Exploring Adaptive Variation among Hunter-gatherers with Binford’s Frames of Reference

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Journal of Archaeological Research ISSN 1059-0161 J Archaeol ResDOI 10.1007/s10814-013-9068-y

Exploring Adaptive Variation amongHunter-gatherers with Binford’s Frames ofReference

Amber L. Johnson

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Exploring Adaptive Variation among Hunter-gathererswith Binford’s Frames of Reference

Amber L. Johnson

� Springer Science+Business Media New York 2013

Abstract The most significant change in hunter-gatherer studies has been the shift

from expecting hunter-gatherers to have similar properties wherever they are found

to recognizing that hunter-gatherer adaptations should vary along many different

dimensions. Although archaeologists approach research with different goals, there is

remarkable convergence in our knowledge about hunter-gatherers past and present.

The ethnographic record of recent hunter-gatherers reveals enormous variation

along several dimensions. The specific combinations of characteristics displayed

among hunter-gatherers are not infinitely variable but cluster as distinctive ‘‘system

states’’ (following Binford, Constructing frames of reference: an analytical method

for archaeological theory building using ethnographic and environmental data sets,

2001) that pattern with both environmental and demographic variables at a global

scale. Frames of reference based on these generalizations have implications for what

archaeologists should expect for hunter-gatherers in different environmental set-

tings, and also for how they should change over time if regional population density

generally increases. Recognizing that patterns of variation at the regional scale are

different from those at the global scale, I propose a hierarchical strategy for

developing expectations for variation among prehistoric hunter-gatherers that can

both situate the research locale with respect to global patterns of variation and

acknowledge important dimensions of variation in habitat structure that are likely to

condition regional variation in hunter-gatherer mobility, subsistence, and social

organization.

Keywords Hunter-gatherer � Variation � Frames of reference � Ethnographic

A. L. Johnson (&)

Department of Society & Environment, Truman State University, 100 E. Normal St.,

BT 2210, Kirksville, MO 63501, USA

e-mail: [email protected]

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J Archaeol Res

DOI 10.1007/s10814-013-9068-y

Author's personal copy

Introduction

Perhaps the most significant change in hunter-gatherer studies over the last several

decades has been the shift from expecting hunter-gatherers to have similar

properties (subsistence, settlement pattern, technology, social organization)

wherever they are found to recognizing that hunter-gatherer adaptations should

vary (often widely) along many different dimensions in different environments and

under different levels of population density and regional organizational diversity.

With this shift from a primary focus on describing ‘‘typical’’ hunter-gatherers to

exploring variation among hunter-gatherers, there also has been an intellectual shift

from arguing about which groups are most typical of the class to developing or

testing theory that can explain large- and small-scale patterning of variation among

hunter-gatherers as well as the circumstances under which and the processes by

which hunting-gathering adaptations are transformed into a range of horticultural,

agricultural, pastoral, or agropastoral adaptations.

Researchers approach the study of hunter-gatherer synchronic variation and

temporal change from perspectives that vary along many different dimensions. For

some the goal is developing an understanding of individual cultural contexts (past or

present), whereas others pursue explanations of cross-cultural variation at regional

or global scales. Some rely on individual human intention or unique historical

events as the locus of cause; others see patterns as the result of multiple individual

humans making similar rational decisions and look to the broader ecological context

(both social and physical) to understand why those decisions might pattern the way

they do. Some consider humans as a unique type of volitional actor operating in a

socially constructed world, whereas others assume human behavior is conditioned

by the same ecological and evolutionary factors that influence the behavior of other

animals. Some focus on variation in space, some on change over time, and a few on

the interaction of variation in space and change over time. This variation in

anthropological approaches to observations on hunter-gatherer societies and their

variation create a complicated literature full of professional disagreements. Often

these are based on ideological debates over who has the correct approach rather than

substantive discussions of the relative utility of different approaches for developing

explanations of the patterning in the ethnographic and archaeological records at

varying temporal and spatial scales.

Within the realm of hunter-gatherer studies in general, and hunter-gatherer

archaeology in particular, the central axis of theoretical disagreement at present is

related to the goals of studying hunter-gatherers (or anthropology in general). After

a few decades with the primary focus on evolutionary or ecological factors that

condition hunter-gatherer behavior, decision making, and large-scale variation

(Prentiss et al. 2009; see also recent reviews of literature in Bettinger 1991; Binford

2001; Kelly 1995; Price 2002), there has been a resurgence of culture history

(Emerson et al. 2009; Sassaman and Holly 2011).

The primary arguments of those advocating a return to culture history are that

mid-20th century cultural evolutionary stages (band, tribe, chiefdom, state) have

been shown not to be an accurate reflection of cultural trajectories and have

prevented us from recognizing and appreciating the full range of variation among

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hunter-gatherers, and that a focus on how hunter-gatherers adapt to environmental

and demographic contexts leads to a perception of these groups as more ‘‘primitive’’

and ‘‘natural’’ than groups with agriculture and more complex societies who are

allowed agency in ‘‘writing’’ their own histories (Sassaman and Holly 2011). I doubt

any researchers working from contemporary evolutionary and ecological perspec-

tives would disagree with either of these basic propositions. In both cases, advocates

of culture history encourage a focus on interpretation of social meaning in the

unique details of the archaeological record, rather than an explanation of general

patterns that result from universal processes. These very different goals for studying

the past, rather than knowledge or beliefs about what that past was like, are the heart

of the academic disagreement about how best to study the archaeological record.

When we examine what has actually been learned, there is remarkable convergence

in our knowledge about hunter-gatherers past and present, whatever the research

agenda of the researchers.

If the goal of studying the archaeological record is to develop an interpretation of

the past to emphasize the humanity of those who created the archaeological record

and to represent our own social interpretation of the meaning of the past, then a

humanistic strategy like culture history, with reference to contemporary social and

historical theory, is a perfectly reasonable strategy. If the goal of studying the

archaeological record is to develop explanations that allow us to predict when

certain patterns will and will not occur in that record, then we must develop

explanations based on theory that allow us to apply knowledge gained in one

context to other contexts. In either case, using environmental and ethnographic

frames of reference to develop expectations based on the known ranges of variation

can contribute productively to research. For those seeking explanations, environ-

mental and ethnographic frames of reference are a source of data for both inductive

theory building and deductive hypothesis testing. For those pursuing explication,

understanding that dimensions of past cultural systems are patterned in regular ways

with respect to environmental and demographic factors could be valuable for

contextualizing historical interpretation.

Explanation based in general process

The initial focus of this review is on those approaches that seek to explain

synchronic variation and emergent change in terms of general processes that are

relevant in more than one particular time and place. This focus does not deny the

impact of unique individuals or historical events but strategically focuses on factors

that should predictably apply in multiple contexts, as those that should be of the

greatest relevance in the widest range of contexts. Patterns of variation and change

are now often approached using human behavioral ecology (Bird and O’Connell

2006), neo-Darwinian (selectionist) evolutionary (O’Brien 2008; O’Brien and

Lyman 2000), or macroevolutionary perspectives (Prentiss et al. 2009). These

approaches are compared and evaluated by Zeder (2009). To these I add a

discussion of Binford’s (2001) approach to cross-cultural pattern recognition using

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environmental and hunter-gatherer frames of reference that is largely inspired by the

same ecological literature as the emerging field of macroecology (Blackburn and

Gaston 2003; Brown 1995; Brown et al. 2003; Rosenzweig 1995).

Environmental and social factors compose the ecological context of individuals

within a society and of societies within a landscape filled with other societies. Since

both the adoption and the relative success or failure of adaptive strategies in

evolutionary terms is conditioned by the match of strategies to the adaptive

landscape in which they are being adopted and used, ecological and evolutionary

approaches are intimately related but differentiated along multiple dimensions,

including scale of analysis, tempo of change, directedness of change, and role of

human intent in change (Zeder 2009, pp. 187–196).

The first dimension that differentiates these approaches is the scale of analysis.

Neo-Darwinian evolutionary and human behavioral ecology are generally micro-

scale approaches that focus on individual traits or people as the units of analysis,

whereas macroevolutionary and cross-cultural analysis are macroscale approaches

that focus on integrated sociocultural systems as the units of analysis. Perspectives

on the tempo of change (gradual vs. punctuated) and directedness of change

(undirected or nondirectional vs. directed or directional) are strongly correlated with

the scale of analysis. Both microscale approaches emphasize undirected, gradual

change over time, whereas both macroscale approaches recognize punctuated

patterns of directional change in which periods of relative stasis (or gradual change)

are interrupted by periods of rapid change and social reorganization. Where

approaches at a similar scale of analysis differ is primarily in attribution of the locus

of cause for variation and the explanatory importance of human intent in culture

change.

Human behavioral ecology and macroevolutionary approaches emphasize the

importance of human intent in decision making that structures variation within and

between societies and, for macroevolutionary approaches, the importance of human

agency in directing processes of culture change. This attribute is a primary point of

overlap between macroevolutionary and culture history approaches (e.g., Prentiss

2009, 2011). Neither neo-Darwinian nor cross-cultural comparative analysis relies

on human intention to explain patterns. Neo-Darwinian models rely on processes of

selection, drift, and cultural transmission to explain patterns in the distribution of

particular attributes over time. Binford’s (2001) macroecological cross-cultural

analysis focuses on ecological conditions, including distribution of both resources

and people, as the factors that must be considered in an explanation of variation in

strategies. This does not mean that researchers working in these traditions deny that

hunter-gatherers (past or present) exercised social agency and made intentional

decisions. The choice to focus explanation elsewhere is a strategic, epistemological

choice based in the recognition (1) that we cannot observe human intent directly and

thus cannot test explanations that depend on variation in intent as the primary locus

of cause, and (2) that patterns in the archaeological record are the result of multiple

humans making similar decisions under similar conditions, raising the question:

under what conditions do people with the same decision-making capabilities make

different choices?

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Dimensions of variation among recent hunter-gatherers

Knowledge of variation among recent hunter-gatherers has grown immensely since

the 1968 ‘‘Man the Hunter’’ symposium in which Lee and DeVore (1968, p. 11)

suggested, ‘‘We make two assumptions about hunters and gatherers: (1) they live in

small groups, and (2) they move around a lot.’’ This view of hunter-gatherers has

proven to be much too simplistic. Both ethnographic and archaeological studies

have documented numerous examples of hunter-gatherers organized in quite diverse

ways. Neither of these generalizations has stood the test of further research in either

archaeological (Price and Brown 1985) or ethnographic domains (Binford 2001;

Kelly 1995). Kelly (1995, pp. 1–37) supplies a comprehensive review of

anthropological ideas about hunter-gatherers and the intellectual shift from seeking

the most appropriate model of an assumed (universal) original hunter-gatherer

society to seeking to explain variation among hunter-gatherer adaptations. This

section reviews some of the dimensions of variation that have been documented

among recent hunter-gatherers at global and regional scales of analysis.

System states

At a global scale of comparison, the ethnographic record of recent hunter-gatherers

reveals enormous ranges of variation along several dimensions, including (but certainly

not limited to) subsistence strategy, mobility strategy, settlement pattern, division of

labor, properties of leadership, scale and flexibility of social networks, and degree of

internal status differentiation. Although there are great ranges of variation along each of

these dimensions, the specific combinations of characteristics displayed among hunter-

gatherers are not infinitely variable but cluster in the ‘‘hyperspace’’ of possibilities

(following Hutchinson 1953; see also Cronk 1999) as distinctive ‘‘system states’’

(following Binford 2001). System states (Binford 2001) are conceptually similar to

configurations of the cultural core (following Boyd et al. 1997) that are elsewhere

referred to as bauplane (Rosenberg 1994; Spencer 1987, 1990, 1997), resource

management strategies (RMS) (Prentiss 2009; Prentiss and Chatters 2003), or complex

adaptive strategies (Bettinger 2009). System states, however, are defined at a higher

level of abstraction than the other approaches that recognize broadly similar types of

adaptation. Descriptions of bauplane, resource management strategies, and complex

adaptive strategies focus on particular technology, resource targets, or forms of social

organization, whereas system states recognize similarity in the rules structuring

variation across particular strategies within the bounds of the system state category.

Binford (2001, pp. 342–343) identifies seven system states among the 339 hunter-

gatherer cases in his comparative dataset: (1) mounted hunters, (2) horticulturalists,

(3) mutualists/forest product specialists, (4) generic hunter-gatherers, (5) generic

hunter-gatherers with instituted leadership, (6) wealth-differentiated hunter-gatherers,

and (7) internally ranked hunter-gatherers. The first three system states represent

hunter-gatherers with domesticated animals or plants or regular trade with neighbor-

ing non-hunter-gatherers. The remaining four system states occur among econom-

ically autonomous hunter-gatherer cases. System state variation patterns with both

effective temperature (�C) and population density (Fig. 1).

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Particular system states are regularly associated with particular combinations of

environmental and demographic variables (including both population density and

proximity of neighboring groups with a distinct system state). The implications of

this patterning are (1) that there are ecological constraints on organizational patterns

among hunter-gatherers such that organizational options can be predicted given

knowledge of basic environmental properties of particular locales, and (2) that

density-dependent system states recognized among contemporary hunter-gatherers

living in similar environments provide a clue to likely trajectories of change over

time in settings where regional population densities follow a regular growth pattern.

Thus generalizations about the conditions under which distinct system states and

subsistence strategies are found for contemporary hunter-gatherers can help

contextualize archaeological investigation of hunter-gatherer variation and prompt

specific expectations for patterns of change over time.

Fig. 1 System state of recent hunter-gatherers (SYSTATE3) in property space defined by effectivetemperature (Y) and log 10 population density (X) using data from Binford’s 339-case hunter-gathererdata file. Horizontal lines mark Binford’s storage threshold (ET = 15.25) and terrestrial plant dependencethreshold (12.75). Vertical line marks Binford’s packing threshold (DENSITY = 9.1 persons per100 km2)

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Generalizations at a global scale of analysis

Group sizes, house forms, mortuary practices, and even beliefs about death (Binford

1990, 2001, 2004) regularly pattern with both environmental and demographic

variables in the ethnographic record of recent hunter-gatherers. Here I review a few

prominent patterns as a foundation for further discussion of how this knowledge of

variation among recent hunter-gatherers could be used to inform archaeological

research and drive the production of new knowledge.

Two recent summaries of patterns of variation among ethnographically

documented hunter-gatherers (Binford 2001; Kelly 1995) use overlapping data

but have quite different goals. The Foraging Spectrum (Kelly 1995) provides a

thorough review of hunter-gatherer studies in anthropology, problematizes the

typological definitions of ‘‘hunter-gatherer,’’ and dimensionalizes hunter-gatherer

variation in chapters focusing on subsistence, mobility, exchange, group size,

gender roles, and internal status differentiation. Large-scale patterning is discussed

in the context of behavioral ecology and the individual decisions that produce

different patterns under different ecological and social conditions. Binford’s (2001)

Constructing Frames of Reference introduces analytical methods for using what is

known about organizational variation among hunter-gatherers, in conjunction with

what is known about their environmental and demographic settings, to demonstrate

both an inductive strategy for theory building and analytical strategies for using

generalizations and propositions developed from ethnographic patterning among

hunter-gatherers as a tool for archaeological research. Table 1 presents summary

statistics on the ranges of variation recorded for a few commonly discussed aspects

of hunter-gatherer subsistence and social organization. Some prominent general-

izations from these pattern-recognition studies are presented below.

Subsistence, environment, and population density

Other things being equal, the dependence of hunter-gatherer groups on plants for

subsistence decreases as latitude increases such that at low latitudes (high effective

temperature), hunter-gatherers are often primarily dependent on plant foods,

whereas at high latitudes (low effective temperature), low-population-density

hunter-gatherers are primarily dependent on animal foods (Binford 1990; Hiatt

1970; Kelly 1995; Lee 1968). As population density increases, dependence on

terrestrial animals decreases such that there are no ethnographically documented

hunter-gatherers primarily dependent on hunting terrestrial animals beyond the

packing threshold of 9.1 persons/100 km2 (Binford 2001, p. 381). In environmental

settings where aquatic resources are abundant, hunter-gatherer dependence on

aquatic resources increases as population density increases. Kelly (1995, p. 72)

demonstrates the relationship between increasing dependence on aquatic resources

and less hunting than expected given effective temperature and primary produc-

tivity. Thus variation in the basic mix of subsistence domains among hunter-

gatherers is largely conditioned by effective temperature and population density

(Fig. 2). Access to aquatic resources is a third factor conditioning basic subsistence

options.

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This set of generalizations has implications not only for the basic mix of

subsistence strategies archaeologists should expect for hunter-gatherers in different

environmental settings, but also for how they should change over time if regional

population density generally increases. Johnson and Hard (2008) use this pattern as

the foundation for a theoretical model of the conditions under which hunter-

gatherers will intensify on plants and an exploration of when plant intensification

will and will not precipitate a transition to agriculture. Implications of this model

have been discussed with respect to the archaeological record of Texas (Johnson and

Hard 2008) and of west-central Argentina (Johnson et al. 2009).

This pattern of environmental and density-dependent variation in basic subsis-

tence is also correlated with quantities of food stored (Fig. 3) and type of housing

(Binford 1990). This basic pattern is further associated with variation in mobility,

social organization, and technology, all of which have implications for patterned

variation in the archaeological record.

Mobility

Few aspects of hunter-gatherer variation have received more cross-cultural

comparative attention than mobility (e.g., Binford 1980, 1982, 1990, 2001; Kelly

1983, 1995). There are several dimensions of mobility. Residential mobility during

an annual cycle can be measured by number of moves per year, distance per move,

and/or total distance moved per year; short-term mobility (annual cycle) can be

Table 1 Variation among recent hunter-gatherers along several dimensions documented in Binford’s

339-case hunter-gatherer data file

Variable Description Minimum Maximum Mean (n)

LATITUDE Latitude (decimal) 0.00 77.49 37.84 (338)

HUNTING % diet from hunting terrestrial animals 5.00 90.00 33.18 (338)

GATHERIN % diet from gathering terrestrial plants 0.01 90.30 34.53 (339)

FISHING % diet from aquatic resources 0.04 95.00 37.88 (290)

DENSITY Population density (people per 100 km2) 0.25 308.70 24.59 (339)

POLYG % males married to multiple women 0.10 57.00 13.87 (211)

GRP1 Mean size of smallest residential group 5.60 70.00 17.65 (227)

GRP2 Mean size of largest seasonal residential group 19.50 650.00 75.27 (297)

GRP3 Size of periodic regional camps 42.00 1,500.00 209.34 (216)

AREA Area occupied by ethnic group (km2) 80 660,000 38,875 (339)

TLPOP Ethnic unit size 23 14,500 1,671.12 (339)

NOMOV Number of annual residential moves 0.10 58.00 9.7 (261)

KMOV Distance moved annually in residential moves

(km)

0.02 917.13 250.37 (261)

KSPMOV Average distance per residential move (km) 0.16 73.28 24.61 (255)

MHS Mean household size (number of people) 2.50 40.00 8.30 (232)

MEANSZ Mean house size (diameter of circle [in

meters] with area equal to mean house area)

1.18 19.25 5.31 (206)

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further distinguished from long-term patterns of landscape use (see discussion in

Binford 1980, p. 19). Most comparative studies using ethnographic data focus on

short-term mobility because that is what is best documented given the time scale of

ethnographic observation.

Kelly (1983) demonstrates that the number of residential moves per year

generally increases with primary production (aquatic-dependent cases are the

exception) and that the average distance per residential move increases as effective

temperature decreases (exceptions either have horses for transport or are dependent

on aquatic resources or breathing-hole sealing). Following a modeling exercise,

Binford (2001, p. 242) generalizes: ‘‘As the abundance of food in a habitat

decreases, of necessity a group’s mobility increases. Other things being equal, it is

certain that greater net benefit is associated with small group sizes in food-poor

settings.’’ This generalization leads to the proposition that ‘‘the smallest groups and

the most consistent relationships between mobility and group size [are expected] to

occur among peoples living in low-productivity habitats’’ (Binford 2001, p. 242).

Fig. 2 Recent hunter-gatherer subsistence specialty (SUBSP) in property space defined by effectivetemperature (Y) and log 10 population density (X) using data from Binford’s 339-case hunter-gathererdata file. Horizontal lines mark Binford’s storage threshold (ET = 15.25) and terrestrial plant dependencethreshold (12.75). Vertical line marks Binford’s packing threshold (DENSITY = 9.1 persons per100 km2)

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In addition to the strong relationship between mobility and properties of the

environment, measures of mobility also are strongly correlated with population

density, such that both total distances moved annually and average distance per

residential move decrease as population density increases (Binford 2001, p. 312).

Storage of seasonally abundant resources is further recognized as a factor that can

reduce the importance of controlling group size to reduce mobility costs (Binford

2001, pp. 255–256).

Group size

Binford (2001) uses group-size variables throughout his demonstration of pattern-

recognition strategies using frames of reference. Binford distinguishes three scales

of group size. Here, I review patterning related only to Binford’s group 1 size, the

size of the smallest residential aggregations each year. Since minimizing group

size is important for minimizing mobility costs among residentially mobile

Fig. 3 Quantity of food stored by recent hunter-gatherers (QSTOR) in property space defined byeffective temperature (Y) and log 10 population density (X) using data from Binford’s 339-case hunter-gatherer data file. Horizontal lines mark Binford’s storage threshold (ET = 15.25) and terrestrial plantdependence threshold (12.75). Vertical line marks Binford’s packing threshold (DENSITY = 9.1 personsper 100 km2)

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hunter-gatherers, particularly where food storage is absent or minimal, group sizes

are generally smaller in low-productivity environments (where a group of any given

size would have to move more often) and where there is no storage. Group size

varies in regular ways with basic subsistence strategy and with political complexity

(Binford 2001, pp. 253–254). Patterns with subsistence strategy seem to be

mediated by the percent contribution of males to the diet such that as male

contribution to the diet increases, group size increases and then decreases beyond

values of either 50 % (terrestrial plant-dependent peoples) or 75 % (terrestrial

animal-, aquatic resources-dependent peoples) for male contribution to the diet

(Binford 2001, pp. 304–305). Given the strong environmental correlates of

subsistence dependence and, therefore, male division of labor, some patterning in

group size is also environmentally conditioned. Group size also responds to

intensification, as one common intensification strategy is to reduce group size as

adults increase labor effort (Binford 2001, p. 315). Regardless of subsistence

strategy, the smallest group sizes are seen at intermediate values of the total distance

that a group moved annually. Plant-dependent hunter-gatherers (primarily foragers)

have the smallest documented group 1 sizes (Binford 2001, pp. 244, 252, 275).

These groups exhibit what Binford refers to as a collapsed division of labor, where

adults work every day instead of every other day to get food.

Division of labor and polygyny

Subsistence procurement among ethnographically documented hunter-gatherers

ranges from 30 to 99 % male contribution to the diet. Numerous cross-cultural

studies have explored the relationships among latitude, subsistence, and division of

labor. Noted patterns include that as either dependence on sea mammals (Hiatt

1970, p. 7) or dependence on terrestrial animals (Murdock and Provost 1973, p. 208)

increases, male contribution to the diet also increases (Binford 2001, p. 301).

Binford (2001, p. 280) demonstrates that polygyny is highest where females make

the highest contribution to the diet, generally in groups that are primarily dependent

on either terrestrial plants or (non-sea mammal) aquatic resources.

Wealth differentiation and ranking

Instituted leadership is most often associated with subsistence strategies requiring

regular skilled performance (hunting terrestrial animals, some aquatic resource

procurement). Leadership prerogatives and class distinctions are not found among

hunter-gatherers that practice horticulture and are primarily dependent on terrestrial

plants (Binford 2001, p. 406). Secret societies and sodalities are associated with

large residential groups, whether or not they are sedentary (Binford 2001, p. 406).

Wealth differentiation can occur across levels of population density and among

hunter-gatherers of any basic subsistence strategy (Binford 2001, p. 426). Whereas

some wealth differentiation is non-density-dependent in contexts where it results

from ‘‘differences in the skill and consistency of individual performance among

those involved in food procurement’’ (Binford 2001, p. 427), it is also a density-

dependent phenomenon in settings where it is possible to ‘‘monopolize access to

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locations with productive resources by restricting access to them based on kinship

conventions’’ (Binford 2001, p. 427). Internally ranked hunter-gatherers are almost

entirely aquatic-dependent groups where resource production locations can be

monopolized by owners who are able to exclude or extract labor from nonowners

when resources are ready to be processed (Binford 2001, p. 432). Hunter-gatherers

with the highest population densities all have internal ranking (p. 425).

Thus, not only are ethnographically documented hunter-gatherers very often not

egalitarian, the forms of complexity represented vary from segmentation related to

scale of residential community (sodalities/secret societies) to internally ranked

societies based on unequal access to productive subsistence locales. Further, the

variation in these system states is related to environment through the distribution of

resources and skills required for basic subsistence strategies and to population

density through the development of differential access to resources that structures

wealth differentiation and ranking.

Although far from exhaustive, this sample of variation demonstrated among

recent hunter-gatherers at the global scale of analysis is sufficient for the purposes of

this review. Very different patterns are noted in studies with a regional scale of

analysis.

Regional scales of analysis

Regional studies of hunter-gatherer variation depend on having several ethno-

graphically well-documented groups with similar subsistence patterns within a

region. There are relatively few regions in the world where this kind of variation is

ethnographically documented among hunter-gatherers. However, it could be argued

that studies at this scale would be more relevant to most archaeological

investigations of variation among ancient hunter-gatherers than studies at the

global scale.

Steward’s study of hunter-gatherer variation in the Great Basin (Steward 1938) is

a good early example of a regional study of variation that has contributed

productively to archaeological analysis in the region for several decades (e.g.,

Thomas 1973, 1983; Zeanah 2002; Zeanah and Simms 1999). A comparatively

recent example is Cashdan’s (1983) exploration of how ecological models of

territoriality relate to ethnographic data from across the Kalahari. In this study,

Cashdan notes that the expectations of ecological models of territoriality developed

at a global scale of comparison (Dyson-Hudson and Smith 1978) do not predict the

patterning observed in the Kalahari region (Cashdan 1983, p. 47).

Cashdan explores social boundary defense as a form of territory maintenance

qualitatively distinct from (and with lower maintenance costs than) perimeter

defense (Cashdan 1983, pp. 49–51). Her exploration demonstrates that the

ethnography of the Kalahari is consistent with social boundary defense of territories

and that evidence suggests that within the Kalahari there is greater territoriality

where resources (both food and water) are more scarce (among the !Ko) rather than

where they are most abundant (among the !Kung and Nharo). Although the greatest

impact of this study has been in refining ideas about the ways territorial boundaries

can be maintained when perimeter defense is not feasible, the pattern of variation in

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territory size across the Kalahari also is of interest and likely relevant well beyond

this region.

The larger lesson is that we see different patterns of variation at the regional scale

(where some variation is constrained by location within the same general region of the

world) compared to those at the global scale. Neither is the ‘‘correct’’ scale for analysis—

both are necessary to understand patterning in ethnographic or archaeological records.

The next section discusses the importance of the scale of analysis for integrating

ethnographic and archaeological studies of variation among hunter-gatherers.

Scales of analysis of hunter-gatherer variation

Although archaeological and ethnographic studies of variation among prehistoric

and recent hunter-gatherers are certainly complementary, they are often conducted

at very different spatial and temporal scales of analysis. Cross-cultural studies of

variation among recent hunter-gatherers are often organized at a global scale, while

there are only a few studies organized at a regional scale. Archaeological studies of

hunter-gatherer adaptations are most often organized at a local scale, while there are

increasing examples organized at a regional scale. The scale of analysis changes not

only the relevant dimensions of variation and their ranges of variation but also the

relationships between resource structure, demographic parameters, and social

organization. Thus patterns discovered at one scale of analysis are not uniformly

applicable at other (smaller or larger) scales (see, e.g., Johnson 2004). Learning

which patterns do and which do not translate across scales is of interest for future

research but, in the short term, introduces a methodological challenge for

archaeologists learning to use ethnographic generalizations productively in research.

Here, I propose a hierarchical strategy for developing expectations for variation

among prehistoric hunter-gatherers that can both situate the research locale with

respect to global patterns of variation and acknowledge important dimensions of

variation in habitat structure that are likely to condition regional variation in hunter-

gatherer mobility, subsistence, and social organization. Such a strategy should allow

us to develop some very specific expectations for the spatial and temporal patterns of

variation among prehistoric hunter-gatherers and put existing studies of ethnograph-

ically documented hunter-gatherers to more productive use than is often done.

Expectations for variation among prehistoric hunter-gatherers

The patterns established in the analysis of variation among recent hunter-gatherers

are not expected to mirror archaeological ranges of variation, but they are expected

to provide a useful frame of reference for probing dimensions and structure of

variation in the archaeological record. Developing methods for using patterns

documented among recent hunter-gatherers to learn about their similarities to and

differences from prehistoric hunter-gatherers will be a key strategy in maximizing

the learning potential of archaeological research at various scales of analysis. The

initial proposition Binford (2001, p. 50) makes is:

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Good science consists of strategically using prior knowledge to make

projections from better-known domains to less well-known domains. When

observations on the less well-known phenomena are inconsistent with our

projections, this is an important clue to the way in which the world may have

been different from our conception of it. When ideas that we have considered

germane are shown to be irrelevant, or at least poorly conceived relative to the

way the world is organized, an opportunity for learning has been identified.

The challenge here is to strategically use what we have learned from

ethnographic studies of hunter-gatherer variation to ask productive questions of

the archaeological record that focus on learning about how the past was different

from the ethnographic present, rather than using the ethnographic record to interpret

the past in a way that does not allow us to test the limits of what we think we know.

Given the enormous investment in global comparative studies to develop our

knowledge of patterns of variation among hunter-gatherers and the strong

relationships among many features of hunter-gatherer subsistence, settlement,

technology, and social organization to very basic properties of the environment

(especially effective temperature and access to aquatic resources) and to population

density, it should be productive to situate archaeological studies of hunter-gatherers

with respect to these existing environmental and hunter-gatherer frames of

reference.

Situating study regions with respect to the environmental frames of reference is

simple. Anywhere we have the combination of basic weather station records and

some geographic knowledge, we can calculate Binford’s environmental frame of

reference (described in Binford 2001; also a Java program: Binford and Johnson

2006). Although modern weather station data will not be accurate for much of the

archaeological record, the combination of knowing how the region is expected to

pattern in the present and knowledge of likely climate patterns in the past makes it

possible to model the past in such a way that environmental and hunter-gatherer

frames of reference could be calculated (for a case-specific model, see Johnson

2002; for a general-modeling approach, see Johnson 2008). The better the

reconstruction of past climates in a region, the easier and more productive this

strategy could be for archaeologists who would find it useful to know what would be

expected if past hunter-gatherers were organized with respect to the environment

like recent hunter-gatherers. The goal should be to test how well projections

anticipate past patterns rather than using what we think we know of the present to

interpret what the past was like. We should be looking for differences, for these

represent our learning opportunities.

This review of global-scale generalizations regarding hunter-gatherer variation

reveals several key dimensions that should guide the development of expectations

for patterns of both geographic variation and temporal change among archaeolog-

ically known hunter-gatherers. Effective temperature (Fig. 4) is a key environmen-

tal variable conditioning subsistence specialty, dependence on storage, and, through

these, several aspects of mobility and social organization. Availability of aquatic

resources provides opportunities for hunter-gatherers to diversify and intensify diets

based on wild foods. Combining data from individual weather station locations for

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effective temperature (ET; using Binford’s storage threshold, ET = 15.25, and plant

dependence threshold, ET = 12.75) and projected hunter-gatherer dependence on

aquatic resources at the packing threshold (D1PFISHP, using D1PFISHP C 30 to

mark a good aquatic intensification option) makes it possible to map regions that are

expected to have different initial subsistence and intensification options (Fig. 5).

Hunter-gatherers inhabiting regions with an ET \ 15.25 are expected to need some

food storage, even at very low population densities, whereas those above this value are

expected to add significant food storage only as an intensification response to

increasing population densities. Hunter-gatherers inhabiting regions with ET [ 12.75

could have been dominantly dependent on plants, whereas hunter-gatherers in regions

with lower effective temperatures are expected to be dominantly dependent on

terrestrial animals or aquatic resources. In all effective temperature zones, regions

with productive aquatic resources are expected to have very different intensification

trajectories than those without a good aquatic resource option, including longer

periods as intensified hunter-gatherers and greater likelihood of developing internal

ranking. Figure 5 maps six intensification patterns based on three zones of effective

temperature and presence or absence of a good aquatic resource option. The first two

are in relatively low-latitude regions with year-round growing seasons where hunter-

gatherers would not have needed long-term food storage except at relatively high

population densities. Where there is a good aquatic resource option (pattern 1, where

ET [ 15.25 and D1PFISHP C 30), hunter-gatherers are expected to be dominantly

dependent on gathering but may intensify on both plants and aquatic resources as

population densities rise. Warm ambient temperatures pose a problem for storing

aquatic resources due to rapid spoilage, so where both options are available, there may

be internal differentiation in subsistence focus leading to more complex ethnic

interactions in the region (e.g., Binford 2004). Where there is not a good aquatic

resource option (pattern 2, where ET [ 15.25 and D1PFISHP \ 30), hunter-gatherers

are expected to be dominantly dependent on gathering and to intensify on plants as the

population density increases.

Fig. 4 Map of the world showing zones based on Binford’s effective temperature thresholds marking thestorage threshold (ET = 15.25) and the terrestrial plant dependence threshold (12.75)

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In the mid-latitudes there is a zone between the storage threshold and the plant-

dependence threshold where hunter-gatherers could be mostly dependent on plants

but would need some storage, even at low population densities. The next two

intensification patterns fall in this zone. Where there is a good aquatic resource

option (pattern 3, where 12.75 B ET \ 15.25 and D1PFISHP C 30), hunter-

gatherers have the most varied subsistence options. Wealth differentiation and

internal ranking may develop among hunter-gatherers in this setting, but having a

plant-intensification option would limit the degree of control that could be imposed

by those who controlled access to aquatic resource locations. Where there are not

good aquatic resource options (pattern 4, where 12.75 B ET \ 15.25 and

D1PFISHP \ 30), hunter-gatherers may have initial subsistence focused on either

terrestrial plants or terrestrial animals, but as densities increase, the only good

option for intensification is on plants, and the need to accumulate food in storage

over winter creates conditions that seem to support an early transition to horticulture

as intensification on plants with seeds that can be stored easily leads to increased

effort in cultivation.

At higher latitudes, growing seasons are too short for hunter-gatherers to be

dominantly dependent on plants (though it is possible for horticulture to move into

Fig. 5 Map of the world showing zones based on expected intensification patterns based on thecombination of Binford’s effective temperature thresholds (storage needed where ET C 15.25 �C; plantdependence possible where ET \ 12.75 �C) and availability of aquatic resources sufficient for these to bean intensification option. Pattern 1 marks high ranges of ET where mobile hunter-gatherers need nostorage, could be mostly dependent on terrestrial plants, and aquatic resources are an intensificationoption. Pattern 2 marks ranges of ET where mobile hunter-gatherers need no storage, could be mostlydependent on plants, and aquatic resources are not an intensification option, so terrestrial plants are theonly intensification option. Pattern 3 marks middle ranges of ET where mobile hunter-gatherers do needstorage, could be mostly dependent on terrestrial plants, and aquatic resources are an intensificationoption. Pattern 4 marks middle ranges of ET where mobile hunter-gatherers do need storage, could bemostly dependent on terrestrial plants, and aquatic resources are not an intensification option, soterrestrial plants are the only intensification option. Pattern 5 marks low ranges of ET where mobilehunter-gatherers would need substantial storage, could not be mostly dependent on terrestrial plants, soaquatic resources are the only intensification option. Pattern 6 marks low ranges of ET where mobilehunter-gatherers would need substantial storage, could not be mostly dependent on terrestrial plants, andaquatic resources are not an intensification option, so there are no good intensification options

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some of this region), and hunter-gatherers need substantial storage, even at low

population densities, that may increase to massive storage at higher densities. The final

two intensification patterns are in these high-latitude regions. Where there are good

aquatic resource options (pattern 5, where ET \ 12.75 and D1PFISHP C 30), hunter-

gatherers who were dominantly dependent on terrestrial animals at low population

densities can intensify on aquatic resources as population densities grow. [In a few

very-high-latitude settings like the Arctic coast, even low-density hunter-gatherers are

dominantly dependent on aquatic resources.] Wealth differentiation and internal

ranking are most likely to develop among hunter-gatherers in these settings because

access to aquatic resources are localized and relatively easy to defend, cool ambient

temperatures make it possible to process and store these resources without rapid

spoilage, and there is no good plant-intensification alternative for those without direct

access to aquatic resources. In higher latitudes where there are no good aquatic

resource options (pattern 6, ET \ 12.75 and D1PFISHP C 30), hunter-gatherers are

expected to be dependent mostly on terrestrial animals. Without a good option for

intensifying either plants or aquatic resources, these regions are not expected to

support intensification trajectories among hunter-gatherers. It is possible hunter-

gatherers with growing population densities would begin managing wild animal

populations, leading to relatively early investment in herding.

These six conditions establish expectations for the pattern of intensification but

do not inform us about the relative pace of change. Following the logic developed

by Johnson and Hard (2008), regions with higher modeled reproductive rates

(Fig. 6) should exhibit greater rates of change over time in the archaeological record

compared with regions with lower modeled reproductive rates since density-

dependent aspects of adaptive strategies should change more rapidly if populations

are able to grow more quickly. By combining expectations for the pace and the

pattern of intensification, it becomes easy to develop specific, testable propositions

regarding the structure of variation and change over time in the portion of the

archaeological record representing hunter-gatherer adaptations. Having mapped

Fig. 6 Map of the world showing modeled reproductive rate based on Binford’s environmental frames ofreference following modeling strategy presented in Johnson and Hard (2008)

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expectations for variation in subsistence and intensification options using thresholds

empirically derived from macroscale cross-cultural ethnographic data in this

section, I next turn to patterns identified by archaeologists for variation among

prehistoric hunter-gatherers.

Variation among prehistoric hunter-gatherers

Prehistoric hunter-gatherers are archaeologically documented in environments

ranging from tropical rain forests to the Arctic—and nearly everywhere archaeol-

ogists have looked in between. Research questions vary greatly by region and by the

state of knowledge of the hunter-gatherer portion of the archaeological record. As

archaeologists begin to work on hunter-gatherer archaeology in a region, questions

generally focus on either the peopling of particular regions (e.g., for high latitudes

and the Arctic: Hoffecker 2002, 2005; for tropical rain forests: Mercader 2003) or

on the transition from hunting and gathering to agriculture (e.g., for North Africa: di

Lernia and Manzi 1998; for southwestern North America: Vierra 2005). As hunter-

gatherer archaeology across a region becomes better documented, there is greater

focus on the structure of variation in subsistence, social organization, mobility

patterns, social complexity, and many other dimensions of hunter-gatherer

adaptations (e.g., for Europe: Bailey and Spikins 2008; for the North Pacific Rim:

Habu et al. 2003; for Australia: Hiscock 2008; for southeastern North America:

Sassaman and Anderson 1996b; for an attempt to synthesize Paleo-Indian

subsistence in North America: Walker and Driskell 2007). This section provides

a broad (and selective) overview of what is known about prehistoric variation

among hunter-gatherers.

Peopling the world

There is significant interest in hunter-gatherer archaeology related to the coloni-

zation of previously unoccupied spaces and particularly how this reflects upon

behavioral capabilities of the colonizers. Colonization of northern latitudes in

Eurasia (Hoffecker 2002, 2005) and Australia by 45,000 years ago (Balme et al.

2009; Davidson 2010) and perhaps as early as 60,000 years ago (for a good recent

summary/critique of the evidence, see Hiscock 2008, pp. 20–44), the initial

colonization of the Americas sometime before 12,500 years ago (for a good recent

summary/critique of the evidence, see Meltzer 2009), and the hunter-gatherer

reoccupation of northern Europe following the retreat of glaciers after 13,500 years

ago (see Bailey and Spikins 2008 and papers therein) attract considerable research

attention among archaeologists.

In addition to questions about the peopling of whole continents, hunter-gatherer

archaeology often addresses the occupation of what anthropologists judge to be

particularly challenging environments. Hoffecker’s (2002, 2005) focus on occupa-

tion in the very cold, dry environment of the Eastern European Plain and in the

Arctic is significant because the development of his stages of colonization focus on

when hominins had the ability to adapt to increasingly cool or cold environments

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(30� latitude to Arctic) and the archaeological evidence for how Neanderthals and

modern humans differ in their use of fire, shelter, and clothing as well as in social

organization and mobility patterns (Hoffecker 2002).

The technological capabilities of modern humans combined with climate

warming after 20,000 years ago are argued to have made it possible for hunter-

gatherers to occupy Eurasia north of 60� latitude and therefore enter Siberia and

western Beringia, from where they entered North America (Hoffecker 2005, p. 96).

Thus the challenge of extreme cold is met by the ingenuity and technological

abilities of hunter-gatherers.

A different kind of challenge has been used to argue that hunter-gatherers could

not have occupied tropical forests until after the advent of horticulture because the

resources available in these forests are particularly lacking wild (accessible)

carbohydrates (e.g., Bailey et al. 1989; Bailey and Headland 1991). This argument

has been thoroughly refuted through archaeological demonstration of hunter-

gatherer occupation in a range of tropical forest environments from the Pleistocene,

well before horticulture entered these habitats (Mercader 2003 and papers therein).

However, archaeological exploration of hunter-gatherer variation in these settings is

not yet developed to the point of being able to note organizational differences in the

way hunter-gatherers used these environments before and after horticulture was

present in the region.

In the regions/time periods where the primary archaeological interest is in the

timing of the peopling of the region, archaeological discussions generally center on

(1) what constitutes evidence of human occupation, (2) the reliability of dating

techniques, and (3) the association of dated materials with evidence for human

occupation. Although resolving these issues produces valuable information, it does

not serve our interest in variation among prehistoric hunter-gatherers, as the earliest

archaeological record in a region (at present) is generally too poorly known to admit

regional comparison of distinct strategies.

Transition to agriculture

As with the peopling of a region, hunter-gatherer archaeology that focuses on the

problem of the transition to agriculture is valuable for addressing questions

regarding the transformation of subsistence economies—but the focus is almost

always on becoming horticultural by looking for ‘‘preadaptation’’ (sedentary

communities, storage facilities, intensive plant processing, prey selection implying

tended herds), not on the variation among prehistoric hunter-gatherers that provided

the different initial conditions for this transition across a broad region (e.g., for

Africa: Clark and Brandt 1984; for Europe: Price 2000; for global survey: Price and

Gebauer 1995). Interest in the late Archaic in the North American Southwest falls

largely in this category (Vierra 2005). Relatively little is known about early or

middle Archaic across the Southwest because the possible development of cultigens

in the late Archaic has attracted most of the attention among researchers pursuing

hunter-gatherer archaeology in the region, though Hunter-Anderson (2009) is a

notable exception. As in other regions where transition to agriculture is a topic of

interest, the arguments are primarily about the timing of early cultivation and

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increasing economic reliance on cultivated resources and on whether domesticates

are locally developed or introduced through migration or trade. Since the focus of

this paper is on variation among prehistoric hunter-gatherers (and since so much

attention is paid to the transition to agriculture elsewhere), I do not explore this area

of research in hunter-gatherer archaeology further here.

Global patterns from regional studies of hunter-gatherer archaeology

There are now several regions of the world for which the archaeological record of

prehistoric hunter-gatherers is sufficiently well known to allow regional-scale

documentation of variation in their adaptations. This section provides a broad

overview of regional variation in prehistoric hunter-gatherer adaptations in Europe,

eastern North America, Australia, and Patagonia. Of these regions, Europe and

eastern North America stand out as areas where the archaeological record is the

primary source of knowledge about hunter-gatherer adaptations, whereas both of the

other regions have ethnographically documented hunter-gatherers, knowledge of

which has been used to inform archaeological research on prehistoric hunter-

gatherer adaptations.

Europe

Upper Paleolithic and Mesolithic periods represent changing hunter-gatherer

adaptations as modern humans occupied Europe during the last glacial and the

subsequent warming. Whereas much of the focus of Upper Paleolithic research is on

the initial modern human peopling of Europe between 45,000 and 25,000 years ago

and on characteristics that distinguish prehistoric modern human hunter-gatherer

adaptations from previous occupation by Neanderthals, Bicho and Haws (2008)

argue that marine resources were a regular part of the diet of hunter-gatherers along

the coast of Portugal by 30,000 years ago. The focus of Mesolithic research has

been on the peopling of northern Europe following the retreat of glaciers after

13,500 years ago and, more recently, on documenting the range of variation in

hunter-gatherer societies across this region. Because rising sea levels have mostly

drowned any sites that may have been along the coast, most of the early evidence is

for interior hunting adaptations (especially horse and reindeer), whereas evidence

for marine resource use is slightly later (see Bailey 2008, pp. 364–367 for a full

discussion of the problem of differential site visibility).

Much of the variation in hunter-gatherer adaptations across this region appears

related to (1) environmental variation and change over time as both the available

terrestrial landscape and the plants and animals occupying it change dramatically

through the glacial cycle and warming in the Holocene, and (2) geographic

distribution and accessibility of aquatic versus terrestrial resources (Bailey 2008;

Spikins 2008). Variation in subsistence relates to the structure of resources in each

particular region, ranging from the combination of pigs, nuts, and fish in the north to

the combination of goats, cereals, and fish in the Levant (Bailey 2008, p. 363).

Further, archaeologists working in this region have documented variation in

system states in line with expectations from global studies of contemporary

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hunter-gatherers with fairly complex, sedentary villages in maritime or lakeside

environments, whereas there is ‘‘scarce evidence for occupation’’ in interior regions

where forest hunting is the dominant subsistence strategy (Spikins 2008, p. 9).

Eastern North America

Like Europe, eastern North America was inhabited almost entirely by horticultural

groups before ethnographic groups began to be recorded, leaving most of what we

know about variation among prehistoric hunter-gatherers to the archaeological record

of the early to mid-Holocene, or Archaic, period. Two recent syntheses focusing on the

Southeast (Sassaman and Anderson 1996b) and the Midcontinent (Emerson et al.

2009) of North America inform this overview. Based on standardized analyses of

archaeological information recorded in state site files across the Southeast, Anderson

(1996, p. 176) recognizes variation in the mobility patterns and scales of social

complexity during the Archaic across the Southeast such that there were ‘‘complex,

riverine-focused occupations along some major river drainages of the Midsouth,

possibly with territorial buffers as well as less complex systems in intervening areas,’’

indicative of foragers with low social complexity and high mobility in interior upland

and piedmont areas. Archaeological evidence in the Midwest suggests an early (as

early as 10,000 BC) focus on riverine resources, especially where mussels are

available (McElrath and Emerson 2009, pp. 842–848), and at least by the mid-

Holocene widespread settlement along Atlantic and Gulf Coasts in the Southeast in

‘‘some of the most permanent, sedentary societies of the time’’ (Russo 1996, p. 178).

Large cemeteries, mound complexes, and regional exchange networks were variably

present across the region by 6000 BP (Gibson 1996; Jeffries 1996), suggesting that

there were strong territorial claims and restricted access to resources, particularly

along the major river drainages.

As in Europe, the accumulated knowledge of hunter-gatherer adaptations from

the archaeological record is a good match for basic expectations about the structure

of variation in subsistence and system state based on global comparative studies of

recent hunter-gatherers. Most of the variation in subsistence is related to the

seasonality of terrestrial plants and the presence or absence of reliable aquatic

resources. Larger settlements with more complex social organization are associated

with availability of aquatic resources. In the archaeological record of both regions,

there is a regular pattern of intensification in hunter-gatherer adaptations that led,

eventually, to a transition to agriculture.

Australia

In contrast to both Europe and eastern North America, Australia was populated by

hunter-gatherers at the time of European colonization. Knowledge of historic

hunter-gatherers has regularly been used, often through simple analogy, to interpret

the archaeological record. Contemporary Australian archaeology seeks to distance

itself from the simplified use of the ethnographic record. Hiscock (2008) presents a

comprehensive overview of the intellectual history of Australian archaeology that

both critiques ideas that have played a large role in the interpretation of archaeology

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in the continent (including use of simple ethnographic analogy) and presents an

overview of the contemporary state of knowledge about Australian prehistory. The

pattern emphasized throughout is that Australian prehistory is characterized by

regional diversity in adaptations and by significant, but not necessarily directional,

change over time (Hiscock 2008, pp. 243–244; Holdaway et al. 2008).

Hiscock (2008, pp. 145–161) surveys Holocene adaptations through a continental

review of technological change and then for three broad physiographic regions: the

coast, inland areas, and the arid zone. The focus throughout is on local environmental

variation structuring local adaptations. From at least the early Holocene, coastal

regions (Hiscock 2008, pp. 162–181) are shown to vary in the mix of terrestrial and

marine resources as well as in the strategies employed for exploiting marine resources

(deep-sea fishing, reef-focused exploitation, mollusk harvesting, hunting marine

mammals/birds on small islands off the coast). In places, an early, specialized deep-

sea-hunting strategy seems to have been replaced by a broad-spectrum strategy in the

late Holocene. Although Hiscock is not entirely convinced by their arguments, several

archaeologists working in northern Australia use evidence from changes in the

regional distribution of rock-art imagery to argue for increased regionalization during

the late Holocene, perhaps indicating increased territoriality (Barker 2004; David

2002, 2006; Hiscock 2008, p. 255; McDonald and Veth 2006; Veth 2006).

In the southeastern wetlands (Hiscock 2008, pp. 182–189), excavations have

yielded evidence of stone walls and excavated channels that may have been used as

fish and/or eel traps (pp. 186–187), and of low mounds that may have encouraged

growth of a local yam species (p. 189). Although these strategies are not

unambiguously limited to the late Holocene archaeological record (re: traps p. 186,

re: mounds p. 189), they do seem to represent a pattern of intensification of resource

use in the region over time. This region falls below the 15.25 ET storage threshold

(Fig. 4) and is, therefore, the only part of the Australian continent in which hunter-

gatherers are expected to need to store food.

Across the central arid zone (Hiscock 2008, pp. 199–218), the archaeological

record suggests local variation in subsistence strategies, mobility patterns, and

social organization structured by local rainfall patterns and resource structure. It

appears that most subsistence resources were used throughout human occupation of

this region (perhaps 10,000 or more years), so that change over time is related more

to fluctuation in the environment and human populations than to directional change

over time (p. 218). This contemporary understanding of the archaeological record of

Australia suggests diversity across environments, challenges interpretations based

on continent-wide patterns of intensification through time, and emphasizes cultural

transformations that limit the utility of simple analogy with ethnographically

documented Aboriginal adaptations.

Patagonia

Patagonia includes both coastal and inland desert areas of southernmost Argentina

and Chile. Although the archaeological investigation of this region is relatively

recent compared with the areas reviewed above, archaeologists are making great

progress in learning about variation in subsistence strategies and regional

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populations. Once thought to be a region characterized by transhumance between

the interior and the coast, stable isotope studies of human remains have shown that

there were distinctly different subsistence strategies for coastal and interior

populations, and DNA studies are beginning to isolate variants that seem to mark

regionally distinct breeding populations (Goni 2010; Goni and Barrientos 2004;

Moraga et al. 2009; Morales et al. 2009; Tessone et al. 2009). Like Australia, the

interior is sparsely populated and particular areas exhibit a fluctuating pattern of

occupation through the Holocene.

Growing knowledge of the archaeological record of prehistoric hunter-gatherers

has led researchers in many parts of the world to a conclusion that is well stated by

Sassaman and Anderson (1996a, p. xix):

It is no longer feasible to characterize Archaic hunter-gatherers in generalized

terms; variation is what characterizes the record of their existence, and it is

variation that we must explain. Changes in our scales of analysis—from site-

specific to regional, from synchronic to diachronic—will allow different

perspectives on variation, so it is essential that detailed site analyses continue

alongside macroscale comparative studies.

How can contemporary environmental and ethnographic frames of reference

from macroscale studies contribute to the development of knowledge of prehistoric

hunter-gatherer adaptations by archaeologists working at local to regional scales?

The next section explores a few examples.

Exploring archaeological variation with frames of reference

There are a number of examples in hunter-gatherer archaeology that can be used to

demonstrate productive learning strategies using environmental and ethnographic

frames of reference. In some, patterns from the study of contemporary hunter-

gatherers are used productively to inform questions in the archaeological record. In

others, archaeological patterns are used productively to question generalizations

from cross-cultural pattern recognition and add to our knowledge of the conditions

under which these generalizations hold.

Comparing human and Neanderthal adaptations

Three recently published examples (Binford 2007; Hoffecker 2002; Wales 2012)

use global environmental and hunter-gatherer frames of reference to explore the

difference between Neanderthal and human adaptations in similar environments. All

use macroscale cross-cultural comparative data on modern hunter-gatherer strate-

gies as a frame of reference for comparing Neanderthal and modern human

behavior. Hoffecker’s focus is on mobility and technology; Binford’s focus is on

diet and details of hunting strategies, with particular emphasis on comparison to

ethnographically documented strategies among Arctic hunters; Wales’s focus is on

type of clothing and amount of the body that would be expected to be covered.

Among the patterns Binford recognizes is that, during the peak cold and peak wet

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periods of Neanderthal occupation of Combe Grenal, the hunting strategy focused

on reliable returns over optimal prey choice, a strategy more like wolves than

modern human hunters (Binford 2007, pp. 204–213).

Hoffecker (2002, pp. 132–137) has productively used patterns of the relation-

ships between environmental setting and subsistence, mobility (Kelly 1995), and

technology (Oswalt 1976) to probe differences in strategies represented in the

archaeological record of Neanderthals and what would be expected of recent hunter-

gatherers on the Eastern European Plain. His discussion highlights both the

similarity in diet between Neanderthals and recent hunter-gatherers in similar

environmental settings (high dependence on meat from terrestrial animals) and the

differences in technological complexity and mobility (Neanderthals with fewer

complex tools and smaller range sizes than expected of recent hunter-gatherers).

Wales (2012) uses models based on data collected from ethnographically

documented hunter-gatherers combined with paleoclimatic reconstructions to show

that the regional distribution of Neanderthals was limited to places where they

would not have needed tailored clothing to survive, whereas modern human

distributions included areas where they would have had to depend on their tailored

clothing to keep warm.

Similarly structured research could productively inform discussions about the

transition to modern human behavior in different environmental settings. We know

enough not to expect the transition to look the same in southern Africa, eastern

Africa, or the Near East, but I do not know of similar studies that have tried to

isolate the dimensions of differentiation in adaptation using what would be expected

using knowledge of recent hunter-gatherers to represent likely modern human

adaptations.

Sedentary hunters?

Where the archaeological record suggests a pattern of hunter-gatherer organization

that is not ethnographically documented, exploring the environmental frames of

reference may suggest a likely reason. Unlike arguments based on the unique

characteristics of particular places, reference to standard measures of dimensions of

environmental variation makes it possible to anticipate where else in the world similar

adaptations might be found, thus making it possible to test new ideas. Rick (1980)

reports well-documented archaeological excavations from preceramic sites in the high

puna of the Peruvian Andes. In part III of that volume, Rick explores the implications

developed from the archaeological exploration of this region: (1) ‘‘vicuna exploitation

affected the placement of almost all sites’’ (p. 266), (2) occupation through ‘‘a wide

range of seasons is indicated in the floral and faunal remains [and] …[n]o reason exists

for abandoning the puna during any season’’ (p. 270), and (3) occupation in base camp

sites was relatively sedentary based on patterns of site maintenance and proportions of

artifacts from regional survey that were found in the primary site (pp. 290–291). His

careful analysis is coupled with exploration of global patterns in hunter-gatherer

adaptations that existed at the time. Rick is very much aware that the sedentary, year-

round occupation of the puna is not what would be expected based on patterns among

ethnographically documented hunting-dependent peoples. Binford (2004 personal

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communication) admits being skeptical of Rick’s interpretation, despite the care he

took with his analysis. Patterning among the ethnographically documented hunter-

gatherers led Binford (2001, p. 222) to propose: ‘‘Groups of sedentary persons who are

dependent upon terrestrial animals for subsistence are very rare indeed. In fact, it could

be argued that, based on the available data, it is not likely that any cases of sedentary

persons who are predominantly dependent upon undomesticated terrestrial animals

would occur.’’

Clearly, the Peruvian Andes are an unusual environment—high altitude, cold and

dry (making long-term storage of meat relatively easy), but with year-round

growing seasons (because of proximity to the equator) and highly territorial prey.

How can situating this archaeological study in the context of Binford’s environ-

mental frame of reference help us understand the context of this unusual adaptation

when Binford would not have anticipated it based on his extensive knowledge of

hunter-gatherer variation? One of the tools Binford (2001, pp. 187–188) developed

is the terrestrial model. The terrestrial model is a simple calculation of the

abundance and accessibility of terrestrial resources in a habitat. It is based directly

on calculated expected primary productivity and projected expected prey biomass

(see Binford 2001, pp. 175–180 for how these are calculated). The terrestrial model

calculates the number of people per 100 km2 who could be supported by terrestrial

plants and the number of people per 100 km2 who could be supported by terrestrial

animals. The sum of these measures yields a model population density that could be

supported based on wild resources with no significant technological innovation.

These are not expected to be accurate estimates of carrying capacity for modern

human hunter-gatherers who can be expected to use innovative technology and

social organization to increase return over such a simple model. However, it is a

useful way to standardize a minimum estimate of carrying capacity based solely on

terrestrial resources.

Using Binford’s environmental frames of reference calculated for world weather

stations (W1429 file), there are three Peruvian weather stations that are at high

altitude (Cajamarca, Cusco, and Puno are all above 8,500 ft) and relevant for this

discussion. Table 2 reports the relevant components of the terrestrial model for

these contemporary weather stations. For each, hunting is expected to be the greatest

portion of the diet and the total terrestrial-model density is near the packing

Table 2 Terrestrial model values for three high-altitude weather stations in Peru from Binford’s 1,429-

case world weather station file run through EnvCalc2 Aug 2006 Java version (Binford and Johnson 2006)

Location Terrestrial model value for people

per 100 km2 supported by:

Summary terrestrial model

value for:

Weather

station

Elevation

(m)

Terrestrial

animals

[TERMH2]

Terrestrial

plants

[TERMG2]

Population

density

[TERMD2]

Subsistence

specialty

[SUBSPX]

CAJAMARCA 2,620.37 5.42 2.60 8.02 Hunting

CUZCO 3,364.08 5.48 1.81 7.29 Hunting

PUNO 3,851.15 4.94 0.43 5.37 Hunting

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threshold. Each of these locations has a value of 4 for the ordinal variable based on

terrestrial-model density. Less than 20 % of the weather stations in this file, which

were selected as a proportional representation of Earth’s biomes, have terrestrial-

model values at or above the level seen in the high altitudes in Peru. Of these, only

62, or about 4 %, of the weather stations in this file have a terrestrial-model density

greater than 5 people per 100 km2 and terrestrial-model subsistence mostly

dependent on hunting terrestrial animals. Most of these locations are in southern or

east Africa or in the Andes from the northwest corner of Argentina north through

Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia.

Through exploration of Binford’s environmental frames of reference, we learn

that the Peruvian puna is one of the few spots in the world where the terrestrial-

model density is very close to the packing threshold (9.1 people per 100 km2;

Binford 2001, p. 239), suggesting that the productivity of this environment could

sustain a year-round, relatively sedentary population without much obvious

intensification. This exploration lends support to Rick’s (1980) conclusions and

suggests a method for identifying other regions of the world where similar

conditions are expected to prevail, opening the door to broader-scale comparative

work focused on the archaeological record and inviting the possibility of testing

hypotheses developed inductively in one region against data collected in another

with similar key properties.

Refining expectations for variation within a region

Since patterning (particularly with environmental variables) is sensitive to scale of

analysis (particularly range of variation included; Johnson 2004), it is important to

develop expectations for patterning on regional as well as global scales. Whereas

there may be big differences in the particular structure of resources that establish

conditions for adaptive variation on the part of local hunter-gatherers, it is possible

that there are some abstract measures, such as potential subsistence diversity

(Johnson 2004) that regularly relate to patterns of intensification and transition from

hunting-gathering to agriculture on a regional scale that are not as relevant to these

patterns on a global scale.

Southwestern United States and Great Basin

Across the southwestern United States, locales with higher projected hunter-

gatherer subsistence diversity began to incorporate cultigens (especially early

maize) earlier, but those locales with lower projected hunter-gatherer subsistence

diversity shifted to fully horticultural adaptations earlier. Within this region, there is

little projected dietary dependence on aquatic resources, so settings with low

subsistence diversity are in areas where hunter-gatherers are expected to be

dependent mostly on terrestrial animals or terrestrial plants. It is as yet unknown

whether this pattern holds in regions beyond the southwestern United States, where

the idea was first developed (Johnson 1997, 2004), but the possibility deserves

further testing. Given the importance of aquatic resource use in global comparison

of archaeological sequence patterns (Johnson 2004), it would not be surprising if

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this pattern fails in settings with low subsistence diversity where hunter-gatherers

are projected to be mostly dependent on aquatic resources.

To fully develop expectations for archaeological variation at the regional scale, it

also is necessary to develop some frames of reference that are relevant only in

particular regions. For example, Zeanah (2002) develops detailed knowledge of the

structure of variation in pinon abundance and productivity and access points for

other economically important plants as a frame of reference to predict settlement

pattern variation within the Great Basin. His analysis considers processing and

transport costs of particular resources as well as their geographic distributions.

Whereas his particular frame of reference is region-specific, a similar strategy could

be productive in any region.

This research grew out of the frustration that Great Basin archaeologists

experienced applying global-scale generalizations about the conditions under which

hunter-gatherers would focus more on foraging or collecting (Binford 1980) to a

region where both the archaeological and ethnographic records indicated there was

regional variation in these strategies that were not accounted for in the global

generalization (Zeanah 2002, pp. 231–232). In this case the realization that a global

generalization based in macroecological cross-cultural pattern recognition was

insufficient to explain regional variation prompted further learning through the

development of regional research from a behavioral ecology approach.

Regions with aquatic resources

Some expectations for regional variation are straightforward given the redundant

patterning in archaeological and ethnographic studies. One of these is that where

aquatic/marine resources are abundant, the hunter-gatherers who exploit them are

expected to be organized very differently from hunter-gatherers in the interior who

are focused primarily on terrestrial resources. For example, at a global scale,

aquatic-dependent hunter-gatherers are more likely than their terrestrial counterparts

to exhibit wealth differentiation among households. Binford (2001, p. 370) suggests

this is because aquatic resource use depends on unique access locations and on

greater technological investment, both of which could contribute to ownership. Not

all aquatic-oriented hunter-gatherers will be organized in the same way; there are

numerous dimensions of variation in the way these resources are distributed,

harvested, processed, and stored that will structure variation among the hunter-

gatherers who utilize them. The coincidence of anadromous fish and ambient

temperatures low enough to allow time for processing before fish goes bad (Binford

2001, pp. 430–431) is associated with the greatest complexity among aquatic-

dependent hunter-gatherers (Binford 2008). Regional studies of ethnographic

patterning suggest that the numbers of species processed and stored are important

predictors of social complexity (Panowski 1985).

South Africa

Recently, Sealy (2006) has argued that stable isotope evidence of human remains

from sites along the southernmost coast of South Africa reveal significant dietary

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differences among geographically separated populations, indicating territoriality

along this coast between 4500 and 2000 BP (Sealy 2006, pp. 581–582). She uses the

distinction Cashdan (1983) makes between types of boundary maintenance to argue

that on the southern Cape there were small territories maintained through perimeter

defense, as Dyson-Hudson and Smith (1978) suggest for environments with

abundant and predictable resources. Sealy’s research is well situated with respect to

global patterns of variation related to aquatic-dependent hunter-gatherers (Sealy

2006, p. 570), yet it has been controversial among archaeologists who work in the

region (Parkington 2007; Sealy 2007). The disagreement centers on the lack of

obvious support for Sealy’s interpretation of isotopic patterning in human skeletons

from other aspects of the archaeological record of the region (Parkington 2007).

Sealy’s response (2007, p. 582) notes the need for greater knowledge of what would

be expected of the archaeological record in this particular setting: ‘‘As Parkington

points out, there is no evidence of sophisticated extraction technologies, permanent

houses, etc., as reported among sedentary hunter-gatherers elsewhere. These have,

however, generally been communities living at much higher latitudes, in strongly

seasonal climates. There simply is not the same need for permanent houses or

storage facilities in this very temperate part of the world. Given this setting, what

would we expect to see in the material cultural assemblages?’’

This is precisely the kind of question a controlled study of hunter-gatherer

housing and storage, focused on aquatic-dependent hunter-gatherers, could address.

Binford’s hunter-gatherer dataset contains considerable relevant information on the

size and construction of houses and could be supplemented by additional

information about the context and design of storage facilities. In a global

perspective, the coastal regions of the western and southern Cape fall in a

temperature range where mobile hunter-gatherers are expected to use some storage;

however, it is likely to be only minimal storage. In this context, any substantial

storage would be expected to be density-dependent. Storage of aquatic/marine

resources would further depend on the seasonality of the resources themselves and

the amount of time such resources would take to spoil. Binford’s ‘‘cod-fish’’

equation (Binford 2001, pp. 430–431) may be a useful frame of reference when

considering storage potential for aquatic resources across this region. It also would

be informative to know more about how marine and terrestrial resource distribution

varies around the Cape. Such knowledge would be useful as a way of controlling

comparisons within the region (how relevant are patterns at Elands Bay Cave on the

western Cape to the discussion of possible territoriality along the southern Cape?).

This is a provocative example of the value of grounding archaeological research in

the broader frames of reference of ethnographic variation and of the need to

continue developing such frames of reference on multiple geographic scales.

Variation in change over time among hunter-gatherers

Thus far, our focus on variation among archaeologically and ethnographically

documented hunter-gatherers has primarily been geographic. This section addresses

variation in patterns of change over time both within hunter-gatherer portions of

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archaeological sequences and (briefly) in the transition from hunting-gathering to

food production. Although intensification of resource use is a dominant pattern of

change at a global scale, it is clear that this pattern is not characteristic of all regions

(Goni 2010; Goni and Barrientos 2004; Hiscock 2008, pp. 243–244; Moraga et al.

2009; Morales et al. 2009; Tessone et al. 2009). Johnson and Hard (2008) developed

a model of intensification, specifically focused on plant intensification, which

suggests that intensification is expected earliest in regions that have the greatest

abundance of accessible terrestrial resources to support high population growth rates

among hunter-gatherers. Mapping growth rates at the global scale (Fig. 6) indicates

that both Australia and Patagonia fall at the low end of modeled growth rates and

thus would not be expected to exhibit strong intensification patterns.

Instead, we should expect strong intensification patterns in regions where hunter-

gatherers have access to plentiful resources that support population growth across

the region. Based on patterning of subsistence strategy with population density

among recent hunter-gatherers, Binford (2001, p. 216) developed the proposition

that ‘‘In warmer climates, there are two distinct paths leading to settled living,

depending on the type of food resource exploited: intensification based on the use of

terrestrial plants and intensification based on the use of aquatic resources. In colder

environments, intensification resulting from the exploitation of aquatic resources is

the only pathway.’’ Johnson and Hard’s (2008) model of plant intensification

combined modeled growth rate with two of the effective temperature thresholds

recognized by Binford (2001, p. 267)—the storage threshold at 15.25 ET and the

terrestrial plant threshold at 12.75 ET—and projected hunter-gatherer dependence

on aquatic resources at the packing threshold to define intensification expectations.

By integrating knowledge of modeled population growth rates (Fig. 6), effective

temperature zones defined by Binford’s thresholds (Fig. 4), and regional knowledge

of availability of aquatic resources, it is possible to develop specific expectations for

regional variation in both probable timing of and most likely pathway for

intensification (Fig. 5). These, in turn, provide expectations for regional structure of

both spatial and temporal variation in the archaeological record.

The archaeological record is likely to exhibit more dramatic change in places

where hunter-gatherers shift from a mobile focus on terrestrial animals to a more

sedentary focus on aquatic resources, whereas places where plant-dependent hunter-

gatherers intensify on plants are likely to display gradual change in the

archaeological record. Regions that could support multiple subsistence strategies

may have particularly interesting variation related to the structure of resources

within the region. Binford (2001, pp. 363–433) developed numerous specific

propositions regarding variation under intensification and the evolution of specific

system states.

Pacific Rim

Due to anthropological interest in complex hunter-gatherers and exploration of

different patterns of long-term culture change, researchers working around the

Pacific Rim from Japan to the coast of California have been exploring variation in

the subsistence, settlement, and social organization of prehistoric hunter-gatherers

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and, particularly, long-term sequences of culture change from this region in a

broadly comparative way for several decades (Fitzhugh and Habu 2002; Habu et al.

2003; Koyama and Thomas 1981). Initially, this comparison began with a question

about how to explain differences in the intensification trajectories between

California (no prehistoric agriculture) and Japan (transition to rice agriculture)

(Koyama and Thomas 1981). Recent research has focused more on variation and

change over time among prehistoric hunter-gatherers in general (Fitzhugh and Habu

2002), and in particular around the Pacific Rim (Habu et al. 2003). Ethnographically

documented cases have often served as models that inform archaeological

interpretation.

Fitzhugh (2002, 2003) has developed a sophisticated conceptual model, with

specific predictions for archaeological patterns related to each phase. Increasing

regional population density clearly drives the first three phases in this model.

Competition for control of productive patches serves as the basis for the

development of social complexity. The model is designed to ‘‘apply anywhere

that hunter-gatherers colonize a highly seasonal and patchy environment’’ (Fitzhugh

2003, p. 16).

The generalized model (Fitzhugh 2003, pp. 17–21) is based on evolutionary

ecology to structure individual decisions and is driven by the process of

demographic filling of a region, necessary technological change, and later changes

in sociopolitical organization. The model recognizes five phases: expansion as

people move into a new region, change in strategy based on mobility constraints

when a region is filled, advances in technological efficiency for low-ranked

resources and population growth, emergence of sociopolitical complexity, and

consolidation of power in association with greater integration and diversification of

roles within society. Unlike many early models of change over time, this is a

multidimensional model that recognizes the possibility for organizational change

among hunter-gatherers absent environmental change. Specific predictions of the

model are then used to inform discussion of the archaeological record of the Kodiak

Archipelago.

Fitzhugh’s focus on modeling general evolutionary process yields predictions

about a basic pattern of change over time that could be seen in any highly seasonal

and patchy environment. Specifically, this model should be most relevant in

ecological settings like those mapped as pattern 5 in Fig. 5. These settings all have

highly seasonal environments. They vary in the degree of seasonality of particular

resources and in the degree of patchiness and productivity of these resources. With a

standardized measure of these ecological dimensions it might be possible to isolate

the specific ecological conditions under which more complex social organizations

arise among hunter-gatherers. The existing hunter-gatherer frames of reference are

focused on measuring terrestrial productivity, but it seems that there would be

significant learning potential from the development of parallel measures of marine

and aquatic productivity.

This is one research domain where it could be particularly productive to integrate

models based on global-scale ethnographic comparison of hunter-gatherer organi-

zation and those based on recurring patterns of change in the archaeological record.

Ethnographic studies provide context about dimensions of variation (including

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environmental dimensions) in the context of hunting-gathering that condition wealth

differentiation and social stratification [see discussion of generalizations from

Binford (2001) above]. The most difficult challenge for testing expectations

regarding patterns in change over time in the archaeological record may well be the

development of our ability to measure population density archaeologically.

Controlling for population density

One of the most promising directions of recent research for measuring prehistoric

population density proposes strategies for correcting anthropogenic radiocarbon

frequencies for taphonomic bias (Surovell and Brantingham 2007; Surovell et al.

2009) to yield reliable measures of prehistoric human demography. The results yield

a relative, but not an absolute, measure of human population density in a region.

One lesson we have learned from global studies of variation among hunter-

gatherers is that the population-density threshold at which subsistence strategies

begin to change, particularly where hunter-gatherers are initially primarily

dependent on terrestrial animals, is much lower than most archaeologists would

imagine. Thus, although many archaeologists focus on changing environmental

variables leading to change in hunter-gatherer adaptations, in most regions of the

world it is much more likely that even small regional increases in population density

are responsible for the most significant shifts in these adaptations, particularly

during the Pleistocene–Holocene transition (Johnson 2008). Yet rigorous testing of

propositions about the impact of relatively small increases in population density on

settlement and subsistence strategies would demand both accurate and precise ways

of measuring absolute population density.

Another research domain that could yield rapid growth in both our knowledge

and analytical abilities is the search for density-dependent patterns, controlling for

key dimensions of environmental variation, in archaeologically recoverable aspects

of material culture. Preliminary research suggests that controlling for basic

dimensions of the environment [like effective temperature and the biomass

accumulation ratio of the plant community (low in deserts and grasslands, high in

forests)] reveals density-dependent patterns in hunter-gatherer housing construction

that could be used to diagnose archaeological population densities in most

environmental settings (Harrill 2006). If similar global-scale, environmentally

structured, density-dependent patterns could be developed using other archaeolog-

ically measurable dimensions of technological or site structural variation among

recent hunter-gatherers, we may be able to develop enough independent clues that

we could make strong inferences about likely levels of population density in the

archaeological record. Combined with new strategies for measuring relative human

population density, it may eventually be possible to calibrate relative measures

given knowledge of ethnographically established density-dependent thresholds.

These tools, if we can develop them, could propel the study of variation among

ancient and modern foragers to a new level of truly predictive modeling and model

testing. Models that serve only for refined interpretation do not allow us to learn

new things. Developing strategies for testing those models encourages us to learn

the limits of our current knowledge and to design research to extend that knowledge.

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Such testing will not always require large-scale or long-term fieldwork. The

descriptive record of hunter-gatherer archaeology in some regions is likely to be

sufficient for testing some propositions. In other regions, testing may have to wait.

However, knowing what would be expected given global and regional patterns of

variation could productively guide archaeological research in such regions.

Conclusion

This paper had two major goals: (1) to review empirically established patterns of

macroecological variation among archaeologically and ethnographically docu-

mented hunter-gatherers and (2) to suggest a hierarchical strategy for using frames

of reference to situate research questions, first at the global scale and then at the

regional scale, to maximize the learning potential of future research on hunter-

gatherer variation. It is sobering to think that just as we are beginning to use our

knowledge productively to learn about hunter-gatherer variation at multiple scales

of analysis, hunting-gathering is fading into the past as a viable way of life and

much hunter-gatherer archaeology is threatened by increasing scales of develop-

ment and urbanization in many parts of the world (Price 2002). Nevertheless, the

recent growth of knowledge in this field has produced fascinating patterns that

demand further exploration, greater understanding, and future explanation. The

utility of global and regional frames of reference that organize relational data on

many aspects of hunter-gatherer organization and material culture together with

numerous environmental variables is only beginning to be realized. There is

enormous potential in the near future for both the development and the testing of

theory that can explain variation among ancient and modern foragers.

Acknowledgments I thank the editors Gary Feinman and Doug Price for the invitation to contribute to

the Journal of Archaeological Research and for their patience in waiting for the finished manuscript. The

work of Lewis R. Binford (1931–2011) is both the inspiration and the foundation for this exploration. As

a professor, he challenged me to think in ways no one else ever has. As a colleague, he modeled scholarly

dedication to his profession and provided intellectual companionship and professional encouragement.

This paper has benefitted greatly from comments by Iain Davidson, Peter Peregrine, four anonymous

reviewers, and the careful attention to editing text and figures provided by Linda Nicholas. Any errors in

fact or logic are mine.

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Exploring Adaptive Variation among Hunter-gatherers with Binford’s Frames of Reference

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