Towards a Psychoanalytic Interpretation of the Execution and Battle

Scenes in the Rock Art Panels in Cingle de la Mola Remigia (Ares del

Maestre, Castellón, Valencia, Spain)

Luis R. Mitras

Abstract

This paper analyzes the rock art panels depicting battle and execution scenes

in cavities V and IX of Cingle de la Mola Remigia (Ares del Maestre, Cas-

tellón, Valencia, Spain). We provide a broad survey of the scholarly work

that has done on this site, summarize the continuing debates about whether

these panels were the work of Mesolithic hunter-gatherers or early Neolithic

farmers, and consider the current interpretations of the panels. We propose

that psychoanalytic theory provides a useful interpretative tool for making

sense of these painted panels.

Keywords: rock art — Spanish Levant — psychoanalysis

This paper considers a series of rock paintings depicting battle and execution scenes in

the rock cavities in Cingle de la Mola Remigia (Ares del Maestre, Castellón, Valencia,

Spain). Although there are similar depictions of execution scenes in nearby rock shelters

and in other places in the Spanish Levant, the focus is exclusively on the paintings

found in two cavities in this single site. These paintings are used as a case study for a

psychoanalytically oriented interpretation of rock art.

We begin by contextualizing Cingle de la Mola Remigia in terms of the geography

and geomorphology of the Spanish Levant. This is followed by a discussion of the ‘dis-

covery’ of the site and the studies that have been done on it. The underlying theme

behind studies of the paintings in Cingle de la Mola Remigia is whether they were done

by late Mesolithic hunter-gatherer or early Neolithic pastoral-agriculturalists, and this

question needs to be seen within the broader debates about Levantine art.

The second part of this paper provides an overview of the interpretations that have

been made of these paintings in Cingle de la Mola Remigia. In the third part we con-

sider the possibility of an interpretation using the insights of Lacanian psychoanalysis.

We propose that not only does a Lacanian reading allow us to make sense of these

painted panels, it can also contribute to an understanding of aggression and violent

behaviour in prehistoric contexts.

1. Cingle de la Mola Remigia

2

Geographical Context

Cingle de la Mola Remigia is located in the village of Ares del Maestre in the comarca

(region) of Alt Maestrat (Spanish: Alto Maestrazgo) in the province of Castellón in the

Valencian Community in Spain. The site falls within what is called the Spanish Levant

(Levante or Llevant), which is one of the areas with the highest concentrations of rock

art in the Iberian Peninsula. The Levant refers to the eastern, seaboard region of the Ibe-

rian Peninsula. It does not correspond with any geopolitical area, and includes regions

of modern-day Valencia, Murcia, Catalonia, Almería, as well as parts of Castile-La

Mancha, Granada, and Aragon. An area noted for its glaciers and limestone caves

(Dumas, 1969), it is essentially a hilly flank that rises from the sea before it merges into

the Meseta of the central Iberian plateau.

Castellón, the most northerly province of Valencia, and where limestone predomi-

nates, is distinguished by its hills, lagoons, river terraces, quarries (Perez Cueva, 2005).

Within Castellón, we note the presence of Villafranchian (early Pleistocene) glaciers in

the Maestrat region (Perez Cueva, Simon Gomez & Calvo Cases, 1982). Ares del Maestre,

also known as Ares del Maestrat or simply Ares, is a small village and municipality in

this region. It is situated near the top of the Mola d’Ares mountain, at an altitude of

1,148 m.

Cingle de la Mola Remigia is also known as the ‘Cingle de la Gasulla.’ It is found on

the right bank of Gasulla Gorge, a deep and impressive gorge flanked by steep slopes,

and it is 920 metres above sea level. To the northeast on this gorge is the equally

famous Cova Remigia (Spanish: Cueva Remígia).

Fig. 1 — The principal rock shelters in

Ares del Maestre, Castellón, Valencia,

Spain (after Ripoll Perelló)

Cingle de la Mola Remigia is made up of ten rock cavities, nine of which have

paintings. Of special interest are Abric V (N40 25 19.8 W0 07 09. 1) and Abric IX (N40

25 19.8 W0 07 09. 1).

Discovery and the First Studies

The first study of the paintings at Cingle de la Mola Remigia is closely related to what

occurred at the nearby Cova Remigia. The paintings there were studied by Joan Porcar,

Hugo Obermaier and Henri Breuil, who at the time hailed them as the most important

discoveries in Levantine rock art (Porcar Ripollés, Obermaier, & Breuil, 1935: 5). A subse-

quent study of Cova Remigia was extended to include Cingle de la Mola Remigia, as

3

well as other nearby rock shelters. The report on this second field trip was approved by

Obermaier in 1935 and Breuil in 1951, but was put on file and left unfinished (Meseguer

Folch, 1985). The work was later completed in the early 1960s by Eduardo Ripoll

Perelló. It was Ripoll Perelló who characterized the artworks in Cingle de la Mola

Remigia as typical examples of Levantine art (Ripoll Perelló, 1963).

The Levantine style was not the only style unique to the Spanish Levant. Such art-

works came to be designated as ‘Levantine’ in order to distinguish it from Palaeolithic

(and, in some cases, upper Mesolithic) art forms and associated industries. Earlier art

was recognized as linear-geometric with representations of arrows, footprints, triangular

geometric figures, whereas in Levantine art there was a more dynamic representation of

humans (Ripoll Perelló, 1964; Beltrán, 1968).

The problem of the dating of Levantine style and determining who produced it has

long been a contentious issue in the study of rock art from the Spanish Levant, and there

are contradictory views about whether it was done by hunter-gatherer or by members of

Neolithic societies.

The Dating of Levantine Art and the Question of Neolithization

The Abbé Breuil was one of the early proponents that chronologically Levantine art

belonged within the Paleolithic, this because of the depiction of quaternary fauna in this

kind of art. According to Ripoll Perelló, Breuil later came to alter this view (Ripoll

Perelló, 1984), although it is also true that he defended his position at the Wenner-Gren

Symposium on “Prehistoric Art of the Western Mediterranean and the Sahara” in 1960

(Straus, 2006: 273).

In the 1940s Martín Almagro Basch argued for a close connection between Levan-

tine rock art and the lithic industries of the upper Mesolithic sites, thus suggesting that

they belonged within the same period (Almagro Basch, 1947). By the 1960s most schol-

ars were arguing that Levantine rock art might have originated in the Paleolithic, but

that it was essentially upper Mesolithic (Ripoll Perelló, 1964; Beltrán, 1968). Ripoll

Perelló maintained that this art had its beginnings at around 8000-7500 BCE.

The acceptance that Levantine art was Mesolithic was challenged with Mauro

Hernández’s discovery in the 1980s of a new style in sites like Cova de l’Or and Cova

de la Sarsa in the Alicante province, a style that he would call Macro-schematic style.

Hernández noticed the similarity in motifs between some of the representations on rock

walls and those found on Cardial impressed pottery (Martí Oliver & Hernández Pérez,

1988). Cardial pottery along the Mediterranean is associated with Neolithization, that is,

with the arrival by the sea of farming communities who then settled along the shores

and gradually moved into the interior (King & Underhill, 2002; Zilhão, 1998; Zilhão, 2001).

What is more, this rock art shared some conventions with Cardial culture, namely,

anthropomorphic figures with raised arms and outspread fingers (‘praying humanoids’)

and serpentine forms. It seemed clear that Macro-schematic belonged to the early Neo-

lithic.

Because in sites such as Cova de la Sara Levantine motifs were superimposed over

earlier Macro-schematic ones, it was impossible to deny a Neolithic chronology to

Levantine art. Hernández Pérez and his associates continued to view Levantine art as

reflecting a hunter-gatherer society, exemplified by the hunting scenes, but now placed

within a Neolithic timescale (Martí Oliver & Hernández Pérez, 1988; Hernández Pérez,

Ferrer Marset & Catalá Ferrer, 1988). The subsequent discovery that hunter-gather socie-

ties did not inhabit the areas in question made some suggest that this art was done by

Neolithic groups (Hernández Pérez & Martí Oliver, 2000-2001).

4

The issue was further complicated by the existence of the Levantine style alongside

the Schematic style, a style with painted figures that are very schematic or abstract. The

style was identified in the nineteenth century, and it has generally been accepted to date

from the late Neolithic or the Chalcolithic. There are examples of the superimposition of

the Levantine style over the Schematic in sites such as La Sarga and Barranc de

Famorca (Hernández Pérez, Ferrer Marset & Catalá Ferrer, 1988). For some authors the

existence of common motifs in impressed pottery suggests that both Schematic and

Levantine styles date from the early Neolithic (Martí Oliver & Hernández Pérez, 1988;

Torregrosa & Galiana, 2001).

Speaking specifically of the Gasulla system (i.e., the Cingle de la Mola Remigia and

Cova Remigia sites), María Cruz Berrocal and Juan Vicent García argue that Schematic

and Levantine styles function as demarcation signs in a complex geographical organi-

zation of the territory. Artwork in central places in the Gasulla Gorge (places such as

Cingle de la Mola Remigia) exhibit the Levantine style, whereas peripheral places

exhibit the Schematic style. It could be argued that the places with Levantine rock art

would the locations with water and would constitute base camps for the grazing of ani-

mals. Such places would function as ‘territorial indicators’ (Cruz Berrocal & Vicent

García, 2007: 693). Viewed within this larger territorial context, Levantine art is reveal-

ing of the transition to agriculture. However, recent authors have argued that, instead of

territorial organization, the appearance of Levantine art might be an attempt on the part

of later populations to ‘connect’ with ancient traditions (McClure, Molina Balaguer &

Bernabeu Auban, 2008). In general, a consensus seems to have been built over the years that Levantine art

refers to a particular kind of Neolithic art with realistic depictions of hunting and war-

fare. It is a kind of art generally found in mountain settings and alongside deep gorges.

The people who painted these artworks were Neolithic farmer-pastoralists who were not

using these sites as homes, although they might have used them as base camps. Hunting

might have been an activity additional to pastoralism. The painted art may have been a

way to claim ownership of the land and its traditions; it may have been a way of claim-

ing ownership over those they had exterminated or vanquished.

2. The Painted Panels at Mola Remigia

According to Eduardo Ripoll Perelló, who produced the first systematic study of Cingle

de la Mola Remigia, there are about 300 painted figures in the ten rock cavities that

make up this site. These are usually depicted with a degree of naturalism. Of these, 185

are human (usually with weapons or human artefacts) and 115 are animals (32 goats, 11

deer, 9 bulls and 2 boars). Most of the human figures represent archers. These human

figures are usually involved in battle scenes or are part of processions of warriors (Ripoll

Perelló, 1963).

Although the initial interpretations that the human-liked figures represented humans

have not been challenged, there is disagreement, however, about what precisely these

human figures were doing. Depending on the point of view of the individual researcher,

these representations are variously seen as having been done by hunter-gatherers or by

Neolithic groups, or even by pastoralists who maintained alive a tradition which had

never been theirs, or by pastoralists who perpetuated the art forms of a culture that they

assimilated or exterminated, or even by acculturated indigenous populations who kept

alive their own native traditions.

5

The “Phalanx”

One of the best-known of the battle scenes in rock art is found at Abric IX of the Cingle

de la Mola Remigia. It is a relatively large panel showing two groups fighting each

other (see Fig. 2). On the left-hand side there are about twenty archers. The figures on

the right-hand side include archers, but also figures who seem be holding some sort of

projectiles. The entire sequence is not altogether clear because the archers, brown or

black in colour, were painted over earlier figures of goats, which were in red.

Fig. 2. ‘Battle scene’ in Abric IX (Guilaine and Zammit, 2005: 104 [after Ripoll Perello,

1963]).

6

The most interesting aspect of this panel is the detail on the top left-hand side (see

Fig. 3a and Fig. 3b). It is this detail of the panel that has come to be particularly well-

known. In fact, in 1967 the Franco régime in Spain even issued a 3.50-peseta postage

stamp with its depiction (Jenkins, 1977: 82). It shows five striding human figures with

outstretched arms in a phalanx (falange) formation, which is also the reason why this

part of the panel has come to be known as the “phalanx.” These figures seem to be men

since two (or maybe four) of them are represented as having penises. The five figures

may be part of the narrative of the battle scene depicted in the larger panel, in which

case they could represent recently arrived reinforcements (Guilaine & Zammit, 2005: 105).

If one assumes that the ‘phalanx’ is not structurally integrated in the larger narrative

(and the figures do not, after all, partake of the movement in the main picture), then it is

possible to see the ‘phalanx’ as the representation of something more symbolic, such as

a propitiatory ritual or a ritual dance. Alternatively, the ‘phalanx’ may be part of a sepa-

rate narrative, in which case it might signify a different time sequence, either the period

before (preparations for battle) or the period after (victory). For some authors, the ‘pha-

lanx’ represents the equivalent of a military parade or the act of marching off to war

(Mateo Saura, 2000: 6).

Much has been made of the fact that the figure in front of the group (the one figure

that is not represented as having a penis) is not only bigger than the others, but also has

some sort of headgear. Discussions of the scene all notice that this might signify some

sort of rank or hierarchical status (Guilaine & Zammit, 2005: 105; Mateo Saura, 2000: 7;

Nash, 2005: 84). However, these different authors discern very different kinds of hierar-

chy in the ‘phalanx.’

Fig. 3a — Detail of the “phalanx” (Guilaine and Zammit, 2005: 105 [after

Dams, 1984]; Nash, 2005: 76 [after Beltrán, 1982]).

7

Fig. 3b — Photograph of the “phalanx” (Mateo Saura, 2000: 6).

Guilaine and Zammit, in their study of violence in prehistory, discuss the panel in the

context of a broader discussion about Neolithic incursions on Megalithic territory (111-

119). For them, Levantine art is clearly Neolithic and, as such, this battle scene repre-

sents the extermination of the indigenous hunter-gather populations of the mountains. If

the distinctive headgear represents rank, it would be that of the conqueror. George Nash,

on the other hand, interprets the rock art of Castellón as reflecting a hunter-gather soci-

ety and, as such, the distinctive headgear would signify rank in a more tribal context.

For him, the sort of headgear found in the panel in Abric IX exists along a continuum of

representations with those represented in nearby rock shelters, one of which is suppos-

edly made of feathers (Nash, 2005: 84).

Sacrificial Killings or Executions Scenes

Probably the most interesting of the art panels in the Gasulla Gorge are those depicting

what could be sacrificial killings or execution (capital punishment) scenes.

Fig. 4 — ‘Wounded man’ in Abric

V (Guilaine and Zammit, 2005: 113

[after Dams, 1984]; Nash, 2005: 76

[after Beltrán, 1982]).

8

The idea that some of the panels in the rock shelters in the Gasulla Gorge represented

sacrificial killings or executions scenes was first proposed by Juan Bautista Porcar

Ripollés (1945). Porcar was part of the first team to study Cova Remigia, which was

studied before the neighbouring Cingle de la Mola Remigia got to be studied. In fact,

the report on Cova Remigia came out three decades earlier than that of Cingle de la

Mola Remigia. In a sense, how the far more numerous ‘death scene’ panels Cingle de la

Mola Remigia came to be interpreted was influenced by the fact that some panels at

Cova Remigia had already been interpreted as ritual killings. Although no serious alter-

native to these interpretations has been proposed, the finer details of disagreement about

what these panels signify have to do with whether or not authors take these paintings to

have been produced by hunter-gatherers or by members of a more an agricultural-pas-

toralist society.

The representations of sacrificial killings or executions are found in Abric V. In Fig-

ure 4, we have a static, upright figure being rained down by arrows. The arms are raised,

perhaps to depict pain or supplication. In Figure 5, the human figure that is being thrust

with arrows seems to be in movement. The fact that these scenes should be seen in the

context of the large battle depictions we encountered in Abric IX is made evident in

Figure 6 where a single human felled by arrows is placed at a distance away from a

large group of human figures. We cannot be sure whether these were spectators or war-

riors. There are bows depicted above the group, which might be significant. The dead

(or dying) person is lying on the ground and there are projectiles over parts of his or her

body, including the head, lower back and legs.

Fig. 5 — ‘Wounded man in flight’

(Guilaine and Zammit, 2005: 112

[after Dams, 1984]; Nash, 2005: 76

[after Ripoll Perello, 1963]).

Speaking of Figure 6, Jean Guilaine and Jean Zammit state that the panel possibly

represents some sort of sacrifice or ostracization (2005: 113). Other authors go further

and suggest that the sort of represented sequences found in the Gasulla Gorge point

either to human sacrifice for religious ends or to the execution of those who trans-

gressed the norms of the community (Viñas & Rubio, 1988). Miguel Ángel Mateo Saura,

although he does not stake a position, points out the this interpretation that the panel

signifies the execution of prisoners is consistent with the dynamics of hunter-gatherer

societies where it would have made more economic sense to kill a prisoner than make

that prisoner into a slave; he also points out that it is relatively common for hunter-gath-

9

erers to kill one of their own who has offended a neighbouring group as a way of propi-

tiating that group and thus avoid war (2000: 11).

Ultimately, what is not a source of contention among scholars is the fact these pan-

els represent the infliction of pain by human being on other human beings. This is made

particularly evident in Figure 7, which shows a figure with open arms whose body has

the appearance of being ‘broken’ by incisions in the calves and the buttocks. It seems

obvious enough that these people knew how to cause pain. It is this aggressive intent to

physically harm that makes these panels so remarkable. It is that which we will now try

to understand.

Fig. 6 — The ‘execution scene’ at Abric V (Guilaine and Zammit, 2005: 112 [after Obermaier,

1937]; Nash, 2005: 76 [after Beltrán 1982]).

3. Hate and Aggression in Prehistoric Times

The term ‘violence’ is frequently used in the scientific literature. The term can refer to

anything from the infliction of pain to instances of injustice, to cruelty, ill-treatment, or

to malign intent. It is not a very precise term, and what is considered violent in one cul-

ture need to be regarded as violent in another culture. For what others would regard as

violence I would speak of the aggressive intent to inflict injuries. Aggression or aggres-

sive intent simply means the intention to harm; injury means the damage or wound

caused by physical trauma. This definition largely excludes discussion of warfare

(which might even be motivated by pacific or noble motives), rape, executions or ritual

killings (all which might be socially sanctioned). Despite this, because the end results

are often similar, any discussion of aggression in prehistoric contexts will naturally

10

overlap with discussions on the origins of warfare (Zur, 1987; Robarchek, 1989; Thorpe,

2003). This is especially true of the origins of war in the context of Neolithization in

Europe (Vandkilde, 2003; Christensen, 2004).

A considerable body of literature on the potential causes of aggression has been

building up in the last few decades. Some authors consider biological factors (Mednick,

Gabrielli & Hutchings, 1984; Archer, 2006), while others focus on aspects of psychological

development (Humphreys & Smith, 1987; Anooshian, 2005), and others consider the inter-

play of a host of different factors and variables (Perry & Beussey, 1984; Baron & Richard-

son, 1994). To understand aggression in prehistoric contexts some have turned to com-

parative studies of our closest primate relatives (de Waal, 2000; de Waal, 2001; Pusey,

2001). Some of this recent literature has focused on the contrasting natures of two spe-

cies of the genus Pan (what we would call ‘chimpanzees’), i.e., the common chimpan-

zee (Pan troglodytes) and the bonobo (Pan paniscus).

Each of these different fields brings with it specific insights which, together, helps us

to obtain a more complete picture. What is missing, however, in the study of all these

variables that go into producing human aggression is the notion of human subjectivity

(and I am using the term ‘subjectivity’ in the sense of something that relates to the

human subject, although the other, more colloquial meaning of the term is naturally

adjacent to it and cannot be discounted), and how this subjectivity is imbricated with the

reality of biology and the demands of culture. Although there are many psychological

theories, these do little more than explain psychological behaviour, particularly as it has

been measured in experimental studies of modern-day populations. It is only psycho-

analytic theory which has come up with a conceptual framework that explains the

human subject in the totality of the body, of culture, and unconscious motivations.

Psychoanalysis offers the most nuanced and complete explication of human subjectivity

we have to date. Perhaps because it operates within a very specific clinical discourse

and perhaps because there is not much interdisciplinary communication, the insights of

psychoanalytic theory have hitherto been ignored by those studying prehistory. At the

same time, the painted panels of the Cingle de la Mola Remigia begin make more sense

if we also consider them in the light of what psychoanalytic theory has to teach us.

The first thing to note is that the panels in Cingle de la Mola Remigia imply an

overarching cultural order for those that painted them, a symbolic order of which those

people were part of and which constituted them. These people acted in certain ways

because they were part of a symbolic order. These people had a language, codes of

conduct, beliefs and they acted in accordance with these. What precisely this cultural

order entailed we cannot be sure. In other words, the precise lineaments of the symbolic

necessarily escape us.

The people who painted the panels in Cingle de la Mola Remigia were also speaking

subjects, but they left us no written record of their thoughts and motives. But the art

works they left behind are also the end results of their symbolizing abilities. What these

efforts at symbolization signified is not immediately obvious. The social context that led

to these artworks being produced has to be reconstructed; similarly, the artistic and

cultural conventions that governed the production of these artworks can be deduced, but

never fully understood. Nevertheless, if we consider these artworks as loci or places of

signification, in other words, as loci invested with signifiers, it is quite possible to ana-

lyze them. For this we should not consider these as works of realism (although they

might be realistic), but as modes of signification. The manner in which things got to be

represented—the distortions, the exaggerations, the choice of elements that were chosen

to be represented from all the possible elements that could have been represented, how

these chosen elements were recombined and reconfigured, the methods and style of

11

composition—tells us much about the thinking and worldview of the people who pro-

duced those works. It is those signifiers which point to an interesting interplay in the

symbolic, real and imaginary registers. It is that interplay that makes these panels so

instructive about the nature of aggression in an early Neolithic society.

It is the place of the Other that is interesting in these panels. We cannot know

whether the figure of the Other depicted in the panels—the Other who is represented as

being killed—was one of their own or an enemy, but the manner in which the Other is

represented is very revealing. Porcar Ripollés, who was a member of the first team to

make a systematic study of the rock art in the Gasulla gorge, noted the close connection

between the scenes depicting the hunting of deer and goats and those depicting the

hunting of humans. Technically speaking, there was little to distinguish the two kinds of

scenes, and what we have, in effect, is the transposition of the hunting of animals to the

hunting of other hunters (Porcar Ripollés, 1953: 79). This shows that at some level the

Other is viewed as an animal or as being akin to an animal. The Other was not recog-

nized as a semblable, as someone who was similar. This means that the imaginary

tipped on to the register of the real, the place of pain, discomfort.

Fig. 7 — Nash, 2005: 76

(after (Beltrán 1982

It is here that one of the recurring features of the panels depicting the death of

humans at Cingle de la Mola Remigia becomes particularly significant. Although the

representation of the death of humans follows the same convention as the slaughter or

hunting of animals, there is one detail that is systematically different. Whereas animals

are represented as being slain by a single arrow (although in real life they might have

killed with more than one arrow), in all the panels at Cingle de la Mola Remigia when-

ever a human is represented as being killed (‘executed,’ ‘sacrificed,’ if we will), that

human is represented as being struck by multiple arrows. It is a significant detail, one

that might reveal something about a ‘desire for destruction’ (Lacan, 1999), a desire to

kill, to annihilate, to destroy. We know that desire is a self-circulating machine, that the

achievement of a goal is never the satisfaction of that desire, but sets in motion that

desire once again. Desire is very different from need or necessity: if one hunts an animal

for food, that goal is achieved when the food is obtained. Not so with desire. Desire

springs from a very different place. That is why so often there is a compulsion to repeat.

The idea of ‘a compulsion to repeat’ is one of those fundamental concepts in psycho-

analysis.

12

Ultimately this desire to annihilate and vanquish the Other is nothing new, and it is

story repeated countless times in the historical annals. What is particularly interesting

about these panels is the broader cultural incorporation of the Other in the psychic

economy of these people. If the Other was one of their own, then this suggest that by

their difference (which could simply mean the transgression of certain norms) these

others inspired a certain amount of intolerance. On the other hand, if the Other was the

enemy, then we can understand that it was precisely the ‘otherness’ of the Other

(alienness, strangeness) that lead it being seen as a figure of hatred. But this raises an

interesting question: Who was the enemy?

The evidence we have to date suggests that the panels were painted by Neolithic

farmers and herders, although they probably adopted customs and traditions of those

whom they had displaced. If this is so, then we have an interesting example of simulta-

neously an identification with the Other and a repudiation of this Other. Such a condi-

tion is not so rare. It would certainly explain the adoption of a mode of artistic expres-

sion that already existed in and was already inscribed within the landscape. It would

account for the strange ambiguity at the heart of these panels.

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