of geographically affiliated sub-
regions. Many of the archaeological manifestations of
sociopolitical and spatial segmentation in the Valley of
Oaxaca are also to be found in the Classic Maya polity
analyzed by de Montmollin (1989).
Conclusion: implications for theory
This overview of factional competition and political
development has considered a wide variety of ecological
and social variables. Resource productivity, geo-
graphical boundedness, long-distance exchange,
warfare, kinship and marriage systems, rules of succes-
sion, class, corporate group structure, and ethnicity all
impinge upon the patterning and intensity of factional
competition and are, in turn, affected by it. The number
of variables discussed reflects the fact that competitive
advantage is pursued through the strategic manipulation
of many material and social variables; winning strategies
must be fabricated according to the resources available.
The relative advantages of extensive or intensive agri-
culture, attached craft production or long-distance
exchange, marriage alliance or warfare, ethnic assimila-
tion or ethnic persistence vary according to local circum-
stances. In addition, the efficacy of different strategies
varies over time, depending upon the development of
resources, alliance systems, and competitive strategies as
consequences of earlier rounds of competition.
Given the great variation of competitive strategies
over time and space, no two cases are identical. While
the logic of factional competition provides an essential
principle for understanding the course of local history,
the study of factional competition is unlikely to reveal
any universal laws of cultural development. The vari-
ables involved are too numerous; the strategies for mobi-
lizing resources are too diverse. Although factional com-
petition provides a common impetus to political
development, any particular sequence of development is
uniquely complex and contingent.
In the face of such complexity, it is necessary to alter-
nate between a subject-centered and a system-centered
analysis. A subject-centered analysis organizes ecological
and social variables by weighing them according to their
importance in specific competitive strategies. A system-
centered analysis reveals how the implementation of
strategies alters the quality and distribution of ecological
and social resources for the next round of competition.
A subject-centered analysis is also required in order to
account for the dynamics of political development. Poli-
tical development should be attributed to the efforts of
individuals to advance their goals of material advantage
and social esteem by joining factions or class alliances
that prosecute their interests in competition with oppos-
ing factions or classes. Competition occurs within a
structure or matrix of ecological resources, social rela-
tions, and cultural rules and values, which constrain
behavior but which also provide opportunities for
innovation. The growth of political complexity, marked
by the emergence of larger, more centralized polities
with greater degrees of vertical and horizontal differenti-
ation, is an epiphenomenal consequence of the strategies
and counter-strategies employed by leaders and follow-
ers engaged in factional competition and elites and com-
moners locked in class struggle (see Clark and Blake,
Chapter 2).
The methodological individualism at the basis of this
formulation might be criticized as a projection of the
competitive, self-seeking, pragmatic ideology of Western
capitalist society. This is partially true, although the
problem is ameliorated by situating self-interested com-
petition in specific ecological, social, cultural, and his-
torical contexts. Even so, such a formulation might be
inappropriate for analyzing the more expressive and
solidary aspects of social life. However, an assumption
of competitive, self-seeking, pragmatic social actors is
eminently suited to the analysis of factional competition,
for, as Earle (1987:294) observes, factional competition,
which is inherently a competitive, pragmatic process,
requires a maximizing strategy (see also Bailey
1969:36-7).
The subject-centered/system-centered approach to
factional competition and political development
adopted in this volume contrasts sharply with the
exclusively system-centered focus of both cultural
ecology and structural Marxism, currently the two most
popular theories for explaining political change in
ancient societies. Both cultural ecology and structural
Marxism focus upon strictly bounded, culturally dis-
tinct social groups. In cultural ecology, the social unit is
defined by external boundaries, created by geographic
isolation and by the competitive relationships that
develop between populations under conditions of
resource scarcity (Sanders and Price 1968; Carneiro
1970; Ferguson 1984). In structural Marxism, the social
unit is defined by its internal organization of social
production and reproduction under a guiding set of
social rules and practices ("structures") (Friedman 1975;
Godelier 1977:63).
 Introduction 13

Both cultural ecology and structural Marxism postu- duction, and social and ideological superstructure)
late the narrow constraint of human behavior and deci- resulting in structural reorganization (Friedman 1975;
sion making within these systems: by stringent consider- Godelier 1977:63, Bloch 1983:154). Power is not con-
ations of energetic efficiency in cultural ecology (Price structed by individuals, but rather falls to certain people
1982:719) and by the limits of structurally determined as a consequence of the prevailing cultural rules,
consciousness in structural Marxism (Godelier especially those allocating resources, labor, and product
1978:768). These same constraints operate equally for all (Godelier 1978; Bender 1985). In the initial phases of
members of society, implying a condition of cultural political complexity and social inequality, the conferring
homogeneity for human groups. of superordinate status occurs with the consent of sub-
Based upon such assumptions, cultural ecology and ordinate groups, with superordinate status falling to
structural Marxism supply accounts of the growth of poli- those who mediate between humans and deities, i.e.
tical complexity that are quite different from the one pro- those who control the imaginary means of social repro-
posed in this volume. Cultural ecologists believe that duction through religious ritual (Friedman and Row-
incipient political complexity occurs as a normal part of lands 1978; Godelier 1986:156-64; Bender 1985).
the array of random, low-level cultural variation present Like cultural ecology, this account of political devel-
in all populations (Price 1982:724). However, political opment is deficient. Its principal difficulty is that it
complexity begins to grow only after population pressure postulates consensus within the body politic prior to the
has created the need to intensify production within emergence of class and class struggle. While the consent
groups and to compete for resources belonging to others of followers is certainly needed by leaders in the very first
(Sanders and Price 1968; Carneiro 1970; Webster 1975; stages of political complexity (Clark and Blake, Chapter
Ferguson 1984; Johnson and Earle 1987:16-18). Through 2; Spencer, Chapter 3; Redmond, Chapter 4), evidence in
either expansion or emulation, the beliefs and practices this volume and elsewhere suggests that coercion and not
that result in larger groups with greater ability to organize consensus is a dominant motif in complex chiefdoms and
production and warfare prevail within a region. The con- is absolutely pervasive in agrarian states.
centration of wealth, coercive power, and prestige in the Cultural ecology and structural Marxism differ from
hands of political leaders contributes to managerial the approach taken in this volume in yet another way.
capacity by giving leaders the ability to coordinate larger, They both postulate strict behavioral determinism while
more complex populations (Webster 1975, 1976). this volume takes seriously the impact of human purpose,
This formulation can be criticized on two grounds. creativity, and choice. This difference derives from the
First, it proposes that population pressure and resource number of variables employed by each of the analyses.
shortages are necessary to initiate the process of political Both cultural ecology and structural Marxism employ
development and to maintain its progress. There is, models constructed of relatively few variables, which
however, empirical evidence to the contrary, presented necessarily limits human choice and agency to a few highly
in this volume and elsewhere. Second, in analyzing the redundant options. As a consequence, human behavior
concept of power, cultural ecologists focus attention on emerges as highly determined. In contrast, the studies in
the energy used to maintain competing populations and this volume consider the rich complexity of competitive
the information flows used to organize them (e.g., White strategizing, which involves the manipulation of every
1959; Price 1982; Wright 1969; Flannery 1972; Johnson conceivable ecological and social variable in complex and
1978). But they tend to ignore the relations of alliance contingent ways. In doing so, they broaden the dimen-
and dominance that brings organizational structures sions of human choice and leave room for the exercise of
into existence and maintain them. The manipulation of human agency. Thus, the willingness to consider the full
social relations is as important as the manipulation of complexity of specific historical situations restores the
natural resources in the process of political development, concept of agency to the study of social change.
a point which cultural ecologists tend to ignore (but not
always, see Webster 1975, 1976; Spencer 1982). Acknowledgments
Structural Marxists present an epigenetic model of Earlier drafts of this chapter were patiently read by John
political development (Friedman and Rowlands 1978). Clark, Timothy Earle, John Fox, Roberto Korzenie-
Political change is not due to the goal-directed strategies wicz, Hattula Moholy-Nagy, Mary Pohl, and Glenn
of political leaders but, rather, is a consequence of struc- Perusek. Their criticisms, comments, and line editing
tural contradiction (that is, the incompatibility of the shaped the chapter in many important ways. I am grate-
interlinked forces of production, relations of pro- ful for their help.
PART II

Chiefdoms

The power of prestige:
competitive generosity and
the emergence of rank
societies in lowland
Mesoamerica
JOHN E. CLARK and
MICHAEL BLAKE
Introduction
Explanations of the origins of institutionalized social
inequality and political privilege must resolve the central
paradox of political life - why people cooperate with
their own subordination and exploitation in non-
coercive circumstances (Godelier 1986:13). In the fol-
lowing pages we address this paradox for an archaeo-
logical case from Mesoamerica.
The first chiefdoms in lowland Mesoamerica, the
focus of this discussion, appear to have developed some
3300 years ago among the Mokaya in the Mazatan
region of Chiapas, Mexico, during the first part of the
Early Formative, 1550-1150 BC (all dates are in radio-
carbon years). This period also witnessed the adoption
of maize agriculture in the coastal lowlands, the found-
ing of sedentary villages, the adoption of ceramic tech-
nology, a rapid population increase, and the beginnings
of patronized craft specialization.
To explain these developments, we first offer a general
model for the development of hereditary rank distinc-
tions as the outcome of competition among political
actors vying for prestige and social esteem. We then
apply this model to the issues of technological and
demographic change in the development of social
inequality in the Mazatan region.
Resources, prestige and privilege
It is difficult to imagine why people would voluntarily
submit to non-egalitarian political systems. Despite this
perception, the institutionalization of political privilege
may have been quite simple; it may at first have been in
people's best interest. Nowadays, in addressing this
issue, we are hindered by hindsight and evolutionist and
functionalist thinking that regards change as reaction to
existing social problems. Binford (1983:221), for
example, states: "When I am faced with a question such
as why complex systems come into being, my first reac-
tion is to ask what problem people were attempting to
solve by a new means." As will become clear, we disagree
with this perspective. The development of social
inequality was neither a problem nor a solution. Rather,
it was a long-term, unexpected consequence of many
individuals promoting their own aggrandizement.
Briefly, we argue that the transition from egalitarian
to rank societies was a process that occurred on a
regional scale under special historical and techno-
environmental circumstances. The engine for change
was self-interested competition among political actors
vying for prestige or social esteem. We refer to such
political entrepreneurs as "aggrandizers," paralleling
Hayden and Gargett's (1990) term "accumulators."
Over time, some aggrandizers became chiefs with
institutionalized authority. Parlaying temporary prestige
into legitimate authority was the key process.
Primary assumptions
Our view of the origins of social inequality rests on
several propositions concerning human action, the for-
mation of factions, and the creation and deployment of
physical and social resources. Our most critical assump-
tions concern culture, society, and individual behavior.
Social systems are regularized practices. They lack
reason, purpose, or needs and are incapable of adapt-
ation (Giddens 1979:7). Only the actors within a system
share these attributes and are capable of adaptive
response. Purposive, motivated action becomes the
point of articulation between structure and the human
agent (Vincent 1978; Giddens 1979; Callinicos 1988).
Importantly, such action often sparks unintended con-
sequences for the system.
It is clear that actors are constrained by past practice
(history of system and structure) and opportunities for
future practice (e.g., available technology, physical and
social environment, personal social networks, etc.). Each
actor knows a great deal about his/her social system and
its constraints and limits under varying circumstances -
even to the extent that (s)he can manipulate aspects of
the system for personal advantage. We presume a
primary motivation of self-interested action based upon
culturally bound rational choice (i.e., "minimal ration-
ality," see Cherniak 1986). Obviously, individual
17
 18 John E. Clark and Michael Blake
motivations, desires, and reasons for action cannot be the
same for everyone (Callinicos 1988). Where numerous
people pursue self-interests, their interaction is char-
acterized by frequent conflicts of interests, internal social
tensions, and social constraints on behavior.
Specifically, in emergent chiefdoms or transegalitarian
societies, we postulate the necessary presence of ambi-
tious males (aggrandizers) competing for prestige within
a regional setting.l Aggrandizers do not strive to become
chiefs; the end result of political competition cannot be
foreseen by participants in the system. Aggrandizers
simply strive to become more influential. It is the suc-
cessful deployment of resources and labor that ulti-
mately ensures the social and political longevity of an
aggrandizer, and only certain environments can sustain
such behavior on a regional scale and a chronic basis
(Hayden and Gargett 1990).
Competition for "prestige" consists of rivalry for con-
tinual public recognition by supporters (with access to
their resources). Prestige is maintained by establishing a
coalition of loyal supporters, or a faction (Salisbury and
Silverman 1977; Bailey 1977). In this view, vying for
prestige is the equivalent of competing for people or
their labor power and support (Binford 1983:219; see
also Sahlins 1968:89-90; Gulliver 1977:44; Silverman
1977:72; Price 1984). It also involves competition over
the "management of meaning" and "interpretation of
behavior and relationships" (Cohen and Comaroff
1976:102); this probably relates to the emphasis on
oratory among tribal leaders (Clastres 1977).
Although our argument requires the presence of a
particular personality type, we consider psychology a
constant. Ambitious individuals are probably present in
most societies. The presence of such individuals is a
necessary but insufficient condition for the transition to
non-egalitarian systems.
Structure and social system
We assume that "all social systems, whatever their struc-
ture, contain the seeds of inequality" (Josephides 1985:1;
see also Beteille 1977). We do not view social evolution
as unfolding from inner forces, but we do maintain that
all egalitarian systems mask fundamental structural
contradictions which necessitate leveling mechanisms to
assert egalitarianism (Woodburn 1982; Matson 1985;
Lee 1990).
Cohen (1974:78) argues that all social systems involve
hierarchy, which suggests the presence of leadership with
attendant prestige, no matter how ephemeral. In egalita-
rian groups, hierarchy is likely to be based on age,
gender, and aptitude. Rivalries for temporary hier-
archical positions develop among many of those with
requisite ability to fill them. In addition to social differ-
entiation, all societies require a system of social evalu-
ation (Beteille 1977:9). These two necessary conditions
for any society lay the basis of social inequalities.
In our model we assume egalitarian groups or commu-
nities where great latitude exists in the degree to which
individuals may maneuver for prestige, that is, societies
in which prestige is possible, personal ambition is
allowed, and agents have control over the fruits of some
of their labor. The deployment of resources (or property)
as actors see fit involves usufruct rights within a defined
territory (Sack 1986, Hayden 1990).
Two more specific aspects of structure and social
system inform our model. The first concerns biological
reproduction. We concur with Friedman and Rowlands
(1978:204) that "reproduction is an areal phenomenon
in which a number of separate social units are linked in a
large system" (see Wobst 1974). Furthermore, we
assume patrilocality, with patrilineal descent favored but
not strictly necessary (cf. Allen 1984; Coontz and Hen-
derson 1986).
Environment and technology
Considerations of the environment should acknowledge
actors with conventional perceptions and constructions
of their "world" in symbolic interaction with other
people and objects (Blumer 1969:11). In short, "nature"
(including resources, physical features, and concepts of
space and distance) is subject to interpretive shifts and
even manipulation by interested individuals within a
given social system (Sack 1986; Helms 1988).
Using these resources, aggrandizers compete for
"prestige"; competition over physical resources is not an
end in itself. Nature is handed a passive role in this
process. Resources and technology circumscribe indi-
vidual choice but otherwise neither impede nor promote
social competition or development.
Only certain kinds of environments and resources will
sustain escalating exploitation by aggrandizers.
Resources must be accessible, productive, and relatively
immune to normal environmental perturbations (Coup-
land 1985:219; Matson 1985) - characteristics of r-
selected species, such as fish, rodents, and cereals
(Hayden 1986, 1990). Resource availability and produc-
tivity determine potential levels of accumulation for
social display and competition. In addition, the periodi-
city and extent of resource shortfalls is critical to the
development of political inequality on a permanent basis.
 The power of prestige 19

The environment must be productive enough to and establish significant ties to individuals elsewhere,
support a rapidly growing labor force, the followers preferably other aggrandizers who also seek outside con-
attached to an aggrandizer. In other words, aggrandizers tacts. The physical and social resources and knowledge
fair best in "intensifiable habitats" (Price 1984:225). Of thus gained allow an aggrandizer to compete more
course, the elasticity of a habitat to labor influx varies effectively within his own community. The aggrandizer
according to basic technology, social relations of pro- capitalizes upon innovation and risk taking (Schmookler
duction, and subsistence techniques. 1984:28). Enhancing prestige through innovation
Any transition to a non-egalitarian system requires depends on an aggrandizer's ability to convince
the emergence of new practices as a necessary prelude to potential beneficiaries/clients of the value of his
structural change. And these must be maintained and innovations.
financed long enough to make the practices habitual The conversion of external resources into social lever-
(Berger and Luckmann 1966; Bourdieu 1977). There- age locally requires (near) exclusive access to outside
fore, factional leaders must have access to important goods, material, or information (Gosden 1989). This
resources continuously over a period of years or even also allows the aggrandizer to operate partially outside
decades (Binford 1983:219; Earle 1987:294). One or two the sanctioning norms of his local group, where local
bad seasons can undo years of public posturing, faction norms are more ambiguous and easier to manipulate.
building, and prestations, with loss-of-face and Our model presumes a plurality of structurally similar,
depletion of stored resources and social credits. autonomous social groups or communities within a
While resource productivity and reliability act as region and a complex web of rivalry and cooperation
relaxed restraints on individual action, they alone cannot among aggrandizers and their supporters, in what has
explain the specific location, timing, or extent of social been called "peer polity interaction" (Renfrew and
development. An equally important consideration is the Cherry 1986).
geographic configuration of resources and physical Even the first steps of an aggrandizer's career involve
features which channel communication and social inter- interaction both within and beyond his home commu-
action. nity. Building renown commences in the nuclear unit of
production. An aggrandizer first accumulates deploy-
able resources by the sweat of his brow, and through the
Demography, social interaction, and rank efforts of his wife (wives) and children. The more wives
Demographic increase does not and cannot force people and children the better (Coontz and Henderson 1986).
to invent and adopt non-egalitarian social formations Since intensified resource procurement is a consequence
(Netting 1990). Although there is a strong correlation of increased labor input, it follows that larger families
between population size and level of sociopolitical com- may produce larger surpluses to invest in prestige com-
plexity (Cohen 1985; Keeley 1988), we view population petition. Multiple wives also provide the aggrandizer
as a necessary precondition or threshold phenomenon. with a larger group of affines for exchange partnerships
Population must reach a certain size and density before (Strathern 1966:360). In addition, multiple wives engen-
the complex social interactions that lead to the emer- der more offspring who later become a source of
gence of rank can occur. additional alliances (Redmond, Chapter 4).
Both intra- and inter-community interactions are The potential for social development of a community
essential in faction building (see Spencer, Chapter 3). is a function of its access to social resources, notably
Interaction within (1) the community, (2) the region, and people in neighboring communities and kinship struc-
(3) various regions (the area) includes both positive and tures. Such access depends upon relative topographic
negative social discourse, from trade and marriage to position within the region (Johnson 1977:492). Some
warfare (Price 1977, 1984). Cooperation and com- basic features of the landscape (e.g., mountains,
petition are complementary principles. To compete canyons, and rough ocean) will inhibit travel and com-
effectively, aggrandizers require the cooperation and munication to some areas; other features (e.g., mountain
support of indebted clients, probably including many passes, fords, and navigable rivers) funnel social contact
kin, and other patrons or trade partners. Competition is into specific areas. Inherent potential for travel, coupled
undertaken to maintain or enlarge this cooperative unit with distribution of critical resources, delimits settle-
or interest group. ment locations, sizes, population densities, permanence,
Effective competition at the community level requires and future growth. Some communities will be central
aggrandizers to traffic outside their home communities and others peripheral to critical natural and social
 20 John E. Clark and Michael Blake

resources. So too, some people are more centrally placed

than others vis-a-vis various social and physical
resources and can avail themselves of this advantage.
Thus, some aggrandizers will be better placed than others
to mobilize resources. Those with the most numerous or
strongest ties to different outside resources should be
best off.
The settlement pattern may be linear or non-linear (or
open). In linear settlement systems, each aggrandizer has
unimpeded access to only one or two significant neigh-
boring groups, as shown in Fig. 2.1. In open settlement
A. Unrestricted = 4.4 systems, however, potential for interaction varies sig-
nificantly from center to periphery; a community's terri-
tory can border the territories of two to six neighboring
groups. Note the difference in mean interaction between
linear and open systems shown in Fig. 2.1. Centrally
placed aggrandizers within open settlement systems
enjoy an advantage with more possibilities for inter-
B. Linear x=l.7 group alliances and for manipulating the ambiguities of
several different systems for their own benefit.
We expect social change at focal points of regional
social interaction, or in the central sectors of open settle-
ment systems. Rank societies emerge within a network of
interacting groups. One society does not hoist itself from
one social level to another; the process involves the
simultaneous emergence of a network of chiefdoms from
a network of interacting chiefs. In this sense, all pristine
developments are secondary developments dependent on
outside resources, alliances, and events. However, the
process is irreversible in most instances. Because social
competition is elevated to a new level among a plurality
of like units, there is no practical way to reverse the
process - and little incentive for doing so. Structural and
systemic changes shift the conditions for future develop-
ment and possibilities for action.

Perks, persuasion, and clientage

Fig. 2.1 Measures of interaction in unrestricted (A)
and linear (B) networks.
Returning to the question of the emergence of institu-
tionalized inequality, why would individuals in a subor-
dinate position surrender their liberty, equality, and
fraternity to a non-egalitarian system? Traditionally,
two answers have been proposed, one emphasizing vol-
untary "social contracts" and the other stressing "coer-
cion" (Service 1975). Both proposals have serious
flaws.
Theories of coercion often stress the importance of
warfare and conquest in the construction of social
inequality. Raiding does play an important role in
emerging systems of inequality as one way that leaders
can gain reputation and undercut the prestige of rivals

(Kirch 1984:197), seize booty that can be shared with
one's followers, or even obtain captives (Redmond,
Chapter 4). Of equal importance is the hostile
"meaning" attributed to the exterior social environment
and the increased prestige accrued by successful nego-
tiation in that domain. But theories based upon conquest
and subjugation are inappropriate for egalitarian soci-
eties (see Fried 1967:213-23; also Otterbein's 1985: Ch.2
for a cross-cultural study of war). On the other hand,
social contract theories are all teleological and/or func-
tional and thus logically flawed (see Dahrendorf
1968:165; Fischer 1970:155). In contrast to either of
these theories, we suggest that social inequality was an
unanticipated consequence of aggrandizers vying for
followers.
Aggrandizers cannot force anyone to join their group
or faction. Followers must be persuaded, coaxed,
cajoled, begged, bribed, and otherwise won over. Con-
sequently, aggrandizer strategies and tactics for per-
suasion must appear to conform to the self-interests of
their followers (Doob 1983:41; Bailey 1988; Spencer,
Chapter 3). Simply put, followers tag along because they
benefit from doing so, retaining the option of shifting
their loyalty to other aggrandizers should enough bene-
fits not be forthcoming (Wolf 1966:17). The most suc-
cessful aggrandizers are those who provide the most
physical, social, and/or spiritual benefits to the most
people on the most reliable basis. Thus, aggrandizers are
strongly motivated to increase rewards through
increased production and innovation.
Aggrandizers and followers, as social creditors and
debtors, construct complex webs of relationships as they
interact on different levels (see Lederman 1986). These
relationships are in constant flux and vary according to
the particular dyadic relationships considered. An
aggrandizer can be creditor to his group and at the same
time be indebted to other powerful partners (Strathern
1966). All successful aggrandizers begin as followers of
powerful patrons and acquire prestige from their pres-
tigious mentors.
The self-aggrandizing process is fundamentally a poli-
tical one based upon the simple principle of reciprocity.
We view personal generosity as the key competitive
process for forging a coalition of clients (Price 1984:224-
5). Aggrandizer gifts are eventually returned by their
followers in reciprocal exchanges. When this is not pos-
sible, unreciprocated benefits create obligations of social
indebtedness which become deployable social resources
themselves (Blau 1964; Sahlins 1968:88; Orenstein 1980;
Gosden 1989). Periodically aggrandizers must "draw on
the fund of good will" (Paynter and Cole 1980:66)
The power of prestige 21
created by previous acts of generosity to mobilize labor
and resources. The most successful aggrandizers are
those who can maintain a positive balance of generosity
and "gift-credits" (Lederman 1986); they give more than
they receive. This puts them in a socially superior posi-
tion which, if sustained long enough, can lead to the
institutionalization of social inequalities (Friedman
1975; Hayden and Gargett 1990). Apical rank societies
or chiefdoms are clearly prefigured in the organization of
personal followings or factions.
Rank or chiefdom societies, however, can only be said
to be truly in place when special privileges get passed on
to the leader's heirs. "Attention to processes of consoli-
dation of power shifts the focus from individual actors to
families" (Vincent 1978:187). The general process of
establishing succession is clear. Men of wealth, renown,
and influence can create opportunities for favored
dependants, "to effect differential patterns of marriage
choice" (Wolf 1966:6). Strategies for passing benefits to
heirs may also involve creation of heritable wealth
through patronized craft production (Clark and Parry
1990) or monopolization of important outside resources
(Gosden 1989). Orenstein (1980:76) demonstrates that
"rules of inheritance" are the key; we would also add
marriage rules and arrangements (Friedman and Row-
lands 1978; Collier 1988). To become habitual, at least
two generations are probably needed to allow for the
socialization of the majority of a society's members to
the changed social reality.
Summary
Our model of structural transformation considers his-
torical antecedents (system and structure sensu
Giddens), environment and technology, scales of social
interaction, and human agency, action, and personality.
It focuses upon "action" rather than "reaction" (i.e., in
response to ecological variables). In particular, the main
motivation is the self-interested pursuit of prestige, or
competition for followers, using a strategy of competi-
tive generosity.
Forming a coalition is inherently competitive. Suc-
cessful competition involves elements of luck, chance,
personality, and mobilization of social and physical
resources over a continuous period. As the process
depends on an unpredictable concatenation of factors
and contexts negotiated in social interaction, we cannot
predict specific timing nor precise location of initial
occurrence within a generally favorable environmental
and demographic milieu.
 22 John E. Clark and Michael Blake

Late Archaic (Chantuto phase) shell middens in the

The Mokaya and the origins of rank estuary zone probably represent seasonal accumulations
Background from occupations by residentially mobile hunter/fisher/
The Mazatan region lies in the highly productive section gatherers (Voorhies 1976, 1990). Towards the end of the
of the southern Chiapas coast known as the Soconusco - Late Archaic the Chantuto people engaged in long-
an area long famed for its productivity (Voorhies 1990). distance exchange for highland Guatemalan obsidian
Mazatan consists of closely packed environmental (Nelson and Voorhies 1980).
zones, with a narrow, low-lying coastal plain sand- The Early Formative transition began about 1550 BC,
wiched between a linear beach/estuary complex and the or 200 years after the last reliable data on the Archaic.
formidable piedmont/Sierra Madre mountain range The Barra phase (1550-1400 BC) witnessed the founding
20-30 km inland (Fig. 2.2). Specialized hamlets were of sedentary villages, presumably with agriculture, and
located within the estuary system, but the largest Early the introduction of ceramics. We refer to these Early
Formative communities occupied the central strip of the Formative villagers as the "Mokaya," an indigneous
coastal plain, between 10-15 m above sea level. The term meaning "corn people." The estuary shell middens
plain is crossed by numerous abandoned river channels saw only minimal use after the Chantuto phase (Voor-
radiating in a semicircular fan; until twenty years ago hies 1976), perhaps as a consequence of a shift in the
these served as runoff channels during the rainy season settlement-subsistence system from residential mobility
and supported garden plots at the end of the dry season. to sedentism.
These seasonal rivers and streams divided the tropical Hints of rank distinctions first appear towards the end
forest into a patchy mosaic of trees, shrubs, small of the Barra phase, with more convincing evidence for
lagoons, and swamps, ideal for a great variety and the following Locona phase, beginning about 1400 BC.
density of small fauna. The abundance of game is impli- Briefly, the indicators of Locona rank systems are (1) a
cit in the Aztec name - Mazatan, "place of the deer." two-tiered settlement pattern comprising small villages
and hamlets centered around large villages, (2) elite and
non-elite domestic architecture (Blake, Clark, Feddema
et al. 1993), (3) differential mortuary practices, (4)
unequal access to sumptuary goods and long-distance
imports, (5) attached craft specialization centered
around elite housemounds, and (6) redistribution within
each large community (Clark 1991). Artisans made
ceramic vessels and figurines, elaborate carved stone
bowls that imitated fancy ceramic forms, greenstone
beads, and, perhaps, textiles and cordage.
The following events or processes are implicated in the
emergence of rank in the Mazatan region: (1) a shift
from residential mobility to sedentism; (2) increased
emphasis on agriculture, including the adoption of high-
land cultigens such as corn and beans; (3) the beginnings
of ceramic technology; (4) rapid population growth; and
(5) the beginning of craft specialization. Rather than
causal, these processes are probably all related as
secondary indicators of a more fundamental process of
prestige building and competitive generosity. In the
remainder of this paper we assess the roles of (1) popu-
lation pressure, (2) the adoption of ceramic technology,
and (3) the beginnings of agriculture in this process as it
evolved in the Mazatan area.

Population pressure
As presented by Carneiro (1970), population pressure on
Fig. 2.2 Environmental zones of the Mazatan region. limited resources provokes agricultural intensification

and, later, when this temporary measure proves inade-
quate, wars of conquest and subjugation. In this view,
the transition to institutionalized inegalitarianism occurs
within a circumscribed zone once the limits of its carry-
ing capacity are exceeded.
Our hypothesis of competing aggrandizers turns
Malthus on his head. The objective of competitive gener-
osity is to attract more followers to one's locale and to
foment rapid population growth, including local
increases in family sizes and fertility rates. The emer-
gence of rank is coupled with strategies that bring more
people into a zone that is well below carrying capacity
(see Kirch 1984). Rank emerges in regions able to absorb
this increased population without deleterious effect.
Increase in local population is achieved through
mechanisms such as promoting immigration, younger
marriage, a higher birth rate, or even the capture of
slaves. In the Mazatan area, competition among aggran-
dizers for secondary wives could have effectively lowered
the age of marriage for women, and consequently
increased the fertility rate (see Hayden 1992). We expect
the emergence of rank societies to occur well below
carrying capacity. The process as we see it results from a
long-term distribution of benefits rather than the exer-
cise of naked force.
Radiocarbon years be
Fig. 2.3 Population estimates for the Mazatan region
during the Early Formative period. Estimates are based
upon a 50 km2 survey block.
The power of prestige 23
The uniformity in subsistence tools and remains
during the Early Formative suggests that the carrying
capacity of Mazatan was virtually constant throughout
this period; it may even have increased slightly as the
number of fallow fields increased (creating a greater
"edge" effect), and with genetic improvements in cul-
tigens such as corn (Kirkby 1973). Survey data for the
zone provide the basis for the demographic estimates
shown in Fig. 2.3. This population curve is based upon
the estimated hectares of occupation per phase for a
50 km2 survey block of 100 percent coverage. As
Fig. 2.3 demonstrates, the first major shift in popula-
tion corresponds to the emergence of rank societies,
countering the predictions of population pressure
advocates. Interestingly, the next major change antici-
pated another important political shift in the zone -
from a network of simple chiefdoms to a single para-
mount chiefdom.
Had the transition to rank society been prompted by
population pressure, one would expect it to have taken
place at or shortly after the peak of demographic growth
(i.e., near carrying capacity). Wars of conquest, as
argued by Carneiro (1970), merely reshuffle usufruct
rights of critical resources rather than provide a basis for
additional growth. In contrast, population growth as
part of the transformation process should evince rapid
change to the degree that nascent leaders compete for
followers. The Mazatan data support the notion of
population growth as outcome of social complexity
rather than cause.
Although settlement survey coverage of adjacent areas
is not complete, available data suggest that during the
Early Formative period the Mazatan area was ringed by
uninhabited or sparsely occupied land, signaling the
absence of any environmental or social circumscription
and, of equal importance, some population movement
from these areas into the Mazatan region.
Ceramic technology
Technological and ecological explanations of the origins
of Mesoamerican ceramics cannot account for the tech-
nical and aesthetic sophistication of the early ceramics
from coastal Chiapas and Guatemala. Barra-phase
ceramics (Fig. 2.4) from the Mazatan area are currently
the earliest securely dated examples (1550-1400 BC) in
Mesoamerica, but these thin-walled, hard ceramics are
finely finished and elaborately decorated (bichromes,
trichromes, incised, grooved, carved, fluted, and
gadrooned). This assemblage is clearly well developed,
suggesting an origin and development elsewhere. Alter-
natively, some investigators conjecture that earlier, less
 24 John E. Clark and Michael Blake
Fig. 2.4 Reconstruction of Barra vessels from the Mazatan region.
complex ceramics will yet be found in the Soconusco
region.
Were these early ceramics a local development, or
were they brought in from elsewhere? Both Coe (1960)
and Lowe (1975) speculate about Central or South
American origins. But with the benefit of more complete
assemblages from Mazatan and the areas to the south,
we now recognize only vague similarities between the
Mazatan pottery and pottery from Central and South
America. Notable, however, are (1) the apparent tempo-
ral progression of the earliest ceramic assemblages as
one moves northward from Ecuador to Mesoamerica
(Hoopes 1987) and (2) the stylistic dissimilarities among
adjacent early assemblages.
The Central and South American data suggest that the
earliest Mokaya did adopt the basic ceramic technology
from people to the south. Central questions, then, are (1)
why they chose to adopt pottery when they did, (2) what
functions the pottery served, and (3) how the process of
adoption occurred. We argue that the adoption of
ceramics was a result of competition among aggran-
dizers who brought in foreign technology and products
as part of their pursuit of prestige.
To place this hypothesis in perspective, we need to
consider probable historical antecedents to the adop-
tion of ceramics. First, we postulate the presence of
numerous aggrandizers within the Mazatan region and
a dynamic egalitarian network - a society of complex
hunter-fisher-gatherers (see Price and Brown 1985).
Second, these hunter-fisher-gatherers inhabited the
zone for at least 2000 years prior to the adoption
of ceramics (Blake, Clark, Voorhies et al. 1993).
Undoubtedly, the adaptation of these archaic Chantuto
foragers to their tropical coastal environment already
included viable container technology and food prepar-
ation techniques. The adoption of ceramic technology,
therefore, involved the replacement of some perishable
containers with ceramic vessels. Attributes of the first

TECOMATES
89.4 %
Fig. 2.5 Percentages of vessel types in the Barra ceramic assemblage.
ceramic vessels suggest they served a specialized func-
tion.
All Barra ceramics are finely made, flat-bottomed
tecomates or deep incurved bowls (Figs. 2.4 and 2.5). To
date, no plain, unslipped, undecorated vessels have been
recovered. Ceramic vessels mimic gourd forms (Lowe
1975; Marcus 1983a). We suggest these first ceramic
vessels copied then extant fancy gourd vessels. All the
techniques used to embellish the surface of Barra pots
are still used today to decorate gourds (see Lathrap
1977). Such techniques may have been used initially to
decorate gourds and only later transferred to the new
ceramic medium.
We postulate that aggrandizers borrowed foreign
The power of prestige 25
ceramic technology for personal advantage in displays of
competitive feasting. The aggrandizers might have sent
someone to the pottery-producing areas to learn the
techniques (or gone themselves) or, alternatively, spon-
sored a potter to come to the Mazatan region.
But if ceramic technology was brought in fully devel-
oped, how do we explain the differences in pottery styles
in the borrowing area (Mazatan) and the donor area
(Central America)? If gourd vessels (which may have
been elaborately decorated and expensive) were already
functioning in a competitive sphere of public/ritual
display, the containers most likely imitated by ceramic
forms would have been stylistically elaborate and
socially bounded already. That is, vessel style would
 26 John E. Clark and Michael Blake
Fig. 2.6 Reconstruction of Locona vessels from Mazatan region.
already have been socially meaningful or semantically
complex within special social contexts (cf. Steinberg
1977). Producing these vessels in a new and more expen-
sive medium (fired clay) would have enhanced their
value but not tampered with meaningful social conven-
tions. In contrast, the direct transfer of foreign vessel
forms and styles would not have been immediately
meaningful, in traditional conventions, and may have
been of less value to those seeking prestige through con-
spicuous consumption. McCracken (1987) demonstrates
that material codes, unlike language codes, lack genera-
tive capacity or combinatorial freedom. To recombine
the stylistic elements into a new form is to render them
meaningless. The material code (or combination of
elements) must be known in advance to be culturally
meaningful in social interaction. Consequently, different
social messages are conveyed by local and foreign styles.
Technological transfer in a milieu of competing
aggrandizers can account for those aspects of ceramic
technology that previous investigators found puzzling. It
would explain (1) the timing of the adoption, (2) vessel
style or exterior decoration, (3) vessel forms, (4) work-
manship, (5) the general function of these first ceramic
vessels, and (6) the development of ceramics during the
following phases. Timing was dictated by the heightened
level of social competition in Mazatan. Vessel style and
forms were predicated upon the style and forms of the
non-ceramic ritual/feasting vessels already functioning
in competitive social displays; all that changed was the
base material and some processes of surface manipu-
lation and finish. The sociopolitical functions of pottery
also account for the superior quality of the first vessels
(they were preciosities) and the unexpected absence of
plain, utilitarian vessels. Functions later relegated to
plain pottery continued to be performed, in the Barra
phase, by gourds or jicaras, net bags, and baskets.
Unslipped pottery became more common during the
following Locona phase, a time when techniques of

PLATES
and
DISHES
Fig. 2.7 Percentages of vessel types in the Locona ceramic assemblage.
ceramic manufacture were more widely known and con-
sequently less "expensive," and probably when the use
of ceramic vessels in competitive displays had lost its
novelty.
Barra vessels do not appear to have been designed or
used for cooking; instead, they are appropriate for pre-
paring and serving liquids (Figs. 2.4 and 2.5).2 Large
quantities of fire-cracked rock, dating to the Barra and
early Locona phases, may indicate non-ceramic-vessel
cooking techniques such as roasting and/or stone
boiling. But during the Locona phase (Fig. 2.6), cooking
wares were introduced, and the frequency of fire-cracked
rocks declined. In sum, we suspect that ceramics were
initially adopted more for their power to impress others
in competitive social displays than for their culinary
potential in food preparation.
We argue that the first Barra ceramics mimicked func-
The power of prestige 27
tionally specialized gourd vessels and that the range of
forms increased with time as ceramic technology was
applied to other functions. We would expect to see an
increasing diversity of functional types over time and a
greater range of execution (fancy vs. plain pottery). In
addition, the per capita consumption of functionally
analogous vessels should remain constant between
phases. All these trends are evident in Barra phase (Figs.
2.4 and 2.5) and Locona phase (Figs. 2.6 and 2.7)
ceramics.
Ceramic diversity increased through time with a
Locona-phase proliferation of fancy dishes and plates as
well as relatively plain tripod tecomates, perhaps used
for storage and/or boiling. Consumption rates between
phases, as gauged by ceramic counts per volume of
excavated fill, remained remarkably constant for highly
polished, slipped, decorated tecomates (Table 2.1). The
 28 John E. Clark and Michael Blake

Table 2.1. Consumption of tecomates during the Early domesticated maize were still not fully sedentary agri-
Formative, based upon the minimum number of individual culturalists at this time (MacNeish 1964; Flannery and
(MNI) pots. MNI calculated by refitting and analyzing Marcus 1983c; Flannery 1986); Mesoamerican corn was
rim sherds not that productive 4000 years ago. In line with our
model, we suggest that maize may have been adopted as
Tecomates Barra phase* Locona phase* a status food and not as some sort of far-sighted, pre-
historic agricultural improvement project. We should
MNI MNI/m3 MNI MNI/m3 not assume that plants were imported to Mazatan 4000
Fancy, slipped 74 9.7 118 10.0 years ago for reasons having to do with their function
Grooved 6 0.8 44 3.7 today.
Plain 0 0.0 44 3.7 We have argued that Barra ceramics were designed for
liquids, presumably liquids with ritual significance and
Total 80 10.5 206 17.4 prestige value for the giver. Maize may have been part of
this complex, introduced to the coastal area prior to the
* based upon 7.5 m3 of deposit. adoption of ceramics primarily for making corn beer, or
** based upon 11.8 m3 of deposit. chicha. Alternatively, it may have been used with choco-
late or as a drink in its own right such as atole; atole is
still an important ritual drink in Chiapas. Hayden (1990)
smaller proportion of fancy tecomates in the Locona argues that the domestication of plants and animals
ceramic assemblage (Fig. 2.7) results from the addition resulted from their deployment as status foods. While
of new forms, including utilitarian tecomates, rather this may not explain the development of agriculture, it
than a decreased use of fancy tecomates during the may explain the spread of some cultigens. Use of corn as
Locona phase. a ritual ingredient, or as an alcoholic beverage could
explain (1) the initial importation and special cultivation
Beginning of agriculture of this unproductive highland cereal, (2) the rarity of
The first clear evidence of agriculture in the Mazatan seed-processing implements, and (3) the minor contri-
region consists of domesticates brought in from the bution of maize in the overall diet during the Early
highlands. This may be another example of aggrandizers Formative period.
appropriating materials from outside areas in their
never-ending quest for self-promotion (see Hayden
1990). Domesticated corn and beans were both clearly Summary and conclusions
present in Mazatan by Locona times, and we suspect Our explanation of the emergence of permanent social
that these highland cultigens were first brought into the inequality from egalitarian sociopolitical structures rests
area during the Late Archaic. But several lines of evi- on six propositions:
dence suggest that maize may not have been very impor-
tant in the diet. We cannot evaluate the importance of 1. Egalitarian social systems contain the seeds of per-
beans at this time. manent social inequality in their structure of age, kin,
Corn cobs in Locona deposits are quite small (3-4 cm gender, and aptitude distinctions.
long) and not very productive. Our analysis of C13/C12 2. The development of permanent social inequality is an
ratios from twenty-eight human bone collagen samples unanticipated consequence of individuals pursuing
spanning the Late Archaic to Late Postclassic periods self-interests and personal aggrandizement.
show that maize (or other C-4 plants) was not a sig- 3. Temporary positions of prestige become hereditary
nificant part of the diet until the Middle Formative and legitimate positions of authority under limited
Conchas phase (c. 850-650 BC). For all Early Formative social and natural environmental conditions.
samples, the stable carbon isotope ratios are as low as 4. These changes result from the purposive action of
those for hunter/fisher/gatherers in many other regions individuals pursuing individual strategies and
of the world (Blake, Chisholm et al 1992). agendas within the structural constraints of their cul-
We suggest that the adoption of maize may have been tural system.
linked to the adoption of ceramic technology. Clearly, 5. The engine of change is competition for prestige -
maize was imported into a system already self-sufficient constituted as public recognition of status, rights, and
in basic foodstuffs. Even the highland peoples who responsibilities - among a network of aggrandizers.

6. Effective competition within one's community
requires that aggrandizers traffic outside their
respective communities and establish enduring ties
with individuals elsewhere.
These propositions have archaeological implications
that differ significantly from those generated by func-
tionalist/ecological approaches. Ecological approaches
see hierarchical, chiefly political organization as an
adaptive, structural response to social/ecological needs.
Therefore, to explain the change it is sufficient to docu-
ment the conditions or needs stimulating the adaptive
response. In contrast, we suggest that chiefdom emer-
gence must be explained in terms of the political process.
Anterior social structure as well as perceived environ-
mental constraints shape the emergent system. This
means that a great deal of variability may be expected in
the paths to permanent inequality taken by different
societies. Aggrandizers in different cultural-environmen-
tal contexts may employ some but not all of the various
options available. Although the broad outlines of struc-
tural change may be similar, specific conditions of
inequality will vary considerably from case to case as
each will have its own history.
But the focus on individual historical sequences need
not degenerate into a particularistic view of social
process that negates generalization and the search for
patterns. Our model for the transition to institutional-
ized inequality has several implications which can be
verified archaeologically for any test case. First, if the
emergence of hereditary inequality is indeed an unantici-
pated consequence of competition among aggrandizers
in transegalitarian systems, this transitional period from
egalitarian societies to chiefdoms should appear, archae-
ologically, neither egalitarian nor ranked. Many of the
standard trappings of chiefly societies will be absent
during the transitional period because they are still
unnecessary or, in some cases, not permitted. Once clear
evidence of hereditary inequality appears, the transition
is long past. On the other hand, if in emergent chiefdoms
constraints to wealth accumulation and public display
were undergoing modification, aggrandizers would be
allowed to produce and distribute subsistence and craft
items in excess of existing norms. Therefore, one might
find archaeological evidence of elaboration and experi-
mentation with status objects and social structures
which might become embedded in subsequent
chiefdoms.
Second, change would be rapid in transitional soci-
eties because innovation would be useful for competing
aggrandizers. In contrast, material culture, symbols, and
The power of prestige 29
sociopolitical structure in both egalitarian societies and
developed chiefdoms would be more stable with an
emphasis on perpetuating the traditional bases of power.
As sociopolitical structures develop so does the sym-
bolism of chiefly power and inter-regional alliances.
Their very existence leads to conservatism, thereby
dampening their own rates of change. Elite competition
within a chiefdom or among chiefdoms takes place
within the newly established, legitimate symbol system
based upon a limited range of recognized status markers
(Anderson, Chapter 5). Radical and innovative change
in symbol systems accompany major social structural
changes.
Third, aggrandizers, like big-men and chiefs, must
control or maintain access to a large labor pool in order
to sustain the high levels of production that both demon-
strate and further their influence. Thus, an aggrandizer
will value all innovations that (1) attract more followers
and (2) increase production to sustain those followers.
Novelties, whether arising from emulation or invention,
will be valued, especially those items that can be con-
trolled, managed, or manipulated by aggrandizers.
In evaluating this model of chiefdom emergence we
reviewed three lines of archaeological evidence as they
relate to population dynamics, development of ceramic
technology, and adoption of agriculture. As noted, we
expect population growth and nucleation to occur
during the transition to non-egalitarian society. At the
very least, population should not remain stable or
decline within the region of the aggrandizer interaction
network as long as resources can be intensified and the
system does not collapse. Survey data for the Mazatan
region show significant population increase and nucle-
ation during the early part of the Early Formative
period. The first evidence of population growth is coeval
with the first indications for competition among aggran-
dizers, during the Barra phase. This suggests that popu-
lation growth and nucleation - and the increasing labor
pool they imply - could have been consequences of
social and political strategies.
New technology is another expectation for a competi-
tive political environment favoring innovation. In the
Mokaya case, the first use of ceramics began during the
Barra phase. These highly decorated and well-made
ceramic containers were probably first used in beverage
preparation and consumption as an adjunct to public
feasting rather than in utilitarian functions such as
cooking. Such activities would have been crucial for an
aggrandizer trying to attract, impress, and retain fol-
lowers.
Finally, the adoption of agriculture in coastal Chiapas
 30 John E. Clark and Michael Blake

suggests a sociopolitical dynamic quite different from Hayden, Peter Peregrine, Elizabeth Brumfiel, and John
those postulated for other parts of Mesoamerica. Maize Fox offered many constructive suggestions on previous
and bean cultivation in the highland valleys go back drafts of this paper, for which we extend our appreci-
several millennia before the Chiapas Early Formative ation. The second half of this paper is a modification of
period. By the Locona phase (c. 1350-1250 BC) in our paper presented at the Circum-Pacific conference.
Mazatan, maize and beans were used frequently enough
to enter the archaeological record. However, it was not
until the Middle Formative that maize became sig- Notes
nificant enough in the diet to influence the stable carbon 1 Our use of masculine pronouns is intentional. Female
isotope ratio in human bone collagen. One possibility is aggrandizers remain a theoretical possibility, but their
that aggrandizers adopted an agricultural complex as a minor representation in the ethnographic record
means of growing new foods, one of which (maize) could requires explanation. An aggrandizer's competitive
be used in making alcoholic beverages useful in competi- ability derives in large part from his immediate access
tive feasting. They may also have cultivated a range of to the productive labor of his wife (or wives) and
other plants of which we have no material evidence. children, a form of familial exploitation socially justi-
However, the faunal evidence clearly indicates that the fied by gender ideology. Schrijvers (1986:25-6)
Early Formative Mokaya were fishers, hunters, and observes that "women cannot achieve political power
gatherers. Hunter-fisher-gatherers in other highly pro- [since] women cannot marry wives to work for them
ductive regions of the world developed simple chief- and increase their wealth."
doms. The Mokaya appear to have done so also. Maize 2 Two objections to our interpretation of Barra teco-
cultivation may have initially been a dietary supplement mates as vessels used for brewing, storing, and/or
of greater political than nutritional value. serving liquids have been raised. First, tecomates are
Much more research remains to be done to under- poorly designed to pour or dispense liquids - but
stand the transition from egalitarian to permanently pouring liquids is not implicated in our argument.
ranked social organizations. We are confident, however, Some of the smaller tecomates could have been passed
that the avenues for inquiry suggested by a focus on among participants, or participants could drink from
transitional political processes differ substantially from one large tecomate with straws (illustrated by Katz
traditional functionalist/ecological approaches - and Voigt 1986:28, fig. 6a for the Tiriki of Kenya).
especially those that consider established, early chief- Small gourd tecomates are still used by Maya groups
doms. Once the transitional process began, the socio- in Chiapas for ritual drinking. The second objection,
political order became fundamentally different, both that large gourd tecomates are used today to store
from what it had been and from what it was to become. tortillas and so may have served this function in the
past, stems from a naive use of ethnographic analogy.
Acknowledgments The first clear evidence of tortillas in Chiapas dates
Our research was generously funded by the New World only to the Early Postclassic period, c. AD 1000. If
Archaeological Foundation of Brigham Young Univer- tortillas or tamales were involved with the function of
sity, then directed by Gareth W. Lowe. We are grateful these early ceramic vessels, we would expect to find
for the opportunity to undertake the Mazatan Project. evidence of a greater contribution of corn to the diet
Barbara Stark, Barbara Voorhies, Jim Brown, Brian and evidence of using vessels in cooking.

Factional ascendance,
dimensions of leadership,
and the development of
centralized authority
CHARLES S. SPENCER
Introduction
This paper focuses on the processes and conditions that
promote the perpetuation of centralized, but non-
bureaucratic, authority. Patterns of leadership variabi-
lity in uncentralized tribal societies are first examined,
using examples from South American ethnography. The
growth of central leadership in such systems is seen to be
closely linked to the internal forces of factional develop-
ment as well as to the external dynamics of inter-
factional and inter-community relations. The paper then
discusses how the kind of achieved authority some call
"big-man" leadership - a short-term phenomenon tied
to a particular individual's political career - could be
transformed into a permanent, institutionalized chiefly
office in the trajectory of long-term (inter-generational)
social reproduction. It is proposed that such a trans-
formation, to be successful, requires the expansion, reg-
ularization, and close articulation of both the internal
and the external dimensions of central leadership. The
general points of the discussion are then applied to
archaeological data from Barinas, Venezuela.
Leadership dynamics in uncentralized societies
Anthropologists are showing increasing interest in pat-
terns of social differentiation in uncentralized societies,
those that lack formal institutions of central authority.
Social status in such systems is based primarily on
achievement during the course of an individual's life-
time, rather than on ascription at birth (Sillitoe 1978;
Paynter and Cole 1980; Keesing 1983; Spencer 1987).
And since the degree of one's success is strongly influ-
enced by such factors as personal intelligence, charisma,
motivation, energy, social relations, and luck, the result
can be a highly variable set of individual statuses over
the short term.
In a classic analysis of the dynamics of achieved
leadership status, Sahlins offered the interesting suggest-
ion that the individualized, achieved form of Melanesian
authority known as big-man leadership has both internal
and external dimensions, which he termed "center-
man" and "man of renown," respectively (1963:289-90).
"Center-man" refers to the internal political bond
between the aspiring big-man and the local faction which
supports him. It "connotes a cluster of followers
gathered about an influential pivot. It socially implies
the division of the tribe into political in-groups domi-
nated by outstanding personalities" (p. 290). "Man of
renown" refers to the external sector of political power,
"the side of the big-man facing outward from his own
faction, his status among some or all of the other poli-
tical clusters of the tribe" (p. 290). Sahlins argued that
the dynamics of achieved leadership are to a large extent
expressed through the inter-relationships - at times
mutually reinforcing, at times mutually contradictory -
between the internal and external dimensions of auth-
ority. Further, since the growth and decline of big-man
authority is a process keyed to the careers of ambitious
individuals, the result is the prolific generation of varia-
bility in leadership behavior over the short term
(pp. 290-3).
Achieved leadership is, of course, found in parts of the
world besides Melanesia, and is particularly in evidence
among tribal groups in lowland South America. The
Mekranoti, a non-stratified and relatively unaccultu-
rated village of Kayapo Indians in Para state of central
Brazil, refer to leadership by the native term benjadjwyr
(Werner 1980:89-90). Although at the time of Dennis
Werner's field work (1976-7) there was a single indi-
vidual in the village, Bebgogoti, who exercised more
influence than anyone else, and was called "the benjadj-
wyr" the indigenous term does not connote a titled,
hereditary office (p. 12). Instead, benjadjwyr refers to a
personal capacity to influence others, and is possessed to
varying degrees by several members of the village, each
of whom may be called a benjadjwyr (pp. 90-1). Among
the personal qualities important in determining who
becomes a benjadjwyr are intelligence, knowledge of
customs and crafts, fighting ability, generosity, fecun-
dity, breadth and depth of experience, age, and even
physical size (Werner 1984:50-1).
What Sahlins has called the center-man facet of
achieved leadership is clearly manifested by the
31
 32 Charles S. Spencer

Mekranoti in the politics of intra-village factionalism. faction to abandon the village, but Werner reports no
Bebgogoti's prominence derives to no small extent from cases in which a leader expanded his faction beyond the
the fact that he is the benjadjwyr or leader of the larger of limits of his home village (pp. 42-54).
the two major factions in the village, the men's society Success at factional competition, which I will call
known as meotot or "the long-tongued people" (Werner factional ascendance, can generally be attributed to the
1980:34, 92; 1984:235). Another man, Kokoreti, is the personal qualities of the victorious benjadjwyr, but of
benjadjwyr of the other men's society, the "armband further significance here is the external dimension of
people" or medakadjat (Werner 1980:34, 90; 1984:235). benjadjwyr leadership in the broader, inter-community
The relationship between each leader and his faction - arena. Werner's analysis reveals that generosity is one of
the basis of the center-man dimension of benjadjwyr the strongest factors correlating with benjadjwyr influ-
authority - is often expressed ceremonially, in the form ence (p. 149). A central strategy for factional recruit-
of advice and direction from the benjadjwyr about songs, ment and maintenance is the giving of gifts by the ben-
dances, and rituals (Werner 1984:51). It also has sig- jadjwyr to his followers, and the gifts considered most
nificant economic manifestations. In addition to the pro- valuable for this purpose are those from other communi-
ductive activities organized by each extended household ties and the outside world. Especially prized are shot-
(the woman's contribution to which is great), each men's guns, machetes, beads, pots, and other manufactured
society maintains its own communal gardens, conducts items from Brazilian society and hardwood bowstaves
separate hunting andfishingexpeditions, and engages in from other Indian villages (Werner 1984:27-8, 52). So
communal construction activities, all under the direction generous are the Mekranoti benjadjwyr that they often
of the benjadjwyr (Werner 1980:33, 89). end up with relatively fewer of the shotguns and other
There is an external or man-of-renown dimension to external items than their own followers (Werner 1980:12,
benjadjwyr authority as well. This is the side of the 148-9).
benjadjwyr as he looks out from his own faction toward It is clear that the process of factional competition
other factions within the village, and also toward the generates considerable leadership variability in the
world at large. Within the village, the external mode of village, ranging from a situation where several leaders
benjadjwyr authority is closely linked to inter-factional enjoy influence, but none emerges as truly dominant
relations, which are to a great extent competitive. Dis- over the others, to the opposite end of the spectrum
putes in the village are often contested along factional where factional ascendance produces a condition which,
lines and the men's societies even field teams to play in the short term, resembles the centralized authority
against each other at village sporting events (Werner structure of a chiefdom. In the latter case, the benjadjwyr
1980:33-4). Moreover, Werner notes that political com- of the dominant faction acts as a virtual community
petition between men's societies will intensify at times as leader, especially if his faction has completely absorbed
their leaders vie for greater influence in the village or supplanted all others (Werner 1980:41-54).
(pp. 33-4). While the influence of a benjadjwyr is posi- Yet, Werner's analysis reveals that benjadjwyr status,
tively related to the size of his faction, usually the men's even in its most centralized expression, has not been
society of which he is leader, the stability of such influ- transformed into a permanent office of chiefly leadership
ence is jeopardized by the fact that men freely choose in the course of Mekranoti social reproduction. The
which men's society to join (once they have fathered dynamics of benjadjwyr authority transpire in a time
their first child) and they may later change their affili- frame keyed to the life history and political career of
ation at will (p. 32). Thus, an ambitious leader will specific individuals. Even a very powerful benjadjwyr
necessarily be concerned with his faction's size, striving who leads his faction to political ascendancy will eventu-
to augment its membership through recruitment and ally be challenged by other ambitious men, grow very
doing what he can to discourage attrition. Since new old and feeble, die, or otherwise lose influence over his
factions are easily formed and old ones readily dissolved, followers. New intra-village factions may then appear,
a Kayapo village will have a variable number of factions and the cycle of factional competition will begin anew,
over time; the Mekranoti have had at least seven differ- leading in some instances to village fission, in others to
ent men's societies since 1930 (pp. 33-4). Occasionally, factional ascendance directed by a different benjadjwyr
an especially adroit leader may expand his faction to the (Werner 1980:41-54).
point where it becomes coterminous with the village as a Such cycles of factional competition are found among
whole, either by absorbing all the available male mem- other lowland South American tribal peoples as well. Of
bership or by fostering conditions that force a competing the Akwe-Shavante, an unstratified group in Mato
 The development of centralized authority 33

Grosso state, Brazil, Maybury-Lewis says: "Factionalism was weakening just then. Some of the Wamari mem-
is a basic fact of Shavante life. It is part of the scheme of bership had died in an epidemic, and another minority
things, in terms of which people regulate their behaviour faction, the Topdato, which had been allied to the
and order their conceptual categories. The factions are in Wamari, withdrew their support because the Wamari
perpetual competition for power and prestige and the ulti- held the Topdato responsible for the epidemic and killed
mate prize of the chieftaincy" (Maybury-Lewis 1974:190). some of their members (p. 176). At this juncture, Prapa
The native term which Maybury-Lewis translates as decided to act. He formed a new village, composed of his
"chief" is he a, yet it is clear that (like the benjadjwyr of the own recently enlarged Dzutsi faction along with dis-
Mekranoti) the he a is not a titled, hereditary office of sident Wamari and the entire Tebe faction, and relocated
central authority. "Chiefs are not formally installed nor it just across the river at E To, about 2 miles from Sao
is there any procedure for electing them, appointing them Domingos, leaving the Wamari as a much reduced poli-
or having them succeed to office" (p. 190). Any man who tical entity (p. 176, Map 2). Like the Mekranoti, then,
exercises leadership can be considered a he a, and there the Shavante exhibit cycles of factional ascendance and
may be more than one person in the village so recognized, decline, the dynamics of which are determined by the
each with his own faction (p. 190). internal ties between the he a and his faction as well as by
He a leadership has both internal and external dimen- inter-factional and inter-community relations.
sions. In the internal, or center-man mode, the he a
enjoys rather direct control over the members of his
faction (p. 191), while in the external sector his power is From achieved leadership to chiefly office
determined by the dynamics of inter-factional com- While factional ascendance is a major process leading to
petition, with relative factional size the most significant centralized community leadership over the short run, the
factor leading to competitive victory (p. 197). Once in long-term persistence of such authority is largely inhi-
power as leader of the dominant faction, the he a is bited, ironically, by the tendency toward factionalism
expected to act as arbiter for the village as a whole, a role itself. Among the Mekranoti, a dominant benjadjwyr is a
clearly shown during the occasional ceremonial food person at the nexus of a particular configuration of fac-
distributions which he directs (p. 203). tional loyalties held together largely by his own personal
One of the distinctive features of Shavante inter- qualities of influence and persuasion. Yet, we have seen
community life is the frequency with which individuals that it is a structure prone to dissolution, since new fac-
change membership from one village to another: "every tions are readily formed and an individual may change
community automatically grants asylum to refugees or his membership from one faction to another at will
seceders from other groups" (p. 205). Once the new- (Werner 1980:32). This fluid situation is further exac-
comers take up residence, they tend to join one of the erbated by a lack of regular correspondence between the
factions (dominant or minority) within their adoptive political bonds formed among the members of factions
village, often choosing a faction with which they have and other social links, such as marriage ties (pp. 282-3).
some prior ties (p. 206). Since the power of a given Also constraining the perpetuation of centralized
faction and its he a is determined primarily by the relative authority among the Mekranoti is the fact that even a
size of the faction, these immigrants become an impor- dominant benjadjwyr does not act as the exclusive media-
tant form of political capital (p. 206). tor between the village and the outside world. For
Achieving factional ascendancy requires a keen sense example, although Pykatire is not considered a benjadj-
of political timing. Maybury-Lewis describes how the wyr, he happens to be the only truly fluent speaker of
Dzutsi, a minority faction in the Shavante village of Sao Portuguese in the village, and is consequently a key
Domingos, managed to surpass the Wamari, who had figure in any transaction with Brazilians (p. 91). Several
been dominant for some years (pp. 175-8). The oppor- other men have been to Brazilian cities, often bringing
tunity came in 1960, when another Shavante village, back medical supplies or other goods, and have gained
Capitariquara, was breaking up, and some of its reputations as experts at dealing with the outside world
members came to Sao Domingos. Many of these new- (p. 109). Foreign goods are also brought to the commu-
comers joined the Dzutsi faction, because the leader of nity by such visitors as representatives of the Brazilian
the faction, a man named Prapa, had been cultivating government, missionaries, and anthropologists (Werner
inter-village kinship ties with them for some time 1984:27-8, 33^). Consequently, the flow of foreign
(p. 176). The Dzutsi faction was thus strengthened, and goods into the community is irregular, unpredictable,
it so happened that the dominance of the Wamari faction and largely beyond the control of even a powerful
 34 Charles S. Spencer

benjadjwyr. This has important political ramifications happens frequently because of an interesting contra-
since gift giving (especially gifts of extra-village origin) is diction lying at the heart of Shavante leadership: follow-
a key technique whereby a benjadjwyr expands his influ- ers expect a dominant he a to manifest quite different
ence (Werner 1980:148-9). Because the benjadjwyr lacks qualities from an aspiring he a. An aspiring he a gains
exclusive control over the importation of foreign goods, power by promoting inter-factional tensions and
but is nonetheless supposed to be highly generous, he rivalries, lending military and other support to indi-
will sometimes fail to please everyone with the limited viduals and groups in order to lure them away from their
means at his disposal and discontent will fester in the leaders and into his own faction. However, once an
village, detracting from his reputation and authority aspiring he a gains the ascendancy, this extreme partiality
(Werner 1984:50). is supposed to be supplanted by relative impartiality
Among the Shavante, the perpetuation of centralized (p. 203). As dominant he a he is expected to be an arbiter,
he a authority is also hindered by factionalism. The poli- showing tolerance and wisdom, "to act as peacemaker
tical structure built by an ascendant he a is a fragile one and to drown discord in a flood of oratory" (p. 203).
at best, and there is usually no paucity of ambitious men The dominant he a is thus in a position of some diffi-
eager to exploit any weaknesses that may develop in it, culty. "The qualities ideally required of him and the
as illustrated by the Dzutsi faction's route to political behaviour expected of him while he is in office are
ascendancy (Maybury-Lewis 1974:175-8). This inter- diametrically opposed to those of which he had to make
factional competitive climate is aided by the relative ease use when he aspired to the chieftaincy" (p. 204). Joining
with which individuals can shift residence from one the faction of an aspiring he a will often bring followers
village to another, joining a new faction in the process. more immediate benefits (usually in the form of military
"They regarded their villages as temporary aggregates support and, occasionally, wives) than they will get by
which could at any time undergo changes in mem- continuing to support a dominant he a. It is largely for
bership, perhaps even radical changes such as would this reason that the expansion of center-man leadership
alter the balance of power within them" (p. 205). The to other villages only helps the dominant he a to circum-
factional support base of a dominant he a can be under- vent factionalism temporarily.
mined by an aspiring he a who cultivates factional ties Now let us enter a more hypothetical domain and
with people in other villages (p. 176). By the same token, consider how the short-term phenomenon of achieved
it is in the best political interests of a dominant he a to leadership could be transformed into permanently
extend his own internal, or center-man, influence to centralized authority. Some clues can be found in
other villages, thus giving him access to a potential base Werner's study of the Mekranoti. At the time of his
of factional support beyond the limits of his immediate fieldwork, the Mekranoti were just beginning to manifest
community (pp. 205-13). tendencies toward leadership inheritance. Although the
A Shavante leader usually achieves such an expansion benjadjwyr had traditionally been a position achieved
of internal authority by cultivating bonds of reciprocal primarily through one's ability to influence others and
obligation with individuals and groups in other villages build up a sizeable faction, there was some talk in the
so that they come to recognize his leadership and, in village of letting the position pass on to the son of the
effect, join his faction (p. 176). Military assistance and current benjadjwyr.
marriage alliances are the two most common Werner analyzed this phenomenon intensively and
mechanisms for extending one's internal authority; in noted that the family of the current benjadjwyr has
contrast to the Mekranoti, the giving of exotic gifts has tended to have more contacts than others with visitors
played a minor role in Shavante leadership processes from the outside world, such as missionaries and govern-
(pp. 172, 205-13). Gift giving by the dominant he a is ment officials, apparently because these outside visitors
apparently limited to occasional distributions of meat found it more efficient to deal with a single family of
contributed by village hunters (pp. 202-3). "culture brokers" in their interactions with the village
Although the expansion of internal authority can instead of with the multitude of families at large
allow Shavante leaders to perform an "end run" around (1980:290-2). These contacts, not surprisingly, have
intra-village factionalism, this strategy usually does not resulted in the transmission of considerable knowledge
enjoy long-term success, largely because of thefluidityof about the outside world to the benjadjwyr and also his
factional membership (pp. 205-6). When the dominant sons. This knowledge has, in turn, contributed sig-
he a is perceived as unsatisfactory by the followers, they nificantly to the sons' influence within the village,
may switch allegiance to an aspiring he a (pp. 208-9). This thereby enhancing their own chances of some day
 The development of centralized authority 35

becoming benjadjwyr (p. 297). Moreover, by virtue of I would also argue, however, that the regularized
their contacts with the outsiders, the benjadjwyr 's sons expansion of center-man leadership, while a necessary
have access to foreign goods which they can use for gift condition, is also not sufficient by itself to ensure the
giving and concomitant influence building (p. 298). perpetuation of centralized authority. For that to occur,
Finally, some of the outsiders, notably government the benefits to the participants in the expanded center-
officials, have actually encouraged the concept of leader- man network should be such that they continue to
ship inheritance by indicating which of the benjadjwyr's support this political structure, even after the death of
sons they would like to see become the next benjadjwyr the leader who originally promoted it. In the Shavante
(p. 91). As a general conclusion, Werner proposes that case, the permanent extension of center-man leadership
"contacts with foreign groups may encourage leadership has been hindered by the relative decline in benefits
inheritance by making families of 'culture brokers' accruing to followers once an aspiring he a has attained
important in cooperation between societies" (p. 325). He the ascendancy. Yet, it would seem (in view of the
suggests that the appearance of culture brokers is par- Mekranoti data) that this situation could be ameliorated
ticularly encouraged when there are limited but highly if the dominant he a complemented his extended internal
important contacts between groups of people, such as in authority with expanded external leadership: by striving
the case of long-distance trade ties (p. 329). to become a permanent culture broker between his
I would propose, in accordance with Werner, that one group and the outside world, gaining access on a con-
of the conditions favoring the transformation of tinuing basis to exotic or prestige goods which could be
achieved authority into a permanently centralized chiefly used as gifts for supporters. This would enhance and
office is an increase in the kinds of inter-societal contacts regularize the tangible benefits to the followers and con-
that allow a leader to act as culture broker on a regular sequently their allegiance to the network of political
basis, expanding and regularizing the external dimension relationships constructed by the ascendant leader.
of authority. At the same time, I would argue that this To sum up, we have seen that the Mekranoti leaders
condition, though perhaps necessary, is not sufficient by have expanded their external contacts, but not the range
itself to favor the social reproduction of centralized of their internal authority, while the Shavante leaders
authority. Werner acknowledges this as well when he have achieved the reverse. In both cases, the lack of
points out that increasing external contacts will not regular articulation between the two leadership dimen-
necessarily result in formalized leadership inheritance sions has acted to counteract the development of per-
among the Mekranoti, because if individuals become manently centralized leadership. Extrapolating from
dissatisfied with their benjadjwyr, they may reject his these observations, I would go on to suggest that the
internal authority by switching allegiance to another reproduction of centralized leadership is favored only
factional leader (Werner 1980:302). Despite increasing when there is an expansion of both the internal and the
external contacts, the perpetuation of centralized auth- external dimensions of authority; causal sufficiency
ority has thus far been thwarted by the propensity to would ensue from the coupling of the two conditions,
intra-village factionalism. each necessary but not sufficient by itself. It should be
An additional condition, I submit, must also be met if noted that neither of these conditions entails the devel-
such factionalism is to be overcome: the internal dimen- opment of totally new behavior, but rather the regulari-
sion of leadership must be permanently expanded, not zation of behaviors that occasionally appear within the
just to the limits of the leader's home village, but beyond. range of variation exhibited by uncentralized societies.
The evolutionary significance of this step is suggested by The skeptical reader might, at this juncture, ask why
May bury-Lewis' finding that intra-village factionalism there are so many cases where the dynamics of achieved
can be circumvented by a leader who extends his internal leadership have not led to the evolution of chiefly auth-
(factional) leadership to include individuals and groups ority. A possible answer is that internal and external
in other villages (Maybury-Lewis 1974:176). The prin- authority must be expanded concurrently for selection to
cipal mechanism for accomplishing this, I suggest, will favor the social reproduction of centralized authority,
involve the establishment of bonds of reciprocal obli- and this is not an easily fulfilled requirement. In the
gation on an inter-village basis, manifested by the Mekranoti example, while external ties are growing in
exchange of goods, services, people (e.g., mates), and importance, leadership inheritance has been thwarted by
information back and forth between the village of the intra-village factionalism, which the benjadjwyr has not
leadership and the villages over which the leadership is yet managed to circumvent by extending his center-man
attempting to exercise internal authority. ties to other villages. Among the Shavante, a factional
 36 Charles S. Spencer
leader will sometimes expand his center-man authority
to other villages, but once he gains the ascendancy his
followers usually find that they derive fewer benefits
from supporting him than they did when he was building
his career, and the weakly developed external dimension
to his authority means that he lacks regular access to
exotic goods that he can use to reward supporters.
To draw a contrast, in those societies which anthropo-
logists commonly recognize as chiefdoms, the external
and internal facets of central authority seem to be far
more expansive, regularized, and coordinated in their
expression than is the case among the Mekranoti and
Shavante. Consider, for example, the ethnohistorically
documented chiefdoms of Panama (Helms 1979). In each
polity there was a permanent office of paramount chief,
called the quevi, whose rule extended outward from his
own village to include others within a radius of about a
half-day of travel (p. 53). When a quevi died, the office
was normally filled by his eldest son; if there were no
sons, the oldest daughter would succeed to the office, but
not until she was married to the highest-ranking avail-
able man, who then acted as regent for the office in the
public domain (p. 25). Beneath the quevi'in sociopolitical
status were the sacos and cabras, both of which acted as
village-level or territorial chiefs (p. 13). They came to
their positions, however, by different routes. The sacos
were members of elite lineages, and assumed office
through rules of succession that stressed male primo-
geniture (pp. 24-5). Cabras were men of commoner
descent who were granted elite status because they had
demonstrated exceptional bravery in battle (p. 13).
The internal dimension of the quevi's office is evi-
denced by the personal services and labor which he could
command from all the villages in his realm. There is
some evidence for a regularized form of rotating labor
service, through which members of the populace took
turns cultivating maize for the quevi (Espinosa 1864:491,
cited by Helms 1979:14). Commoners could also be
called upon for construction activities, hunting, fishing,
and participation in warfare. In return for their services,
the populace received food and drink distributed by the
quevi (Andagoya 1865:13, cited by Helms 1979:14). In
addition, the quevi was the acknowledged guardian of
the communal peace and moral order; in this capacity,
he mediated disputes between individuals, and was said
to have possessed the authority to put to death anyone
who lied to him (Helms 1979:14-15).
Material culture manifestations of elite status in
Panama can be seen in patterns of settlement, architec-
ture, personal adornment and burial behavior. The seat
of quevi authority was an elite center, sometimes referred
to in the ethnohistorical sources as a "town," larger and
with more impressive architecture than the villages of the
common populace (p. 8). Here, the quevi lived with his
family, servants, and retainers in the chiefly bohio, a
large and elaborate compound which served both dom-
estic and ceremonial functions and acted as "a visible
symbol of the chiefly estate" (p. 9). Since Panamanian
warfare emphasized attacks aimed at a quevi's head-
quarters, most of the elite centers and the bohio's were
ringed by defensive fortifications of various kinds,
including stone walls, timber stockades, moats, and
thorny vegetation (p. 9). Elite status was also exhibited
through the wearing of fine cotton mantles and valu-
able (often gold) ornaments (p. 16). When the quevi
traveled through his domain, he was carried about in a
hammock; upon his death, he was accorded an elaborate
burial (pp. 16-17).
The external dimension to chiefly authority is revealed
by the quevfs direction of inter-polity warfare and also
by his participation in networks of prestige goods
exchange with the elites of other, often quite distant,
polities (pp. 31-7). A variety of items - considered valu-
able because of their scarcity, distant provenance, or
highly crafted nature - moved regularly through the
networks of elite exchange, including gold (both raw and
worked into ornaments), fine sea shells, pearls, cotton
hammocks and textiles, elaborate pottery, salt, and fine
weapons (p. 35). Inter-polity warfare, endemic in
Panama, acted to reinforce the quevi's authority through
the periodic imposition of military discipline, and it also
brought the quevi and his followers various economic
rewards. The most important of these, according to
Helms, was more regular access to the networks of
inter-polity exchange of prestige goods. She notes that
warfare often occurred between chiefs whose domains
were far from major junctions on the exchange routes
and those who were more favorably situated; as an
alternative to war, alliances (often through marriage)
were established between distant and near chiefs in order
to facilitate access to prestige goods for the former and
broaden the political ties and renown of the latter
(p. 34).
Not only were the external and internal dimensions of
chiefly authority expansive and highly regularized in
their expression, they were also linked to one another in
a way that reinforced, and thus helped to perpetuate, the
office of quevi. The importance of this articulation is
revealed by Helms in her discussion of political com-
petition among high-ranking individuals for the position
of quevi. She argues that the rules of primogeniture
provided only a general plan of succession, and that elite
 The development of centralized authority 37

paternity, in any event, was often far from clear because graphically distant peoples and the development by elite
of chiefly polygyny and the extra-marital sex often prac- leaders of esoteric contacts with cosmologically and cos-
ticed by higher-status women (pp. 23^4). Most chiefs, in mographically 'distant' supernatural forces" (p. 50).
spite of their putative genealogical legitimacy, faced Such sanctification of chiefly authority, of course,
recurrent challenges to their authority from high-status greatly enhances the probability of successful social
competitors, and were consequently required to provide reproduction (Spencer 1987; Drennan 1976; Rappaport
constant evidence of their ability to wield power and 1971a). The importance of the linkage between the
thereby maintain the office for themselves and their heirs external and internal dimensions of authority is noted by
(p. 28). In addition to showing personal strength and Helms thus: "It must be emphasized that Panamanian
wisdom, a chief had to provide valuable gifts to his participation in such far-flung exchange activities is
followers "in order to reward loyalty, build reciprocal viewed not simply as an adjunct to chiefly activities,
obligations, and hold a core of supporters" (p. 31). interests, and affairs in Panama but as vital to the socio-
These gifts were usually the exotic and scarce prestige political dynamics of Panamanian chiefdoms" (1979:37).
goods obtained by the quevi as he exercised the external In sum, it would seem that a key difference between the
facet of his office in the fields of inter-polity warfare and uncentralized Amazonian tribes discussed earlier and
elite exchange (p. 32). the chiefdoms of Panama is the regularized expansion
Aside from facilitating gift giving, the externally and close articulation of both the internal and the
obtained prestige goods contributed to the legitimation external dimensions of central leadership in the Pana-
of quevi authority by symbolizing the parallel "between manian case.
the chiefly pursuit of esoteric contacts with geo-

% Archaeological sites
O Modern cities Okm 40km

Fig. 3.1 Western Venezuela, showing location of study area overlapping the
foothills of the Andes and the high llanos.
 38 Charles S. Spencer
Archaeology of chiefly development in Barinas,
Venezuela
From 1983 to 1988, Elsa Redmond and I conducted
archaeological survey and excavation in a portion of the
Rio Canagua drainage in the western Venezuelan state
of Barinas (Fig. 3.1). Though our work is continuing, it
is already evident that chiefly organization emerged in
this area in the middle of the first millennium AD.
Moreover, this development appears to have involved, in
line with the preceding discussion, an expansion of inter-
nal political authority to villages other than that of the
central leadership, coupled with an increase in external
inter-societal interaction mediated by this elite.
Our 450 sq km study region overlaps two important
environmental zones: the high llanos (savanna grass-
lands, between 180 m and 240 m elevation) and the
Andean piedmont, between 240 m and 600 m. In three
seasons of intensive regional survey (1983-5) we located
103 prehistoric sites; during the fourth and fifth seasons
(1986, 1988) we carried out 201 test excavations at ten
sites (seven in the llanos and three in the piedmont), as
well as horizontal block excavations at the largest site in
the study region. We have been able to define four
phases of ceramic-using peoples in each zone, lasting
Early Curbati' sites
A Early Gavan sites
0 km 5 ki
Fig. 3.2 Early Gavan and Early Curbati settlement patterns.
from about AD 300 until the European intrusion in the
1500s; this chronology is supported by a series of radio-
carbon and thermoluminescence dates (Redmond and
Spencer 1989; Spencer 1991). For the present paper, I
will concentrate on the first two phases of the sequence
(AD 300-1000).
Thefirstphase dates from AD 300 to AD 500-600 and
is called Early Curbati in the piedmont and Early Gavan
in the high llanos (Fig. 3.2). In the piedmont, only B8
shows evidence for occupation at this time, covering
2-3 ha. In the llanos there is occupation at three sites:
B12 (3-5 ha), B97, and B21 (3 ha each). We found no
earthworks associated with either the Early Curbati or
Early Gavan occupations.
The second phase, lasting from AD 500-600 to AD
1000, is called Late Curbati in the piedmont and Late
Gavan in the llanos. At this time there were six habita-
tion sites in the piedmont and thirty-two habitation sites
in the llanos, a large increase in human occupation over
the previous phase (Fig. 3.3).
Late Curbati sites lack earthworks and are all located
on remnant river terraces overlooking stretches of low
alluvium. In the Curbati valley, there are two habitation
sites, B8 (8 ha) and B20 (2 ha). Each of these sites has a

Curbati' Complex sites
Petroglyphs
Gavan Complex settlement hierarchy
H 1 st order A 3 r c | or der sites
center
A 2nd order sites a Drained fields
" " ' Calzada
Fig. 3.3 Late Gavan and Late Curbati settlement patterns.
boulder covered with petroglyphs, and there are four
other petroglyph locations in the Curbati valley (Fig.
3.3). No petroglyphs were found in our survey of the
Canagua valley, but there are four Late Curbati habita-
tion sites in the Canagua valley, none more than 2 ha in
size. Since the Curbati valley is widely recognized to be
the easier course for traversing the piedmont, it seems
likely that the petroglyphs served, in part, to mark an
ancient trade route from the llanos to the high Andes.
Late Gavan settlement patterns differ strikingly from
those of Late Curbati (see Fig. 3.3). There is, first of all, a
three-level regional settlement hierarchy with site B12 at
the apex. B12 is a 33 ha site with an impressive collection
of earthworks (Fig. 3.4). Two mounds over 10 m tall face
each other across a plaza 500 m long, and there are four
other mounds more than 2 m high, a number of elonga-
ted earthworks, and about 130 mounds 1 m or less in
height. Only the two largest mounds and the elongated
earthworks seem to have had a non-domestic function.
All the other mounds seem to have been housemounds,
and they exhibit considerable differentiation in terms of
housemound height, roofed-over house area, and associ-
ated artifacts, undoubtedly reflecting a pervasive prin-
ciple of social ranking here. For example, in our Area A
excavations we recovered a well-preserved housefloor
The development of centralized authority 39
with numerous postmolds atop a housemound 1 m high; the
roofed-over floor space measured 6.2 m by 4.5 m or 27.9
square meters. By contrast, our Area D excavations
exposed a housefloor with postmolds on a housemound just
55 centimeters in height; here, the roofed-over floor space
measured 5.2 m by 3.2 m (16.6 sq m).
Surrounding the occupation area of B12 is an oval
calzada or earthen causeway - eroded on its northwest side
- measuring nearly 1 km from one end of the oval to the
other (Fig. 3.3). Still as much as 1 m high in places, this
earthwork is about 8 m wide at the top and 20 m wide at the
base; excavations suggest a Late Gavan date. Other calza-
das lead off to the northwest, southwest, and southeast,
connecting B12 with a number of other Gavan complex sites
(Fig. 3.3).
The second tier in the Late Gavan regional settlement
hierarchy is represented by five sites: B97, B17, B21, B25,
and B30. These second-order sites have occupation areas
ranging from 6 to 12 ha and have from two to four mounds
ranging in height from 2 to 6 m. We have also located
twenty-six third-order village sites, which lack mounded
earthworks and range in size from 1 to 4 ha. Typical of these
Late Gavan village sites is B26, a 3 ha occupation where we
excavated sixteen test pits.
Just 1 km southeast of B26 is B27, 35 ha of drained
 40 Charles S. Spencer

Fig. 3.4 Topographic map of the Gay an site (B12), showing the major
earthen mounds, calzadas, smaller housemounds (dotted lines), the block
excavation areas (capital letters), and the test excavations (the small black
squares).

agricultural fields; both are linked to B12 by calzada
(Fig. 3.3 and 3.5). Because evidence for drained-field
agriculture has been located elsewhere on the llanos
(Zucchi and Denevan 1979; Garson 1980:327), we were
not surprised to find it here. In 1988 we mapped the
drained-field system and excavated four test pits (Fig.
3.6). Palynologist Milagro Rinaldi (1990) found that
maize pollen was predominant in a soil sample from B27,
implying that the drained fields were oriented largely
toward maize cultivation.
Though further analysis lies ahead, it is clear that
between Early and Late Gavan an impressive cultural
development took place on the llanos, manifested by the
emergence of a three-level settlement hierarchy focused
on a large regional center (B12), the construction of
monumental earthworks, considerable population
growth, the appearance of social status differentiation,
and the implementation of complex agricultural and
transportation technologies in the form of the drained
fields and calzadas. We feel that "chiefdom" is the
appropriate taxon for this development in view of the
evidence of centralized regional authority and, at the

same time, the relatively low degree of diversity in cere-
monial or public architecture at the regional center
(Spencer 1987, 1990).
There are indications that this development was
marked by the expansion, regularization, and articu-
lation of both internal and external facets of authority.
In Early Gavan times, the slightly larger relative size of
B12 may reflect the faction-building activities of aspiring
leaders here, but it is unlikely that the internal authority
of any such leaders extended much beyond their own
villages. At this time, none of the pyramidal mounds at
B12 had been built, nor had the calzada system been
constructed. The regional settlement hierarchy which
developed after AD 500-600 is surely a manifestation of
the expansion of the leadership's internal authority well
\ *B52
B98
It,QO
B97
5V
(
>
Fig. 3.5 The Gavan locality, showing the first-order center (B12), an adjacent second-order site (B97), nearby
third-Qrder sites (B52, B98, B96, B26), the drained-field system (B27), and the calzada system (dotted lines).
The development of centralized authority 41
beyond the limits of the home village. The calzada
network that linked lower-order sites to B12 must have
required for its construction a sizeable labor force mobi-
lized from several of the region's villages. Once built, the
network would have facilitated regular inter-community
interaction, as well as serving as a material symbol of the
regional political centralization focused on B12 that had
become established by Late Gavan times.
Another way that internal authority was expanded
and regularized in Late Gavan was through the elabo-
ration of a regional chiefly political economy. Our study
of the drained-field system at B27 found that it was
capable of agricultural production greatly exceeding the
nutritional needs of B26, the adjacent village of 10-20
households that undoubtedly farmed it (Spencer and
Gavan Complex sites
1 k
1 km
MN
i
V
\
\
CanoColoradio\ l"*!* "*
B27^VV\i ^
 42 Charles S. Spencer
Fig. 3.6 La Tigra (B27), the drained-field system. A network of canals connects two oxbow lagoons with the Cano
Colorado, a tributary stream of the Rio Canagud.
Redmond 1992). Since both B27 and B26 are directly
connected to B12 by calzada, it seems quite likely that
such surplus was regularly sent to the regional center, as
an expression of the political allegiance that linked the
villagers to the chiefly elite. The elite, in turn, may well
have mobilized the labor force needed to carry out the
initial construction of drained fields, as a way of extend-
ing the reach of their internal authority to agricultural
villages lying several kilometers from the center. The
continual flow of goods and people between the villages
and the center would surely have helped to regularize
and thus reinforce the centralized regional authority
emanating from B12.
There is also evidence that the external dimension of
chiefly leadership was considerably expanded between
Early and Late Gavan. This is most clearly seen in the
evidence for inter-societal exchange and warfare. In
several high-status Late Gavan contexts at B12 (and in
one such context at B21, a second-order site) we found
beads and pendants made of exotic polished stone,
including serpentinite as well as lithics made of a non-
local red jasper. A number of distant source areas for
these materials have been identified, including the
high Venezuelan Andes, the Caribbean mountains
near Caracas, the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta of
Colombia, and the high Colombian Andes (Wagner and

Schubert 1972; Wagner 1973; Carlos Schubert, pers.
comm. 1986; Ramon Sifontes, pers. comm. 1988). These
materials probably came to the llanos by way of the
petroglyph-lined route through the piedmont.
Warfare was another kind of external relationship
that evidently became more extensive and regularized in
Late Gavan times. In the lowest construction level of the
largest mound at B12 we excavated pieces of at least one
disarticulated human, which we provisionally interpret
as a sacrificed victim, possibly a war captive. We also
suspect that the oval causeway at B12, built at the
interface between Early and Late Gavan, could have
served, in part, as a defensive feature (Fig. 3.4). In our
excavation Area B, we recovered an alignment of carbo-
nized postmolds along the centerline of the western leg
of the oval causeway, suggesting that it once bore a
palisade. Signs of warfare are prevalent at the end of the
Late Gavan occupation as well. Not only the palisade
but also the latest level of the Area A housemound
showed signs of burning, as did many of the uppermost
levels of our excavations at B12. Perhaps this elite center
was set afire by attackers at the end of its occupation.
While we have more analysis to do on this score, the
evidence for violence and warfare from the beginning to
the very end of Late Gavan suggests that this was a
regular phenomenon. And, since we found evidence for
fortifications, possible human sacrifice, and conflag-
ration in our excavations at B12, and not at the other
Late Gavan sites, we suspect that the regional elite were
heavily and differentially involved in directing both
offensive and defensive forms of warfare.
How did the internal organization of the Gavan polity
articulate with external exchange and warfare? One clue
is provided by the potential for surplus production at the
drained-field system (B27). Since B12 itself is situated
adjacent to a very broad expanse of fertile and well-
drained alluvium, it seems unlikely that all the surplus
generated by B26/B27 - not to mention the surplus that
may have been produced by other villages - was required
for the basic subsistence needs of B12's inhabitants.
There must have been other important uses. I suggest
that in peaceful times a good part of this surplus could
have been used by the Gavan elite for exchange pur-
poses. When war threatened, on the other hand, surplus
production could have been directed toward generating
The development of centralized authority 43
a stockpile of food, to be stored with other supplies at
the regional center and used to provision warriors and
others during battles and sieges. Morey (1975:252, 255,
257-69) notes that sixteenth-century llanos groups often
exchanged lowland agricultural products for workable
stone and other highland items. She also describes how
one sixteenth-century llanos society used a "palisade of
tree trunks and earth" to fortify the "main village,"
which was kept well supplied in case of surprise attack
(p. 280). While standing armies were not maintained,
regional chiefs could muster temporaryfightingforces of
considerable size from the villages of their domain
(p. 277). In Late Gavan times, the calzada system
undoubtedly facilitated the movement of both surplus
goods and mustered warriors into the regional center.
Thus, during periods of peace as well as in times of war,
the political economy of the internal domain was linked
to the dynamics of external relations.
Acknowledgments
The archaeological research conducted by Elsa
Redmond and the author in Barinas, Venezuela, has
been funded by grants from the National Science
Foundation (BNS-8506192), the Wenner-Gren Foun-
dation (No. 4798), the Connecticut Research Foun-
dation (No. 00220-35-220), and a University of Con-
necticut Faculty Fellowship. Our colleagues at the
Departamento de Antropologia, Instituto Venezolano
de Investigaciones Cientificas (IVIC), Caracas, where
we are colaboradores visitantes, have been exceptionally
cordial and helpful over the years. We are especially
grateful to Dra Erika Wagner, Dr Carlos Schubert,
Dra Alberta Zucchi, Dr Jesus Eduardo Vaz, Rafael
Gasson, Lilliam Arvelo, Ines Frias, Arturo Jaimes,
Luis Molina, and Professor Ramon Sifontes. In
Barinas, we have been aided by Maria Andueza, Rafael
Gasson, Ines Frias, Javier Fernandez, Pablo Novoa,
Alejo Novoa, Lucio Laviano, and Raiza Ron. Figs.
3.1, 3.3, 3.4, and 3.6 are reproduced with the per-
mission of the Museum of Anthropology, University of
Michigan. Figs. 3.2 and 3.5 are reproduced with the
permission of World Archaeology. Elsa Redmond and
Elizabeth Brumfiel offered helpful comments on an
earlier draft of this paper.

External warfare and the
internal politics of northern
South American tribes and
chiefdoms
ELSA M. REDMOND
Warfare is often cited as an important factor in the
evolution of complex societies, though usually it appears
at the end of a long list of factors that contributed to the
development of chiefdoms and states, with little or no
attempt to examine its precise operation and its contri-
bution to the internal politics of these societies. A
notable exception is Robert Carneiro, who views
warfare as a significant mechanism of political evolution,
which under certain conditions of circumscription can
give rise to the aggregation of autonomous villages
under the permanent leadership of paramount chiefs, a
critical step in political evolution (Carneiro 1981:38).
In weighing some of the factors that have been set
forth to account for the development of chiefdoms and
their centralized decision-making hierarchies, Carneiro
attempts to distinguish between those factors that merely
play a consolidating role in the emergence and legiti-
mation of chiefdoms, and the source of the chief's poli-
tical power in the first place. It is the chief's power which
enables him to transcend the collective decision-making
organization of uncentralized tribesmen and institution-
alize a highly centralized decision-making organization
with himself at the apex of a regional hierarchy of village
chiefs under his control. If we are to explain the origin of
chiefdoms, suggests Carneiro, we must look beyond
some of the consequences of chiefly political power and
seek the source of power that permits a chief to exercise
centralized, hereditary leadership over his subjects (Car-
neiro 1981:57-8,61,63).
One way to seek the source of chiefly power is to assess
the role that warfare can play in the development of
centralized chiefly decision making. Having spent some
time reviewing ethnographic and ethnohistoric descrip-
44
tions of northern South American tribes and chiefdoms,
I am impressed by the omnipresence of warfare among
these societies. I wish then to compare all aspects of this
phenomenon as it affects warring tribesmen of northern
South America to the warfare pursued by some of the
chiefdoms that were encountered in the Circum-
Caribbean area in the sixteenth century.
I will be concentrating on the kind of warfare con-
ducted by war parties outside the autonomous tribal
village and beyond the boundaries of a chiefdom, which
I call external warfare.1 As we shall see, there are certain
similarities and differences between the warfare strate-
gies of autonomous tribal villages and those pursued by
centralized chiefdoms. Since these Circum-Caribbean
chiefdoms are often considered to have arisen from
tribal societies like the Yanomamo (Steward 1948:6-11;
Oberg 1973:190-2), this comparative study of their
warfare strategies should elucidate some of the ways in
which warfare can be used by emerging chiefs to exercise
centralized regional authority.2
Tribal and chiefly warfare in northern South America
The following discussion of tribal and chiefly warfare in
northern South America draws upon ethnographic
studies by modern anthropologists and missionaries of
the traditionally militant Jivaro and Yanomamo tribes
in the upper Amazon and Orinoco basins, and the chron-
icles of some of the earliest European explorers and
missionaries who encountered numerous chiefdoms in
the Circum-Caribbean area in the sixteenth century,
including those of the Cauca valley and the Sierra
Nevada de Santa Marta in Colombia and those of
eastern and central Panama (Fig. 4.1). Obviously there
are problems in comparing the warfare patterns of the
Jivaro and Yanomamo (whose traditional way of life is
rapidly being transformed by their growing ties with the
nation states in which they exist) to the warfare
described for the mosaic of sixteenth-century chiefdoms
by their European conquerors. The incidence of inter-
tribal warfare among the Jivaro, for example, has
declined from the near-monthly occurrence of head-
hunting raids recorded at the turn of the century to their
yearly occurrence today (Harner 1972:204; Descola
1981:627). For their part, the militaristic chiefdoms of
the Circum-Caribbean rapidly became extinct in the
colonial period, making their relatively recent discovery
by anthropologists dependent upon ethnohistorical and
archaeological research (Steward 1948:xv-xvi, 1).
Nevertheless, the available ethnographic and ethnohis-
toric accounts reveal "a custom and war pattern that was
 External warfare and internal politics 45

0 500
N
1000
km 1
Tairona

I \ ir~ '
/ \
> y ^ ^ Yanomamo.
/Cauca/valley

y^jTvaro) \T^^^

Hi
\ QZL
Fig. 4.1 Locations of the northern South American societies considered in this study of tribal and chiefly warfare.

widespread in northwestern South America at the time seizing of land, resources, and captives were the prin-
of the conquest" (Stirling 1938:41). cipal objectives of their expansionist warfare (Castella-
nos 1850:293, 333-5, 350; Oviedo y Valdes 1853:129;
Objectives of warfare Andagoya 1865:9; Trimborn 1949:201, 283, 368-9, 403;
Inter-village warfare among the Yanomamo and Jivaro Morey and Marwitt 1975:441).
is spurred largely by revenge and takes the form of
surprise raids upon enemy villages. The principal objec- Preparations for war
tives are to kill as many of the enemy as possible, and in Tribal and chiefly war parties are mounted according to
the case of the Jivaro to seize their heads as trophies; the different time frames, degrees of organization, and avail-
secondary objectives of a raid include looting the target able manpower. Those individuals interested in mount-
village of its valuables, and occasionally, abducting its ing a tribal raid in order to avenge a kinsman's death
women. Seizing land or access to natural resources is not face the often long and arduous task of persuading other
an objective of tribal warfare (Drown and Drown villagers and allies to participate. The process of recruit-
1961:98; Cocco 1972:388-90; Harner 1972:182, 187; ing warriors involves door-to-door canvassing, complete
Smole 1976: 79; Chagnon 1983:7, 110-13, 175-6, 180). with formal declarations of war, rhetorical arm-twisting,
The objectives of warfare among the sixteenth-century and promises of war spoils. Meanwhile, other prepar-
chiefdoms that I examined centered upon the warring ations are begun, such as planting distant gardens and
chiefs' quest for land and power. By mounting military even sometimes establishing a new village by the Yano-
campaigns that ranged from surprise raids to repeated mamo, and erecting a house for the victory feast by the
battles in broad daylight, ambitious chiefs sought to Jivaro, several months before the scheduled raid.
expand the boundaries of their territories and acquire The village headman or another renowned warrior
land, villages, natural resources, access to trade routes, will agree to lead the raiding party, albeit somewhat
as well as war captives and other exotic prestige goods. reluctantly sometimes (Chagnon 1983:188). The result-
Although revenge motives could incite warring chiefs to ing war party will number from as few asfiveor ten men
launch counterattacks against neighboring polities, the from a village to allied war parties of overfiftymen (and
 46 Elsa M. Redmond
up to 500 warriors at the turn of the century). Since
participation in a raid is not mandatory, it is common
for some of the raiders to suffer a variety of ailments,
including nightmares and sore feet, and they will excuse
themselves from the raiding party before it reaches the
enemy's territory (Up de Graff 1923:251-3; Drown and
Drown 1961:78; Harner 1972:184, 204; Chagnon
1983:182-4, 187, 1988:987; Lizot 1985:182-3; Valero
1984:242, 419-20).
The paramount chiefs of the Circum-Caribbean chief-
doms were pre-eminent military leaders who declared
war and mobilized their fighting forces expeditiously,
sometimes at the sound of a conch-shell trumpet or
wooden drum. They dispatched scouts to monitor the
enemy and messengers to warn their allies and summon
them to a war council. In this way, warring chiefs had the
capacity to mobilize large, allied war parties at short
notice, in a day or two at the latest, by one account
(Espinosa 1873:25). The size estimates of their war
parties range from a minimum of 100 to 500 warriors to
allied fighting forces composed of 4000 and up to
between 10,000 and 20,000 men (Castellanos 1850:270;
Oviedo y Valdes 1853:9, 117; Espinosa 1873:19-20;
Lothrop 1937:6; Cieza de Leon 1947:364, 374; Trimborn
1949:335; Reichel-Dolmatoff 1951:77).
The longer period of time spent preparing for a tribal
raid is also related to the fact that it is at this time that
the inhabitants of a participating village gather and store
food and firewood for their families, in anticipation of
the expected counterraid (Valero 1984:328, 342). Indi-
vidual warriors supply their own armament and their
wives prepare their bundle of provisions for the raid. In
contrast to the individual provisioning of warriors for a
tribal raid, warring chiefs provided the necessary arms
and provisions for their military campaigns. Storehouses
at their centers contained enough weapons and supplies
to arm an entire chiefdom. Fields were cultivated col-
lectively by the members of military alliances and
enough food and water were stored at their fortified
centers to withstand a prolonged attack. In the Cauca
valley, the fortified center of Nogobarco endured a
Spanish siege that lasted thirty-nine days (Castellanos
1850:557-9). When Gaspar de Espinosa stormed the
Panamanian center of Nata, his army reaped more than
a four months' supply of provisions from its storehouses,
which included maize, dried fish, three hundred deer,
geese, and turkeys (Espinosa 1864:488).
Organization of war parties
Once mounted, tribal and chiefly war parties exhibit
differences in their command structures and internal
social differentiation. Tribal raiding parties adopt at
most a single tier of command above the individual
warrior, in the form of the leader of the raid. Although
large, allied raiding parties might have more than one
such leader, the single tier of command prevails. The
leaders of raiding parties are usually renowned warriors
or village headmen, who in spite of their prowess and
reputation are considered just "greaters among equals"
(Chagnon 1983:6). The leader of a tribal raid is not
vested with any formal title or authority and his leader-
ship is informal and temporary in nature; "he leads only
by example and the others follow if it pleases them to do
so" (Chagnon 1983:124). Although the members of the
raiding party are theoretically expected to obey the
leader during their expedition in enemy territory,
"obedience, even on a war expedition, is often not as
rigorous in practice as it is in theory" (Harner 1972:185).
There is no social differentiation among the warriors
that make up a tribal raiding party other than by age and
by tribe in the case of allied raiding parties. The leaders
of tribal war parties are not distinguished by any special
insignia or distinctive body painting from their fellow
warriors. The war paint they anoint themselves with is in
large part for common recognition by other members of
the raiding party, and as they line up in the village
clearing "they form a straight line of naked, black-
smeared bodies" (Lizot 1985:181-2; Karsten 1935:288-9).
The war parties mounted by the Circum-Caribbean
chiefdoms manifested a two- or three-tiered hierarchy of
command. Paramount chiefs were the supreme military
commanders who led troops of warriors under the
command of lesser chiefs (sacos) and military captains
{cobras) (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:126, 129-30; Espinosa
1864:479). The ethnohistoric accounts mention special
war leaders who headed several large-scale, allied mili-
tary campaigns, but in all these instances of a third tier of
command the war leaders were brothers or affines of the
paramount chief (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:47-8; Espinosa
1864:494, 496, 508; Trimborn 1949:256-7). Moreover,
the social and military ranking of chiefly war parties was
readily apparent in the gold and feather insignia, armor,
hairdress, and body-painting styles worn by warriors.
War provided a public arena for chiefs, military captains,
and other members of the chiefly elite to display the
badges of their superior social and military status
(Oviedo y Valdes 1853:118, 130; Espinosa 1864:497).
Since each chiefdom was distinguished by stylistically
different war attire, large allied war parties further dis-
played the variable war dress and standards of the
multiple polities involved (Trimborn 1949:323-7). Thus,
the war attire of chiefly war parties was markedly

heterogeneous. It denoted both their internally ranked
or vertical structure and their allied or horizontal com-
ponents, and conveyed this information regarding their
group affiliation and internal social differentiation to
their friends and foes alike (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:118;
Trimborn 1949:324).
Pre-war rituals
On the eve of a planned raid all the members of a tribal
raiding party attend a public feast in the village clearing.
There they perform mock attacks, mourning ceremonies,
verbal exchanges, war cries, and warrior line-ups. The
leader or sponsor of the raid acts as master of ceremonies
and drillmaster, signaling their start and overseeing the
line-up (Karsten 1935:283-6; Harner 1972:184; Chagnon
1983:181-3; Lizot 1985:180-2). Like the practice of
anointing themselves with black war paint, these stylized
public rituals engender an esprit de corps among the
warriors taking part in a raid and reaffirm their common
purpose in war.
The pre-war rituals of the Circum-Caribbean chief-
doms were performed by the chiefs of a military alliance
and other members of the chiefly elite in the inner
sanctum of the paramount chief's precinct. Chiefs from
many neighboring polities in the Cauca valley gathered
at the paramount center of Guaca and invoked the
divinatory powers of a feline deity, who appeared before
them and counseled them to take up arms (Cieza de
Leon 1947:364). Upon receiving this augury, the
gathered chiefs attended a feast at which the objectives
of their military alliance were established in song and
performed to the accompaniment of drums (Oviedo y
Valdes 1853:127, 130, 137, 142). These pre-war rituals
were a chiefly practice, called for and presided over by a
paramount chief, that promoted the formation of military
alliances between chiefs and reaffirmed their joint
purpose in war.
War tactics
There are clear differences in the scale on which warfare
is conducted by the northern South American tribes and
chiefdoms considered here. Tribal revenge raids are
directed against individual enemy settlements that can be
located up to a ten-days' walk away, sometimes far
beyond their tribal boundaries, against groups "that
speak differently" (Harner 1972:183; Chagnon
1968a: 117, 1983:43). Raiding parties set out for war with
bundles of provisions for the duration of the expedition
and they stop to pitch a series of overnight camps along
the way.
No such overnight camps are mentioned in the
External warfare and internal politics 47
descriptions of the warfare waged by the sixteenth-
century chiefdoms, probably because their expansionist
warfare was usually directed against neighboring polities
at the boundaries of their territories (Andagoya
1945:396; Trimborn 1949:280-2; Reichel-Dolmatoff
1951:91). Although we lack precise estimates of the sizes
of their territories (Trimborn 1949:141-2; Reichel-
Dolmatoff 1951:55-8; Helms 1979:38-9), it has been
suggested that the distance to the boundaries of a chief's
territory would probably have been within a day's travel
from the paramount center (Helms 1979:53; Spencer
1982:6-7, 23). Thus, during the eight-day war between
the neighboring Panamanian chiefs of Escoria and
Parita, Parita's forces were able to retire from the battle-
field each day and be replenished with fresh troops on
successive days (Andagoya 1945:404).
Another measure of the different scale on which
warfare is waged by these tribes and chiefdoms is the
tenfold size difference of their minimal war parties; the
size difference has implications for the diversity of their
offensive tactics. The hit-and-run raids of tribal war
parties owe their success to the surreptitious ambushes at
dawn of target villages by attacking units composed of
two Jivaro warriors or groups of four to six Yanomamo
warriors, who silently await just the right moment to
strike. The principal tactic practiced by a Yanomamo
raiding party is to ambush and kill by shooting a
poisoned-tipped arrow one or more key male inhabitants
of the enemy village - such as the headman or another
renowned warrior - as they emerge from the village to go
about their early morning chores. It is only if the inhabit-
ants suspect an imminent attack and remain boarded-up
behind the palisade that the raiders might set fire to the
village's thatched roofs with fire-tipped arrows in order
to rout the inhabitants. And only after a successful raid
will the raiders let out war cries, as they retreat hastily
from the enemy settlement. (Cocco 1972:388-90; Harner
1972:185-6; Chagnon 1983:180, 184-5, 189; Valero
1984:73, 149, 332, 341, 353).
Chiefly war parties also practiced surprise raids and
ambushes, but their significantly larger fighting forces
enabled them to carry out their surprise attacks more
brazenly. As they surrounded a target settlement and
descended upon it en masse with "a rain of spears"
(Oviedo y Valdes 1853:118), their intimidation tactics
included setting it on fire, and emitting war cries. Their
furious cries were accompanied by the sound of drums,
conch-shell trumpets, and, in the case of the Colombian
chiefdoms, of flutes made from human long bones
(Castellanos 1850:270, 293-4, 322).
The sixteenth-century chiefdoms also waged open
 Elsa M. Redmond

advances and attacks in broad daylight. Their fighting Caribbean chiefdoms, the seizing of war spoils and acts of
forces were organized into troops that advanced deter- intentional destruction formed part of their larger mili-
minedly and met the opposing forces in close columns tary strategies. When the paramount chief of the Tairona
with double-edged wooden clubs or broadswords province of Bonda, Macarona, planned an allied attack
(macanas) and wooden lances, thirty or more spans long, upon a fortified Spanish settlement in the region, he
that were hurled or thrust. In a battle waged near directed his war leader, Coendo, to enter covertly and
Popayan in the Cauca valley, Andagoya's troops found attack the settlement with twenty warriors, and to seize
it difficult to break through the front lines of Apirama's weapons, ammunition, gold, precious ornaments, and
forces armed with these weapons; between every two women, before setting the settlement on fire. At that
warriors armed with lances were warriors with macanas, point he, Macarona, and 200 warriors would be waiting
who stepped forward to wield these broadswords and in ambush outside to prevent the inhabitants from fleeing
then retreated behind the line of interlaced lances (Anda- and join in the attack (Castellanos 1850:333-4).
goya 1945:439). Their fighting units were also replace-
able, for if the troops at the front suffered casualties, Defense
reinforcement troops were sent forward to re-form a Defensive considerations are a major factor governing
solid, fighting front (Espinosa 1864:497, 488). the location of all tribal villages. Tribesmen space their
With their greater manpower and organization, villages at varying distances from the villages of their
chiefly war parties were capable of waging day-long allies and enemies, no closer than a half-hour's walk
battles. They also conducted repeated attacks upon the apart (Ross 1980:49; Chagnon 1983:43, 52, 79). Uninha-
enemy, such as the battles that were fought over eight bited buffer zones and geographical barriers such as
successive days in the war between the chiefs of Escoria mountains, swamps, and rivers also serve to distance
and Parita in central Panama (Andagoya 1865:30-1). them from enemy villages. Certain defensible positions
Several Spanish explorers reported resisting multiple are favored over others for the location of their villages
attacks in one day by the same opposing forces; the (Smole 1976:47, 78; Ross 1980:47-8; Descola 1981:627-
record is held by Benalcazar, whose troops withstood 8; Chagnon 1983:178-9).
five attacks in one day from the same opposing forces in Northern South American tribesmen also fortify their
the Cauca valley (Trimborn 1949:363). villages by erecting wooden palisades, and sometimes
The larger, confrontational military campaigns double palisades, around them. Other defensive
mounted by the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms are measures include stackingfirewoodalong the outer walls
reflected in the available mortality figures. During a of the houses and installing interior partitions of wooden
tribal raid, such as the one formed by the Aguaruna and slats inside the houses (Smole 1976:67; Chagnon
Antipas Jivaro to raid the Huambisa Jivaro in 1899, 1983:10, 56; Valero 1984:339, 420). Traditionally, the
eleven Huambisa Jivaro were killed and beheaded (Up Jivaro erected war towers at the ends of their houses,
de Graff 1923:275). A chiefly raid, like the one con- raised over 6 m from the ground, which served as watch-
ducted by the Paucura against the Pozo in the Cauca towers and as places of refuge during a raid. The Jivaro
valley, could result in the slaughter of no fewer than 200 continue to lay a variety of traps and deadfalls along
victims (Trimborn 1949:388). major trails near their settlements, as well as to dig
There are differences, too, in the nature of looting and foxholes and tunnels inside their houses for protection
other destructive activities that tribal and chiefly raiding and escape (Stirling 1938:59-60; Harner 1972:206).
parties practice after a successful raid. The members of Finally, there is a minimal size for tribal villages,
victorious tribal raiding parties might - or might not - below which they become vulnerable to attack. For this
loot the target village of weapons, tools, containers, and reason, the communal structures or shabono erected by
other items, in a sportive manner. Occasionally, the Yanomamo villages generally house no fewer than
raiders might intentionally smash some ceramic jars and, approximately forty-five people, "for the population
before retreating, they might set fire to the village (Cocco must be at least that large to field a raiding party of ten
1972:388). The taking of war captives is not a general men and still permit a few men to remain at home to
practice among these tribes. When Yanomamo raiders protect the women" (Chagnon 1968a: 138). The scattered
abduct women, they take them as wives, and few raids households of the Jivaro have an average of nine
are designed expressly for this purpose (Chagnon inhabitants today, but in the past they resided in fewer,
1983:175-6). larger villages, more like the communal shabono of the
In the all-out warfare conducted by the Circum- Yanomamo, for the purposes of defense (Harner

1972:77; Ross 1980:54-6). Anticipated or actual raids
upon a village that has dropped below that size threshold
will prompt its inhabitants to relocate, sometimes in
conjunction with allied villages. The high degree of
settlement mobility and settlement nucleation among
tribal villages can be understood in part as defensive
responses to warfare.
In the case of the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms, we
know the most about the defensive measures practiced
by the inhabitants of the chiefly centers, for they were
nodal points in the Spaniards' campaigns of conquest.
They were often described by the Spaniards as fortresses,
where the paramount chief's subjects in surrounding
villages took refuge (Trimborn 1949:349). These centers
were located on high ground or in other defensible
positions, such as at the junction of rivers. They were
outfitted with imposing defensive palisades - sometimes
two or even three of them - that were built of tree trunks,
stone slabs, and columnar cactus. Not only were these
palisades difficult to scale and penetrate, but also some
Panamanian centers were ringed by still another line of
defense in the form of an outer moat (Espinosa 1864:510,
515). The fortifications of some chiefly centers in the
Cauca valley included elaborate ramparts and watch-
towers (Cieza de Leon 1947:368-9, 372-4; Trimborn
1949:129,347).
Although these fortified chiefly centers could with-
stand prolonged attacks, as did the center of Nogobarco
in the Cauca valley (Trimborn 1949:7), their defendants
also waged more defensive warfare tactics than do the
defendants of tribal villages. Chiefs quickly mobilized
their forces to take up defensible positions and hurl a
variety of missiles at the attackers; with stones, spears,
and lances, the forces of Panamanian chief Esquegua
successfully repelled two Spanish expeditions from his
mountainous territory (Espinosa 1873:34, 38). Another
defensive tactic involved circumventing the enemy force
and ambushing them in narrow passes, where the
defenders could cut off the enemy's retreat and over-
whelm them with a mightier force (Las Casas 1951:393-
4, 396). In defense of their centers and territory, chiefs
also came out in battle formation to meet the enemy
force in face-to-face combat, even to pursue and con-
front them repeatedly (pp. 393-6).
Aftermath
The opportunities for individual tribesmen to gain
power and prestige through warfare culminate in their
post-war rituals. Immediately following a Jivaro raid,
the victors sever their victims' heads and retreat from
enemy territory with these prized human trophies, which
External warfare and internal politics 49
imbue them with the vital powers or arutam forces of the
dead. The possession of arutam power increases a war-
rior's power, both physically and intellectually, and pro-
vides him with a certain measure of protection from
death (Harner 1972:139-42). That power is embodied in
the shrunken trophy heads that the killers prepare and
wear to the series of public victory feasts, some of which
they host (Karsten 1935:365-8). After the last victory
feast, however, the trophies themselves lose much of
their value. They end up as keepsakes to be hung from
the house beams, and, if not lost or exchanged, they
might be worn on social occasions (Up de Graff
1923:282-3; Harner 1972:191). It is by repeatedly killing
and seizing the arutam powers of their enemies, and
hosting victory feasts, that individual warriors achieve
recognition and positions of leadership in Jivaro society
(Harner 1972:141-2, 110-15, 191-2).
The post-war rituals practiced by chiefly war parties
began right on the battlefield, with the slaughter and
dismemberment of their victims on a large scale. So
many warriors suffered this fate during the war between
the Panamanian chiefs of Escoria and Parita that later,
when the Spaniards visited the battlefield, they "found a
great street entirely paved with the heads of the dead,
and at the end of it a tower of heads which was such that
a man on horseback could not see over it" (Andagoya
1865:31). Chiefly war parties in neighboring Colombia
not only decapitated and quartered the bodies of their
victims, but also drank their blood and consumed their
flesh and innards. Live war captives would eventually
meet a similar fate, either by beingfirstclubbed to death,
cooked, and eaten right on the battlefield, or by being
taken and fattened up in cells located in the chief's
compound, and reserved for sacrificial rituals presided
over by the chief at a later date (Cieza de Leon 1947:366,
368-9, 371-3, 380; Trimborn 1949:388-97, 416-20, 426).
We are fortunate to have Cieza de Leon's eyewitness
reports on the magnitude of some of the sacrificial rituals
that took place after the wars between chiefdoms in the
Cauca valley. After their allied victory over the Pozo, the
war parties of Carrapa and Picara consumed more than
300 Pozo captives and sent more than 200 loads of
human flesh to their settlements. Later, when the Pozo
defeated the Carrapa, Picara, and Paucura, the Pozo
chief and his retinue alone consumed 100 victims in one
day (Cieza de Leon 1947:372^; Trimborn 1949:388).
Those tribesmen who have killed during a raid must
observe a series of purification rituals that begin immedi-
ately afterwards, along the way home. During this
period of ritual observances, which can last from two
weeks to more than two years after the raid, the killers
 50 Elsa M. Redmond
take special baths, and practice various forms of absti-
nence and physical isolation (Karsten 1935:294,
299-309; Drown and Drown 1961:100-1; Cocco
1972:390-3; Chagnon 1983:186; Valero 1984:77-9, 82-3,
349-50). These purification rituals cleanse the killers and
help to protect them from the revengeful spirits of their
victims. At their conclusion, marked by a great victory
feast among the Jivaro, the killers emerge with haircuts,
fresh body painting, and other personal insignia, includ-
ing their shrunken trophy heads, and enjoy the status of
distinguished warriors (Karsten 1935:352, 360-4; Harner
1972:112; Chagnon 1988:987).
No such purification rituals are described in the six-
teenth-century accounts of chiefly warfare. The members
of victorious chiefly war parties do not appear to have
practiced any kind of ritual confinement upon their
return from war. Their post-war observances centered
instead upon the glorification and public display of their
military victories. After celebrating the ritual sacrifice
and consumption of their victims, the members of chiefly
war parties in Colombia displayed their skulls, teeth,
limbs, and flayed skins as war trophies. They were hung
from the doors of their houses and attached to the posts
of the surrounding palisades (Oviedo y Valdes 1852:355;
Cieza de Leon 1947:364, 368, 372, 378).
Although these post-war practices were not limited to
the chiefly elite, chiefs presided over the large-scale
sacrifice and ritual consumption of war captives in their
precincts. A chief's greatness was measured by the
amount of humanfleshhe consumed and by the number
of human trophies he possessed. Not surprisingly, there-
fore, we learn that Tateepe, the chief of Buritica in the
Cauca valley, ate only human flesh (Trimborn
1949:401). Similarly, the practice of displaying the
bones and flayed skins of their enemies was so much a
chiefly activity or right that in addition to adorning the
entrances to their residences and enclosures with "an
incredible quantity" of these human trophies (Cieza de
Leon 1947:378), chiefs erected special structures or
charnels in which to display them. For example, the
paramount chief of the province of Lile, Petecuy, dis-
played the dessicated, stuffed bodies of some 400 enemy
warriors in his charnel (Andagoya 1945:436). It seems
clear that the accumulation of human trophies on the
part of individual warriors was overshadowed by the
chief's practice of hoarding, sacrificing, and consuming
war captives on a large scale, and then publicly display-
ing their remains in his precinct. Moreover, these
human war trophies that substantiated a chief's military
might were regarded forever as prestige items. As with
other war spoils, the chief bestowed them upon his
followers and offered them as gifts to neighboring chiefs
(Castellanos 1850:332, 334).
Mortuary treatment
The mortuary treatment of warriors in these tribes and
chiefdoms corresponds to their social status in life and
the circumstances of their death. Taking up the latter
factor first, the bodies of warriors killed during a tribal
raid in enemy territory may be claimed later by old
women and carried home in hammocks, or else hastily
buried along the route home (Karsten 1935:292; Drown
and Drown 1961:98; Cocco 1972:386, 388; Valero
1984:261, 367). We have seen how the sites of chiefly wars
were strewn with the bones of war victims, from which we
can infer that the bodies of most warriors killed in battle
were left behind and subjected to the various kinds of
ritual sacrifices described above (Andagoya 1945:390,404).
Nowhere are the differences between the achieved
statuses available to tribesmen and the ascribed statuses
characteristic of chiefdoms as evident as in the mortuary
treatment of distinguished warriors. Great warriors in
tribal societies are usually accorded more elaborate
mourning ceremonies than other males their age, which
are designed to bestow the avengers of their death with
some of the very qualities that they had achieved during
their lifetime. Nevertheless, their final resting place is no
different from that of their fellow tribesmen, be it as
sub-floor or scaffold burials among the Jivaro, or as
ashes in small gourds among the Yanomamo (Harner
1972:168-9; Chagnon 1983:106, 186-7, 1988:986; Valero
1984:264-5, 359).
Renowned warriors in the Circum-Caribbean chief-
doms were awarded military captainships by their chiefs
and joined the elite stratum of society, along with their
wives, and sons, who were obliged to distinguish them-
selves in the art of war as well (Oviedo y Valdes 1853:130;
Andagoya 1865:12). Accordingly, these military captains
(cabras) were entitled to elite forms of mortuary
treatment and preservation, which included the above-
ground storage of their bodies in special funerary cham-
bers, or their burial in tombs (Castellanos 1850:342, 356;
Lothrop 1937:43-8; Trimborn 1949:198, 228, 368). Of
course, chiefs were accorded the most elaborate mour-
ning ceremonies and mortuary practices. Their rich fun-
erary accompaniments included the bodies of women
and war captives, who were sacrificed in order to serve as
chiefly burial retainers (Castellanos 1850:258, 276;
Oviedo y Valdes 1853:154^-6; Espinosa 1873:23-7;
Andagoya 1945:394-5; Cieza de Leon 1947:365, 368,
369, 374; Trimborn 1949:203,226-32; Reichel-Dolmatoff
1951:92).

From tribal war leader to paramount chief
If we look back at warfare as it is pursued by uncentra-
lized tribesmen and by chiefs who exercise centralized
regional authority, it is easy to spot the limitations of the
former's consensus-based decision making. The indi-
vidual war pursuits of tribesmen for the purposes of
seeking blood revenge and prestige are supplanted in
chiefdoms by the chief's ambitious military pursuits,
through which he enlarges his authority over his regional
domain. As supreme war leader, a chief accomplishes his
military objectives by stockpiling armaments and pro-
visions, presiding over war councils and divinatory
rituals with neighboring chiefs, and leading large, allied
fighting forces commanded by military captains. In con-
trast to the extended war preparations for a tribal raid, a
chief has the capacity to mobilize his fighting forces
expeditiously.
With their larger, hierarchically organized fighting
forces, chiefly war parties can sweep through enemy
territory and attack multiple settlements. Whereas
repeated tribal raids can eventually take their toll on the
supply of available warriors (Stirling 1938:40), chiefs can
mobilize fighting forces that are large enough to enable
them to reinforce their front lines tenfold with fresh
troops during their day-long battles, and to launch
repeated attacks. In times of war, the chief's subjects can
seek refuge at his fortified center, where they can either
withstand a prolonged attack, or take up arms and wage
war in the defense of their chief's center and territory.
With their centralized decision-making organization,
chiefdoms "can respond to system-endangering changes
in the environment with much more sensitivity, speed,
precision, and flexibility" (Rappaport 1971b:66) than
can uncentralized tribesmen.
Sources of power
In view of the advantages of centralized decision making
in the conduct of warfare, let us consider the sources of
power that can accrue to a successful tribal war leader
through external warfare, which can supply him with the
political leverage to become more than just a man of
renown. The power garnered by a tribal war leader can
make it possible for him to overcome the limitations of
tribal authority and to wield centralized decision making
on a regional level.
Although the leaders of tribal raiding parties look no
different from their fellow warriors when they set off to
war, they do assume a tier of command above the other
members of the war party. We have seen how the leaders
of war parties plan the raid, recruit warriors, conduct
External warfare and internal politics 51
pre-war rituals, and decide on the precise form and
timing of the attack. Their leadership of tribal raiding
parties provides these distinguished warriors with
opportunities to hone their skills in the art of leading, of
persuading and cajoling the other members of their war
parties to follow, sometimes in the direst of circum-
stances (Karsten 1935:267-8; Drown and Drown
1961:79-80; Chagnon 1983:186). Their command of war
parties offers them decided organizational advantages,
especially as leaders of allied war parties, which could
number up to 500 Jivaro warriors at the turn of the
century (Harner 1972:204).
In addition to the sheer power derived from organiz-
ing and commanding large fighting forces is the experi-
ence, indeed the wisdom, that these war leaders gain
through their frequent participation in long-distance
raids against enemy settlements located far beyond their
tribal boundaries. The information that they acquire
throughout their careers as warriors, eventually as dis-
tinguished warriors, and ultimately as the leaders of war
parties, is keenly recognized and respected by other
tribesmen. The Jivaro express this wealth of information
in the personal arutam power, called kakarma, acquired
by warriors who have killed, "which is believed to
increase one's intelligence as well as simple physical
strength" (Harner 1972:139, 91).
As their reputation as kakaram or "powerful ones"
grows, these distinguished killers will be sought out to
organize and lead war parties for others, including their
enemies. In the process of conducting raids for other
villages, successful war party leaders accumulate further
kakarma, including information about other regions and
tribes, and become ti kakaram or "very powerful ones"
(Harner 1972:110-15).
By the time they reach this point in their careers, these
successful war leaders will have achieved a certain prom-
inance in the region. Among the Jivaro, the invitation to
lead raiding parties for other villages provides a war
leader with opportunities to build alliances, and to
enlarge his network of reciprocal obligations. Over time,
the leader of many raiding parties who becomes a ti
kakaram "may theoretically have on call almost all the
men of several neighborhoods and some of the men of a
number of other localities" (Harner 1972:115). These
local war leaders who become regional war leaders are
known today by the Quechua-derived designation
curaca. Their power is based solely on their personal
reputation and influence over the members of their fol-
lowing. Yet a strong curaca can augment his influence
and power in the region and beyond by the same process
of agreeing to conduct raiding parties for other, weaker
 52 Elsa M. Redmond

curacas, to the point where he dominates other curacas, Chagnon has recently demonstrated that Yanomamo
"until one curaka may have 8 or 10 curakas more or less men who have killed tend to have more wives, either by
under his control" (Stirling 1938:39). abducting them from raided villages, or by the usual
The degree of regional prominence that can be marriage alliances in which they are considered more
achieved by successful curacas through warfare is illus- attractive as mates. Consequently, these distinguished
trated by the ways in which the Jivaro refer to these warriors also have more offspring (Chagnon 1988:989-
supra-village alliances. Most Jivaro groups that recog- 90). Distinguished Jivaro warriors have large, well-built
nize a common war leader or curaca are made up of houses, where they can put up guests, and host feasts and
several villages along 5 or 6 miles of a small river and dances (Harner 1972:45-6). By virtue of their status as
"such a group has no name to designate it other than killers, they don elaborate feather headdresses and orna-
that of the stream on which it is located" (Stirling ments when they are visiting or receiving others (Harner
1938:39). But Siverts has suggested that some of the 1972:112-13).
tribal names recognized by the Jivaro began as desig- Distinguished warriors adopt a stylized manner of
nations for such war alliances. In the case of the Antipa greeting others that is frank and forceful. In fact, they
Jivaro, "a temporary grouping of allies was given the convey an impression of being invincible in every aspect
name of the war leader or of the river on which he was of their public personae (Harner 1972:113). At death,
residing. Thus the Antipa may well have been an Agua- they will be accorded more elaborate funerary treatment
runa group distinguished from other Jivaro on account than other males their age, in the form of more elaborate
of a powerful leader by the name of Antipa" (Siverts and repeated mourning ceremonies, and in the case of
1975:667). the Jivaro, a formal period of lying-in-state (Harner
In the process of waging war for other villages and 1972:168-9).
gaining renown in the region, a successful war leader
accumulates material forms of wealth, including trophy Legitimation ofpower
heads, women, weapons, ammunition, curare poison, How can tribal war leaders assume permanent positions
tools, ornaments, and other valuables (Drown and of leadership given the fact that even the regional domi-
Drown 1961:98-9; Harner 1972:116, 187, 207). These nance achieved by curacas is usually short lived (Stirling
foreign resources are offered as inducements or rewards 1938:39)? Harner points out that by the time a Jivaro war
to him by the recruiting party (Valero 1984:398, 485, leader has achieved the regional prominence and power
532). of a curaca, he tends to be elderly. He will reach an age
If not promised beforehand, the successful war leader when he no longer leads war parties himself, and eventu-
obtains these foreign resources for himself during the ally other war leaders will supplant him (Stirling
looting spree that follows a successful raid upon an 1938:40; Drown and Drown 1961:98-102; Harner
enemy settlement. The war leader acts no differently 1972:116).
from his fellow warriors, for we are told that each An aging tribal war leader can overcome the above
member of the raiding party keeps for himself all that he dilemma by encouraging his sons to distinguish them-
can lay his hands on in the process of ransacking the selves in warfare and to lead war parties for him, thereby
houses (Up de Graff 1923:274-5; Drown and Drown being in a natural position to inherit his position as he
1961:98). In the case of captured women, however, "they grows old and dies. Already at the age of six or seven
are divided among the successful warriors, the curaka years the sons of distinguished Jivaro warriors are taken
taking his choicefirst"(Stirling 1938:56, emphasis added, along on raids in order to be instructed in raiding skills
see also Drown and Drown 1961:99). Not only does the (Harner 1972:113). They also begin seeking arutam
successful war leader stand to accumulate substantial powers like their fathers by fasting, taking ritual baths,
material benefits through external warfare, but also he and drinking green tobacco water (Harner 1972:136).
can use this wealth in self-serving ways to build alliances, Their initiation rituals at the age of 15 or 16 years test
provision his war parties, host feasts, and bestow gifts some of their growing qualities as warriors. They must
upon the members of his following, thereby becoming a venture into the forest, kill a tree sloth, prepare a trophy
power to be reckoned with in the region (Webster from its head, and then celebrate mock victory feasts,
1975:468-9). complete with the taking of hallucinogenic maikua juice,
Apart from their potential for amassing wealth, distin- which is supposed to fill them with power and resolve
guished warriors-cum-war leaders can achieve a superior (Karsten 1935:238-42; Harner 1972:93).
social status, which is manifested in a number of ways. As the war leaders grow old and no longer fit to lead

war parties, they will send their sons, who are already
achieving renown as warriors themselves, in their place
(Harner 1972:116; Drown and Drown 1961:98). On their
deathbed they might inform their sons of their wish for
them to acquire their arutam power when they die. Each
night during the subsequent lying-in-state period, their
sons will pay them ritual visits and drink tobacco water
in order to seek their arutam power (Harner 1972:168-9).
The possibility for the sons of war leaders to inherit
their father's position is facilitated in this way. Theoreti-
cally, the eldest son of a curaca inherits his father's
position of leadership in war, "because he is, as it were, a
direct continuation of his father, has received a careful
education for the deeds of war, and has always had the
good example of his great father before his eyes"
(Karsten 1935:267). Nevertheless, he is entitled to receive
his father's "chieftainship," as Stirling (1938:40) refers
to it, only if he has pursued the art of warfare and gained
renown as a distinguished warrior.
As I mentioned earlier, this is precisely the condition
upon which the sons of distinguished warriors could
inherit the title and elite status of cabras (military cap-
tains) in the Circum-Caribbean chiefdoms. This means
that those tribal war leaders who prepare their sons for
war, who give them opportunities to lead war parties,
and who pass on their special powers to them, will sow
the seeds of hereditary leadership, by offering their sons
the chance to inherit their position of leadership in times
of war. This advantage held by the sons of tribal war
leaders, when coupled with their own success in warfare,
can lead under certain conditions to the establishment of
a line of hereditary war leaders, like the inherited cabras
in the sixteenth-century chiefdoms, with all the sump-
tuary privileges that they enjoyed.
Let us turn to some of the socioenvironmental con-
ditions related to warfare that might promote such
centralized, hereditary leadership on the regional level,
in which such a lineage of related war leaders might be
institutionalized and made permanent. Under con-
ditions of escalating warfare, resulting from external
stresses of population growth and environmental and
social circumscription (Chagnon 1968b:250-l; Carneiro
1970:735-7), but also, I would maintain, to the pursuit of
unrelenting warfare on the part of power-seeking war
leaders, the limitations of uncentralized tribal authority
will soon be felt. As tribal warfare approximates the
intensity of warfare observed among chiefdoms, who are
known to wage year-round, monthly attacks on their
enemies, and even repeated, daily attacks, it might favor
the development of centralized leadership. The changing
motives for war under these conditions spur more
External warfare and internal politics 53
frequent and unpredictable warfare, irrespective of the
season of the year. The waging of more frequent warfare
would promote the formation of supra-village alliances
and the consequent mobilization of larger, allied war
parties.
The first steps in this process have been documented
by Chagnon in the interior of Yanomamo territory,
where villages are surrounded on all sides by neighbors,
where warfare is more frequent, and where the opportu-
nities for settlement relocation are fewer than along the
tribe's periphery. Here, for example, the Patanowa-teri
were raided at least twenty-five times between November
1964 and February 1966, and they retaliated frequently
(Chagnon 1968a:141, 1983:71-2, 180). In response to the
more intense warfare that is waged in the tribal heart-
land, the headmen of these villages establish more
offensive and defensive alliances with neighboring vil-
lages than do the headmen of villages on the tribe's
periphery. Settlements here are also larger, in part
because of a higher degree of population nucleation that
is produced by the fusion of allied villages (Chagnon
1983:79). Through warfare, village headmen here are
stronger, more influential. "Thus, while still at the
autonomous village level of political organization, those
Yanomamo subject to social circumscription have
clearly moved a step or two in the direction of higher
political development" (Carneiro 1970:737).
The frequency of tribal warfare can also be acceler-
ated by ambitious war leaders seeking prestige and
prominence on the regional level, as the following
example illustrates. In the 1920s two Jivaro curacas of
the well-populated Canga and upper Yaupe rivers
joined together in a powerful military alliance to wage
"constant" raids against all the tribes in the area and
beyond. Over a period often tofifteenyears the two war
leaders compiled impressive military victories - each was
credited with taking more than fifty heads - to the point
that they became the terror of the region (Stirling
1938:40). In order to further their own careers as
curacas, they were responsible for inciting intense
warfare over a large area.
In the face of escalating warfare, there will be a con-
tinuing need for mobilizing allied war parties, for the
purposes of both defense and retaliation. Those distin-
guished war leaders who have built up a large network of
supra-village alliances and who can mobilize large, allied
fighting forces on short notice will be poised for posi-
tions of permanent leadership. Their readiness in the
face of more frequent, year-round warfare, and their
successful command of supra-village war parties will be
recognized and endorsed by their followers, who will
 54 Elsa M. Redmond

turn to them for protection and depend increasingly on on to succeeding leaders, can thus give rise to centralized
their leadership. Their capacity for centralized leader- chiefdoms under the permanent authority of paramount
ship enables them to respond quickly and effectively to chiefs.
frequent socioenvironmental stresses, and over time they
and their designated successors will be sought out
repeatedly as leaders (Rappaport 1971b:66; Harner Acknowledgments
1972:115; Chagnon 1983:124). I would like to thank Charles Spencer, Elizabeth Brum-
In time, the temporary grouping of allied villages fiel, and Joyce Marcus for their comments on this paper.
under the authority of such a war leader would be made
permanent and institutionalized in the form of a chief-
dom, with the war leader's village as the chiefly center, Notes
and with a common territory to defend. Such a regional 1 Other forms of hostility exist in these societies, such as
unit would probably be named for the war chief who duels, club fights, and even occasional assassinations,
spawned it or for the river on which his village lay but they are usually spurred by individual feuds and
(Siverts 1975:667), and his heirs would inherit that desig- generally take place on the local level. Both the Yano-
nation upon their succession to office. In this way, the mamo and the Jivaro distinguish between these local
chiefdom constitutes the permanent institutionalization hostilities and true warfare (Harner 1972:116, 180-3;
of a tribal military alliance into a single, centralized Chagnon 1983:170). We know that the Circum-
political unit with a common territory. The centralized Caribbean chiefdoms engaged in military jousts at
chiefdom has obvious military advantages over the their feasts, but any deaths incurred during these con-
temporary groupings of allied villages that form to tests did not provoke blood revenge (Espinosa
conduct tribal warfare, in terms of both defense and 1864:470; Trimborn 1949:150-1). Any hostilities that
offense. Its component villages that once maintained did erupt within a paramount chief's domain were
their own sovereignty embrace the protective hegemony short lived, since the chief had the authority to squelch
of the paramount chief and heed his call to arms. personal feuds, usually by punishing the offenders. In
Moreover, their pursuit of blood revenge is supplanted this way, there was little internecine warfare (Oviedo
by the chief's agenda of ambitious expansionism and yValdes 1853:129, 142).
confederation. Not surprisingly, once the process of 2 In a larger study of South American warfare I have
chiefdom formation is set in motion, we witness the considered the archaeological manifestations of tribal
rapid development of chiefdoms (Carneiro 1981:66). The and chiefly warfare, with the aim of examining the role
power garnered by tribal war leaders through external assumed by warfare in the emergence of prehistoric
warfare, when it is successfully manipulated and passed chiefdoms (Redmond 1990, n.d.).
 bility were forged by a combination of various inter-
personal associations, including consanguineal and
affinal bonds, rewards for valorous military service, and
Chiefdom rivalries, control, defeat and incorporation of rivals. Preservation of the
dessicated remains of quevis' deceased ancestors, richly
and external contacts in dressed and suspended with ropes in order of the rank
they held in life, in the interior chamber of a quevi's
lower Central America chiefly compound indicates further extension of sociopo-
litical ties by recognition of ancestral genealogies of
some depth (Helms 1979:9).
MARY W. HELMS While we know something of the activities and life-
styles characteristic of elites, there are very few ethnohis-
torical data concerning the composition and character of
the public support groups directed, manipulated, or
represented by them. We know that the general populace
was distinguished from the elite by dress, by status endo-
gamy, and by differences in life-crisis rites. In the late
seventeenth century Lionel Wafer commented on the
A number of years ago I presented an argument, based large and well-built family dwellings of the populace
on ethnohistorical materials and cross-cultural ethno- (Kuna) "where the patriarch exercises control over all
graphic comparisons, concerning the general "type" of the group, consisting of his wife and daughters with their
chiefdom organization evidenced by the several dozen husbands and children, and, often, grand-daughters with
polities of the Panamanian isthmus at the time of Euro- their families" (Wafer in Helms 1979:13-14). This popu-
pean contact. I concluded that these polities were char- lation lived in dispersed settlements with scattered dwell-
acterized by a high level of status competition and ings located here and there near waterways about the
rivalry among high-ranking men of influence, who valleys and on mountain slopes, with more nucleated
sought to bolster or legitimate whatever inherited claims chiefly compounds (bohios) as societal and possibly mili-
to high office they held by high-visibility public activities tary focal points (Helms 1979:8-9). In the absence of
that would evidence their personal capabilities as further information we can perhaps assume that this
dynamic men of action (Helms 1979:3, 22-3). ancient Panamanian society was characterized by some
Panamanian society was basically divided between arrangement of ranked lineages. I suspect entire lineages
ordinary people and elite persons of higher rank with were ranked relative to others, as elite lineages vis-a-vis
named statuses. Among the elite, those termed quevis commoners; but it is possible that a system of personal
held the highest offices - we can consider them to be high ranking simply differentiated members within individual
chiefs. Those termed sacos are described as principal lineages.
personages who had vassals but were inferior in rank to Since the available information on the formal com-
quevis; they could be brothers of quevis or lords subord- position of social groups is limited, questions as to
inated to quevis by defeat in warfare. The lowest level of whether factions as defined by Brumfiel and Fox existed
elite status was held by honored warriors of commoner and the possible nature of factional activities and com-
status who achieved a rank, called cabra, by virtue of petition in precolumbian Panamanian chiefdoms
outstanding bravery in battle (Oviedo in Helms 1979:12, cannot be directly discussed. Yet these questions might
13). Oviedo also notes a territorial referent for the be approached in a somewhat round-about manner by
various grades of elites in which the provinces, rivers, considering several other related issues pertinent to the
valleys, and places where members of the elite lived were organization and operation of these ranked societies. I
given the names of the particular quevis, sacos and cabras shall, therefore, address questions concerning the
concerned. This practice may indicate that cabras and permanence and the centrality of authority in isthmian
sacos held overlapping stewardship over the various polities, as well as areas of possible group activities
territorial villages and districts that, in sum, composed versus areas of individual interests and activity. We may
the total domain or province of a quevi(p. 13). then be able to gain some perspective on the matter of
Judging from all available evidence, the ties connec- factions.
ting this hierarchy of command and political responsi- Let us begin with permanence. In a recent review

55
 56 Mary W. Helms
article, Robert Carneiro (1987) reiterates what he con-
siders to constitute the most fundamentally significant
evidence of the presence of chiefdoms in a given region,
and suggests that the presence of a high-ranked para-
mount leader who actually holds permanent political
control over other chiefly community leaders is the criti-
cal issue; this in contrast to more nominal or merely
formal situations where actual permanent subjugation of
the leaders and population of regional villages did not
occur, although individuals could become subordinate
to another, for example by capture in war, or villages
could become satellite units loosely integrated or allied
within the ambit of a high-ranking chief (Carneiro
1981:45-6; 1987:761). In other words, even if principles
of direct descent from founding ancestors are evidenced,
the important question remains as to the capacity for a
paramount chief to implement real power to control
lineage heads and other high-ranked personages and to
limit or channel the extent of their more self-interested
activities in favor either of his own self-interests or of
more corporate concerns of the entire polity. Carneiro
suggests that intermittent or recurring alliances among
otherwise autonomous villages and their leaders should
be distinguished from permanent control by a para-
mount leader, and such community alliances should be
recognized as constituting a separate stage in sociopoliti-
cal development, standing between autonomous villages
and real chiefdoms (Carneiro 1981:45-6; 1987:761).
Although our recognition of the polities of Lower
Central America on the eve of the conquest as chiefdoms
is based on a number of additional characteristics, it is
useful to consider the extent to which Carneiro's descrip-
tion of intermittent community alliances might be per-
tinent to the Panamanian picture. Certainly alliances
were formed among men of rank, and it is by no means
clear whether such alliances occurred mainly between
quevis, each of whom may then have directed more
completely or permanently the activities of his subord-
inate sacos, or whether intermittent or periodic alliances
also characterized relations between quevis and their
sacos. In other words, how permanent was the authority
of a quevi on the one hand and how easy or difficult was
it for a saco to emerge as an independent leader in his
own right or to indulge in independent activity irrelevant
of his subordinate status vis-a-vis a given lord?
Two ethnohistoric comments are relevant, although
their brevity and generality considerably limit their
ethnological usefulness. Both these incidents involved a
quevi called Parita, and certain so-called "allies." In the
first instance, when Parita held council to decide whether
to fight or to negotiate with the Spaniards, one of his
brothers urged that gold be used to gain the support of
allies and that they attack. In the second incident, Parita
requested help from the Spaniards to subdue his purpor-
ted ally (Suema), who was resisting his alliance with
Parita, wishing to have gold without having to obey the
regional lord (Helms 1979:60). Both incidents seem to
indicate a rather loose system or network of possible
alliances and considerable independence for so-called
allies, though we do not know whether the persons
involved were independent quevis or sacos at least nomi-
nally under Parita.
It is also important to consider what types of activities
were involved in relationships among quevis and/or
sacos. Were they individualistic activities involving self-
interested elite enterprises, or self-interested elite activi-
ties assisted by wider support groups, or activities involv-
ing not only efforts but also interests of constituent
support (kin) groups, more or less as a whole, whatever
their particular organizational framework? (We should
also remember that individual activities may also serve
group- as well as self-interests, or even serve both pur-
poses at once.)
Although the ethnohistoric data are very scanty, some
degree of "internal" administrative associations and
responsibilities surely existed between the commoner
population of a given territory or "province" and the
elite cabras, sacos and/or quevis of that territory, who at
the very least accepted generalized stewardship of the
overall well-being, socially and ideologically, of the
population of a given ancestral territory. We are told, for
example, that quevis were responsible for settling quar-
rels and disputes, and could administer capital punish-
ment for perjury (Helms 1979:16).
Concerning the all-important question of the pro-
duction and distribution of basic subsistence goods, I
have been of the opinion that control or direction of
basic subsistence activity within a given polity probably
was the responsibility of domestic groups and did not
directly concern ranked authority figures, or if it did, it
involved mainly gabras, the lowest and least permanent
of elites, who are said to have lived apart from com-
moners, apparently as local administrators, and who
directed land and villages (Helms 1979:13; cf. Goldman
1970:482-6, 508; Peebles and Kus 1977:426). I suggest
that activities directly associated with individuals of high
rank, i.e., sacos and quevis, and related questions of
permanent control vs. periodic alliances among high-
status men, are more likely to have involved political
ideology rather than subsistence economics, particularly
those aspects of political ideology expressed by activities
in some manner considered to be "external" to consti-

tuent kin (or other social) groups. The most relevant
issues here would include organization and/or conduct
of external warfare and organization and/or conduct of
peaceful external contacts, including long-distance asso-
ciations with gods and with men.
With respect to warfare, Oviedo mentions that
warfare was conducted for "power" and for land. Yet I
do not think competition among polities for access to
subsistence sources, caused perhaps by increasing popu-
lation pressure, was common (though I certainly cannot
rule it out; cf. Helms 1979:49-50 re Pearl Islands). The
Spaniards commented frequently on the abundance of
food of all sorts (fresh water and ocean fish, turtles,
manatee, wild game, diverse agricultural products) and
food resources seem, on the face of it, to have been quite
adequate; certainly the storerooms of chiefly compounds
were full (Helms 1979:11).
I am particularly intrigued by Andagoya's comment
that warfare was for access to hunting and fishing terri-
tories (Helms 1979:33). Although game and fish were
smoked and salted apparently for general consumption,
I would like to suggest that fishing and hunting might
also have been activities specifically associated with high
rank; activities not only important for subsistence but
also carrying symbolic or ideological relevance for the
concept of eliteness (cf. Peebles and Kus 1977:425 re
Hawaii). If so, competition over fishing and hunting
grounds could have reflected not only - or perhaps not
much - general population need but also, or even
especially, expression of competitive personal and status
rivalries among quevis and/or sacos. It is also noteworthy
here that there was no regular tribute collected in
Panama, but that, in return for food and drink, personal
contributions and labor were expected when the chief
required various services, including house building,
planting, fishing, and at times of war. We also read that
the lord had certain men who farmed for him, others
who hunted and fished, although sometimes the quevi
himself took part in these activities (Helms 1979:14).
This information appears to indicate that certain agri-
cultural lands were set aside for chiefly use, and it is
entirely possible that certain hunting and fishing sites
were also considered his.
Chiefly domains in many cases seem to have been
ecologically diverse, reaching from higher mountain
slopes to ocean littoral. To the extent that access to
forests, rivers, streams, swamps, beach, and ocean
involved territory on or closer to the frontiers or margins
of chiefly provinces (in contrast to more fully integrated
or occupied agricultural territory), access to these
regions might have more readily offered the possibility
Chiefdom rivalries, control, and external contacts 57
of trespass on to lands of neighboring lords or into
disputed territory (cf. Peebles and Kus 1977:425). Such
entry could have occasioned the conflicts mentioned by
the Spaniards, all the more so if type or quantity of fish
or game available in a lord's storehouses also reflected
on his status and/or personal capabilities as lord, and if
success in hunting and fishing held particular symbolic
significance for men in high positions. It is possible,
then, that external warfare as an activity involving inter-
action among elites could have reflected personal inter-
ests as much or more than group interests, even though
elites presumably were assisted militarily by kinsmen or
subordinate elites in these sorties. Similarly, we must
remember that success in war meant opportunity for
individuals, including personal honor and social
advancement (as cabras) for commoner warriors, as it
also led to a decline in individual social status for those
who were captured and thereby became servants (pacos)
of victorious lords (Helms 1979:11, 14).
I would argue, then, that warfare supported the poli-
tical aspirations of rivalrous men of influence as much
as, or more than, it involved community economic
needs. In addition, gaining control over people by taking
individual captives or perhaps subordinating a losing
lord (and his lineage members?) as saco further evi-
denced personal success or failure for high lords. Pre-
sumably such advantages could also be temporary and
could be reversed the next time warriors clashed; if so
they would have expressed shifting alliances and oppo-
sitions among men of influence (and their support
groups, unless group support tended to beflexible,too)
more than expressing the permanent, paramount domi-
nance of one lord above the rest. Permanent alliances are
more likely to have been expressed by marriage, as when
the quevi Escoria defeated the quevi Parita, and then
married a sister or cousin of his former foe (Helms
1979:58).
On the other hand, paramount dominance might have
existed with respect to certain other external areas of
elite interest. "Outside" activities also include peaceful
contacts among separate polities, near or far, as well as
between peoples and their gods. In considering the
extent to which quevis may have exercised permanent
control over other elites of precolumbian Panamanian
polities we need to consider briefly these several areas of
long-distance contacts.
The crucial question regarding paramountcy with
respect to contacts between men and gods rests on
whether chiefly compounds also served as the highest or
most powerful religious centers of the isthmus, whether
the chief supervised the construction of other types of
 58 Mary W. Helms

religious shrines (cf. Peebles and Kus 1977:426), and/or (burial or above-ground preservation of remains, elabor-
whether quevis served as high religious functionaries, or ate grave goods, sacrificed retainers) (pp. 18-19).
directed those who did. Since chiefly bohios contained In fact, if one considers all available ethnohistoric
the mummified remains of elite ancestors, elite centers data, the degree of elaboration of elite sumptuary goods
would seem to have held some ideological preeminence, and behaviors seems somewhat out of proportion to the
and according to Lionel Wafer in the seventeenth degree of authority apparently available to elites. The
century, a native chief or "clan leader" could also be an public expression of high rank and status via regalia and
"Indian clergyman" (Helms 1979:111). Yet Oviedo and special forms of etiquette may have preceded actual
Andagoya specifically identify a separate individual, authority, may in fact have been a necessary pre-
called tecuria or tequina (meaning "master"), who was in condition for the acceptance of such authority or at least
charge of supernatural contacts and prognostications, significantly facilitated it, perhaps in the sense suggested
who was apparently distinct from the quevi, and who by Allen (1984:36) whereby a high level of specification
communicated with the deities from within a small roof- of insignia and ritual procedures constitutes a kind of
less enclosure. Thus quevis may not have had permanent orthodoxy or idiom of legitimacy, access to which can
paramount dominance as religious functionaries or then be controlled by men of influence. (Other ethno-
mediators between people and gods. graphic examples of this phenomenon may be found in
However, a different type of "distant" contact involv- Toby 1984 and Chaffetz 1981.)
ing earthly polities and earthly elites is also evidenced The rationale underlying this proposal is that the
both in archaeological discovery of sumptuary or elite successful attainment of public symbols by high chiefs is
goods and in ethnohistoric mention of "trade" in eso- not only indicative of the need to have tangible evidence
teric information and material goods (specifically pearls, of high rank but is also a statement of appropriate
gold ornaments, shells, fine textiles, salt, fine ceramics), personal chiefly capabilities evidenced both in symbol
items that served both as exchange goods and as public and in substance in the acquisition and/or production,
display symbols for high-status elites (cf. pp. 43-9 followed by public display, of exceptional (rare, scarce,
passim, 56-7, 63, 66). Paramountcy in terms of acqui- unusual), mystical, sacred, or power-filled things and
sition of such long-distance materials would appear to be information. Acquisition of "wealth" of this sort is also
significantly conditioned by whether or not a given quevi fundamental to chiefdom leadership because it visibly
controlled access to crucial points on long-distance defines the meaning of hierarchy, primarily by making
travel routes. hierarchy appear to be a "natural (cosmological)" or
For Panamanian elites this meant control of crucial "sacred" - and therefore unquestionable - phenomenon
settings near trans-sierran land routes, at important river (Kus 1982). The principle of hierarchy, in turn, defines
junctions, or at sea ports (pp. 42-8 passim, 57-8). In the concept of chief and restricts this position to a select
fact, there is some evidence and considerable speculation few. Stated otherwise, paramountcy with respect to
that competition for access to such routes also provoked access to public display symbols could have represented
warfare, and that distribution of elite valuables obtained the most important aspect of real or potential chiefly
by long-distance contacts could facilitate elite alliances power available to high lords in isthmian polities at the
for other purposes (Helms 1979:chapter 2). I have also time of European contact.
hypothesized that the most influential and powerful Pan- Obviously public symbols of high status were worn by
amanian quevis were those who were able to control individuals and expressed rank and status in a personi-
access to such trade and travel routes. That is to say, a fied manner. As indicated above, they may also have
significant degree of paramountcy may have been attested to the individual, personal abilities of those who
achieved with respect to long-distance travel and acqui- displayed them, in so far as display represented success-
sition of valued rank and status symbols. ful activities in long-distance affairs or in effecting alli-
The importance of access to public symbols of high ances with other elites who offered sumptuary goods in
rank is also underscored by the more detailed infor- return for other forms of support. Such goods thereby
mation in the Spanish accounts concerning sumptuary also illustrated and illuminated the elite focal point, the
goods and distinctive elite behaviors, including distinct- centrality of the political order.
ive headdresses, abundance of elaborate gold orna- The need to emphasize centrality in chiefdoms has
ments, distinctive robes, carved and painted chiefly been commented upon by various writers, including
houses, carrying litters (hammocks) for quevis, use of Henry Wright and Charles Spencer, and I have found
chiefly language, and special life-crisis rites for chiefs their arguments persuasive. As Spencer has reminded us

(1987), decision-making authority in chiefdoms is gen-
erally distributed between two basic hierarchical levels,
that of the local community and that of the wider region
(cf. Carneiro 1981:45-6). Authority is centralized on
both levels, but is notably generalized, lacking in sig-
nificant internal administrative specializations, and
characterized by minimal internal differentiation of
leadership roles (Spencer 1987:372). This means, in
effect, that the jobs of regional and local leaders - in
Panama, quevis, sacos, and/or cabras differed only
degree, and that it would have been difficult thereby for
a regional quevi to delegate part of his authority to local
level associates (who, it is important to note, may also
have been allied by marriage or as blood kinsmen), for
whenever he did so he risked political challenge and
possible usurpation. Spencer notes that a regional chief's
main recourse in such a situation is to encourage com-
munity leaders to be as self-sufficient as possible with
respect to regulatory problems existing on their level,
while he attempts to coordinate activities pertaining to
the region as a whole.
This strategy, however, raises the problem for a
regional chief of how to foster local self-regulation,
which will enhance local leaders' power, and yet main-
tain wider political allegiance and a higher political
position for himself (Spencer 1987:376). Spencer notes
several mechanisms which can assist the regional chief
to overcome this administrative challenge. First, sancti-
fication of authority, in which the chief is identified with
important supernatural forces or beings and is enve-
loped in religious ceremonialism. We have seen that
sanctification of authority held true to at least some
extent in ancient Panama if legitimation of authority by
preserved chiefly ancestors and the cosmological sig-
nificance of public display goods are considered.
Second, Spencer notes fostering of alliances by marriage
or fictive kinship between the regional lord and commu-
nity leaders. In Panama, marriage between quevis and
sacos is indicated, though to what extent such ties
included community leaders is not clear. Third, acqui-
sition of scarce prestige goods from distant regions to be
used as status symbols and exchange items with commu-
nity leaders. In Panama this aspect of quevis' activity
seems to have been well developed by at least some,
crucially located quevis. Fourth, inter-polity warfare.
Again, in Panama there is evidence of such, though to
what extent regional centralization was enhanced by
war it is hard to say.
Nonetheless, if Spencer is correct, one of the basic jobs
for a quevi in precolumbian Panama, and presumably
one of the major characteristics of Panamanian polities
Chiefdom rivalries, control, and external contacts 59
and politics in general would have been the need simply
to maintain regional centrality by emphasizing associ-
ations with supernatural powers, developing kin ties
with local leaders, acquiring foreign prestige goods, and
engaging in successful external warfare. Success in these
areas of activity would elaborate both the concept and
the reality of the chiefly center and with it at least some
degree of paramountcy.
Returning at last to the question of factions in pre-
inColumbian Panama, the issue becomes one of consider-
ing how - or even if - factions (vertically composed
groups) may have helped or hindered both the develop-
ment and maintenance of centrality and attempts at
chiefly paramountcy over lesser lords. Working within
the constraints of the limited ethnohistoric data avail-
able, I have not found much explicit evidence either for
or against significant faction-based activities in pre-
Columbian Panamanian chiefdoms. Thus the question
essentially must remain open. I would suggest that to the
extent factions (probably composed of lineage-based
kin-groups) did operate, they did so in support of the
personalistic activities of their high-status leaders. These
lords, in turn, were concerned primarily with their indi-
vidual and largely self-interested roles in the competitive
personal rivalries that existed among quevis and sacos of
the diverse Panamanian polities, all of whom were con-
cerned with pursuing the particular activities that could
elaborate regional chiefly centrality and/or could
promote dimensions of paramountcy more than with
activities that provided direct material benefit to the
population at large.
By these criteria, Carneiro might question (not that
he has) whether true chiefdoms existed in Panama, or if
we had instead a situation of allied polities or confeder-
ations that were pre-chiefdom in evolutionary develop-
ment. I am convinced (and I think Carneiro would
agree) that combined evidence of differential status
levels, distinct obeisance and sumptuary contrasts
among ranks, the focality evidenced by chiefly com-
pounds, and other aspects of political and social life
not mentioned here leave little doubt that ranked and
centralized polities with chiefs holding at least some
degree of paramountcy clearly existed, and that the
dynamics of warfare and alliances, even if fluctuating
and intermittent, represented fields or spheres of
external political activity among the elites of such chief-
doms. The question of whether (or the extent to which)
such alliances and oppositions involved factional kin-
based support groups is more problematical, though
not unlikely. The question of whether such alliances
and oppositions were oriented directly and overtly to
60 Mary W. Helms

the needs and interests of factional groups rather than analytical inclinations in matters of chiefdom organi-
to more personalistic concerns of individual members zation and operation in general, I support a personalis-
of the elite cannot be directly answered either, tic rather than factional interpretation of intended
However, given the evidence at hand, and my own goals.

Factional competition and
the political evolution of
Mississippian chiefdoms in
the Southeastern United
States
DAVID G. ANDERSON
Introduction
From AD 900 to AD 1600 a complex and changing
constellation of chiefdoms occupied much of the South-
eastern United States. Called the Mississippian, after the
central Mississippi alluvial valley where extensive
remains from this culture were identified in the nine-
teenth century, this way of life was characterized by
sedentary communities, intensive maize agriculture,
platform mounds, and a hierarchical society. The subsis-
tence economy was based on the intensive utilization of
both cultigens and wild plant and animal resources, and
large settlements were located, for the most part, on the
terraces of major drainages.
The story of the emergence and evolution of these
societies has fascinated archaeologists for over a
century. Research emphases have changed from con-
cerns about the origin of these "mound builders," to
interest in material culture and chronology and, most
recently, to questions about the organization, operation,
and evolution of these societies. As archaeological
research has progressed a tremendous amount of infor-
mation has been collected. Thousands of Mississippian
sites are now known from the region, and hundreds have
been extensively excavated. In some areas chronological
resolution on the order of 100-year intervals is now
possible, giving researchers the opportunity to examine
political and organizational change with a fine degree of
chronological control.
A rich ethnohistoric record is also available, dating
from the era of initial Spanish, French, and English
exploration. The earliest sixteenth-century accounts,
before the native chiefdoms collapsed from contact-
induced depopulation and warfare, contain invaluable
descriptions of life in these societies, evidence of con-
siderable value in the examination of archaeological
materials. Through a combination of archaeological and
ethnohistorical analysis, in fact, it is now possible to
produce detailed pictures of the location, size, and
operation of many of the region's pre-contact chiefdoms.
The Mississippian archaeological record is replete
with examples of the emergence, expansion, and decline
of chiefly polities in a complex mosaic of shifting power
relationships that forms, as one researcher has put it,
"one of the world's major observational laboratories
for the study of [the] pristine evolution ... of complex
societies" (House 1982:37). How factional competition
shaped the developmental trajectories that are observed
in the archaeological record is examined, as are pro-
cedures by which the process may be investigated.
Southeastern Mississippian society: the ethnohistoric
record
Early sixteenth-century European explorers in the
Southeast, such as Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca, Her-
nando de Soto, Tristan de Luna, Juan Pardo, Rene
Laudonniere, and John White, and others like them, saw
complex Mississippian chiefdoms in near-pristine form,
before they disintegrated as a consequence of contact.
These early explorers were quite familiar with the pro-
cesses and effects of factional competition. Many of the
great nation states of the day had themselves only just
emerged from intense periods of factional competition,
as exemplified by struggles such as the Wars of the Roses
in England or the events leading to the political unifi-
cation of the Iberian peninsula. Well schooled in these
processes - this was the period, after all, when
Machiavelli wrote his classic work The Prince - these
early explorers took advantage of indigenous factional
competition in their conquests. Native factions were
pitted against each other wherever possible, and descrip-
tions of this process survive in the ethnohistoric record.
The ethnographic value of these accounts, long over-
looked, has been increasingly recognized in recent years
(DePratter 1983; Hudson et al 1985; Smith 1987;
Hudson 1988, 1990; Anderson 1990a).
Settlement hierarchies
Recent ethnohistoric research has led to the identifica-
tion of specific communities visited by early explorers,
permitting the use of early accounts in the archaeological
reconstruction of life at these sites and in these societies.
The primary accounts of the 1539-43 De Soto entrada
61
 62 David G. Anderson

\VuUatari
Qui
Otni ) Talimcco/
Cofltachequi

0 kilometers 200

Route of de Soto, 1539-41

Route of de Luna, 1559-61

Route of Pardo, 1565-7

Sources: Hudson et al. 1985: 723, 725; Hudson et al. 1984: 69; DcPrattcr ct al. 1983: 133)

Fig. 6.1 European exploration and native societies in the South Appalachian area during the sixteenth century.

(in chronological order: Ranjel, 1539^41; Biedma, 1544;
Elvas, 1557; Vega, 1605) provide fairly detailed descrip-
tions of the chiefdoms the Spaniards encountered, and
some of these societies were later revisited by the De
Luna (1560-1) and Pardo (1566-8) expeditions. Three geo-
graphically extensive, complex chiefdoms are described
in the South Appalachian area at the time of initial
European contact, the province of Coosa centered in
northwest Georgia, the province of Ocute and a series of
lesser chiefdoms in central Georgia, and the province of
Cofitachequi centered in central South Carolina (Fig.
6.1) (Hudson et al 1985; Hally et al 1990).
The early sources provide a number of specific details
about the operation of settlement and organizational
hierarchies. Large numbers of towns were tied together
in the more complex, areally extensive politics, which
were characterized by at least two administrative/
decision-making levels occupied by primary chiefs and
their retinues and lesser chiefs and their retinues. Com-
moners had little power or influence in these societies. A
three-level settlement hierarchy consisting of major cere-
monial and political centers, larger villages/small
centers, and scattered small hamlets or villages is docu-
mented for Coosa and indicated for Cofitachequi in the
De Soto and Pardo accounts. Evidence from the De Soto
accounts about Ocute is more ambiguous, but a two-
level settlement hierarchy is suggested, consisting of
hamlets scattered between larger centers (Ranjel, in
Bourne 1904:11, 89-90), which matches the pattern
observed archaeologically (Kowalewski and Hatch
1991).
The most complex southeastern polities were geogra-
phically extensive, covering thousands of square
kilometers, with subsidiary towns and polities held
together through alliance networks and the use or threat
of force. The De Soto entrada provides a direct record of
the extent and power of these chiefdoms, and the degree
to which these leaders were obeyed, facts which the
expedition was quick to exploit. Upon leaving the prin-
cipal towns of both Cofitachequi and Coosa, for
example, De Soto forced the principal chiefs to accom-
pany him. The Gentleman of Elvas' account noted that,
by taking the Lady of Cofitachequi, De Soto:
brought us service in all the places that were passed,
she ordering the Indians to come and take the loads
from town to town. We traveled through her terri-
tories a hundred leagues, in which, according to
whatever we saw, she was greatly obeyed, whatsoever
she ordered being performed with diligence and effi-
cacy. (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 70)
Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms 63
The complex chiefdoms of the early contact-era South-
east were thus composed of a number of subsidiary
chiefdoms linked together in alliance, conquest, or
tributary relations (DePratter 1983:21-2; Hudson et al
1985).
The Pardo expedition documents are particularly
valuable sources on the nature of power relationships
within and between chiefdoms in the South Appalachian
area. The existence of an elite social stratum was appar-
ent to Pardo:
at the said Canos [Cofitachequi] ... I found a great
number of chiefs and Indians ... From there I left for
Tagaya, where I brought together the Indians and
chiefs ... I went to Tagaya the Lesser and had all the
Indians and the chief brought together ... From there
I went to Ysa, who is a great chief; there I found
many chiefs and a great quantity of Indians ... From
there I went to an outlying district of the said Ysa,
and brought together the Indians. (Pardo 1567 in
Ketchem 1954:70-2)
The number of chiefs or elite varied considerably from
community to community, and in at least some cases the
number of chiefs present indicated the size and import-
ance of the community (Anderson 1900a: 115-18;
Hudson 1990:61-7).
The elite supported and reinforced the status of the
chief. They ruled in outlying communities, and served as
something of a privy council as necessary. Decisions were
typically made by the chief, although often after discuss-
ion with his principal supporters (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:
I, 75; Laudonniere, in Bennett 1975:14). While the power
of a chief might have been considerable, the stability and
permanence of the position ultimately depended upon
public acceptance of this power, particularly the support
of other elites. Membership in the elite was at least par-
tially due to inherited social position, although ability
was sometimes recognized. The elite sometimes lived in
close physical proximity to the chief, as evidenced by
statements such as that by Le Moyne (1875:12), referring
to Indians on the south Atlantic coast, who noted that
"the chief's dwelling stands in the middle of the town ...
Around this are the houses of the principal men." By
serving as litter, awning, or fan bearers, as documented
by De Soto at Cofitachequi, Coosa, and Tasculuza
(Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 65, 81, 101), the noble class
demonstrated their subservience to the chief, and at the
same time their close proximity both physically and
socially. From this elite could come possible successors
to the chieftainship, through legitimate succession or
through conquest or rebellion.
 64 David G. Anderson
The chief's residence was often set apart from the
homes of commoners and sometimes served as a combin-
ation house, elite council room, and temple. The
accounts contain explicit references to mound building
and use. Thus, the dwelling of Tasculuza was described
as "on a high place" (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 87), while
Biedma noted that "it is the custom of the Caciques to
have near their house a high hill, made by hand, some
having the house placed thereon" (Biedma, in Bourne
1904:11, 28). The temple of Talimeco at Cofitachequi is
described as a "house of worship ... on a high mound
and much revered" (Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11, 101).
The chief was also set apart in death, and extensive
mortuary rituals frequently accompanied his or her
death. Among coastal groups this included the burning
of his house (Laudonniere, in Bennett 1975:14-15). The
bodies of the dead in many of the more complex south-
eastern chiefdoms were maintained in elaborate mor-
tuary structures, of which the temple of Talimeco in
Cofitachequi visited by De Soto has provided the fullest
description (Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:315-22;
see also Biedma, in Bourne 1904:11, 14).
Tributary networks
Tributary arrangements within southeastern chiefdoms
are particularly well documented in the early historic
accounts (DePratter 1983:170-8). Within the major
provincial-level polities, for example, lesser towns,
leaders, and individuals submitted tribute to those above
them in the hierarchy. Tribute thus served to help define
and formalize social relationships in these societies, par-
ticularly those concerned with status positions, alliances,
and trade. Tribute included foodstuffs and luxury goods,
both of which were stored in large quantity:
Maize is kept in [a] barbacoa, which is a house with
wooden sides, like a room, raised aloft on four posts
and has a floor of cane ... [around] the houses of the
masters, or principal men ... are many barbacoas, in
which they bring together the tribute their people give
them of maize, skins of deer, and blankets of the
country. (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 53).
The early sources indicate that chiefs maintained barba-
coas filled with food in outlying settlements, and could
call on these stores when they wished. When De Soto's
army arrived in Ylasi, a town some three days to the
northeast of Cofitachequi, they found "seven barbacoas
of corn, that they said were there stored for the woman
chief" (Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11, 100). Food reserves in
storage in many of the southeastern societies
encountered by De Soto were extensive. Thus De Soto's
entire army of 600 men was able to spend the winters of
1539 and 1540 at Apalachee and Coosa, respectively,
drawing on the food reserves of those complex chief-
doms. Numerous examples exist in the De Soto
accounts, and in other sources from the sixteenth
century, of the chief's ability to call upon stores located
in other towns.
Tribute served to acknowledge power relations among
elites within and between chiefdoms in the Southeast.
DePratter (1983:176) cites a number of descriptions of
tribute collection by subject chiefs in outlying communi-
ties for the use of the paramount. Luxury goods such as
bark blankets, deer and marten skins, and other valu-
ables constituted tribute between elites, and are com-
monly mentioned as the type of goods used to seal
alliances or acknowledge power relationships. Bulk
foodstuffs, in contrast, do not appear to have moved
over great distances or served a similar role (Elvas, in
Bourne 1904:1, 65, 91, 129; Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11,
86, 99). Withholding tribute was considered an act of
rebellion and could trigger punitive expeditions and
warfare, and one account notes that seizing tribute was a
capital offense (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 70, 101, 154).
Gift-giving was an important form of competitive
display, a means of acknowledging tributary and power
relations. Throughout the entrada De Soto was wel-
comed by native chiefs offering gifts of blankets, deer
and marten skins, and other valuables, in addition to
food and housing (e.g., Ranjel, in Bourne 1904:11, 86,
99; Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 65, 91, 129). These were
precisely the items accounted as tribute by the natives
themselves, and it is probable that the gifts were an
attempt to placate an unknown and potentially danger-
ous enemy, while simultaneously attempting to enter
into a reciprocal alliance relationship with him. The act
of presenting tribute, therefore, was an acknowledg-
ment of power and a statement of relationship. The
giving of gifts was not merely one way, from subject to
ruler, but was also a method by which the paramount
could demonstrate his own power and prestige. Thus,
the chiefs of Pacaha and Casqui in northeast Arkansas,
whom De Soto met the third year of the entrada, were
"each striving to outdo the other in the magnitude of
[their] gifts" to De Soto (Elvas, in Bourne 1904:1, 129),
although in this case each hoped to use the favor they
gained with De Soto to the other's disadvantage.
While foodstuffs were apparently typically dispersed
to storage facilities scattered throughout the chiefdom,
luxury or prestige goods tended to be maintained in the
temples in the central towns of these societies (DePratter
1983:138). This suggests that while prestige goods distri-

bution was limited to the elite, food products may have
been more widely redistributed, to elites and commoners
alike, or at least held in reserve to accommodate periods
of crop failure or harvest shortfall. The centralized
control of wealth by the elite was closely linked to their
maintenance of power. The distribution of luxury goods
and captives to followers is well documented, and
appears to have been a successful method of maintaining
supporters among the lower ranks (Laudonniere, in
Bennett 1975:150). Disruptions in prestige goods
exchange or distribution networks could thus have had a
profound impact on patterns of elite competition, and a
decline of elite goods in circulation might signal organi-
zational instability and shifting power relationships
within a chiefdom or a region (Peebles and Kus 1977).
Patterns of factional competition
Factional competition within local Mississippian soci-
eties is described in some detail in the accounts of the De
Soto expedition of 1539^43, the first European penetra-
tion of the interior Southeast, and arguably the only
undistorted picture of these chiefdoms prior to their
disintegration:
almost all the provinces that these Spaniards
traversed were at war with each other ... One should
know that this was not a conflict of force with an
organized army or with pitched battles, except in rare
instances, or a conflict instigated by the lust and
ambition of some lords to seize the estates of others.
Their struggle was one of ambushes and subtlety in
which they attacked each other on fishing or hunting
trips or in their fields and along their roads wherever
they could find an enemy off guard. And those whom
they seized on such occasions, they held as slaves,
some in perpetual bondage with one foot maimed, as
we have seen in certain provinces, and some as
prisoners to be ransomed and exchanged. But the
hostility among these Indians amounted to no more
than the harm they inflicted upon their persons with
deaths, wounds, or shackles, for they made no
attempt to seize estates. If sometimes the battle were
more heated, they went so far as to burn towns and
devastate fields, but as soon as the conquerors had
inflicted the desired damage, they gathered in their
own lands without attempting to take possession of
the lands of others ... This warfare, they now look
upon as the natural order of things and, as a result,
regardless of where they are found, are always pro-
vided with arms, for in no place are they secure from
enemies ... a cacique [chief] does not carry on
Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms 65
warfare with just one of his neighbors, but with all
who share his boundaries ... (Vega, in Varner and
Varner 1951:487-8)
While this statement is exaggerated - alliances were
possible ensuring relative peace within fairly large areas
- the accounts do indicate considerable competition and
conflict was occurring between elites. A pattern of conti-
nual warfare and hostility would promote group soli-
darity by promoting a concern for mutual self-interest
and defense. It would also reinforce the position of the
elite since, given the possibility of hostile reception else-
where, commoner populations would have to stay in
their place. Evidence for intense warfare during the
Mississippian period has been documented archae-
ologically by the discovery of fortifications such as pali-
sades, bastions, and ditches at many sites (Larson
1972:384-8; DePratter 1983:48-9). Somewhat more indi-
rect evidence for warfare has also been recovered, such
as evidence of burning or of skeletal trauma (e.g. Larson
1972:390; Blakeley 1988; Milner, Anderson, and Smith
1991).
Factional competition between elites in nearby poli-
ties is well documented in the sixteenth-century ethno-
historic record. The long-term rivalry between the elites
of the chiefdoms of Pacaha and Casqui in northeast
Arkansas was described in detail in the accounts of the
De Soto entrada. It was evident that Pacaha was
expanding at the expense of Casqui:
For many centuries back this Cacique [Casqui] and
his parents, grandparents, and more remote ancestors
had waged war upon the lords of [Pacaha], a province
bordering on their own. And since these lords were
more powerful in both vassals and land, they had
pushed and were still pushing [Casqui] into a corner
and almost to the point of surrender, for he dared not
take up arms lest he anger and irritate the Cacique
[Pacaha], who as a more powerful person could and
might do him harm. Hence [Casqui] had remained
passive and had contented himself with guarding his
boundaries, neither going beyond them nor affording
his enemies an occasion to attack ... (Vega, in Varner
and Varner 1951:434-5)
The hostilities between Casqui and Pacaha, while ostens-
ibly brought about by Pacaha's territorial expansion,
were explicitly couched in terms of a jockeying for status
and prestige (pp.4348). Casqui's desecration of
Pacaha's ancestral sepulchres, his wives, and his sub-
jects, and his later insistence on a place of honor by De
Soto when meeting with Pacaha, were all tactics
 66 David G. Anderson

designed to reinforce his status relative to the other sidiary polity in the Coosa province twenty years earlier
(Casqui was able to accomplish these victories against when De Soto came through, had taken advantage of the
his more powerful neighbor by enlisting the aid of De weakened state of the paramount following European
Soto). contact to break away. The process of the decline of
The same pattern of interpolity elite competition is Coosa at the expense of its rival, Napochies, is outlined
also noted in the South Appalachian region, where the in the De Luna accounts, offering valuable information
provinces of Ocute in central Georgia and Cofitachequi about the process of factional competition:
in central South Carolina were expanding at the expense
In ancient times the Napochies were tributaries of the
of chiefdoms in between, in the Savannah River valley
Coza people, because this place (Coza) was always
(DePratter 1989:140-3; Anderson 1990a:623-30). The
recognized as head of the kingdom and its lord was
long-term effects of this kind of expansion could result in
considered to stand above the one of the Napochies.
the death or relocation of the losing populations, or their
Then the people from Coza began to decrease while
subjugation into tributary relationships. De Soto was
the Napochies were increasing until they refused to be
told that the conflict existing between the provinces of
their vassals, finding themselves strong enough to
Ocute and Cofitachequi had existed from time immemo-
maintain their liberty which they abused. Then those
rial, with no apparent contact between the elites of these
of Coza took to arms to reduce the rebels to their
polities. The Indians of Ocute were reportedly intimi-
former servitude, but the most victories were on the
dated and "dared not expand or go beyond their own
side of the Napochies. Those from Coza remained
boundaries" (Vega, in Varner and Varner 1951:284).
greatly affronted as well from seeing their ancient
Apparently nothing was said to De Soto about the
tribute broken off, as because they found themselves
Savannah River chiefdoms that had existed between
without strength to restore it. On that account they
these two polities only a century or so before.
had lately stopped their fights ... [and] had not gone
Sometimes rivalries between polities were for the into the battlefield, for fear lest they return van-
loyalties of elites in subject communities. A good quished, as before. (Padilla cited in Swanton
example of this was documented during the De Soto 1922:231-9)
entrada, when the expedition reached the town of Talisi
at the western margin of Coosa: The Spanish were enlisted on the side of Coosa and
quickly defeated the Napochies. This apparently
Now the people of Talisi were not very obedient to
strengthened Coosa, for by the time of the Pardo expedi-
the lord Coza because of the double dealing of
tions in 1566 and 1567 it was again reported to be a
another lord called Tasculuza, whose state bordered
powerful chiefdom. The example illustrates one
upon that of Coza, and who was both an unsafe
mechanism by which chiefly authority might be chal-
neighbor and an untrustworthy friend. It is true that
lenged by a rival faction, specifically the withholding of
the two Caciques did not wage open warfare, but
tribute (although the Napochies were also actively
Tasculuza was an arrogant and bellicose person who
killing Coosas). This would only occur as part of a bid
displayed much artfulness and trickery ... and, being
for local autonomy, since war was the likely outcome of
such a person, had disquieted this town so that it was
such a refusal. Warfare as a mechanism for establishing
somewhat rebellious. (Vega, in Varner and Varner
and enforcing tributary relationships is well documented
1951:346)
in the sixteenth century Southeast (DePratter 1983:44-
Communities near the boundaries of a chiefdom, given 67; Anderson 1990a: 150-7; Dye 1990). Competition
their distance from the center, probably enjoyed con- between rival factions within a complex chiefdom could,
siderable autonomy. The activities of rival factions in therefore, lead to social fissioning and organizational
these communities would, accordingly, have been diffi- collapse or relocation unless alliances (of a coercive or
cult for a paramount to address. cooperative nature) could be developed between the
Accounts of revolts by subsidiary elites within par- contending elites, to counteract this tendency. Political
ticular societies also exist from the early Southeast. relations between chiefdoms in the Southeast were,
When the De Luna expedition visited Coosa in 1560, for therefore, one way chiefs attempted to maintain control
example, they were enlisted in a military expedition to over rival factions within these societies.
exact restitution from the rival town of Napochies that The Napochies case illustrates how factional com-
had refused to submit tribute (DePratter 1983:57-8, petition could have led to the replacement of one
1734; Hudson 1988). The Napochies, apparently a sub- complex chiefdom by another. Population decline at a

paramount center brought about through reverses in
warfare, famine, or emigration could lead to the loss of
the numerical advantage in manpower (i.e. warriors)
held by that community over its neighbors. As the rela-
tive strength of neighboring societies grew, the power
and confidence of the elites in these societies would also
grow, and challenges to leadership would arise. Refusal
to submit tribute, actively hampering the formation of
alliances by the paramount with other communities, or
refusal to cooperate in communal ceremonial or con-
struction activities were ways by which such a challenge
could have been raised. Archaeological correlates of this
process would include evidence for population decline at
one or more centers, a change in the regional flow of
luxury/prestige goods and evidence for the decline,
destruction, or abandonment of one center at the same
time that another in the area was expanding.
In a classic example of elite competition, Marquardt
(1988:179-84) has summarized accounts describing the
succession of paramounts in the sixteenth-century
Calusa chiefdom of south Florida. Accession to power
was marked by severe social disruption, something
brought on, at least in part, by recent European contact,
the effects of disease, and the appearance of new sources
of wealth. To ensure and legitimize the eventual succes-
sion of a particular candidate adoptions and marriages
were arranged among allied factions, and these factions
planned or encouraged incidents damaging to the auth-
ority of principal rivals. As Marquardt (p. 187) noted:
"an ostensibly orderly, supernaturally sanctioned
succession to the seat of power was in fact beset by
rivalry, jealousy, and tension." Power was consolidated
following one succession by the execution of some fifteen
town chiefs suspected of treachery, which was in this
case defined as a suspected allegiance to other leaders.
One Spanish account, by the Jesuit Juan Rogel,
described the chief of the Calusa as "dancing about with
the heads of four chiefs whom he had been informed
intended to rebel and go over to his enemies with their
people. For this he had them slain" (Vargas Ugarte in
Marquardt 1988:180). The Calusa example suggests that
violence sometimes characterized competition for chiefly
office, and that threats of rebellion could have been dealt
with harshly.
Ancestral shrines were perceived as the ideological
centers of individual polities (Brown 1985:104). Desec-
ration of a rival society's temple, specifically its ancestral
burials, was considered an ultimate insult and a primary
goal in warfare between elites. There are several
examples from the accounts of the De Soto entrada
supporting this inference. The description of the sacking
Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms 67
of the principal town of Pacaha by Casqui is particularly
graphic:
Not content with having sacked the town and the
houses of the Curaca and with having made what
slaughter and seizures they could, the Casquins
moved on to the temple in the large public plaza,
which was the burial place of all who had ever ruled
that land - the father, grandfathers, and other
ancestors of [Pacaha]. The temples and sepulchres, as
we have stated elsewhere, are the most venerated and
esteemed sites among the natives of Florida ...
Summoning all of their forces so that everyone
might enjoy the triumph, the Casquins went to this
temple and sepulchre, and since they realized how
much [Pacaha] (proud and haughty because of their
not having attacked previously) would resent their
daring to enter and desecrate this place, not only
proceeded within but committed every infamy and
affront they could. Sacking it of all ornaments and
riches, they took the spoils and trophies which had
been made from the losses of their own ancestors.
They threw to the floor each of the wooden chests
which served as sepulchres, and for their own satis-
faction and vengeance as well as for an affront to
their enemies, strewed upon the ground the very
bones and bodies the chests enclosed. Afterward not
content with having cast these remains to the ground,
they trod upon them and kicked them with utter
contempt and scorn. (Vega, in Varner and Varner
1951:437-8)
This was not an isolated incident during the entrada.
Desecration of ancestral remains occurred when the
Indians of Ocute first reached Cofitachequi in South
Carolina, and when the Guachoyas entered Anilco,
probably in southern Arkansas (Hudson 1985; Vega, in
Varner and Varner 1951:292-3, 493). Undermining an
elite faction's authority, by striking at a source and
inspiration for its power, might be one way a rival
faction could coopt or bring about the relocation of
retinues or commoner labor forces. Permanent site aban-
donment might follow such desecration; the attached
dishonor may have been such as to preclude any reuse,
regardless of the extent of the facilities in place (although
Pacaha himself set his temple back in order; Vega, in
Varner and Varner 1951:45, see also DePratter 1983:63).
There is evidence from the accounts to support the
inference that towns or centers might be abandoned
upon desecration or defeat in warfare. The town of
Vitachuco in Florida was destroyed by its inhabitants
upon their defeat by De Soto. A Spanish troop,
 68 David G. Anderson

returning to the town some time after its warriors were often fragile nature of the relationships between a para-
routed in battle: mount and the local and regional ruling elites in those
chiefdoms.
discovered that the entire place had been laid waste
and burned. Its walls had been leveled to the ground
Succession to chiefly office
and all of the bodies of the Indians who had died ...
Internecine warfare, commonly over succession to the
were now piled up in the fields, for their people had
chieftainship, was rife in Southeastern society. The early
resolved not to bury them. The town had been des-
Spanish accounts are filled with stories of rebellion,
troyed and abandoned, as the Indians later explained,
treachery, and warfare directed toward obtaining chiefly
because it had been founded in an unpropitious and
authority. The extent of factional competition while a
doomed place; and the dead had been left without
chief was alive depended on the skill with which
sepulchre to serve as food for birds and wild beasts
potential rivals were controlled. The death or weakening
because they were ill-starred men who had not suc-
of a chief would frequently trigger a period of upheaval,
ceeded in their purpose. For among the Indians this
which would continue until a successor could consoli-
was a most infamous punishment, which, according
date power.
to their pagan custom, was bestowed upon those who
were unlucky and unsuccessful in war as well as those Chiefly succession appears to have been matrilineal in
who were accursed and nefarious. In this manner, most Mississippian polities, that is, from a chief to his
therefore, they had rewarded both the town and those sister's son, or nephew (Figure 6.2) (DePratter 1983:100-
who died there. (Vega, in Varner and Varner 10). Direct evidence for this was observed by De Soto in
1951:198) the South Appalachian area. At Chiaha, for example, the

Equation of an ancestor cult with land ownership/

holding is fairly common among more complex societies,
hence the desecration of an ancestral shrine is a chal-
lenge not only to a chief's authority per se but also GENERATION IDEALIZED KINSHIP
specifically to his right to hold or control territory. The
fact that centers, once abandoned or desecrated, might
not be reoccupied may help to explain why major Miss-
issippian sites such as Cahokia were permanently aban-
doned well before contact.
The maintenance of temple/mortuary complexes
would ideologically predispose an elite succeeding to the
chiefdomship to remain near his home community.
Where succession was interrupted, specifically when a
rival seized power, this same ideological predisposition
could prompt the relocation of the center to the commu-
nity where the new chief's ancestral temple/mortuary
complex was located. Newly ascendant Mississippian
elites were thus ideologically bound to their place of
origin, where their ancestors were buried. Relocation to
previously dominant centers where elaborate ceremonial
facilities were already in place does not appear to have
occurred invariably or even typically.
The effects of factional competition may thus be seen
in the movement of chiefly political centers over the O A
landscape, typified in the archaeological record by the Female Male Chief's sister Chief
abandonment of sites and areas, often with evidence of
destruction. The Mississippian archaeological record
from across the Southeast is filled with cases where
chiefdoms emerged, expanded, fragmented, and then Fig. 6.2 Matrilineal succession to the chieftainship in
sometimes re-emerged, highlighting the dependent and Mississippian society.
 Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms 69

young cacique noted that "an uncle of mine governs this construction of new mound stages. This is indicated
country, in my place, til I be of mature age" (Elvas, in among the Natchez, although the account dates to the
Bourne 1904:1, 76), while at Cofaqui, where the chief early eighteenth century: "When the great chief dies they
was an old man, "his nephew governed for him" (Ranjel, demolish his cabin and then raise a new mound, on
in Bourne 1904:11, 91). While succession was theoreti- which they build the cabin of him who is to replace him
cally based on kinship, and typically was matrilineal, it in this dignity, for he never lodges in that of his pre-
was rarely secure. There is a considerable body of evi- decessor" (Le Petit, cited in Swanton 1911:103).
dence from the historic accounts as well as supporting Descriptions of burials of chiefly elites in mounds also
ethnographic data from other parts of the world to exist about this time from the Chitmacha of the Mississ-
indicate that chiefly succession was frequently chal- ippian delta area and among the Choctaw; in the latter
lenged (Anderson 1990a:50-7, 131-42). case communal charnel houses were apparently covered
Strict adherence to rules of succession was unlikely with earth when full, and a new charnel house was then
where obvious differences in power bases or ability built on that location and the process repeated (Swanton
existed between the designated heir and rival elites. 1946:726, 729).
Lawson, although referring to events at a much later The archaeological record can be expected to vary
date, around AD 1700, noted that violence sometimes depending on the course factional competition took.
accompanied chiefly succession: The assassination of a chief and his replacement by a
close relative, particularly one from the same commu-
The succession falls not to the king's son, but to his
nity, would be unlikely to leave major traces, although
sister's son, which is a sure way to prevent imposters
the construction of a new mound stage or temple might
in the succession. Sometimes they poison the heir to take place. Such a process would probably occur fairly
make way for another, which is not seldom done, abruptly, and would be unlikely to be preceded by a
when they do not approve of the youth that is to period of overt public competition (i.e., entertaining
succeed them. The king himself is commonly chief and feasting, gift-giving, and the formation of marriage
Dr. in that cure. (Lawson 1967:205) alliances) directed toward building a powerbase, since
The chief himself, or other principal elites close to him, the usurpers, as tolerated and possibly trusted
might do away with potential heirs that did not meet members of the paramount's community, would
expected leadership standards. already be close in status and position (as well as
While genealogical ranking was unquestionably physically close) to the leader they planned to depose.
important in succession, so too was secular power, as Competition between individuals or elites in a number
illustrated in an exchange recorded between the rival of differing centers, such as between subsidiary or tri-
chiefs of Pacaha and Casquin: butary polities of a complex chiefdom, in contrast,
would probably initially center around prestige goods
there was much contention, as to which of them production and consumption rituals. Where strong fac-
would sit on the right hand of the Governor [De tions were dispersed over a number of centers com-
Soto]. Pacaha said to Casquin: "You know well that I petition was probably more intense, as elites jockeyed
am a greater lord than you, and of more honorable for power, and would tend to leave more pronounced
parents and grandparents, and that to me belongs a archaeological signatures.
higher place." Casquin replied as follows: "True it is
that you are a greater lord than I, and that your
Marriage and post-marital residence
forebears were greater than mine ... But you know
Mechanisms dictating permissible marriage ties together
well that I am older and mightier than you, and that I
with post-marital residence patterns also have a marked
confine you in your walls whenever I wish." (Ranjel,
effect on the incidence of factional competition. Post-
in Bourne 1904:11, 143-4)
marital residence in the Southeast was typically matrilo-
The size and stability of elite power bases, as well as cal, although most of the cases for which good data exist
genealogical position, were important considerations date to well after contact. Accordingly, men would relo-
when power passed from one leader to another. cate to their wives' communities upon marriage. To
Resolving archaeological evidence for the succession reduce the influence of males marrying women in the
of elites is difficult, because of the short time scales chief's lineage, and hence relocating in close physical
involved, although there is support for the inference that proximity to the center of power, specific rules were in
the death of a chief may have been marked by the place in some chiefdoms to suppress any political
 70 David G. Anderson
ambitions these individuals might have. Thus, among
the Natchez:
The princesses of the blood never espouse any but
men of obscure family, and they have but one
husband, but they have the right of dismissing him
whenever it pleases them, and of choosing another
among those of the nation, provided he has not made
any other alliance among them. If the husband has
been guilty of an infidelity, the princess may have his
head cut off in an instant; but she is not herself
subject to the same law, for she may have as many
lovers as she pleases without the husband having any
power to complain. In the presence of his wife he acts
with the most profound respect, never eats with her,
and salutes her with howls as is done by her servants.
(Le Petit in Swanton 1911:1903)
The marriage of the chief's sister to an "obscure" com-
moner, and keeping of him in a subservient position, was
one way to minimize factional conflict.
Strict adherence to a pattern of matrilocal residence
would mean that chiefly heirs might be required to marry
outside their local community. This would dramatically
reduce the possibility of chiefly succession continuing
within a given center, unless rules granting exceptions
were in place. This appears to have been the case. Com-
moners in most Southeastern chiefdoms were typically
monogamous and matrilocal, while elites were typically
polygynous, with spouses either relocating or remaining
in their own home (Swanton 1946:701-9). Among the
Natchez, men could:
have as many wives as they chose. Nevertheless, the
common people generally have but one or two. This,
however, is not the case with the chiefs ... Although
they have many wives, they keep but one or two in
their cabins; the rest remain at the houses of their
parents, where they go to see them when they wish.
(Le Petit cited in Swanton 1911:97)
Chiefly elites thus appear to have been exempt from
matrilocal post-marital residence rules.
Polygyny and other marriage arrangements were
important mechanisms by which status and power rela-
tions were acknowledged, alliances were sealed, and
administrative structures filled in Southeastern chief-
doms. Although ethnohistoric accounts indicate that
polygyny and the out-marriage of high-status females
occurred among elites, how these rules were followed
apparently depended upon the relative status of the
participants. Given the importance of the chief's sister in
producing his successor, and the presence of mechanisms
such as commoner marriage to keep her from falling
under the control of rival elites, alliances by marriage in
dominant Southeastern chiefdoms were probably sealed
through the position of the chief rather than through his
sister. That is, elite female outmarriage in complex Miss-
issippian chiefdoms below the level of the ruling lineage
was probably unidirectional, from lesser to more domi-
nant elites. While the highest female elites had to marry
commoners, lesser female elites, particularly those from
other communities, could have married upward. Mar-
riage elites of roughly equal status may have occurred to
foster alliances. In subservient communities or polities
alliance with higher centers may well have been sealed
through the female line, with either the relocation of
women to the chiefly center, or the marriage of one of the
chief's relatives or supporters to a female elite in the
outlying community.
A problem with matrilocal post-marital residence
systems is that they tend to create groups of males with
no vested interest in working together within individual
communities. That is, males linked by proximity rather
than kinship tend not to cooperate with one another. In
a society with matrilineal descent and matrilocal post-
marital residence this has advantages and disadvantages
for a chief. His core male kinsmen tend to outmarry,
reducing his primary support base, while males marrying
in may raise challenges to this position. Adherence to a
pattern of matrilocal post-marital residence (except for
the chief) would, however, be an effective method by
which a chief could disperse brothers or other close male
relatives, thus building up a regional power base while
minimizing the potential threats that arise from their
close proximity (Figure 6.3). There is evidence that
vassal chiefs administering outlying centers were often
the direct kin of the paramount, and probably appointed
by him (DePratter 1983:25-8). Thus, Satouriona, a
paramount occupying the region of the St. John's River
in Florida, was described by Laudonniere as having
"thirty vassal chiefs under him, of whom ten were his
brothers" (Laudonniere, in Bennett 1975:76), and
comparable situations were encountered by De Soto.
While this practice would place potential rivals in their
own powerbase, it would also isolate them from other
related elites (and hence potential supporters) in second-
ary centers, where they would not have the resources
that the paramount could draw upon.
A strategy of dispersing near-kin through marital alli-
ances, while initially stabilizing, would create problems
later on, as these elites built up their own power bases,
and as questions arose about how their successors would
be chosen (Fig. 6.4). A critical question would be
 Political evolution of Mississippian chief doms 71

Ruling matriline

Paramount center

/ \ Secondary center

PC = Paramount chief

SC = Secondary chief

/ = deceased

Fig. 6.3 Dispersal of chiefly elites in Southeastern Mississippian chief doms: use of matrilocal post-marital residence
to relocate potential rivals while building a power base.

whether the children of relocated elites (in the matriline
they married into) would succeed to power in these
centers, or whether new elites/administrators would be
imposed from above, from the paramount center. Thus,
matrilineal succession coupled with matrilocal residence
comprised a structurally ingrained, potentially destabi-
lizing characteristic of Southeastern Mississippian
society.
Archaeological correlates of factional competition:
considerations from the Southeastern United States
Resolving correlates of factional competition and
related historical factors that prompted sociocultural
change in Mississippian society is a particularly exciting
challenge facing Southeastern archaeologists. What we
are attempting is the development of measures and
linking arguments by which processes such as alliance
formation and maintenance, elite legitimizing strategies,
and political competition may be examined in pre-
history. Such measures are critical to the study of socio-
political change in chiefdom societies. One procedure
employed to measure factional competition involves
examining changes in the production and distribution of
elite goods. Brumfiel (1987a:667) has recently argued
that elite consumption (i.e., prestige goods production,
exchange, and use) "was the means by which status,
power, and alliance were affirmed, contested, and
changed" and that it served as "an idiom of political
negotiation." It has been variously suggested that the
volume of elite goods in circulation, and their quality
(measured in terms of the labor investment in their
production), may reflect the overall health or political
stability of a chiefdom (Peebles and Kus 1977; Welch
1991). Marked changes in prestige goods flow, in this
view, might signal changes in organizational stability
and complexity. That is, when leadership positions were
stable, elite goods production and distribution would
also likely be stable. Leaders in trouble, in contrast,
might step up the flow of goods, increasing the kind of
activity designed to reinforce and legitimize their
position. If attempts to re-establish a power base proved
 72 David G. Anderson

Paramount center
Secondary center Secondary center

AA / \
Ruling matriline
1

r
i i 1 1
A o == A s c pc
A 0 == A
SC
A SCA
^~~ !
i i II II 1
ASCi O == ASCP A PC
A O =
A A A A8?1 O = A SCP A
\ /^^-_ 1 ' ^-^
\ / ' \ /
? ?
PC = Paramount chief
SC = Secondary chief
SQ = Secondary chief (succession remains internal)
SCP = Secondary chief (imposed from paramount chief)
? = Nature of succession unknown

Fig. 6.4 Dispersal of chiefly elites in Southeastern Mississippian chiefdoms: sources of instability in later
generations.

unsuccessful a decline in theflowof prestige goods might
soon follow, since the elites would no longer control the
resources (i.e., labor surplus) necessary to maintain the
flow.
A decline in the flow of prestige goods within and
between chiefdoms may not always mean these systems
were in trouble, however. Instead, it might mean they
were becoming increasingly powerful and centralized. In
systems with strong authority structures, particularly
those based on secular power (i.e. coercion) rather than
ideologically based legitimizing strategies, less effort
may have been required to keep followers subordinate.
That is, loyalty could have been maintained by force
rather than purchased or co-opted. Archaeological
examples from the Southeast illustrate these processes. A
decline in elite goods, as reflected in mortuary offerings,
for example, has been observed prior to the aban-
donment of several centers in the region, notably at
Moundville, Spiro, and in several small chiefdoms along
the Savannah River (Fig. 6.5); at Moundville and at
several of the Savannah River sites, moreover, this
decrease occurred well before the collapse of these soci-
eties, when they were still presumably in their prime
(Anderson 1990a:593-6; Steponaitis 1991:208-20). At
Cahokia elite goods exchange even increased for a time
as the chiefdom declined, in what has been interpreted as
a futile attempt by the elite to maintain their position
(Milner 1990:31).
Another archaeological correlate of factional com-
petition appears to be the amount of labor invested in
the production of elite artifacts themselves. Competition
between rival factions among elites is widely recognized
as a primary, ingrained factor contributing to the insta-
bility of chiefdom political systems (Sahlins 1958:176
96; Helms 1979:24; Wright 1984). As competition
between factions increased, the complexity of design and
the quality of prestige goods sometimes increased (e.g.,
Feinman 1980; Brumfiel 1987a). Measuring levels of
competition through analyses of elite goods occurrence
and quality, however, is difficult in the Southeast given
the nature of the surviving archaeological record.
Contact period ceramic assemblages in many areas

known to have been dynamic chiefdoms often seem
fairly drab, suggesting prestige-based elite display and
exchange was in other, more perishable commodities.
This is indicated in the ethnohistoric accounts, which
repeatedly describe the gifts given to the Spanish
explorers as consisting of perishables such as food,
mulberry fiber and deerskin blankets, and fur and feather
capes. Lists of locally valued commodities from this
0 miles 200
0 kilometers 200
Mississippian archaeological sites
Fall line
Fig. 6.5 Mississippian archaeological sites in the Southeastern United States
(sixteenth-century and later polities in capitals).
Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms 73
period, such as the description of the contents of the
mortuary temple at Talimeco, in fact, tend to be domi-
nated by perishable items. Unfortunately for archae-
ologists the ceramics, carved shell, and ground-stone
artifacts that dominate local assemblages of presumed
elite goods are rarely mentioned in the historic accounts.
Elaborate incised, engraved, or painted wares were
present in some areas of the Southeast at various times
 74 David G. Anderson
during the Mississippian period, however. When these
wares were widespread, such as the regional distribution
of Ramey Incised pottery from Cahokia, they sent a
strong signal that intensive elite exchange and inter-
action was occurring (Milner 1990; Pauketat and
Emerson 1991). The contrast these esoteric wares
provide when compared with most Mississippian
ceramics has prompted some discussion about the exist-
ence of "sacred" as opposed to "secular" ceramic assem-
blages (Sears 1973). The more elaborate ceramics usually
occur in mortuary or ceremonial as opposed to domestic
contexts, or in contexts indicating use by elites as
opposed to commoners. Given the role food played as
tribute and as a means of rewarding and hence retaining
followers, food containers or dispensers (i.e., elaborate
ceramics) could have played a role in elite consumption
rituals. Food distribution may have been a form of
factional competition centered on feasting and the
public display of wealth.
Analyses of seemingly mundane vessel assemblages
have also revealed patterns that may be related to status
signaling and elite consumption behavior. Shapiro
(1985), for example, working with ceramics from the
Dyar site in central Georgia, has shown that large
storage jars tended to occur in disproportionate
numbers in mound as opposed to village contexts, sug-
gesting elite storage and control of commodities. Hally's
(1986) work with ceramics from domestic contexts in
several Georgia chiefdoms suggests that greater diversity
in vessel form characterizes the more complex societies,
which may in turn reflect greater local interest in con-
sumption rituals. This inference could be tested through
analyses of the location and context of these materials in
site assemblages, particularly the kind and size of the
structures they were found in or near, or the kinds of
food remains found with them.
Factional competition can also be examined using
settlements as well as artifactual data. The emergence of
complex chiefly centers in some areas clearly occurred at
the expense of elite factions in other nearby villages or
centers, which either underwent a reduction in size and
importance or were abandoned outright. This pattern -
the occurrence of major episodes of moundbuilding and
population increase at a primary center coupled with the
reduction in the size and importance (measured in the
incidence of elite grave goods) of nearby secondary vil-
lages and centers - has been documented at both
Moundville and Cahokia (Steponaitis 1978:444-9;
Peebles 1987:7-9; Milner 1990:28). Reducing the power
and prestige of political rivals would greatly diminish the
likelihood of successful challenges to chiefly authority.
In some cases, such as at Cahokia and Moundville, the
emergence of a strong central community (and, hence,
elites) is marked by the appearance of large numbers of
small, widely scattered hamlets. Why such population
dispersal occurred is not well understood. The most
common explanation advanced sees it as reflecting popu-
lation increase and the need to ensure the production of
adequate food and other resources. Dispersing popu-
lations might reduce the stress on local resources such as
firewood and game, while dispersing agricultural fields
would have been an effective risk minimization strategy
in a region where rainfall can vary from year to year and
from location to location. Dispersing households might
have been considered an effective defensive measure,
since each residence could serve as something of a trip-
wire, capable of raising the hue and cry in the event of
raids. Dispersing possible contenders to power, or at
least their potential supporters, may have also helped
reduce social tension and political challenges. Alter-
natively, the dispersal of commoner households might
have been a stratagem of commoner resistance to elite
rule. Speaking of the Natchez, Charlevoix noted "the
savages, from whom the great chief has a right to take all
they have, get as far from him as they can; and therefore
many villages of this nation have been formed at some
distance" (Charlevoix, in French 1851:159).
The archaeological record of complex chiefdoms in
the Southeast illustrates their fragility and, with few
exceptions, their rather ephemeral nature. Hally (1987),
in an examination of mound stage construction at
twenty-four Mississippian ceremonial centers in
northern Georgia, found that few were occupied longer
than 100-150 years, and many were in use for much
shorter intervals. In some areas where centers occurred,
notably within the Oconee and Savannah River valleys
of eastern Georgia (Williams and Shapiro 1987; Ander-
son 1990a), centers were occupied and abandoned with
such frequency that the political landscape has been
likened to a series of blinking Christmas tree lights
(Mark Williams: pers. comm. 1992). Shifts in centers of
power may have occurred for ecological reasons, such as
firewood or soils depletion, but it is probable that many
cases reflect changing power relations, as first one
faction and then another within a chiefdom or group of
chiefdoms gained ascendancy.
The intensity of factional competition in various parts
of the Southeast also appears to be related to physiogra-
phy. Following arguments advanced by Blake and Clark
(n.d.), social interaction is likely to be greatest in open,
homogeneous, or otherwise unrestricted environments,
and lowest in circumscribed, patchy, and restricted

environments. Paramounts should thus be able to exer-
cise greater control over elites in subsidiary communities
or polities when they are situated in fairly uniform or
homogeneous landscapes, with few natural barriers to
interaction. Such a situation may characterize develop-
ments within the American Bottoms (Milmer 1990). Less
control over outlying populations, resulting in a greater
likelihood of factional competition, would be likely in
more irregular or patchy environments. Throughout
most of the Southeast, Mississippian populations occur
along widely separated linear river systems, a settlement
distribution fostering local autonomy while hindering
efficient information flow and the development of large
polities. Information flow between communities in
different river systems would have been difficult, restric-
ting political development primarily to within individual
drainages.
The incidence of factional competition in the South-
east may have also been linked to the ability of potential
rivals to access elite goods exchange networks. Where a
paramount was able to maintain rigid control over elite
goods, such control would likely stifle rivals and ensure
the paramount's stability. Where access to exchange
networks was easy or unrestricted, in contrast, rival
factions might emerge fairly readily. The centers of many
of the larger Southeastern chiefdoms, such as Etowah
and Spiro, were located at or near major physiographic
boundaries. This may have been part of a deliberate
strategy by the ruling elite to control theflowof prestige
goods from one region to another, rather than or in
addition to taking advantage of the environmental diver-
sity and natural productivity of these areas, the tradi-
tional explanations for the occurrence of centers in these
settings. The location of centers at major communi-
cations and transportation nodes would undoubtedly
have had a stifling effect on elites in centers displaced
from these nodes.
Factional competition in the late prehistoric southeast:
evolutionary trends
Brumfiel (1987a) has recently shown how elite goods
consumption varied in response to changing political
conditions in the late prehispanic Valley of Mexico.
Taking a similar stance, I argue that elite goods pro-
duction, distribution, and consumption in the Southeast
varied in response to changing patterns of regional poli-
tical structure and inter-polity relations, as well as to
changes in the mechanisms by which elites within indi-
vidual chiefdoms maintained power. Such a view helps
to explain a major change that occurs in the regional
Political evolution of Mississippian chiefdoms 75
archaeological record around AD 1350-1400, that
demarcates the Middle to Late Mississippian transition.
In the Southeast, elite goods production and inter-
regional exchange seem to peak from about AD 1200-
1300, at the height of the occurrence of the elaborate
iconography and mortuary ceremonialism of the South-
ern Ceremonial Complex (SCC) (Muller 1989). Relig-
ious symbolism pervades the region at this time, and is
expressed on a wide range of materials, including marine
shell, copper, and pottery. This period and the centuries
immediately prior to it saw the greatest monumental
construction in the region, with extensive mound build-
ing and elaborate mortuary ritual documented at centers
such as Cahokia, Etowah, Lake Jackson, Moundville,
and Spiro. Alliance, exchange, and ritual/ceremonial
networks were apparently operating throughout the
region. The incidence of extra-local prestige markers,
such as marine shell and copper, peaks at many sites,
while elaborate ceramics such as Ramey Incised pottery
from Cahokia and engraved pottery from Moundville
are found over large areas, suggesting elaborate
exchange relationships between the highest tier of elites.
Warfare does not appear to have greatly constrained
inter-polity elite interaction or intra-polity monumen-
tal construction.
This pattern of elite goods exchange, monumental
construction, and warfare changed dramatically in the
Southeast after c. AD 1350-1400. Mound building dim-
inished in many areas, while evidence for settlement
nucleation and large-scale warfare increased markedly,
the former apparently in response to the latter. Inter-
regional elite goods exchange fell off, particularly the
widespread exchange of icons and other elaborate arti-
facts characteristic of the SCC. While localized intra-
polity exchange continued, the goods exchanged were
for the most part local in origin. These trends have been
documented in many areas of the Southeast, including in
the American Bottom (Milner 1990:25, 31), in northeast
Arkansas (Morse and Morse 1983:247-50, 255, 281-4),
at Moundville (Peebles 1987:14-17; Steponaitis
1991:209; Welch 1991), and in northern Florida (Scarry
1990:183).
The Late Mississippian has sometimes been referred
to as a period of cultural decline because of this dimin-
ution in mound building and inter-regional exchange
(e.g., Peebles 1986). While mound building continued to
occur, far less energy was invested, and effort compar-
able to that noted earlier at Cahokia, Etowah, or
Moundville is non-existent. Elaborate mortuary behav-
ior like that found in Mound 72 at Cahokia, at Mound C
at Etowah, or in the Craig Mound at Spiro, centers that
 76 David G. Anderson
were in marked decline or gone by AD 1400, is certainly
not evident. Elite exchange continued, but the scale
apparently shifted from the regional to the local level,
with the flow of goods increasingly directed within
rather than between polities. The purpose of this
exchange appears to have been to develop and maintain
the loyalty of subsidiary elites rather than to maintain
alliances with the highest tier of elites across the region.
The rise in warfare throughout the region may have
made ties between polities difficult, and necessitated
greater attention to defense (including maintaining the
loyalty and support of followers, who would also be
defenders) than to ceremonialism.
This patterning may also be related to changes in the
nature of authority structures within Mississippian soci-
eties. Elites' appeal to ideology to legitimize their right to
power appears to have given way, over time, to more
secular authority structures, employing greater overt use
offeree (Anderson 1990b: 193). That is, over the course
of the Mississippian, the strategy by which elites legiti-
mized their privileged position and authority (including
how they controlled rival factions), I believe, changed
dramatically. During the Middle Mississippian, elite
control was maintained, at least in part, by their partici-
pation in region-wide ceremonial and exchange net-
works, which emphasized their control over events and
materials at great distances, over what Helms (1979) has
called "esoteric knowledge." In the Late Mississippian,
in contrast, as regional populations grew, competition
and warfare rather than cooperation and exchange came
to dominate inter-polity relationships. The cooperation
of local rather than more distant allies increasingly
came to be required to maintain social prerogatives, and
goods exchange tended in this direction, to develop and
maintain local alliances. While the inter-regional elite
goods exchange network characteristic of the Middle
Mississippian helped reinforce local authority, in part
through direct or indirect appeals to sacred authority,
the Late Mississippian pattern of localized exchange was
directed toward maintaining more secular cooperative
or coercive mechanisms.
These changing regional patterns of warfare, elite
goods exchange, settlement patterning, and political
structure from the Middle to Late Mississippian should
not be considered indicative of cultural decline, as is
often suggested, but instead may reflect a natural, evolu-
tionary trajectory that might have led, over time, to more
complex organizational structures. The complex chief-
doms encountered by the Spanish explorers penetrating
the Southeast in the early sixteenth century were
densely populated and geographically extensive, and
were probably equal in scale to anything that came
before. Where they apparently differed from the earlier
chiefdoms was in how authority was maintained and
utilized.
Conclusions
Competition between elites for followers was the basis of
chiefly power, and the source of factional competition in
Southeastern Mississippian culture. Because power in
these societies was kin-based, this limited its scope and
effectiveness, and necessitated a continual effort on the
part of the dominant elites to maintain and legitimize
their authority. The fact that a chief's principal support-
ers were also typically his most likely successors and,
hence, potentially his greatest rivals, meant that fac-
tional competition was universal in these societies. Fac-
tional competition, I believe, played an important role in
the evolution of Mississippian culture in general, and in
the rise and decline of individual societies. The long-term
evolutionary effects of this process should not be over-
looked, since they may help to explain how more
complex social formations (i.e., states) may have come
about. The end result of a pattern of repeated challenges
to chiefly authority in an area where such authority was
initially weak would likely be the emergence of ever-
stronger institutions of social and political control.
Intensive elite factional competition would thus, over
time, select for ever-stronger leaders and increasingly
secular authority structures. The broad changes in poli-
tical organization that are observed over the course of
the Mississippian period in the Southeast appear to be
directly tied to this process.
Acknowledgments
The author would like to thank the following people for
their advice and assistance in the preparation of this
paper: Elizabeth Brumfiel, John E. Clark, Chester
DePratter, Richard I. Ford, David J. Hally, Charles M.
Hudson, Sergei Kan, Stephen A. Kowalewski, Kenneth
E. Sassaman, Marvin T. Smith, and Henry T. Wright,
and the anonymous Cambridge Press reviewers. Julie B.
Smith prepared the graphics.
PART III

States

7 acceptance of state ideology and legitimacy, usually
Ethnicity and political
control in a complex society:
the Tarascan state of
prehispanic Mexico
HELEN PERLSTEIN POLLARD
The interrelationship between ethnic units and a central
political authority is known historically to have been
crucial to the operation of complex societies. In the
process of this interaction central authorities, par-
ticularly ruling elites, have created new ethnic groups,
have altered the attributes which define ethnic identity,
and have restructured relationships between ethnic
groups (Enloe 1980:17ff.). Political authorities have two
fundamental goals for the survival of their centralized
power: (1) the economic exploitation of populations and
resources, and (2) the protection of the integrity of the
state frontiers. In achieving both these goals ethnic
diversity can either facilitate or hinder elite action.
Centralized authorities can assure maximal access to
populations and resources when decision making flows
from the top downward, according to principles estab-
lished by dominant elites. Ethnic diversity often disrupts
this flow, by interposing local or regional leaders, who
acquire power not through their allegiance to central
hierarchies, but through positions of ethnic status. Deci-
sion making may be undertaken to reflect the needs of
local populations or local elites at the expense of the
state. On the other hand, under conditions of rapid
territorial expansion, when large populations and/or
resources are being incorporated into a single political
unit, the existing lines of authority, legitimacy, and
social cohesion present in ethnically distinct populations
may provide central authorities with an infrastructure
of political and economic networks that can be tapped
to the benefit of the state. In a similar manner, the main-
tenance of the state's territorial integrity demands
populations willing to defend that territory, and not
themselves act to foster rebellion against central auth-
ority. That can be achieved in at least two ways: the
through the identification of individuals and groups as a
single social group, i.e., common ethnicity; or the accept-
ance of common self-interest among ethnically diverse
populations who see their imminent survival as depend-
ent on subordination to a central authority. The second
is often found on active military frontiers or among
refugee populations fleeing conquest. To the state such
peoples can provide valuable service as warriors, mess-
engers, spies, and long-distance traders, services that
may outweigh the hazard of desertion.
To a great extent our understanding of the evolution
of complex societies is based on societies known pri-
marily or exclusively through archaeology. One
approach to studying the archaeology of ethnicity, that
of ethnoarchaeology, has primarily concentrated on
acephalous societies, attempting to test the regularities
in relationships between isolable "cultures" and artifact
distributions (e.g. Hodder 1979). A second major
approach, modeling the spatial and functional distri-
bution of prehistoric ethnic groups on the basis of
ethnohistoric evidence, has the advantage of dealing
directly with complex, ethnically plural societies. The
primary disadvantage is its limitation to those societies
knowable through both ethnohistoric and archaeo-
logical information. These societies, while representing
only a small sample of complex societies which have
ever evolved, nevertheless provide a basic resource for
the identification of those ethnic processes of sig-
nificance in societal evolution and their detection
archaeologically. In the New World such an approach
has been used in the Andes to evaluate the patterns of
Inka expansion (Morris 1982; Rowe 1982; Wachtel
1982, among others) and to generate models of ethnic/
state interaction which can be applied to earlier periods
(Schaedel 1978).
The central defining feature of an ethnic group, self-
identification, and categorization by the governing elite,
is clearly beyond the resources of archaeologically
derived research. Nevertheless, because ethnicity is gen-
erally associated with high rates of endogamy, the
sharing of clusters of beliefs and values, marked by the
use of a common language, and is often territorially
isolable, the discernment of ethnic variation is not
impossible. As with all aspects of archaeological analy-
sis, the introduction of ethnicity into the variables
studied must be done with care. Ethnic boundaries are
fluid, contracting or expanding with major political and
economic shifts in the society at large. Ethnic identifica-
tions coexist with other social identifications, meaning
79
 80 Helen Perlstein Pollard

that occupational and class boundaries, for example, territory (Gorenstein and Pollard 1983, Pollard 1993).
may cross-cut ethnic groups. Different artifact classes, or When viewed from the perspective of the geopolitical
properties of artifacts may signal these different social core, the Lake Patzcuaro Basin, these characteristics can
boundaries. Moreover, within a single multi-ethnic, be related to the emergence, by the protohistoric period,
complex society the intensity of ethnic affiliation may of a social system with a fully Tarascan identity, pro-
differ, and along with this the number and kinds of duced by the conscious subordination and replacement
markers used by a group to signal ethnicity may vary. of local ethnic/linguistic status as the basis for social or
Finally, the archaeologist deals with units of time that political power. Despite clear indications of earlier
often compress ethnic "maps" and obscure the processes ethnic heterogeneity in central Michoacan (Relation de
of ethnic emergence and change. Michoacdn [1541] 1956), by the sixteenth century the
Just as complex societies vary in their basic structures population was self-identifying and being identified by
and developmental trajectories, one must expect similar others as solely Tarascan (Relation de Michoacdn [1541]
variation in the structure and significance of ethnicity. 1956; Suma de Visitas de Pueblos [1547-50] 1905; Rela-
As part of the larger process of developing theories of ciones Geogrdficas [1579-81] 1987; Warren 1968, 1985,
the nature of complex societies, one goal should there- among others).
fore be the development of models of ethnicity, based on Such subordination and replacement of ethnic vari-
various ethnohistorically knowable societies, and their ation distinguishes this system from the mainstream of
judicious application to earlier polities. With this goal in protohistoric Mesoamerica, which was characterized by
mind, a model of the structure of ethnicity in the proto- ethnic economic and political specialization and multi-
historic Tarascan state of central Mexico (AD 1450- ethnic social classes (Carrasco 1971; Zantwijk 1973).
1520) is herein presented (Fig. 7.1). Along the Tarascan military frontier, however, the
The Tarascan territorial state in its sixteenth-century Tarascan polity was multi-ethnic, plural, and demo-
form is renowned for its high degree of political graphically largely non-Tarascan (Mendieta y Nunez
centralization and relatively unchallenged control of its 1940; Brand 1943; Gorenstein 1974, 1985; Herrejon
Peredo 1978; Gonzalez Brespo 1979; Contreras Ramirez
1987). Taken together, these policies, the one emphasiz-
ing social homogeneity of the elite and a new common
Tarascan identity, and the other emphasizing plurality
and heterogeneity, appear to be in conflict.
However, these two distinct policies of ethnic assimi-
lation and ethnic segregation, dominated community
interaction in geographically separate zones of the
Tarascan polity. By 1520 they had resulted in the ethnic
boundaries recorded in the early documents and mapped
by Brand (1943; Fig. 7.2). Combining our knowledge of
the ecological, economic, political, and artifactual vari-
ation within this territory we can propose the following
model of the Tarascan state.

Zone of assimilation
This is the territory within which Tarascan was the
dominant language and cultural identity was ethnic Tar-
= AZTEC ascan. It included at least two distinct regions.
||f TARASCAN
Ethnic heartland
QUICHE
This is the zone within which the Tarascan political core
0 100 200 existed, within which Tarascan values and norms were
held by the bulk of the population, and within which
there was a similar economic and settlement adaptation
to the region (Stanislawski 1947). Thus, this zone defines
Fig. 7.1 Protohistoric Mesoamerica. the regional marketing network of the core (Fig. 7.3) and
 Ethnicity in the Tarascan state 81

104f_ "2

COCA
V
*
MEXICANO -"- GUAMARE f
^CORRUPTO
CORRUPTO )

( J.r.cu.ro

W PINOME / ^^^ *+++ Y ^*^^^4^,

J*s i Jiqui.p.n | G u . n t m b . , ^ - " ^ ( J.ru ^ M a y . o ^
N
i V Lt^l ^ \ Xacon.. Copandaro# """^ ^ ^ N B | J ^ A r "
f W
^ - ^ t > I r ( \ ^ ^ Zinai

^ MATLATXINCA
IqLhL

CUAUHCOMECA \

VTl.leh.|M
garl-hoato [Pungarabata]

I ' Tlalpahala

DOMINANT / MEXICANO
LANGUAGE
AT CONTACT
THE PROTOHISTORIC TARASCAN TERRITORY

Fig. 7.2 Sixteenth-century ethnic I linguistic boundaries. Based on Brand 1943.

the primary extent of Tarascan religion and ideology. migrated into the region during the Postclassic (AD 1000
The population within this zone, especially the elite, and later) (Relacion de Michoacan [1541] 1956; Relaciones
participated in a unitary social system dating to the geogrdficas [1579-81] 1987; Brand 1943; Beltran 1982;
political incorporation of central Michoacan (1350- Gorenstein and Pollard 1983). Each group was identified
1440) and the emergence of Tarascan identity (Goren- by the worship of specific deities, the performance of
stein and Pollary 1983). The geographical extent of this specific rituals, and the wearing of specific status markers
zone is largely co-terminous with the region within (Relacion de Michoacan [1541] 1956). The political unifi-
which Tarascan remained the dominant language as late cation of this zone was accompanied by the emergence of
as 1750 (West 1948; Fig. 7.4). Tarascan ethnicity, marked by the universal use of the
Within this heartland zone there are known to have Tarascan language and the incorporation of all pre-
been several cultural/linguistic groups in the period viously autonomous, culturally distinct groups. Political
before the emergence of the Tarascan state (Relacion de incorporation, and the ideology of power that accom-
Michoacan [1541] 1956). These groups were politically panied it, are seen as primary in creating the homo-
autonomous, and most were socially differentiated. geneous Tarascan zone that is documented in the six-
Within the Lake Patzcuaro Basin alone there were at teenth century. This rapid assimilation in the Patzcuaro
least four such groups, including proto-Tarascan Basin from AD 1250 to 1400, and in the surrounding high-
speakers, local Nahua speakers, and two separate lands from AD 1350 to 1440, was probably made possible
groups of "Chichimecs" who had, at different times, by at least two factors: (1) the bulk of the heartland
 82 Helen Perlstein Pollard
g. 7.5. Protohistoric Tarascan market and tribute regions.
was probably of "proto-Tarascan" culture, and (2) the
groups in question were not politically unified with a his-
torical pattern of multi-ethnic complex society (Fig. 7.5)
Zone of active assimilation
This zone, absorbed into the expanding state only after
1440 (Pollard 1993), was increasingly basic to the main-
tenance of Tarascan elite society. While populations
were relatively low in density and widely dispersed
(Warren 1968; Gonzalez Crespo 1979), many resources
basic to elite identification came from this zone, includ-
ing tropical fruit, cacao, cotton, copal, jaguar skins,
tropical feathers, gold, silver, copper, and tin (Pollard
1982; Gorenstein and Pollard 1983; Pollard 1987). In this
region local populations began assimilating to Tarascan
identity only after their conquest by heartland Taras-
cans. Tarascan had become the dominant language at
the time of Spanish contact (Minas de Cobre [1553] in
Warren 1968; Relaciones Geograficas [1579-81] 1987;
Ponce [1586] 1968; Brand 1943:51-2). The region repre-
sented an entrance of Tarascan identity into funda-
mentally different resource zones, dominated by tem-
perate and tropical ecosystems. The degree of
assimilation by 1520 clearly varied, and, as Brand found
in the northern Tarascan zone, Tarascan ethnicity could
vanish within decades of European control.
Combining the data from the Guzman relaciones and
other sixteenth century sources, it would appear that
the Tarascans had managed through conquest, colo-
nization, and acculturation to impose their language
over a presumptive Teco area from Jacona-Zamora
down the valley of the Duero and into the Teco state
of Coinan and the Coca state of Cuitzeo. During the
first half of the sixteenth century Cuitzeo was pre-
dominantly Tarascan in speech, and Tarascan was
 Ethnicity in the Tarascan state 83

c
-I
"\-/ 92 c
87 85
\ Rio f '28
^^^~-
Loke Chapolo 60
47 - ,

'06
107 ^"86 6|
32 y
^ ^
88
!
62 pp."

^563'"- 34 *\Z

12 iqs Y"'.?! 23
114 - ,7 i w 5

f/ J
/
*
"5 113 ...- iffif: 87
1
.
tIT"*
JO 7e 55
^
S .1 "

) , T - ^ *

32 J > -

1
III 103 J 4J ^
42

/
105* 104/ 9

\
^X_ 16
v y
110
/
<
. \
\

7
V
TARASCAN DOMINANT

TARASCAN EXCLUSIVE ) ^
J
PACIFIC J S
OCAN
i
50 KM.

/g. 7. Eighteenth-century Tarascan language distribution. Based upon West 1948.

spoken to a considerable extent in Coinan. However,
in the next one hundred years Coca and Teco reasser-
ted themselves only to be supplanted by Spanish and
Mexicano. (Brans 1943:57)
Zone of ethnic segregation
The zone includes both ethnic enclaves located within
the zone of assimilation and those large territories along
the military frontiers within which were a variety of
ethnic groups. It is possible that there may have been
ethnically distinct populations within the heartland
which held specialized occupational roles. This kind of
segregation was known in other parts of Mesoamerica,
although the documentary sources do not specify this for
the Tarascan domain.
Rather, ethnic enclaves within the zone of assimilation
occupied distinct communities, primarily as political
refugees. One group of such communities was occupied
by Matlatzincas escaping Aztec domination of the
Toluca Basin. They were settled in the Charo-Undameo
zone and were referred to as pirindas (Relacion de
Michoacdn [1541] 1956; Relaciones Geograficas [1579-81]
1987). This is a Tarascan term meaning "those in the
middle," and referring to the physical placing of these
settlements within the Tarascan heartland. These com-
munities may have been established on patrimonial land
belonging to the king or on land that was previously
unsettled (as per AGN Hospital de Jesus, 1635, leg. 29,
vol. 51, exp. 34 f. 55). According to Matlatzinca sources,
thefleeinggroups included members of the Matlatzinca
84 Helen Perlstein Pollard

115

PAC/F/C
: #

OCEAN

Fig. 7.5 Tarascan ethnic!political structure.

nobility (settle at Charo), others of the lower nobility Along the military frontiers ethnic enclaves often pro-
(settled at Undameo) and commoners (Quezada vided their tribute in the form of specialized military
Ramirez 1972:51). Matlatzinca communities were also service (Relacion de Michoacdn [1541] 1956:14, 248;
established in the tropical zone at Huetamo (Relaciones Relaciones Geogrdficas [1579-81] 1987; Brand 1943:54;
Geogrdficas Cuseo [1579-81] 1987) and other Otomi Carrasco 1969:219). Many of the frontier centers and
groups fleeing Aztec rule were settled in the Balsas fortified towns were multi-ethnic, and non-Tarascan in
zone, perhaps near Huetamo (Relaciones Geogrdficas origin, including as many as four different ethnic groups
Necotlan and Taimeo [1579-81] 1987). in addition to small Tarascan communities sent to
Documentary sources suggest that in the case of colonize the center. Taximaroa is first referred to as an
Matlatzinca in the Charo-Undameo zone, the communi- Otomi village (Relacion de Michoacdn [1541] 1956:154),
ties were administered as a group, and headed by Charo and Tuzantla is known to have been Ocumo in Tarascan
(Quezada Ramiez 1972:43; Warren 1985:283-5). As the (ucumu), which means Otomi (Warren, pers. comm.
location of the highest ranked Matlatzinca nobility, the 1989, based upon the sixteenth-century Tulane diction-
choice of Charo as administrative center implies little ary, pt. II, f. 126v). These communities were admin-
Tarascan "meddling" within the Matlatzinca society, and istered separately by ethnic group. Thus the Tarascan
a retention of Matlatzinca defined status and authority. governor sent out to Acambaro was in charge of the
 Ethnicity in the Tarascan state 85

Tarascan community only (Relaciones Geogrdficas political authority. Despite the existence of regional
Celaya [1579-81] 1987). Local lords of each ethnic group administrative centers, the Relation de Michoacdn indi-
were selected, with the approval of the Tarascan king, to cates that local leaders in the zone of assimilation were
administer their own communities. When they fought in directly appointed by the king, as in the heartland. Direct
Tarascan military campaigns they remained within their control of local decision making is corroborated in
own military units, although serving under Tarascan several colonial testimonies, as in the sending of a judge
leaders. These non-Tarascan ethnic groups spanned the by the king to settle disputes within the community of
political borders of the state. They were able to serve as Tetlaman, near Tepalcatepec (Carrasco 1969:219: see
buffers along active military lines and as cultural brokers also Warren 1968, Relaciones Geogrdficas [1579-81]
between Tarascan and non-Tarascan communities. 1987). This direct penetration of local authority in
regions far from the Patzcuaro Basin is understandable
as both (1) the extension of a pattern historically success-
Political implications ful in the political core and adopted during the formative
Within the heartland local leaders articulated with the phase of Tarascan political unification, and (2) the
central administration directly (Caravajal Visitation primary mechanism of cultural assimilation. Local elites
[1523^] in Warren 1985:Appendix A; Relation de gained prestige and power by identifying with the Taras-
Michoacdn [1541] 1956; Gilberti [1559] 1975; Lagunas can social structure. Local village leaders, angamecha in
[1574] 1983). This region appears to have been under the Tarascan (caciques or senores in colonial documents),
direct control of the political capital. All local leaders were people who wore lip plugs given them by the king
were approved by the Tzintzuntzan elite, and they could (Lagunas [1574] 1983:22, 221), and who were thus ele-
be replaced, and their decisions over-ruled by the king. vated to noble status. By controlling access to local
Their loyalty was assumed, and intervention in local political offices the core elite also controlled the local
affairs was considered unusual {Relation de Michoacdn elite's access to power and prestige, now definable on
[1541] 1956:201-2). Such loyalty to the Tarascan royal Tarascan terms.
dynasty was repeatedly demonstrated during the early This flow of authority from the center to the village
colonial period (Warren 1985). was suppprted by the fundamental system of land and
Within the second zone, that of active assimilation, the resource ownership. All land titles within the Tarascan
loyalty of these peoples to the core elite would have been domain were justified by having come from the king.
best assured by a policy of gradual assimilation into the This even included agricultural lands, fishing rights,
Tarascan social system and Tarascan ethnic identity. mineral resources and hunting territories (Beltran 1982;
One mechanism of assimilation may have been the Carrasco 1986; Pollard 1987). By extending the Tarascan
administrative centers of the frontier provinces. There political ideology throughout this zone, non-Tarascan-
were four such centers, each administered by a high- based access to resources and social status became
ranking member of the Tarascan elite. They served as illegitimate and over time would have become irrelevant.
political centers for those settlements outside the direct A third policy fostering assimilation was the resettle-
administrative control of Tzintzuntzan. The exact ment of Tarascans from the heartland into this zone.
location of only one is known, Jacona (also spelled as Such resettlements are known to have occurred from
Xacona) {Relation de Michoacdn [1541] 1956:195), Jacona to Jiquilpan, to Turecuato, and to Periban {Rela-
although I have placed on the map the settlements most ciones Geogrdficas [1579-81] 1987, Stanislawski 1947).
often believed to have been the other three administra- Smaller resettlements are known to have been made
tive centers. The precise location of the centers is less within the heartland and along the military borders,
significant than the indication that all were located at the apparently to enlarge local populations in the face of
limits of the ethnic heartland, on the earlier political active military threat (Stanislawski 1947).
frontier, and helped administer the zone of active Taras- Given the economic and political bases for the
can assimilation. The local presence of central Tarascan pressures of assimilation within this zone, there must
administration must have fostered cultural interchange, have been great variability in the rate of cultural/linguis-
and perhaps also, cultural assimilation. If these adminis- tic assimilation. Zones of particular economic or poli-
trative centers were also locations of markets, such inter- tical interest to the core would have had the greatest
action would have been still greater. interaction with Tarascans, and may have been targeted
A second mechanism of cultural assimilation in this for absorption. Thus, portions of the zone of assimila-
zone was the extension of the basic pattern of centralized tion near Jacona in the west, and Zinapecuaro in the
 86 Helen Perlstein Pollard

east, two strategic military borders, had become heart- beliefs should be visible in design motifs, ceremonial
land regions by 1520. Within the zone of active assimila- architecture and individual artifacts. On the basis of the
tion, the retention of Tarascan as the primary native archaeological manifestations of elite culture at the Tar-
language in the southeastern portion of Michoacan in ascan capital of Tzintzuntzan, and those mentioned or
1750 attests to the relatively high degree of assimilation illustrated in the Relation de Michoacan, it is possible to
reached in this important metal-producing region specify the following items: (1) ear and lip plugs
(Pollard 1987). (especially of green obsidian, often inlayed with tur-
Within the zone of ethnic segregation, along the mili- quoise or other imported material); (2) cotton garments
tary borders, loyalty to the Tarascan elite was assured in (especially those embroidered with feathers, and with
exchange for the security provided by the state military copper bells); (3) Tarascan polychrome pottery (often
structure. Administrators were sent from the political with negative painting) in a variety of unusual forms
core to articulate with the local population and insure (spouted vessels, loop- and basket-handled vessels,
this loyalty. Nevertheless the populations were regarded miniature bowls, highly polished plates) with painted
as subject allies, rather than subjects, and tribute motifs of double spirals, hatching, checkerboards, lines
included war captives and slaves (Relaciones Geogrdficas of dots and bands on vessels slipped in red, cream, white,
[1579-81] 1987). The inclusion of zones of segregation grey, and pink; (4) Tarascan ceramic pipe forms; and (5)
within the state was highly desirable; the risk to the state state architecture associated with the Tarascan patron
of losing their ultimate loyalty was balanced by the deity Curicaueri, better known as the key-hole-shaped
benefits to the state of using these populations for mili- pyramids or ydcatas. These characteristics are documen-
tary support, sacrificial victims, and economic brokers ted together in the forty-one burials which have been
with neighboring societies. Carlos Herrejon Peredo excavated adjacent to the ydcatas at Tzintzuntzan and in
(1978) has detailed the valuable role played by Matla- surveys of Tzintzuntzan, Ihuatzio, Zacapu, and other
tzinca and Otomi communities, both along the eastern ethnohistorically known Tarascan centers (Rubin de la
border and at enclaves at Charo-Undameo, in the Tara- Borbolla 1939, 1941; Moedano 1941; Gali 1946; Pollard
scan repulsion of the 1476-7 Aztec military campaign. 1977; Castro-Leal 1986; Cabrera Castro 1987; Macias
Such support brought harsh Aztec reprisals in the Goytia and Cuevas Garcia 1988). Other archaeologically
Toluca valley itself, and resulted in additional refugees detectable characteristics may well prove valuable in the
fleeing to Tarascan territory. future. For example, the Relation de Michoacan depicts
With the demise of the autonomous Tarascan clearly different house forms for the elite, larger, with
kingdom in the early sixteenth century, these poorly dressed stone foundations and painted wooden sup-
articulated zones separated. The rather "thin veneer" of ports. The single residence excavated at Tzintzuntzan
Tarascan identity in the zone of active assimilation was (and not adjacent to the pyramids) may represent such a
easily eroded as historical and ecological differences house (Cabrera Castro 1987). On a wider level the
took precedence. The cohesive unit remained the funda- common ecological adaptation of these communities
mental cultural and economic unit, the ethnic heartland. and the shared economic networks should be reflected in
common sources for localized resources, such as obsi-
dian, lime, and salt. On the other hand, the wide distri-
Archaeological implications bution of ceramic clays and the lack of (known) mass
Tarascan archaeology has been dominated by the often production of plainwares and non-elite ceramics indi-
fruitless search for a cultural identity synonymous with cates that while manufacturing techniques were widely
the protohistoric state, as revealed by artifacts and struc- shared, specific ceramic types were not.
tures. The model of ethnicity proposed here predicts that Within the zone of active Tarascan assimilation, the
there will be no commonality of artifacts and architec- overriding factor is variation. At Huandacareo, a
ture over the territory of the Tarascan state, both regional administrative center on the northern shore of
because material culture often varies in ways unrelated Lake Cuitzeo, founded after the Tarascan conquest of
to political control, and because different communities this zone, burial areas suggest the nature of interaction
and regions articulated with the state in greatly differing between Tarascan elite, local elite, and local commoners
ways. (Macias Goytia 1989). Within the public center there are
The Tarascan heartland should be characterized by a elite burials in formal tombs with grave goods, especially
common elite culture, represented by similar artifacts ceramics, that are identical to elite goods from Tzin-
and architecture defining elite status. Common religious tzuntzan. There is a second zone of mass burials of

sacrificial victims with Tarascan ritual goods. A last zone
of shallow pit graves with predominantly local undeco-
rated ceramics is believed by the excavator, Macias
Goytia, to represent local non-Tarascans buried separ-
ately, but within the state-administered ceremonial
center. While it is impossible to tell if the elite burials
represent core Tarascans staffing the center or local elite
assimilating to Tarascan ethnicity, the absence of a dis-
tinct burial zone for non-Tarascan elite suggests the
latter.
The existence of Tarascan elite polychrome ceramics
has been documented at numerous settlements
throughout this zone, sometimes associated with burials
of individuals with ear and lip plugs adjacent to possible
ydcatas (Noguera 1944; Moedano 1946; Gonzalez
Crespo 1979; Maldonado 1980). Similarly there may
have been a sharing of religious symbols, although these
may simply be on the level of pan-Mesoamerican phil-
osophy and beliefs. The ecological adaptations within
this zone, being distinct from those of the heartland,
suggest that basic differences in artifact inventory, settle-
ment patterns, and economic patterns may have per-
sisted despite ethnic/linguistic assimilation. Only the
increasing integration within Tarascan marketing net-
works may reveal the assimilation process, unless the
region was targeted for Tarascan exploitation. Thus,
within the zone of copper production, groups of ethnic
Tarascans were moved south to work in the mines of the
Balsas, and smelters were sent to the major smelting
centers (Pollard 1987). Here should be found clear evi-
dence of ethnic Tarascan artifacts, architecture, and
technology (especially that directly related to mining and
smelting). The critical factor in this zone is the lack of
significant time depth to the Tarascan association.
However, the absence of outside administrators or a
local elite within a community may mean the absence of
any indications of elite culture and architecture, most
easily recognizable indications of the protohistoric Tara-
scans. Thus even the political changes associated with
Tarascan expansion will probably be difficult to discern
in material culture.
Within the zones of ethnic segregation, the archae-
ologist fares both better and worse. Here local or
regional traditions would have persisted. This persist-
ence has been archaeologically documented along the
northeastern border in the form of continuity of ceramic
types and house forms (particularly storage bins), and
ceremonial architecture (Gorenstein 1985; Contreras
Ramirez 1987). It is often difficult to discern when the
zone of segregation has ended and the political border
has been breached. On the positive side, there may be
Ethnicity in the Tarascan state 87
non-local, heartland Tarascan artifacts and architecture
associated with small numbers of elite stationed along
the frontier. The presence of military fortifications in this
zone is the best artifactual evidence of this ethnically
diverse zone (Gorenstein 1985), as it was a policy to
associate military frontiers with non-Tarascans. The
lack of articulation of this zone with Tarascan local
marketing networks, and the dominance of pre-existing
networks may well mean that goods circulating within
this zone in fact derive from sources not utilized in the
rest of the territory.
One of the ethnic enclaves located within the Tarascan
core has been isolated solely through archaeological
analysis. At the Tarascan capital, Tzintzuntzan, one
locality of the city contained relatively large quantities of
a clearly non-local ceramic ware. Research along the
northeast border indicated this ware was the dominant
form there during the protohistoric, probably of an
Otomi-speaking group (Pollard 1977; Gorenstein 1985).
The presence of this border population in the Tarascan
capital suggests that future archaeological research will
reveal a more complex pattern of ethnic relations than
that suggested by this model.
Ethnicity and the expanding state
The model of ethnic structure which has been proposed
was the outcome of the twin Tarascan policies of ethnic
assimilation and segregation. Within the central region,
the protohistoric period population was characterized
by a social system with a fully Tarascan identity. Along
the frontiers, the state encompassed a multitude of dis-
tinct ethnic groups, with varying loyalty to the ruling
dynasty. Between these two zones was a large territory in
the process of becoming Tarascan. Its existence reflects
the dynamic nature of the protohistoric period in
western Mexico, and the rapid rate of cultural change.
As a result, the borders of these zones can only be
approximated, as they must have changed repeatedly.
This ethnic strategy differed from that of the Tara-
scans' contemporary neighbors, the Aztecs, among
whom ethnic diversity was woven into the basic
economic and political fabric of society (Carrasco
1971b; Zantwijk 1973; Hassig 1984). Robert McC.
Adams (1979:64) has suggested that an important reason
for the absence of policies of cultural assimilation may
have been the overwhelming demographic dominance of
the core population over its peripheries. There is no
Mexica ethnic heartland, but a zone of culturally similar
populations sharing the Basin of Mexico, often sharing
individual communities, for their mutual (if not equal)
 Helen Perlstein Pollard
benefit. Traditional ethnic markers included language,
dress and adornment, marriage patterns, deities and
ritual, and even occupational specializations. Here
ethnic boundaries were maintained, even cultivated, by
the Mexica elite, although the markers and significance
of the boundaries surely changed as Mexica power
increased. Beyond the political core of the state, Mexica
policy was largely one of indifference to ethnic distinc-
tion, with the result that conquered communities,
regions, and states retained previous ethnic boundaries
unaffected by Mexica administrative units or economic
networks. In such circumstances the possibility of rebel-
lion was countered by the ability of the core elite to field
large armies of internal re-conquest. In the Tarascan
case such demographic disparities were clearly influen-
tial in the early conquest of the Balsas and Tepalcatepec
Basins. But the Cuitzeo Basin population, for example,
could have easily raised armies to challenge Tzin-
tzuntzan-based control effectively, had the region ever
been politically united. Moreover the Aztec threat on the
eastern Tarascan border, along with a militarily active
western and northern border, spread heartland Tarascan
warriors across a wide landscape, and limited their
ability to field large armies within their territory at the
same time.
While Tarascan ethnic strategy may have been dis-
tinctive in sixteenth-century Mesoamerica, it exhibits
many characteristics common in the structure of eth-
nicity of complex societies. The policy of assimilation,
and its implementation by control over positions of
power and prestige, is a fundamental component of the
military strategies of many expanding states, including
the Inka (Morris 1982; Rowe 1982; Wachtel 1982), the
Roman (Salmon 1982), and the Assyrian (Larsen 1979),
among others. One of the best-documented cases is that
of the Romanization of central Italy (Salmon 1982). The
spread of Roman ethnicity took more than 300 years to
be achieved in central Italy, and was a product of specific
policies of the expanding Roman state. A consistent
feature of this process was the direct administration of
peoples by Roman law and the severing of communities
from their ethnic homelands.
The high degree of political centralization found in
such polities may be reinforced by an elite perception of
the role of ethnicity as an integrating mechanism. In
those cases, like the Tarascan, where the early expansion
of the state involved the incorporation of societies less
politically complex than itself, direct rule from the
center was established. It is quite possible that cultural
assimilation was at first an unintended consequence of
centralized administration, only later recognized for the
benefits it provided the state. By promoting assimilation
in the larger Tarascan territory, the elite of the geo-
political core could better insure the economic exploita-
tion of this zone, uninterrupted by rebellions and retalia-
tory campaigns. This exploitation was increasingly
necessary to feed the growing population of the Patz-
cuaro Basin and maintain the conspicuous consumption
of the state (Pollard 1982, 1987). From this perspective,
the ethnic strategy, whether or not recognized by the
central dynasty as such, was an adaptive mechanism,
increasing the stability of the Lake Patzcuaro Basin
ecosystem.
Ethnic segregation along military borders is also
common, particularly the use of such populations in a
military capacity. Enloe (1980:25-9) has termed this the
"Ghurka Syndrome," characterized by the mainten-
ance of ethnic boundaries in regions which are usually
mountainous, along historic invasion routes, and geo-
graphically distinct. In the Tarascan case such groups
served not only military functions, but also, I believe,
economic ones as well. Tarascan long-distance mer-
chants traveled to the borders of the state, including
Taximaroa, to acquire elite-related scarce materials
produced in other regions of Mesoamerica (Pollard
1982). Some of these exchanges may have been directly
with Aztec merchants, but many were surely with
Otomi or Matlatzinca traders operating within their
traditional territory, now spanning a major political
frontier. The existence of such trade is suggested by the
appearance of Michoacan maize and chili in the Tlate-
lolco market, as recorded by Sahagun [1569] 1950-69,
(Bk. 10, pp. 66-7).
One pattern of expanding complex societies involves
rapid territorial increase followed by periods of consoli-
dation and absorption of the conquered territory. The
political unit soon after conquest is multi-ethnic and
heterogeneous and is often termed an empire (Larsen
1979). The assimilation that follows expands the center,
absorbing increasing proportions of the periphery, until
the resultant polity is best viewed as a territorial state.
This appears to be the pattern followed in the evolution
of the Tarascan state. In AD 1520 the Tarascan state was
actively in the process of this internal assimilation,
reflecting the strong geopolitical and economic moti-
vations of expansion and the high degree of
centralization of administrative functions which made
such an ethnic strategy both desirable and practicable.
Modern Tarascans who cling to their ethnic heritage,
albeit in greatly modified form, are only the latest of a
people who have long recognized the political con-
sequences of ethnicity within complex societies.

8 nically heterogeneous populations. Rudolf van Zantwijk
Ethnic groups and political
development in ancient
Mexico
ELIZABETH M. BRUMFIEL
Ethnicity can be defined as social identification based
upon the presumption of shared history and common
cultural inheritance. Such identities play a prominent
role in political struggle in the modern world. Whether
the object of struggle is securing resources in com-
petition with other ethnic groups or resisting the domi-
nance of an encroaching state, ethnic identity provides a
powerful ideology for political mobilization. The ethnic
groups engaged in these struggles often cut across class
lines, containing both elites who provide group leader-
ship and a mass of members drawn from lower classes.
Thus, in the modern world, ethnicity is frequently bound
up with factional competition and political change.
Did ethnicity play an important role in political
struggle before the emergence of the modern world?
Early approaches to ethnicity suggested that it did not.
From the mid-1930s to the mid-1960s, ethnic groups
were regarded as primordial human groups, arising from
cultural isolation and persisting by habit and custom.
Competition between ethnic groups was regarded as a
recent phenomenon, created during the process of
modernization as diverse tribal groups were brought
together in overarching states. Some observers expected
ethnic conflict within these "plural societies" to be a
temporary phenomenon; conflict was expected to dis-
appear in the course of modernization as national
institutions matured (e.g., Apter 1967). Others, more
pessimistic, pointed to forces that would perpetuate
ethnic identity and conflict: either the deep-seated,
enduring character of ethnic loyalties (Geertz 1963) or
the determination of colonial and neocolonial elites to
maintain ethnic stratification systems (Furnivall 1939).
But few suggested that ancient states, like modern ones,
might sometimes have faced the task of integrating eth-
(1973) was one of the exceptions. In a remarkable paper
dealing with the late prehispanic political organization
of central Mexico, he proposed not only that multi-
ethnic states had been forged in the ancient world, but
that some, like the Aztecs, had been highly successful.
A second major approach to ethnicity dates from
Barth's (1969) landmark study of ethnic groups and
boundaries. Barth suggested that ethnic identity was
situationally defined, a strategem developed in response
to resource competition. Ethnic identity provided a
means of claiming rights and defining obligations for
individuals as members of competing social groups.
Thus, ethnic identity and ethnic conflict might arise in
many situations of resource competition prior to the
modern world, or even prior to the existence of states.
This position is exemplified by Hodder's (1982) discus-
sion of ethnicity in Baringo (Kenya). Hodder indicates
that while colonial policies may have created the con-
ditions of resource competition and ethnic identity
observed during the course of study, similar conditions
probably existed in the premodern world. Thus, resource
competition and ethnic identity should be considered as
forces that shaped the prehistoric world.
Both the earlier view that ethnic groups were a
product of tribal isolation and the subsequent view that
ethnic groups were a product of resource competition
were challenged by Fried's (1975) study of tribal organi-
zation. Fried suggested that prior to the formation of
states group loyalties rarely extended beyond the local
village. Political solidarity across entire regions based on
appeals to shared ethnicity was a secondary response to
state expansion. Fried's suggestion is in line with recent
Marxist analyses which emphasize the importance of the
state in shaping ethnic identity.
Marxist anthropologists point out that, in the modern
world, ethnic identity and conflict develop as products of
state control. National identities are elaborated by elites
to forestall the emergence of a revolutionary class
consciousness (Marx 1977:591) or to define conceptions
of civic virtue that legitimate submission to the state
(Williams 1989). Ethnic "minorities" may emerge as the
state deliberately fosters ethnic distinctiveness to under-
mine class solidarity or as populations cohere to resist
exploitation. Patterson (1987) argues that ancient states
were as likely as modern states to create the conditions
that foster heightened ethnic identity and conflict. He
also points out that states act opportunistically and
inconsistently, suppressing ethnic identity in some
groups to weaken their resistance while promoting
89
 90 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

ethnic identity in others to obscure class structures
(Patterson 1987:122).
Ethnicity is a central motif in the native histories of
highland central Mexico. The histories are filled with
accounts of the wanderings of ethnic groups, their
arrival in central Mexico, their settlement in towns and
cities, and the continuous conflicts and short-lived alli-
ances among them. This paper explores the nature of
ethnic groups in pre-Aztec Mexico and the role that they
played in political development. Why did ethnicity serve
as the basis for group formation in pre-Aztec times
rather than kinship or a system of open political patron-
age? How did ethnicity develop under Aztec state
control? What is the evidence for ethnic groups in the
archaeological record, and what can archaeology add to
our understanding of the role of ethnic groups in
Mexican political development?
These questions are discussed with special reference to
Xaltocan, a Postclassic community in the northern
The Valley of Mexico
Valley of Mexico (Fig. 8.1). According to ethnohisto-
ric sources, Xaltocan was an important regional center
in pre-Aztec Mexico, and it was the capital of the
Otomi people, an ethnic group that has retained a
separate language and cultural identity up to the
present day (Carrasco 1950). Recent archaeological
investigations at Xaltocan and an unusually rich
ethnohistorical record of the town's early history make
it possible to begin to provide answers to the questions
posed above.
These data suggest that ethnicity provided no endur-
ing basis for factional competition. The factions that
formed in pre-Aztec times were composite, multi-ethnic
coalitions. Later, the Aztec state was able to accommo-
date ethnic diversity within its borders without undue
strain. And yet, ethnicity was an important concept in
Mexican political ideology. It was pressed into service to
promote a variety of economic and political goals. The
kind of grouping described as ethnic and the meaning
attached to that identity varied according to the ideo-
logical function served. Both ethnohistory and archae-
ology present similar pictures of ethnicity as a changing,
manipulated concept.

Ethnicity, history and the pre-Aztec political economy

Zumpango Almost all the native histories begin with accounts of
Lake Zumpai
how the land was settled. In these accounts, groups of
Otumba
migrants, each under a noble ruler or a chief, after years
Lake Xaltocan * Teotihuacan of wandering and many adventures, lay claim to par-
ticular territories. The claims are validated through sac-
Cuauhtitlan * rifice to the group's patron deity or they are confirmed
by a political overlord.
For example, according to Alva Ixtlilxochitl's
(1975-7:1, 423, II, 299) account, the settlement of Xal-
Azcapolzalco ^ a p 4 = ^ -
tocan began with the arrival in the Valley of Mexico of
Tlacopan *
three groups, the Tepanec, Otomi, and Aculhua
"nations," each led by a noble lord. Finding that the
Coyoacan J ^ valley had already been claimed by Xolotl, the ruler of
^Culhuacan the town of Tenayuca, the lords decided to offer him
Lake Xochimilco the vassalage of themselves and their followers (Fig.
8.2). Xolotl gladly accepted their service. He assigned
them lands, and he arranged a suitable marriage for
each of the three noble lords. The leader of the
Tepaneca was given the city of Azcapotzalco and sur-
Tenango Amaquemecan
0 5 10 Km rounding lands in the western Valley of Mexico. As a
wife, he received Xolotl's older daughter. The leader of
the Otomi was assigned Xaltocan and lands in the
Fig. 8.1 The Valley of Mexico during the Late northern valley. He married Xolotl's younger daughter.
Postclassic, showing the location of Xaltocan and other The leader of the Aculhua, received the city of Coatli-
major settlements. chan and lands in the eastern valley. He was wed to a

Fig. 8.2 Chiconcuauh, leader of the Otomis and first ruler of Xaltocan
(central figure, right), receives land from Xolotl (left), based on the Codex
Xolotl.
noblewoman of Toltec ancestry, the daughter of the ruler
of Chalco Atenco.
Similar histories existed for many, if not all, political
units in late prehispanic Mexico: Tenochtitlan, Texcoco,
Cholula, Tlaxcala, etc. (Carrasco 1971:366). All the
native histories share certain dominant themes: (1) elites
and commoners bound together in ethnic groups, (2) in
violent or negotiated competition with other ethnic
groups, (3) lay claim to the land. Such accounts may or
may not be historically true; their real importance was to
serve as social charters (Price 1980).
The histories established the relationships of land,
labor, and tribute that defined the central Mexican poli-
tical economy (Reyes Garcia 1977, Carrasco 1978). The
histories recorded how noble leaders first laid claim to
the land and then divided it among their noble allies and
subject commoners as they saw fit. In dividing the land, a
leader established his right to collect tribute and claim
political support, and he affirmed the exclusive and
enduring rights of certain groups of commoners to
certain pieces of land. Thus, recorded history com-
plemented carefully preserved maps of land holdings
(Zorita 1963:110) to define commoners' access to the
land.
Ethnicity established an individual's right to partici-
pate in these historically grounded relationships. The
allocations of land, labor, and tribute recorded in the
historic narratives were claimed by those who con-
sidered themselves the social heirs of the original actors.
Ethnicity was thus a statement of the ongoing rights and
obligations of nobles and commoners, rooted in his-
torical and therefore unalterable events. Like the history
to which it alluded, ethnicity was "a political myth,
establishing land claims and political legitimacy" (Price
1980:176).
Political development in ancient Mexico 91
Ethnicity and group formation
Ethnicity provides one set of principles for organizing
the political economy by dividing people into groups,
legitimating their access to resources, and establishing
hierarchial relationships among them. But there are
other means of accomplishing these tasks. Kinship
systems can serve equally well to order people and their
relations to things. A political economy can also be
based upon ahistorical, negotiated transactions: the
buying and selling of goods and services in a market
economy or the exchange of favors in a system of open
political patronage. Given these alternatives, we can ask
why ethnicity played such an important role in organiz-
ing the Mexican political economy, and what impli-
cations this particular ideology had for the organization
of political competition.
In late prehispanic Mexico, two different corporate
groups, the calpulli and the teccalli, found a basis in
shared ethnicity. The calpulli was a corporate, landhold-
ing group of commoners having economic, political, and
ceremonial functions (Carrasco 1971:363, Zantwijk
1985:24-6). Granted agricultural land by an overlord,
the calpulli distributed it to its members. Calpulli
members were jointly responsible for paying tribute, and
they served as a unit in public labor projects and military
campaigns. Each calpulli had a young men's house
(telpochcalli) for the education of its youth, and each
maintained a shrine for its patron deity (Carrasco 1971:
364-5). Calpulli groups had names, and calpulli members
co-resided in rural hamlets and in urban wards, parts of
larger cities and towns. A calpulli leader represented the
calpulli to the overlord and saw to the faithful execution
of the group's obligations to its lord. The leader might be
a calpulli member elected by the membership (Zorita
 92 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

1963:109-10) or a low-ranking noble appointed to office 1950-69 Bk. 6, Ch. 41, Offner 1983:255, Reyes Garcia
by the overlord (Hicks 1982:243), but in any case, the 1977:85).
calpulli involved the organization of commoners. Rulers had to be members of the royal lineage, but
The teccalli, in contrast, was an elite establishment from this group rulers were chosen by election which
(Carrasco 1976). A teccalli was created when a ruler might involve considerable politicking or even violence.
granted lands to a noble in exchange for a pledge of Disputes over succession sometimes led to assassination,
assistance and political support (but not tribute). These fission, or civil war (Brumfiel 1983:268; van Zantwijk,
lords with their lower-ranking noble kinsmen (pipiltin) this volume).
maintained palaces supported by attached, commoner The high level of competition within kingdoms was
labor (which might be organized in calpulli groups) and accompanied by a high level of competition between
agricultural lands. Teccalli leadership was limited to the kingdoms. The two were probably interrelated. The con-
descendants of previous leaders, but selection of the new quest of neighboring kingdoms provided rulers with the
head from among qualified candidates was by election. resources to deal more effectively with noble competitors
Voting was restricted to the teccalli's nobles (Carrasco within their own domains. Victorious rulers could gather
1976:23). more tribute to disburse to political allies and to placate
Both calpulli and teccalli groups kept histories of the potentially troublesome kinsmen.
events that brought them into being, and both could Intense elite competition in ancient Mexico opened
claim distinctive ethnic identities (see Chimalpahin the way for negotiated arrangements between ruler and
1965:63-77, 139-50 for the origins and ethnic identities ruled. A ruling paramount needed allies in warfare; thus,
of teccalli groups in Amecameca; Alva Ixtlilxochitl he welcomed immigrant lords with their followers and
1975-7:11, 32, 34 for the origins and ethnic identities of granted them teccalli lands (Chimalpahin 1965:133,
calpulli groups in Texcoco). The calpulli and teccalli 139^4, 150; Reyes Garcia 1977:108). A paramount also
groups entered into coalitions with paramount rulers to needed subsistence goods to maintain his royal estab-
constitute petty kingdoms. These composite, autono- lishment (numerous wives, children, servants, craftsmen,
mous kingdoms were the basic political units in pre- war leaders, priests, etc.); thus, he welcomed commoners
Aztec Mexico. who sought to settle in his domain and allotted them
As Zantwijk (1973) correctly points out, the petty calpulli lands (Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-7:11, 32, 34; Anales
kingdoms were multi-ethnic units. For example, de Cuauhtitlan 1945:29). It appears then that conditions
although Xaltocan was considered an Otomi commu- of intense competition within the ruling class favored the
nity, it contained many other peoples: Toltecs, Chi- recruitment of followers through negotiated transactions.
chimecs, Huixtocanos, Nonohualcanos, and Texcalpa- Why then were followers organized in historically
nos (Nazareo 1940:123). Relations among the calpulli based corporate teccalli and calpulli groups instead of
and teccali groups within a kingdom were often tense. individually negotiated patron-client relationships?
Such groups seem always to have been ready to usurp First, such groups offered more durable relations, and
the houses, lands, titles, and other resources of their both rulers and subjects benefited from this durability.
neighbors (Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1945:50-1, Reyes For elites, a reliable following was the best defense
Garcia 1977:79, 81, 89, Parsons et al. 1982:90-1, McCaf- against internal competition; it enhanced the elite's
ferty 1989). The need to defend corporate assets from attractiveness as a patron, ally, and client of other elites,
predatory neighbors may explain the exceptional dura- enabling him to form advantageous coalitions. For
bility of ethnic identity at the local level (Barrios 1952, commoners, reliable patronage guaranteed continuing
McCafferty 1989). access to the land, making it profitable to invest in
Petty kingdoms were ruled by paramounts (tlatoque) improved land and housing and the cultivation of slowly
who received tribute from the commoners and political maturing fruit trees and maguey plants. Second, both
support from the teccalli lords. The king in consul- rulers and subjects benefited from commoners negotia-
tation with his lords decided questions of war and peace ting as corporate groups rather than as individuals.
and dispensed justice. The king protected his lands and For rulers, commoners organized in corporate groups
people, and he maintained temples and a marketplace facilitated state administration; fewer "contracts" were
for the citizens of his domain. The king also mediated the negotiated and fewer units required monitoring. For
resource disputes that arose among his subject calpulli commoners, corporate organization probably meant a
and teccalli groups; this was an important responsibility stronger bargaining position in dealing with elites and in
(Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-7:11, 102, Sahagun [1569] defending their resources against other commoners.

These conditions might appear to favor the formation
of corporate kinship groups rather than ethnic groups.
Why then the latter and not the former? One possible
disadvantage of kinship ties between nobles and com-
moners is that they would have been too exclusive and
immutable, leaving too little room for negotiating by
either nobles or commoners. However, the cognatic
kinship systems of central Mexico were very open
systems that could accommodate a great deal of strate-
gizing and negotiation (Carrasco 1984; Zantwijk, this
volume). It is more likely that kinship did not provide
the ideological basis for corporate groups because
kinship with its claim to common ancestry was not
compatible with the ideology of class stratification. The
whole system of class stratification in central Mexico
rested upon the nobility's exclusive claim to land. To
claim qualitatively superior property rights, nobles
claimed to be qualitatively superior humans. They did so
by emphasizing their own innate physiological capacity
to govern (Lopez Austin 1988:1, 386-96). This idea
would not admit any claims to loyalty based on shared
kinship between a ruler and his people. Ethnicity, with
its claim to common history but not necessarily common
blood, allowed for enduring relationships between
nobles and corporate groups of commoners. In the case
of the teccalli, it even permitted the membership of
nobles and commoners in a single corporate group. But
it did so without endangering the relations of production
that sustained the class system.
Ethnic groups and factional conflict
Late prehispanic central Mexico featured a political situ-
ation characterized by clearly defined class divisions
between land-owning nobles and tribute-paying com-
moners accompanied by intense competition within the
ruling class. Factions formed around competing princes
within petty kingdoms, but they often extended beyond
the kingdom as rivals found allies in neighboring king-
doms. There was, however, no one-to-one correspon-
dence between ethnic groups and political factions.
First, ethnic groups were too small to constitute factions
by themselves. Factions, like kingdoms, were composite,
multi-ethnic entities. Second, ethnic ties did not auto-
matically translate into political support.
The rivals for positions of rule were often half-
siblings, the offspring of different wives of the same
ruling lord. As such, they were unlikely to claim different
ethnic identities. However, these siblings might draw
support from different teccalli and calpulli groups within
the kingdom and different royal kinsmen in other king-
Political development in ancient Mexico 93
doms based upon the ethnic affiliations of their mothers.
For example, in their struggle for the rule of Texcoco,
Nezahualcoyotl was supported by his mother's group,
the Mexica, while Yancuiltzin, his rival, was supported
by his mother's group, the Tepaneca (Alva Ixtlilxochitl
1975-7:11, 54, 64, 73). But since marriage alliances were
numerous and widely dispersed, allies could find justi-
fication for supporting many different candidates. For
example, the Mexica initially supported Yancuiltzin, the
Tepaneca candidate in Texcoco, aligning themselves
with the group of their own ruler's mother. Support for
Nezahualcoyotl, the Mexica ruler's daughter's son, fol-
lowed a change in the Mexica's own political ambitions
(see Carrasco 1984 on the optive character of Mexican
kinship and alliance). Thus, while calpulli and teccalli
groups probably behaved as units in factional disputes,
ethnicity did not automatically translate into political
factions, and it did not entail automatic political loyalty.
Zantwijk (1973) suggests another role for ethnicity in
maintaining the fragmented political conditions of pre-
Aztec Mexico. He suggests that persistent conflict
existed between parties with different ethnic policies.
The early Chichimec rulers of the Valley of Mexico,
Zantwijk argues, tried to impose Toltec culture upon
more recent, less acculturated Chichimec immigrants.
Conflict between the "Toltecized" Chichimecs who
favored assimilation and the traditional Chichimecs who
favored cultural pluralism raged unabated until the time
of Aztec state formation.
This certainly appears to have been a problem for
Quinatzin, a thirteenth-century ruler of Texcoco:
[Quinatzin] not only compelled the Chichimecs to
[cultivate fields], but also to populate and build cities
and settlements, removing them from their rustic and
undomesticated way of life, following the plan and
style of the Toltecs, for which reason many of the
Chichimecs rebelled and, finding sympathy and allies
among the four oldest of [Quinatzin's] five sons ...
and among other noblemen and important people,
rose up. And the first to commit this rebellion were
those living in Coyauhtlan who burned many fields
... (Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-7:11, 30)
But if this rebellion was sparked by an unpopular
ethnic policy, it also was a reaction to the political con-
ditions which "Toltecization" implied: the cultivation of
tribute fields for a regional overlord, the use of corvee to
build urban facilities, residence in nucleated settlements
to facilitate bureaucratic administration, etc. Tolteci-
zation was a cultural policy with political implications of
increased centralization and a heavier burden of tribute.
 94 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel
It was no accident that the effort to impose a more
centralized, more extractive rule upon teccalli and cal-
pulli groups and the effort to resist such rule took the
form of an argument over assimilation vs. cultural
pluralism. The separate ethnic histories of each teccalli
and calpulli group provided each group with a charter of
political autonomy: the right to cut a good deal locally
or move on. A ruler who extracted too much from his
lords and commoners might find them departing for
some other kingdom, adding a new chapter to their
ethnic odyssey. Worse yet, they might throw their
support to some contender for rule, even the incum-
bent's own sons in the case of Quinatzin. Thus, it
appears that the political importance of ethnicity in
pre-Aztec central Mexico was not that it served as the
basis for inherently divisive primordial loyalties, but
rather that it sustained and legitimated political auton-
omy among commoners which limited the intensity of
surplus extraction and intensified competition within the
elite stratum for control of the limited surplus.
Ethnic policies of the Aztec state
The Aztec state emerged from a period of intense poli-
tical violence. The disruption of elite alliance networks
and the broadened geographic control occasioned by
this violence made possible the creation of a powerful,
centralized state. The Aztecs moved quickly to consoli-
date their control through institutional reform. Their
policy toward ethnicity, the foundations of decentralized
political power, was complex and not entirely consistent.
It included the accommodation of groups with estab-
lished ethnic self-identity as well as the manipulation of
ethnic images to strengthen Aztec rule.
As Zantwikj (1985) describes in detail, the Aztecs
were remarkably tolerant of ethnic diversity at the level
of the calpulli and teccalli. They permitted the open
practice of religious ritual in honor of patron deities and
the free expression of ethnic identity in dress, house
form, and even language (at least there is no ethno-
historic record of the state limiting these forms of ethnic
expression). Within Tenochtitlan, calpulli groups some-
times shared in the spoils of war (Duran 1967:11, 83).
Given the importance of ethnicity in establishing claims
to land and tribute, the state could not really suppress
ethnicity without undermining the class system which it
hoped to exploit.
Official tolerance of ethnic diversity was joined to a
policy of covert cultural assimilation directed specifically
at provincial nobles. The king and nobles of subject
city-states were required to attend ritual events in the
Aztec capital Tenochtitlan, especially rituals relating to
the succession of Aztec rulers or sacrifices to the Aztec
patron diety, Huitzilopochtli (Duran 1967:11, 125, 173,
248, 250, 276, 295, 302, 316, 346, 393, 415, 483). The
kings and nobles of subject city-states were also required
to live in Tenochtitlan for part of each year (Cortes
1970:68). Finally, marriages were contracted between
hinterland elites and the Aztec nobility (Carrasco 1974).
The presence of Aztec princesses in hinterland palaces
must have been an effective method of assimilating elites
to an imperial Aztec culture.
Aztec policy, then, was a compromise between recog-
nizing ethnicity, the basis of the class system, and defus-
ing the possibility of ethnic resistance to imperial domi-
nance by co-opting and assimilating the hinterland
nobility. Without elites to mobilize the ethnic communi-
ties, their potential for political action remained untap-
ped (see Brass 1985:12).
Thus, part of Aztec policy was directed at managing
ethnic self-identity. However, the Aztecs also attempted
to use ethnic attribution to strengthen state rule.
Official state tolerance of ethnic diversity coexisted
with widespread, derogatory ethnic stereotypes. Cer-
tainly invidious distinctions were being made by Saha-
gun's Mexica informants who, for example, char-
acterized the Otomi as gaudy dressers, lazy,
improvident, shiftless, and untrained blockheads. Other
groups were also presented in unfavorable terms. The
Matlatzinca were great witches who blew evil upon their
victims. The Huasteca were drunkards. The Tlalhuica
were imprudent, unrefined, and cowardly (Sahagun
[1569] 1950-69, Bk. 10, Ch. 29). These ethnic stereotypes
may well have been actively promoted by the cultural
policies of the Aztec state. State-sponsored art and ritual
performances provided opportunities for the state to
define categorical distinctions between ethnic groups. It
seems likely that the ethnic images presented by the state
were important sources for the stereotypes enunciated
by Sahagun's informants.
For example, the Aztec image of the Otomi was com-
municated by the dress and behavior of the elite Aztec
soldiers admitted to the ranks of honorary "Otomi"
warriors (Fig. 8.3). Otomi warriors wore their hair in the
defined Otomi fashion (shaved in front, left long in
back). They wore special jewelry (white gastropod shell
necklaces and labrets formed like the broad leaf of a
water plant, see Sahagun [1569] 1950-69, Bk. 2, Ch. 27).
At the festival of Xocotl huezti, these "Otomi" warriors
danced publicly with captives they had taken in war
prior to offering them for sacrifice (Brown 1988:176).
While the manner of the dance is not recorded, this
 Political development in ancient Mexico 95

regions in the Valley of Mexico were sometimes referred

to collectively as the Xochimilca, Chalca, Tepaneca,
Acolhua, Culhua, Cuitlahuaca, Mixquica, and Mexica
(Fig. 8.4). Gibson (1964:22) believed that these were
enduring pre-state tribal groups which maintained their
distinctive identities from the settlement of the Valley of
Mexico in the eleventh and twelfth centuries until Euro-
pean contact. However, the distribution of references to
these groups in the ethnohistoric sources suggests
otherwise.
The names most frequently occur in two contexts.
First, they appear in the origin myths of the Mexica of
Tenochtitlan, recorded in sources such as the Anales de
Tlatelolco, the Codex Boturini, the Codice Aubin, and
Sahagun (see Smith 1984 for references and historio-

\ ^ The Valley of Mexico

/
/
^ ^ P * Zumpango
Lake ZumpangoJ^i j

H J ^ > Xaltocan Otumba

N
^ Lake Xaltocan * Teotihuacan
i

Cuauhtitlan ^ ^ ^ ^
* Tepexpan
7
Tepaneca M Hi
Acolhua
Tenayuca^El -= w
Azcapolzalco | j p | ^ J - a k e Texcoco ' Texcoco
* Huexotla
Tlacopan 9Wo' ^ * Coatlichan
f|$Tenochtfflan = ^

Fig. 8.3 An honorary "Otomi" warrior seizes a captive

Coyoacan ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
in war, based on the Codex Mendoza.
/ ^Culhuacan

i
Lake X o c h i m i l c o ^ ^ = w ^ l
provided a good opportunity for state commentary on /^Xochlmilco^^Cuitlahuac
the meaning of Otomi-ness. Such warriors were valued / Mixqull|.
Chalco
Chalco
for their capacity for violence, but they were not con-
/
/
/ \
\
sidered qualified to govern: "The rulership they
\Tenango q can
entrusted to no one who was a wicked but brave warrior, 0 5 10 Km Ama ueme

\
one furious in battle ... those who only come paying the \
\
tribute of death,... called quaquachictin, Otomi, tlaoton- Xochimilca \
\
Chalco

xintr (Sahagun [1569] 1950-69, Bk. 6, Ch. 20). The \

\
image of "Otomi" warriors as too brutal to hold poli- \
\
tical power was a commentary on the ethnic Otomi's \

capacity for self-government.

Finally, the Aztec state apparently constructed a new Fig. 8.4 "Tribal" areas of late prehispanic Mexico.
category of ethnic groups. The inhabitants of different Based on Gibson 1964:Map 2.
 96 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

graphic comments on these sources). But these groups cerns the character of the group as defined by outsiders.
are rarely mentioned in histories from outside the Both insiders and outsiders use material culture to com-
Mexica tradition such as the Anales de Cuauhtitlan municate their views.
(1945) and Chimalpahin's (1965) Relaciones 4-7. Individuals assert their ethnic membership by joining
Second, the names appear in Cronica X accounts of in group rituals or by displaying symbols of ethnic
Aztec rule where they are mentioned repeatedly as units identity, usually items of dress or personal adornment.
of military organization and corvee for public works Whether behavioral or material, ethnic group markers
(e.g. Alvarado Tezozomoc 1975:356, 363, 442, 560; also tend to be both unique to the ethnic group and a part of
see Gibson 1964:22). a set of contrasting ethnic markers, having paradigmatic
This distribution suggests that the identity of regional relationships with the markers of other ethnic groups
groups was not, as Gibson (1964:22) believed, a survival (Wobst 1977:229). Archaeologically, artifacts such as
of tribal affiliations through five centuries of inter-tribal jewelry, feasting vessels, food remains, house form, and
interaction. Rather, the distribution suggests that the tombs may have served as symbols of ethnic affiliation in
identity of regional groups was a product of Aztec rule. the prehsitoric and historic past (Hodder 1979:452:
Regional identity developed as neighboring towns Schuyler 1980: McGuire 1982; Auger et al 1987;
banded together to resist Aztec expansion and then were Shennan 1989). In Mesoamerica, distinctive forms of
mobilized as military and corvee units to serve their decorated ceramics, spindle whorls, figurines, and mor-
Aztec overlords. If regional groups materialized only in tuary rituals have been interpreted by archaeologists as
the last century of Aztec rule, then their appearance in markers of ethnic self-identity (Stocker 1983; Gerstle
Mexico migration myths might be attributed to an effort 1987; Rattray 1987; Santley, Yarborough, and Hall
by the Aztecs to manufacture history for provincial 1987; McCafferty 1989; Spence 1989; Schortman and
peoples so as to make the imperial organization appear Nakamura 1991).
natural and legitimate. While ethnic affiliation involves the use of artifacts,
ethnic attribution makes use of representational art.
Ethnic groups are presented in stereotyped visual images
Otomi ethnicity and the archaeological record
that define their character as seen by outsiders. Such
The ethnohistoric record indicates that ethnicity in Post- images may include the symbols of ethnic affiliation used
classic Mexico had no stable meaning. Several different by group members supplemented with other convention-
groupings of ethnic names appear in Aztec history, and alized markers of appearance and behavior, some of
each plays its distinctive ideological role. Ethnic identity which do in fact typify the group but have no symbolic
was most frequently used to legitimate the rights of importance for group members and others of which are
calpulli and teccalli groups to land, labor, and tribute. falsely ascribed to the group, usually communicating
Less often, the concepts of Toltec and Chichimec justi- some sort of ethnic slur. Archaeologically, such images
fied the centralizing policies of paramount rulers. might be preserved in murals, monumental sculpture,
Derogatory ethnic stereotypes promoted the civic elaborately decorated pottery, and, occasionally, pic-
culture fostered by the Aztec state, and the state used the torial manuscripts.
ethnic identities acquired by regional populations to Since the focus of this paper is upon the potential of
naturalize imperial administration. ethnic groups for political action, discussion concen-
The character of ethnicity suggested by the documen- trates upon the archaeological evidence for ethnic affili-
tary sources can be tested with archaeological data. If, as ation in central Mexico. First, the artifact types that
the documents suggest, the meaning of ethnicity in Post- served as Otomi ethnic markers are defined. Second, the
classic Mexico was unstable, then the archaeological distribution of these artifacts at Xaltocan is examined to
evidence of ethnicity should also be variable, changing indicate the ethnic composition of the Postclassic settle-
over time in intensity and social context. Archaeological ment. Finally, change in the frequency of these markers
evidence of Otomi ethnicity recovered from Xaltocan over time is delineated to test our ideas about the
meets these expectations. unstable character of ethnic identity.
Archaeologists can hope to recover evidence both of Sixteenth-century descriptions of the Otomi isolate
ethnic affiliation and of ethnic attribution (Comaroff the elements that outsiders considered distinctive of
1987). Ethnic affiliation refers to individuals' assertions Otomi culture. Some of these elements might have served
about their own group membership and the character of the Otomi as markers of self-identity. From his survey of
the group as defined by insiders; ethnic attribution con- the sources, Carrasco (1950) provides the following list:

Table 8.1. Otomi culture traits and their suggested archaeological correlates
Otomi culture traits
1 Preference for green corn
2 Hunting
3 Maguey-fiber cordage and textiles
4 Gaudy dress
5 Dispersed settlement
6 Small, low houses
7 Worship of Otonteuctli
8 Celebrations of religious festivals at rural chapels
1 language
2 subsistence
a. preference for green corn over dry, mature maize
b. emphasis on hunting and food collecting
c. bread made from mezquite beans
d. elaboration of maguey-fiber {ichtli) textiles and
cordage
3 dress and adornment
a. distinctive male hairstyle, shaved in front and
left long in back
b. gaudy dress: highly decorated capes, shifts and
skirts; red and yellow face paint; red feather arm
and leg bands
c. much jewelry: ear plugs and lip plugs of metal,
shell, stone, baked clay, maize stalks or reeds
4 houses
a. dispersed settlement pattern
b. small, low houses with straw roofs
5 social organization
a. sexual freedom prior to marriage
b. early marriages
6 religion
a. worship of Otonteuctli and Yocippa
b. celebration of important religious festivals at
rural chapels
c. elaboration of the volador ceremony
Of the Otomi traits isolated by Carrasco, some such as
language and face paint escape archaeological detection,
Political development in ancient Mexico 97
Archaeological correlates
Low frequencies of
a manos
h metates
High frequencies of
a solid ceramic balls (blow gun pellets)
b projectile points
c notched sherds (throw net weights)
High frequencies of
a trapezoidal stone blades (ichtli scrapers)
b large spindle whorls (to make ichtli thread)
High frequencies of ground-stone earrings and
labrets
Low frequencies of structures per hectare site area
Daub fragments
Stone images of Otonteuctli and Yocippa
Low on-site frequencies of bulky ceramic braziers
but others leave an imprint on the archaeological record.
Table 8.1 lists the archaeological correlations of some
Otomi traits, and Table 8.2 examines the frequency of
these traits in Middle Postclassic contexts at three Valley
of Mexico sites: Xaltocan and two non-Otomi communi-
ties, Huexotla and Xico (Fig. 8.1). Trait frequencies are
based upon intensive, systematic surface collections
carried out at all three sites (Brumfiel, 1980, 1986,
1987b). Sample sizes ranged from 1 percent (at the urban
core of Huexotla) to 11 percent (at Xico and Xaltocan);
they supply reliable estimates of artifact frequencies for
the three sites.
The frequencies for many types of archaeological
materials at Xaltocan are non-distinctive (Table 8.2).
The frequencies of manos and metates are comparable to
those at Huexotla (and greater than those at Xico). The
frequencies of trapezoidal stone blades and large spindle
whorls are higher than at Xico but lower than at Hue-
xotla. The frequency of ceramic braziers is higher at
Xaltocan than at either Huexotla or Xico. There are no
stone images of the Otomi gods Otonteuctli and Yocippa
at any of the three sites, but one stone image at Xaltocan
clearly depicts Tlaloc, a pan-Mesoamerican deity. Settle-
ment density at Xaltocan is moderate. Xaltocan, with
128 structures in 45 ha (2.8 structures per ha), has a
lower density than Xico (131 structures in 24 ha; 5.4
structures per ha), but a higher density than Ixtapaluca
Viejo (153-63 structures in 90 ha; 1.7-1.8 structures per
ha, see Blanton 1972).
 98 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

Table 8.2. The frequency ofpossible ethnic markers at Middle Postclassic Xaltocan, Huexotla, and Xico (figures in
parentheses are frequencies per 100 rim sherds).

Xaltocana Huexotlab Xicoc

Manos 15 (0.2) 7 (0.2) 2 (>0.1)

Metates 13 (0.2) 2 (0.1) 1 (>0.1)
Solid ceramic balls 17 (0.3) 6 (0.2) 11 (0.2)
Projectile points 44 (0.7) 8 (0.2) 13 (0.3)
(13 finished) (11 finished)
Notched sherds 8 (0.1) 0 2 (<0.1)
Trapezoidal stone blades 5 (0.1) 16 (0.4) 0
Large spindle whorls 7 (0.1) 11 (0.3) 1 (<0.1)
Ground obsidian earrings and labrets 14 (0.2) not noted 1 (<0.1)
Daub fragments 11 (0.2) not noted not noted
Stone images of Otonteuctli and Yocippa 0 0 0
Ceramic braziers 110 (1.7) 4 (0.1) 54 (1.1)

a
Number of rim sherds = 6562
b
Number of rim sherds = 3582
c
Number of rim sherds = 5062

The absence at Xaltocan of many of the traits that
outsiders regarded as characteristic of Otomi culture
suggests that many of these traits were circumstantial.
They were adaptations to the predominantly arid
regions occupied by the Otomi (Carrasco 1950:59, 71),
or they were practices that stemmed from the low
socioeconomic status of the sixteenth-century Otomi
(Carrasco 1950:303^4). At Middle Postclassic Xaltocan,
an important Valley of Mexico settlement with some
potential for chinampa (raisedfield)agriculture, many of
these traits did not occur. Maize was allowed to mature
fully so it could be stored to support settled life in town.
A wide variety of crops were cultivated in Xaltocan's
chinampas, lessening reliance upon the drought-resistant
maguey, and Xaltocan's status as a regional political
center demanded ritual performed in urban temples
rather than rural chapels. Thus, many of the traits that
defined Otomi identity in the sixteenth century were not
appropriate to fourteenth-century Xaltocan.
But some characteristic traits are evident in Xalto-
can's archaeological record. The frequencies of artifacts
associated with hunting (solid ceramic balls, projectile
points, and notched sherds) are somewhat higher at
Xaltocan than at Huexotla or Xico. Daub fragments
(thick slabs of clay with fluted impressions) are fairly
common at Xaltocan, but they were not noted at the
other two sites. Again, the possibility exists that these
traits were adaptations to local circumstances and only
incidently ethnic markers. Hunting waterfowl was an
important extractive activity for many lake-bed settle-
ments, and the lack of availability of construction mater-
ials such as lumber and stone may have forced a reliance
upon wattle-and-daub construction.
One clear indicator of Otomi self-identity may have
been recovered at Xaltocan. Fifteen narrow, ground-
obsidian, Tau-shaped labrets were found in Middle
Postclassic units at Xaltocan; a total of forty-six labrets
were recovered from the site as a whole. Forty of these
were unfinished, suggesting local manufacture. While
jewelry of any type was rare at Huexotla and Xico,
similar obsidian labrets have been recovered from Calix-
tlahuaca and Tlacotepec in the Toluca Valley (Brum-
field, Salcedo, and Schafer 1993). The Toluca Valley
contained Otomi speakers at the time of European
contact, and Carrasco (1950:241-55) suggests that the
neighboring Mazahua area was the point of origin for
Otomi speakers in the Valley of Mexico.
Sahagun ([1569] 1950-69, Bk. 10, Ch. 29) indicates
that the obsidian labrets served as indicators of Otomi
identity: "The lip plugs of the [Otomi] rulers were green
stone lip plugs, or sea shell lip plugs, or gold lip plugs ...
The lip plugs of all the [other Otomi] people were of rock
crystal, obsidian or smoky stone ..." Certainly these
labrets were well suited to serve as ethnic markers. Like
hairstyles, face paint, and clothing, labrets were items of
personal adornment, appropriate for asserting ethnic
 Political development in ancient Mexico 99

higher in artifact collections that contained labrets than

in collections without them (Table 8.3).
At Xaltocan, labrets were recovered in all areas of the
site. The forty-six labrets appear in thirty-nine different
collection units, and while a particularly dense con-
centration of labrets exists in the northwest corner of the
site, no sector of the site is entirely free of them (Fig. 8.8).
This distribution is somewhat surprising; it does not
conform to the model of community organization sug-
gested by ethnohistoric sources, i.e., localized wards of
ethnically distinct calpulli and teccalli groups. Instead,
the scattered distribution of labrets suggests one of three
possibilities. Either the entire population of Xaltocan
was Otomi, or the members of Otomi calpulli and teccalli

Fig. 8.5 The Otomipatron deity Otonteuctli, wearing a

labret, appears in the festival of Xocotl huetzi, based on
the Codex Magliabecchiano.

group membership. The labrets might well have been

elements in a region-wide system of facial ethnic
markers, contrasting with the markers of other ethnic
groups by shape, raw material, or part of the face which
was adorned. For example, Chimalpahin (1965:76)
reports that in Yacapixtla, Morelos, "All went about
with worked metal ornaments in their noses in honor of
the devil [Tezcatlipoca]." The ground-obsidian labrets,
then, may be the single element of Xaltocan's archaeo-
logical assemblage that is most expressive of Otomi
ethnicity (Fig. 8.5 and 8.6).
Examination of the partially finished labrets from
Xaltocan enables us to reconstruct the process of
manufacture (Fig. 8.7) (Brumfiel, Salcedo, and Schafer
1993). An obsidian blade was heavily retouched along
its lateral edges below the striking platform until a
narrow T-shaped outline was achieved. All edges of the
blade were then ground smooth. The labrets do not seem
to have required much time to produce; experimental
attempts at labret production suggest that they could be
turned out in less than an hour (John E. Clark, pers.
comm., 1989). The ease with which obsidian labrets were
produced suggests that they were not primarily markers Fig. 8.6 Otomi dancers, wearing labrets, celebrate the
of high status. This impression is supported by the fact festival of Xocotl huetzi, based on the Codex
that the proportion of decorated pottery was not much Borbonicus.
 100 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel

Table 8.3. Percentage of decorated pottery in units with and without labrets.

Decorated rims Total rims Percent decorated

rims

Middle Postclassic units

Units with labrets 301 866 34.8
Units without labrets 1812 5696 31.8
Late Postclassic units
Units with labrets 157 560 28.0
Units without labrets 1407 5727 24.6

groups did not co-reside in localized wards within the
settlement, or ethnic identity was somewhat smeared at
Xaltocan, with many residents choosing to identify with
the ethnic group of their community's ruling lineage.
The first possibility is flatly contradicted by Nazareo
(1940:123^1) who asserts that Xaltocan was a multi-
ethnic community. His assertion is corroborated by
many other sources that comment on the multi-ethnic
composition of central Mexican communities (Carrasco
1971:366, Reyes Garcia 1977, Hicks 1982:243). The
second possibility is somewhat more likely. Calpulli
groups have been considered as co-residential units pri-
marily because of the Spanish habit of equating calpulli
with barrio, and by the coincidence of calpulli names
with barrio names in historical or contemporary com-
munities (Carrasco 1971:363^1). And yet, it is possible
that the localized character of the calpulli groups was
established with reference to the locations of the sanc-
tuaries of their patron deities rather than with reference
to the residences of their members (Reyes Garcia
1977:110 records the existence of a multi-ethnic barrio in
sixteenth-century Cuauhtinchan).
The third possibility seems even more likely. Calpulli
members might come to identify the ruling family and its
patron deity as protectors and benefactors of the entire
community. Smith (1984) points to the acquired identifi-
cation of residents with their town, citing Chimalpahin's
statement (1965:66): "[I]t was the custom that when a
person moved from his town and went to settle in
another already established town, such a person would
assume as his own name that of the town to which he had

I
rIf rff rnr|rrn|inr|TiripTTTJTTnjTT
1
CENTIMETERS
2 3 4 5 6 7 8 ft 101

Fig. 8.7 Labrets from Xaltocan. The two on the left are
finished examples from rock crystal. The obsidian blade
on the right is in an early stage of manufacture. It has
been heavily retouched along its lateral edges below the
striking platform. Next, the length of the blade would be Fig. 8.8 The distribution of labrets within the survey area
ground to a smooth cylinder. of Xaltocan.

Table 8.4. Otomi ethnic markers at Xaltocan, Middle Postclassic and Late Postclassic periods (figures in parentheses
are frequencies per 100 rim sherds).
Obsidian labrets
Projectile points
Solid ceramic balls
Notched sherds
a
Number of rim sherds = 6562
b
Number of rim sherds = 6287
moved." The archaeological data from Xaltocan may
indicate then that, despite the historically diverse
ethnic composition of central Mexican communities,
ethnicity served as a unifying ideology at the com-
munity level.
The archaeological data also indicate that ethnic dis-
tinctiveness of Xaltocan decreased once the town had
been incorporated into the Aztec state. The frequency of
obsidian labrets is only half as great in the Late Post-
classic collections from Xaltocan as in the Middle Post-
classic collections (Table 8.4). These data may reflect the
changing ethnic composition of Xaltocan's population,
or they may imply that the value of Otomi affiliation
declined once Xaltocan was no longer an autonomous
community.
When Xaltocan was conquered in 1395, the entire
town was abandoned. Many residents followed Xalto-
can's ruler north to seek refuge in the kingdom of Metz-
titlan; others fled east to Tlaxcala and Texcoco (Anales
de Cuauhtitlan 1945:34, Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-7:1, 323,
II, 36). Thirty years later, the town was resettled under
Aztec rule, and the new population was a heterogeneous
one. It included Acolmatlacas, Colhuas, Tenochcas, and
Otomis (Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1945:50). Quite possibly,
the new population contained a lower proportion of
ethnic Otomi than the earlier one. This would result in a
lower number of labret-using individuals at the site,
and a lower frequency of labret manufacture in Late
Postclassic times.
A second possibility is that the value of Otomi affili-
ation declined. In Middle Postclassic times, Otomi
identity may have served as a symbol of the mutualistic
relationship between commoners and the elite: access to
land in exchange for tribute and labor. In Late Post-
classic times, however, mutuality was replaced by intense
exploitation. The critical juncture may have been the
absorption of Xaltocan's elites by the Aztec power.
Political development in ancient Mexico 101
Middle Postclassica Late Postclassic5
14 (0.2) 6 (0.1)
44 (0.7) 25 (0.4)
17 (0.3) 3 (0.05)
8 (0.1) 3 (0.05)
structure. When changes in the regional balance of
power made it advantageous for Xaltocan's elites to
align themselves with the ruling class of the regional
state, Otomi identity lost the advantages it had once held
for commoners. Otomi ethnicity became a disadvantage-
ous, stigmatized identity imposed by dominant others,
and the stigma of Otomi identity was no longer balanced
by its usefulness as a symbol of the mutual interests of
Xaltocan's elites and commoners. Commoner interest in
expressing an Otomi identity began to fade, and the
result was a lower frequency of labret manufacture at the
site.
Conclusions
The ethnohistoric and archaeological data suggest that
ethnicity was a highly labile trait in late prehispanic
central Mexico. It assumed many forms and was appro-
priated by many different parties for many different
purposes. Prior to the formation of the Aztec state,
ethnicity operated at the level of calpulli and teccalli
groups to legitimate claims to land and tribute. In addi-
tion, the ethnic affiliation of a kingdom's ruling lineage
provided a source of shared identity for members of the
community. Under Aztec rule, ethnicity at the level of
calpulli and teccalli groups continued, but the Aztecs
sought to override particularistic ethnic identities within
the ruling class by forging a regional elite culture. The
Aztec state also promoted derogatory ethnic stereotypes,
thereby asserting the superiority of the civic culture
fostered by the state. Finally, partly by Aztec intent and
partly independent of their will, ethnicity emerged on a
regional level. Neighboring towns developed a collective
identity as the result of the integrative policies of the
smaller states that preceded Aztec rule, the alliances
formed to resist Aztec conquest, the common service in
Aztec military and corvee drafts, and the very myths that
102 Elizabeth M. Brumfiel
the Aztecs fabricated to naturalize the regional organi-
zation which they imposed.
Thus, ethnicity seems to have provided no fixed align-
ments for factional competition and political develop-
ment. Rather, ethnicity was a tool, fashioned to the
needs of political actors as defined by the existing poli-
tical structure. In late prehispanic Mexico, when the
most important political unit was the petty kingdom,
ethnicity defined relationships within and between such
communities. With the emergence of larger states, eth-
nicity began to operate at the regional level. It appears,
then, that ethnicity is itself shaped by political develop-
ment; its value as a political resource (to build factions
and engage in political action) is a function of the size
and complexity of the existing political structure.
Ethnic-based political factions that cut across class lines
to mobilize entire regions for political action probably
emerged only as the product of large states.
Acknowledgments
My thanks to Fred Hicks, Paul Loukides, Randy
McGuire, Hattula Moholy-Nagy, Tom Patterson, Glenn
Perusek, Mary Pohl, and Michael Smith for their sug-
gestions, criticisms, and comments that improved pre-
vious versions of this paper. Fieldwork at Huexotla,
Xico, and Xaltocan was supported by grants from the
National Science Foundation (GS-38470), the Mellon
Foundation and the H. John Heinz III Charitable Trust.
Maggie LaNoue produced the drawings from native
manuscripts that illustrate this chapter.

Factional divisions within
the Aztec (Colhua) royal
family
RUDOLF VAN ZANTWIJK
The Aztec or Colhua royal family in the prehispanic
Mexican empire was the real heart of the political elite in
Aztec society. This principal family resided in the great
city of Mexico-Tenochtitlan, and was related by affinal
and consanguineous ties to the leading families in the
other important centres of central Mexico and beyond.
The families of Mesoamerican chieftains were polygy-
nous, and in many of these, including the Aztec royal
family, political succession was decided by election.
Where both characteristics operated together, many
mothers with sons or daughters who were potential can-
didates for positions of rule lived together in palace-
compounds with many officials who were often their
own or their children's relatives. We don't have to tax
our imaginations to expect a rather fertile ground for the
flowering of political intrigues and the resulting factional
divisions.
In addition to these two factors, two other character-
istics of Mesoamerican systems of government contri-
buted to factionalism: the almost omnipresent dual
organization of local rule and the typically bilateral
systems of kinship and inheritance. The dual organi-
zation meant that on every level of some importance
there were two co-rulers, both occupying equal positions
in the hierarchy of government but with different func-
tions. Usually, one ruler was responsible for the external
relations of the domain whereas the other was mainly in
charge of the maintenance of internal order and justice.
Conflicts between the two co-rulers were possible of
course, and some violent ones are recorded in Toltec and
Aztec historiography. In addition, the bilateral system of
kinship in which no clear-cut distinction was made
between the hereditary rights of descendants in the
paternal and the maternal lines often gave rise to con-
flicts about succession.
Ethnic heterogeneity was another common feature of
Mesoamerican societies, and often it was present on the
local level. Frequently ethnic diversity was reflected in
the bipartite, tripartite, quadripartite, or septipartite
governmental systems. At times, the two co-rulers at the
highest level represented two different ethnic groups; in
these cases, ethnic differences were an additional source
of latent dissension.
Before continuing our description of factional dis-
putes in detail, it is worth considering the specific char-
acter of interethnic social arrangements of prehispanic
Mesoamerica. People of European culture, accustomed
to nationalism and ethnocentrism, are inclined to inter-
pret disputes between ethnic groups almost exclusively
in terms of ethnic rivalry and competition and to view
membership in a certain ethnic group as a constant and
irreversible condition. This, however, is not true in
Mesoamerican societies, particularly not in the social
and political lives of the elites. Families of high social
and political status intermarried frequently with eth-
nically different leading families, and because of the fact
that a person could be considered as belonging to his
father's kin as well as to his mother's, all descendants of
mixed marriages had the opportunity to identify with
one group or the other.
This Mesoamerican particularity made it possible for
structurally and functionally identical groups which, by
virtue of their similarity, competed for resources and/or
positions of power or prestige, to identify themselves
with certain ethnic groups although their members did
not fully belong to these groups. In other words, political
factions within a single ethnically heterogeneous society
could present themselves as belonging to different ethnic
groups although in reality they belonged to the same
kind of ethnically heterogeneous groups.
Now let us consider the occurrence of factional divi-
sions within the Aztec royal family against the back-
ground of the dual system of government, ethnic diver-
sity and factions in the whole process of Aztec political
history. Surprisingly, the indigenous Aztec histories
don't emphasize political factionalism. In general, the
well-known great historians of the colonial period
present a picture of a rather stable and internally peace-
ful monarchial system of government, characterized by
continuity and absence of revolts, coups d'etat, and other
major disturbances. However, a careful examination of
the historical record reveals many episodes which may
have involved factional competition.
For the legendary period in Aztlan and during the
103
 104 Rudolf van Zantwijk

early Aztec migrations, clashes between co-rulers or con- political integration of at least seven different ethnic
flicts within the multipartite chieftainship are recorded groups: Mexitin or Mexihcah, Colhuas or Toltecs, Acol-
in the following cases: huas, Tepanecah, Chinampanecah, Chichimecah and
Otomis or Otoncah. Five or six of these groups contri-
1. between Chalchiuhtlatonac and his brother, the
buted to the population of the two Aztec cities of
"king" of the Cuexteca, in Aztlan (Chimalpahin
Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco; only the Acolhuas did not
1963:1,5); contribute in any considerable number. In addition,
2. between Huitzilopochtli and some relatives on one Mexicas joined with other ethnic groups in settling other
side and his sister Coyolxauhqui and their uncles of central Mexican towns, for the incorporation of entire
the calpolli Huitznahuac on the other side (Sahagun subdivisions of ethnic groups as calpolli groups in local
1946:1,286-9; Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:34^6); multi-ethnic communities was a widespread phenom-
3. between Huitzilopochtli and his sister Malinalxochitl enon. Therefore, all the principal ethnic groups had
(Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:30-1); relatives in a number of central Mexican cities and
4. between Tenoch, Cuauhtlequetzqui, and their allied towns.
calpolli chiefs on one side and Copil and his calpolli
Integrational processes of this kind occur in other
Chalman on the other side (Alvarado Tezozomoc
parts of the world as well, but generally result in a
1949:64^5);
weakening and ultimate disappearance of ethnic distinc-
5. between the chiefs of the Tenochca and those of the
tions. In Mesoamerica, the ethnic subgroupings were
Tlatelolca shortly after the "founding" of Mexico-
converted into corporate (calpolli) entities with specific
Tenochtitlan (Torquemada 1975:1,136).
political, social, ritual, and economic functions. This
The first three cases mentioned refer to rather corporate identity made it possible for these groups to
mythical stories. Although there are some connections persist for a very long time. It will be clear now that
with historical social groups, it is almost impossible to Mesoamerican ethnic groups such as these had a quality
reconstruct the real basis of the disputes. In the first and that was quite different from, let us say, that of a Jewish
historically most remote dispute, ethnic domination is minority in a European city. Although these Mexican
given as the cause of the flight of Chalchiuhtlatonac and local groups carried ethnic labels, they were not ethnic
his Mexitin followers from Aztlan. The second case groups in our sense of the word, but just corporate
involves an internal dispute between one group led by entities which recognized a certain remote common
the priest Huitzilopochtli wishing to continue the descent. This does not mean, however, that tensions and
Mexitin migration and an opposing group led by his even violent clashes between ethnic groups were wholly
sister Coyolxauhqui wishing an easier "Toltec" way of absent. The historical sources record a number of brutal
life (based on settled irrigation farming). The third case conflicts, for instance between Mexitin and Colhuas
is more complicated because of the apparent reinterpre- before the former left Colhuacan "to found" their "new"
tation of history by the Aztecs themselves. In this story, city of Mexico-Tenochtitlan. Nevertheless, it looks as if
Malinalxochitl and her Chalmeca followers represent this kind of violent clash occurred particularly in the
the more autochthonous population of the Colhuacan lower social strata.
lake district, and Huitzilopochtli is described as the We now have some background for considering the
priest and chief of the Mexitin migrants. The two leaders factional disputes between Tenoch, Cuauhtlequetzqui
are said to be brother and sister, and to make this and their allied calpolli chiefs on the one side, and Copil
credible Malinalxochitl is depicted as a troublesome and his calpolli Chalman on the other side. This dispute
companion during the trek. In this way, a dispute took place at the beginning of the formation of the entity
between two different ethnic groups is represented as an now generally labeled as the "Aztec" state.
internal struggle of the Mexitin. In the last two cases we Near the middle of the fourteenth century, calpollis
are reaching the more solid ground of social history for it (i.e., local social, political, and ritual groups under the
now becomes possible to associate the leading figures leadership of one or two noble families) of Otomi, Chi-
with historically known social groups within incipient chimec, Colhua, and Chinampanec ethnicity had
Aztec society. These last two disputes were crucial in founded Tenochtitlan-Tlatelolco on the higher ground
shaping the political structure of Mexico-Tenochtitlan, within the coastal swamps. Within the incipient Aztec
the Aztec capital. society, tension existed between more autochthonous
During the first half of the fourteenth century, the Colhua and Chinampanec groups represented by the
development of Aztec society involved the social and calpolli Chalman on the one side, and the Otomi and
 Divisions within the Aztec royal family 105

The Aztec Royal Family Rulers of Tlatelolco

(its principal members)

Malinalxochitl (?) Huitzilopochtli

[Chalman] [Mexitin]

Copil Acacihtli, Tenoch, Cuauhtlequetzqui, etc.

1. *Acamapichtli Tenochca brides I. *Tlacoten 1. Cuacuauhpitzahuac

I |

2. Huitzilihuitl II. Teuhtlehuac

I
3. Chimalpopoca 2. Tlacateotl
III. Teilhtlehuac
3. Cuauhtlahtoa
4. Itzcoatl Da of ruler of
Tlacopan Tiliuhcan

IV. Tlacaelel 5. Motecuzoma 4. Moquihuix

I
Iquehuacatzin Machimaleh Atotoztli ($) Tezozomoc

6. Axayacatl 7. Tizoc 8. Ahuitzotl Chalchiuhnenetzin ($)

V. Tlilpotonqui Cacama Texcatlteuctli

Tiyacapantzin (?)

VI. Tlacaelel VII. Tlacotzin

9. Motecuzoma 10. Cuitlahuac 11. Cuauhtemoc

I
Tecuichpo ($)

Arabic numeral designates the tlahtoani (external ruler) of Tenochtitlan;

Roman numeral designates the cihuacoatl (internal ruler) of Tenochtitlan.

Fig. 9.1 Colhua and Tepanec factions within the ruling lineage of Tenochtitlan.

various "Chichimec" immigrants, including the Mexitin,
on the other side. These groups lived side by side domi-
nated, in different degrees, by the Tepanec, Colhua, and
Acolhua capitals while maintaining a precarious balance
of power among themselves. Aztec society was born as
the immediate outcome of this struggle - that ended with
a very interesting compromise.
This compromise was made during the second half of
the fourteenth century, as Tepanec and Acolhua poli-
tical rivalry intensified (Fig. 9.1). Probably the increase
of external pressure led the citizens of Tenochtitlan-
Tlatelolco to accept central leadership under the rule of
Chalman, the most prestigeous of the calpollis. The first
Aztec ruler, Acamapichtli-Chilatlexotzin, representing
the leading noble family of Chalman, became the poly-
gynous bridetaker to all the other calpollis that consti-
tuted Tenochca society. As such, his family obtained a
predominant position in the city, and it came to be
considered ancestral to the later Aztec royalty. Obvi-
ously, in this process the bride-giving groups had to
accept a lower political status than the Chalmecan
nobles, but this did not mean that they were equals
among themselves. In fact, political hierarchization
became more and more dependent upon the social, poli-
tical, and ritual status of the maternal ancestry of the
leading nobles. Therefore, factional divisions on the
highest level of incipient Aztec society were associated
with efforts to upgrade the standing of one's own mater-
nal relatives and to downgrade the status of the mothers
of political rivals. Because of the fact that the ethnicity of
the various maternal relatives could be quite different,
ethnic conflicts could result from, or form the back-
ground to, such factional disputes. Only in the light of
this particular polygynous arrangement may we under-
stand why a curious compromise was made among the
competing noble families of the incipient Aztec capital.
 106 Rudolf van Zantwijk
Although the Chalmecan noble family of Acamapich-
tli undoubtedly obtained political dominance over the
other families of calpolli chiefs, the Chalmecan nobles,
symbolized in official histories by Copil and his mother,
are depicted as the losers and their Otomi and Mexitin
rivals, symbolized by Tenoch and Cuauhtlequetzqui, as
the victors in the first serious confrontation between the
two sides. This paradox may be explained: within the
ruling family the members who descended from the
Tenoch and Cuauhtlequetzqui families had a strong
motive to make them more important. In reality,
however, the descendants of Tenoch occupied positions
of rule only on the level of calpolli and lower govern-
mental functions in the Aztec state. Nevertheless,
because of the importance given the Tenoch faction in
Aztec myth, his descendants were allowed to play speci-
fic roles in ritual, ceremonial, calendrical, and other
public occasions, so that they could at certain intervals
be considered important. This social mechanism
undoubtedly smoothed away some differences within the
incipient Aztec political establishment, but did not truly
overcome the most important tensions.
We may assume that the phenomenon of internal
tension within the Mesoamerican multi-ethnic political
systems was widely known to the inhabitants of that city
when they started to build a new social and political
arrangement that later was called Aztec. In its early
years, Tenochtitlan was ruled by chiefs who partly oper-
ated on behalf of Colhua overlords while a number of
other local chiefs recognized the superiority of the
Tepanecs of Azcapotzalco. Tlatelolco from the very start
was firmly controlled by the latter. We have learned from
archaeology that Tlatelolco was populated earlier than
Tenochtitlan. Therefore it may be assumed that an even-
tual separation of a number of Tenochca groups and
their leaders with the intention 'to found' the sister-city
of Tlatelolco in reality referred to a migration of factions
that preferred to live under Tepanec political influence,
much stronger in Tlatelolco while Colhua political
influence was growing in Tenochtitlan.
According to the majority of historical sources, the
new Colhua-Aztec regime of Acamapichtli and Ilan-
cueitl overcame possible tensions with the group of
calpolli-chiefs who exercised local authority in the anter-
ior period ( 1340 - 1376) by a series of twenty mar-
riages between Acamapichtli and the daughters of the
aforementioned chiefs. The formation of these inter-
ethnic or inter-familiar relations between different chief-
tainships in local and regional settings was the normal
Mesoamerican solution for the problem of creating unity
in multipartite governmental systems.
In addition, the opposition of older ruling groups was
reduced through marriage alliance. Acacihtli, holder
of the noble title Tecpanecatl-Chichimecatecuhtli in
Tenochtitlan, was a descendant of the first Huitzilihuitl,
who ruled in Chapultepec before the founding of Mexico-
Tenochtitlan. This Huitzilihuitl was the son of a princess
from Tzompanco and a Mexitin spouse (Chimalpahin
1963:1,79, Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:80). Apparently
this older royal family wasfirmlyallied to the new one by
the decision to elect the future rulers of Tenochtitlan
from the descendants of Acamapichtli and Acacihtli's
daughter Tezcatlamiahuatl. In the Codex AzcatitIan
(1949:1am. XIII), Acacihtli presides over the corona-
tion ceremony of Acamapichtli, Tenochtitlan's first
king.
The question arises, what then happened to dual
government in Tenochtitlan? The Colhua princess Ilan-
cueitl and her nephew or foster son Acamapichtli-
Chilatlexotzin of mixed Colhua-Mexica descent ruled
together shortly after the foundation of the city (Zantwijk
1985:99-105). The data concerning Ilancueitl and Acama-
pichtli are very confused and inconsistent. Some sources,
such as the Codex Izhuatepec, suggest that Ilancueitl was
the chieftainess in the Tlacatecpan calpolli and Acama-
pichtli was chief of the calpolli Chalman. The Codex
Mendoza (1978:21) indicates that Acamapichtli exercised
the functions of Cihuacoatl for some years, suggesting
that Ilancueitl or another functionary was meanwhile in
charge of external rule. Many sources, however, do not
even mention Ilancueitl (Chimalpahin 1963:20-1; see also
Zantwijk 1985:182). Belonging to a generation before
Acamapichtli, she was most likely his predecessor.
Certainly, official Aztec historiography contains no
mention of co-rulers for Acamapichtli's successors,
Huitzilihuitl (II) and Chimalpopoca. This has always
been a problem for me, for I do not believe that the dual
system of government, so essential in Mesoamerica, was
abolished in Tenochtitlan for two or three generations.
Therefore, I shall present a hypothesis derived from the
data provided by the sources regarding the first import-
ant internal split within the royal family. These data
refer to the separation which developed between the
lineage of Chimalpopoca and the other lineages within
the royal family arising from the different roles played
by their leaders in the Tepanec war of 1426.
The official 'reformed' Aztec history gives the impres-
sion that Chimalpopoca was a coward who was caught
and murdered by the Tepanecs and that therefore his
children were excluded from governmental functions.
Some sources suggest that Chimalpopoca was murdered
by the Tepanecs from Tlacopan at the instigation of

Itzcoatl (Nazareo 1940:118, Torquemada 1975:1,125-6,
Anales de Tlatelolco 1948:35). Under these circum-
stances the Chimalpopoca faction soon lost out to the
opposing faction led by Itzcoatl, Motecuzoma Ilhuica-
mina, and Tlacaelel, who created a new regime. In the
beginning, however, there was still some support for the
lineage of the executed king. Chimalpopoca was suc-
ceeded by his son Xihuitltemoc, who ruled for about
sixty days (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:104).
In order to understand what was going on we have to
realize the so-called Tepanec war started as a rebellion
of certain factions in Tenochtitlan and some other cities
against Tepanec central authority and its local repre-
sentatives. The Anales de Tlatelolco (1948:15), written as
early as 1528, mention two successive Tepanec kings of
Tenochtitlan, the first called Tlacoten and the second
Teuhtlehuac, who were brothers. The second name is
very remarkable, because Teuhtlehuac is also the name
of Chimalpopoca's son, who held the office of Tlacoch-
calcatl, one of the two supreme military commanders,
before his father's death (Anales de Cuauhtitlan
1945:38). Among the Aztecs and related groups, it was
customary for grandparents to have grandchildren
named after them! Therefore I now state my hypothesis:
if Chimalpopoca was a son of the Tepanec ruler of
Tenochtitlan who was called Teuhtlehuac, it would
imply that, until Itzcoatl came to power, the inhabitants
of Tenochtitlan were ruled by two royal lineages which
provided the two co-rulers on the highest level. That is to
say, a Tepanec dynastic lineage provided the external
rulers and a Colhua-Mexica dynastic lineage provided
their internal co-rulers. Five Tepanec rulers of Tenoch-
titlan are then mentioned in the sources: Tlacoten, his
brother Teuhtlehuac (I), his probable son Chimalpo-
poca and the sons of this unhappy king, called Xihuitlte-
moc and Teuhtlehuac (II). This hypothesis is very
attractive, because it makes it possible to explain
various historical data that are otherwise rather difficult
to understand, for instance:
1) the absence of co-rulers of Acamapichtli; Huitzili-
huitl, and Chimalpopoca himself;
2) the fact that Maxtla and other Tepanec leaders
wanted Chimalpopoca to live in Azcapotzalco,
because he belonged to their people (Alvarado Tezo-
zomoc 1975:238);
3) the remarkable circumstance that the Tlacochcalcatl
Teuhtlehuac (II) lived in the more Tepanec-
influenced twin town of Tlaltelolco and not in
Tenochtitlan where he exercised his office (Alvarado
Tezozomoc 1949:98);
Divisions within the Aztec royal family 107
4) the rather indifferent attitude of the people of Tenoch-
titlan when Chimalpopoca was caught and carried
away by Tepanecs (Orozco y Berra 1960:111,186-7);
5) the incidence of the personal names Chimalpopoca
and Teuhtlehuac in the Tepanec royal families of
Azcapolzalco and Tlacopan.
In addition to these facts a wholly new light is thrown
on Itzcoatl's reform of historiography and on the exclu-
sion of Chimalpopoca's descendants. However, this
hypothesis does not imply that Chimalpopoca did not
belong to the Aztec royal family. Most probably he was
the son of a Mexican princess, because this type of
intermarriage between two ruling lineages was very
common. As we know, for the Mexicans, circumstances
decided whether a person belonged to his father's group
or to his mother's. Therefore, in spite of frequent inter-
marriage, ethnic divisions in the Aztec sense could be
very persistent: the official distinction between Mexicans
and Tepanecs lasted in a barrio of Azcapotzalco until the
year 1918 (Barrios 1952:287)!
Therefore, this factional competition between a
Tepanec and a Colhua-Chalmec governmental elite was
probably the most persistent phenomenon in the political
evolution of the Aztec ruling family. We shall see that it
continued to play an important role in political develop-
ments, persisting in indigenous government during the
colonial period. It is worth giving ample attention to the
Tepanec-Colhua opposition and its role within the Aztec
political establishment, for persistently it serves as a leit-
motiv for factional disputes at the highest level.
In 1431, at the end of the Tepaneca-Mexico war, a new
clash developed between Itzcoatl, the tlahtoani (external
leader) of Tenochtitlan, and Cuauhtlahtoa, ruler of
Tlatelolco. Although Cuauhtlahtoa was Itzcoatl's ally in
the war, he was violently suppressed because he was a
direct descendant of the Tepanec rulers. He was forced
to live in Tenochtitlan as a puppet-ruler. After his death
in 1460, the rule of his lineage ended when Itzcoatl's
successor Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina installed a distant
collateral relative, Moquihuix, as ruler of Tlatelolco
(Chimalpahin 1963:94, 105; Codex Mendoza 1978:22, 24
[folio 6]).
The next violent factional division with the Aztec
royal family took place after the death of Motecuzoma
Ilhuicamina, when the prince-elect Iquehuacatzin was
excluded from government. This episode has been
treated by me at some length in earlier publications
(Zantwijk 1978, 1985:189-91). Therefore I shall describe
it only briefly here.
Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina was a son of the princess
 108 Rudolf van Zantwijk
Miyahuaxihuitl of Cuauhnahuac(an), an old city that is
now called Cuernavaca, and he was married to Chi-
chimecacihuatzin, a princess of his mother's family.
Therefore, the political status of Motecuzoma and his
children depended to a considerable extent on the pres-
tige of the royal house of Cuauhnahuac. When Motecu-
zoma was a young prince, during the reign of Chimalpo-
poca (1417-27), troops from Mexico-Tenochtitlan and
Tlatelolco still served as auxiliaries of the rulers of
Cuauhnahuac in their campaign in what is now the state
of Guerrero. However, after the Mexican conquest of
Azcapotzalco, Mexico-Tenochtitlan eclipsed its south-
ern rival, and Motecuzoma's mother's and wife's family
inevitably lost its high standing.
Motecuzoma and Chichimecacihuatzin had a daugh-
ter, Atotoztli, who was married to Itzcoatl's son Tezozo-
moc. They were to become the parents of the later kings
Axayacatl, Tizoc, and Ahuitzotl. Furthermore Motecu-
zoma had two sons, Iquehuacatzin, who was tlacatecatl
(a military commander), and Mahchimaleh. The office of
tlacatecatl was a useful leg up to the throne, and in 1472,
shortly before the civil war between Axayacatl and
Moquihuix broke out, "they [the Tenochcas] killed Ique-
huacatzin, who should have been the king of Tenochti-
tlan" (Anales de Tlatelolco 1948:59).
The background of this political murder is rather
complicated. When Motecuzoma died, probably in 1466,
a factional dispute arose over his succession. His half-
brother Tlacaelel, the influential Cihuacoatl of Tenoch-
titlan and president of the High Council of the Empire
(Tlahtocan) favored the nomination of Princess Atotoz-
tli, as a kind of caretaker for her sons, who had not yet
the age nor sufficient experience to govern the empire. In
this he obtained the support of the king of Tetzcoco,
who was one of the electors. In doing so, their influential
faction passed over two more logical candidates: Prince
Iquehuacatzin, the tlacatecatl, and Atotoztli's husband,
Prince Tezozomoc. As long as Atotoztli was in charge,
her brothers apparently did not dare to resist openly
what undoubtedly was a disputed choice that caused
serious controversy in the highest circles of the Aztec
nobility. But as soon as Atotoztli's youngest son Axaya-
catl was installed as her successor, Iquehuacatzin and his
brother embezzled the tax revenue of the province of
Coaixtlahuacan, the most important conquest of their
father Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina. However, their aunts,
the women of the palace, secretly took possession of it,
and then made their crime public. The two brothers fled,
losing their noble titles and their honor.
One aspect of this palace-revolution is of particular
importance. The decisive role played by the "aunts" of
the palace indicates the tremendous influence of women
in the polygynic extended families of the ruling elite. The
reasons for passing over Iquehuacatzin are not entirely
clear. Maybe Tlacaelel did not like the prospect of
having an experienced co-ruler at his side. Another
possibility is that the faction guided by Tlacaelel aimed
at compromise between the Colhua and Tepanec parties,
a goal that could not be served by electing the
descendants of the ruling family of Cuauhnahuac. There
are some strong indications for this last supposition.
First of all, prince Tezozomoc, Atotoztli's husband, had
a Tepanec mother and Tepanec personal name. Further-
more, Axayacatl's sister was married to Moquihuix of
Tlatelolco, who was a collateral descendant of the
Tepanec royal family. Therefore it seems that Tlacaelel's
policy was intended to create a compromise between the
Colhua political establishment of Tenochtitlan and the
Tepanec political elite of Tlatelolco. However, if this was
really the main objective, we must conclude that Tlacael-
el's policy ended in failure.
Already in the second year of Axayacatl's government
severe tension arose between the ruling Tenochca faction
and the Tlatelolcas under Moquihuix. The historical
sources give several reasons for the enmity between the
two princes, who originally must have had very good
relations, for Moquihuix named his first son Axayacatl.
The rift is said to have originated in two incidents.
1. During a campaign against the inhabitants of what
is now southeastern Puebla and central Veracruz, Mote-
cuzoma Ilhuicamina ordered from Tenochtitlan the end
of the military operations, although the enemies were
not totally beaten. The three grandsons of Motecuzoma,
the sons of his daughter Atotoztli, named Tizoc, Ahui-
tzotl, and Axayacatl, obeyed the order of their royal
grandfather, but Moquihuix went on fighting with his
troops alone and achieved an overwhelming victory.
This spoiled the relations between Moquihuix and
Axayacatl, his obedient brother-in-law (Torquemada
1975:1,161-2).
2. A quite different reason was the unhappy marital
life of Moquihuix and Axayacatl's sister. Moquihuix
mistreated his royal Aztec spouse and preferred relations
with a concubine, the daughter of a prominent fellow
party member in the Tlatelolcan Tepanec faction, named
Teconal (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1949:117-20).
Undoubtedly there were other and more basic reasons
for the rising confrontation. The strong economic posi-
tion of Tlatelolcan merchants and the leading market of
this city must have been a factor, for immediately after
the defeat of Moquihuix's faction, the guild of Tenoch-
can merchants became very important also and obtained

a leading position in the statewide corporative organi-
zation of merchants and markets. Moreover, the old
rivalry between the Tepanec-oriented nobles and the
Colhua-Aztec faction seems to have played a role again.
Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina and Tlacaelel had tried to
overcome the old differences by creating matrimonial
bonds between the two factions, but in the case of
Moquihuix, the result was not satisfactory in the long
run. In 1473 hostilities between the two factions broke
out. They began with a small incident in the market and
ended with the storming of the main temple of the city by
Axayacatl's troops. After its defeat, Tlatelolco was
governed by military commanders, and the traditional
chieftainship was reduced to the calpolli level.
At the time of the election of Motecuzoma Xocoyotzin
in 1502, an opposing faction favored his half-brother
Macuilmalinaltzin. Shortly after Motecuzoma came to
power this political question was solved by intrigue: the
new king plotted with his Tlaxcaltec counterparts in the
Flowery War, arranging for the capture and ritual sacri-
fice of his rival (Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975,11,179-81, Alva-
rado Tezozomoc 1949:137).
Various factional divisions within the Aztec royal
family manifested themselves during the Spanish con-
quest. At the beginning of contact with the Spaniards,
factions of soft-liners around Motecuzoma and Cacama
of Tetzcoco and of hard-liners around Cuitlahuac,
Cuauhtemoc, and Matlatzincatl immediately formed.
Later on Cacama changed sides, but by then it was too
late. Motecuzoma and Cacama were eliminated by the
Spaniards. Two sons of Motecuzoma were killed by the
Aztecs in the famous battle of the Noche Triste, but their
sister Tecuichpo was carefully rescued. She was first
made to marry her uncle Cuitlahuac and later her father's
nephew, Cuauhtemoc. In this way the last two kings legal-
ized their positions by inter-marriage with the opposed
factions. It was the traditional Mesoamerican solution
again! Matlatzincatl was cut down in the battle of
Otumpan after he had been named as Cihuacoatl, co-
ruling with Cuitlahuac. The latter died of smallpox after
eighty days of government at the end of 1520. Cuauhte-
moc succeeded him as tlatoani, and a descendant of
Tlacaelel, Tlacotzin, was named Cihuacoatl. In Feb-
ruary 1521 they eliminated a number of sons of the late
Motecuzoma with the intent of destroying the faction of
the soft-liners. Obviously they were successful, for the
political establishment remained firmly united until the
dreadful end of the empire in August 1521 and even
afterwards until the execution of the Aztec rulers in
Tabasco in 1525.
Cuauhtemoc had a Tlatelolcan mother. As son of
Divisions within the Aztec royal family 109
Ahuitzotl, who was the third of his brothers to occupy
the Aztec throne, under normal circumstances he would
never have been elected by the Colhua faction to succeed
his uncle, Cuitlahuac, since it was a strong Toltec and
Colhua tradition that, after the reigns of brothers, the
new generation of rulers was elected from the
descendants of the brother who had ruled first. This
meant that the children and grandchildren of Axayacatl
and Motecuzoma Xocoyotzin had better rights than
Cuauhtemoc. But there was another question. Cuauhte-
moc represented the more Tepanec-influenced city of
Tlatelolco and was therefore not much liked by the
Colhua-oriented faction in Tenochtitlan. Once more the
same solution was tried by his marriage with his niece
Tequichpo; Cuauhtemoc tried to bridge the gap between
the two factions. But confidence in the effectiveness of
this solution was limited. Therefore a number of
nephews and uncles had to be eliminated. This very
severe, and on this scale rather rare performance of
political murder, must have been caused by the excep-
tionally difficult and tense situation of the Spanish Con-
quest. In the agony of the Aztec empire, we may contem-
plate a dramatic exaggeration of the traditional political
tensions and factional disputes. It is interesting that in
the confrontation with the Spanish invaders the factions
that guarded the Tepanec traditions were on the side of
the hard-liners from the very beginning. The Colhua
factions, on the contrary, at first favoured overwhelm-
ingly the soft-liner approach to the Spanish problem.
Recapitulating, it may be concluded that in the
factional disputes within the Aztec royal family and the
political establishment in general the parties recruited
their supporters chiefly on the basis of groupings of
maternal relatives and frequently followed the main-
stream of the Colhua-Tepanec traditional opposition.
Most probably the factional conflicts within the royal
family contributed to interweaving the higher levels of
different ethnic groups and in this sense they had a
positive effect on Aztec political integration. In con-
sidering this point we have to remember immediately
the particular Mesoamerican system of family relations.
That system allowed the members of the noble families
to choose to affiliate with kin groups through either the
paternal or maternal linkages. Thus it was possible to
change sides when the political situation demanded it.
Therefore it is of special interest that after the Spanish
conquest the designation "Aztecatl," which was not
popular with the new rulers, almost completely dis-
appeared in a few decades. Because of the fact that this
designation was almost exclusively in use in higher
levels of society, it was easy for the "Aztecs" to dis-
110 Rudolf van Zantwijk
appear in the social group of their mothers. Only some
stubborn and proud individuals, with a strong feeling for
tradition and perhaps a surreptitious longing for restor-
ation of the pre-Spanish state, for example, historian-
prince Alvarado Tezozomoc, went on to identify them-
selves as "Aztec." And just as this occurred in colonial
times, it possibly happened time and again in the pre-
Spanish period. This does not mean that the various
corporate groups lost their cultural or subcultural
identity. Their own gods, their rituals, their festive cele-
brations, their own paraphernalia, their own traditions,
and their own organizational particularities were care-
fully cherished. Therefore ethnicity survived in spite of
the mingling of the blood and social adoption. By these
methods ethnic tension often would have been overcome
or would have died away because of the conflicting
loyalties of their chiefs and leaders. The Colhua-
Tepanec controversy, however, continued to exist in
colonial times and indigenous rulers of Tenochtitlan and
Tlacopan belonged sometimes to one and sometimes to
the other side.
Acknowledgments
I thank my dear friend and colleague Dr. Rob de Ridder
for his critical observations in relation to the English text
of this article.

10
Alliance and intervention in
Aztec imperial expansion
FREDERIC HICKS
The growth of the Empire of the Triple Alliance, or
Aztec empire, is recounted in a number of sources, and
all of them describe how it was built through wars of
conquest waged by the allied cities of Tenochtitlan
(modern Mexico City), Tetzcoco (Texcoco), and
Tlacopan (Tacuba). These conquests began with the
overthrow of the Tepanec empire in 1428, and did not
end until the Spanish conquest in 1519. The Mexica of
Tenochtitlan and their allies fought and vanquished
other states, and demanded tribute and submission as a
price for peace. Yet recent analyses have also given us a
picture of the empire as an alliance between the ruling
elites of the subject states and those of the imperial
centers, in which the former derived substantial benefits
from being in the empire. They were dependent on the
continued patronage of the imperial rulers (Brumfiel
1983), but they were given valuable gifts by these same
rulers, they participated with them in lavish feasts, they
received lands, and they could count on imperial support
as they exploited the common people of their own realms
(Smith 1986, Calnek 1982). They retained considerable
autonomy, including the command of their own military
force, and Hassig (1985:92ff) has characterized the
empire as "hegemonic."
A question immediately arises. If the ruling elites of
the subject states derived such benefits from being in the
empire, why was it necessary to wage war against them
to force them into it? Part of the answer may lie in the
processes by which states were incorporated into the
empire, and the ways they were politically restructured
once they were in it. In this paper, I will examine the
processes involved in the subjugation of three states:
Cuauhtitlan (in the modern State of Mexico north of
Mexico City), Tollan (modern Tula, Hidalgo), and
Tepeyacac (modern Tepeaca, Puebla). All of these were
in or near the core area of the empire, and were brought
under imperial domination relatively early: Cuauhtitlan
and Tollan during the reign of Itzcoatl (1427-40), who
initiated the cycle of conquests, and Tepeyacac during
the reign of his successor, Motecuzoma I (1440-69).
Military force was involved in all three cases, but it was
more than simply an attack by the imperial forces on
those of another state, resulting in the defeat and surren-
der of the latter. What we find is that the imperial forces
intervened in local or internal conflicts, supporting one
side or faction against the other.l If the intervention was
successful, it was the nobles of the favored faction, not
all nobles, who benefited from being in the empire, and
their benefits came at the expense not only of their
commoners, but also of other nobles. The favored
nobles, as Brumfiel (1983:273^1) points out, became the
most powerful in their domain, but also the most
dependent on the Triple Alliance, for only with its
backing could they retain their power.
The traditional historical sources such as Duran
(1967), Alvarado Tezozomoc (1975), Alva Ixtlilxochitl
(1975-7), Torquemada (1975), and others commonly
cited in studies of the empire, were written from an
imperial perspective and focus on the military aspects of
conquest. They provide very few data on the local poli-
tical dynamics which were equally important. For that,
we must turn to sources from the subject states, or
written from their standpoint. We have relatively few
such sources, and the three cases described here may not
be typical. Yet an empire as extended as that of the
Aztec, in which the population of the subject polities
eventually came to be so much greater than that of the
imperial centers, must have had to rely heavily on "indi-
rect rule," as did the British and French empires of the
late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and indi-
rect rule requires a cooperative native elite in the subject
states. The three cases illustrate one way in which con-
quest led to indirect rule and a cooperative elite was
brought into being.
Although indirect or "hegemonic," Aztec rule was, in
Doyle's terms, "formal" rather than "informal" (Doyle
1986:36-40 and passim). There was little ambiguity as to
whether a given polity was or was not part of the empire.
Subject states had specific obligations to the imperial
centers that other states did not have: they were expected
to provide military assistance when asked, to furnish
draft labor {coatequitl) for occasional special projects,
and to participate with the imperial rulers in periodic
"consumption rituals." In addition, certain communities
111
 112 Frederic Hicks
of commoners were designated to provide goods, labor,
and/or services, as tribute to the imperial centers or
elsewhere as directed, under the supervision of a staff of
imperial tribute collectors or calpixqueh (sing, calpixqui).
While the rulers of subject states doubtless enforced this
obligation of their people, I believe there is evidence
that, at least in the core area of the empire, this tribute
was not given by the entire population of the subject
state, but only by some of the commoners, and that it
was not even handled by nobles of the local ruling
dynasty (Hicks 1984a: 156; 1984b:242-3). In any case, by
these criteria, Tollan, Cuauhtitlan, and Tepeyacac were
clearly in the empire.
Tollan
The fullest data on Tollan as part of the empire come
from the proceedings of a sixteenth-century legal case
involving, on the one hand, Don Pedro Moctezuma
Tlacahuepantzin and his mother Dona Maria Miahua-
xochitl, and on the other, the principales (Indian nobles)
of Tollan (AGN Vinculos 256/1; a brief but significant
portion of these proceedings has been published, trans-
lated from the Latin, by Rosas Herrera [1946]). Other
sources provide some additional data, but Late Post-
classic Tollan receives very little mention in the standard
historical sources.
In the proceedings of this legal case, Don Pedro and
Dona Maria describe the establishment of the first
formal relations between Tollan and Tenochtitlan,
which occurred well before the formation of the Triple
Alliance. According to their account, some time in the
fourteenth century a king of Tollan, whose name is given
as Zozoma teuctli, sent emissaries to Tenochtitlan,
where Acamapichtli then reigned, and proposed to
"tomar amistad y parentesco" with him (i.e., to form a
marital alliance). The proposal was accepted, and Aca-
mapichtli's son Cuetlachtzin married Zozoma's daugh-
ter Xiloxochitl and went to live in Tollan, where he was
given ten estates by Zozoma. After the death of his
father-in-law, Cuetlachtzin became king of Tollan
(AGN Vinculos 256/1: ff. 15r-16r).
When the sources give the succession of kings in the
Late Postclassic dynasty of Tollan, they all include Cuet-
lachtzin, as either the second or third king. The name of
his predecessor is given as Zozoma teuctli by both sides
in the sixteenth-century case at some points (AGN Vin-
culos 256/1: ff. 15r, 15v, 319v), but as Tochtzin by the
principales of Tollan at another point in the case (Rosas
Herrera 1946:159) and in the Anales de Tula (Barlow
1949), which states only that he died in 1394. The
Cronica Mexicayotl (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1975: par.
122-3) lists an Ometochtli, which is probably the same
person, but explains that he was a son of Acamapichtli
who had been sent to Tollan to be its king, but died as
soon as he got there, so his brother Cuetlachtzin took his
place. This source lists an Ixehuatzin as the first king,
preceding Ometochtli.
I would infer from this that Zozoma teuctli was not
actually a king (tlahtoani), and that his mission in
Tenochtitlan was to establish a legitimate royal dynasty
in Tollan, which could only be done by marriage with a
royal house whose legitimacy was well established.
Tenochtitlan was at this time not a major power, only a
subordinate ally of Azcapotzalco, but it did have its own
royal lineage, and many kings and lords of the region
sought marital ties with it {Relacion de la Genealogia
1971:275). However, if the Ixehuatzin listed in the
Cronica Mexicayotl (but not in other sources) was
indeed reigning at that time, Zozoma's mission may
indicate some sort of factional dispute or other political
instability.
Tollan's incorporation into the empire began almost
immediately after the overthrow of the Tepanec and the
establishment of the Triple Alliance, when the Tenochca
king Itzcoatl intervened militarily in the affairs of
Tollan. We are told that in the time of the fourth king of
Tollan, whose name was Acamapichtli (not to be con-
fused with the earlier Tenochca king of that name), there
was discord among the nobles, and civil war. Itzcoatl
sent his soldiers to aid one faction, and when it was over
Itzcoatl had possession of lands in fifteen named places
in the Tollan region. These were the ten estates that
Cuetlachtzin had received, plus five others (Rosas
Herrera 1946:159). Acamapichtli reigned from 1431 until
1436, and according to the Anales de Tula (Barlow
1949), there followed an interregnum of seven years,
during which Tollan had no king.
It is too bad we do not know more about the
"discord" during Acamapichtli's reign. The fact that his
rule was followed by an interregnum suggests that the
faction Itzcoatl favored was not that of the king (it was
not uncommon for the Aztec to depose a ruler and
replace him with a regent). In any case, the intervention
had the effect of bringing Tollan into the empire. It was
done not by waging a war of conquest against the united
forces of Tollan, but by aiding one faction over another
in an internal dispute. The faction that emerged victo-
rious owed its victory to Tenochtitlan. It is not surpris-
ing that Itzcoatl should have been given many estates, as
a reward or a price for his help, from which he could
draw tribute. To be sure, two-thirds of these estates had
 Alliance in Aztec imperial expansion 113

belonged to his own brother Cuetlachtzin (Itzcoatl was had already begun the revolt that would topple the
also a son of Acampichtli of Tenochtitlan), but Cuet- Tepanec empire and give rise to the empire of the
lachtzin lived in Tollan, and when these estates served Triple Alliance. Troops under Nezahualcoyotl of Tetz-
him, their harvests and the services of their commoners coco entered Toltitlan and drove the Tepanec from
did not leave Tollan; serving Itzcoatl, they presumably Cuauhtitlan and the surrounding region {Anales de
did. It is also to be inferred that from that time on, Cuauhtitlan 1938: par. 941-3; Alva Ixtlilxochitl 1975-
the kings of Tollan needed the continued backing of 7:1, 384).
Tenochtitlan in order to stay in power. In return for such After the defeat of the Tepanec, Tecocohuatzin
support, they could hardly refuse the occasional request assumed control of Cuauhtitlan, and began a restruc-
to provide military help, and did provide it when the turing of his realm, but he died in 1433, after ruling for
empire later went to war against Coaixtlahuaca (Duran only four years. His successor, Ayactlacatzin, divided
1967: chapter 22). up some of the land of the city so as to reward people
with land grants. He took some lands for himself, and
evidently also set aside some to produce tribute for the
Cuauhtitlan empire, because men from Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco
The only detailed source of data on Cuauhtitlan is the came to oversee the placement of boundary markers
well-known Anales de Cuauhtitlan (1938), although it is {Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1938: par. 968-74). Significantly,
mentioned occasionally in other sources. Hodge (1984) these lands were in Otlazpan, Tepoxalco, and Tehuil-
has presented an excellent synthesis of the material on loyocan, whose leaders had supported the Tepanec, but
Cuauhtitlan, but she does not examine in detail the Huehuetoca was spared, as a reward for its loyalty. The
process by which it was brought into the empire. lands taken became coatlalli, a term that Lehmann (in
Cuauhtitlan had been fighting the Tepanec of Azca- Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1938:234) relates to coatequitl
potzalco off and on for twenty-two years before the (draft labor). I infer that by this process, lands were set
Tepanec finally pushed their way into the city in 1430, aside to provide tribute for Tenochtitlan (and also,
defeated it, and planted magueyes in its market plaza. interestingly, for Tlatelolco, which was still a separate
Prior to this, Cuauhtitlan's king Xaltemoctzin, who city at this time), in addition to lands the king of
ruled from 1390 until his death at the hands of the Cuauhtitlan took for himself. This land-taking appar-
Tepanec in 1408, had brought many towns under his ently imposed hardship on the nobility of the affected
control, including Tepotzotlan, Tepoxaco, Toltepec, towns as well as on the commoners, since Huehuetoca
Coyotepec, Cuauhtlaapan, Huehuetoca, Citlaltepec, was spared as a reward. As time went on, additional
Tzompanco, and Otlazpan. Some of these had formerly lands in Cuauhtitlan were taken and distributed to
been subject to the city of Xaltocan. In 1395, he placed Mexica nobles, and eventually even Huehuetoca lost
titled noblemen as governors over many of these places lands. The Mexica rulers also made changes in Cuauh-
{Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1938: par. 469-73, 629-41). When titlan's political structure, bringing it more firmly
the Tepanec war broke out, most of these towns and into the political and economic system dominated by
others in the region supported the Tepanec, and when Tenochtitlan {Anales de Cuauhtitlan 1938: par. 1022,
people of Cuauhtitlan tried to flee from the invaders, 1264-71; Hodge 1991).
they were refused asylum everywhere but in Huehuetoca. As was the case with Tollan, Tenochtitlan and Tetz-
There the king of Cuauhtitlan, whose name was Tezo- coco (it was not yet a triple alliance) did not actually
zomoc (not to be confused with the Tepanec king of that conquer Cuauhtitlan. They didn't have to; they made an
name), committed suicide {Anales de Cuauhtitlan alliance with Tecocohuatzin, which was respected by his
1945:43-4; Hodge 1984:64^8). successor Ayactlacatzin, to support him not only
With this background, it is not surprising that when against the Tepanec, but also against those nobles in
Tenochtitlan and Tetzcoco joined forces to overthrow Cuauhtitlan who had sided with the Tepanec. As a
the Tepanec, they found a ready ally in Cuauhtitlan. reward, the rulers of Tenochtitlan (and probably also of
After the death of their king Tezozomoc, the people of Tetzcoco) were given lands that had formerly served
Cuauhtitlan named a new king, Tecocohuatzin, and those nobles. This must have exacerbated tensions
installed him in the palace but, says the Anales, they did within Cuauhtitlan, making Ayactlacatzin and his fol-
not inform Azcapotzalco, only Tenochtitlan. I would lowers all the more dependent on the empire to retain
infer that it was done in consultation with the king of their power.
Tenochtitlan who, in alliance with the king of Tetzcoco,
 114 Frederic Hicks

divided Cuauhtinchan into five states, giving to the king

Tepeyacac
of Tepeyacac some towns that had formerly belonged to
Before the Aztec conquest, Tepeyacac was part of other kings. These towns were charged with producing
Cuauhtinchan, a loosely structured confederation whose tribute for the empire (compare the similar procedure in
rulers recognized the hegemony of Cholula, where they Cuauhtitlan), and presumably it was the responsibility
received their investiture (Historia Tolteca-Chichimeca of the kings of Tepeyacac, who were cooperative and
1976: par. 372, Olivera 1978:86, Reyes Garcia 1978:81). reliable, to enforce this obligation {Historia Tolteca-
The accounts of Alvarado Tezozomoc (1975: chapter 27) Chichimeca 1976:par. 367-79, 384-8, Reyes Garcia
and Duran (1967: chapter 18) give one version of the 1978:32, 35-8, Olivera 1978:80, 88-9, Martinez 1984:52).
conquest of Tepeyacac, but many other sources are also But they did not have to oppress their own peasants to
available. For the Cuauhtinchan area in general we have do so. The commoners obligated to do the actual work
the Historia Tolteca-Chichimeca (1976), and a detailed of producing the tribute were not their traditional sub-
study by Reyes Garcia (1977) based on this and other jects, but subjects of other Cuauhtinchan lords. Those
documents, many of which he has published (1978). lords lost control over many of the peasants who would
Olivera (1978) has a study of Tecalli (Tecalco) based on otherwise have formed part of their labor force. The
archival material, while Tepeyacac itself has been the chronicles record the displeasure of at least one Cuauh-
subject of especiallyfinestudies by Martinez (1984; n.d.), tinchan lord (Historia Tolteca-Chichimeca 1976:par.
which also make use of many unpublished sources. 384); they also tell us that the Mexica placed several
While Alvarado Tezozomoc and Duran explain the con- lords in positions of power in Cuauhtinchan, which
quest by their favorite causus belli, the mistreatment of likewise displeased others (Reyes Garcia 1978:87, 98).
merchants, these more detailed local sources show that it As a result of this and other measures, such as the
was really more complicated than that. establishment by the Mexica of an important market
What seems to have happened was that, from around there, Tepeyacac came to be the principal city of the
1458, one of the kings of Tepeyacac had been carrying region, and its kings the most powerful (Martinez
out aggressive actions against other kings of Cuauhtin- 1984:52, 78-9). But there must have been resentment
chan. Acatzinco was reduced to dependent status, and against them from many quarters, and only with the
Tecalco, the city of Cuauhtinchan, and Totomihuacan support of the Triple Alliance could they retain their
were attacked. Finally, leaders of Cuauhtinchan and power.
Tecalco went to Tenochtitlan to ask for military aid
against Tepeyacac. The help was granted, and in 1466
Tepeyacac was defeated (Martinez 1984:46-7, 51, Histo- Other cases
ria Tolteca-Chichimeca 1976:220-4). Martinez (n.d.) These three cases are certainly not unique, but we have
thinks it may have capitulated without a fight, and that, less satisfactory data on what appear to have been
if so, it was possibly because when the Mexica armies similar processes in other regions. According to Alva-
arrived, its forces were awayfightingother enemies else- rado Tezozomoc (1975:chapter 47; cf. Duran 1967:chap-
where. Although I have no evidence, I would like to hold ter 35), the conquest by the Triple Alliance of much of
open the possibility that they made a deal with the the Toluca valley began as a response by King Axayacatl
Mexica, because although they were called in to help of Tenochtitlan to a request from the king of Tenancingo
Cuauhtinchan against Tepeyacac, it was Tepeyacac that for help against the kings of Toluca and Matlatzinco,
eventually emerged as the principal city of the region who were menacing him. Duran adds that when this king
under the Aztec. went to Tenochtitlan to make his request, he presented
A Mexica calpixqui was placed in Tepeyacac, to head himself as Axayacatl's "loyal vassal," suggesting he was
a tributary province that came to include all of Cuauh- ready to accept that status in return for help. (There are
tinchan, and Tepeyacac was charged with providing other, somewhat different, accounts of this episode,
labor and goods as tribute. But the kings of Tepeyacac which are summarized in Quezada Ramirez 1972:46-9.)
had trouble providing the tribute demanded, because The conquest of Coaixtlahuaca, in the Mixteca, is pre-
there were no lands set aside for this purpose. They went sented in the "Cronica X" histories (Duran 1967:chapter
to Tenochtitlan to ask Axayacatl, who by this time was 22; Alvarado Tezozomoc 1975:chapter 33) as having
the Tenochca king, to make available the necessary been brought on by the killing of Mexican merchants,
lands. Axayacatl sent five Mexica noblemen to Cuauh- but Torquemada (1975:bk. 2, chapters 48ff) tells a differ-
tinchan to measure out the lands needed. They also ent story. He indicates there was some resentment

against Coaixtlahuaca's King Atonal for provoking the
war and bringing in Tlaxcallans and Huexotzinca as
allies; after the Aztec victory, Atonal was killed by some
of his own people, who then went to Tenochtitlan and
offered themselves as tributaries of Motecuzoma I (who
was then the Mexica king). Torquemada's account sug-
gests the possibility that there may have been pre-
existing internal divisions that the Aztec exploited,
though we do not hear of them until after the Aztec
conquest.
Summary and implications
The three cases we have examined illustrate one way the
Aztec were able to bring subject states into the empire
without waging an all-out war against their united
forces, and one way they were able to get a compliant
local elite. In these cases, conquest began with an alli-
ance between the Aztec rulers and the leaders of one
faction in a local or internal dispute. Assuming the
alliance was victorious, this leader became the most
powerful lord in his subject state. He was, of course,
dependent on the empire to hold on to his power, but he
was still treated as an ally, not as a conquered subord-
inate. To be sure, it was an alliance between two parties
of very unequal power, and in such cases alliance may
often be hard to distinguish from hegemony. And in any
case, the alliances were bilateral: each local ruler was
allied individually with the imperial ruler, so while the
imperial ruler had many allies, each local ruler had only
one.
The alliances were, of course, only between elites
(Smith 1986). Not only did such alliances enable the elite
to exploit their commoners more intensely, by providing
armed support for a lord whose people were tempted to
rebel, but they virtually required them to do so. The
imperial rulers demanded tribute, in goods and labor,
which had to be provided by these commoners, as a task
added to that of providing for their own subsistence.
Moreover, it is likely that participation by the local elite
in consumption rituals in Tenochtitlan required ever
greater expenditures of wealth, which they had to extract
from their commoners.
To the extent that the Aztec empire expanded by
means of such alliances, it is logical that it should rely on
"indirect rule" and take the form that Hassig (1985)
called "hegemonic." That is, the imperial centers exer-
cised control over states that were allowed to retain their
own native political leaders and their own laws and
customs, once the imperial forces had made such
changes in their political leadership and structure as
Alliance in Aztec imperial expansion 115
were necessary to insure their continued loyalty and
cooperation. Over time, the Aztec often imposed
additional changes, and made additional land redistri-
butions, thereby binding the subject states ever more
tightly into the economic and political structure domi-
nated by Tenochtitlan.
Of course not all conquests took this form; such
golden opportunities for intervention did not always
present themselves. Sometimes it was necessary to wage
a bitter war of conquest against a united enemy. Chalco
provides the best-known example of a state where the
Aztec found no highly placed collaborators, and had to
wage a long and bitter war against a united resistance.
When victory wasfinallyachieved, the Aztec deposed all
local rulers, and for twenty-two years Chalco was ruled
by a series of lesser nobles who were appointed by the
Tenochca king, and who served as cuauhtlahtoqueh or
regents. Yet Chalco was eventually made into a cooper-
ative client state, by changing the political structure and
the lines of royal succession so that when its royal seats
were finally restored the kings that occupied them were
loyal and compliant (Chimalpahin 1889:113, 152-6,
Durand-Forest 1981:164-7, Hodge 1984:45-6, 51-2).
Rebellions were, of course, fairly frequent, and many
states had to be re-conquered. For one thing, lands and
commoners assigned to serve the empire might otherwise
be serving the local ruler, and after a long period of
internal peace and increasing prosperity and power,
these rulers might be motivated to abrogate their obli-
gations to the empire, and re-direct the labor of the
commoners to their own benefit, as the king of Cuauhna-
huac (Cuernavaca) did in 1452 (Smith 1986:79, 82).
Moreover, despite the material benefits to a local ruler
that came from integration into the empire, it required
accepting a clearly subordinate status, and the loss of the
dignity he or his predecessors previously enjoyed as
independent kings. In addition, the strategy of inter-
vening on the side of one noble faction against others
meant that some nobles suffered a loss of lands, subjects,
and power under the empire, and must often have been
motivated to rebel, against both their local ruler and the
empire, again after a period of peace led them to think
they might be successful. There may also have been
rebellions by commoners, provoked by intensified
exploitation. Direct evidence of this is negligible, but
such rebellions have in many times and places taken the
form of commoners rallying behind a leader, often a
high-status nobleman building a power base, who
promises to improve their condition if he wins (Adas
1981, Scott 1985:333). These would be hard to detect in
the kind of historical sources we have for Mesoamerica.
116 Frederic Hicks
In summary, most if not all empires must develop a
cooperative native elite in the states that they conquer,
and the way this is done varies with the way the empire is
formed. In the cases examined here, a key ingredient was
the alliance between the rulers of the Triple Alliance and
some, but not all, of the rulers of the states that would be
incorporated into the empire. These states were brought
quite gently into the empire, and one might argue that
they were not really conquered at all. Their rulers were
simply given military aid, in return for which they gave
the lands, labor, gifts, and occasional military service
that their patrons, the imperial rulers, requested. As time
passed, the Triple Alliance rulers exercised more and
more control over the subject states, but so long as local
rulers were cooperative they enjoyed wealth and power
within their domain. The alliance ingredient was not
present in all cases, and when it was not, true wars of
conquest took place. States brought into the empire in
that way may have been treated differently at first, but
the case of Chalco shows that even so, an effort was
made through political restructuring to create the form
of an alliance.
Notes
1 Many of the polities of ancient Mexico were rather
loose confederations, headed by several kings who
often had their headquarters in different cities (Hicks
1986:42-5); hence, the difference between an internal
and an external conflict was not always very sharp.

11
Political factions in the
transition from Classic to
Postclassic in the Mixteca
Alta
BRUCE E. BYLAND and
JOHNM. D. POHL
Introduction
Discussion of factional politics often focuses on its divi-
sive and transient nature. Factions are said to appear for
the purpose of contesting particular issues (Lewellen
1983:109) and to disintegrate when these issues are
resolved. Relative calm then ensues until the next contest
when divisive factions will form again.
But factions can produce both conflict and cooper-
ation. A faction is, after all, an alliance forged by indi-
viduals to improve their ability to compete (Brumfiel,
Chapter 1). Furthermore, factions are not necessarily
transient entities; they may occur as stable associations
capable of addressing a range of issues. Such were the
small, pre-Columbian states of the Terminal Classic
through the Late Postclassic in the Mixteca Alta.
Within the Mixteca Alta at the time of conquest, there
were many largely autonomous Mixtec "kingdoms"
(Dahlgren 1954; Spores 1967; Caso 1977-9; Pohl in
press). Some of these polities dominated and influenced
each other; for example, powerful Tilantongo domi-
nated the decision making of several other communities.
In some ways, these towns were like vassal states, but in
other ways they remained autonomous. They had their
own hereditary rulers, and they contracted separate alli-
ances (Pohl 1991, in press).
Paradoxically, Tilantongo, the most powerful state in
the Mixteca at the time of the Spanish conquest, was a
small, architecturally unimpressive site (Caso 1938).
How was so much power concentrated in a place which
had such a small population and so little substantial
public architecture? Tilantongo exercised its power
indirectly, through the construction of a regional alli-
ance system that ordered social relations throughout the
Mixteca Alta. It was not the capital of a centralized
state. As de Tocqueville (1956:64-5) recognized, the
centralization of some governmental functions does not
require the centralization of all governmental functions.
In the Mixteca Alta, connections between various towns,
faction-like units, or peer polities provided a framework
of mutual obligation in some aspects of government but
did not impinge upon others.
The absence of a single central authority did not plunge
the Mixteca Alta into the abyss of factional strife. The
Postclassic period was not a period of political chaos, end-
ing only when order was imposed by the Aztec state.
Rather, the Classic to Postclassic transition saw the
excision of central control from the great Classic centers
and its refiguring within small Postclassic confederations.
Factionalism in the Mixtec historical codices
The Mixtec codices are principally genealogical
accounts, and as such they have been studied as histo-
ries, king lists, and assertions of rights to rulership (Caso
1960). We view the documents as recording the standing
obligations between rulers based upon mutually recog-
nized past events and genealogical ties. The stories were
told to "fix" in ritual terms the status of long-term,
complex political interrelationships following the
breakup of Classic-period centralized authority, and to
document the distribution of that authority among the
decentralized groups which became Postclassic small
states. This is apparent in the composition of Mixtec
codices which depict large numbers of people, in con-
trast to the composition of documents from the Valley of
Mexico, which show only a few individuals, each the
ruler of a town. Thus, although events seem to focus on
such personages as the patron deity 9 Wind Flint Helmet
or the Lord 8 Deer Jaguar Claw, these individuals are
merely the foci of political actions which involve numer-
ous Postclassic communities. The genealities legitimated
institutionalized political affiliation and mutual inter-
dependence among the decentralized elite.
Our archaeological surveys in the Tilantongo and
Jaltepec regions provide new data for interpreting
the codices, particularly the Codex Zouche-Nuttall
(Fig. 11.1). This document can now be interpreted as a
record of indigenous factionalism as perceived by the
Postclassic Mixtec.
Three episodes of factionalism
Three episodes of factional politics in the Tilantongo-
Jaltepec region are of particular interest because they
can be traced in both the Codex Zouche-Nuttall and the
117
 118 Bruce E. Byland and John M. D. Pohl

Nochixtlan
Valley

Fig. 11.1 Southern Nochixtlan Valley showing locations of places mentioned in text. Our survey area is indicated by
a line enclosing Tilantongo and Jaltepec.

archaeological record. The Codex Zouche-Nuttall begins
with a lengthy discussion of the War in Heaven, which
saw the final dissolution of the Classic period political
geography of the region. Next, the rise to power of Lord 8
Deer Jaguar Claw in Tilantongo established Postclassic
patterns of power and authority. Finally, the genealogi-
cal pages of the Zouche-Nuttall Obverse connect these
earlier events with the Late Postclassic period when the
codex was painted. During this period, relations between
the Mixteca Alta and the Valley of Oaxaca were re-
established. We will focus on the first and third episodes.
Episode 1: the War of Heaven
The War of Heaven is shown on pages 3 and 4 and pages
20 and 21 of the Zouche-Nuttall Obverse and on pages 3
and 4 of the Codex Bodley. An insightful analysis of this
conflict has been published by Emily Rabin (1979). The
war lasted at least twenty-eight years. Although the
major protagonists are not clearly defined, there were
four factions of belligerents.
One faction was dominated by 8 Wind Flint Eagle, a
ruler of Suchixtlan-Hill of the Monkey, the archaeo-
logical site of Cerro Jazmin in the northern Nochixtlan
Valley (Spores 1972, Smith 1973a, Byland and Pohl in
press). Lord 8 Wind is also associated with the Hill of the
Rain Deity, the archaeological site of Yucunudahui
(Caso 1938, Spores 1972, Jansen 1982, see Fig. 11.1).
Lord 8 Wind is the patriarch who, on the first page
of Zouche-Nuttall, is given two places of birth: along
the rivers of Apoala (Jansen 1982) and in a cave near
the village whose name in the codex is Red and White
Bundle. This apparently alludes to two myths con-
cerning the origin of the Mixtec people. In the late
sixteenth century, the Dominican, Antonio de los
Reyes (1976 [1593]: i-ii), recorded that the Mixtec
people were born from trees growing near rivers at
Apoala (see Jansen 1982). But he also relates another
origin story in which the "Men of the Earth," the Tay
Nuhu, who were the "true Mixtec," emerged from "the
Center of the Earth" called Anuhu, meaning "Place of
the Nuhu."
In his role as patriarch, Lord 8 Wind is depicted on
Zouche-Nuttall 2 as a Yaha Yahui priest with his eagle
(Yahd) costume and a maguey plant (Yavui or Yahui)
(Pohl in press). He is attended by four groups of four
lords as he founds the new institutions of authority. He
is awarded ten subject communities, and lights the first
fire in the year 3 Reed.
A second faction was led by 12 Lizard who was a lord
of Hill of the Wasp, the archaeological site of Yucu
Yoco in the southern Nochixtlan Valley (Pohl and
From Classic to Postclassic in the Mixteca Alta 119
Byland 1990, Byland and Pohl 1990, in press; Pohl 1991;
see Fig. 11.1). Lord 12 Lizard's involvement is indicated
by the depiction of him, together with his wife, 12
Vulture, and their sons, 4 House and 3 Monkey, as
mummified sacrificial victims on Zouche-Nuttall 20. The
Zouche-Nuttall passages indicate that 12 Lizard's
kingdom, Hill of the Wasp, was allied with other com-
munities including Red and White Bundle (Huachino),
Place of Flints (Ndu Nu'uchi) and Hill of the Enclosure
(Yucu Yuhua). All these communities lie in the southern
Nochixtlan Valley (Caso 1960, Pohl and Byland 1990,
Byland and Pohl in press).
The third group was the Nuhu or Stone Men (Pohl in
press), depicted by multicolored striping on the body,
horns, large round eyes, and fangs. The Stone Men were
possibly led by Lord 9 Wind Stone Skull who bears the
distinctive body coloration and the volutes of the Stone
Men on Zouche-Nuttall 23 and Vindobonensis Reverse
4. In Codex Bodley 4 V, Lord 9 Wind Stone Skull is
shown as thefirstruler of Tilantongo. In Codex Bodley 3
IV, he is shown as either the brother or the ally of 1
Monkey, who was the first ruler of Mitlatongo (Rela-
ciones Geograficas (1579-81) 1984:237-8).
A fourth group are the Red and White striped people,
shown descending from Place of Heaven on Zouche-
Nuttall 21 just before being captured by the culture hero,
9 Wind Flint Helmet. This group is not yet identified
with a specific locale.
Reyes (1976 [1593]:i-ii) states that the first Mixtec
kings warred with and conquered the "Men of the
Earth." M. E. Smith (1973b:65-71) identifies the Men of
the Earth as the Stone Men in the codices. This suggests
that 8 Wind Flint Eagle and 9 Stone Skull were major
protagonists in the hostilities. And yet, archaeologically,
the impact of the war was greatest on the second faction,
a group of allied towns located in the southern Nochix-
tlan Valley (Fig. 11.2).
Our survey revealed that all these sites share ceramics
that are indicative of the political power of Monte Alban
(Feinman 1980). Surrounding these sites, the abundance
of Valley of Oaxaca style G-35 pottery is greater than in
any other part of the Mixteca Alta. The G-35 ceramics
are diagnostic of the Classic period Las Flores phase in
this area. Elsewhere in the Mixteca, this phase is char-
acterized by orange-painted cream wares or Teotihuacan
Thin Orange (Spores 1972; Byland 1980). G-35 pottery is
rare in the northern Nochixtlan Valley (Spores 1972) and
in the Tamazulapan and Tejupan regions (Byland 1980),
and it is uncommon from the area around Tilantongo
(Byland and Pohl in press). These ceramic distributions
suggest that the rulers of the southern Nochixtlan Valley
 120 Bruce E. Byland and John M. D. Pohl

Yucu Yoco
Hill of the Wasp Hill of Anute
Yucu Yuhua Hill of Jaltepec
Hill of the Enclosure

Huachino
Red and White Bundle

Ndu Yuchi/ Toto Cuisi

Hill of Flints/ White Rock

Fig. 11.2 Las Flores Phase (Classic period) occupation of Tilantongo and Jaltepec. Place of Flints fNdu Nu'uchij,
Hill of the Wasp fYucu YocoJ, and Red and White Bundle fHuachinoj were allies in the War of Heaven. The war
was fought against the "Men of the Earth." Both Hill of the Wasp and Hill of the Flints were abandoned at the end of
the Las Flores Phase.

had strong connections with Monte Alban during the
Classic period.
This suggestion is supported architecturally. Struc-
tures at Huachino include a distinctly Zapotec two-
chambered temple, a design which first appeared at
Monte Alban in MA II, 100 BC-AD 100 (Flannery and
Marcus 1976:217). Such temples are unknown elsewhere
in the Mixteca Alta; however, all the most important
Formative and Classic period sites in the Valley of
Oaxaca have this temple form. Its occurrence in the
Mixteca Alta suggests a political connection between
Huachino and Monte Alban during MA Illb/IV.

The codices indicate that the War of Heaven resulted
in the defeat of Hill of the Wasp and its ruling lineage.
The place sign virtually disappears from the subsequent
500 years of genealogical reckoning. Archaeologically,
Hill of the Wasp was abandoned, and the Hill of Flints
nearly so. With the defeat of these two major allies, Red
and White Bundle was weakened, but it maintained its
links to the Valley of Oaxaca.
The War of Heaven was resolved through the valida-
tion of the rights of the two surviving lords. On Zouche-
Nuttall 3 and 5, four lords visit a Stone Man named 5
Flower to make offerings and pay him reverence; a
similar group of four lords do the same for 8 Wind
(Mark King, pers. comm.). After this, 8 Wind is cere-
monially blessed by the rain deity Dzahui. He then
appears seated with his wife at Hill of the Monkey/Cerro
Jazmin/Suchixtlan.
By the end of the War of Heaven, Tilantongo allied
itself with the survivors of Hill of the Wasp through the
marriage of 9 Wind Stone Skull to Lady 5 Reed (Bodley
4 V). In a similar fashion, Red and White Bundle formed
an alliance though the marriage of 12 Lizard Arrow Legs
to 5 Reed's sister, 5 Jaguar (Bodley 4 III). In the
aftermath of the war, 8 Wind and 9 Wind arranged a
marriage between their children, Lady 2 Serpent and
Lord 10 Flower, thus uniting Tilantongo and Suchixtlan/
Cerro Jazmin (Bodley 5-6 V) (Fig. 11.3). Herrera
(1947:168) describes such arranged marriages between
noble lineages, saying that a consultation among the
"old ones" was first held to advise whether the match
was proper.
This statement suggests regularized patterns of alli-
ance making. Even though alliances are formulated by
the "old ones" in order to bind themselves into a system
of mutual obligation and exchange, the full fruition of
this exchange does not emerge until their grandchild-
ren's generation (Hassig 1988). If during the lives of the
second generation, the children perceive alternative
opportunities that could better serve their own situation,
they may block the alliance established by their parents
and establish new alliances and new lines of inheritance.
If this occurs, conflict could then be expected between
the parents and their children. As we shall see, conflict
did occur between the grandchildren of Lord 8 Wind.
Lord 8 Wind strengthened the alliance between Tilan-
tongo and Suchixtlan/Cerro Jazmin by marrying a
second daughter, Lady 9 Wind to Lord 10 Eagle from
Tilantongo, the son of 10 Flower and 2 Serpent, and
hence 8 Wind's grandson. This couple took up residence
at Jaltepec in order to extend the control of 8 Wind.
Lord 10 Eagle's older brother, 12 Lizard (not the same
From Classic to Post classic in the Mixteca Alta 121
person as 12 Lizard of Hill of the Wasp) succeeded to
rule at Tilantongo. Lord 12 Lizard's son, 5 Movement,
married his father's brother's daughter, 4 Death, the
daughter of Lord 10 Eagle of Jaltepec. This couple was
seated at an undistinguished place sign, attached to the
sign of Jaltepec. This marriage further reinforced the
alliance between Tilantongo and Jaltepec and provided
continued support to the alliance between Tilantongo
and Suchixtlan/Cerro Jazmin.
Lord 5 Movement married a second time, moving to
Red and White Bundle, a kingdom with no previous
history of marital alliance to Tilantongo (Bodley 6 II).
Lord 5 Movement is also shown seated at Hill of the
Jewels with an arrow stuck into the place sign, indicating
that this locale was conquered (Zouche-Nuttall 24).
Whichever place was his main abode, the Red and White
Bundle affiliation parallels a later Jaltepec and Red and
White Bundle alliance formalized by the marriage of 10
Eagle's daughter, Lady 6 Monkey, and 11 Wind, a lord
from Red and White Bundle.
Lord 5 Movement of Tilantongo, who married into
Jaltepec and affiliated with Red and White Bundle, had a
son named 2 Rain Twenty Jaguars (Caso 1960). Lord 2
Rain Twenty Jaguars thus had a legitimate claim to
Tilantongo since his grandfather, 12 Lizard, was lord
there, and he may have claimed Jaltepec, since his father
married into the ruling lineage there. But Lord 10 Eagle
and Lady 9 Wind produced no surviving male heirs
(their three sons were sacrificed, as depicted in the Codex
Selden 5-6). Perhaps 2 Rain's claim to Tilantongo had
been sullied by his father's relationship with Red and
White Bundle. When he was six years old, 2 Rain Twenty
Jaguars was directed by the patriarch 8 Wind into an
alliance with sixteen lords at Ball Court Hill (also part of
the Monkey/Cerro Jazmin/Suchixtlan compound place
sign). Three days later a battle was fought at Jaltepec
(Zouche-Nuttall 8, and Selden 6). Lord 2 Rain Twenty
Jaguars was represented in this battle by 8 Wind's son, 3
Lizard Jeweled Hair. The attack on Jaltepec was repul-
sed and 3 Lizard was captured. Lord 10 Eagle had
effectively denied any claims his great-nephew, 2 Rain,
and his grandfather/father-in-law, 8 Wind, might have
had to Jaltepec, despite the alliances that 8 Wind had
arranged between Tilantongo and Hill of the Monkey/
Cerro Jazmin/Suchixtlan. Lord 10 Eagle of Jaltepec then
forged an alliance with Red and White Bundle through
the marriage of his daughter 6 Monkey to 11 Wind. This
alliance secured for 10 Eagle a close connection to the
powerful center of Monte Alban or its successor.
Spores (1974) argues that marriages between ruling
families were not fixed by prescriptive laws but were
 122 Bruce E. Byland and John M. D. Pohl
9 wind- 9 5 Reed 8 Wind
(Tilantongo) (Hill of the Wasp)
10 Flower.
1
9 4 Flint -12 Lizard 10 Eagle _
9 4 Alligator (Tilantongo) (Jaltepec)
> 2 Gras! -5 Movement- ~$ 4 Death
(Jaltepec)
2 Rain
8 Deer
(Tilantongo)
Fig. 11.3 Genealogical relationships of major characters in the War of Heaven and 8 Deer periods.
rather dependent upon the political exigencies of fac-
tions maneuvering for advantage. According to Spores
(p. 304), "Great care and planning went into royal mar-
riages to ensure the most advantageous alliances." Mar-
riages were often among consanguineal kin (Dahlgren
1954:149-50, Spores 1974:304), usually a man with his
sister's daughter, which perpetuated alliances between
two royal families and their respective patrimonies.
However, the marriages of 9 Wind's descendants diverge
from this pattern. Lord 10 Eagle married his mother's
sister, Lady 9 Wind, while the marriage of 2 Rain
Twenty Jaguars to his step-mother's sister, Lady 6
Monkey never happened (Fig. 11.3).
The alliance between Lords 9 Wind of Tilantongo and
8 Wind of Hill of the Monkey/Cerro Jazmin/Suchixtlan
began when a man from Tilantongo married a Cerro
Jazmin-Suchixtlan woman (10 Flower + 2 Serpent).
Their elder son (12 Lizard) inherited Tilantongo while
the younger son (10 Eagle) married his mother's sister (9
Wind) from Jazmin-Suchixtlan and went to reside in
Jaltepec. The brothers now ruled Tilantongo and Jal-
tepec, and they continued the alliance by having their
children marry (5 Movement of Tilantongo + 4 Death of
4 Rabbit 9 1 Vulture
(Hill of the Wasp)
9 10 Deer
the Monkey)
1 1
2 Serpent 3 Lizard
(Hill of the Monkey)
- $ 9 Wind
(Jaltepec)
12 Lizard - 9 5 Jaguar
(Huachino) (Hill of the Wasp)
9 6 Monkey - 11 Wind
(Jaltepec) (Huachino)
I I
4 Wind 1 Alligator
Jaltepec). To continue the pattern, a son from this
marriage would next have married his mother's sister (6
Monkey) and have been seated in Tilantongo. Unfortu-
nately, no such union took place. While Lord 5 Move-
ment did have a son by another marriage, this son 2
Rain Twenty Jaguars was not the child of Lady 4
Death. His relationship to 6 Monkey was as her father's
brother's son rather than as sister's son. Just as 8
Wind had his grandson 10 Eagle marry his daughter 9
Wind, so 10 Eagle might have done with his grandson
and his daughter 6 Monkey. Clearly 2 Rain and 6
Monkey were in positions to continue the alliance, but
they did not marry. Lord 2 Rain enlisted the aid of his
great-great-grandfather, 8 Wind, the original formula-
tor of the alliance, and his uncle 3 Lizard to attack 10
Eagle (Zouche-Nuttall 7-8 and Selden 6 II). It is pos-
sible that 2 Rain was trying to force the continuation of
the alliance between Tilantongo and Jaltepec through
either marriage with 6 Monkey or usurpation of 10
Eagle's position. The marriage of 6 Monkey to 11 Wind
of Red and White Bundle clearly indicates that 10 Eagle
had other alliance interests beyond those with Tilan-
tongo. Perhaps, he was trying to assert his independence
 From Classic to Postclassic in the Mixteca Aha 123

Nuu Tnoo/ Huahi Andehui

Tilantongo/ Temple of Heaven

Natividad

Fig. 11.4 Natividad phase (Postclassic period) occupation of Tilantongo and Jaltepec. Huachino was abandoned
around AD 1101. Tilantongo became the most highly ranked Mixtec kingdom by AD 1500. Jaltepec shifted its
settlement from a mountain top to adjacent low-lying ridges. The buffer zone created after the War of Heaven and
8 Deer periods is still maintained by Jaltepec and Tilantongo today.

from his father 10 Flower, and his natal home of
Tilantongo.
Lord 10 Eagle's venture into this multi-generational
alliance was effective. Despite the defeat and sacrifice of
Lady 6 Monkey and Lord 11 Wind, and in competition
with 11 Wind's children by another marriage, 10 Eagle's
grandchildren, 4 Wind and 1 Alligator, were quite suc-
cessful. According to Codex Colombino 16, Lord 4
Wind attended the assassination of 8 Deer (Troike 1974),
and 1 Alligator was able to maintain the relationship
between Jaltepec and the Zapotec lords of the Valley of
Oaxaca who had been Red and White Bundle's allies
(Whitecotton 1990).
Episode 2: the 8 Deer Jaguar Claw Period
Within a year of 2 Rain Twenty Jaguar's death, 8 Deer
attacked Red and White Bundle and shattered the
Jaltepec-Red and White Bundle alliance by killing both
Lady 6 Monkey and Lord 11 Wind, and by marrying
their son, 4 Wind, to his daughter (Troike 1974; Pohl in
press). Lord 8 Deer seems to have held the alliance
between Tilantongo and Jaltepec as more important
than any special kinship rule.
The rivalry between Red and White Bundle with their
Zapotec allies and the Rulers of Tilantongo and Suchix-
tlan ended with the utter defeat of the Red and White
Bundle faction. Archaeologically, this is reflected in the
abandonment of the entire area by AD 1100 (Fig. 11.4).
Thus, ties between a Mixtec faction connected to Red
and White Bundle and powerful rulers in the Valley of
Oaxaca were broken. Further, these sites and their royal
houses were destroyed by a competing Mixtec faction led
by 8 Deer. Only 4 Wind survived, so that 8 Deer could tie
this powerful adversary to his line of descent. Lord 4
Wind's brother, 1 Alligator, was given to Jaltepec
(Selden 9 I), but he promptly disappeared from the
dynastic reckoning of that town.
Lord 8 Deer eliminated the intrusion of Red and
White Bundle into an existing alliance scheme, re-
establishing an earlier alliance by marrying 4 Wind to his
own daughter. Beyond these local factional interests,
there was an inter-regional dimension to the alliance
because of Red and White Bundle's relationship with the
Valley of Oaxaca. At this time, settlements in the
Mixteca Alta relocated from the mountaintop sites that
had been occupied during the Classic to lower piedmont
locations. We suggest that the final breakup of Monte
Alban as a political center capable of imposing its will on
 124 Bruce E. By land and John M. D. Pohl
large numbers of people had a liberating effect in the
Mixteca.
Episode 3: the Late Postclassic
Ever since Robert Gallego's discovery of Tomb 1 at
Zaachila, we have suspected that the royal house of that
powerful Zapotec capital is portrayed in Zouche-Nuttall
33-35 (see Paddock 1983). The identification is sup-
ported through the observation that the calendrical
names of the Zaachila kings in the Lienzo de Gueva
correlate with the sequence of names in the Zouche-
Nuttall passages (Jansen 1989).
The place sign for Zaachila bears elements that relate
to names for the community. The main feature of the
place sign is a large temple within which stands the
patron deity 7 Rain (Fig. 11.5). In Nahuatl, Zaachila
was called Teozapotlan or "Place of the God of the
Zapotecs" (Relaciones Geogrdficas 1984:157); 7 Rain
bears the costume attributes to the Aztec god Xipe Totec
whom the Aztecs considered "the proper god of the
Fig. 11.5 Place sign of Zaachila, from
Zouche-Nuttall 33.
Zapotecs" (Sahagun 1950-69: Bk. 1). Finally, we know
that the Mixtec name for Zaachila was Tocuisi, an
abbreviation of Toto Cuisi meaning "curved rock." A
bent or curved rock is displayed behind the 7 Rain-Xipe
temple in the Zouche-Nuttall place sign.
The Zapotecs depicted in Zouche-Nuttall wear ethnic
costumes comparable to those in the Lienzo de Guevea.
Xipe was also known as Yopi, a Zapotec or Tlapanec
term. The name of the Zapotec rain god was Cocijo.
Three of the names or titles for the Zapotec lords on the
Lienzo de Guevea are Yobicoxi, Cosiobi, and Cocijobii.
As contractions of Cocijo and Yoobi, the terms may
refer to the combination of costume elements worn by
the Zapotec patron deity 7 Rain and by the lords from
Zaachila.1
A dramatic portrayal of human sacrifice depicts the
ritual assassination by 8 Deer of the last lords of Red and
White Bundle (Zouche-Nuttall 83-4, Codex Becker
11-12). The sacrificial victim of the Codex Becker is
clothed in tight-fitting red pants and shirt with a con-
trasting-color bottom border, nearly identical with the
clothing of the Lienzo de Guevea kings. Given that
Monte Alban Illb/IV attributes of Huachino, the site
which we associate with Red and White Bundle, it seems
that 8 Deer is both eliminating his local competition and
closing out Zapotec influence by symbolically sacrificing
these Mixtec lords in the guise of Zapotecs.
If Lord 5 Flower, the patriarch of the Zouche-Nuttall
royal line under discussion, is a Zapotec ruler, then his
wife is Lady 4 Rabbit of Teozacoalco (Zouche-Nuttall
33 III). She is descendant of 8 Deer of Tilantongo and,
therefore, a Mixtec woman who married a Zapotec lord.
This ethnic translation is suggested by the Xipe face
paint on the lower half of her face, complementing the
Xipe face paint on the upper half of her husband's face.
Their children established the ruling lines at Zaachila
and Teozacoalco (Pohl 1991).
One of their sons is 2 Dog Flint Band (Zouche-Nuttall
34 I) who is shown on the Mapa de Teozacoalco as an
intruder who breaks the line of descent at Teozacoalco
(Caso 1949). We suggest that he returned to Teozacoalco
from his mother's adopted home of Zaachila. Lady 4
Rabbit was sent to Zaachila to ally Teozacoalco with the
rulers of the Zapotec kingdom. They probably never
thought that the issue of that alliance would return, as 2
Dog is shown doing on the Mapa, confronting a group
of armed men and usurping control of his mother's
home.
Another line of Lord 5 Flower and Lady 4 Rabbit's
children remained at Zaachila. Their descent begins with
the Lady 10 Monkey and ends with Lord 6 Water

(Zouche-Nuttall 34-5). This suggests that the Zapotec
lineage of Zaachila as depicted in the Lienzo de Guevea
and the Codex Zouche-Nuttall was descended from the
Mixtec ruler 8 Deer Jaguar Claw. This lineage ended
with the famous ruler of Zaachila and Tehuantepec,
Lord Cosijoeza, portrayed on the Lienzo de Guevea
(Pohl 1991).2
Both Tilantongo and Zaachila had interests in the
ruling line at Teozacoalco. The most highly ranked
lineage in the Mixteca Alta, at Tilantongo, and the most
highly ranked lineage in the valley of Oaxaca, at Zaa-
chila, were connected though their kinship with Teoza-
coalco. Clearly the factional interests of the noble fami-
lies of each of these places were expressed in their
maneuverings with their neighbors.
In the time of Teozacoalco's Lady 4 Rabbit, a long-
distance relationship was re-established between the
Mixteca Alta and the Valley of Oaxaca which persisted
several generations, at least until Lord 6 Water, the last
recorded member of the Zouche-Nuttall Zaachila
dynasty. Such a link had not apparently existed since the
demise of the alliance between Monte Alban and the
Red and White Bundle group in the Mixteca Alta. In this
Classic and Late Classic relationship, the Mixtecs were
clearly subordinate to Valley of Oaxaca overlords.
However, in the Late Postclassic, the connection was
maintained by more or less equal factions each seeking
to improve its position in relation to its neighbors.
It may be significant that the connection was made
through Teozacoalco, which is strategically located in a
river valley opening onto the arable lowlands of the
Mixteca Baja and the powerful community of Tututepec.
It is a gateway from the coast to both the Mixteca Alta
and the Valley of Oaxaca. Tilantongo had close ties to
Tututepec at the time of 8 Deer; 8 Deer may have ruled
Tututepec before taking control of Tilantongo (Smith
1973a). The Valley of Oaxaca connects to Tilantongo via
either Pefioles or Tlazoyaltepec, down to Teozacoalco.
From Teozacoalco, the route goes either upstream to
Tilantongo, in the heart of the Mixteca Alta, or down-
stream to Tututepec in the Mixteca Baja.
Teozacoalco was located at a natural crossroads
between three different environmental zones, and it
profited from the exchange of ceramics, cotton, cloth,
feathers, turquoise inlay, graphite, copper, and gold.
The interests of Zapotec and Mixtec factional leaders in
controlling access to these goods is clear, for exotic
materials demonstrated the status of elites. To the extent
that the rulers of Zaachila, Tilantongo, or Teozacoalco
could limit access to such goods, they could control
status and power locally. Their position in local fac-
From Classic to Post classic in the Mixteca Alta 125
tional politics was enhanced when lower-ranking nobles
found it necessary to come to them for the accou-
trements which demonstrated their own social positions.
Factional competition rooted in the Early Postclassic
conflicts between Tilantongo, Jaltepec, and Huachino
was later manifested in a Late Postclassic conflict
between Zaachila and Cuilapan in the Valley of Oaxaca
(see Caso 1966, Paddock 1983). While Tilantongo and
Zaachila were linked through their common ties to Teo-
zacoalco, Cuilapan appears to have constructed its own
alliance with the Mixteca Alta through Etla to Jaltepec
(and Yanhuitlan). Rabin (pers. comm.) notes that 6
Monkey appears on the Yale Document, a sixteenth-
century Zapotec genealogy that records a descent group
linking Jaltepec, Cuilapan, and Mitla (Whitecotton
1983, 1990). Lord 6 Monkey's son, 1 Alligator, who
mysteriously disappears from the Codex Selden,
reappears in the Yale Document marrying into a com-
munity in the Etla Valley (Whitecotton 1983, 1990).
Indeed, even today, the Zapotec community of Mazal-
tepec in the Etla Valley claims to have been founded by
Jaltepec (Dennis 1987:53), and people from Jaltepec told
us that their lands had once extended to the Etla arm of
the Valley of Oaxaca.
Conclusions: the role of factions in ancient Oaxaca
We argue that the Codex Zouche-Nuttall is best under-
stood as a record of the relationships between Late
Postclassic Oaxacan polities. It is not a book which
vindicates the rights to rule of any particular Mixtec
lord. It rather serves as a sort of contract, a formal
record of the past events and genealogical relationships
which establish connections between the rulers of several
towns at the time of its writing. It is history for political
purpose. While historical events going back to about AD
940 are recorded, the thrust of the document is to legiti-
mate the contemporary political scene.
The recounting of factional interaction involving both
the construction of alliances and the prosecution of
warfare is part of an active political statement. Specific-
ally, the three episodes discussed here establish the
context of the alliance between Tilantongo and Zaachila,
an alliance with a checkered past. The heroic War of
Heaven and the 8 Deer period record past conflicts
between present allies, and justify them as reasonable in
their times. The genealogical relationship between the
early rulers and the most recent Zapotec and Mixtec
lords and ladies demonstrates that, despite earlier
troubles, the communities now have reason for alliance.
By this action, old wounds were healed. This "history"
 126 Bruce E. Byland and John M. D. Pohl
was used by the Late Postclassic rulers of Tilantongo,
Teozacoalco, Zaachila, and Tehuantepec to define their
mutual obligations. The Codex Zouche-Nuttall grounds
the relationships between 6 Water of Zaachila, 5 Reed
Twenty Jaguars of Teozacoalco, and other Oaxacan
nobles in the last decades before the Spanish conquest.
The political relationships among Mixtec and
Zapotec communities operated at two levels. They
functioned among the many like units within a region
to create factions in competition and alliance. This is
illustrated by the events connected with the War of
Heaven and the 8 Deer period in the Zouche-Nuttall.
Political relationships also functioned at the interregion-
al level, bringing into association powerful factions
from distant locations. The most powerful Mixtec poli-
ties are counterparts of the most powerful Zapotec
polities. This level of factionalism is recorded in the
genealogies of the Late Postclassic rulers of Mixtec and
Zapotec towns.
At another level, the codices also provide a record of
internecine factionalism. In several instances when
siblings might have vied for the right to rule a particular
community, factional alliance and competition deter-
mined who should rule and who should not. In one such
instance, 8 Deer Jaguar Claw formed an alliance with his
elder half brother 12 Movement Bloody Jaguar and
effectively excluded his other four siblings from the seat
of power.
In sum, the general cause of Mixtec factional com-
petition was the organization of generally comparable,
autonomous communities that were intricately inter-
related. The absence of an overarching political hier-
archy necessitated an alternative means of regulating
interaction. Because Postclassic Mixtec communities
were established through a long, complex, and indige-
nous process, their charters were broadly based. Each
community had to establish its own political structure,
its own productive capacity, its own network of
exchange, and its own social organization. It had to
control its internal organization and its external
relationships with peer communities, and to pursue its
more distant interests. These countervailing forces
defined the field of factional interaction. In a different
historical and ecological context, one particular faction
might have emerged quickly as dominant and disrupted
the interaction pattern by establishing clear hierarchy.
But in Postclassic Mixteca Alta, factional relations chan-
neled the maneuverings of the many participants in the
system and maintained some equity among them.
Acknowledgments
This research was conducted with the permission of the
Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia of Mexico
in 1985 and 1987. The fieldwork was supported by the
Professional Staff Congress, City University of New
York. The authors are indebted to Elizabeth Boone and
the Dumbarton Oaks Summer Fellowship program.
Elizabeth Brumfiel and John Fox provided helpful sug-
gestions. We thank our colleagues in Mixtec studies for
their comments and suggestions. These include Mark
King, Audrey Korelstein, John Monaghan, and Mary
Elizabeth Smith, Ronald Spores, Nancy Troike, Edwina
Williams, and Marcus Winter. We wish to express our
deep admiration and respect for the Mixtec people of
Tilantongo, Jaltepec, Diuxi, and Jaltepetongo without
whose friendship and support none of our work would
be possible.
Notes
1 In this way, both Zapotec and Mixtec aristocracies
succeeded in creating new forms of ethnicity that
cross-cut the well-established definitions rooted in
language and cultural behavior alone that continue
today. While certain Zapotec factions bound them-
selves together through the emulation of a lineage
patron like 7 Rain "Xipe Totec," certain Mixtec fac-
tions became known as the "children of Quetzal-
coatl," and still others claimed descent from the
Tolteca-Chichimeca culture hero Mixtecatl.
2 Marcus (1983c:301-8) believes that Zaachila lords of
the Lienzo represent the children of Cocijoeza and not
his ancestors. Jansen (1989) and Paddock (1983) argue
that this perspective diverges from a more standard
format in lienzos and maps in which a column of
people is generally intended to represent a genealogy
running from ancestors at the bottom to later
descendants at the top.

12
Internal subdivisions of
communities in the
prehispanic Valley of
Oaxaca
STEPHEN A. KOWALEWSKI
This study examines archaeological and historical infor-
mation on segmentation at the community level in the
prehispanic Valley of Oaxaca. Some communities had
internal, spatial subdivisions, though it is usually not
possible with the present information to specify the basis
on which these communities were subdivided. By and
large, however, Valley of Oaxaca communities were
politically centralized rather than segmental.
Class, stratification, or status hierarchy distinctions
pervaded Oaxacan and Mesoamerican societies gen-
erally. Elsewhere our settlement pattern project has
written about problems in the archaeological identifica-
tion of these class distinctions (Kowalewski, Feinman,
and Finsten in press). In reality hierarchical distinctions
between levels are intertwined with same-level distinc-
tions, such as factions; nevertheless, I would like to treat
just the same-level groupings in this chapter.
The most significant same-level distinctions in Valley
of Oaxaca society were not within communities; nor did
kinship or ethnicity generate the major factions of
society. Instead, on the whole, inter-community
divisions were the major segments whose binding or
separation was crucial to the dynamics of society. These
inter-community fault lines contrast with the segmentary
lineages proposed for the Maya area (Wallace and
Carmack 1977, Fox 1987). In this respect Valley of
Oaxaca society was more similar to that of Central
Mexico than to Maya society. Yet the Valley of Oaxaca
lacked the apparent emphasis on ethnic constituents seen
in Postclassic Central Mexico.
The remainder of this chapter provides support for the
propositions I have just made. The next five sections
describe the several lines of evidence bearing on commu-
nity subdivisions generally in the Valley of Oaxaca, and
especially subdivisions at the two sites, San Jose Mogote
and Monte Alban, where subdivisions are most obvious.
The final section summarizes trends in community seg-
mentation in the Valley of Oaxaca and concludes that
inter-community rather than intra-community divisions
were probably more significant in the dynamics of
society. Finally I compare the basis for same-level seg-
mentation in the Valley of Oaxaca, Central Mexico, and
the Maya area.
San Jose Mogote
Except for one head town, Valley of Oaxaca settlements
of the period 1450-700 BC were almost always small
hamlets. Within these hamlets there were differences in
social rank (Whalen 1976), but the sites are so small that
other subdivisions, such as lineage segments, are not
evident or did not exist.
In contrast San Jose Mogote, the head town of the
Early and Middle Formative, was composed of spatially
separate segments. The regional surface survey and more
detailed studies by Flannery and Marcus show that San
Jose Mogote consisted of several clusters of houses
separated by unoccupied space (Flannery 1976; Flan-
nery and Marcus 1983b; Kowalewski et al. 1989).
The excavated materials from Early Formative San
Jose Mogote suggest that its residential wards differed in
complementary ways in craft specializations (Pires-
Ferreira 1976), Olmec-style design motifs (Pyne 1976),
and even specific activities involving local chipped stone
(Parry 1987). Some of the smaller sites seem to have
preferred ceramic motifs similar to those of one or
another of the residential wards at San Jose Mogote
(Pyne 1976).
Despite the segregation of San Jose Mogote's resi-
dential wards in space and in artifact associations, the
town apparently had but one civic-ceremonial focus
(Flannery and Marcus 1983b); public facilities that were
the scenes of socially integrative, civic-ceremonial activi-
ties were probably built for the whole community, not
each residential ward. Parry (1987:110) suggests that
craft production at San Jose Mogote may have become
more centralized by the Middle Formative.
It is tempting to conclude that Valley of Oaxaca
society in the Early Formative had corporate descent
groups integrated through ritual and political institu-
tions at the head town. However, such an interpretation
for the Valley of Oaxaca is not yet very specific or
satisfactorily tested. Another unresolved question is how
long corporate kin units, if such institutions existed in
127
 128 Stephen A. Kowalewski

Fig. 12.1 Clustering in prehispanic settlements. The map shows Monte Albdn
III A (c. AD 250-500) settlements in central Tlacolula, the eastern subregion of
the Valley ofOaxaca. The size and shape of settlements are blacked in, except
for sites smaller than two hectares, which for reasons of scale are depicted by
small triangles. The heaviest lines enclose clusters of sites no farther apart than
500 m. Notice the fragmentation of settlement and the fact that most sites
belong to a 500 m cluster. Medium-thick and broken lines represent clustering
at 1000 m, 1500 m, and 2000 m intervals. Grid cells are 4 km on a side, the
contour interval is 100 m, and north is toward the top of the page. The cluster
of large sites on the north side of the valley is Dainzu-Macuilxochitl-
Tlacochahuaya-Guadalupe, Tlacolula s major center at this time. Based on a
map drawn by Laura Fins ten in Kowalewski et al. 1989:211.
 Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley ofOaxaca 129

the Early Formative, persisted into the time of urbanism them into four rough categories: multiple, widely scat-
and state organization. tered mounds, no focus (n = 8) (Fig. 12.2); single focus of
mounds and plazas (n = 26) (Fig. 12.3); single focus of
mounds and plazas with other mounds or plazas scat-
Residential wards at later settlements?
tered (n = 47) (Fig. 12.4); and multiple foci of mounds
Most prehispanic settlements in the Valley of Oaxaca and plazas (n = 20) (Figs. 12.5-12.7). The most obvious
show up on the ground surface as single, nucleated conclusion, and the one I will return to after describing
concentrations of artifacts. However, in all periods there more intricate efforts with these data, is that the multi-
were sites that consisted of more than one concentration focal sites (20 percent of all the multiple mound sites)
of artifacts, separated by apparently uninhabited area. were an infrequent type of community.
When the uninhabited space between artifact concentra- There are no statistically significant trends in the pro-
tions was greater than 100 m, our settlement pattern portion of multifocal sites by time period. The propor-
project called the concentrations separate sites. In some tion of multifocal sites appears to increase between the
cases sites 100-300 m apart were probably parts of the earliest urban periods (after 500 BC) to the later periods
same past community, especially when there were no (after AD 250), but this may be chimerical. When I
topographic barriers between them. Sites may also have re-examined each of the drawings I found that the multi-
formed clusters whose members were separated by focal category contained a great deal of variation and
greater distances, say 500 or 1000 m. Fig. 12.1 illustrates that clearly not all the multifocal sites could have meant
possible communities formed by aggregating sites separ- the same thing. When I removed all the very small sites,
ated by varying distances. the cases where foci were probably of different time
From 300 BC to AD 500 two-thirds to three-fourths of
all sites were part of clusters whose member sites were
O
separated by less than 500 m. The majority of clusters
defined at the 500 m distance had civic-ceremonial archi-
tecture, but such buildings were usually found at only
one of the sites in the cluster. In other words the typical
pattern was for civic-ceremonial functions at the com-
munity level to be centralized (as they were earlier at San
Jose Mogote) rather than divided among segments.
One interpretation of the spatial fragmentation of
communities would be that kin-based segments con-
tinued to maintain an identity well after the Early For-
mative. However there are other plausible explanations
for the spatial fragmentation, including patterns of land
use (Drennan 1988), land tenure, or land value; military
reasons; or social differentiation on craft, ethnic, or
other criteria besides kinship. The sociological sig- o
nificance of these spatially fragmented or dispersed com-
munities is a question requiring a finer scale of data and
analysis than we have at present; it is an interesting
problem that remains unresolved.

Multifocal communities
Were there communities in the Valley of Oaxaca whose
arrangements of pyramid mounds and plazas suggest
segmentation? In preparing this paper I inspected the | Mound

o
- Site boundary
layout of every multiple-mound site (Blanton et al. 1982:
Appendix XI, Kowalewski et al. 1989: Appendix IX). Fig. 12.2 A site with multiple, widely scattered mounds:
Using a typology similar to that developed by Richard 4-11-87 etc., a Monte Albdn V site near San Sebastian
Blanton (1989), I counted 101 relevant sites and sorted Teitipac.
 130 Stephen A. Kowalewski

B Mound
Site boundary

Fig. 12.3 A site with a single focus of mounds and

plazas: Tl-SJT-SJT-11, a multicomponent site near
San Juan Teitipac.

periods, the cases where a second focus was doubtful, I Mound

etc., thirteen multifocal sites remained, and these exhibit Site boundary
no trend over time either in the total number occupied or
in the founding of new ones. The following paragraphs Fig. 12.4 A site with a single focus of mounds and
describe the clearer examples of multifocal towns, in plazas and others scattered: Xoxocotlan, mainly Early
chronological order. Classic.
Two multifocal places most likely date to Monte Alban
Early I (beginning 500 BC): Magdalena Apasco
(ET-MA-MA-1) and San Martin Tilcajete (OC-SMT- (TL-TCH-MAC-1, including Dainzu), Trinidad de Zaa-
SMT-11), if the latter was not already a multifocal com- chila, and Santa Ines Yatzeche became multifocal in
munity in the preceding Rosario phase. San Martin Til- Monte Alban IIIA (AD 250), if not in the previous
cajete is illustrated in Fig. 12.5. Both sites were second- phase. These three differed considerably in their degree
ary centers. Monte Alban, if it did not have multiple of nucleation and spatial separation.
architectural foci in Early Period I, certainly did by Late In Monte Alban IIIB-IV (beginning AD 500) Tlalti-
I (300 BC), as did Suchilquitongo (ET-SS-SS-1), shown nango (ET-SS-TL-1) was added (if it wasn't multifocal
in Fig. 12.6. All of these had two or more mound and before), as was Jalieza, with its widely separated palace
plaza groups of significant scale, contained within a quadrangles. Laura Finsten returned to Jalieza in 1988
larger residential area. In Monte Alban II (100 BC) I add for more intensive investigation. She tells me (pers.
Cuilapan, though it is not quite so clearly multifocal, but comm. 1989) that the public buildings, plazas, and roads
San Martin Tilcajete was abandoned. Macuilxochitl in Monte Alban IV Jalieza form a more concentrated
 Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley ofOaxaca 131

100 200m

Mound

Fig. 12.5 A site with multiple architectural foci: OC-SMT-SMT-11 near

San Martin Tilcajete, in the Late Formative.

core than we had originally thought. Jalieza thus may

not be a multiple-focus community.
Macuilxochitl had more pyramid mounds than any
place in the Valley in Monte Alban IV, and two open
plazas interpreted as markets. Lambityeco is not multi-
focal by my definition, but Lind and Urcid (1983) inter-
preted three of the excavated mounds as the houses of
the cacique, the head priest, and the overseer (see p. 134,
below). Since there are many other contemporary
mounds of similar size at Lambityeco, might this mean
there were several such functionaries in the same town?
Most of the aforementioned sites ceased to be multi-
focal communities by the beginning of Monte Alban
Period V (AD 850), which saw the construction of new,
multiple, architectural foci at three of its five most
important centers (Tlalixtac, Yagul, and Mitla) and
reuse of older architecture in a multifocal pattern at the
other two (Sa'a Yucu, or Old Cuilapan, and Macuilxo-
chitl). Tlalixtac's multiple plaza groups are shown in Fig.
12.7. Here as at the other major Monte Alban V centers
there were principal and lesser palace groups, instead of
multiple foci of equal-sized palaces.
Fig. 12.6 A site with multiple architectural foci: Architecturally centralized rather than multifocal com-
Suchilquitongo in the Late Classic.
 132 Stephen A. Kowalewski
0 100 200m
I Mound
Site boundary
Fig. 12.7 A site with multiple architectural foci: Monte Albdn V Tlalixtac.
munities are generally typical of the Valley of Oaxaca.
Some of the better-known sites in this category include
Reyes Etla, San Jose Mogote, San Luis Beltran, San
Juan Teitipac, Matatlan, Xoxocotlan, Zaachila,
Noriega, and Santa Ana Tlapacoyan.
The Valley's many hilltop terraced sites are pertinent
to our topic because their ramps, stairs, roads, enclos-
ures, and other ways of forming public and private space
are often better preserved than at valley-floor sites. The
terraced sites are typically conical in organization, with
low-status residences crowded on the slopes, plazas and
public buildings on ridge tops, and high-status resi-
dential-ceremonial complexes forming the most secluded
areas of the community. Many terraced sites look cen-
trally planned. The terraced sites are highly centralized
rather than segmental, though this conclusion should be
qualified because the terraced sites were distinct func-
tionally from other communities, being more involved in
military activities and probably less involved in manag-
ing intensive agriculture.
Forty-seven sites in the multiple-mound sample were
of the type with a single focus of mounds and plazas with
other mounds and small plazas scattered away from the
site center. In some cases the scattered mounds are
probably high-status residences, as at Xoxocotlan (Fig.
12.4) and Lambityeco. At other sites, such as the Cerro
de Azompa, El Choco, and Jalieza, some of the outlying
mounds and plazas, generally small and located at the
edge of the site, seem to have had special functions. In
the field we speculated that these architectural features
served "gateway" functions, but this idea has not been
tested.
In sum, the Valley of Oaxaca's predominant archi-
tectural layout for communities consisted of a nucleus of
several mounds and plazas (often including a closed
mound group), with or without a scattering of other
 Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley of Oaxaca 133

mounds. Only in the Late Postclassic did the sites I natives will require more detailed information. A broad
classified as multifocal play a major role. Even then, geographical affiliation for Monte Alban's barrios is
their architectural nuclei, while separate, were not equal. suggested by similarities in pottery between northern
Mitla's standing palaces are much larger than the palace and southeastern barrios at Monte Alban and the
quadrangles found elsewhere in ancient Mitla. At Tlalix- northern and southeastern wings of the Valley,
tac (Fig. 12.7) and Yagul the same can be said for the respectively (Kowalewski et al. 1989). The same analysis
principal versus the outlying palaces. These Late Post- suggests that two of the city's subdivisions had a greater
classic communities were less centralized than their hand than others in pottery distribution within Monte
earlier counterparts, but they were probably ruled by a Alban. But as yet no specific links have been demon-
single cacique, the other palaces belonging to subord- strated between particular site subdivisions and par-
inate nobility. ticular towns or localities, or between subdivisions or
outlying towns and any buildings on the Main Plaza.
The ancient Zapotec capital thus had residential sub-
Monte Alban
divisions, each with its own nucleus of public buildings.
Monte Alban has the most substantial evidence for com- The subdivisions and their public architecture were
munity subdivisions of any place in the Valley of about the same size as the secondary or tertiary towns in
Oaxaca. It was Richard Blanton who discovered the the rest of the Valley. The subdivisions had some as yet
city's barrio structure, and I follow his descriptions
(1978:19-24, 33-9, 44-52, 63, 66-93). Monte Alban may
have had three distinct residential zones from the first at
its founding about 500 BC. By the Classic period, and
perhaps as early as the Late Formative, the city consisted
of a special precinct including the unique and monumen-
tal Main Plaza and nearby residences, and (by AD 600)
up to fourteen subdivisions or barrios. These subdivi-
sions varied in population size from 150 to 3600. They
each consisted of residences for elite and commoners, a
central focus of civic-ceremonial architecture, roads, and
open plazas; sometimes they had specialized craft-
working. It is intriguing, but perhaps entirely coinci-
dental, that there are fourteen special buildings on the
Late Classic Main Plaza, which might have been related
to the city's fourteen barrios.
The civic-ceremonial architecture of Monte Alban's
subdivisions (other than the Main Plaza sector) is similar
to that found at secondary and tertiary cities and towns
in the Valley: that is, a closed, four-mound and court-
yard group, open space or plazas, and several other
mounds, or a variation of this basic pattern (Fig. 12.8).
Even the Cerro de Azompa, which stands out among the
subdivisions for the monumentality of its architecture,
can be matched for mound volume architectural
arrangements, and population by Reyes Etla, a con-
temporary secondary center less than 15 km away. In
architecture and size Monte Alban's barrios were much
like the secondary and tertiary centers out in the Valley. 0 20 40m

Conceivably Monte Alban's subdivisions were in ^ | Mound

some way the representatives of particular towns or { ) Residential terra(
localities out in the Valley, or they may have been con-
sidered barrios or towns in their own right, equivalent to Fig. 12.8 The center of one of Monte Alban's barrios,
other communities in the Valley. Testing these alter- site subdivision 15 (El Gallo).
 134 Stephen A. Kowalewski

unspecifiable affiliation with geographical subregions of drama depicted precolumbian hostilities between
the Valley. Nevertheless, Monte Alban, certainly from Mixtecs and Zapotecs, specifically those of Cuilapan and
Monte Alban Late I (300 BC), must be considered a Zaachila. However, one must take care not to reify the
centralized rather than a segmental community, for the ethnic groups. There is little evidence that "Mixtec" or
subdivisions were always dwarfed by the monumentality "Zapotec" affiliation made much difference in political
and central, prominent position of the Main Plaza. behavior or that there were major differences in way of
life or culture between these essentially linguistic groups.
Oaxaca scholars have carried on a minor tradition of
Historical information arguing about whether there was a Mixtec invasion of
Information about social organization in the sixteenth- the Valley of Oaxaca, but there is broad agreement
century Valley of Oaxaca is not copious, but scholars among all parties that the categories "Mixtec" and
generally agree on its interpretation. The Relaciones "Zapotec" help very little in explaining political and
Geogrdficas of c. 1570 (1981) and the experienced priest social behavior. Whitecotton (1977:121): "local commu-
Francisco de Burgoa (1934) are the most important nity allegiance seems to have partly replaced, or become
single sources, and other clues can be found in diverse dominant over, larger ethnic group loyalties." Flannery
documents. I summarize what is known about sixteenth- and Marcus (1983a:278): "warfare ... was cacique versus
century social segmentation along lines of kinship, class, cacique, not nation versus nation. Nowhere is it
hierarchy, ethnicity, and community barrios. imagined that 'the Mixtec people' were at war with 'the
Among Mixtecs and Zapotecs, kinship was bilateral Zapotec people'." Paddock (1983:105): "the city-state,
and there were no corporate lineal descent groups or small and evanescent grouping of city-states, was the
(Whitecotton 1977:153; Spores 1967:10; Spores and unit in these struggles. A Zapotec ruler of one would
Flannery 1983:341). Other than genealogical ties among fight another such with little or no regard for his eth-
the regional nobility, there was apparently little atten- nicity; Mixtec caciques did the same."
tion paid to kin relationships beyond the local com- For colonial Oaxaca, Chance (1986:esp. 148) subord-
munity. inates ethnicity to other factors. The contributors to a
Oaxaca society was class stratified, the most obvious recent volume on ethnicity and cultural pluralism in
stratum being an hereditary nobility that tended to prac- Oaxaca primarily discuss indigenous groups as a general
tice caste endogamy and local exogamy, and a broad social class instead of as a set of active allegiance groups
commoner class, which may have been locally endoga- (Barabas and Bartolome 1986). Arthur Murphy (pers.
mous. Commoners can be subdivided by legal status and comm. 1988)findsthat ethnicity explains little about the
land tenure (Spores and Flannery 1983; Romero 1986). behavior of people in modern Oaxaca City. True, the
Secular administration consisted of local caciques state of Oaxaca has great ethnolinguistic diversity, but
(Zapotec coqui and coquitao, lord and great lord) who the forces that created this diversity operated in the
were members of the royal line within the noble class. remote past (Josserand, Winter, and Hopkins 1984).
Beneath these caciques were their agents at the barrio And when the scale of the problem is not all Oaxaca, but
level, called tequitlato, or globaba in Zapotec. They col- just the central valleys, the state's ethnic diversity plays
lected tribute and settled disputes; they may have only a minimal role in the structuring of the total social
organized collective labor. A possible higher level of the system.
Zapotec political hierarchy might be represented by the The Spanish recognized barrios in Oaxaca in early
lord of Teozapotlan (Zaachila), to whom local caciques colonial times. Barrios probably functioned before the
gave military support (Whitecotton 1977:309, Gay sixteenth century. The golabas were functionaries
1982:60, Flannery 1983; Lind and Urcid 1983). The assigned by the cacique to barrios or estancias (Paso y
Valley Zapotecs supported a hierarchy of higher and Troncoso 1981:199). Citing Burgoa and the sixteenth-
lesser priests technically separate from the secular century Relaciones, Whitecotton (1977:96-7) lists
rulership but often figuring importantly in political Mixtec and Zapotec barrios in Santa Ana Zegache, Zaa-
events (Gay 1982:60-63; Flannery 1983). chila, and Huitzo. Gay (1982:124), retelling a story from
In 1521 the major ethnic groups living in the Valley Burgoa, says that the 15,000 families who made up
were the Mixtecs and Zapotecs. The nineteenth century Cuilapan were divided into barrios, each headed by a
historians Carriedo (1949:1, 43-4) and Gay (1982:125) military captain; today the town still has five spatially
tell of a dance acted out in Burgoa's time in Cuilapan separate barrios. Many towns traditionally have had
and widely in Oaxaca in the nineteenth century. The barrios, which may be neighborhoods of the town itself

or spatially separate villages located at a distance from
the main town. Barrios have administrative, ritual, and
sometimes landholding functions and were important
units in community formation in the colonial period
(Taylor 1972:21, 72). Generally, ethnicity does not dis-
tinguish barrios from each other.
Discussion
Most communities in Oaxaca - even the archaeological
cases that were multifocal - had a centralized concentra-
tion of public buildings. Local community segments may
have existed in the Valley from the beginning of seden-
tism, at San Jose Mogote and later in the form of
spatially discrete areas of habitation at other settle-
ments. The spatially separate habitation areas (other
than at San Jose Mogote and Monte Alban) generally
were not marked by architectural or other material
means that I can detect in the existing archaeological
data. Apparently barrio, kin, or other segments were
overridden and integrated by centralized institutions at
the community level. Subdivisions existed in some com-
munities but they were subordinate to centralized insti-
tutions.
There is little evidence that kinship groups provided
the fundamental building blocks of civil society. Corpo-
rate kin groups may have been important in the early
periods of sedentism and perhaps they persisted on the
local level after state formation, as I discussed above.
But after the rise of the state, segmentation based on kin
principles did not leave many material clues and in the
time covered by historical records its importance was
limited.
Contrast the minor role of kin groups in the Valley of
Oaxaca with the significance of lineage structure among
the Maya, as interpreted by Carmack and his students
(Wallace and Carmack 1977; Fox 1987). The archaeo-
logical evidence for segmentary lineage structure in Post-
classic Maya society is prominent, consisting of multiple
plaza groups, sites with multiple architectural foci, reg-
ularities in the regional spatial patterning of acropolis
and warrior-lineage sites, and stylistic expressions in
sculpture and other media. This evidence for segmen-
tation complements historical documents from Yucatan
and the Maya highlands.
Why did kin-based segmentation play a major role
among the Maya and not in Oaxaca and central Mexico?
Fox (1987) argues that segmentary lineage structure was 1 the persistent identity of subregional divisions, corres-
a mechanism for predatory expansion among the Maya,
as among some African societies. In the Maya case the
opportunity for expansion was eastern Mesoamerica's
Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley of Oaxaca 135
post-collapse environment. But in the Valley of Oaxaca
there was considerable continuity of settlement through
the Postclassic and sparse opportunity to found new
agricultural settlements on underused land. The ambi-
tious Oaxacan lord would do better by marrying into an
established royal line.
Ethnicity likewise did not have a major role in struc-
turing or fissioning Valley of Oaxaca society. Historic-
ally it did not, and there are few outstanding material
symbols in the archaeological record that are demon-
strably ethnic. The most prominent objects are associ-
ated with the Zapotec state, the individual cacicazgos, or
the pan-Oaxacan hereditary nobility. For example, the
famous Zapotec funerary urns were most often associ-
ated with families closely connected with the centralized
regional state at Monte Alban and to a lesser extent at
secondary centers. Temples and deities mentioned in the
sixteenth century were associated with deceased
ancestors of the royal line of particular cacicazgos
(Marcus 1983b). Pottery styles of the Late Postclassic
have distributions conforming to marketing spheres, not
Mixtec or Zapotec language speaking, so that people
obtained pots of the locally predominant types, there
being no types special to ethnic groups.
Contrast the lack of ethnic cleavages in the Valley of
Oaxaca with the greater role of ethnicity in Central
Mexico (see Brumfiel, Chapter 8, and Zantwijk,
Chapter 9). The Valley of Mexico's politically marginal
position in the earlier Postclassic and the competition
between groups with ties to different outside powers was
an ideal environment for ethnic conflict (Blanton et al.
1981:151-3; Parsons et al. 1982:381-3). In contrast, the
Valley of Oaxaca retained a dominant position in its
region. It had no period of political marginalization, and
its history is not cast in ethnic terms.
The Valley of Oaxaca had segments or factions (in
addition to class divisions), but they were not built of kin
units, and they were not fundamentally ethnic either in
practice or ideological expression. The archaeological
and historical data suggest that intra-community seg-
mentation was generally subordinated to centralized
political institutions at the community level.
Nevertheless, the Valley of Oaxaca tended to split
along spatial lines - faults that ran between, not within,
communities. Archaeologically, spatial segregation in
the Valley of Oaxaca is seen in:
ponding roughly to the three arms of the Valley and
marked by differences in settlement patterns, ceramic
styles, and connections to the whole regional system;
 136 Stephen A. Kowalewski
2 the frequent division of the region into core and peri-
phery, seen in differential consumption of goods and
differences in the composition of central places;
3 the occurrence of shrines, boundary markers, and
fortifications on the frontiers of the region and
between localities;
4 the geographical basis of the regional state embodied
in the subregionally affiliated barrios of its capital at
Monte Alban;
5 the occurrence of roughly equivalent forms and
amounts of civic-ceremonial architecture and ritual
objects in centralized local communities, with little
material indication of organic solidarity between local
communities (that is, local communities tended to be
similar and competitive); and
6 the role of markets in creating local integration.
Historical sources from the sixteenth century also
point to the importance of geographically based
cleavages:
1 the native conception of space organized centripetally,
as seen in colonial maps;
2 the indigenous histories, whose content concerns the
alliances, wars, tribute relationships, title, etc., of
localized cacicazgos and their lords;
3 the large number of semiautonomous cacicazgos,
which have grown into Oaxaca's enormous number of
municipios; and
4 the high frequency of costly boundary disputes
between municipios (Dennis 1987).
Cores and peripheries, subregions, local communities,
cacicazgos, municipios, and marketing spheres all have
specific and unique spatial definition, unlike ethnicity or
kinship, which may be spatially overlapping or cross-
cutting. Why did the Valley of Oaxaca organize along
territorial or spatial lines? I cannot answer this question
fully, but I might stress understanding why social
systems and subsystems were integrated at the scales that
they were. I think local communities and subregions in
the Valley of Oaxaca were integrated at the scale they
were because of requirements for controlling production
on both limited and fragmented irrigable land and more
extensive dry-farming land, and for reasons of marketing
efficiency. Spatially broader integrations such as Valley-
wide centralization and core-periphery structure were
due to requirements of societal boundary maintenance
and the economic integration necessary to sustain a large
regional capital. These themes of putting together inten-
sive and extensive agricultural production, boundary
maintenance, and provisioning the regional political
institutions are crucial to the structuring and dynamics
of Valley of Oaxaca society. They are developed more
fully in our final report (Kowalewski et al. 1989) than I
can in this paper. But in simplified generality, if I take a
Marxist approach and begin with ruling class control
over production, then in the Valley of Oaxaca what this
meant, typically, is centralized (rather than dispersed)
control over spatially coherent territories. Such terri-
tories were nested, from the locality, to the subregion, to
the region. Kin or ethnic segmentation had to be subord-
inated to the more powerful requirements (namely
production, exchange, and security requirements) of
spatially defined institutions.
Competing, more or less similar, geographically based
segments played an important role in the dynamics of
Valley of Oaxaca society. The Monte Alban state (not
unlike other early states) was a synthetic balance
between regional and local interests. Localities tended to
be alike, especially insofar as the region was organized as
a centralized, primate system, as it was in the earlier
periods. At times, such as during the growth of urbanism
in Monte Alban I (500-100 BC), local interests must
have been subordinated to regional concerns. At other
times, such as during the Early Classic (AD 250-500)
local interests gained functions previously monopolized
by the capital. Rivalry between local segments in the
Valley undoubtedly played a role in the break-up of the
regional state in the Early Postclassic (c. AD 700). In the
later Postclassic (to AD 1520) political struggle between
petty kingdoms, seen in the historical documents and in
the fortifications on their mutual boundaries (Elam
1989), brewed at the same time that the region became
more integrated economically. Internal competition here
was thus similar to that in Central Mexico in the Late
Postclassic, with the significant exception that the Valley
of Oaxaca was not welded together into another centra-
lized system as Mexico was by Tenochtitlan.
In sum, the existing archaeological evidence suggests a
degree of community-level social segmentation in the
form of barrios at San Jose Mogote, at Monte Alban,
and less distinctively at other settlements. Nevertheless,
communities tended to be centralized rather than seg-
mented in public, civic-ceremonial activities. The his-
torical evidence likewise shows community
centralization rather than segmentation. This society
tended to segment along spatial lines (between local
communities, between subregions, or along core-
periphery lines), in contrast to the Postclassic Maya,
where segmentation may have been along lineage - and
of course other - lines. To a lesser extent the Valley of
Oaxaca contrasts with the Valley of Mexico, where one

needs an ethnic gazetteer to understand Postclassic
documentary history. I suggested that lineage and ethnic
divisions in the Maya and Central Mexican regions
respectively were due to the more open political environ-
ments of the two regions after the collapse of Classic
societies; whereas the Valley of Oaxaca had greater
sociopolitical continuity and its own internal pressures
toward spatially coherent social groups.
A cknowledgmen ts
I am grateful for the support given to the Valley of
Oaxaca Settlement Pattern Project by the National
Science Foundation, the Social Science Research
Council, the Canadian Social Science and Humanities
Research Council, the City University of New York,
Purdue University, the University of Arizona, the Uni-
versity of Georgia, the University of Wisconsin, and
Subdivisions in the prehispanic Valley ofOaxaca 137
Arizona State University. Authority to carry out
fleldwork and valuable assistance were granted by the
Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia and the
Centro Regional de Oaxaca, directed by Manuel
Esparza and then Rogelio Gonzalez. I thank the many
members of our field and lab crews, and the Oaxacans
whose land we walked over. This paper owes much to
Arthur Murphy, my project collaborators Gary
Feinman and Laura Finsten, and especially Richard
Blanton, whose architectural studies laid the
groundwork for much of the interpretation. Blanton's
work was supported by SSRC, and he was assisted by
Lynnette Norr, Patricia Alleyne, and Marta Pinto.
Elizabeth Brumfiers and Blanton's comments helped
clarify several points and are greatly appreciated. I
thank Gisela Weis, whose drawings for this paper are
based on the originals done by our project.

13
Cycles of conflict: political
factionalism in the Maya
Lowlands
MARY E. D. POHL and
JOHNM. D. POHL
We recognize Lowland Maya culture because the Maya
were constantly competing with one another. The Low-
lands were "the hot center of a competitive system where
small differences matter a lot" (Douglas and Isherwood
1979:145). The archaeological and historical record
demonstrates that conflict repeatedly built up among the
Maya and was a powerful factor in cultural change. We
see recurring cycles of conflict but we also recognize that
structural change occurred as those cycles played out.
Our model for the development of conflict begins with
competition among parties who are closely tied, within a
lineage, between lineages within a polity, or between
adjacent polities. Conflict spreads as combatants reach
out in an attempt to rally allies to their cause and thereby
increase the number of actors with an interest in the
outcome of the struggle. The resultant political instabi-
lity may spur some to assert their independence, and
others may seize the opportunity tofilla power vacuum.
To assess our model we first look at the Late Post-
classic and early historic Maya and identify the "core
attributes of Maya society" (Farriss 1984). Prehistorians
have been wary of using these data, but they represent
our best information on Maya culture. Historically we
see sources of conflict among elites in competition over
political office and the means of supporting positions of
power. Commoners have their own conflicts over land
and inheritance. They appeal to elite patrons for conflict
resolution, and elites extract goods and labor in
exchange for their services, which they use to promote
themselves through warfare and ritual display. The
patron-client relation breaks down when elite power is
weak or when commoners perceive that they are being
exploited intolerably.
138
We then turn to the prehistoric record and find that
polities were colliding by the Late Preclassic period after
400 BC when the institutionalization of political posi-
tions had become widespread in the Lowlands. We
present archaeological and epigraphic evidence for
increasing competition through the Classic period
(between about AD 200 and AD 950-1000).l The evi-
dence suggests that during the Late Classic period
(AD 650-950) there was a shift from alliances to warfare
and elimination of political rivals.
Alliance and warfare are two sides of a single phenom-
enon: competition. The hallmarks of Classic Maya
society, the pyramids, the monuments with inscriptions,
decorated ceramics, and so forth were all vehicles for
competitive rituals of consumption designed to promote
political careers, confirm factional solidarity, and
emphasize differences with other political units. Such
consumption was the arena in which Maya culture was
fought over and given shape (See Douglas and Isher-
wood 1979:57). We focus most heavily on the southern
Maya Lowlands because a greater amount of infor-
mation is available for that region (Fig. 13.1). At the
same time there were regional differences, and we
present some data on their significance.
Finally we assess structural change that occurred as a
result of conflict. We see that by Postclassic times para-
mounts had lost some of their divine status and that
sharing of power among secular and priestly office
holders occurred. The Postclassic period was char-
acterized by intense competition among a large number
of players as well as periods of greater political
centralization.
Core attributes of Maya society
Although we recognize that the use of some ethnohisto-
ric documents may be problematic, Late Postclassic and
colonial society does represent a historical structural
transformation of Classic Lowland society, and the data
constitute the best information on Maya culture. Recent
research has demonstrated that the Maya resisted
Spanish domination more effectively than previously
suspected (e.g., Farriss 1984; Jones 1989). The docu-
ments reveal that ritual and military offices were power-
ful sources of control, grounded economically in the
rights to land use and tribute. Elite competition over
accession to political office provided many opportunities
for factionalism to develop, and intra-class competition
and inter-class conflict were significant forces in cultural
change.
Fig. 13.1 Map of sites discussed. 1. Itzan, 2. Altar de Sacrificios, 3. La Amelia, 4. El Caribe, 5. Aguas Calientes,
6. Arroyo de PiedralTamarindito.
 140 Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl
Fig. 13.2 Carved peccary skull from a Late Classic
royal tomb at Copdn illustrating elite participation in thehighest
cuch (burden) rite enacted at New Year, the end of a
katun cycle, or accession to a term of high public office. town chief) were military in nature. This elite warrior
Herbert J. Spinden, A Study of Mayan Art: Its Subject caste defended territorial boundaries and led group
Matter and Historical Development (1913). Memoirs
of the Peabody Museum vol. 6, fig. 210. Reprinted
courtesy of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and
Ethnology, Harvard University.
with their persons and arms in war, whenever the occa-
land preoccupied both the commoners and the native
The patron-client relationship
Elites and commoners (macehuales) were bound together
in patron-client relationships. Elites protected the cor-
porate community and ensured its continuing economic
and political viability while the commoners supplied
material support.
Elites organized the feasts, which were occasions for
dramatizing the political hierarchy (Fig. 13.2). Cere-
monial observances both recounted and re-enacted the
myths and history of the ruling family, including con-
flicts such as the fall of Mayapan, and petitioned the
fertility deities (Edmonson 1982, 1986). The communal
feasts were a focus for the mobilization of both goods
and labor. Although elites redistributed some of the
produce garnered, ceremonies were primarily occasions
for receiving surplus, which included corn, beans, fowls,
honey, wax, and especially cotton cloaks (mantas).
Elites employed the surpluses at their disposal to
enhance their political positions through rituals of con-
sumption aimed at selected targets. At Mayapan, "All
the lords were careful to respect, visit and to entertain
Cocom (the paramount), accompanying him, making
feasts in his honor and repairing to him with important
business ..." (Landa 1941:27). The ruling class gave
elaborate banquets on special occasions such as succes-
sion to office. Each guest was served maize cakes, cacao,
and meat and then presented with a cotton mantle, a
wooden stool, and a decorated cup or bowl (Roys
1943:29). These circles of consumption also served to
define eliteness by excluding the commoners.
Elites used ritual contexts to assign land titles and
award political positions. Most land was communally
owned, but elites had the privilege of allocating usufruct
rights, and they chose the best agricultural sites (e.g.,
cenotes) for themselves. Commoners could own improve-
ments, e.g., houseplots and fruit trees (Farriss 1984).
Elites insured physical as well as ritual protection. The
political offices (hal ach uinic or hereditary terri-
torial ruler, batab or subterritorial ruler, and nacom or
vendettas to avenge members of the community (Farris
1984:139-^6). One of the primary duties of commoners
was to participate in warfare. The sixteenth-century
Relaciones de Yucatan (1898-1900:1, 176-7) say that
lords "did not take tribute from their vassals more than
the latter wished to give, except that they served them
sion offered."
Colonial documents reveal that ongoing conflicts over
 Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands 141

elite. "The Treaty of Mani" located properties in AD Feasting and ritual celebration were closely associated
1557 just fifteen years after the conquest of Yucatan with warfare because they were the stage for self-
(Roys 1943), and 'The Titles of Ebtun" (Roys 1939), promotion. Nobles engaged in high drama. They went to
dating from AD 1600 on, record numerous disputes over the battlefield dressed as fierce predators, jaguars, and
inter-and intra-province boundaries and problems of eagles (Landa 1991:122). The Highland Quiche account
trespass. Ralph Roys (1943:178) suggests that these dis- of preparations for confronting the Spaniards conveys
putes were related to the difficulty of maintaining rights the vividness of the display. "And Captain Tecum, before
to agricultural land under a regime of shifting cultivation.leaving the town and in front of the chiefs, demonstrated
Farmers constantly make new plots and leave old fields his fortitude... and immediately put on wings with which
fallow - and hence untended - for a period of years. In he flew and his two arms and legs were covered with
addition, the Maya may have had more extensive feathers. ... This captain flew like an eagle" (Recinos
orchards in the past, and such investments would have quoted in Bricker 1981:39). The "jaguars" and "eagles"
made farmers more vulnerable to thefts. Litigant towns brought back their human prey and arranged to kill
formed alliances coinciding with inter-province bound- them in front of their clients amid much fanfare,
aries, but they also bickered with one another over rights confirming their prowess. Feasts allowed lords to repay
to agricultural land associated with towns or town their loyal followers with public recognition. "The war
clusters. over, the soldiers caused much bother in their towns ...
Within families, ambiguity in rules of inheritance may over compelling others to serve and feast them. And if
have been a source of conflict over land. An estate one of them had killed a captain or a noble, he was
consisting of improvements to land such as houses, fruit highly honored and feasted" (Landa 1941:123).
trees, and cacao groves was divided among the sons. The Political struggle frequently involved plots and
son who had played the greatest part in accumulating the ambushes. One prominent example is the Xiu murder of
property received the largest share. If a man had no sons, the Cocom Itza family that ended in the destruction of
his inheritance went to a brother or cousin on the man's Mayapan in the mid-fifteenth century. The Cocom ruler
side of the family (Roys 1943). One can see room for was pursuing a course of self-aggrandizement, augment-
conflicting claims here. In Late Postclassic times the ing his power with mercenaries from Tabasco in an
paramount and his warrior town heads would have effort to take over the city. Itza nobles conspired with
taken responsibility for resolving commoners' com- Tutul Xiu to invite members of the Cocom family to a
plaints and protecting their clients' interests in battle. banquet and to murder them in the feasting house. One
Cocom survived because he happened to be away on a
Rivalry within the elite class trading mission, and his line continued the conflict in
The Relaciones de Yucatan (1898-1900 quoted in Landa future generations (Roys 1962).
1941:41) state that Maya nobles waged war to seize Peregrinations to sacred shrines at caves and cenotes
property and take captives especially women and chil- that elites had to perform made them vulnerable to
dren, who may have been valued as laborers. Battle attack. In AD 1536 drought struck the province of Tutul
allowed warriors to enhance their social positions and Xiu, and the Governor of Mani, Pot Xiu, led a water
garner plunder. Sacrifices of defeated nobles eliminated pilgrimage to the sacred cenote at Chichen Itza accom-
political competition and allowed the victors access to panied by his lieutenant and eleven lords from adjacent
titles, land, and tributaries. towns. Although Chi Cocom, governor of Otzmal in Itza
territory, assured the Xiu pilgrims of safe-conduct, the
In their wars they made great offerings of the spoils, Cocom murdered them when they reached Otzmal
and if they made a prisoner of some distinguished (Edmonson 1986:40).
man, they sacrificed him immediately, not wishing to
In general the fighting force consisted of commoners,
leave any one alive who might injure them afterward.
who wanted to tend their cornfields when planting season
The rest of the people remained captive in the power
came. Battlefield logistics were a problem. "The town ...
of those who had taken them. (Landa 1941:123)
gave the food, and this the women prepared" (Landa
And so they never had peace, especially when the 1941:123), a time-consuming activity involving the grind-
cultivation was over, and their greatest desire was to ing of considerable quantities of corn. "The men carried
seize important men to sacrifice, because the greater [the food] on their backs for want of beasts of burden; and
the quality of the victim the more acceptable the therefore the wars were of short duration" (p. 123).
service they did to god seemed to them. (p. 217) Territorial expansion occurred when the opportunity
 142 Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl

then the lord of the Pueblo armed his people against

the other, and for that reason they waged war upon
each other. (Relaciones de Yucatan 1898-1900:11, 209,
quoted in Landa 1941:41)

The roots of conflict and alliance building lay in both

internal and external characteristics of Maya polities.
The system of governance allowed many competitors to
vie for power. At the time of conquest, provincial poli-
tical structures ranged from highly centralized polities to
loose confederations depending on the distribution of
power among the ruling patrilineage, the subterritorial
rulers {batabs), and local gentry (ah cuch cabs, "they who
bear the burden of the community") (Farriss 1984:241).
The batabs inherited their office patrilineally and were
often related to the hal ach uinic. Thus, they themselves
had their hereditary claims. They divided the polity into
three or four quarters.
The ah cuch cabs had their own power base as repre-
sentatives of the four wards (cuch tee!) of a community
and presumably of the chiefly lineages therein (Farriss
1984:241; Coe 1965). The ah cuch cabs assembled the
people for feasts and war and collected the tribute. Their
designated leaders were the holpopo ("heads of the
mat"), who oversaw political and ritual activities in the
council houses (popol nab) and acted as the batabs' chief
executive officers (Coe 1965:103).
Religious specialists also wielded their share of power.
Fig. 13.3 The Book of Chilam Balan of Chumayel
They kept the lore of cosmology, ritual, and lineage
depicts the lords of the katuns as European kings
history, including the sacred bark books or codices and
demonstrating the connection between calendrical ritual
ritual bundles. Divine mediation was a two-party affair
and rulership. From The Book of Chilam Balam of
with the rulers delivering the material support and the
Chumayel, by Ralph L. Roys. Copyright 1967 by
priests making the offerings (Farriss 1984:340).
the University of Oklahoma Press.
The Late Postclassic and early colonial political
system involved rotation of offices, and although the
arose. By cooperating with the Spanish conquerors, Don Maya may have intended to dampen factionalism
Pablo Paxbolon, the provincial lord of Tixchel in south- (Farriss 1984:249), the end result was to promote intensi-
west Campeche, not only managed to preserve his fied political maneuvering. The Books of Chilam Balam
domain but actually extended his power far back into the (Edmonson 1982, 1986) document the struggle between
interior, incorporating both new towns and fugitive the Itza and the Xiu over the right to seat the katun, a
Maya from the north (Farriss 1984:150). conflict that began in the Terminal Late Classic or Early
Roys (1943:69) infers the existence of military alli- Postclassic period and continued to preoccupy the Maya
ances between political units from the speed with which even after the arrival of the Spaniards (Edmonson
the warriors of Cupul and Cochuch joined the Cocom of 1982:xvi-xx). The katun was a calendrical period consist-
Sotuta in their attack on the Spaniards at Merida in ing of twenty tuns of 360 days each. Thirteen katuns
1542. Coalitions could easily sour as the following six- made up a cycle (may). At the end of each cycle, tribute
teenth-century Spanish account indicates: rights, land titles, and appointment to public office were
renegotiated. Competition over the seating of the cycle
it was the custom among them to pledge what they was fierce because the honor conferred these rights
possessed to each other; upon collection and payment (Fig. 13.3).
they began to quarrel and attacked each other, and Rotation of office was particularly prevalent among

the lower echelons of elites. The ethnohistoric data for
yearly reshuffling of names suggest that the ah cuch cabs
were advancing up rank and that these career trajecto-
ries proceeded in cyclical fashion like the present-day
religious cargo system in traditional Maya communities
such as Zinacantan (Vogt 1976, Farris 1984:249).
A significant source of internal trouble was ambiguity
in succession to office (Farris 1984). A combination of
hereditary and elective factors determined eligibility for
rulership. The right to rule was a privilege inherited
patrilineally, and the highest office was confined to
members of the dominant lineage. From this select pool
of eligibles, lesser nobles chose the paramount on the
basis of a combination of personal ability, which would
often have included success in warfare, and political and
dynastic alliances. The child of the previous ruler was a
preferred choice, but the Maya did not observe the
principle of primogeniture (Farriss 1984, Hopkins
1988:108). Accession without previous office was
common; rulers might even be designated at an early age
(Farriss 1984:24).
The choice of who was to fill the highest office of a
polity was not an entirely internal affair in practice.
Rulers of other polities tried to influence the outcome in
order to maintain alliances advantageous to themselves.
Since elite families had intermarried, lineages of one
polity often had strong vested interests in the rulership of
other polities.
The events surrounding the fall of Mayapan illustrate
the degree to which polities meddled in each other's
affairs. The League of Mayapan provided for joint rule
with the Xiu lineage dominant in western Yucatan
centered at Uxmal and the Itza lineage pre-eminent in
the east centered at Chichen Itza. Mayapan, situated at
the juncture of these two spheres, was the locus of joint
rule. Katun 8 Ahau (AD 1441-61) was the last katun of
the Xiu may, and the Itza center of Izamal was the
primary seat of the katun. When the lord of Izamal died,
he left four heirs with claims to the governorship. The
Itza of Chichen, who were related to these heirs, decided
to back Ahau Can as the candidate with the best claim.
Nevertheless, Can Ul, whose bid for high office was
probably based on an incestuous relationship, eventually
won out on the strength of his alliance with Hunac Ceel,
the Xiu governor of Uxmal. Hunac Ceel seized the
embassy of priests that the Itza of Chichen had sent to
Izamal and sacrificed them. He expelled the Itza from
Mayapan and destroyed the city. The dissolution of
centralized rule opened the way for unbridled com-
petition. Hunac Ceel claimed to seat the following katun
6 Ahau at Uxmal, but many others claimed the same
Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands 143
privilege, and all of the victors of the conspiracy of
Mayapan disappeared from history in this katun
(Edmonson 1986:38-9).
Class conflict
Maya elites worked at forging a patron-client relation-
ship with the commoners through ritual and military
control, but the bonds were fragile ones. Class conflict
sometimes culminated in revolt or defection on the part
of commoners.
Historically the patron-client bond has weakened
when centralized authority disintegrated or when com-
moners perceived oppression from tribute, taxation, and
the appropriation of resources and labor by the ruling
class. Commoner response has been either armed revolt
or flight, a pattern that has persisted even as late as the
early part of this century (Bricker 1981).
Commoners rose up in the fifteenth century with the
break-up of the League of Mayapan (Edmonson
1986:39). They revolted again in the early colonial era
when they discovered that they had to pay both tribute
to the Itza and taxes to the Spaniards (Edmonson 1982).
They formed their own guerrilla warrior companies in
the woods to defend themselves from the tribute and
captive raids of the marauding nobles. The guerrillas
pillaged the countryside, killing, burning, and stealing
crops and making it impossible for Maya lords to com-
plete their ceremonial visits to collect tribute and
confirm land titles. The warrior companies (e.g., Little
Flints, Coral Snakes, and Ants, the latter name invoking
a particularly horrifying image of destruction well
known to farmers) supported low-born claimants to the
lordship of the katun, who proliferated as the oppor-
tunity to seize power presented itself. Those in power
bitterly referred to such rivals as "moths in beehives"
and "blood-sucking insects who drain the poverty of the
macehuales (commoners)" (Farris 1984:249, 443). Elites
had changed the calendar in order to retain power and
prevent its rotating to their rivals. Now priests and
commoners feuded over reforms to the katun cycle
(Edmonson 1982:78), and some commoners, including
some of the warrior companies, added Christianity to
their religious observances. The result was that native
ceremonialism was in disarray, and few legitimate rulers
were able to finish their terms of political office.
The Spaniards found that Maya commoners were not
only rebellious but also hard to exploit when scattered
about the countryside, and they instituted a policy of
congregating the Indians near larger settlements. The
Spaniards tried to maintain power over peasants
through what remained of the native elite, but their
 144 Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D, Pohl
efforts failed. The environment was so open and the level
of capital investment in subsistence was so low that the
Maya had few qualms about uprooting themselves.
Farriss (1984:200) estimates that in the early colonial
era, more than a third of the population in Yucatan had
at any one time permanently moved from the towns
where the Europeans had tried to congregate the
Indians.
Summary
We would summarize the "core principles of Maya
society" thus: Maya elites had a patron-client society
with power resting on military and ritual control.
Control through ceremonialism or ideology was par-
ticularly effective with those of relatively high status.
Ritual was more than a way of bolstering or legitimizing
power; ritual provided the stage for building power
(Farris 1984:347). Through ritual, elites laid claim to
land titles, political positions, and prestige. These
resources were the focus of intense competition within
the ruling class. The degree of centralization in a polity
depended on the relative power of the ruling patri-
lineage, subterritorial rulers, and local elites.
The ruling class also had a stake in military control.
Political positions included leadership on the battlefield,
and military service provided one means of proving
oneself fit for office as well as acquiring the spoils of war.
Elites could use their military organization to provide
the protection that commoners wanted for their land as
well as to inflict serious damage on those who objected
to paying tribute for their services. This force was a
particularly effective means of controlling commoners.
The extent to which elites could apply force was
limited. Alliances among elites of different polities
resulted in intense maneuvering for power, and disgrun-
tled commoners could exploit the situation by throwing
their support behind the faction that benefited them
most. Commoners could also revolt or flee when
exploitation became too intense. Nevertheless, com-
moners' traditional contract with their lords left them
politically divided, and they never managed to mount a
unified challenge to the patron-client system that would
have brought them true victory over their masters.
The Classic period
New data have demonstrated that many Classic Maya
were as militaristic as their Postclassic descendants. We
adopt a uniformitarian perspective on conflict; warfare
always had both economic and ritual dimensions, and
both elites and commoners had a vested interest in it.
There was no significant change in the nature of warfare
during Preclassic, Classic and Postclassic times, only
changes in the balance of power among those competing.
We hypothesize that alliances, particularly marriage alli-
ances, which were originally intended to resolve conflict,
eventually led to intensified warfare drawing in more
disputants.
Most of the archaeological and epigraphic data refer
to the ruling class, especially the royal family. We have
little information on the commoners because archae-
ologists have primarily focused their efforts on elite
culture and because the remains of commoners are more
ephemeral; they did not cast their social relationships in
stone. Gaps in the evidence exist, but in some respects we
should find the absence of information as intriguing as
its presence. Why, for example, are stelae with inscrip-
tions and royal tombs so common in Peten, Guatemala,
but scarce in adjacent areas of northern Belize?
Classic polities averaged a minimum of 2500 km2, but
political boundaries fluctuated over time (Mathews 1986).
Each polity was headed by a ruler who, with his deified
ancestors, was the focal point of state religion. Para-
mounts are typically covered with god-markings in Maya
art (Schele and Miller 1986), and elites had temples built
to house their tombs. Non-first-born sons from high-
ranking dynasties held supporting positions, and they
might found new centers (Mathews 1986:25). References
to conquests by subsidiary lords indicate that they acted
as war chiefs. The presence of parts of names of parents
suggests that the subsidiary position of cahal or regional
governor was inherited from father to son (Stuart 1989).
External conflict
Warfare generally occurred between adjoining polities
usually between centers 20-40 km apart (Schele and
Mathews 1991). The case of sites in northeast Peten
(Tikal, Uaxactun, Naranjo, Ucanal) and Caracol in
southwestern Belize (Fig. 13.4) illustrates how political
histories might be linked. The sequence of events
appears in Table 13.1.
In some instances a victorious polity ruled a defeated
center, but usually the dominant site did not take on
direct governance. Nevertheless, one would assume that
the victors tried to siphon off labor and prestige goods
that had previously been going to their foes by enticing
commoners to settle in their territory or drawing tribute
from the conquered polity. One problem in studying
political and economic relations between polities is that
comparative studies of population shifts on a regional
level are rare.
We have trouble verifying whether victorious lords
 Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands 145

Table 13.1. An example of competition among polities focusing on the area of northeast Peten, with its dominant
center Tikal, and on Caracol in southwest Belize (see Fig. 13.4).a

Peten Caracol

AD 292 Tikal and Uaxactun emerge as the two largest

Early Classic political centers. Tikal erects early
stela.
AD 378 Great Jaguar Paw of Tikal and his sibling
Smoking Frog defeat Uaxactun and install
Smoking Frog as ruler. Tikal is the dominant
center in Peten.
AD 537 Double Bird takes office at Tikal and erects
paramount temple in which he will be buried.
AD 556 An "axe event"b by the ruler of Tikal against
Caracol provokes war with Tikal. A "Venus" or
"shell/star" event on 29 April 562, marking the
first stationary point of Venus, may commemorate
victory over Double Bird with ritual sacrifice at
Caracol.
AD 600 Disruptions, perhaps internal, after death of
Animal Skull, Double Bird's successor.
Elimination of twin pyramid group for katun rite
and construction of new ball court on East Plaza.
AD 631 Lord Kan II of Caracol defeats Tikal's associate,
Naranjo, in AD 631 and 636. Caracol experiences
greater prosperity and a building surge. Shortly
after AD 650, Caracol may have extended its
power over a large part of Peten.
AD 692 Monuments and burials similar to Caracol.
Ruler A revives former splendor including
restoration of Great Plaza ball court. Tikal and
Naranjo wage war on Ucanal and Yaxha.
Uaxactun reverses fortunes, marked by stela
erection in AD 751.
AD 780 Caracol enters another aggressive phase, defeats
Ucanal, and records another "axe event" against
Tikal c. AD 800.
AD 830 A remnant population at Tikal camps on former Caracol remains warlike through the Terminal
palaces in Terminal Classic times and sacks Classic period.
Double Bird's tomb. Uaxactun retains power and
continues inscriptions.

a
Compiled from Schele and Freidel 1990, Chase and Chase 1989, Haviland 1991, Houston 1991, and Nikolai
Grube, pers. comm. 1990.
b
The "axe event" glyph contains an axe element like that associated with the glyph for batab or war chief and
may represent an actual battle or raid. We argue that the "Venus" or "shell/star" event was a ritual
re-enactment of the battle dramatized as the predator-prey theme at the ceremonial and political center of the
victor.
 146 Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl

UAXACTUN

1
YALOCH
HOLMUL J

V TIKAL

J - '

CALEDONIA

m LA REJOLLA MARIA CAMP

# HATZCAB CEEL
N
CARACOL
L

-TIKAL

\CARACOLC

Fig. 13.4 Map showing the locations of Caracol, Tikal, and other competing polities in northeast Peten and
southwestern Belize (Table 13.1). From Chase and Chase 1989.
 Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands 147

received tribute in part because many tribute items and

prestige goods were perishable commodities or consisted
of labor. One monument from La Pasadita may repre-
sent the symbolic payment of tribute or a ceremony in
which the paramount collected tribute. Inscriptions SPEAR
reveal that the ruler of La Pasadita was made a cahal of
the Yaxchilan polity. The panel shows the cahal present-
ing his lord with a bowl containing lumps of unidentified
material and holding an elaborate headdress (Schele and
Miller 1986:137).
Other evidence of tribute extraction may come from
the migration of art styles. When the ruler of Tonina
captured Kan-Xul of Palenque, the art style of the cap- -SHIELD
tured site appeared at Tonina, though only briefly. This JAGUAR AND
may reflect the relocation of craftsmen to the victorious MITT DARTS
site (Miller 1989).
Populations shifted (Chase and Chase 1989). For
example, as Caracol became an aggressive political force
about the mid sixth century AD (Table 13.1), population TLALOG
at the former site rose dramatically, increasing by 325 MASK
percent in 130 years. There is evidence for increased
availability of labor; causeways and agricultural terraces
were built. There was heightened wealth at the site in the
form of expanded caches of high-status goods. Wealth JAGUAR
was shared. Tombs were widespread and fine grave BOOTS
goods were as elaborate in burials located in the site's
neighborhoods as those in the site's epicenter. We can
see that powerful centers were successful in luring sup- LORD OF
porters into their orbit, but we would like to know more SEIBAL
about where the newcomers came from.
Victorious lords also attempted to destroy the power
of a defeated polity by desecrating the sacred
monuments, idols, and ancestral tombs that documented
a ruler's claim on divine authority. Late Classic tombs in
the southern Lowlands (e.g., at Altun Ha, Pendergast Fig. 13.5 Stele 16, Dos Pilas, shows Ruler 3, dressed as
1986) were extensively looted in antiquity. A large a jaguar victorious over Paw Jaguar, divine lord of
number of jades from Late Classic tombs were thrown Seibal. Drawing from Graham and von Euw 1977.
into the Sacred Cenote at Chichen Itza (Proskouriakoff
1974) and placed in caves (Pohl and Pohl 1983). Bones Some victors could not resist proclaiming their
were desecrated. Archaeologists have frequently prowess at the defeated site. For example, after Caracol
encountered human bones in the central areas of the defeated Naranjo in AD 631 (Table 13.1), Caracol
political/ceremonial centers they have excavated (e.g., recorded the event on a monument carved in Caracol
at Uaxactun, Ledyard Smith, pers. comm. 1974). These style. It was thirty years before Naranjo began recording
bones might be the remains of sacrificial victims, but its own inscriptions again (Schele and Mathews 1991).
alternatively, when tombs were denuded of their jades, Dos Pilas' rulers assumed direct authority over a
the remains of the ancestors may have been thrown into defeated center (Houston and Mathews 1985). Inscrip-
the plazas. tions on monuments tell us that Ruler 1 acceded to
Bonampak provides an example of the defacement of office in AD 645 and built power through conquest as
monuments. The Bonampak murals were never finished. well as marriage to women from Itzan, El Chorro, and
The site was abandoned, and someone scratched out rep- Naranjo. Ruler 2 accepted the fealty of Arroyo de
resentations of the ruling paramount's face (Miller 1986). Piedra/Tamarindito, whose local ruler was the son of a
 148 Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl

Fig. 13.6 Lintel 6, Structure 1, Yaxchilan, shows Bird Jaguar, in a jaguar

headdress, and his cahal, both holding jaguar clubs. Drawing from Graham and
von Euw 1977.

Dos Pilas woman. Rulers 3 and 4 had more aggressive
military campaigns, capturing the lords of Seibal (Fig.
13.5), Cancuen, and El Chorro and defeating Yaxchilan.
The seat of the polity was moved to Aguateca and
Seibal. The expansion ended when the overlord of one of
the defeated polities captured Ruler 4. By AD 791 Dos
Pilas and Aguateca had stopped raising monuments, and
formerly subsidiary centers began to erect their own
stelae.
Fortifications from southwestern Peten, Guatemala,
complement this evidence for intense warfare at the end
of the eighth century AD. Dos Pilas was fortified with
concentric rings of hastily constructed ramparts, prob-
ably topped with a barricade of wood or thorny plants.
Nearby inhabitants of a small site, Punta de Chimino,
surrounded themselves with earthworks and a moat
(Demarest and Houston 1989).
Internal conflict
Internal disputes were evidently as significant as wars.
Wards within a site may have been the loci of competing
lineages or factions (see Fox, this volume). Causeways
may divide sites into four wards at Seibal (Tourtellot
1989) and Ek Balam (Bey and Ringle 1989). At Sayil two
or three pyramids associated with large residences at the
borders of the site may have been entrance markers like

Fig. 13.7 Lintel 8, Structure 1, Yaxchilan, depicts Bird Jaguar and his cahal
grasping Jeweled Skull and another captive in a ritual re-enactment of Jeweled
Skull's defeat. Drawing from Graham and von Euw 1977.
those Bishop Landa described (Tourtellot 1989). Fox
(1989) proposes that a tripartite division typified Classic
civilization and may go back to the Preclassic El
Mirador. Council houses at Copan (Fash and Fash
1990), Ek Balam (Bey and Ringle 1989), and Chichen
Itza (Schele and Freidel 1990) reflect the presence of
competing interests within the polities.
The most compelling argument for power struggles
within a polity comes from interregna and high turnover
in office holders. For example, a rapid succession of
rulers at Tikal before the accession of Double Bird hints
at instability and power struggles within Tikal (Peter
Mathews, pers. comm. 1989).
At least two lineages were prominent in the political
affairs of Yaxchilan. Men and women are named either
"Skull" (Lady Ik Skull, Jeweled Skull) or "Jaguar"
(Shield Jaguar, Bird Jaguar), and the names appear to be
clustered in different areas of the site (Tate 1992). The
position of paramount shifted among individuals with
these names throughout the Classic period (Mathews
1988). The case of the Late Classic ruler Bird Jaguar is
particularly intriguing. Ten years elapsed between the
Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands 149
death of Shield Jaguar in AD 742 and the accession of
his son Bird Jaguar. Perhaps Bird Jaguar vied for office
with a rival from the Skull lineage. Tatiana Proskouria-
koff (1963) suggests that Bird Jaguar was not the desig-
nated heir. Bird Jaguar's mother Lady Ik Skull was not
the same individual who is named as Shield Jaguar's
principal consort, Lady Xoc.
Bird Jaguar's building program suggests that his posi-
tion as paramount was insecure (Schele and Freidel
1990). Bird Jaguar departed from his father's style by
depicting himself with figures other than his consort,
such as a visiting dignitary from Yaxha, and his own
cahals, one of whom was his brother-in-law. A
monument was even erected in his tributary site of La
Pasadita commemorating his visit to the local cahal
(Schele and Mathews 1991). Thus, the emphasis is on
Bird Jaguar's building a new power base in the absence
of more traditional mechanisms for the transition of
authority.
Yaxchilan Structure 1 (Schele and Miller 1986:210-13)
may provide further evidence of internal competition.
Lintel 6 (Fig. 13.6), dated seven months after Bird
 150 Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl

Fig. 13.8 Lintel 58, Structure 54, Yaxchilan, depicts Bird Jaguar (right)
attended by his brother-in-law (left), the cahal Great Skull. Drawing from
Graham and von Euw 1977.

Jaguar's accession, shows Bird Jaguar and his cahal
holding jaguar paw clubs, and the text identifies the
cahal as the captor of an important noble named Jeweled
Skull. Lintel 8 (Fig. 13.7) depicts Bird Jaguar and the
same cahal later menacing Jeweled Skull and a captive
cahal. This scene contains motifs of the goggle-eyed
Mexican rain deity Tlaloc, which generally appears in
pictures showing defeated lords with emblem glyphs of
different polities. The fact that Jeweled Skull has no
emblem glyph suggests that Bird Jaguar perceived his

Fig. 13.9 The Kimbell panel shows a war captain
(right) presenting his lord Shield Jaguar II (left) with
captives. Shield Jaguar II later rewarded the noble with
the position 0/cahal. Drawing from Schele and Miller
1986.
competitive status as analogous, but that Jeweled Skull
came from within the Yaxchilan polity.
Lesser officials, who were often blood relations, joined
the struggle among highest-ranking elites as a way of
advancing their own social positions. The cahal Great
Skull Zero, brother of Bird Jaguar's consort, may have
risen to prominence in this way. In the Great Skull
family compound (Structure 54), Great Skull Zero, who
holds up a battle-axe, is shown with Bird Jaguar, who
holds a God K scepter signifying divine sanction of his
right to rule (Fig. 13.8). The Kimbell panel (Fig. 13.9),
which probably comes from Laxtunich in the Usuma-
cinta river valley about AD 785, demonstrates how
nobles enhanced their status by serving their lords in
war. It depicts a noble dressed in a military outfit,
presenting captives to his lord Shield Jaguar II, who
succeeded Bird Jaguar at Yaxchilan in AD 771.
Monuments now in Europe record that Shield Jaguar II
seated this noble as a cahal two and one half years after
Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands 151
the events shown in the panel (Schele and Miller
1986:226).
Alliance and struggle
Alliance was a method of augmenting the political and
economic strength of a ruler. Alliance partners might
contribute military aid, provide high-status goods with
which to buy supporters' fealty, or lend their prestige.
Alliances appear in the inscriptions as marriages, or
more precisely as parentage statements implying mar-
riage, and as visitations by paramounts or their repre-
sentatives that mark the celebration of significant events
such as accession, heir-naming, or katun endings
through rituals of consumption. In general they range
more widely than wars (Mathews 1986; Stuart 1989;
Schele and Mathews 1991).
Some marriages linked distant polities, for example
the alliance between a woman of Palenque and the ruler
of Copan (Fash 1989). Other marriages may have been
attempts to consolidate territory within a polity. For
example, the consort of Ruler 3 at Piedras Negras may
have come from an independent place known as the
Serpent Segment Site, between the large centers of
Piedras Negras and Yaxchilan, which may have been
disputed by the two centers (Miller 1989).
Dos Pilas illustrates how by Late Classic times many
high-ranking dynasties had established marriage ties
both with secondary centers within their polity and with
other polities (Mathews 1986). The inscriptions record
marriages with the independent polities of El Chorro,
Itzan, Tamarindito, Naranjo, and probably Tikal.
Lineage members also ruled the dependent centers of
Aguas Calientes, La Amelia, El Caribe, Seibal, and
Chapayal.
Many Mayanists believe that marriages contribute
political stability, but the borderline between alliance
and conflict was tenuous. Competition for advantageous
marriages must have been keen, and arrangements might
be canceled if relations soured or if more favorable
opportunities arose. Since the Maya nobility practiced
polygyny, the end result of marriage alliances would
have been to increase the number of claimants to power.
Marriages would have produced many offspring who
could make competing claims to office, and the ubiqui-
tous appearance of royal titles in the inscriptions bears
out this prediction.
The rules of inheritance made women pivotal in the
transfer of power (Hopkins 1988). The monuments indi-
cate that women served as regents to underaged off-
spring as at Piedras Negras (e.g., Proskouriakoff 1960)
and even ruled centers such as Palenque (Hopkins 1988)
 152 Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl
Table 13.2. Royal visits, marriages, and warfare (or warfare re-enactment) between polities recorded in glyphic texts
from the Classic period (from Schele and Mathews 1991). The data refer only to inter-polity relations involving
foreign emblem glyphs but reflect the overall trend from alliance building to conflict (Marcus 1976).
Interaction Number
Royal visits 20
Interdynastic marriage 9 AD 662-780
Warfare 16
on a permanent basis. Since titles were largely passed
down patrilineally, a woman might inherit a high posi-
tion, and if she herself did not rule, her husband would.
If a son succeeded, rulership would pass to the lineage of
the husband, and this switch in power relationships
would potentially have been another source of conflict.
The political significance of women also appears archae-
ologically. Excavators have discovered elaborate female
burials at several Classic period sites.
Structural change: factionalism in Classic Maya society
As competition intensified, the Maya pursued a strategy
of alliance formation (Table 13.2) which may have
increased the scale of violence and eliminated elite
leadership. The political vacuum left by weakened
dynasties encouraged pretenders and outsiders to bid for
power. A radical transformation of society ensued.
Competition in the southern Lowlands was evident by
the Late Preclassic period. There are signs of warfare
and site abandonment. Fortifications appear at sites
such as Becan (Webster 1977) and El Mirador (Dahlin
1984). Dissolution of polities began by AD 50 (e.g.,
Cerros). Competition is also evident in ceremonial
elaboration. At Late Preclassic Cerros, Lamanai, Tikal,
El Mirador, and Uaxactun, Maya elites competed by
constructing strikingly similar stepped pyramids decor-
ated with large masks flanking the central stairways
(Freidel 1986; Pendergast 1986; Matheny 1986).
The stela cult reveals that factionalism spread during
the Early Classic period. Around AD 238 the inscrip-
tions shifted from ceremonial bloodletting to a focus on
individual rulers: their birth, parentage, accession, right
to rule, and significant events that he or she celebrated
with family, officials, and clients (e.g., bloodletting,
katun period endings, and elimination of rivals)
(Mathews 1985:49).
At first, the Maya experimented with royal portraits,
but by the Period of Uniformity (9.12.15.0.0 to 9.16.5.0.0
Date range Median date
AD 435-790 AD 537
AD 702
AD 56^794 AD 738
or AD 687 to 756), the style and motif of monuments
were particularly homogeneous and conservative. The
Maya erected more than one half of all known monu-
ments during this eighty-year period. The majority of
non-local emblem glyphs occurred on these stelae, and
the emphasis was on alliances, including marriages
(Marcus 1976). At the end of the Late Classic and into
the Terminal Classic period, the inscriptions shifted
from alliance to warfare and what we interpret as com-
memoration of warfare through ritual gladiatorial
combat. At Yaxchilan, for example, Shield Jaguar
credited himself with four captives. Bird Jaguar was the
captor of twenty. Shield Jaguar II captured at least ten
nobles over a period of five years. From AD 692 to the
beginning of the ninth century, a multiplicity of "Venus
events," perhaps ritual gladiatorial combats involving
captives, indicate a crescendo of bloodshed. Such rituals
brought the war home by re-enacting battles through
ceremonial combat with defeated warriors. While the
last monuments at sites such as Piedras Negras, Yaxchi-
lan, and Bonampak all declared victory, these polities
dissolved soon afterwards (Miller 1989).
This turn of events is just what one would expect from
political factionalism. Marriage alliances among polities
transferred violence from a local level to a regional scale,
synchronizing warfare.
Political instability from violence provided an oppor-
tunity for new players and former losers to enter the
political game. At the end of the Late Classic period and
especially in the Terminal Late Classic period many
smaller sites began erecting monuments (Marcus 1976).
From AD 830-909, over 40 percent of the centers
erected monuments for the first time. Uaxactun, for-
merly dominated by Tikal, recommenced inscriptions.
However, centers that erected the majority of earlier
monuments declined. For example, at Copan after
AD 780 inscriptions appeared in the residences of the
local nobles, and some nobles in small outlying sites even
had their own emblem glyphs. The last known ruler,

Fig. 13.10 The Leiden plaque shows a ruler at his
inauguration in AD 320. The paramount wears a jaguar
headdress and stands over a noble war captive and
potential sacrificial victim with deer antlers. Drawing
from Schele and Miller 1986.
Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands 153
Yax-Pac, was recorded as making royal visits to outlying
sites, rather than receiving subordinates at his seat of
power, a sure sign of weakness (Fash 1989).
Lesser elites were taking advantage of the political
upheaval. Non-first-born sons who had founded smaller
centers (Mathews and Willey 1991) and cahals who had
served paramounts may have seized power and prestige.
The result was political fragmentation in the southern
Lowlands with small political units asserting their genea-
logical or even ethnic identity.
Maya from the north and west may also have manipu-
lated the fragmented political conditions to their advan-
tage. In Terminal Classic/Early Postclassic times, build-
ings and ceramics show connections with Yucatan or the
Chontalpa (Fox 1987). It is not certain whether the
Maya of Yucatan and the Chontalpa were extending
their spheres southward or whether colonists replaced
local elites. At Colha, evidence for change in ethnicity
follows the assassination of the indigenous dynasty.
Excavators found thirty decapitated and defleshed skulls
of men, women, and children in a pit at the base of a
purposively destroyed pyramid (Hester, Shafer, and
Eaton 1982).
The Itza and Xiu and allied lineages from the Chon-
talpa intermarried with local elites and became the domi-
nant political force in the areas into which they
migrated. Interlopers may have specifically used alli-
ances as a way of insinuating their presence and eventu-
ally establishing hegemony. In early historic times, Pax-
balon's successful empire building in Campeche was
based upon collaboration with the Spaniards, including
the marriage of his daughter to a prominent Spanish
immigrant (Scholes and Roys 1948).
The ritual dimension of political factionalism
Classic Maya ritual centered on recounting the victories
of the ruling lineage and proclaimed to all that the
paramount had the right to rule and the power to defend
his clients. Ceremonial celebrations provided the ruler
with a forum for rewarding courageous supporters with
feasts in their honor, promotions to higher office, and
monuments showing loyal cahals attending him. The
rites also rallied commoners by emphasizing "ethnic"
differences from other political units, using a predator-
prey theme. The ruler assumed the form of a jaguar or
vulture, the top predators of earth and sky, and oppo-
nents assumed the role of the prey, deer or peccary (Figs.
13.5 and 13.10). For instance, in the Leiden plaque (Fig.
13.10), the ruler Balam-Ahau-Chaan announces his
accession in AD 320 wearing a jaguar headdress and
standing over a bound captive with a deer antler and an
 154 Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl
ahau or lord sign on his head marking him as a defeated
noble (Schele and Miller 1986:120-1)
The predator-prey theme marks accession and katun
endings of the cuch rite (Fig. 13.2). Lintel 6 at Yaxchi-
lan (Fig. 13.6) shows that Bird Jaguar, dressed as a
jaguar, and his cahal clawed Jeweled Skull with jaguar
clubs that they hold, enacting predatory roles. We
interpret Lintel 8 (Fig. 13.7) as a separate rite involving
ritual gladiatorial combat or battle re-enactment held
at the ceremonial/political center rather than field
warfare.3
Present-day Maya rituals (Vogt 1976, Bricker 1981),
such as Carnival and Saint Sebastian in Highland
Chiapas and Guatemala, enact gladiatorial combats.
Today, jaguars and their companions the blackmen, who
may originally have been vultures, survive, and the bull
has replaced the deer. Carnival is also marked by the
display of the instruments of Christ's torment, especially
his being whipped, nailed to the cross, and speared in the
side. These actions have precolumbian counterparts in
bloodletting, scaffold sacrifice, and spearing.
Different facets of Classic Maya ritual embodied sanc-
tions providing control over different segments of
society. Nobles viewed the gladiatorial combats and
ceremonial sacrifices as documentation of elite lineage
disputes. The ethnic dimension validated the patron-
client relationship with those of lower status. The
predator-prey drama exaggerated the contrasts between
the group members and "outsiders," who might be
people living in the adjacent polity.
The ecological and economic dimension of political
factionalism
Shifting economic and ecological factors played a sig-
nificant role in the patterns that we perceive. We note
that the intensity of factionalism varied according to
whether wetland or dryland farming was the dominant
mode of agriculture and especially whether intensive or
extensive technologies prevailed. We also have prelimi-
nary evidence for political consequences of changes in
sea level and climate.
There is a contradiction between optimum geo-
graphical area and optimum political unit in many tropi-
cal areas. The tropical forest environment is relatively
fragile, and population density tends to be low. Elite
power depends on maximizing population mass and
hence income from tribute.
Institutionalization of authority was widespread by
the Late Preclassic period in areas where fertile soils had
relatively high potential for surplus production. Peten
had relatively large areas of productive soils. Swidden
would have been the dominant form of agriculture with
some double cropping. In northern Belize, the best soils
were peats lining the river flood plains. By 1400 BC the
Maya farmed these wetland soils intensively in the dry
season along with upland soils in the wet season, and in
the Late Preclassic they ditched these wetland fields for
drainage to counteract rising water levels. The agri-
cultural base allowed successful farmers in northern
Belize and adjacent Peten, Guatemala, to pursue poli-
tical ambitions.
As early as the Preclassic period competition was
more intense in the rainfall-dependent areas than in the
wetland areas. In dryland areas emergent elites would
have had to try to increase income by controlling labor,
i.e., increasing tributaries, and hence polities would have
collided sooner. As elites tried to bring larger areas
under jurisdiction, they may have increased military
control to force farmers to subscribe to the patron-client
relationship. Elites may also have invested more heavily
in display in an effort to tie supporters to a specific
locality and counteract the centripetal tendencies of
swidden farming.
In northern Belize, productive wetland cultivation tied
farmers to the land, especially after they increased their
investment and perhaps improved their tenurial status
with intensive canal building in Late Preclassic times.
Wetland farming during the dry season combined with
upland cultivation in the wet season would have pro-
vided stable, year-round surplus, which could be dedi-
cated to elite institutions.
In Terminal Classic/Early Postclassic times, the
balance of power shifted. Political factionalism deci-
mated the polities in the rainfall-dependent areas of
Peten while environmental changes permitted the resur-
gence of wetland farming and continued support of
centers in northern Belize in the wetland zone.
Structural change: the commoners
As the Late Classic period progressed, the number of
housemounds in many areas of the southern Lowlands
reached maximum density. Lake cores and flood plain
sediments from both Peten, Guatemala, and northern
Belize (e.g., Vaughan, Deevey, and Garrett-Jones 1985)
provide evidence for extensive deforestation, erosion,
and loss of soil nutrients by the Terminal Classic period.
Elite monopoly of the best lands probably accentuated
commoner problems with falling agricultural pro-
duction. One would expect that commoners experienced
increasing conflict over land within families, among
neighbors, and between polities. Such conflict would

have come at a time when elite patrons, who tradi-
tionally protected their clients' land, were more and
more preoccupied with their own inter- and intra-
dynastic warfare. Historically the absence of elite land
protection resulted in dislocation of populations (Jones
1991).
In many respects the interests of elites and commoners
were diverging as they competed for scarce resources.
The case of forest resources provides a good example of
the problem. The competitive bids for power by the elites
required active building programs, necessitating wood
for beams and lintels and especially for the production of
plaster through firing of limestone. Warfare and raiding
no doubt necessitated the erection of wooden barriers
around elite compounds. The commoners depended on
forest products for houses, firewood, production of
household ceramics, medicines, and canoes. Firewood
consumption undoubtedly constituted a significant
cause of deforestation. Present-day rates of consumption
are estimated at one ton per capita per year (Abrams and
Rue 1988).
Nobles wanted commoner labor and the prestige
goods that commoners paid in tribute, especially cotton
textiles for display, prestations, payment of brideprice,
and funerary offerings. The production of cotton textiles
was labor-intensive given the technology available to the
prehistoric Maya, i.e., in the absence of pesticides, the
cotton gin, and sophisticated weaving equipment.
Elite demands for service and the destruction of
resources resulting from endemic warfare may have dis-
rupted commoner subsistence. Rival nobles may have
exploited commoner discontent in mustering support for
their bids for power at the end of the Classic period. One
strategy that relatively resource-poor second sons and
ambitious cahals might have used would have been to
promise commoners reduction in tribute or more equita-
ble land distribution, a tactic employed historically in
nineteenth-century Yucatan for example (Bricker
1981).
It is clear that by the end of the Classic period patron-
client relationships, always fragile, fell apart and that
while elite rivals were killing each other off, many com-
moners in the southern Lowlands dropped out, as
evident in the dramatic decline in housemounds at sites
in Peten, Guatemala, and southern Mexico by AD 950.
Some commoners may simply have dropped out of sight,
i.e., built houses at ground level rather than on mounds.
With the disappearance of elites, there would have been
less incentive to engage in former patterns of consump-
tion inherent in the patron-client relationship such as
investment in elaborate house construction.
Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands 155
Pollen from the central Peten lakes (Brenner, Leyden,
and Binford 1990) and from dog coprolites at Tikal
(Wiseman, pers. comm. 1987) indicates the continued
presence of cultivators. In fact the evidence from central
Peten suggests that farmers may have persisted
throughout the Postclassic period and that the forest
only regenerated about the time the Spaniards arrived
and disrupted native populations. Don Rice (1986)
stresses the continuation of elite culture in the erection of
monuments and construction of temple structures in
central Peten and suggests that commoners coalesced
around the new nobles who may have come from
Yucatan or the Chontalpa.
At Copan, commoners carried on in the absence of
their masters, and they continued to inhabit the area for
four hundred years after elites erected the last monument
(Rue 1987). At some sites such as Tikal (Culbert 1973)
commoners moved into the elite precincts using former
palaces and temples as residences. We suggest that com-
moners at Tikal who were resetting stelae and redeposit-
ing looted tomb offerings were appropriating Maya
ceremonialism for their own much as they later appro-
priated Christianity.
Northern Belize is distinctive for continuity of civili-
zation through the "Collapse" in the ninth and tenth
centuries AD. A significant factor in the lack of disrup-
tion in northern Belize must have been renewed oppor-
tunities for wetland farming, which probably dated to
the Terminal Classic/Early Postclassic period and
perhaps later. Wetland farming would have provided
surplus for elites and reduced pressures on commoners.
These tributaries supported the elites throughout the
Postclassic period at sites such as Lamanai (Pendergast
1986).
Many Maya may have left the southern Lowlands,
moving to the northern Lowlands where growing poli-
ties such as Chichen Itza, Uxmal, and Sayil would have
welcomed new tributaries.
Structural change: Terminal Classic and Postclassic
Maya society in Yucatan
Terminal Late Classic and Postclassic rulership in
Yucatan had a different balance of power. The focus
shifted from a single dominant divine lord to groups of
rulers, and mul tepal or cojoined rule (Schele and Freidel
1990) characterized the major political units. In addi-
tion, the highest ranking priest, the Balam, governed the
entire country katun by katun, rotating the office among
qualified nobles (Edmonson 1982:25-6). The Postclassic
strategy of confining the principal players to a single
center such as Mayapan (perhaps in effect holding some
 156 Mary E. D. Pohl and John M. D. Pohl
hostage) and providing for rotation of power through
the katun cycle may have permitted some periods of
relatively centralized rule. Nevertheless, the overall
result was renewed conflict with more contestants.
The priestly ranks gained power in the wake of
Classic-period factional disputes among lords over the
more secular political positions. By Postclassic times the
Maya were ceasing to build pyramids to house their
deified rulers. Instead elite construction focused on
deities; an example is the Temple of the Feathered
Serpent or Quetzalcoatl at Mayapan. The arrangement
of the structures may have changed. Diane Chase
(1986:366) notes that although Late Postclassic sites
were probably arranged in barrios like Classic sites,
there was a tendency toward more central areas with
both religious and administrative structures. At
Mayapan, for example, the Temple of the Feathered
Serpent lay at the center of the site. Monuments no
longer focused on the divine paramount; ritual para-
phernalia such as censers ceased to represent rulers and
were totally given over to the portrayal of gods (Freidel
1986:297).
Competing lineages may have intentionally shifted the
attention to deities as well as sharing of responsibility for
political office to dampen factionalism in the Postclassic
period, or more likely this arrangement was the logical
outcome of Classic-period factionalism. Priests usurped
the metaphorical role of the secular rulers. The high
priest not only wore the insignia of the snake, symboliz-
ing his connection with caves, cenotes, oracles, and the
ancestors, he had become the jaguar (Balam), the animal
supernatural that secular rulers had represented in the
Classic period. The katun celebrations over which the
Balam presided contained the celebration of the history
and myth of the ruling lineages.
Spanish observations of native life provide more evi-
dence for the increasing power of priests. Bishop Landa
(Roys 1962:60) recounted continuing factionalism after
the fall of Mayapan, and his remarks betray the fact that
descendants of priests such as the Chel lineage were laying
claim to rulership: "the Chel said that he was as good as
they (the Cocom and Xiu) in lineage, since he was the
grandson of the most esteemed priest of Mayapan."
Conclusion
Political factionalism played the critical role in shaping
Lowland Maya society. Our hypothesis is that conflict
originated with those who had close connections. Elite
competition over positions of power and the means of
supporting them started among members of a lineage,
between lineages within a polity, or between adjacent
polities. Contenders formed alliances with outsiders in
an effort to achieve dominance, but the result was to
increase the number of players with a vested interest in
the outcome of the dispute. Thus, a strategy of alliance
would in the end intensify competition.
Competition was widespread in the southern Maya
Lowlands by Late Preclassic times after 400 BC. Elite
investment in pyramids and fortifications attests to the
need to attract followers and defend assets. In the Early
Classic period after AD 200, nobles began to record their
relationships with one another in inscriptions. Early
Classic elites recorded alliances in the form of visitations
among polities and a few marriages, all apparently
within the polity. By Late Classic times, lords cemented
ties by attending significant ceremonies at each other's
centers and intermarrying with other polities as well as
within their own political sphere. A significant change
occurred during the course of the Late Classic period.
Records of warfare and ritual gladiatorial combat
increase, and archaeological evidence for fortifications
reinforces this picture of a combative society. The last
monuments at sites such as Yaxchilan, Bonampak, and
Piedras Negras all recorded victory, but these polities
disappeared soon afterwards.
As Classic elite society was wreaking destruction upon
itself, political systems underwent a change in configur-
ation. Outsiders from the Gulf Coast area of Chontalpa
entered the Classic Maya heartland and wrested power
from the indigenous nobility. Power shifted from the
divine ruler to joint rule, and the priests were an increas-
ingly significant political force. There were now more
contenders than ever, and the foreign nobles were not
able to curb factionalism within their own ranks. The
situation was ripe for exploitation by the invading
Spaniards, and many Maya nobles, preoccupied as they
were with their petty rivalries, actually joined with the
Europeans in crushing their own people.
The data on commoners are much more sparse, but we
suspect that they were preoccupied with their own con-
flicts over land, inheritance, and so forth. They looked to
elite patrons for physical and divine protection and
dispute resolution, and Maya lords and later the Spanish
conquerors recognized an opportunity to extract goods
and labor in exchange for their services. Nevertheless,
when elite political systems weakened or when com-
moners perceived that they were unduly exploited, they
became mobile and difficult to control. This pattern
occurred repeatedly but was especially prevalent with
political chaos at the end of the Classic period (ninth to
tenth centuries AD), with the breakup of the League of

Mayapan in Late Postclassic times (mid-fifteenth
century AD), and with turmoil in elite government
caused by the arrival of the Spaniards and additional
taxation that they imposed (sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries AD).
The native nobility manipulated commoners to
support their inter- and intra-dynastic struggles through
such devices as ritual re-enactments of their victories on
the battlefield. This fostering of "ethnic" identity made it
difficult for commoners to unite in resisting exploitation.
Nevertheless, commoners may have used this ritual, divi-
sive as it is, as a means of self-preservation on the
community level. Local Maya fashioned their own brand
of resistance by appropriating ritualism as early as the
Terminal Late Classic period at Tikal. Under Spanish
domination, the Mayas' most effective strategy for main-
taining cultural integrity has been syncretization of
indigenous ceremonialism with Christianity, a process
compatible with their view that events continually repeat
themselves within a basic structure, i.e., the victor-
vanquished theme.
Our paper suggests that characteristics of Maya social
and political organization resulted in recurrent patterns
of competition. We see Maya society of the Postclassic
period as being similar to Classic civilization in the
variables that produced factional competition. Post-
classic society was different in that it represented the
outcome of the structural changes that competition had
produced.
A cknowledgments
We would like to thank Elizabeth Brumfiel and John
Fox for inviting us to participate in this volume and
providing valuable feedback in shaping our paper.
Political factionalism in the Maya Lowlands 157
Others who have generously taken the time to provide us
with help are Arlen and Diane Chase, Clemency
Coggins, Kathryn Josserand, Nicholas Hopkins, John
Henderson, Nikolai Grube, and Peter Mathews.
Notes
1 We are using the period designations Preclassic,
Classic, Terminal Classic, and Postclassic loosely in
this paper. It has become increasingly apparent that
this system of named and dated periods does not apply
to the Maya Lowlands, precisely because of the fac-
tionalism described in this paper. For example, the
Late Preclassic period ended at AD 200 in Peten,
Guatemala, but lasted until AD 400 in Yucatan. At
some sites there never was any Terminal Classic
period.
2 The Late Classic Bonampak murals show the same
gladiatorial combat ceremony as that commemorated
in the Yaxchilan lintels. The paintings in Room 2 of
Bonampak show a mass sacrifice while the Yaxchilan
lintels focused only on the central characters. At Bon-
ampak the ruler Chaan-Muan grasps the hair of his
captive just as Bird Jaguar and his cahal grasp Jeweled
Skull and the defeated cahal in Yaxchilan Lintel 8.
The jaguar and vulture sacrificers appear at positions
28 and 54 (see Miller 1986, Fig. 2 for numerical desig-
nations and their positions). In the facing panel the
central captive is not specifically represented as a deer,
but the priestlyfigurestanding above him is dressed as
that animal. The dead captive's body is covered with
long scratch marks, perhaps representing the gashes
left by a jaguar paw club or mitt similar to objects
shown in Yaxchilan Lintel 6 (Fig. 13.6) and Dos Pilas
Stela 16 (Fig. 13.5).
 14
Political cosmology among
the Quiche Maya
JOHN W. FOX
Introduction: competition among segmentary lineages
The Lowland Mayan ancestors of the Quiche entered
the Guatemalan Highlands at the close of the Classic
period (AD late 800s), and confederated during the
Early Postclassic (AD 1100s). Factionalism permeated
these political fields. This chapter examines the political
and ideological transformations that resulted from
competition (1) between the contending Quiche groups
as well as (2) between the Quiche and the peoples they
subjugated. In both contexts, the Venusian calendar for
lineage identities and for timing battles intermeshed
with the 260-day calendar for personal prognostication
(e.g. Popol Vuh 1971:243^4); the solar calendar bound
competing lineages within a state. The inter-digitating
of the three calendars furnished an ideological calculus
for spacing the contentious descent groups and for
allotting political prerogatives. In essence, as celestial
bodies traveled through various calendrical repetitions,
the social actors vied for identities and privileges that
mirrored cosmic orderings. The incessant competition
for prestige and political leverage provided a dynamic
propelling transformation of egalitarian alliances to
successively more coercive and hierarchical social
exchange.
The chain of political contests from ethnohistory cor-
relates with successive transformations in settlement pat-
terns. That is, power relations are reflected in site plans
where specific architecture of known lineages is keyed to
specific solar, lunar, planetary, and stellar positions and
clusters, especially solstices, equinoxes, conjunctions,
and helical risings/settings.
158
Numerology and political calculus
To summarize the Popol Vuh (1971:3-19), in the night
sky Orion was the Creator of the cosmic order - The
Heart of Heaven - who wedded the celestial beings
(constellations) with the Green Feathered Serpent
(K'ucumatz). The Serpent bore the thirteen celestial
bodies and eventually the Sun, which arose shortly after
the Quiche ancestors were created. Thirteen political
divisions were welded together on the cosmic model.
Thus, the Quiche designed their communities as
miniature versions of the cosmos that unified the
Upperworld (sky: Kaf), Middleworld (earth: Uleu),
and Underworld (Xibalba) into a single political field.
Statuses within the body politic were thought to be
celestially preordained. In essence, the sun's daily path
provided a cosmogram for managing a separate sacred
w
Q (Venus)
UNDERWORLD
Fig. 14.1 Arrangement of the four Quiche major
lineages according to the cardinal directions. The four
groups were unified by the cyclical movements of the sun,
moon, and Venus. The Sky Serpent, K'ucumatz, is
reconstructed from Quichean sculpture (e.g., Fox
1981:Fig.6); the drawing of the Classic Maya
crocodilian, center, is from Schele and Miller (1986:45).
While the earth emerged as a mountain from the sea
illuminated by the Sky Serpent (Topol Vuh 1971:12-13),
it was probably conceptualized as round and divided
within by a cross.

direction by each group (Fig. 14.1). In the counterclock-
wise movement of the sun (Kij), east (E) signified the
newborn sun and political ascendancy, north (N) the
overarching sun at midday and high authority, west (W)
the sun's decline towards dusk - associated with fertility
- and finally south (S) the malnourished sun - as a
decapitated Junajpu - traversing the dark and forebod-
ing Underworld of the night sky. Furthermore, the sun
(right) and Venus (left, E was up aboriginally) were
carried E to W by the two-headed Sky Serpent (K'ucu-
matz). This reptile provided the metaphor for common
descent and for lineage fissioning and migration like the
ever-moving head of Junajpu in the ball game myth.
Then, the planets were carried N-S along the ecliptic or
the Milky Way during the night conceptualized as a
world tree (Schele 1992:132).
Quiche aboriginal maps are circular for the concentric
circles of Orion on a turtle carapace at the heart of the
cosmos (see Fox and Fernandez n.d.). In fact, the outer-
most of three rings in the Sacapulas map shows twenty-
eight place markers, perhaps for the twenty-eight repe-
titions of thirteen day names of the solar calendar (see
Carmack 1973:355-8, 366). Significantly, twenty-eight
days constituted a lunation (actual sidereal period was
27j and the synodic period was 29y). As we shall see,
the contrived numerology of calendrics, community
design, and political history was intertwined.
Towns within radii of 20 to 40 km were apportioned
along the four cardinal points of a world cross or four
inter-cardinal points which intersected at the capital city
(Fox 1989:671-2). Upon achieving statehood, metapho-
rically referred to as the "sunrise," the capital (a Tuldn
or tecpan) became the circular (i.e., Orion) "center of the
sky and of the earth, of the four sides and of the four
corners" (Totonicapan 1983:185). In settlement design,
the Middleworld was transposed as a circular main plaza
(the turtle) in Early Postclassic radial-temple centers
(e.g., three cosmic crosses were pecked into the highest
point of Chuitinamit-Atitlan) and as a four-cornered
geographic cross for the Late Postclassic main plazas. In
each were buildings for politicoritual integration: (1) a
radial-temple for the solar deity (stairways radiating to
the world directions), aligned with (2) an I-shaped
sunken ballcourt of the Underworld, and (3) a small
circular temple for the Sky Serpent arching over the
Upperworld (Fig. 14.3).
In overview, vertical and horizontal space were ideo-
logically sectioned. The most important integers for
uniting time, space, and people were 3 and 4 and 9 and
13. The first pair reflects the three celestial brothers (sun,
Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya 159
moon, and Venus) and the four for cardinal directions.
The second pair refers to the nine lunations in the
260-day calendar as well as thirteen lunations in the
365-day calendar. The latitude of Utatlan, the last
Quiche capital, was specifically "programmed" for the
astronomical symmetries of the 260-day calendar and
its thirteen day names and twenty months. The Upper-
world and Underworld held thirteen and nine levels
each (Totonicapan 1983:168), as there were four, five,
nine and thirteen tiers on Utatlan's solar temple (4
tiers + 1 for the base of the superstructure = 5, + 4 more
tiers for 1 facade = 9, + 4 more tiers for its third
side =13; the fourth side lacked tiers). As shall be
increasingly more evident, 3 signified motion of becom-
ing, whereas 4 signaled a full round. Adding 3 + 4, 7
meant celestial apex, with 6 ascending steps for the
Upperworld + 1 the summit + 6 descending steps = 13
(for completion). Or, these nodes 7 + 1 3 = the vigesi-
mal 20. Schematically, the 4 cardinal points + the 4
intercardinal points for the solstices (Fig. 14.6) + 1 for
the centerpoint = 9. So too, 4 points (x3) for the
Upper, Middle, and Underworld (12) + 1 for the
centerpoint = 13. Finally, the critical 4 x 13 (as in 4
stations of Venus and the 13 ritual days in the Dresden
Codex) = 52 for the calendar round.
More can be discerned about cosmic "layering" of
political geography. At the core, the innermost concen-
tric "ring of Utatlan," + the 3 provincial rings = 4 full
circular divisions (Fig. 14.6). The unfolding state adding
successive rings modeled after Orion: 1st) 5 units for
Utatlan (the center 4- 4 barrios); 2nd) + 4 outer
provinces = 9; and a 3rd) ring of 4 more = 13 divisions
of the state at its maximum (Fig. 14.6; cf. Tambiah
1977:70-1). The documents speak variously of the 9
groups and the 9 Cawek and Nijaib lineages among 13
confederates who gathered at Utatlan, as the 13 groups
once congregated at the 7 caves of Tulan (Xajil 1953:48-
50). More broadly, 13 signified "all of the peoples" as 13
deital guises for constellations are given in the Popol Vuh
(1971:3-5, 159).
One Quiche dynastic list of 13 rulers clearly reveals
how political history was cast within calendrical idiom.
Radiocarbon dating would suggest nearly twice the
number of rulers, and the kings listed in the Popol Vuh,
Titulo Yax and Titulo Totonicapan do not agree. Yet the
sequencing of 13 generations in the Titulo Yax (Carmack
and Mondloch 1989:87) unmasks the calendrical
chronology:
 160 John W. Fox

Generation ruler Calendrical symbolism Rendered spatially, each of the crossbars of the
glyphic "X" divided moieties near the circular Temple of
1 Balam Quitze Migrates in a group of 3 or 4 K'ucumatz (Fig. 14.4). So the four major lineages
headmen from Tuldn during the coupled into counterpoised moieties: the Cawek and
"night" to Jacawitz. Sakic of the "day" pitted against the Ajaw and Nijaib of
3 Popol Jackawitz (Venus) is abandoned the "night." In this scheme, the original Ajaw and
along with alliance triads, Cawek each paired with a lineage from the vicinity
signified by 3. Pop means mat (Nijaib, Sakic), so that the moieties cleaved along the
for leadership. NE-SW axis for the solstitial summer sunrise and winter
4 Cotuja Venus and the sun merge at sunset. Yet a second diagonal (Figs. 14.4, 14.5) joined
"dawn." The first cycle the old-line Ajaw and Cawek along the solstitial winter
terminates with the addition of sunrise/summer sunset axis.
the 4th major lineage (Sakic) of
direct "Toltec" descent. Awaiting the dawn by confederated warriors during the
5 K'ucumatz The sun ascends for a legitimate Early Postclassic
state (a Tuldn); the Feathered
Sky Serpent with its Pleiades Three or four Quiche lineage heads migrated to the
tail also rises. pioneer site, Jacawitz, among the thirteen Quichean
7 Q'uik'ab The political maximum of the
Quiche state with the solar
zenith, and the seven stars of
Orion.
9 Tecum I The Nijaib (W) garners power
as the state declines and the sun
descends to the W horizon.
13 Tecum Uman The "aboriginal sun" sets with
new lords (Spaniards), and a
new "sun" rises for the colonial
period.

Each major lineage in their quarter of Utatlan corpo-

rately assumed attributes of the corresponding cardinal
direction (Fig. 14.1): the Ajaw resided S (as the firstborn
group of rank, Venus); the Cawek looked E as the
spokesman of the newly risen sun; the Nijaib faced W as
warriors under the declining sun/moon; and the Sakic
resided N, were last arrived, and furnished "Toltec"
pedigree for kingly succession. At celestial N today,
while the constellations appear to rotate around the
"fixed" circumpolar star, Polaris, during AD 900-1500
the North Star was perhaps 15 degrees removed. As in
cosmic design, the wedge-shaped quarters intersected in
the main plaza. The Maya glyph for the sun (kin) was
written as a diagonally quartered circle (Figs. 14.1, 14.5,
14.6), with two ends for the winter (SE) and summer
(NE) solstitial sunrises and the opposite ends (SW, NW)
for the solstitial sunsets. The cardinal and inter-cardinal
points were thus points of political transformation. Fig. 14.2a Plan of Jacawitz. The kinship-political
Direct N, then, was a black void, and was conceptua- groups associated with plazas conform to cardinality; the
lized as the drop off to the place of ancestors (Schele, Cawek burned incense north to Tojil and the Ajaw burned
pers. comm.). incense south to Jacawitz f Popol Vuh 1971:178-9).

Fig. 14.2b Jacawitz (Chitinamit), Chujuyup. The elevated Cawek plaza (left) is separated from the lower Ajaw
plaza (right) by the I-shaped ballcourt.
groups, perhaps coinciding with the end of a 260-year
cycle and the sun setting upon the Tuldn of the W near
the Chontalpa homeland (Carmack and Mondloch
1989:79-80; Xajil 1953:45). Thus, the collapse of
lowland states and the rise of the Postclassic states were
conceptualized as old and new "suns." Highly ranked
peoples arrived at Tuja, Sacapulas, in the highlands with
codices (e.g., Sacapulas 1968:261), and a version of the
time-honored long count resurfaced among the Cakchi-
quel (Xajil 1953).
Extrapolating from the Venus tables in the Dresden
Codex, appropriate 1 Ajaw dates for founding Jacawitz,
the initial Quiche town on a fortified mountaintop,
would have been AD 942 and 955. The Classic Maya
maize deity 1 (Jun) Ajaw transfigured into Jun Junajpu,
the father of the Quiche Hero Twins. Jacawitz housed
the Ajar and Cawek, whose plazas were paired upon a
single platform (Fig. 14.2a-b). Both temples oriented 185
degrees S to the inferior conjunction of Venus - the
opposite pole from the north star (magnetic declination
is 1 degree). Etymologically, Ajaw translates as "Lords,"
whereas the Cawek may have derived from the day
name, Cawuk. At Jacawitz, the Ajaw built the lower S
plaza and their temple, Jacawitz, affixed to the S range
of the ballcourt (Fig. 14.2) as the entrance to the Under-
world. The Ajaw were totemically linked to Venus and
their emblem was a skull for the decapitated Junajpu in
Xibalba, a version of the toothy glyph for the evening
star (see Ajaw petroglyph in Fox and Fernandez n.d.). In
the opposite direction, Jacawitz aligned N to the "night"
beacon of Sacapulas, and toward the twin peaks of
Cerro Mamaj and its initial Quichean site, ChiPixab
Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya 161
("Warning") 3 km beyond. The "grand mountain of
Mamaj-Pixab," with several small mounds today, is
where the thirteen migratory peoples first assembled
(Carmack and Mondloch 1989:177).
The first mythic Hero Twins reached Xibalba by
taking the N road into the black void along the Milky
Way (the tree axis, Popol Vuh 1971:109, Fernandez
1992). Ethnographically, Xibalba also meant the liminal
beings before the present "sun." As a case in point, after
the light/fire of Tuldn in the "west corner of the sky" was
extinguished, the ancestors migrated through an
"Underworld" guided by the "great Star," Ek'ok'ij
(Venus; Carmack 1973:288; Carmack and Mondloch
1989:174-6). Historiographically next, the highland
enemies, bereft of the solar light occupied a Xibalba.
The Blood River (Kiq'i'a), at the foot of Jacawitz,
separated the Quiche from six indigenous communities
of an Underworld S on lower plains (Popol Vuh
1971:69). The two centuries at Jacawitz were termed
"awaiting the dawn," when indigenes were engaged in
protracted wars and when incense was burned to Venus
(Carmack and Mondloch 1989:177). In one episode, the
Quiche were defeated and the fire was dampened as the
Hero Twins were overcome by the Lords of the Under-
world (Popol Vuh 1971:69).
At Jacawitz, the Quiche banded together with their
next of kin, the Tamub at Amak Tarn, and the Ilocab at
Uquin Cat, respectively 2 and 3 km away. It was there-
fore for mutual defense that the "urban" tinamit took
form. For wider Jacawitz was termed a tecpan (palace),
clearly an anachronism (Totonicapan 1983:176).
At this time, patrilineal kindred defended, cultivated,
and enhanced small estates. Obligations of balanced
 162 John W. Fox

reciprocity from wife exchange were transacted in com-

Political astronomy of a "galactic" capital, Utalan
munal feasts of equitably connected communities, equi-
distantly spaced in regional triads (Popol Vuh 1971:226; Utalan may have been founded on 1 Ajaw in AD 1147/8,
Fox 1989:Fig. 7). when the helical rise of the morning star for the ethno-
Nevertheless, the Quiche also recognized the calendri- historic dawn synchronized with recommencing of no
cal and genealogical superiority (of the Yaqui?) at Tuja, less than the tzolkin, the solar year, the Venus cycle, and
20 km N (Carmack 1973:289; Carmack and Mondloch the Mars cycle, the 52-year calendar round (see Aveni
1989:177). When the triangle for the Quiche sites (Venus) 1980:197), and when Venus, Jupiter, and Saturn were in
was joined at the point for the triangle (night/sun/moon) close alignment, and when Orion intersected the Milky
of the Tujalja sites, the four world directions resulted Way. These auspicious dates are coeval with radiocar-
(see Fox 1989:Fig. 7; Fernandez 1992). Both Tuja and bon assays for initial construction of Utatlan (Brown
Jacawitz align precisely at 9105' longitude, directlyS of pers. comm.).
the marker for the alliance, Cerro Negro, conceptually Quiche domination over the indigenes transformed
the apex of the world Ceiba tree crowned by K'ucumatz. alliances again; they were no longer voluntary. Local
Cerro Negro marked the N boundary for Quiche vassals intermarried with the Quiche - creating new
speakers in the highlands. It meant "Mountain of the lineages - overseeing the working of Quiche lands (chin-
Black Void", the totem for the Tujalja/Agaab, who were amit) in a tributary mode of production (Carmack
the "People of Night." Tuja's radial-temple sighted the 1981:160-8). The Quiche were freed from agrarian pro-
equinoxes; an altar in the second plaza aligned to three duction to vie with one another for privileges within
identical temples E on a single platform for sighting the fortified urban tinamit.
summer solstice sunrise (N temple), equinox sunrise The Quiche acquired codices (Carmack and Mond-
(middle), and winter solstice sunrise (S), recalling Group loch 1989:80) when they intermarried with the pres-
E at Uaxactun. Moreover, when viewed from the radial tigious Tujalja. In their own words, the Quiche obtained
temple, the N triple temple aligned 61 degrees to the full "the stone [calendar?] that came from the East with the
moon on the vernal equinox in AD 1000 and the S Pison Cacal, the sign of the lordship;... behind ... Tuja
temple marked the star Betelguese in Orion (also for the ... above Tujac Sak [jc'abal?], which was also called the
moon, below). Tuja overlooked a cenote-like salt spring stone of'Lacandona'" (Sacapulas 1968:18). Thereafter,
and had screenfold codices for astral rituals while Jaka- the celestial tables empowered the Quiche to time
witz did not. Towering 5 km behind (N) Tuja was the battles, marriages, and accessions to the throne, requi-
beacon Cerro Negro with its Postclassic site, site for statecraft. Writing was jealously guarded by the
Chusaq'abal, held by the K'ucumatz lineage (Carmack high-ranked amak. The thirty-odd Quichean land titles
1973:368) and with its own salt springs (Salinas Mag- (titulos) mostly recount pedigrees for securing privileges
dalena today). Topographically, Chusaq'abal was the - the purpose of the carved stelae of the Classic period.
highest peak for the region; five unique broad terraces Abrupt changes in sociopolitical organization gain
there may have staged confederates to dance on nights relief in differences between Jacawitz and Utatlan,
when constellations rose or set as seasonal signposts (e.g. though orientation 5 degrees off cardinality persisted: (1)
the Dance of the Junajpu Coy in late July, early August the two S-oriented back-to-back plazas at Jacawitz were
for the Pillar/World Tree [Fernandez 1992]), and the pressed into a single central plaza at Utatlan with build-
Wukup Caquix (Tedlock 1982:360), the rising of the Big ings oriented E-W; (2) duality gave way to full quadri-
Dipper in October for the dry season/harvest; the Big partition; (3) a more vital sunrise-sunset axis derived
Dipper was at zenith on November 15, AD 1000. The from Tuja with buildings for state institutions of the
single lime-plastered temple on the S extremity of Chusa- main plaza aligned to the two solar equinoxes; (4) new
q'abal aligned precisely to Cerro Pacbalam 5 degrees and palaces and temples were covered in lime plaster, signal-
9 km S, the dawning place isakiribal) for the Tujalja. ing "full lumination," and were painted in murals.
Pacbalam may translate "The New Day of Jaguars" Abandonment of Jacawitz coincided with a visit by
(Ximenez 1985:437). the Cawek envoy, rather than ill-fated attempts by Ajaw
That the Quiche, as the warriors of Venus, came to and Nijaib competitors, to the lowland Tuldn of the E
dominate the Lord Feathered Serpent (K'ucumatz, Ajaw (Copan? Tedlock 1982) to obtain insignia of rulership
Can Quetzal) lineage offices of Tuja also suggests the from Nacxit, a descendant of the sun (Popol Vuh
rotation of the Yearbearer Noj from the S and the helical 1971:214^19).
rise of Venus for a new calendrical "sun." Since Utatlan (15 degrees 01 seconds N) corresponds

Fig. 14.3 Settlement plan ofUtatlan. From Fox 1989.
in latitude with Copan (51 seconds difference), and with
Tuja (15 seconds difference), calendric authority was
conferred along with codices (U tzibal Tulan) from prob-
ably both sites. Specific "offices" were housed in build-
ings aligned to the paths of stars/planets for rituals
justifying enjoinment (e.g., feasts, tribute payments).
And this shared latitude allows precisely the 260 days for
the sun to cross the zenithal transect. Utatlan, in turn,
was the "center of the earth," as Tulan and Tuja were
once ascribed. At the ritual core of Utatlan, three
pyramidal-temples oriented 5 degrees off cardinality
suggest that positions in the solar arc were held by
lineages as their "cosmic/political space" (Fig. 14.3). In
this regard, the Cawek commanded alignments to the
equinoxes, which intersected the ecliptic and the paths of
the sun, moon, Venus, and the helical rising and setting
of Orion and the Pleiades. These alignments in the
Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya 163
El Resguardo
cosmic "middle" affirmed the Cawek as the spokesmen
of a Tulan.
Accordingly, the most exalted Cawek edifice, the
Temple of Tojil, faced 5 degrees N of E (at 3 degrees
altitude) to the sunrise at the vernal and autumnal equi-
noxes, to the helical rise of Venus as the morning star,
for about 260 days, to the helical setting of the Pleiades
in May, and to Orion E on the winter solstice. This
radial-like temple also manifests stairways on its N and S
facades for the ancestors and the "night sun" (moon).
Tojil is the only temple that sits in open plaza space with
vantage points to major equinoctial and zenithal rises
(e.g. Carmack and Mondloch 1989:86).
However, the recently formed Nijaib lineage also vied
for power directly opposite Tojil. The Nijaib's Temple of
Awilix faced 5 degrees N of W to the equinoctial sunsets,
to Betelgeuse in Orion, and to the helical setting of the
 164 John W. Fox
Fig. 14.4 Cosmogram showing the three patron temples within the
quadripartite sectioning of Utat Ian.
Pleiades (Fernandez 1990:142). Therefore, the Nijaib
warriors equated symbolically with the night sun/female
moon descending W to battle Underworld forces. The
Nijaib were identified mythically with Xbalanque
(Jaguar-Deer), the hermaphrodite twin of Junajpu
(Hunter) for the Cawek. And jaguar-deer is a metaphor
for once vanquished peoples (prey = deer), contrasted
with the hunter (see Pohl and Pohl this volume).
A third giant temple for the Ajaw's patron Maya
deity, Jacawitz (Carmack and Mondloch 1989:86), faced
185 degrees S for Venus in the Underworld, the firstborn
sibling in Classic Mayan mythology (GI). In symbology,
the animated rolling head in the ball game against the
Xibalbans (Popol Vuh 1971:115-16, 123-7) represented
Venus and the Ajaw. Junajpu rose as the morning star
fusing into the early solar diffusion (at 7 degrees alti-
tude). Together, the three pyramids completed an
inverted isosceles configuration whose corners were E
(Tojil), W (Awilix), and S (Fig. 14.4). Moreover, the
point of the ritual triangle was S, to the inferior conjunc-
tion and schematically toward the solstitial sunrise
marking the year's longest night and diminished power
of the sun, recalling the one-legged Tojil (Tahil at Palen-
que) who started the fire in his empty sandal (e.g.
Recinos 1957:175). Ethnographically, Fernandez (1992)
abstracts the path of the sun W as a triangle (oxib
uxucut) with corners for the sunrise (relebal k'ij), high
noon (nic aj Kij), and sunset (ukajibal k'ij).
However, with transfer of the K'ucumatz lineage from
Sacapulas, the circular Temple of K'ucumatz replaced
the ballcourt as the centerpoint. As a fourth temple the
cosmic whole was completed with stairways to E and W
cardinality. This Cawek temple overlaid two sacred
caves. The upper cave manifests multiple passages
shaped like the great world Ceiba (Fox 1991) carved on
Pacal's sarcophagus at Palenque. The circular shape of
the temple also recalls Orion, the oracular "obsidian
calendar stones," the solar disk pendant on the ballcourt
murals at Chichen Itza, and the game ball. Access to the
Temple of K'ucumatz from the E (Fig. 14.4) and W
(Cawek) replicated the bicephalic Sky Serpent itself.
Mythically, K'ucumatz was said to carry the young sun

A.
Cawek
Ajaw
N the less brilliant evening star. Its stairs aligned with the
B.
W I
Junajpu
Fig. 14.5 Power of major lineages at Jacawitz (A)
during the Early Postclassic period, and at Utatlan (B)
during the Late Postclassic period. Note that the spatial
positions for the Cawek and Nijaib are for directions
their patron temples faced. A second diagonal line would
pair the old guard Ajaw and Cawek.
(Junajpu) within its opened jaws from the E (Fig. 14.5)
and the diminishing sun (Xbalanque) W across the after-
noon sky (Carmack 1981:203-^1). Then the ever-moving
severed head of Junajpu traveled over each of the four
major lineages as the binding fabric.
Out from the triangular ritual core, smaller temples
for patron deities of the major lineages were set within
the more private complexes. In this regard, the Cawek
palace temple (in a sense with the missing fourth stair-
way of the Tojil radial temple, Fig. 14.3), aligned 265
degrees SW to Venus as the evening star and to the
winter solstitial sunset (Fernandez 1990:141-3). During
this cycle, the size of Venus appears to increase and its
Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya 165
luminosity decreases, as Junajpu descended. Moving
counterclockwise, the stairway on the Ajaw palace
temple oriented 247 degrees SW to the helical setting of
the evening star during the inferior conjunction - pre-
sumably when Junajpu plunged into the Underworld.
Next, Venus gained in brightness as the morning star
rose triumphantly from the Underworld on 1 Ajaw. On
the Sakic's N wing, a small temple, originally mapped by
Maudslay and more recently by Fernandez, supports a
circular superstructure with one notch aligned to the
superior conjunction in June, when the sighting of Venus
was blocked for fifty-six days before the re-emergence of
sunset at summer solstice (293 degrees), the year's
longest day, and cosmically N, perhaps for the Sakic's
patron Niq'aq Tak'aj, ("Center of the Valley," Popol Vuh
1971:162, 230, cf. Tuja). In overview, that the less power-
ful Sakic and Ajaw aligned to the two Venusian conjunc-
tions and to the two solstitial sunsets, suggests that
subordination to the Cawek was expressed calendrically
(Fernandez 1990).
As the last building in the main plaza, the ballcourt
separated the Cawek (N and W) from the Ajaw (S), as at
Jakawitz; only the centrality of the court shifted with the
political fortunes of the Ajaw. Nonetheless, the ballcourt
aligned 85 degrees - 265 degrees to the sunrises and
sunsets on the equinoxes and to the inferior conjunction
of Venus in February. Since the ballcourt was equidis-
tant (15 m) between the Cawek and Ajaw palace com-
plexes, it ritually interdigitated the solar state authority
with the Venusian military posturing. But as impor-
tantly, the ballcourt interposed the moiety of day
(Cawek-Sakic) against the moiety of night (Ajaw-
Nijaib). Therefore, the ballcourt split the broad symme-
tries of day/night, and of the rainy fertile summer from
the dry winter of death. In the SW corner of the main
plaza it was the gateway to the Underworld, appro-
priately, the mythic arena of conflict.
Offices, economics, and astronomy
With assertion of power by the Cawek, the Sakic and
Ajaw became largely ritualists. Significantly, the Cawek
offices listed in the Popol Vuh (1971:230) match the new
buildings of state along the E-W solar axis aligned to the
solar equinoxes, and to the Pleiades:
Ajpop (ruler), Aj Pop Camja (Assistant Ruler), Aj
Tojil (High Priest of Tojil), Ajk'ucumatz (High Priest
of K'ucumatz), Nim CKokoj (Lineage Chairman),
Lol Met (Overseer), Jom Tzalatz (Head of the
 166 John W. Fox

Ballcourt), and U Chuck Camja (Mother of the Step the Sakic rotated to the ritually superordinate N quad-
House). rant at Utatlan, they paralleled movement of the north
Yearbearer, "E." Not coincidently, the last chief at
In contrast, the nine Nijaib offices were relegated to Jakawitz was also named "E." Yet the Sakic (N) were
intra-lineage affairs (Popol Vuh 1971:231). Thus, the coupled with the Ajaw (S, evening star); remember both
Cawek succeeded in truncating the three rivals. keyed the solstitial sunsets and the Venusian conjunc-
Yet, considerable duplication of offices within the tions. Therefore, the four major lineages were cross
contending major lineages enforced intra-lineage auth- linked: (1) the moieties of Cawek-Sakic vs. Ajaw-Nijaib;
ority and autonomy (see Tambiah 1977:88). For (2) the original Ajaw and Cawek pair; (3) Sakic-Ajaw,
example, lineages maintained offices corresponding to N-S; and 4) the Cawek-Nijaib, E-W. And the NW-SE
their patron deity, lineage head, military captain (K'alel), diagonal at Utatlan bisected the moieties as the patron
and steward (Atzij Winak, Carmack 1981:162-3). deities of the day (Tojil) and the night (Awilix) were
By fusing Tojil with the sun god (Popol Vuh 1971:183), counterposed in Orion.
the Cawek were able to manipulate the others. Certainly To bear out the partitioning further, the Ajaw and
the Temple of Tojil was integrative: three stairways faced Nijaib aligned their buildings near cardinality, whereas
the Nijaib, Ajaw, and Sakic. Tribute payments, termed the Cawek and Sakic lacked orthogonality. The fourth
total, were paid to Tojil (Popol Vuh 1985:131) during the Quiche leader, and the first enthroned ajpop (king) was
February New Year's celebration sparking cosmic Cotuja from Tuja (Ajaw Tuja, Popol Vuh 1971:223-4,
regeneration (Carmack 1973:295). Next, Tojil aligned to Totonicapan 1953:183). That an outsider came to lead
the sunrise on May 1 for receiving thefirstpassage of the the Cawek, however, negates strict patrilineal succession
sun across the zenith announcing the helical setting of - and suggests factionalism. Two calendar rounds later,
the Pleiades (motz for seeds), and signaling the planting the 1st Ajaw fell on AD 1252, which would have ushered
and the rainy season (Broda 1982; Fernandez 1992). in a new cycle along perhaps with the Sakic, coeval with
Roughly 180 days later (Popol Vuh 1971:243), the dry radiocarbon dating of the fourth plaza, El Resguardo
season and the harvest commenced when the Big Dipper (Fig. 14.3). However, his son, ruler 5, K'ucumatz, was
rose (Seven-Macaw, Tedlock 1982), as the Pleiades set firmly enthroned as a Cawek.
and Orion arched overhead (Fernandez 1992). Correspondingly, the fifth plaza with a palace for
Fernandez 1992 notes that the three temples forming a K'ucumatz was constructed at Pakamam on the eastern
triangular core at Utatlan were sighted to three bright perimeter of Utatlan for receiving armies returning from
stars in the constellation Orion - the "Heart of Heaven." glorious conquests (Fox 1978:30).
Following Loundsbury and Tedlock. Schele (1992) The Cawek and the Sakic seem to have blended in
observes that Orion was a turtle over the triangular their residential zones at Utatlan. From this time
hearth stones of creation. Specifically, the back of the forward the Tujalja spoke of the Cawek as "our grand-
Temple of Tojil and the Cawek palace temple aligned to fathers, our fathers, and our chiefs" (Totonicapan
Alnilam in the center of Orion, and therefore was the 1953:183). Seemingly, the Sakic provided legitimate
vortex of creation, a nagual for the sun. The Temple of pedigree for succession. A transformation from equality
Awilix aligned to Betelgeuse in the NW corner of Orion to hierarchy is idyllically remembered.
for the moon. And one stairway on the Ajaw palace
temple sighted Rigel. Since Orion helically set in late And in their hearts they were only one,
autumn as the sun dawned, it too may have signaled the They had no witchcraft;
harvest. If the Pleiades identified the Sky Serpent's They had no bitterness.
rattlesnake tail (Aveni 1980:34), then the concentric The government was just peaceful.
circles of Orion were the serpent coils on the back of the They had no fights, or quarrels.
turtle at creation - as the highest constellation in the sky. There was just light and tranquility in their hearts.
Yet it is possible that some ritual authority rotated (Popol Vuh 1971:224)
among the other lineages as "cargo" rotates among Yet at this juncture, the Ilocab attempted to kill the
quadruple barrios today (Tedlock 1982:101; see quadri- interloper, Cotuja, who then demanded their sacrifice
partite rule, Carmack 1981:168-79). Just as the early before Tojil (Carmack 1973:292; Popol Vuh 1971:225).
Ajaw/Cawek pairing eventually added the Nijaib, so too Henceforth, the Cawek enforced prerogatives with less
did a major lineage, the Sakic, transfer to Utatlan from subtlety.
Sacapulas (Totonicapan 1953:181-5). In a sense, when Utatlan's power brokers distinguished themselves by
 Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya 167

I ^MukdbuiiiB
Totdnicapan bemepi

7 T . Si* CAKCHlOUEL AKAJAL

Fig. 14.6 Four concentric circles of the Quiche state's maximum expansion to the four cardinal directions, for a total
of thirteen divisions. The double-cross with world directions superimposed upon the diagonal crossbar "X" (for solar
sunrises and sunsets) is depicted in the Madrid Codex and in the Codex Fejeruary-Mayer (Aveni 1980:Fig.57). The
design of triple concentric circles is known from highland Mexico (Aveni 1980:Fig.71). The triangle indicates the
ritualistic ties between the rival Quiche, Cakchiquel, and Tzutujil capitals.

finely crafted amber nose pieces and gold lip plugs. Since
the documents are explicit that jade, metal and feather
finery was worked by the Tolteca, from about Tuja
(Sacapulas 1968, and Carmack 1973:369-71), it seems
reasonable that the Tolteca came with the K'ucumatz
and the Sakic entourage. They strengthened the Cawek's
alliance-making capabilities, whereby luxury goods were
divvied out to bond obligations upholding the new
offices of state. The Tolteca also may have engineered
the new buildings in the main plaza. The central plaza
terminated the 1 km causeway (plastered sacbe) running
E-W from the Pakamam to El Resguardo, also like the
bicephalic Sky Serpent.
 168 John W. Fox

K'ucumatz next married the Tzutujil princess of Malaj

Core-periphery relationships among the nine
(Totonicapan 1953:184-6) and acquired tribute. He
principalities and north-south cardinality
became empowered to transform into four successive
About AD 1200 a series of campaigns were launched naguals for conquering other regions during seven days
beyond Pa'Quiche. Within newly acquired lands, sub- each: into a serpent (N?), an eagle (E?), a jaguar (W?),
jugated peoples intermarried with colonists from and blood (S?), comprising one lunation (7 for sun at
Utatlan to yield an outlying ring of four new divisions, zenith, 7 x 4 = 28, Carmack and Mondloch 1989:84).
the original five of the capital plus four more for nine in
all. In their own words, secondary chiefs, termed Aj- Then by their magic the [Quiche] lords triumphed ...
Tzalam, Raj pop Tzalam and Utam Chinamital, were sent K'ucumatz-Cotuja became a spirit lord (nagual ajaw).
to "take possession of the mountains and valleys that For a week he climbed up to heaven. And for a week
seem good" (Totonicapan 1953:189, 190). More pre- he made the descent to Xibalba. And for a week he
cisely, the "realm was divided into nine territorial divi- became a serpent ... an eagle ... a jaguar, and a
sions" under K'ucumatz (Carmack and Mondloch puddle of blood ... He commanded, all the lords and
1989:82). Nine denoted commonly held ancestors and tribes. His essence was a spirit lord. And this was the
human gestation. beginning and growth of Quiche when the lord K'ucu-
matz did it. (Popol Vuh 1971:233)
For the nine divisions, junior lineages in the new
towns of Chuvi Mikina, Sija, Xoyabaj, and Sacjabaja Thus, K'ucumatz coalesced disparate peoples with sham-
(Fig. 14.6), close alliances were maintained with senior anic power to fly to "cosmic layers" as his namesake at
lineages in the capital (together an amak). However, the circular temple intersected the cardinal directions at
more specific relationships are cloudy. Nonetheless, a the very centerpoint of the state.
single cryptic reference indicates that Tecum Uman from Later, paralleling this sequence, the Cakchiquel first
Chuvi Mikina (Totonicapan) was commander-in-chief conquered then intermarried with the Tzutujil and
of combined Quiche forces (Carmak 1973:302). Curiou- exacted tribute. In allegory (Xajil 1953:75-8), the Cak-
sly, Mikina (Maj Kina) translates as "Sun God." The chiquel war leader, Gacawitz (Venus), also transformed
sixteenth-century church of San Cristobal Totonicapan into an omnipotent K'ucumatz - who, as the north wind,
faced 2 degrees N to the 290 degrees W-facing cathedral turned Lake Atitlan into a whirlpool - thereby awing the
of Santiago Momostenango (which sighted the full Tzutujil into submission. This transformed Gacawitz/
moon, Venus on the autumnal equinox). Patron saints of K'ucumatz paralleled the succession of patron deities,
these towns were said to be brothers (G. Cook, pers. Jakawitz (Venus) to K'ucumatz (Sky Serpent) for the
comm.), as in the Palenque triad (GUI, GI). Quiche. Political chieftains harnessed divinity with
Evidently, state office could be filled from junior line- nagualism.
ages. Centripetal power slowly accrued to the colonies. History was ordered calendrically and mythically. To
However, accessions ceremonies attended by the nine reach the low-lying warm Tzutujil lands, the Quiche
peoples at Utatlan also furnished occasions to over- descended past precipitous cliffs and waterfalls at the
throw the Cawek host senior lineages (e.g., Totonicapan Cawek/Tzutujil colony of Tzolola (Xajil 1953:73, 80-1,
1953:179-89). Recinos 1957:147), recalling the plunge along the Blood
Clearly, conquests were scheduled according to cardi- River into Xibalba by the Hero Twins. Even today in the
nality; first, along the N-S vertical axis, and secondly, early winter night sky Venus first appears directly over
along the E-W solar axis. N assumed temporal priority the Tzutujil capital, Chuitinamit-Atitlan. In fact, the
over S, and E superseded W. Campaigns spearheaded by Quiche marched to Xibalba along the Milky Way guided
the Nijaib and Cakchiquel warriors claimed "100 by the moon (Xbalanque) and the stars (Reifios
towns" (Recinos 1957:71-5). So, from inside Utatlan the 1957:35). The Tzutujil radial-temple sighted 117 degrees
strength of Nijaib arms compromised Cawek preroga- SE in AD 1000 through the twin peaks of Volcano
tives in late aboriginal times, and the Cakchiquel Toliman (7 km) to the helical rise of Venus on the
pressured the Cawek from the outside (below). autumnal equinox, and 145 degrees to the neighboring
The first peoples beyond the heartland conquered Volcano Atitlan on the inferior conjunction of Venus.
were the Tujalja directly N and the Tzutujil directly S Hence, the post-conquest name for Chuitnamit, San-
(and the Tzutujil capital is sighted on the S cardinal tiago Atitlan, is synonymous with the morning star (GI).
point from Patojil). The radial temples at both Tuja and Santiago was the cosmic and geographical opposite pole
Chuitinamit-Atitlan align 5 degrees off cardinality. along the N-S axis from Santo Domingo ( = sun, GUI),

Sacapulas. And the N-S Milky Way is called the Road
to Santiago (Schele, pers. comm.).
Now intermarried with the Tujalja and Tzutujil, the
Cawek were challenged in manipulating the vital New
Year's ceremony for dominating coalitions of outlying
peoples. The Popol Vuh (1971:247) specifically states that
the Tujalja and the Tzutujil also provided turquoise,
silver, plaster handles, jade, jewels, and dove and quetzal
feathers. These new prestige items were redistributed
throughout Utatlan's alliances, so that brokers in the
contending lineages became obligated to the Cawek
(who also distributed obsidian, see Fox, Wallace, and
Brown 1992:186-88).
During the reign of ruler 7, the Cakchiquel documents
narrate that Q'uik'ab's sons conspired with the military
faction to plunder the treasury and to seize his lands
(Recinos 1957:141-3; Xajil 1953:66-8, 93). Next, the
warriors threatened the Cakchiquel, the king's long
allies and personal guard. Consequently the mighty Tzu-
tujil rebelled and the Cakchiquel relocated to Iximche,
which so preoccupied the Quiche that much of the third
ring also revolted.
In overview, successes by the rival Tzutujil and Cak-
chiquel chilled how the outlying peoples perceived the
authority of Utatlan. Tribute payments were rebuffed.
While the Cakchiquel remarked that they once admired
the "judgement and wisdom brought from Tuldn ... the
soldiery were ignorant, they were only common people
... [who] coveted power . . . " (Xajil 1953:96-7). Later,
when the Tukuche Cakchiquel revolted, they were said
no longer to worship the "obsidian (calendar) stone"
(Xajil 1953:83), the source of authority traced from the
Tuldn to Tuja, Utatlan, and finally Iximche. At Iximche,
appropriately for warriors, temples aligned to the Venu-
sian and lunar phases. In Plaza A, Temple 1 oriented 115
degrees towards sunrise on the equinoxes, whereas
Temple 2 oriented 260 degrees to the Venusian superior
conjunction and to the helical setting of Rigel in Orion.
In Plaza C, Temple 2 oriented to the full moon on the
equinoxes, all in the mid-1400s.
Dialectics among the thirteen peoples and east and west
cardinality
After the (N-S) vertix of the Quiche state took form, a
second series of colonies were transplanted E and W
across the cool uplands for "thirteen" provinces in all.
Schematically, this last ring added four more divisions
for a total of thirteen. Here the two diagonal ends of the
solar "X" crisscrossing the 4th ring (Fig. 14.6) manifest
calendric symbolism: at the NE crossbar for summer
Political cosmology among the Quiche Maya 169
solstice sunrise was the town of Quilaja - which trans-
lates as "Place Where the Morning Star and the Sun
Blend". Appropriately the Southern Mam translated as
"Aged," and occupied the opposite (SW) end for winter
solstice sunset. Most of these territories were subjugated
or reconquered by Q'uik'ab, which translated as "He of
Many Arms," apparently a wordplay on capture/grab
for his far-reaching grasp (also attributed to rulers from
Yaxchilan, Pohl and Pohl, this volume).
By the late 1400s, paradoxically, a ritual binding
endured among the balanced Quiche, Tzutujil, and Cak-
chiquel (Fig. 14.6), as characteristic of segmentary
triads. The Cronica Franciscana (in Carmack 1973:375-
7) relates that they were independent "nations" ruled by
"terror," yet recognizing ritual obligations among
descendants of the four Tulteca brothers who migrated
via Lacandon (near Seibal, Yaxchilan). So, even as bitter
foes, the Quiche witnessed kingly successions at Iximche
(Las Casas 1958:343) as did the Tzutujil at Utatlan
(Recinos 1957:149). Gift exchanges bound the Cawek
and the Tzutujil (Fig. 14.6; e.g., Recinos 1957:175), and
the Cakchiquel and Tzutujil intermarried (Xajil
1953:86).
Chronologically, K'ucumatz perished during an
arduous siege of the Mam at Coja (Recinos 1957:141-5)
and descended to Xibalba, with Q'uik'ab soon claiming
revenge (Totonicapan 1953:187-9). The battles of K'ucu-
matz and Q'uik'ab at the sunset paralleled the mythic
death of Jun Junajpu and eventual victory of his son
Junajpu (Cawek) over the Lords of the Underworld (see
like-in-kind Quetzalcoatl and his father in Mexico, see
Chapter 17). In calendrical prophesy, subjugation of the
Mam in the SW completed the cosmic circle; continuing
counterclockwise S (Fig. 14.6), the Tzutujil revolted.
As at Utatlan, the outer rings were respectively domi-
nated by the two most powerful lineages. The Cawek
held sway to the E among the Rabinal, the Agaab, and
the Chajoma (Rabinal Achi 1955:33, Recinos 1957:55-
61, Las Casas 1958:343), corroborated with E-facing
temples. In the W, single W-facing temples testify to
Nijaib domination (Recinos 1957:75) at Chwa Tz'ak
(Momostenango above), Sija, and Zunil (Fox 1978:Figs.
25, 27). While the Mam of Zaculeu were displaced at first
by the Cawek (Carmack 1973:297), a W-facing temple
oriented 299 degrees to the full moon on the equinoxes
supports a dynamic Nijaib presence. Nonetheless, while
one lineage predominated, "younger brothers" fissioned
from all four major lineages of Utatlan (Totonicapan
1983:198), including members of the Ajaw to Zaculeu
(Carmack 1973:197-8).
The E-W colonies with closer genealogical ties
 170 John W. Fox
remained loyal to Utatlan, in contrast to the rebellious
N-S colonies. Nonetheless, power shifted subtly to the
SW, like the rotation to the W with its Yearbearer Ik.
When ruler 13, Tecum Uman, lost to the Spanish on the
broad plains of Xelaj, it was on the SW horizon with the
sun in its least powerful station (winter solstice). A new
"sun" rose with the Spaniards, and the Yearbearer Quej
of the E, thereby initiating the dialectic between Indian
and Ladino populations that persists today.
Conclusions
The Quiche show how principles of political alliance,
transferred from a collapsed Classic period Tuldn, were
repeatedly transformed according to the processes of
factional competition. We see how calendrics were mani-
pulated by fiercely fractious lineages. Ranking was
keyed to sightings of the sun and Venus, and the planet-
ary identities were also refracted in constellations like
Orion. Yet the most true power brokers maintained
building alignments to convergence points of the solar,
Venusian, and luner cycles, and to the helical rising/
setting of Orion and the Pleiades. Celestial orientations
at successive settlements reveal how ranking changed.
At the onset of the Early Postclassic, triadic egalita-
rian confederates at Jacawitz identified with Venus,
though deferred to the triad of Tuja in the cosmic
"middle," with symbolism of N and the night and of the
equinoxes. Other symbols of alliance were the ancestral
Tuldn, a decapitated Junajpu, the "fire," calendric
tables, and the sacred bundle.
With the Late Postclassic period and the defeat of
the Vukamak, the Cawek usurped the right as spokes-
men from the Ajaw. In Quiche "astronomical history,"
the sun outshone Venus at the dawning, and the war-
riors were upgraded to lords of the sun (state).
However, the Ajaw continued to align to the inferior
conjunction, when Venus was eclipsed by the sun,
paralleling myth when Junajpu journeyed across to the
Underworld. Corners of the sacred triangle at Utatlan
for the Ajaw, Cawek, and Nijaib linked confederation
to the sun's path and to arrangement of stars within
Orion.
Calendrically and mythically, Cawek control of the
key state institutions calibrated the solar equinoxes with
the movements of Orion and Pleiades, as manifested at
the Temples of Tojil and of K'ucumatz and at the ball-
court. Soon, the bold Nijaib politically ascended, but
whose Temple of Awilix oriented to the sun/moon,
Venus and both the Pleiades and Orion on the western
horizon. State mythology focused on Junajpu (Cawek)
and Xbalanque (Nijaib) and buildings of state oriented
S-W. The rolling head of Junajpu bound the lineages in
positional astronomy. Following conquests of the
Tujalja and the Tzutujil effecting a N-S tree axis, the
Quiche expanded to the "nine groups" modeled on the
second concentric ring of a circular Orion. At this time, a
fourth major lineage on the N wing at Utatlan, the Sakic,
effected full quadripartition. Apparently, antagonisms
spurred by the newly arrived Tolteca artisans to fashion
the sumptuous headdresses and jewelry was recounted in
the mythic challenge of the Hero Twins to their artisan
older half brothers. At its apex, the Quiche state effected
a Tuldn with three outer rings for Orion. In comparison,
Tikal also boasted the full thirteen territories (tzuk,
Schele pers. comm.).
The Cawek held sway within colonies in the E, the
Nijaib in the W. As at Utatlan, the lineages of the S and
W grew, and eventually challenged Cawek authority.
Accordingly, first the Tzutujil initiated a rival state on
the S, then the Cakchiquel launched a powerful polity,
allegorically at winter solstice sunrise (SE, i.e., calendri-
cally the beginning of the end). Therefore, on the eve of
the Spanish conquest, the once mighty Quiche state had
unraveled into trinitarian rivals recalling the early equi-
poised triadic alliances introduced from the lowlands.
The shifts in planetary and stellar locations affirm that
sites functional as political observatories became out-
moded during a few centuries. The growth of the nascent
states paralleled the movements of Venus and the sun -
and rebirth of the celestial bodies to commence calendri-
cal and political cycles anew. Then the Quiche political
sun set on the SW horizon and the Spanish sun rose on
the SE at Tecpan Guatemala.
A cknowledgmen ts
Part of this research was funded by the University
Research Committee at Baylor University. I also wish to
acknowledge the substantial contribution of Dr. Jose
Antonio Fernandez Valbuena, especially from long con-
versations during his years of residence at Baylor, and
the interpretations made by Linda Schele.
 factionalism in empirical studies, numerous theories
15 contain this kind of competition as a key element of
political change. Chiefdoms especially appear to have
Factions and political been notable for cycles and expansion and collapse,
possibly fostered by competition between sectors of at
development in the central least fictively related elites (Earle 1978; Wright 1984).
The often small-scale, transitory, poorly structured, and
Andes circumventing aspects of factions make them difficult to
study in prehistory, but this methodological obstacle
should be seen as a challenge, not as a reason for ignor-
TERENCE N. D'ALTROY ing them. Finally, although factionalism is most fre-
quently treated as a destructive force in prehistory (e.g.,
Millon 1988), it is equally possible to see factions as a
force for restructuring sociopolitical relations and for
forming robust, more complex polities. The central
intent of this paper is to examine how this last process
occurred in the fourteenth through sixteenth centuries in
the central Andes.
Investigators of prehistory generally concur that poli- The late pre-Inka period, Wanka II (AD 1300-1460),
tical competition has often been critical to the develop- was a time of political development, population growth,
ment of social complexity. Among the key forms of and local conflict in the last 160 years before the Inka
political contention are hierarchical, peer, polity, expan-expansion. During this era, factionalism underlay the
sionist, and factional competition. These are politically emergence of sociopolitical hierarchies, some forms of
joined processes whose significance varies (1) as the economic specialization, and a movement toward
complexity and reach of the sociopolitical unit is trans-
formed, (2) as the interaction emphasizes internally or
externally directed conflict, and (3) as the competition is
Mantaro Major
structured vertically (e.g., between classes) or horizon- Estimted Andean Valley Inka ceramic
tally (e.g., between polities). This paper focuses attention absolute dates periods periods emperors types
on factionalism in the Upper Mantaro Valley, Peru, AD 1571 Early Wanka Manco glazed
Colonial IV Inka wares
during the late pre-Inka, Inka, and early colonial
periods. These successive periods provide an excellent 1533 Atawalpa Inka
Wascar
opportunity for examining how political activity was 1527 Wanka Wanka Reds
transformed as the context of interaction shifted rapidly III Wayna Base Roja
Base Clara
Qhapac
from autonomous, to imperial, to colonial rule Late
(Fig. 15.1). 1493 Horizon
Thupa
Before discussing the case studies, I would like to Inka
1471 Yupanki
underscore four main points concerning the role of fac- 1463
tional competition in political development. First, 1460
although they lie outside sanctioned structures of socio-
political interaction, factions pervade political activity Wanka
II
Pachacutec Base Roja
from the simplest to the most complex societies. Second, Base Clara
because factionalism often cross-cuts more formal socio- 1438 Wanka Red
political groups, it provides a means by which indi- ^ate
1300 Inter-
viduals or groups restructure ties to obtain power and mediate Wanka
resources (Salisbury and Silverman 1977). The groups Base Clara
that are formed are often volatile, ephemeral, and based 1000
on mutual short-term goals, but the outcome of the
competition may be a reformation of more formal kinds Fig. 15.1 Chronology of Upper Mantaro Valley
of political interaction or, less radically, a shift in leader- occupations; chronology of Inka emperors based on
ship. Third, despite the scant archaeological interest in Cabello Valboa (1951 [1586]; see Rowe 1946.203).

171
 172 Terence N. D'Altroy

75 00'

11"
30'

12' 12
00' 00'

10 20 30 40
O Acostambo
km

75 00'

iR(g. 75.2 The Upper Mantaro region, showing the three sayas of Hatunxauxa, Lurinwanka, and Ananwanka as their
territories were constituted under Inka rule. Based on LeVine 1979.
 Factionalism'and political development in the central Andes
urbanization. Under Inka rule (1460-1533), the source
of political power shifted from autonomous control by
community to delegation by an imperial state. The sierra
polities were incorporated into a system within which
militant factional competition was suppressed or deflec-
ted by assertion of state power. Such rivalries contri-
buted significantly to the formation of the Inka state, to
the establishment of provincial hierarchies, and to the
genesis of the civil war that undermined indigenous
resistance to the Spanish invasion. The last phase, from
the Spanish conquest to the last decades of the sixteenth
century (1533-1600), covers a period in which the collap-
sed Inka power was only partially supplanted by Euro-
pean rule. After the Inka collapse, factionalism provided
a means of reforming power relations within native
society and between the colonial rulers and their sub-
jects. Local competition over offices and benefits oper-
ative under the Inkas was played out in legal contests in
the Spanish Audiencia Real (Royal Court). This paper
will review one such court case over indigenous succes-
sion to office to see how the interplay among the royal
authorities, native paramount elites, and lower elites
addressed the competing interests of local factions.
Wanka II: indigenous sociopolitical development
The area of principal interest for this paper is the Upper
Mantaro Valley, in the central Peruvian sierra (Fig.
15.2). In the last few centuries before the Spanish con-
quest, two major groups, the Xauxa and Wanka,
inhabited the region; together they boasted about
200,000 people. The Wanka included upper (Anan-
wanka) and lower (Lurinwanka) divisions, but neither
division nor the Xauxa was unified before the Inkas.
Local population shifts and concomitant political
realignment provided key mechanisms for the creation
of several chiefdoms that futilely contested the Inka
advance. Although these shifts resulted primarily from
conflict, much of the hostile interaction was not fac-
tional, in that it occurred between independent polities
or ethnic groups. The Yauyos, for example, who
inhabited the highlands west of the Upper Mantaro,
reported in 1586 that their ancestors had fought the
Wankas in the pre-Inka era (Davila Brizeno 1965:153). In
1570, Toledan witnesses reported that exploitation of the
Wanka populace by their own war leaders reallocated
resources in the elites' favor (e.g., Toledo 1940:18, 24, 28,
31). The evidence nonetheless indicates that factionalism
was central to political interaction, as sociopolitical
units formed, broke up, and reaffiliated themselves in the
last couple of centuries before the Inka conquest.
173
Wanka II social organization
Considerable differences of opinion exist on many
aspects of Andean social systems, but some basic
features can be outlined (Zuidema 1964, 1977; Rostwo-
rowski 1988). A central point is that the sierra kin
systems were inclusive, not exclusive. Spanish docu-
ments consistently recorded membership of individuals
by lineage, but the evidence suggests that this was a
misapplication of a European sense of kin relationships,
since lineages in the anthropological sense were likely
not present in the sierra (Zuidema 1977). Kin terms were
ego-oriented and male relatives in the same generation as
distant as FaFaFaBrSoSoSo were termed brother in the
Upper Mantaro (Espinoza 1969). Descent appears to
have been reckoned bilineally (cf. Rowe 1946:254). Espi-
noza (1969:19) suggests that the Wanka use of patri-
lateral surnames by male offspring, but not by female
descendants, indicates the presence of bilineal descent.
Although the evidence he cites comes from the late
sixteenth century, when Spanish rules for descent and
inheritance played an important role, Espinoza's point is
well taken.
Property, including rights to agricultural and grazing
lands, was inherited through both male and female lines.
Rights to political power, however, apparently passed
preferentially through the male line, sometimes directly
from father to son and sometimes through all brothers in
a generation before reverting to the first son of the first
male in that generation (Rostworowski 1961; Espinoza
1969). The former pattern dominated on the north and
central coasts, while the latter may have dominated in
the central highlands. Rostworowski (1988:140-2)
identifies a third form of political inheritance among the
Inkas, in which the son of the paramount elite's sister
(SiSo) gained the office. Because the term sister was
extended widely within a kin group in a particular gener-
ation, and because the Sapa Inka (emperor) himself,
from Thupa Yupanki on, married his "sister," the effect
may have been the same as the first option mentioned
above. A more important point is that inheritance of
political power among the Inkas may have been divorced
from inheritance of the material resources of the
deceased emperor. The significance of this issue will be
raised below, in a discussion of Inka factionalism.
The principal corporate group was the ayllu, an entity
with kinship, political, and territorial foundations (see
Zuidema 1964:26-7, 1977:280). Access to resources, such
as agricultural lands and pastures, was allocated to
households through usufruct (Rowe 1946:254). As was
the case with sociopolitical units from kin groups up to
entire ethnic groups, the ayllu was often divided into
 174 Terence N. D'Altroy
upper and lower moieties, across which many ritualized
competitions were played out. In the Inka case, the
competition for power between Upper (Anan) and
Lower (Hurin) Cuzco was quite real (Rostworowski
1988:35-41), and comparable competition occurred
among north coast political units (Netherly 1978). Many
groups were also divided into three units, called Callao,
Payan, and Collana (Zuidema 1964; Wachtel 1973; Rost-
worowski 1988). It would be convenient to argue that
these units provided an enduring, basic structure for
factional alignment, but there is little concrete evidence
to this effect at present. It appears, however, that ayllu
were internally restructured and externally religned
within larger polities during the last centuries before
Spanish contact. The documentary evidence on indige-
nous politics in the central Andes, while scant and often
partisan, suggests that elites jockeyed for positions of
power within and among corporate groups during all
three periods of present interest.
Factional competition in oral history
The best documentation on pre-Inka conflict in the
Upper Mantaro appears in the 1570 visita of Viceroy
Toledo (1940), who questionedfiveLurinwanka and one
resettled (mitmaq) Llaguas elite in the town of Concep-
tion.1 Some queries treated the nature of sociopolitical,
military, and economic affairs prior to Inka rule. The
nature, scope, causes, and resolution of conflicts point to
a process in which factional competition contributed to
consolidating power under a few individuals and kin
groups (see LeBlanc 1981; Hastorf 1983; D'Altroy 1987).
The oral histories recounted that the military comman-
ders of essentially self-sufficient communities took on
increasingly permanent roles as political elites. These
leaders, termed cinchecona (singular, cinche), existed
throughout the Andean sierra at this time (e.g. Sar-
miento 1960; Cieza 1967, 1984). The idealized view of
accession to political power was that leaders were selec-
ted by community consensus and that the position of
leader became dormant during peacetime (e.g., Toledo
1940:18, 22-3, 27, 30, 33-4). This ideal was transgressed
in practice, as the witnesses observed that cinchecona
promoted warfare for their own and their immediate
subordinates' benefit. Moreover, they retained power
between hostilities and passed it preferentially to male
offspring, thus taking the crucial step from a position of
ephemeral power to one of greater permanence. The
ostensible causes of conflict were pressure on community
resources, especially lands, herds, and women (Toledo
1940:19, 24, 28, 31, 35). It is intriguing that the private
gain of these leaders gives lie to the oft-cited Andean
ideal of self-sufficient communities within which access
to resources was allocated on the basis of need.
This information on promotion of conflict for access
to resources has some interesting archaeological corre-
lates. Hastorf and Earle (1985) have shown that, viewed
regionally, productive lands in the Upper Mantaro
region, especially in the lower valley, were underex-
ploited during the Late Intermediate period. At the same
time, high, rolling uplands only 10 km away were inten-
sified through construction of irrigation systems associ-
ated with large, nucleated settlements. The pattern of
localized use of land resources is supported by the con-
sistent recovery of high-elevation food crops in resi-
dential compounds and the relative lack of maize-
complex crops (Earle et al. 1987:82-4). Hastorf and
Earle conclude that the intensification of production
during Wanka II resulted from demand set by the poli-
tical economy and not from the requirements of feeding
the growing regional population.
Ceremonial hospitality and redistribution
In this climate, political restructuring most likely entailed
a mix of inducement and coercion. The key issue in
inducement lay in attracting enough labor for production
and military protection. The evidence for ceremonial
hospitality throughout the Andes in late prehistory sug-
gests that redistributional relations mediated groups
reaffiliations. With my apologies for retracing some well-
trodden paths, it will be worthwhile recapitulating four
views of redistribution found in the literature. A resilient
position holds that many elaborate ceremonial-redistri-
butional complexes were most clearly concerned with
attainment of prestige and structuring social relations.
Redistribution thus served little or no purpose with
respect to subsistence or utilitarian economics. The
Melanesian big-man feasts and American Northwest
coast potlatches, in which the host apparently impover-
ished himself, are cited as ceremonies in which the goal
was to attain prestige at great cost of material goods,
labor, and political favors (e.g., Codere 1950).
This view contrasts with one that treats redistribution
as a means of reallocating goods among economically
specialized units, within a centrally run polity (e.g.,
Polanyi 1956; Murra 1980). In the evolutionary version
of this argument, a chief emerges to mediate the
exchange of these specialized products (Service 1975). A
third position holds that redistribution served a variety
of ends, depending on the complexity of the society
(Earle 1977, 1978). In material terms, these ranged from
reallocating pooled resources within domestic or cooper-
ative groups to maintaining elite institutions through
 Factionalism and political development in the central Andes
mobilization of goods and services. Political goals
entailed cementing political relations, predominantly
between elites and their subordinates.
A fourth view focuses on politics, labor, and demo-
graphic reafiliation. Price (1984:223) observes that, in
developing ranked societies, a chief's position depends
upon his ability to control labor and its output without
controlling the resources from which output is derived.
Where land is not at a premium and labor is the key to
power, the political economy is structured around main-
taining elites and retainers, and attracting new consti-
tuents. Redistribution in this context serves as a political
activity, most significantly to move population, not
goods.
Ample ethnographic precedent exists to consider
population shifts and reaffiliations to be critical in some
redistributional systems. Without drawing the parallels
too exactingly, I would like to use the Northwest Coast
societies as a model for the changes that occurred in the
Andean sierra in the late Late Intermediate Period.
Donald and Mitchell tie group social ranking within the
Southern Kwakiutl potlatch to population distribution,
the predictability and distribution of anadromous fish
resources, and warfare. They show that Boas' and
Ford's lists of group social ranks in 1830 and 1880 at
specific potlatches were highly correlated both with the
ranks of the group population and the size of the annual
median fish runs within group territory (Donald and
Mitchell 1975:334). Group population itself was best
explained by the size and relative variation of the fish
run. These authors argue that inter-village warfare dis-
couraged village fissioning, because larger villages had a
decided advantage in gaining access to productive terri-
tories. In essence, social rank was derived from the
group's ability to marshal labor for military, cere-
monial, and political activities. The demands for military
preparedness would thus have made population aggre-
gation and alliance formation advantageous.
The potlatch provided a mechanism for tying together
political and demographic restructuring. Adams' (1973)
ethnographic work on the Gitksan potlatch shows that
the ceremony acted more directly to redistribute popu-
lation to resources than to move goods to needy people.
He found that populations tended to move from larger
to smaller houses within the same crest, to maintain the
latter's viability and capacity to potlatch. It is not diffi-
cult to envision a shift in the opposite direction. Cases of
reassignment of individual and group reaffiliations,
mediated through ritual feasting, are readily available in
the anthropological literature (see Adams 1973:106-9;
Price 1984 for additional cases).
The extension of ties along varying lines is an honored
175
principle among societies in which reduction of risk or
amassing of power is a critical issue. In essence, the
ceremonial hospitality announces group labor capacities
and allows groups to assess the advantages of reaffili-
ation (Rappaport 1971b). Given the advantages in mobi-
lizing labor for production and conflict, the relationship
among demographic and political reorganization and
ceremonialism is largely explicable in terms of factional
competition. From the chief's perspective, ceremonial
redistribution was key in keeping low the costs of com-
peting for labor (Price 1984:227). It was cheaper to
attract people through distribution than to compel their
participation. For the mobile populace, reaffiliation
promised to reduce risk and increase status.
Archaeological correlates of factional competition
This model integrates elements of factionalism seemingly
present in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries in the
Andean sierra. Its components are (1) the presence of
multiple, comparable sociopolitical entities, (2) popu-
lation movement, (3) localized conflict, (4) cere-
monialism and symbolic representation, and (5) devel-
opment of new statuses. Archaeological expectations of
the model include the following. With respect to settle-
ment organization, evidence of both fissioning and
aggregation may be expected. Depending on the degree
to which the factionalism created larger polities, settle-
ment hierarchies should have developed, focused around
incipient centers of political control. Similarly, the popu-
lation should have become increasingly concentrated
into defensive settlements to protect against predatory
competitors. Material evidence for feasting in associ-
ation with public areas may also be expected, along with
a proliferation in the manufacture and use of status
objects (see Peebles and Kus 1977).
The settlement data show that the Upper Mantaro
region changed dramatically from Wanka I (AD 1000-
1350) to Wanka II (135O-1460).2 The first period was
characterized by small (3.4 ha) settlements that were
internally undifferentiated. Site-size hierarchies and
civic-ceremonial architecture were both absent, although
defensive positioning and architecture at a few sites
indicate that warfare had probably become important. In
Wanka II, site-size hierarchies and corporate architec-
ture indicative of regional differentiation in political
power were significant new features. The estimated
population in the study region increased about 9.3 times
and the populations at the largest communities increased
from about 1700 to about 11-13,000. The population
shifted location to defensible, hilltop positions as the
number of settlements was cut almost in half.
 176 Terence N. D'Altroy
200m
Fig. 15.3 Site plan of Tunanmarca (J7), Wanka II center; the numbered compounds were excavated.
The largest Wanka II settlements contain well-defined
spatial divisions. Most obvious are the two residential
sectors found at the centers of Hatunmarca (J2) and
Tunanmarca (J7), and at smaller towns (e.g., J109).
These settlements also contained sectors separated by
walls that sometimes traversed the residential zones.
While systematic study of the internal divisions has not
been undertaken, some sectors contained several
hundred structures, enough to house over a thousand
individuals. The present data are not adequate to argue
for self-sufficiency or specialization of these sectors, but
it seems likely that these divisions were residential neigh-
borhoods set apart from adjoining areas.
The chronicler Cieza (1984: chapter lxxxiii, 243)
described these abandoned, hilltop, pre-Inka settlements
as divided into barrios. It is tempting to suggest that
these sectors coincided neatly with social groupings,
such as the ayllu or multi-ayllu alliances. Evidence from
Inkaic Cuzco and from modern, traditional, sierra settle-
ments indicates that upper and lower ayllu divisions
could be separated spatially within communities (e.g.,
Rowe 1967; Isbell 1978), but ayllu members were some-
times resident in several physical settlements (Murra
1972). We cannot therefore assume a direct correlation
between entire ayllu and residential sectors. Moreover,
litigation from the early colonial period indicates that at
least some settlements contained a number of ayllu in
late prehistory (see Espinoza 1969). This situation did
not necessarily predate the Inka conquest, given that the
settlement pattern shifted under imperial rule, but such
an organization would be a likely consequence of fac-
tional competition and alliance in large communities.
The presence of elite architectural sectors in Tunan-
marca (Fig. 15.3), the largest Wanka II center, further
suggests that several groups, of approximately compar-
able status, were present. Residential compounds with
multiple structures, elegant masonry, and large plazas
were built in at least three distinct locations, one of them
a considerable distance from the central public area. It is
intriguing, however, that the room sizes at Tunanmarca
did not vary systematically between elite and commoner
statuses or across the site (DeMarrais 1989). This indi-
cates that there was little or no (global) spatial pattern-
ing in structure size at this center, although the half
dozen largest buildings were grouped together.
Status and ceremonial activity
The model outlined above presumes that public cere-
monial activity and symbolic representations of rank will
take on great significance during factional competition.
Solid evidence for such ceremonial hospitality can be
found in two contexts: the central plaza areas and elite
residential compounds.
At Tunanmarca, an extensive midden area lies adja-
cent to the central plaza. A test trench (1.0 x 3.0 x 0.8 m)
yielded in excess of 600 large sherd fragments, virtually
all from moderately sized jars, in a matrix of fine ash.
The ceramics show some evidence of use and little evi-
dence of the misfiring expected from wasters. The best
interpretation of the deposit is that it represents the
discarded remains of feasting conducted in the plaza or
adjacent, unusually large buildings (cf. Costin 1986).
The concentration of certain ceramic forms, fauna,
and labor-intensive goods (e.g., exotics and metals) in
 Factionalism and political development in the central Andes 177

Wanka II Copper Ubiquity Wanka III Copper Ubiquity

(% of exc. units with copper) (% of exc. units with copper)

15

I commoner elite

mean 0.11
n * 12

10
a
o
o

5
CD

10 , 20 10 20
Ubiquity (%) Ubiquity (%)

Fig. 15.4 Ubiquity of copper in Wanka II and HI residential compounds.

the dispersed elite compounds further supports the contained greater quantities of bones (elite:
notion of decentralized ceremonial activity and power in X = 107.2 m3; commoner: X = 43.1 m3). Moreover, the
Wanka II. Costin (pp. 2949) shows that elite com- elites selected the meaty parts of the animals and butcher-
pounds contain a high proportion of high-necked jars ing took place in the elite compounds (Sandefur
(elite: X = 0.864 kg/m3; commoner: X = 0.164 kg/m3) 1988:199, 216). As Sandefur argues, these kinds of
and deep basins (elite: X = 0.530 kg/m3; commoner: evidence are expected from the preparation and hosting
X = 0.110 kg/m3). She argues that this was a con- of large feasts.
sequence of preparing, storing, and serving large quanti- Production and consumption of status goods is a
ties of food and maize beer for group feasts. complicated issue that can only be outlined here. The
Sandefur's (1988) faunal analysis shows that meat, excavated evidence indicates that, in Wanka II, metal
which was mostly camelid, was prepared by boiling or and shell objects were largely produced and consumed
roasting. The latter required far more labor, because within elite compounds (Earle et al. 1987; Owen in
firewood and other combustibles are scarce at high press). Metal objects were consistently decorative or
elevations. Burned bone, likely indicative of roasting, symbolic and appear to have had little value as tools - in
was almost four times as dense in elite (X = 44.18 kg/m3) contrast to the common copper tools of Inka times. The
residential compounds as in commoner (X = Wanka II metals included tupus, ornaments, and disks,
11.72 kg/m3; Sandefur 1988:182). Although the the last mostly in silver. Figs. 15.415.7 show the distri-
density of camelid meat itself (estimated on the basis of bution of silver and copper among residential com-
recovered bone) did not vary notably between the two pounds for Wanka II and III. Both ubiquity (percent
classes, the elite compounds were larger and therefore presence in excavation units of a given compound) and
 178 Terence N. D 'Altroy
Density of Wanka II Copper
I commoner P^MI elite
mean * 2.8 gm/cu m
n = 17
10 20
gm/ cu m
Fig. 15.5 Density of copper in Wanka II and HI residential compounds.
density (gm/m3) measures show that metals were concen-
trated in elite compounds in Wanka II, which would be
expected where labor-intensive goods marked status. In
partial contrast, however, are the data from the burial
population, which show a positive correlation between
the age of the individual and the quantity of associated
burial goods (Owen and Norconk 1987). This suggests
that personal achievement remained significant in status
assignment and that hierarchies among kin groups were
not yet well established.
Summary of Wanka II
To summarize, the Wanka II phase saw the emergence of
chiefdom society. Factionalism and personal recruit-
ment to charismatic leaders were significant in regional
conflict, along with peer polity competition. The settle-
ment pattern indicates that political hierarchies were
likely present and that warfare was a major concern. The
architecture suggests that status differences were marked
by elaboration of simple buildings - not by erection of
Density of Wanka III Copper
commoner ; elite
mean 5.2 gm/cu m
n = 12
30 30
gm/ cu m
monumental structures - and that the societies' elites
had not gravitated to common living areas within settle-
ments. Household-based and centralized ceremonialism
imply that power was still dispersed within communities,
and that the latter provided a mechanism to induce demo-
graphic shifts and political reaffiliation.
Factional competition under the Inkas
The Inkas began their expansion into the largest empire
in the indigenous New World in the early fifteenth
century. In about fifty years, they conquered the terri-
tory from modern Ecuador to central Chile and north-
west Argentina, incorporating twelve million or more
people within the imperial boundaries. The Upper
Mantaro region was taken about 1460 by Thupa Inka
Yupanki and the Inkas set about constructing a physical
infrastructure of administrative settlements and logisti-
cal facilities (Fig. 15.8). In this region, as in other cases,
the Inkas relied heavily on local elites for state admin-
 Factionalism and political development in the central Andes
Wanka II Silver Ubiquity
(% of exc. units with silver)
15
loner M elite
mean s 0.03
n - 17
0)
"D
5 10
a
I
o
CD
10 20
Ubiquity
Fig. 15.6 Ubiquity of silver in Wanka II and HI residential compounds.
istration at the same time that resistant communities
were deported en masse.
A fundamental question concerns how the imperial
conquest transformed factional interaction. Murra
(1980:32) has observed that imperial control did not end
local conflicts, but channeled their resolution to the
state. In addressing disputes, however, the Inkas had to
balance two conflicting goals. First, they had an interest
in keeping local hostilities dampened, to reduce the
problems of governance. Internecine conflict had the
potential for disrupting attainment of state goals,
especially if active conflicts had to be subdued militarily.
Even adjudicated disputes could be costly in administra-
tive resources. Conversely, it was to the state's advan-
tage to permit or even promote some local rivalry,
because it inhibited alliances threatening to state
control. When local factionalism could be directed to
competition for state favor, this served state interests.
The existence of long-term regional conflicts was there-
fore to the state's benefit and detriment.
179
Wanka III Silver Ubiquity
(% of exc. units with silver)
15
ioner elite
mean - 0.02
n 12
20
Ubiquity (%)
Inka factional competition
The Inkas themselves were intimately familiar with fac-
tionalism, since power struggles in the royal kin groups
of Cuzco provided the means of selecting each imperial
successor. Inka king lists, recounted in about a score of
Spanish chronicles, somewhat misleadingly record only
three emperors from the ascension of the first expan-
sionist emperor, Pachacutec, c. 1438, to the civil war that
immediately preceded the Spanish invasion of 1532. If
we are to believe the codified royal history reported to
the Spaniards, each succession was contested and lethal
infighting among Cuzco nobility and royalty posed a
major threat to the stability of both the pre-imperial
polity and the empire (see Rowe 1946; Rostworowski
1960, 1988:50-61, 137-8).
In the semi-mythical Inka histories, the impetus for
Inka expansion lay in a victory over their neighboring
enemies, the Chancas. This was led by Cusi Yupanki
(later Pachacutec Inka Yupanki), son of the paramount
Inka, Viracocha, who had fled Cuzco in the face of the
 180 Terence N. D'Altroy
Density of Wanka II Silver
commoner i elite
mean * 0.12 gm/cu m
n = 17
10
0.1 gm/cu m
Fig. 15.7 Density of silver in Wanka II and III residential compounds.
Chanca attack. Pachacutec's victory and subsequent
triumphal return to Cuzco underwrote his cooption of
leadership. To secure this position, Pachacutec displaced
his father, killing his brother, Urco, the heir apparent.
Pachacutec's son Thupa Inka Yupanki showed himself
more able than the heir designate, Amaru Yupanki, and
succeeded to power. Even in office, the emperor was not
immune from palace intrigue. Sarmiento (1960:chapter
51), for instance, reported a coup attempt against Thupa
Yupanki by his brother Thupa Qhapac, while the former
was in Ecuador; Thupa Yupanki may ultimately have
been assassinated. He was succeeded by Wayna Qhapac,
one of several aspirants to the throne, who consolidated
his power by killing two of his brothers (Guaman Poma
1980:/l 13 [113]: p. 93).
Effects on the Xauxas and Wankas
Given the internal competition among the Inkas, it is not
surprising that the death of Wayna Qhapac c. 1527
precipitated a civil war between two of his sons,
Density of Wanka III Silver
commoner \ elite
a
mean 0.11 gm/cu m
n - 12
12 4 6 8
0.1 gm/cu m
Atawalpa and Wascar. The Upper Mantaro inhabitants
sided with Wascar, sending thousands of troops into a
series of losing battles. They also contributed the hapless
principal commander for the defense, Guanca Auqui,
son of Wayna Qhapac and a Xauxa woman (Guaman
Poma 1980:/114[114]: p. 93). As Espinoza (1971, 1973a),
principal modern chronicler of the Wankas, has
described, the Wanka defeat caused them to view the
Spaniards as saviors. They therefore tossed in their lot
with the invaders, while the Ecuadorian Inka army was
resident at Hatun Xauxa, the provincial center. In this
way, factional competition among the Inka royal kin
had a very direct, devastating effect on the fortunes of
the residents of the Upper Mantaro and contributed to
the demise of the empire.
For the provincial populace, factionalism under
imperial rule was less well-documented than for the
Inkas and is more difficult to assess archaeologically
than for the Wanka II phase. It is clear, however, that
the imposition of the Inka state had an impact on the
 Factionalism and political development in the central Andes 181

# Inka site
O Inka storage site
# Wanka site
~- Survey boundary
& Modern town

Elevation in meters
o 5
km

7520'

Fig. 15.8 Late Horizon (Inka and Wanka HI) settlement pattern in the northern Upper Mantaro Valley.

nature of regional conflicts, the sociopolitical groups
involved, and the means of their resolution. The estab-
lishment of Inka control very likely froze some disputes
in progress that were not readily resolved under the new
regime. Similarly, the creation of new sociopolitical and
territorial divisions within the region provided a new
source of factional conflict. A particular source of con-
tention lay in the location of boundaries among three
new provincial subdivisions called saya, over each of
which the Inkas placed local, elite kin groups. These
divisions included Hatunxauxa (Surichaque or Cusi-
chaca kin), Lurinwanka (Guacrapaucar kin), and Anan-
wanka (Apoalaya kin). As late as the rule of Wayna
Qhapac (1493-1527), border disputes flared up among
the three paramount lords. Cieza (1967: chapter lxiv:
p. 215) reported that the emperor assembled the lords to
 182 Terence N. D 'Altroy
resolve the disputes as he passed through on his way to
military campaigns in Ecuador. The shift of settlements
downslope under Inka rule also assuredly created rifts
that had to be adjudicated, but I am unfortunately
unaware of any documentation on this issue.
Some correlates of factional competition may be
recognized in the archaeological record, but it would be
pushing the data to say that the available evidence is
clearly indicative of this kind of strife. One line of evi-
dence cited for the Wanka II period was the concentra-
tion of population in defensive hilltop settlements.
Under the Inkas, this shift was reversed and many
people moved back to the valley flanks. This shift is best
interpreted as a consequence of Inka efforts to reduce
the military capabilities of subject groups, Wanka and
Xauxa interests in cultivating maize lands and living
near the Inka center of activity, and dispersal of the
population to reduce agricultural costs.
Among the major Wanka III settlements, only Hatun-
marca is well enough preserved to indicate that two
separate residential sectors were occupied under Inka
rule. The new major town in the area, Marca, has been
disturbed by agriculture and the interior organization
obliterated. Excavations in the central areas of each
residential sector at Hatunmarca show that each was
occupied by elite families, as were the central areas of the
Wanka II Tunanmarca. As noted for Wanka II, it is
tempting to suggest that these residential sectors per-
tained to upper and lower moiety divisions and that
these constituted groups competing for power within the
community. There is as yet, however, no clear evidence
to this effect.
Once imperial rule was established, redistribution and
ceremonial hospitality no longer served principally to
realign population for local competition. Some Inka
policies were in fact intended to reduce the alliance
formation that characterized the Late Intermediate
period. Among these were the resettlement program,
installation of internal garrisons, requirements for main-
taining ethnic differences in speech and dress, and
replacement of insubordinate elites with individuals
loyal to the state. At the same time, the rulers made
considerable efforts to inculcate provincial groups in
Inka culture (Rowe 1982). At the upper levels of provin-
cial politics, ceremonialism became a hierarchical, state-
dominated activity and local elites were muzzled in their
capacity to act out factional competition through
feasting.
The Upper Mantaro was favored politically and per-
sonally by Thupa Yupanki and Wascar. Some chron-
iclers recorded that local elites provided services and
receptions for the emperor that he then rewarded (Sar-
miento 1960: chapter 52: 257; Guaman Poma 1980:/
116[116]:94; Cieza 1967: chapter lxiv: 215). The docu-
ments emphasize the role of exchange in integrating
hierarchical levels in the sociopolitical organization.
Later analyses often treat this redistribution as the
empire's and kurakas1 means of meeting their material
and symbolic obligations to their constituent popu-
lations (e.g., Wachtel 1977). Although this responsibility
was undoubtedly fulfilled by hosting public festivities,
the movement of goods and services between elites and
commoners served principally as a means of underwrit-
ing the elite populace and their retainers (Earle and
D'Altroy 1982). The effective role of redistribution
therefore shifted from attracting followers to sustaining
political hierarchies, often with the state seal of
approval.
In a preceding section, ceramic and faunal remains
were used to show a concentration of feasting in elite
households in Wanka II. This evidence shows modified
activities under Inka rule. The fauna indicate that some
differences between elites and commoners were reduced,
in part because of increases in camelid meat processing
and consumption by commoners. For instance, com-
moner households (X = 146.8 kg/m3) actually yielded
higher concentrations of camelid meat than did the elites
(X = 129.6 kg/m3; Sandefur 1988:171). The status differ-
ences in concentration of meaty parts essentially dis-
appeared, and the relative amount of burned bone was
reduced from 3.8:1.0 to 1.7:1.0 (p. 182).
With respect to pottery, Costin has shown that labor-
intensive Inka ceramics supplanted vessels of local
manufacture in elite and public contexts in Wanka III
settlements. This was especially visible with the intro-
duction of Inka flared-rim jars and the virtual elimi-
nation of traditional deep basins and high-necked jars,
important in Wanka II hospitality. The density of basin
rims decreased 87.2 percent (to X = 0.068 kg/m!) and
high-necked jars 78.1 percent (to X = 0.189 kg/m1) in
elite compounds from Wanka II to III.
The distribution of state ceramics at the Inka provin-
cial center of Hatun Xuaxa (J5) and the Xauxa towns of
Hatunmarca (J2) and Marca (J54) provides insight into
sociopolitical divisions and access to sumptuary goods
(D'Altroy and Bishop 1990). Compositional analysis
(INAA) of the Inka ceramics at these settlements sug-
gests that they were manufactured from two sets of
source materials, both state controlled. Most of the
ceramics from Hatun Xuaxa and Marca came from
mutually indistinguishable source materials, while those
at Hatunmarca came from another source.
 Factionalism and political development in the central Andes
Inka Ceramic Compositional Group
(posterior reclassification)
14 5 21 6 24
100
80
60-
J45 J2 J4 J54 J16 J5
Site number
IH J2 group J5 group
J54 group Other
Fig. 15.9 Percentages of chemically characterized Inka
ceramics belonging to compositional groups, by site: the
x-axis is a one-dimensional scaling solution to the
geographic distances among sites J2, J4, J5, J16-17,
J45,andJ54.
Fig. 15.9 shows the distribution of the Inka ceramics
from these sites and three others taken to be closely
affiliated with the state, on the basis of location, ceramic
assemblage, and architecture: J4 (residential/ceremo-
nial), J16-17 (storage), and J45 (waystation). In this
graph, the X-axis represents a one-dimensional scaling
solution for the spatial proximity of these sites to one
another. If the residents of adjacent sites had been
obtaining their ceramics from the same sources, one
would expect similar proportions of sources among
adjacent bars in the graph. It is clear, however, that this
is not the case. Sites J45 and J4, for instance, lay closer to
Hatunmarca than to either Marca or Hatunxauxa (see
Fig. 15.8), but got their ceramics primarily from the
Marca source group. A sociopolitical explanation for
this pattern is supported particularly because the distri-
183
bution of state ceramics does not follow a distance-decay
model focused around potential sources of production.
One possibility is that the elites resident at Marca were
outcompeting those at Hatunmarca for Inka favor and
were granted a position of higher status. Distribution of
these items of state affiliation and prestige may have
occurred along a dendritic structure in which preferred
access resulted from political ties.
The production and distribution of metals also shows
a truncation of the abilities of Upper Mantaro residents
to compete politically under the Inkas. From Wanka II
to III, the use of copper increased markedly, but silver
was less common (see Figs. 15.4-15.7). Because of the
status-related use of the silver in Wanka II, we infer that
the Inka state tapped off the raw materials used to make
local status markets. Instead, the use of metals shifted
primarily to copper tools, although some copper disks
were made in imitation of the Wanka II silver disks
(Owen in press).
Summary of Wanka III
The imposition of Inka rule transformed factionalism in
the Upper Mantaro, as warfare and political reaffili-
ation, mediated by ceremonial activity, were precluded.
Political infighting continued, however, as new sociopo-
litical divisions and positions of status were created.
The best strategy in this competition shifted from
recruiting a supporting populace to currying state favor.
The factionalism that characterized imperial succession
resulted in a civil war in the late 1520s, with a devastat-
ing effect on the regional groups, who sided with the
losing cause. This precipitated their alliance with the
invading Spaniards, thus contributing to the Inka
collapse.
Factional competition in the early colonial period
In the volatile sixteenth century, Spanish rule changed
the juridical setting from an Andean context to
European-model courts, and therefore transformed the
means of resolving factional disputes. Nonetheless,
many conflicts arose from Andean concepts of rights and
obligations and often occurred between native elites or
groups. Here, the two sides of politics - cooperation and
competition - are clearly defined. In their disputes,
native leaders selectively emphasized political affiliations
defined by kin ties, native/colonial alliances, and class
standing. The ethnohistorical literature has taken par-
ticular advantage of the blizzard of paperwork produced
in claims concerning rights to land and labor, tax obli-
gations, political succession, and the rights of displaced
 184 Terence N. D'Altroy

Apo (I) 1
Misari

Guaman Cargua
Misari (2) Misari (3)2

Mango Jullca Parian

Misari (4) Misari

I
Juan (no Gonzalo Juan
Mango heir) Catan Julca
Misari I (7)3 Yarco (5)2 Misari (6)2

Juan (no Gonzalo Cristobal 4

Guaman heir) Paitan Cargua (9)
Misari (8) Misari Alaya I

Cristobal
Cargua (10)
Alaya II

1
order of succession to office of ayllu lord.
2
regent only
3
Juan Mango Misari was underage at the time of his father's death (Mango Misari) and Jullca Misari
and Parian Misari had died previously. At the time of Gonzalo Catan Yarco's death, Juan Mango
Misari was still underage, and the office went to Juan Julca Misari. Juan Mango Misari assumed
office while Juan Julca Misari was still alive.
4
Cristobal Cargua Alaya succeeded to office by appointment of the saya paramount lord, Francisco
Apo Cusichaca, and was confirmed in office by the Spanish authorities, shifting the cacicazgo from
the Misari family to the Alaya family.
Source: Espinoza 1969:48 Insert; (1571):doc. 1:55-56; (1597):doc. 3:63-64.

Fig. 15.10 Simplified succession of lords of the ayllu Lurinhuailas.

groups installed to produce for the Inkas. The key issues
for this paper are the infighting among native elites
seeking power in the new regime, cooperation of native
and European authorities against comparable factions,
and indigenous collaboration against the Spaniards.
The participation of native societies in the Spanish
courts had a number of consequences. Stern (1982a,
1982b:292) observes that, although lawsuits occasionally
furthered the short-term goals of indigenous litigants,
the process bound them to the European system of rule
and to alliances with Spanish authorities. Access to
courts also shifted the balance of power among factions,
because population size and the consequent capacity to
engage in war no longer carried the same weight in
resolving disputes. Greater access to resources and labor
gave well-placed kurakas an advantage in bribing
officials, and wealth often gave legitimacy, but conflicts
could seldom be settled by brute force alone, an effective
expedient less than a century earlier. Moreover, access to
the courts provided a new conceptual foundation for
indigenous litigants, as Spanish notions of social rela-
tions and legalities opened the door for claims that might
have been specious on the basis of native tradition alone.
Several disputes that arose in the Upper Mantaro
region were pursued through the Spanish courts. One of
the most intriguing, traced by Espinoza (1969), con-
 Factionalism and political development in the central Andes 185

cerned a long conflict among three lines from two kin Before considering the implications of the lawsuits for
groups, each trying to secure rights to the cacicazgo of factionalism, the collaboration of native elites both in
the ayllu Lurinhuailas, in the village of Huacjrasmarca support of and against these same Spanish authorities
and say a of Hatunxauxa. The cacicazgo was a valuable may be addressed briefly. From 1533 until 1554, the
office, even under Spanish rule, because it could include Xauxas and Wankas provided the conquistadores with
a fixed income, provide labor for the household, fields, vast amounts of supplies, soldiers, and bearers in their
and flocks, relieve the family of some tax burdens, and efforts to attain control of the Inka domain (Espinoza
provide status in native and colonial eyes. 1971), costing the native populace up to a third of its
This case can be summarized briefly (Fig. 15.10), but membership (Murra 1975:243-54). The early supplies
Espinoza's exposition is recommended for a detailed were provided in proportion to the populations of the
treatment. About 1460, the kuraka Apo Misari was say as, according to the last Inka census of the mid-1530s.
recognized as lord of the ayllu Lurinhuailas by Thupa This balance exhibits both coordination at the highest
Inka Yupanki, who had conquered the region. During level of indigenous authority and an ethic in which
Inka and early colonial rule, a lineal series of eldest certain obligations were proportional to the tax-paying
surviving sons assumed the position of kuraka, with population, even after the Inka demise. Collaboration
close male relatives serving as regent at times that heirs among the saya paramounts is underscored by the inter-
apparent were underage. One regent, Juan Julca Misari, marriage of all three families by the end of the sixteenth
who assumed office in 1549, was recognized as the century (Espinoza 1971).
kuraka by the inspector Damian de la Bandera, either In 1558-61, the most elite lords of the valley petitioned
mistakenly or through native collusion (Espinoza the Audiencia Real in Lima for restitution for goods and
1969:doc. 2:57). In an effort to ensure that his own services (Alaya 1971; Guacrapaucar 1971a, 1971b, 1971c;
underage son be recognized as ayllu lord, Juan Julca Cusichaca et al. 1971). Rather than accede, the Spaniards
Misari unsuccessfully attempted to get a lord from the demanded such onerous labor that a kuraka from Jauja
ayllu of Sacras, don Cristobal [Cargua] Alaya, appointed was jailed in Lima for failing to provide adequate labor in
regent (Espinoza 1969: doc. 2:57). Upon Juan Julca Lima, ten days' unpaid walk away (Vega 1896:119-21).
Misari's death about 1570, the cacicazgo reverted to the In 1565, feeling ill used, the paramounts amassed arms
original lineal successor, Juan Manco Misari (I), who and food for the abortive Taki Onqoy millennarian rebel-
died in 1585. His investiture was challenged unsuccess- lion (Wachtel 1973:113-15; Stern 1982a:51-71).
fully on behalf of Juan Julca Misari's underage son, Although open revolt never occurred, the secretly
implying that the dispute lay not between individuals, planned action underscores the re-emphasis of political
but between kin-based factions (Espinoza 1969:28). The allegiance under changing circumstances.4
Spanish inspector da Silva ruled in favor of Juan Manco Three aspects of change in dispute resolution can be
Misari (I), because witnesses identified Juan Julca Misari elicited from these cases. The first concerns the kurakas'
as an interim gobernador, not as a legitimately entitled use of multiple sources of legitimacy for their claims:
kuraka. indigenous rights of inheritance corroborated by Inka
When Juan Manco Misari (I) died, his underage son appointment, Spanish recognition in an inspection, and
Juan Manco Misari (II) was supplanted by Cristobal usurpation fostered and confirmed by regional para-
Cargua Alaya, who ruled the cacicazgo for twelve years mounts and Spanish administrators. The original line
by appointment of the saya paramount, Francisco Apo from Apo Misari down through Juan Mango Misari (II)
Cusichaca. The latter's son, Juan Ticse Cusichaca, was followed the patrilateral inheritance of political power,
witness to Alaya's formal investiture by the Spanish described in the pre-Inka oral history. This power was
authorities the next year, despite well-founded protest- corroborated by Thupa Inka Yupanki's grant of the
ations that Alaya was from a different ayllu. Testimony cacicazgo and succession of generations of kurakas. In
disclosed that the saya paramount may have been favor- contrast, Juan Julca Misari misrepresented his position
ably inclined toward Cristobal Cargua Alaya, because to be legitimate lord, rather than regent, to the inspector
the latter had served the former from childhood. It thus da Silva, providing grounds for suits by Misari's kin
appears that the paramount stood to gain the loyalty of group. Finally, the appointment of an elite by the saya
the kuraka, by placing afictiverelative in the position of paramount, combined with the assertion of Spanish
ayllu lord. Ultimately, the litigation resulted in the con- authorities that he was more able than another candi-
tinued investiture of the Alaya line by the Spanish date, provided the means by which a usurper was
authorities.3 installed in office.
 186 Terence N. D'Altroy
The last point directs attention to the role of regional
lords in power relations among lower elites under
Spanish rule. The replacement of subordinate elites by
more malleable officials was well-established by the
Inkas and it is hardly surprising that the regional elites
continued this practice. It is provocative that an ayllu
regent (Juan Julca Misari [I]) aspired to have an outsider
appointed, since this raises the possibility that something
comparable had been done previously. Only the para-
mount Cusichaca, however, apparently had the power to
appoint subject lords over the objections of the affected
ayllu. In a broad sense, this action suggests the means of
development of a stratum of elites who were not neces-
sarily directly related to the groups over which they
ruled.
The third element of factional competition under-
scored by these lawsuits is that participation in the
courts made it advantageous for the indigenous populace
to ally themselves with well-placed Spaniards. For
instance, the curador Pedro de Amaya spoke on
Gonzalo Paitan Misari's behalf in 1571 (Espinoza
1969:doc. l:p. 53), an alliance that indicates Andean-
European cooperation undertaken to the benefit of both
parties. In the 1558-61 depositions, numerous Spaniards
also provided corroborative testimony, including
Damian de la Bandera (Guacrapaucar 1971c:257-9),
who would be the visitador of the Valley in 1571, and
Ines Yupanqui, sister of the Inka emperor Atawalpa
(pp. 254-7). What each of the Spaniards stood to gain
from their partisan support is unclear, but the collabor-
ation between native and conqueror in factional disputes
had become an active element of political action in the
colonial period.
Summary of the early colonial period
The collapse of Inka control left a partial power vacuum
in the sierra, which was not immediately filled by the
conquistadores. The nature of factional competition is
hazy for the succeeding couple of decades, although rifts
clearly existed among the conquistadores themselves,
subject ethnic groups, and even the Inkas concerning the
appropriate leadership of European and native groups.
Once armed resistance was curtailed and colonial power
began to take hold, jockeying among native elites
became evident in court and administrative documents.
These conditions created a situation in which individuals
emphasized political ties based on ethnic affiliation, kin
ties, and local and colonial factional relations. The
Spanish conquest thus added new sources of claims to
status and resources and created new rules of adjudi-
cation.
Summary and conclusion
This paper has examined changes in the role of fac-
tional competition in the central Peruvian sierra during
three periods of differing political circumstances: indig-
enous development, Inka imperial rule, and Spanish
colonial rule. The evidence suggests that the gener-
ation, nature, and resolution of factional conflict
shifted across periods, but that it worked in concert
with hierarchical competition, alliance formation, and
peer polity competition to shape political actions in
each period.
During Wanka II, warfare, and political and physical
shifting of population together produced a situation in
which demographically, environmentally, and politically
well-placed groups could assert domination in the
region. This process was undoubtedly fraught with rises
and falls in the welfare of differing factions, but the shift
toward differentiated society appears to have occurred
rapidly - during five to ten generations.
The rise of the Inka state itself and the succession to
power within it exemplify the factionalism that char-
acterized the Andean sierra during the thirteenth
through sixteenth centuries. The state successfully
reduced local hostilities, but created new sources of
dispute in the process. For a militaristic chiefdom and
then expansionist state, the fractious means of succession
to the Inka throne may have been effective for selecting
leadership. In an empire in which consolidation of
control supplanted conquest, it became a destructive
force. Competition between Atawalpa and Wascar for
the throne precipitated a civil war and the losing Wankas
joined forces with the Spaniards in overthrowing the
Inka rule.
During the early colonial period, the alliances created
in the pursuit of court cases contributed to a grass-roots
affiliation between some Spaniards and native elites. The
testimony by Spaniards on behalf of native claims is
indicative of a relationship of mutual assistance often
lost in the overwhelming circumstances of exploitation.
Factional disputes between native groups thus bonded
the indigenous peoples to the Spanish juridical system
and sometimes to individuals within colonial society.
Limitations on the use of force, initially imposed by the
Inkas, gave weak claimants the ability to demand rights
they could not assert without an imperial system to
which they had redress. This shifted the balance among
aspirants to power, although it did not provide an even
playingfield.Access to the Spanish courts also provided
a new foundation on which indigenous claimants could
base their cases.
 Factionalism and political development in the central Andes
The dynamics of factional relations in the Upper
Mantaro region thus changed significantly with the Inka
and Spanish conquests. Both the nature and resolution
of disputes were restructured in the process, but fac-
tional competition retained a pivotal role in politics, no
matter the ultimate source of power.
A cknowledgments
I thank my colleagues on the Upper Mantaro Archaeo-
logical Research Project, whose collaboration and
sharing of data made this paper possible: Cathy Costin,
Timothy Earle, Melissa Hagstrum, Christine Hastorf,
Marilyn Norconk, Bruce Owen, Glenn Russell, and
Elsie Sandefur. Ronald Bishop characterized the
ceramics and collaborated in their statistical analysis
and publication. Timothy Earle and the volume editors
are thanked for their comments, along with Victor A.
Buchli and Terry Levine who drafted or shared maps.
Funding was provided by the National Science Foun-
dation (BNS-8203723), Brookhaven National Labora-
tory, UCLA, the UCLA Friends of Archaeology, and
Columbia University, whose support I gratefully
acknowledge.
187
Notes
1 It is intriguing to note that none of the regional para-
mounts or immediate subordinates mentioned in num-
erous other contemporaneous documents was
included in this inquiry. Whether this was deliberate
or whether other Toledan documentation that
included the paramounts had been lost is not clear.
2 Detailed discussions of the settlement data presented
here may be found in LeBlanc (1981); Earle et al.
(1987), and D'Altroy (1992).
3 Dunbar (1942) has traced a comparable case within the
Apoayala family, over succession to the position of
saya paramount over the region's southernmost saya,
Ananwanka. Here, two successive paramount lords
were recognized by the Spanish authorities in 1558,
1563, and 1571. The last verification was undertaken by
the same visitador, Jeronimo da Silva, about six months
after his judgment of the case in Hatunxauxa. Over
time, however, a kuraka of questionable legitimacy
succeeded to office and thirty years of litigation ensued.
4 Ultimately (1564), a trip to Spain won some awards for
the son of one of the paramounts, but only to Don Jero-
nimo Guacrapaucar, who had sailed in 1562-3, ostensi-
bly to speak for all (Espinoza 1971:177-86, 388-407).
PART IV

Discussions

16
Factional competition and
historical materialism
GLENN PERUSEK
This chapter aims to situate the present volume's
relationship to historical materialism. These contri-
butions argue that factional competition plays a crucial
role in the social transformation of precolumbian
America. Factions are hierarchical units, which include
elites and masses engaged in a struggle over resources.
This factionalism approach is a complement to two
prevailing approaches to understanding social change in
prehistory, Marxism and ecological functionalism. I will
not deal here with the latter. But the claim that the
factions approach contributes to Marxian theory raises
an important problem. Many Marxisms exist. To which
Marxism does this approach contribute? Much con-
fusion and debate still exists about the nature of his-
torical materialism, about the relationship between
"base" and "superstructure," and particularly about the
role of active human intervention in Marx's theory of
history. Determinist and idealist interpretations of
Marx's historical materialism do not allow much space
for the sophisticated nuances of the factionalism
approach. This essay argues that the factional conflict
approach is consonant with an interpretation of his-
torical materialism which centers on the cumulative
development of the productive forces without neglecting
political struggles. In other words, the factional conflict
approach suggests that historical materialism need not
conceive of analyses based upon economic structure and
human agency as mutually exclusive modes of expla-
nation.
This essay is divided into three parts. The first exam-
ines determinist and idealist versions of historical mater-
ialism. The second identifies an alternative, what could
be called an "activist materialism," an historical mater-
ialism which accepts the centrality of the cumulative
development of the productive forces without neglecting
the role of superstructural elements, active political
intervention by real individual and collective social
actors. It will be shown how the factionalism approach
illuminates particular problems within this activist
materialism. In the third part, I turn to the relationship
between rationality and the factionalism approach.
During the 1980s "rational choice Marxism," with a
focus on strategic interaction of political and social
actors, achieved great popularity in the English-speaking
world. I argue that historical materialism must concern
itself with problems of strategic action and that the
factionalism approach implicitly accepts this concern.
Varieties of historical materialism
This section traces the development of historical mater-
ialism by contrasting the determinist interpretation of
Kautsky and Plekhanov with the "idealist" interpretation
of Althusser and Poulantzas. Historical materialism was
first articulated in connection with mass politics in the
1890s by the theorists of the Second International.
Kautsky and Plekhanov largely reduced historical
materialism to a theory of social change determined by
economic development (see Kautsky 1907; Plekhanov
1940). The forces of production inevitably advanced,
dragging society along with them. Political actors, be
they individuals, parties, or factions, played no indepen-
dent role, were reduced to small status (Kautsky
1907:133-4). Certain passages in Marx's writings, if
taken in isolation, appear to confirm this interpretation
of historical materialism as an economic or technical
determinism. Yet, they exist alongside a constant stress
on the crucial role of active intervention by political
agents in contending classes for determining real, his-
torical outcomes.
Such a role for political agents was missing from
Kautskian materialism. Political agents could not play a
positive role in an inevitable process of historical pro-
gress. Socialists could count on the capitalist system
more or less to self-destruct. A socialist party could do
little to hasten this downfall; indeed any positive actions
threatened to dirty the party's reputation. Instead, the
party's role was to build, patiently, to educate, and to
stand for elections merely to register the inevitable devel-
opment of "socialist consciousness" among the working
class which was every bit as predetermined as economic
development itself. Never would the party have the
opportunity or obligation to step forward to make a
revolution, or to lead the working class in making one.
191
 192 Glenn Perusek
Kautsky's own lack of leadership in the crises of 1914,
1918, and 1923 was consistent with his theoretical posi-
tion (see Kautsky 1964:136).
Stalin's version of historical materialism was even
more highly determinist or mechanical.1 He argued that
the economic base was totally determinate. Ideas reflect
economic reality; consciousness reflects technology;
machines make art and politics (Stalin 1951:10).
In Stalin's scheme, the party leadership had a mono-
poly on theory, which is used to organize the confused
masses in "building the socialist order." In the process of
building socialism, the working class is created. This is a
fundamental reversal from classical Marxism, in which
the working class was the active agent transforming
society by taking control of production and politics.
Marx originally insisted that socialism is the "self-
emancipation of the working class." Here, the party
builds socialism, the masses are a necessarily passive
majority. Because the working class is removed from the
equation, the "socialist order" resolves itself into mere
state ownership and control of production.
After 1956 a strong reaction against Stalinist theory
occurred in the West.2 E. P. Thompson exemplified the
new left tradition which rejected any determining or
conditioning effect of base on superstructure. Although
neo-Stalinists started from very different premises, they
came to similar conclusions. The most important figure
in this tradition was Louis Althusser, and his most
important follower was Nicos Poulantzas. Althusser,
asserting the autonomy of theory, criticized Stalin's
deterministic refusal to grant any efficacy to the super-
structure and Lukacs' conception of Marxian theory as
the conceptual articulation of working-class political
practice. He contended that both of these notions, in
different ways, restrict the role of theory.
Unlike Stalin, Althusser advanced a view of the super-
structure as all powerful or all determining. Whereas in
Stalin's hands historical materialism was reduced to a
"theory of the productive forces," in Althusser's the
notion of any kind of determination between economic
base and political-social-juridical-ideological super-
structure was rejected. For Althusser (1969:113) the
analytical primacy of the economic base had evaporated:
in History ... the superstructures ... are never seen to
step respectfully aside when their work is done or,
when the Time comes, as his pure phenomena, to
scatter before His Majesty the Economy as he strides
along the royal road of the Dialectic. From the first
moment to the last, the lonely hour of the "last
instance" never comes.
For Althusser, multiple practices exist in mutual
independence. He spoke of economic practice, political
practice, ideological practice, and even his own metier,
"theoretical practice," as proceeding within its own
"peculiar time," moving ahead of its own accord
(Althusser 1969:167).
But like Stalin, Althusser argued that "history is a
process without a subject." Relations of production are
abstract elements within a theoretical schema - they are
the real historical subject. People (workers, employers,
politicians, etc.) are mere occupants of abstract cate-
gories, not historical agents in their own right. People do
not make their own history; social relations do.
Poulantzas applied this theory to the state and classes
under capitalism. He rejected (1975) any economic deter-
mination of social classes. Instead, social classes are
determined by a myriad of factors - economic, political
and ideological. Poulantzas saw the "new petit bour-
geois" as central. He criticized those who would lump
the new petit bourgeoisie in with the working class.
Ultimately he defined the new petit bourgeoisie ideo-
logically, on the basis of their ideas about distinctness
from manual labor. The new petit bourgeoisie was a
class because it is partially absorbed into the hegemonic
ideology of capitalism. The political importance of Pou-
lantzas' new petit bourgeoisie theory is that it reduces
the working class to a rump which can only seek cross-
class popular alliances (Wood 1986:42). Poulantzas went
so far as to argue that conceiving of united working-class
action is hopeless and reactionary.
By the late 1970s, Poulantzas (1978) was arguing that
any attempt to dismantle the capitalist state, such as the
Portuguese revolution of 1974-5, constituted a threat to
democracy. A smooth transition to socialism, which did
not break apart the capitalist state, was required. Fac-
tional conflict within the state transformed it into a
terrain for struggle between popular forces (the Com-
munist Party, social democratic parties, the new petit
bourgeoisie, and non-hegemonic factions of capital) and
hegemonic ones (the "monopoly" faction of capital),
making peaceful transition possible.
In Poulantzas' scheme, struggle does not necessarily
or predominantly revolve around class-based issues. It
is, rather, a struggle between politically determined
blocks - the hegemonic and the anti-monopoly. As with
Foucault, power replaces production as the organizing
concept. Such an approach has more to do with post-
structuralism than with any variety of Marxian materia-
lism. Unlike Poulantzas, at least Derrida and Foucault
openly admit that this is so. The alternative suggested by
the present paper is a return to a reinterpreted and

fortified version of historical materialism in its classical
incarnation. It is to such an interpretation we now turn.
Marx's materialism
Marx argued for the fundamental importance of the
economic base. The economic base includes two distinct-
ive elements: the forces of production, tools, equipment,
etc., and the relations of production, the relationships
between and among classes of individuals who are
engaged in production (capitalists and workers, land-
lords and serfs, landowners and slaves). Upon this
economic foundation rises a non-economic "super-
structure." The superstructure includes politics (the
state, and more), ideology, religion, and other non-
economic structures and institutions. The precise
relationship between the economic base and the non-
economic superstructure is a crucial problem. The
famous "Preface to a Contribution to the Critique of
Political Economy," the main source within Marx's own
writings on method available until the 1920s, appears to
argue that a one-way, determining relationship exists
between the economic base and the non-economic super-
structure. As Marx (1969:1, 502) put it in the "Preface,"
The mode of production of material life conditions
the social, political and intellectual life process in
general. It is not the consciousness of men that deter-
mines their being, but, on the contrary, their social
being that determines their consciousness.
Such statements have led Elster (1985), Cohen (1978),
and others to conceive of Marx's theory of history as an
economic or technological determinism. But practically
any relationships between base and superstructure can
be defended as representing Marx's view of history if one
takes isolated quotations from his different works. Marx
also argued, in the same long paragraph, that what
moves history forward is precisely the fact that relations
of production which once were functional for the devel-
opment of particular productive forces have become
fetters on it; this conflict causes social revolution. This
struggle between forces and relations of production does
not remain economic, but rather is fought out on poli-
tical, ideological, philosophical - in short superstructu-
ral - grounds. The transformation from one mode of
production, far from being determined in advance by the
inexorable movement of history, is decided by the
powers of political mobilization within and between
classes. Marx (1969:1, 109) did not think the outcome of
such struggles was a foregone conclusion. On the con-
trary, class struggles could end "either in a revolutionary
Factional competition and historical materialism 193
re-constitution of society . . . , or in the common ruin of
the contending classes."
Several points need to be made. First, Marx defined
two kinds of conflict within the base-superstructure
model. One conflict occurs between forces of production
and relations of production, what we could call "base
conflict." Relations of production can for a long time
foster the advancement of the productive forces within a
given mode of production. But at some point the existing
relations of production come into conflict with, or act as
a fetter upon, productive forces. This occurs because the
ruling classes, as part of the business of ruling, erect a
whole set of superstructural institutions. Some of these
(legal property rights, for example) may be beneficial to
production. But others (say, an overgrown bureaucracy)
might actually act as a drain on economic production.
Along with every superstructural institution is a segment
of the ruling class, a grouping of individuals with vested
interests in maintaining the status quo. This is an impor-
tant material foundation for factional conflict. As
Harman (1986:15) argues:
Those who command the armies, the police and the
priesthoods live off the surplus obtained by exploita-
tion just as much as do the direct exploiters. But they
also develop particular interests of their own: they
want their share of the surplus to be as great as
possible; they want certain sorts of material pro-
duction to take place to suit the particular needs of
their institutions; they want their sort of lifestyle to be
valued more highly than that of those involved in
direct production.
A materially segmented ruling class is a solid basis for
factional conflict within itself. Interested rulers can be
expected to mobilize whatever resources at their dispo-
sal, either to defend their vested interests or, if more
aggressive, to poach on the prerogatives of others
(Eisenstadt 1969:115-55).
In general, in pre-capitalist societies, ruling classes
were interested in preserving the economic status quo.
Thus, they declared new methods of production illegal,
found them immoral, or physically destroyed sites of
such production.3 This signified conflict between poli-
tical and social actors, between an old ruling class (with
its mode of production) and a rising class, with a new
way of producing. This is, in the first instance, economic
conflict. But it is not fought out in economic terms.
"Base conflict" causes massive political and ideological
struggles to break out. These are conflicts in the super-
structure. The outcome of such conflicts is not a fore-
gone conclusion, and these superstructural conflicts will
 194 Glenn Perusek

determine, in the next era, the way that production will but not yet for itself. In the struggle ... this mass
be carried out. The old ruling class may be able to defeat becomes united, and constitutes itself as a class for
the rising class, or forestall its victory, for a very long itself. The interests it defends become class interests.
time. The old ruling class or a portion of it may adopt But the struggle of class against class is a political
many of the methods of the rising class, stealing its struggle. (Marx 1963:173)
thunder. Political and ideological conflicts may result in
impasse, such that social ruin will result. This could lead This is not merely a matter conducted within classes.
to economic retrogression. Or, finally, the new ruling Contending classes - or portions of them - conduct
class may be victorious; their political victory will usher propaganda and agitation within their own class and
in a new era of production on a different basis, a new across class lines for their political and economic inter-
mode of production. ests. Different segments of different classes attempt to
Two things stand out in this account. First, both the impose their view of the politics and the future on other
determinist and voluntarist interpretations of Marx segments. To some extent, all classes will have an articu-
argue that the superstructure is relatively unimportant. lation of political views, and competing visions of poli-
But as Harman (1986:14) has argued, 'Tar from ignoring tics. Within the working class, under capitalism, grada-
the impact of the 'superstructure' on the 'base,' ... Marx tions of opinion exist, organized or unorganized, from
builds his whole account of human history around it." left to right.
Conflict between an old ruling class and a rising class is a Rival classes have different resources for influencing
matter of political mobilization within the classes and other classes. Employers under capitalism have great
the strategic interaction between classes. Marx did not resources to deploy in the political and ideological
posit class solidarity - class solidarity is a contingent struggle, between each other and with other classes. To
feature of real, historical situations. Leading elements look at this from a micro-perspective, in any industry,
within contending classes must organize for their poli- the struggle for unionization of a group of workers can
tical struggles. If leadership is lacking, a rising economic be conceived simultaneously as a struggle within classes
class may never come to power. While Marx argued that and a struggle between them. Individuals in the working
social being determines consciousness in the "Preface," class may attempt to organize workers into a union.
at other points the relationship between conditions and They are attempting to convince fellow workers of a
consciousness is put differently. In The German Ideology particular conception of their interests and of a more or
(1969:1, 13): "circumstances make men just as much as less definite plan of activity to advance their interests.
men make circumstances." And in the "Theses on Feu- They may be resisted by other workers who have a
erbach" (1969:1, 42): "The materialist doctrine [of Feu- different conception of workers' interests and effective
erbach] that men are products of circumstances and strategies. This is, from the perspective of union
upbringing, and that, therefore, changed men are pro- conscious militants, a conflict between advanced and
ducts of other circumstances and changed upbringing, backward workers.
forgets that it is men that change circumstances and that
the educator himself needs educating." Competition divides [workers'] interests. But the
maintenance of wages, this common interest which
Nor did Marx neglect conflicts which do not turn on
they have against their boss, unites them in a common
potential shifts in the mode of production. Even within a
thought of resistance - combination. Thus combin-
single mode of production, a whole range of political
ation always has a double aim, that of stopping com-
outcomes is possible. Within a mode of production,
petition among the workers, so that they can carry on
empires can be created and destroyed, and all sorts of
other superstructural phenomena can be transformed. general competition with the capitalist. (Marx
The point for Marx was that these are not cumulative 1963:172)
changes, as is the progressive development of the pro- Non-union consciousness workers are often under the
ductive forces (see also Lukacs 1971 and Labriola 1918). sway of ideological forces which come from outside of
For Marx, class unity had to be fought for and mobi- the working class: a religious institution, the employers
lized. It was a contingent outcome of practical activity. themselves, or the state, speaking for the employing class
in general. The effectiveness of these "alien" influences -
The combination of capital has created for this mass the quality of the propaganda, the efficiency of its dis-
[of workers] a common situation, common interests. semination - will affect the outcome of a particular
This mass is thus already a class as against capital, organizing drive. Thus, the struggle for unionization can
 Factional competition and historical materialism 195

be seen as a conflict between classes, but also as a conflict unilateral defection (become 'free riders') then ulti-
within the working class. mately no one will enjoy the benefits of the collective
Of course, not all interest conflict is class-based con- good (all will fall to mutual defection). Most problems of
flict. Conflict between segments of industrial capital, or collective action, certainly the ones that are most often
sectional struggle over the division of resources, say, on discussed in social scientific literature, bear essentially
a geographical basis, may be quite strong. But this is these features.5 At bottom, collective action theory
conflict within, based upon a single mode of production. argues that this is the structure of many of the problems
Conflict which organizes whole classes in epoch- which face political, economic, and social actors. Olson
changing struggle - the struggle of the rising European argued that selective incentives - which are available
bourgeoisie against the old regimes, for example - laid only to contributors to collective goods - could mitigate
the political foundation for the organization of this logic of collective action. Others have argued that
economic life on a new basis. Any sophisticated entrepreneurship (willingness on the part of some minor-
treatment of real historical circumstances from a ity to bear the costs of collective action) or extra-rational
Marxian perspective (for instance, Trotsky's writing on behavior could also mitigate the general conclusion that
the Russian revolution of 1917 or on the rise of fascism large groups will fail to provide collective goods. 6
in Germany) must take into account both the political Several criticisms have been leveled at collective
conflicts within classes and the potential for rivalry or action theory. Individuals often are motivated by some-
unity between classes. thing other than rational self-interest. Downs (1975)
argued that non-voting could be explained in collective
action terms (where the benefit was the differential value
Rationality, factions, and paradoxes of collective action of one candidate's winning over another's, and the cost
Since the late 1970s, an original Marxian theory has been was the effort required to go to the polls). Because
developed in the English-speaking world. Analytical individuals did not greatly value one candidate over
Marxism is a broad approach distinguished by the use of another, and because they realized their own vote mat-
methods of analytical philosophy and "positivist" social tered so little, the benefits of voting were outweighed by
science (Callinicos 1989:1-5). Perhaps the most impor- the cost of going to the polls. But if this accounts for
tant trend within Analytical Marxism is "rational choice non-voting by a large portion of the electorate, how can
Marxism," which explicitly fuses axioms derived from the persistent voting of at least a sizeable minority of the
neoclassical economics and a concern with collective electorate be explained? The sensible response is that
action problems to traditional Marxian subject matter. even if the logic does not operate universally, it may shed
Because rational choice Marxism is especially concerned light on the problem of non-voting. Similarly, no union
with strategic problems of organization, and because of organizer, can afford to ignore the fact that the logic of
its influence on contemporary Marxists, it deserves to be collective action exists in open shop situations; indeed,
examined here. One of the main benefits of this new the fact that unions fight so vociferously for the union
school of Marxism is that it focuses precisely on strategic shop is an indication of the vitality of the logic. This
problems in social change.4 means not that union organizations will never be formed
The essential logic of collective action can be summa- in open shop settings, but that it will be harder without
rized as follows. Individual actions are motivated by some selective incentives. Likewise, advocates of easing
self-interest. Rational individuals are efficient in secur- voter registration understand that reducing the costs (in
ing their self-interest. When a group of individuals can time, effort, advance planning) of voting will increase
act in concert to achieve some common good, and can turnout. They need not consider all potential voters to be
prevent those who do not contribute to its achievement affected by an individual cost-benefit calculation to
from enjoying the good, no collective action problem think that the logic plays an important role in non-
exists. The good is called "private" because non-contri- voting.
butors can be prevented from enjoying it. However, Others have criticized collective action theory for
when the good a group is seeking is a "collective good," focusing too much attention on individual choices and
by definition the group cannot exclude non-contributors not enough on the historical conditions in which choices
from enjoyment of the good. The paradox of collective take place. This is a valid criticism. To understand why
action is that if enough individuals who are currently collective action occurs in specific situations, the context
engaged in mutual cooperation (paying dues and enjoy- of ethnic or political solidarity within groups must be
ing the benefits of a union contract) decide to choose taken into account. Unfortunately, much work done
 196 Glenn Perusek
within this approach is devoid of such historical sense.
Both theflowof history and sensitivity to the singularity
of individual cases are missing in such work (see Hardin
1987; Levi 1988).
When considering factional conflict, collective action
theory is useful in the first instance for illuminating the
problems which must be overcome if an oppositional
faction is to arise in the first place. Considerable costs
are involved in declaring oneself an opponent of a
powerful, established ruler. Even a wide layer of
potential oppositionists, all of whom would favor the
organization of a factional opposition, may still prefer
that some other individual take the first step. This helps
to account for the inertia in power of "illegitimate"
authoritarian rulers. A higher level of factional conflict
may be associated with conditions where joining or
changing factions is relatively easy, as Spencer (chapter
3) argues in the case of the Mekranoti. The Mekranoti
appear to be a case where joining factions is cost free. A
relatively free "political market" leads individual fac-
tional leaders to exchange gifts for factional allegiance,
and they must maintain the satisfaction of their factional
membership or lose members to more enterprising rivals.
By contrast, Pollard, Brumfiel, and Zantwijk (chap-
ters 7, 8, 9) all explore cases where rulers used common
ethnic characteristics to define factional alignments.
Common histories about ethnic groupings serve to legiti-
mize ongoing social relationships, or to fragment a
ruler's authority. The conception of ethnicity may or
may not have had basis in genuinely common and dis-
tinctive practices. This suggests that factions are not
merely competitive bodies based upon calculations of
self-interest by individual leaders and followers. As
Nicholas (1966:56) has argued, the bases for factionalism
could be many.
Some cliques are made up of a strong family, its
affines, and its servants; a small, close-knit caste
group, or a group of young men who had been
schoolmates, might also compose a clique. This form
of factional leadership, which is adapted to overcom-
ing the resource weakness of individual leaders,
requires strong consensus in the political objectives of
the leading clique.
Basing factional unity upon ethnic identity may be
"extra-rational," but such bonds are no weaker as a
result. If, as Bailey (1977:21-36) has suggested, factional
activity is widely regarded as narrowly self-interested
and "cancerous" to the wider political or social unit,
basing it upon ethnic claims may be all the more neces-
sary. Indeed, an important general insight about group
action in the contemporary world is that collective
action problems are often solved by means of such cul-
tural markers, precisely because they allow political
actors to bypass the process of calculating self-interest
and the accusation of anti-social intent.
Redmond (Chapter 4) demonstrates the importance of
the simple logic of free riding in explaining the differen-
tial capacity of leaders to wage war. In contrasting the
war-making ability of tribes and chiefdoms, she notes
that among tribes participation in raids was not man-
datory. Raiders would regularly claim to suffer ailments
to be excused from battle. Without formal title or
organizational means, tribal leaders could not compel
obedience. But warring chiefs, who could compel troops
to fight, had no such problem with free riders among
their followers.
Hirschman (1970) has argued that, broadly, indi-
viduals have three types of response to organizational
decline - "exit," the market solution of transferring
allegiance, "voice," the political solution of protest
within the organization, and "loyalty," or sufferance
with unsatisfactory conditions. The literature on fac-
tionalism, including several chapters of the present
volume, has attempted to discern the conditions under
which factionalism will occur. Spencer (chapter 3) con-
tends that an environment of endemic war-making
increased forces which tended to centralize political life.
Factional leaders' power was increased by the exigencies
of war-making. Kowalewski (chapter 12) suggests that
the absence of opportunities for territorial or political
gain through warmaking, and the persistence of a stable
distribution of economic resources diminished the
opportunities for factionalism in Oaxaca. D'Altroy's
(chapter 15) periodization admits factionalism both
before and after the existence of a strong, imperial state
in the central Andes.
The wider literature on factionalism suggests that
organizational or economic decline is a strong incentive
to factional action. In contemporary American unions,
factionalism appears endemic precisely when workers
are forced to accept wage cuts and declining working
conditions. While leaders can deliver real wage increases
and relatively stable working conditions, workers are
not encouraged to turn to rival leaders. But declining
conditions appear to give rise to factional conflict.
Furthermore, crisis conditions created by war probably
should not be seen as having a simple effect on factional
conflict. Warmaking often spurs a centralizing impulse,
allowing state leaders to circumvent normal procedures
and accumulate more power in their own hands. But
long drawn-out war-created crises, particularly those
 Factional competition and historical materialism 197

which end in military defeat, can unleash centrifugal argues convincingly against. The whole movement in
pressures in even the most centralized state. For political anthropology to assert the importance of indi-
instance, consider the impact of World War One on vidual choice, strategy, and factional competition is part
German society. The initial crisis led to centralization of a wider intellectual shift away from the determining
and an increased power of the state and military leaders, role of social structure and explaining discrete social
as oppositional elements were subordinated within the phenomena in terms of function in the wider social
burgfrieden ("fortress peace"). But by 1918, the hard- system.7
ships of war - especially when it became clear that defeat
was in the offing - led to a revolutionary challenge which
swept away the Kaiser and ushered in the Weimar Conclusions
Republic. It is difficult to see how the study of political actors'
Collective action theory shifts the focus of analysis strategic problems, emphasized in this volume, could fall
away from social structures and the functions of social within the compass of either the determinist or Althuss-
phenomena for larger social systems, and toward the erian world views. In a determinist interpretation of
intentions of political agents acting within constraints historical materialism, active political intervention could
that social structures and the choices of other agents not alter the inexorable forward march of the productive
place upon them. For instance, according to Hicks forces. Somewhat ironically, Althusser's conception of
(Chapter 10), the dominant Aztec strategy was to find "history as a process without a subject" also renders the
allies among local elites, thus splitting and weakening political choices of strategic actors superfluous. The
local opposition to imperial control. Rather than second part of this essay outlined an interpretation of
viewing imperial expansion as inexorable or as a system- historical materialism which accepts the centrality of the
serving mechanism, Hicks focuses on the strategic cumulative development of the productive forces
choices made by actors with differential powers, oppor- without neglecting the role of superstructural elements,
tunities, and constraints. He shows how political out- specifically, active political intervention. The study of
comes were contingent on the choices made by these factional conflict is most consonant with this activist
differentially endowed actors. Even powerful imperial interpretation of historical materialism.
rulers were constrained actors in these situations: When, In the third part, I argue that the essential logic of
in the case of Chalco, the empire consistently found no collective action theory, which is crucial to the recent
local allies, they were forced to wage bitter and costly development of Analytical Marxism, is useful for com-
war. Similarly, Clark and Blake (Chapter 2) argue that prehending factional conflict. Additionally, the funda-
social inequality develops as an unintended consequence mental insights of collective action theory can probably
of factional aggrandizing activity. This is consonant with best be deployed in the analysis of real choice situations.
the non-teleological orientation of collective action Therefore, historical case studies such as those in the
theory's focus on strategic interaction. present volume are probably the best way to approach
Determinist materialism explicitly neglects the role of strategic problems. If the activist interpretation of his-
strategy and the interaction between individuals and torical materialism, discussed in part two, which lays
factions. But a materialism that admits the centrality of stress on the political and organizational problems and
human agency, as I have argued for in this paper, must opportunities which arise from economic conflict, is
necessarily be sensitive to collective action problems. plausible, then the strategic problems (that is, factional
Indeed, Marx's own account of the periodic crises of conflict) illuminated by collective action theory are of
capitalist economies hinges on capitalists' collective great importance to historical materialism.
action problem, the "anarchy of production." If a group The factional conflict approach has important impli-
of firms in a given industry could voluntarily and per- cations for our interpretation of historical materialism.
manently restrict the expansion of productive capacity, The activist interpretation of historical materialism
regulating prices and output, crises of overproduction argues that when the productive forces are impeded by
need never occur. But they find it difficult to overcome relations of production which originally arose on the
their collective action problem, for each individual firm basis of them, questions of politics become all impor-
has incentives to defect from such oligopolistic arrange- tant. If the old regime has sufficient political acumen, it
ments (Ryan 1987). Such attention might help overcome can organize to forestall the onslaught of the rising class.
the tendency in historical materialist studies toward But if the rising class solves its collective action prob-
functionalist explanations, which Elster (1979:28-35) lems, it may be able to overcome the old class and usher
 198 Glenn Perusek
in a new social era, based on a new mode of production.
Economic development presents certain opportunities to
class-based political actors. The outcome of such crises is
never determined in advanced. Rather, it is entirely con-
tingent on the political action - mobilization and organi-
zation - of the rival classes.
Interestingly, a striking parallel exists between
Marxist thought and western anthropology in their
movement from determinism to a focus on human
agency. In the heyday of the second international,
Marxism was dominated by determinism; in Althusser,
the determining role of economic structure was aban-
doned. Like determinist Marxism, western anthropo-
logy, whether in its French structuralist or English
structural-functionalist incarnation, also downplayed
the active process of human agency in creating social
forms. In structural-functionalism, societies were con-
ceived as systems and particular features were explained
in terms of their contribution, the function they fulfilled,
in maintaining the system as a whole. Western anthropo-
logy, by the 1960s and 1970s, shifted its focus to agency -
conflictual process, the role of strategy, factions, and
struggle now overshadowed structure and function. Cur-
rently popular trends of social thought, from rational
choice theory to post-structuralism, tend to emphasize
human agency in preference to economic structure, just
as Kautsky and Radcliffe-Brown so emphasized struc-
ture as to strangle human agency. The present volume
suggests we need not conceive of agency and structure as
elements of such mutually exclusive modes of expla-
nation.
Notes
1 This account draws substantially from Harris
(1971:152-66).
2 The discussion of Althusser and Poulantzas draws
heavily on Callinicos (1982:53-80) and Wood
(1986:25^6).
3 Consider, for example, the ancient Chinese empires,
replete with conflict between rulers and the rising class
of merchants. As early as the time of the Warring
States, rulers discredited the occupations of artisan
and shopkeeper (Loewe 1966:208-9). The Ch'in
dynasty deported shopkeepers and proscribed com-
mercial activities in the name of social stability (Granet
1958:103). Han emperors banned private iron and
salt works, confiscated merchant property and estab-
lished state monopolies. Merchants were forbidden to
invest in landed property or from becoming state
officials (Granet 1958:114, 408, 415). For centuries the
Confucian imperial bureaucracies discouraged
Chinese involvement in foreign trade; it remained in
foreign hands until the thirteenth century. Given that
imperial China witnessed important developments in
the forces of production, far in advance of Europe, it is
a paradigm case of the productive forces being fettered
by existing political and social arrangements.
4 Given these developments, materialist anthropologists
probably should not allow Service (1975) to monopolize
discussion of strategies of decision making in the study
of state formation. Analytical Marxism is centrally con-
cerned with the problems of decision making under con-
straints - this is the problem of political mobilization.
5 But see Taylor (1987) for the important but often
neglected discussion of collective action problems
with other fundamental structures.
6 The classic work is Olson (1965).
7 Bailey (1977:34n): "To have an interest in factions
was, at one time, itself a factional posture. Those who
disdained to use the word 'faction' were the leaders of
structural-functional anthropology... Obviously fac-
tional behavior was written off as unstructured behav-
ior, unpredictable and irregular, and therefore beyond
the scope of structural analysis. In carving out the
statuesque form of structure, factions (like individuals
and choice) fell among the material discarded in order
to reveal a form."

17
Conclusions: moietal
opposition, segmentation,
and factionalism in New
World political arenas
JOHN W. FOX
In aboriginal American societies, factions competed for
power, prestige, authority, and material benefits. A
counterpositioning of structurally similar corporate
groups, often in pairs, generated factional competition.
This collection provides case studies on factional com-
petition in a variety of environmental settings and on the
methods for discerning factionalism across a gamut of
social fields.
Theoretical approaches to conflict and change
A steady theoretical stream has attempted to explain
exogenous cause and culture effect (adaptation) in the
evolution of simple to more complex societies. In the
positivist tradition, with Newton drawing analogy to the
clock, a principal machine of his day, eighteenth- and
nineteenth-century social theoreticians sought the forces
that set the three-fold (savagery, barbarism, civilization)
"evolutionary clock" in motion (e.g. climate for Montes-
quieu). During the 1920s to 1950s, a "dynamist
approach" focused on the basic "tensions inherent in
any society" (Balandier 1970:17-18), but conflict was
said to improve social functioning. Newton's smoothly
running clock was transposed synchronically; groups
strove teleologically to maintain the well-oiled social
machine for the greater social good.
For cultural ecologists, environmental stress was the
catalyst to evolution. In essence, Newton's smoothly
functioning system was recast as trophic exchanges and
competition. But "systems models cannot explain
chronic problems generated by the very operation of the
system as constituted, such as civil wars, succession
disputes or tax evasion" (Gailey and Patterson 1987:5)
other than as Malthusian competition for material
resources-i.e., biological reductionism. Darwinian-like
competition removed the dysfunctional social parts
while the evolutionary clock ticked uniformly upward in
the spiral of cultural evolution. According to such lin-
earity, environmental resources as exploited by tech-
nology determined amounts of food, which in turn deter-
mined community size, whose economy shaped political
organization and ideology (de Montmollin 1989:8-9).
In contrast, the present volume examines a political
dialectic, arguing that ideology and social organization
often change as a result of political action. Rather than
being prime movers, technology, land, and labor are
simply factors of production manipulated to promote
factional interests. While native American technology
(e.g., obsidian tools, raised-field agriculture) was essen-
tially unchanged from the Formative, its use by social
labor differed within different political contexts. As
Clark and Blake (Chapter 2) argue, technoeconomic
development and demographic change are consequences
of factional competition. People are a major production
factor, and political strategies involve manipulating
social relations to increase benefits.
The Quiche example (Chapter 14) shows that political
strife can explain transformed social relations where
environmental variables fail. Urbanism resulted from
intrusive lineages who nucleated for protection, rather
than to exploit ecological symbiosis or arid soils with
irrigation, or exchange valuable natural resources.
External pressure and internal factional manipulation
gave form and direction to the Quiche "coalition."
Because factionalism pervades all groups, from house-
holds to social classes, we focus upon incompatibilities,
tensions, and contradictions within and between social
clusters. Competition and conflict occur at social bound-
aries, for instance between lineages within clans or moie-
ties. In this view, states comprise pyramidally nested
social segments cross-cut by innumerable factions. The
double-edged phenomena of internal personal goals and
external exigencies shape factions and their behavior.
Overall, two directions of dialectical transformation
are evident. First, competitive strife among social equiv-
alents in a kinship mode of production (Wolf 1982)
results in lateral social movement and simple quantita-
tive change. For example, segmental kinship groups
bonded or broke apart as separate building blocks with
options to relocate. Second, struggle among peoples of
contrasting social status (classes) resulted in qualitative
changes of organic solidarity (e.g., Zhao 1986, 1989).
For example, underclasses assumed new tasks in pro-
duction and eventually formed new ethnic identities in a
199
 200 John W. Fox
tributary mode of production. Factions occurred within
the same social strata. For example, families of elite
Aztec or Inka vied for positions of authority within
the capital (Zantwijk, chapter 9; D'Altroy, chapter 15).
Factions also recruited across social strata. Patron-
clientage groupings occurred in provincial communities
allying Aztec or Quiche patrons with local constituents
(Brumfiel, chapter 8; Hicks, chapter 10; Fox, chapter
14).
Endogenous processes within social arenas resulted in
discontinuous and often non-progressive change. For
example, rebellion was a recurrent process for segmen-
tary states in the New World and Africa (Gluckman
1956). Implicit uniform change gives way to the irregula-
rities of punctated evolution and even devolution (Fox
1987:259). For example, the Postclassic Mayan states
were far smaller than their Classic counterparts. But like
quantum mechanics, with a multitude of seemingly
random interactions of particles and waves in specified
fields with uncertain outcomes, factional competition
results in a myriad of possible evolutionary outcomes,
each predictable to only a minor degree.
The propelling force for change is competing groups,
rationally maximizing "utility," whether as direct profits
or as increased prestige which can then be parlayed into
economic advantage (Schneider 1974, Cohen 1976:22).
Symbolic systems of thought both channel political
actions and are transformed by political action. Even
though rules may stipulate access to authority and
strategic resources, brokers incessantly circumvent the
established rules through actions of personal power and
by so doing create new social formations and new rules.
Specific political actions transform corporate identities
and mythic charters. As a consequence, there is constant
discord between the somewhat necessarily ambiguous
systems of ideas (the ideal model) and the perpetual real
political contestations within and between corporate
bodies and factions.
Social charters and symbols.
People uniting to advance special interests require insig-
nia and distinctive practices to distinguish themselves
from their rivals and to suggest a shared heritage. Myth
furnishes a charter and explains inequalities in power.
For example, Mesoamerican myth paired brothers who
allied against common foes (e.g., Junajpu and Xbalan-
que of the Maya) or who contested one another for the
spoils of conquest (e.g., Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca).
Such bipolarity bespeaks day-to-day factionalism, ideo-
logically linked to the calendar. Acquiring the identity of
the sun and the concomitant right to manipulate rela-
tions within the body politic pervaded Mesoamerican
mythology.
The Classic-Postclassic transition saw peoples from
collapsed polities migrate and coalesce with indigenes to
form new ethnic bodies. The Codex Zouche-Nuttall
defines relations between new factions that emerged
from the collapse of Classic polities in the Mixteca Alta
(Byland and Pohl, chapter 10). In central Mexico, the
feud between the peaceful Quetzalcoatl and the warlike
Tezcatlipoca reflects deeply seated schism, followed by
political collapse and refigured polities in new localities.
Of dual authority, one figure (Quetzalcoatl) furnished
authority based on genealogy; the other (Tezcatlipoca)
embodied the authority of warriors (of indigenous
descent?). Zantwijk (chapter 9) argues that the Aztecs
maintained bipartite factionalism with the warrior Huit-
zilopochtli pitted against those under Tlaloc who per-
sisted in the "Toltec" lifeways. Clearly, claims to a
Classic ancien regime were a tactic for strengthening
positions to manipulate subjects and their production.
The Toltec connection, whether mythic or legendary,
became "grounds for material self-interest" (see Worsley
1984:240).
For the Postclassic Maya, ethnohistory begins with
the appearance of Quetzalcoatl (Kukulcan), which pro-
vided a justification for inequality between invading
Putun and local Maya. In mythology and politics, this
Feathered Serpent transformed from Venus to the sun
(Nacxit) both in the Yucatan and in the Quichean high-
lands (Jakawitz/Gakawitz [Venus] to K'ucumatz [Sun]).
K'ucumatz was clearly a Quetzalcoatl reincarnate; both
relied upon airborne flight to vanquish adversaries, and
both revenged a slain father. Asserting supernatural
power in divine kingship allowed one lineage to further
its ambitions over rivals.
Political groups rechartered ethnic and mythological
identities as power was acquired or lost. While polities
discussed in this volume endured four to thirty gener-
ations, ethnic groups continually merged or were absor-
bed and redefined. Pollard (chapter 7) for the Tarascans,
Brumfiel (chapter 8) for the Otomi, and Byland and Pohl
(chapter 10) for the Mixtec and Zapotec demonstrate the
fluidity of ethnicity. After subjugation by the Aztecs, the
Otomi wore distinctive labrets less and opted for Aztec
adornment. When marrying, Mixtec and Zapotec
nuptials would wear half the face paint of the other
group. Zantwijk (chapter 9) explains that among the
Aztecs corporate membership and ethnic identity could
be claimed through either paternal or maternal links,
depending upon the potential advantages of each. Cer-

tainly ethnic malleability allowed access to strategic
positions within unitary states.
Within the segmentary Quiche state, conquered
peoples were recruited to become ethnic Quiche (e.g., the
Nijaib). Outsiders (Cotuja) were also incorporated
according to the symbolism of the calendar. Alignment
to celestial bodies justified degrees of privilege from
inter-lineage maneuvers.
The ethnohistories codified social status in "tribal"
histories that commenced with migration from a pri-
mordial homeland guided by a patron deity. Principal
enemies of allied subgroups were listed and differential
access to power was sanctioned by those who became
guardians of tradition (Balandier 1970:34).
Factionalism in archaeology and ethnohistory
The ethnography of factionalism discussed by Brumfiel
(chapter 1) stresses the informal linkages between power
brokers and their clients to gain advantages over equi-
poised "clientage" groups, that is, competition in
zero-sum settings where leader/followers ally to enhance
mutual self-interests. However, the basis for identifying
the ever-fluctuating factional bond in archaeology is
barely developed.
Fortunately, ethnohistory adds events of "official
strife" back to the AD 900s generally, and in Maya
hieroglyphics to AD 200. Accordingly, groups and
leaders are named, and social exchange (marriages, wars,
alliances, patron-client bonding, commercial trans-
actions, and tribute payments) gains illumination.
Therefore, ethnohistory may "bridge" conflict theory
and inert archaeological/environmental residue. And
ethnographic analogy provides a lens as to how factions
generate tensions.
Writing and power correlate; nonstates lack formal
history. In segmentary states, like those of the Maya, the
almost exclusive proprietors of historical knowledge
were the one or two highest ranked lineages. Therefore,
ethnohistory was the prerogative of power brokers
whose written discourse concerned dealings with other
elites in coups, conquests, and rituals of alliance. Rarely
are clients in subordinate positions named. Also omitted
are defeats, and endemic intrigue, and the usurping of
power and authority. The customary behind-the-scenes
intrigue and manipulation by power brokers and their
constituents usually escaped transcription.
But factionalism is inherently spatial. The geometry of
power relations is borne out in arrangements of
monumental architecture and in proximity to key
natural resources. Clark and Blake (chapter 2), Spencer
Conclusions 201
(chapter 3), Anderson (chapter 6), and Kowalewski
(chapter 11) discuss how factional competition incorpo-
rates specific topography to gain access to resources.
Within sites and regions, the centrality and size of build-
ings is often proportionate to the power exercised. For
example, as a Quiche lineage increased its power, it
increased its centrality of location.
From settlement pattern alone, a basic bipolarity
(moiety structure?) is discerned at many Mesoamerican
sites, across three millennia. Clearly, dichotomous fac-
tionalism underpinned transformative movement in
Mesoamerican civilization. Thus, Preclassic Olmec La
Venta reveals two plazas north of a central circular
pyramid (Heizer, Graham, and Napton 1968), perhaps
representing kinship groups that once vied for control.
Similarly, at Cuicuilco, a wide circular temple bifurcates
two circular residential clusters, possible descent groups
(Marquina 1964).
During the Classic period, the ritual centers of Uxmal
and Copan were bipartitioned into a lower northern
plaza and a southern elevated elite complex through a
low-lying open-ended ballcourt. The ball game
expressed competition and alliance between antagonists/
protagonists who were grouped as moieties of the day
and of the night. The ethnohistoric record suggests that
the elevation differences refer to political "niches"
achieved by each "moiety"; the higher groups possessed
ritual power and the lower groups military might (see
Balandier 1970:81).
Similarly, pairs of temples at Teotihuacan, Tula, and
Tenochtitlan reflected binary groups in highland Mexico
(see Zantwijk, chapter 9), seemingly as dual authority
between conquerors and indigenes (see Fox 1981:331^4).
Through the millennia, then, as centers experienced
administrative breakdowns, and the meaning of
authority was reformulated, the size and centrality of the
temples and ballcourts steadily transformed, reflecting
new attempts at channeling factional competition.
The remainder of this chapter focuses upon the social
transformations wrought by factional competition,
framed spatially. It follows the volume format, examin-
ing factional struggle with various outcomes, contingent
upon the size, complexity, and specific interactions: (1)
allegiance to war leaders, then linkage within multiple
village networks; (2) at times crystallizing into hereditary
ranking; (3) accompanied by pervasive inter- and intra-
chiefdom conflict; (4) with segments that fissioned to
new territories (e.g., Mississippian peoples); and (5)
organizational shifts to ranking in segmentary (Maya)
states and stratification in unitary states (e.g., the Aztecs
and Inka). While coverage spans Mississippian peoples
 202 John W. Fox
from the north and Andean peoples to the south,
Mesoamerica emerges as a geographical and methodolo-
gical focus.1
Transactional analysis - networking, warfare, and
hereditary leadership
The first section of this volume (chapters 2-6) traces
transformations of egalitarian and incipiently ranked
groups. Competition among equipoised groups with
undifferentiated kinship-based production units saw
war leaders formulating patron-client linkages. Threats
from opposing villages necessitated group mobilization,
and strategic action by individual self-aggrandizers or
big men established personal constituencies. Village
war leaders attempted to reproduce leadership among
their offspring - to pass on privileges they had achieved
- usually without success beyond one or two gener-
ations.
For the Circum-Caribbean, where raiding was
endemic, Clark and Blake (chapter 2) and Redmond
(chapter 4) propose how local war leaders became
regional chieftains. They apply transactional analysis to
the archaeological record, construing personal inter-
action as contests for enhancing power through struggle,
scheming, and temporary alliance. Arenas comprised
face-to-face interactions within villages and regional net-
works. Leadership was based upon the prestige of per-
sonal achievement in fighting and leading raids and the
distribution of booty from raids, compelling clients'
loyalty. Thus, bellicose external pressures preceded
social/material exchange that cemented clients to
patrons in mutual self-interest. Attempts were made to
perpetuate leadership to offspring by transferring booty
from raids, such as trophy heads, women, weapons, and
ornaments to coming-of-age sons to enable them to
recruit a following. However, prestige was usually dissi-
pated with loss-of-face in unsuccessful raids.
As contact with outsiders increased, the big-man
figured as a broker between his own village and other
villages. On the regional level, a village big-man offered
military assistance, prestige goods, and marriage part-
ners to his counterparts within region-wide networks.
The big-man created relations of reciprocity in an ever-
fluctuating web of cross-linkages. A big-man operated
on a regional level beyond the leveling sanctions of his
own village, where more ambiguous norms were easier
to manipulate. Applying this model, Clark and Blake
(chapter 2) chart the spread of maize cultivation and
ceramics along region-to-region networks during the
rapid transition (c. 2000-1500 BC) from late Archaic
egalitarian villages to Formative chiefdoms in coastal
Mesoamerica.
In more complex fields of interaction, the chiefdom
ossified a multiple village network into a single polity. In
this step-by-step transformation, Redmond (chapter 4)
theorizes that military aggression intensified into a year-
round activity for acquiring land, prestige goods, and
war captives. External threats reinforced status, and
authority crystallized with special privileges to estates,
the labor of kin and non-kin, and luxury goods from
afar. The gift-giving of the village big-man became redis-
tribution where different kin units transferred produce
to the chief and his retainers.
That the precocious Olmec chiefdom took form
through raiding is supported by purposely decapitated
statues at the earliest Olmec center, San Lorenzo. There
(1) raiding insurgents may have severed the stone heads
of ancestors or deities apparently as trophies; or (2) the
local population released supernatural power through
ritualistic severing of heads (Grove 1981), recalling the
political decapitation of Junajpu when the Ajaw Quiche
lost power to the Cawek (chapter 14). In any event, the
enormous carved heads, presumably of chiefs, personi-
fied institutionalized, dynastic power.
Helms (chapter 8) reconstructs from ethnohistory how
links between chiefs and clients were forged in the Pana-
manian isthmus at European contact. There, competing
paramount chiefs (quevis) were supported by their noble
relatives (sacos), chiefs subordinated through military
force, and honored warriors of commoner status
icabras). Chiefs controlled trade routes to acquire for
distribution rare, mystical, or awe-inspiring objects from
great distances, and further obliged loyalty by allowing
supporters access to favored hunting and fishing terri-
tories. In summary, competition for high position verti-
calized relations, with the chief extracting the labor of
kinship groups and distributing precious items and per-
quisites to his supporters.
In a parallel case, Anderson (chapter 6) shows that
early Mississippian chiefs maintained their positions
with scarce goods acquired from networks crisscrossing
the entire Eastern Woodlands of North America. The
French in the eighteenth century chronicled a social rank
rotation between nobles and commoners. Newly ele-
vated nobles supported their positions by redistributing
luxury items. However, as competition intensified, and
clients were permanently subordinated, rival factions
fissioned to new localities. In short, Helms and Ander-
son argue that internecine competition necessitated
power symbols and lucrative perquisites to improve
position and not the reverse, as implied in the "trade"

literature. Spurred by intra-community competition,
social interchange preceded economic exchange, as
emphasized by Clark and Blake, and Redmond.
Tensions and transformations within segmentary and
unitary states
Close kin of formal leaders embued with ascribed status
held together power cores in both segmentary and
unitary states. However, the core often bifurcated; two
factions asserted privilege premised on genealogy to dis-
tinguish themselves from out-groups (see Salisbury and
Silverman 1977:8-9). The Mayan, Tarascan, Aztec, and
Inka states graduated successively outwards from the
royal cores through the less powerful provinces. Specific
tactics for garnering power, known from ethnohistory,
established inequality based on seniority and descent
from the founding ancestor, on controlling productive
lands, and on exploiting the labor of subordinated
peoples channeled into tributary agricultural and craft
production and military service. However, qualitative
differences in size and continua of stratification warrant
a distinction between less complex segmentary states and
more complex unity states.
In segmentary states, rivals were more autonomous
economically and politically. Coalition building, gift
giving, and rituals of alliance, like feasts, figured as
prominent strategies for enhancing the standing of one's
faction. Although slightly smaller in size, provincial
seats often mirrored socially and architecturally the
single capital at the political, geographical, and cosmic
center of the state. At Utatlan, for example, the Cawek
were able to use cosmic symbolism to strengthen alli-
ances with the thirteen calendric peoples of the colonies.
The conquering lineages fissioned and settled among
outlying folk who supplied tribute, fidelity, and military
service. Kinship, whether real or fictive, was the basis for
rank and production. The intrusive elite furnished
correct pedigree and the autochthons, having intermar-
ried with the intruders, eventually claimed the "noble"
genealogy of the founding Feathered Serpent. Paradox-
ically, egalitarian ideologies prevailed. Competition
among rival kin groups resulted in centrifugal segmen-
tation and fission, rebellion and fusion (intermarriage).
Since the hierarchy produced little more than "cult"
information for alliance building, even the forced link-
ages were prone to rupture.
The Maya, as analyzed by Pohl and Pohl (chapter 13),
afford a particularly long developmental history of seg-
mentary political formations during two millennia. Cer-
tainly the Venus and sun masks on Late Preclassic
Conclusions 203
temples attest to power and alliance intertwined with
the calendars. During the ensuing Early Classic,
warfare intensified from raiding to pitched battles
between neighboring city-states only 40 km apart (e.g.,
Tikal/Uaxactun, Calakmul/El Mirador). Accordingly,
Calakmul was vacated during various episodes of the
Early Classic period, while the population of a tempo-
rarily defeated Tikal may have been forced out. By the
Late Classic, the tributary mode of production had
subverted the redistributive economy. Continuous com-
petitive spirals resulted in the growth of the elite among
rival polities. Evidently, in each state "vertical" fac-
tions linked urban elites with rural supporters, who
shored up the hierarchy under stress. The peripheral
groups became empowered and "married up," thereby
also claiming within a generation or two prerogatives
based on genealogy. The Tuldns confederated city-
states and rotated authority, so that none rose to ulti-
mate power.
As less enfranchised groups grappled for power and
privilege, thematic content on the stelae shifted from the
genealogies of god-kings to gladiatorial combat and
capture. Prestige focused on achieved warrior qualities
rather than on ascribed genealogy. And when neighbors
were seized, ancestral lineage symbols were desecrated,
recalling decapitation of ancestral Olmec statuary.
Newly constructed twin radical-pyramids at the edge of
Tikal bespeak realignment of newly emerged political
groups based on the calendar (Becker 1983). Agriculture
intensified, and emphasis on starchy staples increased
nutritional deficiencies; the economy degraded the
environment.
By the Terminal Classic, provincials seized power;
some 40 percent of the stelae were erected in small
outlying settlements. However, all succumbed to sudden
organizational failure and concomitant demographic
catastrophe. Within this power vacuum of the collapsed
peer polities system (Tainter 1988:202), only scattered
lineages migrated to the Yucatan and to the Guatemalan
highlands. The Maya demonstrate that unitary states do
not evolve from unremitting population growth and
heightened competition (cf. Sanders and Price 1968).
The Quiche were refugees of the Tuldns who forged
triadic alliances, cemented by wife exchange (chapter
14). At first, Utatlan had few rivals, so the political field
was notably diminished and investment in hierarchy was
less necessary (Tainter 1988:117). Later, pressed into
tighter confederation, the Cawek lineage formalized its
ranking on a calendrical basis so that Utatlan became a
version of a Tuldn. However, Quiche lineages fissioned
to the provinces, further duplicating offices of the
 204 John W. Fox
capital. The colonial lineages formed factions with the
indigenous elite, recalling the peripheralization of power
during the Late Classic. Power diffused among so many
centers eventually fragmented the state. The outer rings
of the Quiche state came to constitute a separate political
field, and much of the outer ring eventually rebelled.
Three fairly counterbalanced states became locked into
wars of attrition, where just two centuries earlier only
the Quiche held sway.
Both the Quiche and Tarascan states formed three
concentric circles of successively less powerful blocs ritu-
ally tied to a capital. Colonization resulted in "eco-
logical symbiosis," and not the reverse (i.e., groups,
symbiotically bound together for economic exchange,
creating a unitary state). For the Tarascans (chapter 7),
centers like Jacana and Xacana in even the most remote
concentric ring served as secondary capitals for Tzint-
zuntzan. The local ethnic elite became "Tarascanized,"
through intermarriage with the colonists in these centers.
In contrast to segmentary states, power within unitary
states was centralized within single capitals, supported by
powerful judiciary and military institutions. For example,
the grandiose pyramids at Teotihuacan seem to reflect
coercion of labor for construction, rather than "nego-
tiated" labor for semi-autonomous Mayan lineages. Teo-
tihuacan was also an enormous metropolis ten times
larger in population than Utatlan, where perhaps a third
of the regional population "forcibly" resided. Teotihua-
can's single orientation 15% degrees E of N reflects the
union of a more "secular" military faction, associated
with the Temple of Quetzalcoatl, the palaces, and the Ciu-
dadela, with a more "ecclesiastical" faction patronized by
Tlaloc at the gigantean Sun Pyramid (Millon 1988:109-
12). However, bespeaking factional bifurcation, Teoti-
huacan "celebrated the creation of the universe ...
through a series of dual oppositions ..." as evident in the
two massive pyramids (Millon 1988:112-13). Millon sug-
gests that power passed from an older line of rulers under
Tlaloc to a newer group under Quetzalcoatl.
In short, mechanical solidarity of Mayan segmentary
organization qualitatively differed from the more
organic solidarity of Teotihuacan and its economic
interdependences. In the latter, lineage and ethnic identi-
ties were remolded within social classes, and economic
flow was largely centripetal to an enormous capital. Both
Teotihuacan and Tenochtitlan were easily several sizes
greater than their provincial centers, and had no serious
political rivals.
Nevertheless, inherently antagonistic interests
between the capital and the provinces resulted in trans-
formation. For example, Sanders (1965) suggests that
the provincials at Tula, and perhaps the approximately
equidistant Cholula, Cacaxtla, and Xochicalco, may
have conspired with factions within the capital itself to
sack Teotihuacan, as inequality increased within urban
social classes (Millon 1988:149-58). The fiery cataclysm
was comparable to the destruction of the symbols of
genealogical authority at Olmec San Lorenzo and
Mayan Copan; only the ritual core of Teotihuacan was
dismantled. Similarly, the Totonacs, Tlaxcalans, and
Otomi, as provincial "factions" within or bordering the
Aztec empire, readily allied with the Spanish under
Cortes to overthrow Tenochtitlan.
The Aztecs illustrate the rapid transformation of seg-
mentary lineage alliance by absorbing unitary state insti-
tutions long entrenched among their neighbors. The
early Aztecs resemble the Quiche in that they (1)
migrated from a thinly populated frontier (Aztlan) east,
with a stopover at Tuldn; (2) were led by four "big-men"
(teomamas), who carried the icons of the patron deities
for the lineage groups (calpulltin); (3) married into the
Toltec lineage at Culhuacan as mercenaries, who pro-
vided their first ruler (tlatoani), as the first Quiche ruler,
Cotuja, transferred from the direct Toltec line at Tuja;
(4) formed a triadic state (Triple Alliance).
Even after the Aztecs became a unitary state, segmen-
tary ordering to the solar calendar persisted; with paral-
lels to Utatlan (1) Tenochtitlan was quadripartitioned
and its three causeways led to its closest allies, as the
three stairways of the Cawek's temple aligned to the
three major lineages; (2) the twin temples housed the
tribal solar war god (Huitzilopochtli) and the indigenous
rain god (Tlaloc), and the circular Temple of Quetzal-
coatl aligned them to the sunrise on the equinoxes
(Aveni 1980:246-9), comparable to the temple for the
Quiche tribal solar god (Tojil) opposite the indigenous
Nijaib god (Awilix), which from the circular temple of
the feathered K'ucumatz, aligned respectively to the
sunrise and sunset on the equinoxes.
The artifact distributions and kinship reckoning
delineated by Brumfiel (chapter 8) and Zantwijk
(chapter 9) reveal ethnic mutability in provincial towns
under Aztec rule (e.g., Otomi Xaltocan). Stratification
developed with Aztec scions forging clientage relation-
ships with subordinate Otomi. Hicks (chapter 10) pro-
vides a step-by-step reconstruction of how the Aztec
established indirect rule by playing one ethnic faction off
against another, so that one group of provincials became
elevated through direct ties to Tenochtitlan. These chap-
ters demonstrate how ethnic customs were reordered
with power relations, rather than persisting as enduring
traditions.

The ethnohistories were also reformulated. While the
Aztecs, Otomi, and Tarascans all claimed Chichimec
ancestry, Brotherston (1974) questions whether the
Aztecs fabricated aspects of their migration epic. Cer-
tainly, much of the early Aztec history was rewritten
under Itzcoatl (1426-40) to legitimize factional control
of state institutions.
D'Altroy (chapter 15) describes the intense com-
petition among chiefdoms that prompted the meteoric
rise of the Inkas to unitary statehood. The Inka came to
rule twelve million subjects in a mere century, a clear
example of "punctuated evolution." D'Altroy traces the
emergence of ruling chinehecona who, like the tribal
leaders described by Clark and Blake, Spencer,
Redmond, and Helms (chapters 2-5), secured their poli-
tical prerogatives with the spoils of war. By Wanka II
times, endemic warfare forced bifurcated populations to
nucleate into elevated defensible locations. There,
households of power brokers with attached metalwork-
ing functionaries distributed sumptuary goods to sup-
porters. Urbanism in turn intensified cultivation to
support more warriors and craftsmen.
In contrast to the Mesoamerican states, the Inka
thwarted alliances and rebellion among foes by resettling
them to the far corners of the realm and maintaining
ethnic speech and dress to accentuate provincial status.
Core administrators thereby averted the formation of
vertical factions linking urban elites and rural producers,
as in the Mayan and Aztec states. Unlike the Quiche,
outlying garrisons functioned as loyal "puppets" of the
state. Nonetheless, bipartite factionalism developed. The
last aboriginal stand in 1527 pitted two enormous fac-
tions, led by Atawalpa and Wascar, in a bitter civil war
to advance one as the god king. This was factionalism
writ large, which doomed the Inka polity as it had the
bipartite Mayan and Mexican states.
Conclusions
The authors in this collection see factional competition
as an internal dynamic spurring sociocultural trans-
formation. Unlike the progressive models of the cultural
evolutionists or the ecological systemists, we do not offer
external agency to explain change, whether linear
advance, demise, or reconfiguration. Melding ethnohis-
tory, ethnography, and archaeology, these essays docu-
ment cases of transformation from endogenous com-
petition. The often cited factors of population growth/
urbanism, hereditary leadership/stratification and eco-
logical symbiosis/trade emerge as consequences of fac-
tionalism, not as its preconditions. Indeed, even the
Conclusions 205
agricultural base for American civilization transferred
from one region to the next along factional linkages.
Specific agricultural practices, ecological symbiosis, and
population density are all social "effects" of factional
competition.
This volume examines peoples divided along the lines
of kinship, ethnicity, and class. The ranked societies of
Panama, Venezuela, Mississippian North American, and
Mayan Mesoamerica were transitional between kin-
ordered (segmental) and civil (stratified) society, with
both kinship and tributary modes of production. In all
of these fields, self-aggrandizers recruited followers to
increase power, prestige, and material advantages.
In overview, leadership took form from raiding,
feasting, and other services abetted by intra- and inter-
village gift-giving among counterpoised villages. Leader-
ship crystallized in chiefdoms where the products of
kinship production were redistributed through the chief
to outlying support and production groups. Lastly, a
ruling class with the hegemonic mechanisms of the state
appropriated social labor in a tributary mode. People
emerge in these case studies as the principal factor of
production. More citizens meant more food and craft
producers, and more warriors. Urbanism was a political
phenomenon; wealth, power, and people were concen-
trated for intensified manipulation. The Maya, Inkas,
and Aztecs were in the business of moving and realigning
people to suit the needs of a core group. Nevertheless,
even in new territories the processes of faction-
formation soon aligned functionaries of the core group
with their subjects in vertical patron-clientage group-
ings. Upward mobility was achieved through the conduit
of factionalism.
In general, since the core group must justify the
extraction of surplus labor or face open resistance, ideol-
ogy and mythology are subject to manipulation by
opposing factions. For example, the Maya assigned con-
quered peoples calendrical identities; therefore, asym-
metries in relations of power, authority, and labor were
said to be ordained by cosmic design.
In this view, the state amalgamated peoples with con-
flicting interests who vied in subterfuge. Ethnicity,
kinship, and class defined the mosaic of overt contending
groups; factions cut across them. Consequently, ethnic
distinctions began to blur (e.g., the Otomi) as kinship
relations transfigured under the tribute demands of a
dominant class (e.g., the Aztecs). Factional connections
were used to move up socially. Paradoxically, the Inkas
rigidified ethnicity for similar reasons.
Across the gamut of social formations, two groups
generated a social force. In settlement patterning,
206 John W. Fox

duality is evident among the incipient Olmecs through

the Inkas and Aztecs, and was mythologized in the Notes
Quetzalcoatl-Tezcatlipoca saga of endemic competition. 1 Mesoamerican ethnohistory describes conflict in
Ethnohistory commences in the AD 900s, with the flight greater detail than in other American contexts, and
of peoples throughout Mesoamerica who needed charters Mesoamerica connected the Mississippian north with
for new political formations and to legitimize inequalities. at least Panama south, defining a macroregional
What then was the basis for political action? Allied sphere of interaction. Thus, comparisons are made for
peoples nested within wider horizontal or vertical alli- regionally distinctive peoples who were linked in
ance groups seeking to secure mutual advantages. But social exchange.
spoils were divided, and this provided potential for
further conflict. New factional relations continuously
transformed political structures.

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 Author index

Adams, R. McC. 87 D'Altroy, T. 196, 205 Marquardt, W. 67

Allen, M. 58 DePratter, C. 64 Marx, K. 8
Althusser, L. 192, 197-8 Donald, L. and D. Mitchell 175 Maybury-Lewis, D. 33, 35
Alva Ixtlilxochitl, F. de 90, 92, 111 Downs, A. 195 Millon, R. 204
Alvarado Tezozomoc, H. 109-110, Duran, D. Ill, 114 Morey, N. 43
114 Murra,J. 179
Anales de Cuauhtitlan 96, 113 Earle, T. 12
Anales de Tlatelolco 107 Elster, J. 193, 197 Nazareo de Xaltocan, P. 100
Andagoya, P. de 47, 57-8 Enloe, C. 88 Nicholas, R. 196
Anderson, D. 7, 9, 11,201-2 Espinoza, G. de 173, 180, 184
Olivera, M. 114
Bailey, F. 196 Farriss, N. 144 Orenstein, H. 21
Barth, F. 3, 89 Fernandez Valbuena, J. 164, 166 Ortner, S. 3
Binford, L. 17 Flannery, K. and J. Marcus 123, 134 Oviedo y Valdes, G. 55, 57-8
Blake, M. and J. E. Clark 74 Fox, J. 147
Blanton, R. 10, 133 Fried, M. 89 Parry, W. 127
Bloch, M. 8 Friedman, J. and M. Rowlands 18 Patterson, T. 89
Bourne, E. 64 Plekhanov, G. 191
Brand, D. 80, 82 Gay, J. A. 134 Pohl, M. and J. Pohl 7-9, 203
Brotherston, G. 202, 204 Gibson, C. 95-6 Pollard, H. 196, 200
Brumfiel, E. 71, 75, 111, 196, 200-1 Giddens, A. 3 Popol Vuh 158, 168
Brumfiel, E. and J. Fox 55 Poulantzas, N. 192
Bujra, J. 4 Hally, D. 74 Price, B. 7, 175
Burgoa, F. de 134 Harman, C. 193^ Proskouriakoff, T. 149
Byland, B. and J. Pohl 200 Harner, M. 52
Hassig, R. 115 Rabin, E. 119
Carmack, R. 135, 169 Hastorf, C. and T. Earle 174 Redmond, E. 7-9, 196, 202, 205
Carneiro, R. 33, 44, 56, 59 Hayden, B. and R. Gargett 7 Relaciones de Yucatan 140-1
Carrasco, P. 96-8 Helms, M. 7, 76, 202, 205 Relaciones Geograficas 134
Carriedo, J. 134 Herrera y Tordesillas, A. de 121 Reyes, A. de los 119
Chance, J. 134 Hicks, F. 197, 204 Reyes Garcia, L. 114
Chase, D. 156 Hirschman, A. 196 Rice, D. 155
Chimalpahin, D. 96, 99-100 Hodder, I. 89 Rostworowski de Diez Canseco, M.
Cieza de Leon, P. de 49, 119, 176, 189 Hodge, M. 113 173
Clark, J. and M. Blake 6-10, 197, Roys, R. 141-2
199, 201-2, 205 Kautsky, K. 191-2, 198
Coe, M. 24 Kowalewski, S. 11, 196, 201 Sahagun, B. de 94, 98
Cohen, A. 18 Sahlins, M. 31
Cohen, G. 193 Landa, D. de 141, 150 Salisbury, R. and M. Silverman 5
Costin, C. 177 Lowe, G. 24 Sandbrook, R. 4

230

Sandefur, E. 177
Sanders, W. 204
Sarmiento de Gamboa, P. 180
Schele, L. 166
Shapiro, G. 74
Siegel, B. and A. Beals 4
Smith, Mary E. 119
Index 231
Smith, Michael E. 100 Torquemada, J. de 111, 114-15
Spencer, C. 5, 7-9, 58-9, 196, 201, 205
Spores, R. 121-2 Werner, D. 30, 345
Stalin, J. 192 Whitecotton, J. 134
Stern, S. 184 Wright, H. 58
Tocqueville, A. de 117 Zantwijk, R. van 89, 92-4, 196, 200
 Subject index

Acacihtli 106 Belize 145-6, 152, 154-5 Chontalpa 153, 155-6, 161
Acamapichtli 105-7, 112 benjadjwyr 31-5 class stratification 9, 93, 127, 134-6,
Aculhua 90, 94, 104-5 Bird Jaguar 149-50, 152-3 174-5, 192, 194
agent-centered analysis, see Bonampak 147, 156 class struggle 3-4, 143, 193-5
subject-centered analysis burials 69, 86-7, 146, 151, 178 Coaixtlahuan 11415
aggrandizers, see leaders coalition building, see faction
agriculture 28, 30, 40-1, 64, 140, cabras 36, 46, 50, 53, 55-6, 59, 202 building
154-5 caciques 64, 69, 133^4 coalitions 10-11
adoption of 7, 28-30, 93, 98 cahals 148-9, 152^ Cocom Itza 141
extensive 7, 12 Cahokia 68, 72, 74-5 Codex Boturini 95
intensive 7, 11-12,22-3, 154 Cakchiquel 168-70 Codex Mendoza 95, 106
Aguateca 148 Calusa 67 Codex Zouche-Nuttal 117-26, 200
ah cuch cabs 142-3 Canagua Valley 39 Codice Aubin 95
Ahuitzotl 105 Caracol 144-7 coercion theory 20
Ajaw Quiche 159-62, 164-6, 170, 202 Casqui 65, 67, 69 Cofitachequi 63-4, 66-7
alliances 9-10, 19, 36, 59, 65, 70, 111, Cauca Valley 44, 46-9 Colhua95, 101, 103-9
115-17, 123, 125-6, 138 140-1, Cawek 159-70 collective action theory 195-7
144, 148-52, 156, 168, 186, 192 ceramics 11, 17, 22-9, 72^, 86-7, commoners 8-10, 36, 55, 63, 65, 70,
building 6, 9-11, 19,40,58, 121, 119, 133, 135, 176, 182-3 74,89,91-3, 101, 114-15, 134,
142, 151 Cerro Jazmin 119 138-41, 144, 153-6
intervillage 5, 52-6 Cerro Negro 162 communal labor 11
Anales de Tlatelolco 95 Chalchiuhtlatonac 104 competition 7-9, 11, 21, 23, 29, 92,
ancestral shrines 67-8 Chalco95, 115-16, 197 138, 151, 156, 174, 176-7, 182,
Antipa 52 Chalman 104 193-4, 203
Apirama 47-8 Chantuto 22, 24 for followers 8, 18-19, 21, 76, 138
arutam 49, 51-3 Charo-Undameo 8 3 ^ , 86 for positions 17, 138, 155-6, 173,
assimilation 80-8, 93-4 Chiaha 68-9 180, 183, 202
Atotoztli 108 Chiapas 11, 17,21,23,29 for resources 7, 57-8, 154, 174
Axayacatl 105, 108-9, 114 ChichenltzaHl, 143, 147, 155 intra-elite 8-9, 29, 65-7, 92
Ayactlacatzin 113 Chichimec 81, 93, 96, 104-5, 205 Coosa 63-4, 66
ayllu 173-4, 176, 185-6 chiefdoms 17-18, 20-1, 29, 36, 44, 51, Copan 140, 155, 163,201
Azcapotzalco 106, 112-13 54, 56, 59-70, 171, 173, 175, 178, Copil 104-6
Aztec culture 86-8, 94, 96, 100-16, 202^ corporate groups 4-6, 8, 92-3, 127,
124, 197, 200, 204-5 Mississippian 63-76 174
Aztlan 103-4 Panama 36-7, 59 cosmology 158-70,201
South-American 44, 46-54, 202 craft specialization 17, 22, 127, 133
Barinas38, 134-5, 155 Venezuela 38, 40, 42, 44, 51 Cronica Mexicayotl 112
Barra 22-30 Chilam Balam, Books of 142 Cuauhnahuac 108, 115
barrios 134-6, 155 Chimalpopoca 105-7 Cuauhtemoc 105, 108-9
batabs 142 Chinampanec 104 Cuauhtinchan 114

232

Cuauhtitlan 111-14
Cuauhtlatoa 107
Cuauhtlequetzqui 104-6
Cuetlachtzin 112-13
Cuilapan 125, 130, 134
Cuitlahuac 109
cultural ecology 3, 6-7, 12-13, 18,
191, 198,201
curaca 51-3, 67
Curbati 38-9
Cuzco 174, 176, 180
decision-making 44, 51, 59, 63, 79, 85
De Luna expedition 63, 66
De Soto 61-66
disease 7
DosPilas 148, 157
Dyar 74
Dzutsi 33
Ek Balam 148
elites 9-11, 63, 65, 69-71, 74-6, 82,
85-6,88,92, 101, 11^16,
138^1, 143-4, 151-2, 154^6,
173^, 176-8, 182, 184-5
local 10, 57-8, 6 3 ^ , 68, 85-7,
115-16, 152, 178, 182, 186, 197,
204
regional 9, 11, 42-3, 66, 185-6
ethnicity 79-81, 85-96, 101-2, 110,
134-6, 152-3, 196,205
Etowah 75
European contact, see Spanish
contact
exchange 11, 21, 36, 43, 71-2, 75-6,
88, 125, 182-202, see also
long-distance trade
faction building 6, 32-3, 41, 202
factional competition 3-12, 32^, 55,
65-6,71,74-6, 107, 112, 117,
12^6, 138, 147, 155, 170-1,
173-4, 176, 178-80, 182-3, 186-7,
191-3, 196-7, 199, 201-3, 205
factions 3-5, 8, 33, 55, 59, 93, 107,
117, 144, 151, 154-8, 171, 178-9,
191, 200, 205
archaeological correlates 10-12,
23-30, 61, 67-9, 72, 74, 174-6,
182
definition 3-4, 191
feasting 5, 10-11, 25, 49, 74, 111,
140-1, 175-7, 182, 203
followings 7, 9, 11,21,33,34
fortifications 11, 36, 48-9, 87, 147,
151
Gavan 38^3
Ghurka syndrome 88
gift-giving 10, 21, 32, 34-5, 37, 64, 73,
111, 174,203
globaba, see tequitlato
glyphs 39, 158-60
Guatemala 1536
Hutunmarca 176, 182-3
HatunXuaxa 182-3
he'att-5
hierarchies 18, 22-3, 39-51, 46, 51,
55-6, 58-9, 63, 105, 127, 134,
178, 182, 186, 191
Hill of the Wasp, see Yucu Yoco
historical materialism 191-3
Huachino 119-25
Huandacareo 86
Huehuetoca 113
Huetamo 84
Huexotla 97-8
Huitzilihuitl 105, 107
Huitzilopochtli 94, 104-5, 202
Hunac Ceel 143
Ilancueitl 106
imperial expansion 111-16, 174, 176,
178-80, 182-3, 186, 197
inheritance, see succession
Inka empire 171, 173-4, 176-86,
200
interaction networks 7, 19-20
Iquehuacatzin 108
Itza 141-3, 153
Itzcoatl 105-7, 111-13,205
Ixehuatzin 112
Iximche 169
Jacawitz 160-2, 164-5, 170
Jacona 85, 204
Jalieza 130-2
Jaltepec 117, 121-3, 125
Jeweled Skull 149-51, 154
jewelry, see personal ornamentation
Jivaro 44-5, 47-53
Juan Julca Misari 185-6
Junajpu 164-5, 169-70, 202
kakaram 51
katun 143-4, 150-1, 153, 155
Kayapo 31-2
Kimbell panel 151
kinship groups 69-71, 90-3, 103, 128,
134-6, 161, 173, 203^
K'ucumatz 164, 166-70, 200, 204
kuraka 184-5
labrets, see personal ornamentation
La Pasadita 147, 149
Lake Patzcuaro Basin 80-1, 88
leaders 4, 7-9, 11, 13, 17-21, 24-5,
28-9,32,46, 56, 58-9, 174
leadership 6, 31, 34-5
requirements 6, 21, 31, 34
Leiden plaque 153
Lienzo de Guevea 124-5
Locona 22, 26-8, 30
Index 233
long-distance trade 6, 36-7, 42, 58, 74,
88
Lord 8 Deer Jaguar Claw 118-19,
122-3, 125-6
Lord 8 Wind Flint Eagle 119, 121-2
Lord 5 Flower 124
Lord 5 Movement 121-2
Lord 9 Wind Stone Skull 119, 121-2
Lord 10 Eagle 121-3
Lord 12 Lizard of Hill of the Wasp
119, 121-2
Lord 2 Rain Twenty Jaguars 121-3
Macuilxochitl 130-1
Malinalxochitl 104-5
Mantaro 171-2, 178, 180-1, 183-4
Marca 182-3
marriages 11, 19, 23, 34, 59, 67,
69-71, 9 3 ^ , 103, 106, 112,
121-3, 150-2, 156, 162
Marxism 3, 12-13, 89, 136, 191-5,
197-8
Matlatzinca 83^4, 86, 94, 114
Maxtla 107
Maya culture 11, 127, 135, 138-70,
200-3
Mayapan 140, 141, 143, 156
Mazatan 17, 22-6, 28-9
Mekranoti 31-6
metals 10, 177-8, 183
Mexica93, 95, 104, 106-7, 111, 114
Mexico
Formative 17, 22-33, 120, 127-8,
133, 154
Classic 117, 119-20, 123, 125, 133,
136, 138, 143-4, 147-8, 151-2,
154-6, 158,203
Postclassic 98, 100, 117, 119, 123,
125-7, 133, 135-8, 141^, 152,
154-8, 161, 170
Mexitin 104-6
Michoacan80-1, 86
Mississippian culture 61-76
Mitla 133
Mixquica 95
Mixtec 117, 119-20, 123-6, 133-6, 200
Mokaya 17, 22, 24, 29-30
Monte Alban 119-21, 123-5, 127-31
monumental architecture 11, 64, 75,
133^, 136, 138, 144, 147, 151-2,
155, 159, 163-5, 167,204
Moquihuix 108-9
mortuary treatment 22, 50, 52, 64,
75-6, 146-7, 152
Motecuzoma Ilhuicamina 105, 107-9,
111, 115
Motecuzoma Xocoyotzin 105, 109
mound building 39, 61, 64, 69, 74-5
Moundville 745
Napochies 66
Natchez 69-70, 74
 234 Index

Nijaib 159-60, 162-5, 168-70, 204 Shavante 32-6 Totecs 93, 96, 103-4, 167, 204
Nochixtlan Valley 118-19 shrines 67 Toluca Valley 98, 114
Soconusco 22, 24 trade goods 36, 42, 58
Oaxaca6, 11-12, 119, 121, 123, Spanish contact 7, 61, 65, 67-8, 82, European 7
125-8, 132-7, 195-6 109-10, 138, 141^4, 155-6, 170, exotic 10, 34, 36-7, 58, 125
Ocute 63, 66-7 173, 180, 183^, 186-7, 204 trade routes 36, 43, 58, 202
Otomi 84, 86-90, 92, 94, 96-100, 104, Spiro 72, 75 Treaty of Mani 141
106, 200, 204-5 states tribes 9, 44, 46-54, 89
Aztec 90, 94-5, 101, 108-16, 203, tribute extraction 9, 64, 67, 113-14,
Pacaha 65, 67, 69 205 140, 143, 146, 154, 166
Pachacutec 179-80 Classic Maya 144, 203, 205 Tuja 162-3, 166, 168-70
Palenque 150-1 Inka 171, 173^, 178-83, 186, 203, Tulan 159, 161, 163, 169-70, 203^,
Panama 36, 55-9 205 see also Tollan
Pa'Quiche 168 Mixtec 119-20, 123-6, 133-6 Tunanmarca 10, 176
Pardo expedition 63, 66 Oaxaca 127-37 Tututepec 125
patronage 9, 92, 111, 139-43, 153-6 Quiche Maya 158-70, 201, 203-4 Tzintzuntzan 85-7, 204
peer polity interaction 19, 117, 203 Tarascan 79-88, 203-4 Tzutujil 168-70
personal ornamentation 36, 867, Stone Men 119
97-100, 167 structures 11, 22, 36, 64, 86, 131-3, Uaxactun 144-5, 151-2
Peten 145-6, 154-5 176,178 Utatlan 159-60, 162^, 166-7,
Piedras Negras 151-2, 156 subject-centered analysis 3-4, 12 169-70, 203-4
Popayan 48 subsistence shortages, see resource Uxmal 143, 201
population dynamics 7-8, 13, 19, 22, shortages
23,29,74, 154 succession 21, 34-6, 52-3, 63, 67-71, valuables 6, 10-11, 52, see also
post-war rituals 49-50 143, 151, 173, 183, 186 prestige goods
prestige goods 7, 10-11, 36-7, 58-9, Suchilquitongo 130 Venezuela 11,37-8
64, 71-3, 75, 82, 88, 125, 146, surplus 6, 9, 11,43,94, 139 Vitachuco 67
154, 167, 173,202 system-centered analysis 12
Wamari 33
Quetzalcoatl 200-1 Tagaya 63 Wanka 171-8, 180, 182-3, 185-6, 205
^ v / 3 6 - 7 , 55-9, 202 Talimeco 73 warfare 5, 7, 9, 11, 20, 23, 36, 43-54,
Quiche 141, 159-70, 199-201, 203-5 Tarascan culture 80-8, 200, 204 57, 58, 65-8, 76, 92, 113, 115, 134,
Quik'ab 169 Tasculuza 634 138, 140-1, 144, 151-2, 154, 156,
Quinatzin 934 Taximaroa 84, 88 168, 174, 178, 180, 196-7, 202-3
Tecalco 114 War of Heaven 117, 119, 121, 125-6
raids 20, 45-9, 51-2, 154, 196, 202-3 technological development 26, 87, 129 Wascar 180
rebellion 5, 63-4, 66-7, 93, 107, 115, Tecocohuitzin 113 WaynaQhapac 180-1
182 Tenoch 105-6
Red and White Bundle 119, 121-5 Tenochtitlan 94, 104-15, 200, 204 Xacona, see Jacona
redistribution 22, 64-5, 139, 174-5, Teotihuacan 204 Xaltemoctzin 113
182 Teozacoalco 1245 Xaltocan90, 92, 96-101, 113
regional interaction 7, 20, 40, 42, 52, Tepanec 90, 93, 95, 104-9, 111-13 Xauxa 173, 182, 185
85 Tepeyacac 111-12, 114 Xbalanque 164, 170
Relaciones de Yucatan 142 Tequitlato 134 Xibalba 161, 168-70
religion 5, 7-8, 75, 86, 97, 144, 155 Teuhlehuac 107 Xico 97-8
religious functionaries 58, 142, 155-6 Texcoco93, 111-13 Xihuitltemoc 107
residential mobility 22, 331 Tezcatlipoca 200 XipeTotec 124
resource productivity 18-19, 174 Tezozomoc 108 Xiu 141-3, 153
resource shortages 6-7, 13 Thupa Yupkani 180 Xochimilca 95
Reyes Etla 132-3 Tikal 144-5, 147-9, 151-2, 155-6, Xolotl 90
ritual 25-6, 28, 47, 49-50, 94, 140, 170,203 Xoxocotlan 132
144, 152-3, 156, 203 Tilantongo 117, 119, 121-3, 125-6
Titles of Ebtun 141 yacates 86-7
sacos 36, 46, 55-9, 202 Titulo Yax 159 Yagul 131, 133
Sakic 165-7, 170 Tlacaelel 105, 107-9 Yanomamo 44-5, 47-8, 52-3
San Jose Mogote 11, 127, 132, 135-6 Tlacopan 110-11 Yauyos 173
San Lorenzo 202 Tlacoten 105-7 Yaxchilan 148-54, 156
San Martin Tilcajete 130-1 Tlalhuica 94 YucuYoco 119-21
Sao Domingos 33 Tlalixtac 131, 133
settlement patterns 11, 20, 23, 39-41, Tlatelolco 104-9, 113 Zaachila 124-6, 132^
53, 55, 74^6, 85, 127-9, 135-6, Tojil 166, 170 Zapotec 120, 123-6, 133-5, 200
158, 175-6, 178,201,205-6 Tollan 111-13, see also Tulan Zozoma 112