Landscape Research,

Vol. 33, No. 5, 547–564, October 2008

Mediterranean Landscape Archaeology:

Marginality and the Culture–Nature
‘Divide’
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

KEVIN WALSH
Department of Archaeology, University of York, UK

ABSTRACT The so-called culture–nature divide manifests itself in the ways in which many
landscape archaeologists and historians write about landscape. This divide is in part a
consequence of the differences between the ‘scientific’ method and the approaches adopted by
cultural landscape archaeologists and historians. In Mediterranean landscape archaeology, this
split is characterised by the ways in which the history of erosion and landscape degradation are
researched and written about. Employing ideas derived from Actor-Network Theory, two case
studies from the south of France illustrate the potential for more nuanced interpretations of how
different groups of people may have perceived and responded to erosion within landscape types
that are often classified as ‘marginal’ in one sense or another.

KEY WORDS: Landscape archaeology, Mediterranean France, Alps, Actor-Network Theory,

erosion

Introduction
One of the most important changes to have taken place in landscape archaeological
theory over the last 20 years is the development of post-processual schools of thought
(influenced by post-structuralism and other postmodern philosophies). Despite this,
many feel that the discourses that constitute scientific and environmental archaeology
(which includes palaeoecology and geoarchaeology) have not evolved at the same
pace. Moreover, many who espouse post-processual approaches still appear reluctant
to engage with certain types of scientific data, and some appear to see such data as an
irrelevance (Tilley, 1994). As one influential strand in landscape archaeology,
phenomenology appears preoccupied with human experience or intentionality, and
thus denies a world beyond human experience. A consequence of this is that the
‘‘. . . world of science is left entirely to itself, entirely cold, absolutely inhuman’’
(Latour, 1999, p. 9). While this observation is founded on an assessment of the
philosophical weaknesses of phenomenology, we only need to look at the de facto
absence of the use of palaeoenvironmental evidence in much phenomenological

Correspondence Address: Kevin Walsh, Department of Archaeology, The King’s Manor, University of
York, York Y01 7EP, UK. Email: kjw7@york.ac.uk

ISSN 0142-6397 Print/1469-9710 Online/08/050547-18 Ó 2008 Landscape Research Group Ltd

DOI: 10.1080/01426390802323773
 548 K. Walsh

writing in archaeology to realise that this split exists within landscape archaeology.
Phenomenology thus prioritizes human experience. This person-centred world denies
a role for the world, in all its non-human forms, to influence us, but we are a part of
the world/nature/environment, not the centre of it. Meanwhile, most environmental
reconstructions (written by environmental archaeologists or physical geographers)
employ discourses that are removed from direct engagement with the cultural sphere.
Marginality as an idea is also treated in very different ways by phenomenologists
and environmental scientists. The former tend to consider marginality as a modern
cultural construct, often employed by processual archaeologists as part of
environmentally deterministic discourses. While this criticism might be partly true,
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

the problem with the ways in which environmental scientists employ notions such as
marginality and environmental degradation is that they are underpinned by the
implicit construction of the environment or landscape as a black box influenced by
climate and human impact. This paper endeavours to present an approach that
integrates environmental processes and notions of marginality as fluid constructs in a
discourse that avoids the artificial separation of environment and culture.
The divide between environment and culture is something that often manifests
itself in the ways in which archaeology is managed and written. Archaeological
reports often commence with a description of geology, topography, soils and
perhaps current vegetation. The palaeoenvironmental work often sits on its own in
separate chapters (often towards the end of the report), and when exploited, it is used
to inform reconstructions of economy. It is the use of environmental archaeology in
the reconstruction of the evolution of Homo economicus that has underpinned the
development of this sub-discipline. The study of changes in the so-called natural
environment that may have been induced by anthropogenic or climatic processes
constitutes another important topic. Within Mediterranean landscape archaeology,
this theme is especially important. Here, people often consider how the histories of
Mediterranean landscapes are characterised by degradation and the evolution of
marginal environments. This is best presented by the notion of the ‘fall from Eden’
(for critiques of this notion, see Butzer, 2005; Grove & Rackham, 2001).
Another problem is that in many archaeological publications, environmental
evidence is merely employed as secondary data that is used to paint an opaque
backdrop against which cultural activity is played out. There are, of course, some
exceptions, such as Brown’s (2000) convincing argument for the active creation of
woodland clearings as a part of prehistoric ritual activity, or the appeal from some
quarters to incorporate palaeoecological data more effectively in the production of
cultural syntheses (Edmonds, 1999). Another reason for the relegation of
environmental evidence to a subsidiary role in many archaeological discourses is
due to the hierarchy within archaeology as a discipline. Many of the dominant
figures in the subject would consider themselves to be ‘cultural’ archaeologists with
an interest in the ‘big’ cultural questions. This does not mean that environmental
evidence is forgotten, but it does not have the same primacy as other types of data.
Climate data and other broad-scale environmental information are employed in
attempts to answer these big questions, such as the transition to farming, or the
collapse of a civilisation. They are, however, rarely employed in small-scale, focussed
studies that attempt to understand how people engaged with local environmental
processes. Despite this, the importance of appreciating the relationships between
 Mediterranean Marginality and the Culture–Nature ‘Divide’ 549

topography and monuments has been espoused by some archaeologists (e.g. Bradley,
2000), while anthropologists have demonstrated cross-cultural variation in attitudes
towards natural resources (Owoc & Boivin, 2004).
The two case studies presented below provide examples of site-specific studies that
can help us understand how past societies engaged with their landscapes and the
environmental processes that altered those landscapes. Both case studies are
concerned with sites that are in landscapes that would be considered by many as
environmentally marginal, or risk-laden. The first case study offers an interpretation
of a wetland, while the second assesses an Alpine site at almost 2000 m above sea level.
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

Mediterranean Landscapes and the Culture–Nature Divide

There is little doubt that the various types of environmental evidence employed in
landscape reconstruction (in particular, geoarchaeology) can be employed in
discourses that avoid the typical culture–nature divide. Moreover, that evidence
can also be used to consider the importance of non-human agency and the
transformative influences of non-human features and processes in the landscape.
This contribution presents such a discourse through the application of Actor-
Network Theory (ANT) to two landscape archaeological research projects from
Mediterranean France (Figure 1). There are many problems with ANT, not least the

Figure 1. Location of the case studies.

 550 K. Walsh

jargon. Here, I wish to consider how ANT might allow us to reconsider human–
environment relationships at the scale of particular sites where we have evidence for
specific environmental processes along with archaeological information that allows
us to assess relationships with ‘nature’ that would have been quite different to our
own. There are undoubtedly some readers who will ask: ‘‘Why do we need to employ
ANT at all? We can develop this form of discourse without recourse to yet another
body of (French) theory’’. Despite the inherent problems with ‘over-theorising’, we
do need an awareness of the specifics of approaches such as ANT, as the
development of ‘culturally deep’ interpretations must possess a well-founded
theoretical framework that should be made apparent to the reader. In this
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

contribution, the theoretical agenda is designed to develop discussions on the

notion of environmental marginality, and how this might be treated by
archaeologists.
Assessments of marginality are quite common in landscape and environmental
archaeology. One thing that most researchers agree on is that marginality has many
definitions that include environmental, economic, political and cultural perspectives
(Coles, 1998; Green, 2005; Walsh & Mocci, 2003). However, it might be that
marginality is not a useful term, especially in attempts to understand specific groups
of people and their engagements with and perceptions of the landscape. Marginality
as a term is largely a product of totalising histories or archaeologies that attempt to
interpret processes over large geographical spaces. As comparisons are made
between ‘economically productive cores’, and economically/environmentally mar-
ginal peripheries, the notion of marginality almost becomes second nature as we look
down on maps of land quality, settlement distribution and hierarchy.
As a number of recent works have demonstrated, an important underlying theme
in Mediterranean landscape archaeology is the notion of a fall from Eden, or the
culpability of humanity in the destruction of a once supposedly pristine landscape
(Horden & Purcell, 2000; Grove & Rackham, 2001; Butzer, 2005). For some authors,
many Mediterranean landscapes can be characterised as ruined and marginal; their
histories characterised by a downward spiral of degradation, with humans and
climate working together to ensure their blight. However, recent writings attempt to
demonstrate how the characterisation of Mediterranean environments as marginal
and degraded has been misplaced. Horden and Purcell (2000) feel that while certain
Mediterranean niches are not always productive in isolation, once we see the various
niches as nodes within an integrated network of production, the whole is so much
greater than the sum of the parts. For them, the process of degradation is overstated
as people have continuously managed to exploit the various niches across the
Mediterranean through adaptive strategies which have guaranteed success and
avoided disaster (Horden & Purcell, 2000). While some aspects of these more recent
publications have engendered new and useful debates within Mediterranean
landscape archaeology and history, these discourses are still essentially etic. They
implicitly deny the importance of trying to understand how ordinary people may
have engaged with and constructed their own landscapes, and in particular, how they
dealt with environmental processes. In order to understand landscape change in the
Mediterranean (or indeed, any area) we need to move away from cause/effect
analyses of environmental processes where people are treated as anonymous
processes disembedded from their landscapes.
 Mediterranean Marginality and the Culture–Nature ‘Divide’ 551

Actor-Network Theory and Non-human Agency

The construction of the society–nature dualism was an attempt by modernity to
oversimplify the complex network of relationships that exist between people and
nature by constructing two artificial entities (society and nature) that could be studied
in isolation from one another (Castree & MacMillan, 2001, p. 212). However, this
process did not start with the industrial revolution and the emergence of modern
science, but has existed in many societies where people were no longer directly living,
working with, and experiencing environmental processes as part of their everyday
lives. Also, we should not forget that in many belief systems the environment was
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

provided by God for humanity’s benefit (Barry, 1999, p. 18), providing a precursor to
the modern creation of a nature–society dualism in Western thought.
Employing ideas derived from Actor-Network Theory, and associated notions of
non-human agency and hybridity (Braun & Castree, 2001; Latour, 1991, 2005), allows
us to consider how environmental and cultural landscape archaeologies can be
integrated with one another. Within ANT (as applied here), non-human agency is
constituted by the potential active (social and cultural) roles that non-human agents
have in the landscape. The non-human agents in this instance comprise the biological
and geological/geomorphological elements that are present in any landscape. All that
is social is mediated through heterogeneous networks, which include the different
elements that exist within the environment and comprise landscape (or nature).
Latour (1997) considers that all elements within a network should be studied as
equivalents. Therefore, in landscape archaeology, objects, people, environmental pro-
cesses, and as many as possible of the threads that influence these categories, should
be considered as part of the network. Latour (1997) appeals for a ‘‘symmetrical
anthropology’’ with neither nature nor society taking a dominant role in the research
process, let alone in the interpretative discourse. Networks are thus comprised of
symmetrical relationships between human and non-human agents (Latour, 1991).
The final and critical element within ANT is the notion of hybrids. Hybrids are
essentially entities that develop at the nexus of a network, and can take the form of
technological objects, human-made structures (their materials), natural features, and
many other forms that are managed, or influenced by both human and non-human
agents. Science, nature, politics, economy, ideology and culture all influence the
development of hybrids. Erosion is one such example of a hybrid. The problem of
soil loss is at the nexus of multiple political, natural, economic and social processes
that define and redefine what soil loss is, and why it is important. The International
Soil Reference and Information Centre/United Nations Environment Programme
consider that soil degradation can be defined ‘‘. . . as the lowering of current and/or
future soil capability to produce goods or services’’ (Tolba et al., 1992, p. 148). This
is a very specific definition, characteristic of an instrumental attitude towards the
environment and responses to environmental problems that are largely concerned
with relieving food shortages and environmental catastrophe in the contemporary
world. Non-governmental bodies, or charities, construct notions of disaster in many
regions around the world via scientific advisors who have a very clear conception of
how to measure and engage with soil loss as a phenomenon. The eroding soil, as a
non-human agent, influences the manner in which this group of scientists perceive
and measure the process. They employ scientific formulae, such as the Universal Soil
 552 K. Walsh

Loss Equation, and create a very specific understanding of what soil loss is, and how
it should be remedied. In fact, the very process of sampling and application of
scientific descriptors dramatically alters the reality of the soil or sediment. As Latour
observed in his anthropological study of environmental scientists working in the
Amazon, ‘‘Only the movement of substitution [placing the sample onto a subdivided
board called a pedocomparator] by which the real soil becomes the soil known to
pedology counts’’ (Latour, 1999, p. 51). Once this initial scientific process has ended,
grants may then be given by a charity or non-governmental organisations to mitigate
erosion, and the success of these grant-supported projects will once again be
measured using very specific and, in some ways, peculiar scientific methodologies. In
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

recent years, however, we have seen the emergence of studies that also consider the
social and cultural factors contributing to soil erosion. These have, for example,
shown how the imposition of agricultural systems unsuited to particular landscapes
has caused environmental problems (e.g. Bishaw, 2001; Clay & Lewis, 1990; Tegene,
2000). There have also been studies that assess culturally specific knowledge of soil
systems and their variations across landscapes (Steiner, 1998). It is the lattice of
different political, economic, scientific and natural processes (the human and non-
human agents) that leads to the emergence of the hybrid.
Hybrids are spatially and temporally specific. The case studies below, a Roman
watermill and Iron Age burnt mound, can be considered as hybrids whose
characteristics are influenced by their locations in landscapes that can quite easily be
considered as environmentally marginal. Notions of marginality and landscape
degradation in archaeology and palaeoenvironmental science are constructed using
scientifically rational discourses that are oriented towards discussions of human and
climatic impact that cause losses in productivity. More culturally nuanced
assessments of human–landscape dynamics might emerge if we redefine and give
agency to the processes that are responsible for landscape degradation and the
emergence of marginal milieus. This agency, where environmental processes act
upon people, also possesses meanings that are contingent upon time, place, society
and social class.
Actor-Network Theory has already proved popular in some areas of Human
Geography. Perhaps one application that is pertinent to the use of ANT in landscape
research is Jones and Cloke’s (2002) assessment of the different roles and
characteristics that trees possess in various societies. For them, trees possess agency
in that they have a creative capacity (agency) (Jones & Cloke, 2002, p. 5). This notion
of non-human agency differs from cultural constructions associated with trees (e.g.
the notion of a species being ‘native’ or ‘alien’). Trees, and other non-human agents,
will ‘behave’ in a number of different ways: some of this behaviour is predictable
through ecological modelling; while other forms of creative, unpredictable behaviour,
such as trees dying unexpectedly, or growing in an unexpected place or manner, may
force a response from humans. Therefore, non-human agency is NOT equivalent to
human agency, but it does imbue ‘nature’ with a more active role, one that rescues it
from the passive backdrop against which humanity pursues its own endeavours
without the need to respond to the creativity of nature, or non-human agency.
Hopefully, it is now apparent that ANT does not reduce people and other
elements (animals, objects, geomorphology) to equivalent categories. Rather, it
claims that people without these complex networks would be different and it is the
 Mediterranean Marginality and the Culture–Nature ‘Divide’ 553

relationships with the network that constitute the social and the person
(Latour, 2005).

ANT is not interested only in freeing human actors from the prison of the social
but in offering natural objects an occasion to escape the narrow cell given to
matters of fact by the first empiricism. (Latour, 2005, p. 114)

The same is true of the environment and the processes therein. Without the
presence of people in the network, they too would be different and this is where the
notion of non-human agency becomes important (Law, 2003). This is not environ-
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

mental determinism in another guise, as the consequences of agency are unpredict-

able, culturally mediated, and specific to different times, places and individuals (Jones
& Cloke, 2002). While a symmetrical approach to the study of landscapes implies that
equal credence should always be given to both human and non-human agents, some
distinctions between nature and society are necessary. Murdoch (2001, p. 129)
suggests that we place the study of ‘ecologies’ on a continuum, with one end
designating situations where the ‘social’ is dominant, and the other end, situations
where the ‘natural’ is more important; most cases would, of course, be situated
somewhere between the two. Consequently, the discussion below of archaeological
sites situated in marginal environments attempts to articulate a network of
relationships between people and environment that presents marginality in a different
light; a notion that is specific to time, space, and even the social class of the individuals
who experienced these sites and associated landscapes. Within landscape archaeology
our networks should normally attempt to consider the full range of human actions, as
well as ‘natural’ processes. Therefore, we should ideally assess actants such as objects
(flint, pottery, etc.), ecofacts (animal bone, seeds, charcoal), features on the site
(burial pits, walls, etc.), and the processes that constitute the so-called natural
environment. This contribution will mention as many of these elements as possible,
but the aim is merely to construct a partial network, and consider the potential role of
geomorphological and topographical agency in the landscape.

Case Studies
Barbegal: Erosion as a Non-human Actant
The geoarchaeological work on the Roman watermill and aqueduct at Barbegal (in
the Vallée des Baux, 7 km to the east of Arles in Western Provence (Figure 1)) aimed
to assess the history of erosion at this important archaeological site (one of the most
impressive pieces of hydraulic engineering in the Roman world). For much of its past,
the Vallée des Baux has been a wetland of some sort. More interesting from our
perspective, is the debate regarding the utility of wetlands versus the potential dangers
or risks, especially that of disease (see chapter VI.5 in Horden & Purcell, 2000). Some
scholars see wetlands as niches that are environmentally marginal and therefore
unproductive and dangerous due to the presence of malaria (see Sallares, 2002, for a
detailed analysis of the history of malaria in the Mediterranean). A number of
everyday terms characterise wetlands in a pejorative manner: one can be swamped
with work, or one can be bogged down (Mitsch & Gosselink, 1993, p. 12). However,
 554 K. Walsh

many wetland zones are in fact incredibly rich in resources (especially in terms of fish
and fowl), and malaria has not always been present, and many are now valued
internationally for their biodiversity under the Ramsar Convention. Moreover, some
wetlands, especially their edges, have been used for agriculture, and some societies
have endeavoured to drain wetlands in order to gain permanent agricultural lands.
As with many wetlands, climate change and, more importantly, direct human
intervention have altered the state of the Vallée des Baux. Palaeoenvironmental work
demonstrated that during the Roman period the area was drained (Leveau et al.,
2000), but returned to wetland conditions at the very end of this period. In fact,
during the third to fourth centuries AD a small number of individuals (four of whom
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

have been excavated) were buried at the foot of the then abandoned watermill. The
burial trenches were cut into the hydromorphic clay that would have been at the edge
of the water of this now unmanaged wetland. This demonstrates how this locality re-
emerged as a zone that was less economically productive towards the end of the
Empire. It seems unlikely that this area would have been used for burial if this land
was still economically productive.
The Roman watermill at Barbegal is an impressive piece of hydraulic engineering,
and one of the most important in the Roman world. The mill comprised two parallel
sets of six water-wheels used for grinding corn. The mill was supplied with water by
an extensive aqueduct system that also supplied the city of Arles to the west. The mill
sits upon the south-facing slope of a limestone ridge (Figure 2). Different parts of the
site were excavated during the 20th century (Benoit, 1940; Leveau, 1995; Leveau

Figure 2. Left: Aerial view of the limestone bar with the Barbegal mill and the wetland area to
the south. Right: View of the mill from the south.
 Mediterranean Marginality and the Culture–Nature ‘Divide’ 555

et al., 2000). The most recent excavations included extensive geoarchaeological work
on, and adjacent to, the mill. This work aimed to reconstruct the characteristics of
the immediate landscape. During the excavation of the lower part of the mill, a
geoarchaeological section was dug, recorded and sampled. The details of the
sedimentary units have been published elsewhere (Leveau et al., 2000; Walsh, 2004).
The most important result of this work was the discovery that the earliest units in
this geomorphological section (Figure 3) were in fact Roman, followed by medieval
and post-medieval units. Therefore, it was apparent that any earlier pre-Roman
sediment was removed during the mill’s construction. It is obvious from this
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

Figure 3. Geoarchaeological section from the foot of the Barbegal mill.

 556 K. Walsh

sedimentary sequence that during the period when the mill was active, the area
around the mill was cleared and maintained as part of its management. The
investment in this agro-industrial enterprise via the Roman economic system
circumvented or ignored the risks and inconveniences of a wetland that has been
environmentally marginal during many periods during the past. We know that
before and after the Roman period, this area was inundated and suffered from all of
the problems associated with Mediterranean wetlands, the most important of these
being mosquito infestation and malaria. This marginality was overcome through the
exploitation of labour (perhaps slaves) and the use of complex technology to manage
the drainage system and clear eroded sediment.
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

The ever-present erosion was not merely an inconvenience that had to be removed,
but it was an environmental process that acted upon the workers who had to remove
these sediments. This process was thus culturally transformative, in that it condi-
tioned or affected the lives of these workers. It is the relationship between the human
and non-human agents that is absent from the macro-scale discourses promoted by
many archaeologists and ancient historians. If we accept that the mill, with its
aqueduct, constitutes a ‘hybrid’—a phenomenon that develops in the network where
distinctions between the social and the natural do not exist—we must be careful. The
watermill at Barbegal was the product of a very specific socio-economic system; the
Roman Empire, with its desire to manipulate and control nature through complex
forms of engineering. The Roman managers possibly had an asymmetric view of the
world, in which humans could control and manage the environment as part of their
endeavour to maximise economic output. In this instance, the mill and its managers
were responsible for the coercion of the labour at, and around, the mill and forced
these people to remove any eroded sediments and upkeep the site and its environs.
As Green and Lemon (1996) have demonstrated for modern day Epirus, farmers
seem unconcerned by erosion. It is just something that happens and is dealt with as
part of an established system of responses. Most societies demonstrate resilience in
the face of menacing environmental processes. High-frequency events, such as soil
erosion induced by annual storms, are often ‘shifted’ to occur at a lower frequency
(Redman & Kinzig, 2003). This ‘shifting’ transpires through technological and
cultural management practices that are specific to each society. We have to consider
how the erosion at Barbegal formed a specific hybrid, influenced by the various
economic, technological, cultural, ideological and non-human agents present in the
Roman landscape. For the mill owners, eroded sediment was an environmental
problem that detracted from the efficient running of the mill and had to be removed.
The Roman view of landscape control and management, where order was the prime
concern, resulted in sediment clearance emerging as a management imperative.
However, for the workers or slaves at Barbegal, the sediment (our non-human agent
and hybrid) would have created a task that had to be completed under coercion from
the mill-owners or managers. In this instance, the hybrid is constituted by the mill
and its relationship with the landscape; a piece of engineering that exploits natural
power, and is a product of a social system that had a very instrumental and rational
attitude towards the environment. Such instrumental or economically rational
attitudes to the landscape, and the environmental processes therein, also contributed
to the articulation of a specific attitude to erosion and its management. The issue of
temporal scale is also important, along with the notion of the palimpsest (Bailey,
 Mediterranean Marginality and the Culture–Nature ‘Divide’ 557

2007). The case study presented here is concerned with a site where the
sedimentological record has been reworked, and where many earlier sediments have
been removed. Moreover, the erosional events occurred over periods of time that we
cannot precisely date. The sediments examined in the field may well cumulatively
represent processes that took place over the ‘long term’, however, we can be sure that
the processes responsible for the deposition of these sediments were experienced by
people who lived and worked on or near these sites. It is their direct relationships
with these non-human agents that are important.
As with many environmental processes, there would also have been a temporal
aspect to the relationship between people and erosion at Barbegal. Colluviation in a
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

Mediterranean environment is invariably cyclical, often associated with late summer

and autumn storms. Thus, the sedimentation and its removal may well have acted as a
temporal marker within the annual round of tasks. If, however, the cycle was pluri-
annual (on a five-, ten-, or 50-year cycle, for example), we then need to consider the
issue of social memory. All environmental processes have a past (the event, or the
evidence thereof), a present (the state of the environment as perceived at a point in
time), and a future (an appreciation/understanding of how/when this process might
reoccur and its implications for landscape, economy, etc.) bestowing a temporal
quality upon the hybrid (the mill and its relationship with the erosional processes that
affected it). As societies become more complex, the decisions regarding how such
environmental processes should be understood, and responded to, may be made by
people who do not actually work the land. Thus, the perceived temporality and
transformative characteristics of the environmental processes are contingent upon how
the process is experienced: the landowner may associate erosion with a fall in
production and a loss of profit, while the peasant or slave would see a physical task—
sediment that had to be removed. As such, the non-human agent is transformative but
heterogeneous in its influences on different actors within and beyond the actual
environmental niche. Such workaday jobs are always social, and are embedded within
a socially constructed landscape. The heterogeneity of different peoples’ engagements
would also have been class and gender based. Actions and being within any landscape
become more heterogeneous as social hierarchies become more complex. Labour is
increasingly divided and subdivided between different groups, and certain activities
would have led to alienation. Thus, the temporality of landscape (Ingold, 1993, p. 159)
is social, but in certain societies it is controlled/influenced/manipulated by social elites,
who in turn influence the understandings and perceptions that workers would have had
of non-human agents, including erosion. We should also question whether it is
appropriate to more universally apply Ingold’s (2000) assertion that, in some societies,
‘knowledge’ is key to engagements with the world. In societies with deep hierarchical
structures, such as empires with slaves, knowledge of a landscape, or taskscape may
not be essential, and may in fact only exist in forms that are initially mediated by
landowners, or managers of labour and then, after time, via personal relationships that
develop with co-workers. This is especially true for slaves who are brought in from
outside, and for whom the taskscape is entirely new and alien, or an imposed discipline.
Despite the economic success of the mill and its central role in the regional eco-
nomy, the characteristics that made this landscape marginal during other periods
would still have been present to some extent. Despite Roman draining and
management of the Vallée des Baux, the area would still have been humid, and
 558 K. Walsh

mosquitoes—and the potential for malaria—were undoubtedly still present. However,

it was the people who worked the mill who suffered these inconveniencies. Therefore,
while this landscape was a ‘core’ and economically productive locale for the Empire, it
may still have been an unpleasant and disagreeable environment for the workers.
Once the mill stopped functioning (during the late third or fourth century AD), the
network of relationships in this area changed dramatically. As wetland character-
istics re-established themselves after the demise of Roman management systems,
layers of eroded sediment built up the hill slopes upon which the mill had been
constructed. These actants produced a very different network of relationships with
local people who no longer saw this area as the site of an impressive piece of
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

agricultural engineering, but as one that was perhaps unproductive, an area where
the environmental processes could no longer be controlled. In short, while it may
have been an economically marginal place, it was at the same time a ritually liminal
and important place, and thus a locale where people could be buried.

Les Sagnes: An Iron Age Burnt Mound and its Alluvial Fan
As discussed above, the temporality of many landscapes is increasingly controlled as
societies become more complex and hierarchical. Rites and feasts are an integral part of
Ingold’s taskscape, as are boundary markers (Ingold, 1993). Most boundary markers
possess temporal characteristics that are often associated with people, activities, and
cycles of time. They represent and mediate the longue durée, which includes the time of
social memory, as well as immediate, personal time. Such is the case of the fourth
century BC burnt mound at Les Sagnes. Here we have a site and its landscape that
existed/exists on many different temporal and spatial scales within a network of complex
relationships between people and various non-human elements within the landscape.
Burnt mounds are usually sites that represent cooking and feasting, and these events are
often considered to possess a ritual element. Some of these sites may even include
evidence for human burial (more detail on the Sagnes mound is given below). While the
characteristics of burnt mounds can vary, they often comprise evidence for cooking with
hearths, heated stones and other debris associated with cooking and feasting. Such
evidence would normally comprise carbonised wood from the fires and animal bone.
Large mounds, such as that at Les Sagnes, are normally interpreted as having had a
communal function associated with group feasting. While the majority of burnt mounds
in Europe have a Bronze Age date, mounds dated to the Iron Age and Roman period
are not unknown (Larsson, 1990). The example from Les Sagnes is dated to the middle-
late Iron Age (between c. 400 and 150 BC). There are few comparable sites in the region,
or in the Alps as a whole. There are, however, some similar sites in the eastern and
central Alps. Examples of burnt mounds considered to be cultic places have been found
in the Trentino area, and the southern Tyrol between 800 and 2500 m (Dalmeri &
Marzatico, 2002; Mahlknecht, 2005; Marzatico, 2002; Niederwanger, 1990). These sites
were used during the Late Bronze Age and the Iron Age.

The Mound and its Milieu

The Les Sagnes burnt mound is situated to the east of the town of Barcelonette in the
Ubaye Valley in the southern French Alps (Figure 1). Situated at 1900 m above sea
 Mediterranean Marginality and the Culture–Nature ‘Divide’ 559

level in front of a lake and a dramatic peak, la Tour des Sagnes (Figure 4), this Iron
Age ritual site is set within a landscape comprising iconic peaks, flowing water,
standing water (the lake), on an important inter-valley route.
For many, the high altitude zone (2000 m and above) is a physically marginal
zone, one which should be avoided, as such an area might be considered by some as
economically marginal, and a space which is dark and full of danger. The combined
effect of non-human agents such as mountain peaks, springs, avalanches, debris fall,
extreme weather events, etc. would have resulted in the cultural construction of a
landscape imbued with many different meanings and associations. While such a
space may have been economically marginal (as inferred from the relative dearth of
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

settlement sites for this period), this does not mean that this area did not have an
important ideological role via myth and ceremony. In fact, the very non-human
agents that constitute economic marginality also contribute to the construction of

Figure 4. Top: Panoramic view of the landscape around Les Sagnes. Bottom: View of the burnt
mound and alluvial fan.
 560 K. Walsh

this area as a core within the local Iron Age cosmos. As we will see below, the
geomorphological and topographical features that constitute this alpine zone were
key elements for the builders of, and those who subsequently engaged with, the burnt
mound at Les Sagnes.

The Burnt Mound and its Relationships with the Environment

The burnt mound itself comprises successive levels of charcoal, ashes, animal bone
(cattle, pig, sheep, wild boar and deer) and more than 6735 pottery sherds within a
total depth of c. 1.4 m (Garcia et al., 2006). The mound was about 14 metres in
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

diameter. Despite the presence of burial pits beneath the burnt layers (two of which
were formed by stone cist constructions), very few human remains survive. There
were also three other pits that had been used for fires, or even ‘Polynesian ovens’—
structured groups of stones that were heated and used to maintain levels of heat once
fired for cooking and warmth. The 14C dates and pottery centre on the middle Iron
Age (centred on 300 BC).
This burnt mound was located on an alluvial fan (Figure 4). This fan was
undoubtedly active during the early part of the Holocene, and perhaps active during
the Neolithic as a result of early agriculturalists clearing woodland and enhancing
the potential for erosion in this area (Jorda, 1978, 1987; Muller & Jorda, n.d.). The
presence of Neolithic flint on the fan surface, beneath the Iron Age burials, suggests
that the principal part of this fan stabilized at some point during the Neolithic, or
Bronze Age. More importantly, the fan was certainly not active when the mound was
constructed and used during the Iron Age. However, at some point after this period,
the mountain stream responsible for the formation of the fan migrated to the north
of the mound and eroded its northern edge. Other than this quite ephemeral damage,
the mound remained intact until this century when the works on a small hydro-
electric station damaged the site.
During the Iron Age, the mound may well have been a cultic place, visited by
people on a number of occasions. The animal bone evidence, combined with the
impressive record of burning events, implies cooking and feasting. The sheer
quantity of material suggests a number of burning/feasting events, implying reuse of
this mound and a temporal depth spanning a number of years or decades. Once the
phase of active cultic use (or creation of the burnt mound) came to a close, the
mound continued to exist as an important place, perhaps even a way-mark on this
often-used route from the Alpes-Maritimes to the eastern-central French Alps. This,
or indeed any burnt mound, and the topographic structure upon which it was built,
might be considered as a hybrid, the product of a network where the human and
non-human agents interact to form an entity that is neither purely social nor natural.
The non-human agents (the fan, the erosion, the association with the torrent, plus
the topography dominated by the Tour des Sagnes) intersected with the human
actants (burning, discard of pottery, feasting and the subsequent deposition of
animal bones). It is this symmetry within the network of human and non-human
agents that constitutes the hybrid. People perhaps chose to construct the mound here
because of the torrent (which had migrated just to the south of the alluvial fan by the
Neolithic) and the alluvial fan: a social process that represented defiance of, or even
attraction to, these non-human processes, perhaps comprising some understanding
 Mediterranean Marginality and the Culture–Nature ‘Divide’ 561

of the possibility that this was in fact the most stable point in the landscape. Within
actor-network theory this demonstrates how non-human agents act upon the
landscape. These environmental processes are thus in some ways ‘responsible’ for
the construction of the mound itself and the various burning/feasting events. Were
the builders able to predict the stability of the zone, thus implying a long-term social
memory of environmental processes and risks? Perhaps all that needs to be said here
is that the watercourse, its sediments and the fan were all undoubtedly more than
mere environmental processes. In one way or another, they possessed cultural
agency, and had a transformative role for the people who lived in this landscape.
Moreover, the characteristics and role of this hybrid would have evolved over time.
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

After the Iron Age, the site continued to act as a marker within this landscape.
Located on this important axis of communication, often taken by shepherds and
travellers, the hybrid provided evidence of humanity’s interaction with, and perhaps
even understanding of, this landscape. The relationships between so-called social and
natural processes influencing the mound are best represented by the mythological
qualities associated with the high-alpine zone. During the Iron Age, complex series
of human and non-human constituted religions existed across Europe. These
religions were often naturalistic and the mountain deities that existed were often
associated with the sky, while others, associated with mountain summits, were
considered to be weather entities (Green, 2004, pp. 64 – 65). Perhaps perceived as an
undomesticated space, this area, with its torrent and the associated erosion, may
have been seen as the highest, or ‘final’, examples of these processes in the
landscape—those that were closest to the sky. One could go a long way imagining
the connotations of these environmental characteristics.

Conclusions
The historical and scientific discourses that have influenced the ways in which
landscape archaeologists interpret and write about the past have tended to
perpetuate asymmetric views of society and nature, treating them as two separate
entities. More recently, constructivist (the notion that all knowledge is socially
‘constructed’ and does not necessarily reflect physical reality), and post-structuralist
approaches to the study of landscape have tended to avoid issues of environmental
process, or change (as informed by palaeoenvironmental evidence), or how people
dealt with the harsh realities that would have characterised life in some landscapes.
The sediments and associated features presented in the case studies above were, and
are, far more than geoarchaeological records of climatic or anthropogenic impact on
geomorphic systems. They are also a reflection of the complex cultural and social
relationships that existed between people and their landscapes. Engagement with any
environment involves risk, and interaction with and perception of the non-human
agents that comprise the landscape. Such engagements are contingent upon time,
place and position within the social order (and even these categories are problematic
and fluid). In complex societies, attitudes to, and constructions of, marginality are
varied. Butzer (2005 [1798]) has demonstrated that most discussions of human–
environment interaction in the Mediterranean do not adequately articulate the role
of people as individual actors who can form ‘‘collective pillar[s] of resilience’’ vis-à-
vis landscape deterioration. His synthesis of work from Greece demonstrates how
 562 K. Walsh

people might have adapted to the exigencies of landscape change within agricultural
landscapes. This is somewhat different to the specific instance of coerced labour on
an agro-industrial site such as Barbegal. Resilience here existed at the macro-
economic scale, via the manipulation of labour on sites across the empire. The
‘adaptive-strategy’ here was not developed as part of erosion mitigation, but as part
of a need and desire to maintain an efficient piece of agro-engineering. At Les
Sagnes, the use of an erosional feature in an alpine landscape in the development of a
ritual site had nothing to do with resilience, or adapting in the face of landscape
degradation. Here, the marginal high altitude zone was incorporated through rituals,
and attitudes that comprised a certain defiance of, or attraction to, the dominant
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

environmental processes. In both of the studies presented above, the so-called

natural environment acted upon the inhabitants of these landscapes in many
different ways, and the dynamic relationship between the human and non-human
agents formed quite specific landscapes where notions of marginality were perhaps
irrelevant, or quite different to today’s conceptions of marginality.

Acknowledgments
The case studies employed in this paper are the fruits of collaborative work. In
particular, I should like to thank Professor Philippe Leveau for his support over the
last 13 years and especially for the opportunity to direct an excavation at Barbegal.
The research in the Ubaye Valley is a collaborative project with Professor
Dominique Garcia and Florence Mocci of the Centre Camille Jullian, (University
of Provence/CNRS Aix-en-Provence). I have also benefited from the support (on
and off site) of Vincent Dumas (Centre Camille Jullian, CNRS), as well as numerous
friends and students who have worked with us over the years. My gratitude also goes
to Tony Brown, Mark Edmonds, Paul Lane and Nicky Milner for commenting on
drafts of this paper.

References
Bailey, G. (2007) Time perspectives, palimpsests and the archaeology of time, Journal of Anthropological
Archaeology, 26(2), pp. 198–223.
Barry, J. (1999) Environment and Social Theory (London: Routledge).
Benoit, F. (1940) L’usine de meunerie hydraulique de Barbegal (Arles), Revue Arche´ologique, 15, pp. 19–80.
Bishaw, B. (2001) Deforestation and land degradation in the Ethiopian Highlands: a strategy for physical
recovery, Northeast African Studies, 8(1), pp. 7–26.
Bradley, R. (2000) An Archaeology of Natural Places (London: Routledge).
Braun, B. & Castree, N. (2001) Social Nature: Theory, Practice and Politics (Oxford and New York:
Blackwell).
Brown, A. G. (2000) Floodplain vegetation history: Clearings as potential ritual spaces?, in: A. S.
Fairbairn (Ed.) Plants in Neolithic Britain and Beyond, pp. 50–62 (Oxford: Oxbow).
Butzer, K. W. (2005) Environmental history in the Mediterranean world: cross-disciplinary investigation
of cause-and-effect for degradation and soil erosion, Journal of Archaeological Science, 32(12), pp. 1773–
1800.
Castree, N. & MacMillan, T. (2001) Disolving dualisms: actor-networks and the reimagination of nature,
in: N. Castree & B. Braun (Eds) Social Nature: Theory, Practice, and Politics, pp. 208–224 (Oxford:
Blackwell).
Clay, D. C. & Lewis, L. A. (1990) Land use, soil loss, and sustainable agriculture in Rwanda, Human
Ecology, 18(2), pp. 147–161.
 Mediterranean Marginality and the Culture–Nature ‘Divide’ 563

Coles, G. M. (1998) Life on the Edge: Proceedings of the 1992 AEA Conference at Edinburgh (Oxford:
Oxbow).
Dalmeri, A. & Marzatico, F. (2002) Nuova acquisizioni dal Dosso di S. Rocco di Pejo (Val Di Sole -
Trentino), Archeologiadelle Alpi, 2, pp. 47–55.
Edmonds, M. (1999) Inhabiting Neolithic landscapes, Journal of Quaternary Science, 14(6), pp. 485–492.
Garcia, D., Mocci, F. & Walsh, K. (2006) Archéologie de la vallée de l’Ubaye (Alpes-de-Haute-Provence,
France): presentation des premiers résultats d’un Projet collectif de Recherche, in: P. Della Casa &
K. Walsh (Eds) Interpretation of Sites and Material Culture from Mid-high Altitude Mountain
Environments. Preistoria Alpina, 42, pp. 23–48.
Green, M. (2004) The Gods of the Celts (Stroud: Sutton).
Green, S. (2005) Notes from the Balkans: Locating Marginality and Ambiguity on the Greek-Albanian
Border (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press).
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

Green, S. & Lemon, J. (1996) Perceptual landscapes in agrarian systems: degradation processes in North-
Western Epirus and the Argolid Valley, Greece, Ecumene, 3(2), pp. 181–199.
Grove, A. T. & Rackham, O. (2001) The Nature of Mediterranean Europe: An Ecological History (New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press).
Horden, P. & Purcell, N. (2000) The Corrupting Sea: A Study of Mediterranean History (Oxford:
Blackwell).
Ingold, T. (1993) The temporality of the landscape, World Archaeology, 25(2), pp. 152–174.
Ingold, T. (2000) The Perception of the Environment: Essays in Livelihood, Dwelling and Skill (London:
Routledge).
Jones, O. & Cloke, P. (2002) Tree Cultures: The Place Of Trees and Trees in Their Place (Oxford: Berg).
Jorda, M. (1978) La torrentialité Holocène des Alpes françaises du sud: facteurs anthropiques et
paramètres naturels de son évolution, Doc.18 F. Multigr, Université de Provence, Instit. De Géographie
3533.
Jorda, M. (1987) Morphogénèse postglaciaire des regions intra-Alpines Française du sud. Le basin de
Barcelonnette (Ubaye) du tardiglaciaire au subboreal, 95, Premieres Communautes Paysannes en
Mediterranee Occidentale, pp. 357–365 (Paris: Colloque International du C.N.R.S., Montpellier (1983)).
Larsson, T. B. (1990) Skarvstenshogar—the burnt mounds of Sweden, in: V. Buckley (Ed.) Burnt
Offerings, pp. 142–153 (Dublin: Wordwell).
Latour, B. (1991) We Have Never Been Modern (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
Latour, B. (1997) Nous n’avons Jamais Ete´ Modernes (Paris: La Découverte).
Latour, B. (1999) Pandora’s Hope: Essays on the Reality of Science Studies (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press).
Latour, B. (2005) Reassembling the Social: An Introduction to Actor-Network-Theory (Oxford: Oxford
University Press).
Law, J. (2003) Notes on the Theory of the Actor Network: Ordering, Strategy and Heterogeneity, Centre
for Science Studies, Lancaster University, Lancaster LA1 4YN, available online at: 5http://
www.comp.lancs.ac.uk/sociology/papers/Law-Notes-on-ANT.pdf4 (accessed 10 February 2006).
Leveau, P. (1995) Les Moulins romains de Barbegal, les ponts-aqueducs du vallon des Arcs et l’histoire
naturelle de la vallée des Baux (Bilan de six ans de fouilles programmées), in: Comptes Rendus de
l’Acade´mie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, pp. 115–144.
Leveau, P., Walsh, K., Bertucchi, G., Bruneton, H. & Tremmel, B. (2000) Le Troisieme Siecle dans la
Vallée Des Baux: Les Fouilles de la Partie Basse et de L’emissaire Oriental des Moulins de Barbegal,
Revue D’Archeologie Narbonnaise, 33, pp. 387–439.
Mahlknecht, M. (2005) Der Alpine Brandopferplatz Am Grubensee Im Maneid-Tal, Der Schlern, 79(4),
p. 21.
Marzatico, F. (2002) Il Castelar de La Groa, Sopramonte, Trento, Culti nella Preistoria delle Alpi. Le
Offerte. I Santuari. I Riti. pp. 709–711 (Bolzano: Casa editrice Athesia).
Mitsch, W. J. & Gosselink, J. G. (1993) Wetlands (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold).
Muller, A. & Jorda, M. (n.d.) 1987–1989, Prospections Inventaire, la Vallée de l’Ubaye. Unpublished
report held at the Service Régionale pour L’Archéologie, Aix-en-Provence.
Murdoch, J. (2001) Ecologising sociology: actor-network theory, co-construction and the problem of
human exemptionalism, Sociology –London, 35(1), pp. 111–134.
Niederwanger, G. (1990) Ein Laugener Brandopferplatz am Schwarzsee auf dem Seeberg im Sarntal, Der
Schlern, 64(371), p. 397.
 564 K. Walsh

Owoc, M. A. & Boivin, N. (2004) Soils, Stones and Symbols: Cultural Perceptions of the Mineral World
(London: UCL).
Redman, C. L. & Kinzig, A. P. (2003) Resilience of past landscapes: resilience theory, society, and the
Longue Dure´e, Conservation Ecology, 7(1), p. 14.
Sallares, R. (2002) Malaria and Rome: A History of Malaria in Ancient Italy (Oxford: Oxford University
Press).
Steiner, K. G. (1998) Using farmers’ knowledge of soils in making research results more relevant to field
practice: experiences from Rwanda, Agriculture Ecosystems and Environment, 69, pp. 191–200.
Tegene, B. (2000) Processes and causes of accelerated soil erosion on cultivated fields of South Welo,
Ethiopia, Eastern Africa Social Science Research Review, 16(1), pp. 1–22.
Tilley, C. (1994) A Phenomenology of Landscape, Places, Paths and Monuments (Oxford: Berg).
Tolba, M. K., El-Kholy, O. A., El-Hinnawi, E., Holdgate, M. W., McMichael, D. F. & Munn, R. E.
Downloaded by [Cardiff University Libraries] at 13:59 29 December 2014

(1992) The World Environment 1972 – 1992 (London: Chapman and Hall).
Walsh, K. (2004) Caring about sediments: the role of cultural geoarchaeology in Mediterranean
landscapes, Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology, 17(2), pp. 223–245.
Walsh, K. & Mocci, F. (2003) Fame and marginality: the archaeology of Montagne Sainte Victoire
(Provence, France), American Journal of Archaeology, 107(1), pp. 45–70.