2

Preludes to Power in the Highland Late

Preceramic Period
Mark Aldenderfer
University of California, Santa Barbara

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

O ver the past 30 years, archaeologists working on the

highland Late Preceramic have made substantial ad-
vances in our knowledge of that crucial time period. We now
have more secure chronologies, more abundant regional-
scale data on Preceramic settlement patterns, a more com-
plete understanding of the relationship between climatic
and cultural change, and better insight into the process by
which indigenous plants and animals were domesticated
(Aldenderfer in press b). However, it remains the case that
until recently, comparatively little attention has been paid
to the development of models and explanations of societal
transformations, especially those concerned with the origins
of social inequality and the appearance of more complex
forms of political and economic institutions. In great part,
this can be explained simply by noting that the data required
to build these models have only been obtained recently. An-
other explanation, however, is that there is in fact relatively
little “complexity” to explain in the highland Late Prece-
ramic, especially when compared with contemporaneous de-
velopments on the Pacific littoral. The dating of Caral in the
Supe Valley has if anything strengthened the impression that
the highlands lag far behind the coast in the development of
complex social institutions (Haas et al., this volume; Shady
Solis et al. 2001). Indeed, as Moore (1996) has shown in his
discussion of Andean architecture, Late Preceramic public
architecture on the coast is said to reflect an ethos of social
control that is commonly associated with societies character-
ized by strong hierarchies with distinct sets of privileges and
prerogatives or, in other words, an elite social class. Shady
Solis et al. (2001:726) extend this and argue that the size and
number of mounds at Caral and other similar coastal sites
of the same period suggest a social order based on a high
level of centralized control and decision-making. Although
our sample of highland regions is far from complete, there is
nothing known in them that matches the scale of construc-
tion and the inferred level of social complexity of the massive
Late Preceramic coastal centers until after 1300 B.C. at sites
such as Chiripa, Chavín de Huántar, and Pukara (Beck 2001;
Hastorf 1999).
If this characterization is accurate, we should be look-
ing for preludes to power in the highland Late Preceramic
rather than evidence for the dramatically asymmetrical social
relationships that are apparent on the littoral. By preludes,
I mean those strategies employed by individuals or larger
social formations that provide opportunities for the devel-
opment of social asymmetries but that are not immediately

Archaeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association, Vol. 14, pp. 13–35, ISBN 1-931303-20-7.
C 2005 by the American Anthro-

pological Association. All rights reserved. Permissions to photocopy or reproduce article content via www.ucpress.edu/journals/rights.htm.
14
persistent or indicative of a significant level of social con-
trol by that individual or group over others. This conception
of preludes acknowledges that all societies, even those la-
beled as egalitarian, are permeated by social asymmetries
based on age or generation, kinship, gender, or valued abil-
ity (Flanagan 1989) and that under certain combinations of
circumstances, individuals may be able to use these asym-
metries to further their self-interest. I have deliberately cho-
sen the term preludes in contrast to Hayden’s (1995) use of
“pathways” to avoid any suggestion that a prelude neces-
sarily develops into a power relationship that can be placed
into a typological scheme or a widely applicable general
model. Indeed, one of the empirical challenges of this line
of inquiry is to identify which strategies lead to persistent
leadership under which constellations of contextual factors
(Drennan 1996).
The search for explanations of the processes by which
these transient asymmetries become persistent and, once per-
sistent, how they form the basis of a more pervasive social
control is, of course, one of the major themes of modern
anthropology. My goal in this chapter is more humble and
is directed at the identification of the material indicators of
the social processes leading to these asymmetries that may
have been operative in the highland Late Preceramic Period.
To achieve this, I will discuss from a theoretical perspective
various strategies used to exploit inherent inequalities within
egalitarian societies, describe the conditions under which
such strategies are likely to succeed in becoming persistent,
and, finally, review the archaeological evidence of the high-
land Late Preceramic to evaluate which of these strategies
may have been operative.
Although chronological schemes vary (see Quilter
1991, for example), for the purposes of this chapter the
Late Preceramic in the central Andes ranges from 4800 to
1800 cal B.C. This includes what I call the Terminal Prece-
ramic (3000–1500 cal B.C.) in the Titicaca Basin (Aldender-
fer 2002b).
Leadership in Egalitarian Societies
There are two fundamental strategies of leadership: one
based on prestige and the other on dominance. Although
these may overlap in some individuals, it is also the case
that the two strategies invoke distinct pathways to achieving
a leadership role (Henrich and Gil-White 2001). Prestige is
high standing achieved through past success, influence, or
wealth. High prestige allows individuals to influence others
through an inherent characteristic (such as age or gender),
successful performance of a valued ability, or, importantly,
association with someone who has that ability. In the ethno-
Mark Aldenderfer
graphies of egalitarian societies, examples of potentially
prestigious abilities include hunting success, impressive sub-
sistence work effort, or hunt leadership (Hawkes 1991, 1993;
Paine 1971); control of esoteric knowledge (e.g., shamanic
power among the Gabrileño; Blackburn 1974; Gayton 1930)
or healing skills (e.g., !kia healers and trance dancers among
the !Kung; Katz 1976; Wiessner 2002); oratorical talents
(e.g., Enga big men; Wiessner and Tumu 1998:260–261;
Nomolaki “chiefs”; Goldschmidt 1951); special craft skills
(e.g., Chumash canoe makers; Arnold 1992); and skill at
handling wealth (Strathern 1971).
Perhaps one of the most powerful ways in which pres-
tige leadership operates is through competitive generosity
and consequent debt formation strategies (Clark and Blake
1994; Hayden 1995). Best known from the New Guinea
highlands (Godelier and Strathern 1991; Strathern 1982),
numerous ethnographies have been written about “big men”
and “great men” who are able to mobilize the labor of
both kin and nonkin to support their competitive displays.
Although feasts are often the modality by which this gen-
erosity is made manifest, gifts of desired objects (often of a
sacred or ritual variety), display of the “overproduction” of
subsistence goods, massive bridewealth payments, exchange
of women, participation in trade or exchange systems or
cycles, and other kinds of payments are also employed.
These displays are made under conditions of reciprocity,
meaning that the recipients must respond in kind within a
reasonable period. If they are unable to do so, this creates
debt on their part, which can be repaid by their labor on
behalf of the prestigious individual. Failure to repay debt
diminishes the debtor’s prestige and tends to limit his social
opportunities. Not only is the debt itself important, but
the widespread public acknowledgment of the debt further
enhances the prestige of the debt holder. This may serve
to attract more followers willing to offer their labor freely
so that they may improve their own prestige or obtain other
benefits.
Prestige leadership tends to be highly situational and
does not necessarily carry over into other social domains.
However, as many ethnographies also make clear, individu-
als of high prestige may exert real influence on decision-
making in other domains because they have earned the
right to have their opinions heard. Prestigious individuals
often have followers who act to support a potential leader
because they see clear benefits in so doing but who are
also free to deny them support as situations change unless
powerful social norms (such as a prescription requiring the
repayment of gifts or benefits from feasts) serve to bind
them more tightly to the prestigious leader. Leaders with
high prestige who become “too proud” or seek to extend
their influence in ways seen by both followers and others
Highland Late Preceramic Period
as inappropriate are often subjected to ridicule and scorn,
which are seen as leveling mechanisms (Lee 1990) or mani-
festations of reverse dominance hierarchies (Boehm 1999).
One-time followers may decamp, leaving the former leader
to recoup his prestige through renewed efforts. Leadership
based on prestige is fluid, impermanent, and open to chal-
lenge and question. Consequently, it is difficult for leaders
with high prestige to transfer their influence to individual
followers or their children except in very narrow domains
(e.g., Enga Kepele ritual specialists; Wiessner and Tumu
1998:204).
Leadership through dominance in human societies is
achieved primarily by the threat of force or punishment.
Hayden (1995:28–42) refers to these leaders as “despots”
and notes that the threat of force tends to be external, rather
than internal, to the group. That is, potential leaders capital-
ize on intergroup disputes and offer themselves as protec-
tors, war leaders, or mediators of external disputes. Warfare
is endemic in despot communities and potential leaders gain
prestige through the mobilization of labor for feasts, both to
solidify internal support and to attract potential allies, and
for war reparation payments, wherein despots demand and
obtain surplus production from followers to settle claims for
the deaths of allied warriors and, in some cases, of enemies
as well. Ethnographies are replete with examples of despotic
leaders who create climates of fear both within and between
communities in order to enhance their leadership opportuni-
ties. However, fear tends to be a high-cost leadership strategy,
and as Hayden (1995:32) and others have remarked, success-
ful despots tend to become skillful orators and speakers, in
great part because they must convince reluctant followers
to engage in potentially risky activity and to provide labor
and food for ceremonial feasts, which often mark the start of
hostilities (see also Wiessner and Tumu 1998:252–292), as
well as convince them to finance reparations. Like leaders
who rely on generosity and debt generation, despots find it
difficult to transfer their personal influence to followers, kin,
or children since so much of their influence is based on their
own efforts and personal qualities.
However, dominance leadership strategies may also
exist within groups, especially if they are relatively large and
composed of multiple, often competing, kin groups or lin-
eages. As Chagnon (1979a) has shown, the ability to produce
large numbers of offspring provides over time a demographic
foundation of potential prestige for an aspiring leader to tap
into. Having large numbers of close consanguines willing
to cooperate in food production, dispute handling, alliance
formation, and raiding is a decided advantage not available
in smaller, less effectual groups. Note also that the implicit
threat of intragroup violence that can be achieved through
these groups may also be convincing to many to become
15
active followers or to at least remain neutral and cooperate.
Among the Yanomamo, for example, Chagnon (1979b)
reports that under conditions of intervillage warfare, it is
common for large villages composed of multiple lineages to
form. These lineages have varying degrees of interrelated-
ness as a result of extensive intermarriage. Each lineage head
tends to be aggressive in positioning himself and his kin
group in the most advantageous manner possible vis-à-vis
alliance formation, requirements to contribute to feasts, and
other social obligations, a situation that frequently leads to
potentially dangerous levels of conflict. The headman of the
largest lineage is well positioned based on its demographic
strength to have significant influence over decision-making.
Chagnon notes that in some instances, these headmen abuse
this influence by favoring close kinsmen by, among other
things, seizure of women from less powerful lineages and
relaxation of punishment for offenses committed by his
kin. But since the headmen may also have strong kin ties
to other lineages, they, like their New Guinea counterparts,
necessarily find themselves acting as mediators in disputes
and usually avoid the use of force or its threat in dispute
resolution.
The combination of lineage, prestige, and consequent
influence is one that has implications for the development
of persistent leadership. Descent principles mean that the
offspring of lineage heads are well positioned to become
lineage heads themselves and thus potentially able to move
into a leadership role relatively quickly. However, charac-
ter counts, and whether leadership is achieved by any aspi-
rant depends on his ability to convince others of his right
to lead and the willingness of others to grant it. Another
problem looms, and that is potential factional competition
within large lineages. These factions may promote alterna-
tive candidates, and the potential for interlineage strife may
weaken a once-dominant group. Thus while descent groups
provide a structural basis for persistent leadership, the real-
ities of daily interaction and face-to-face politics offer con-
tinual challenges to its establishment.
Yet another challenge to the development of persistent
rule based on descent within despot communities is the
degree to which a climate of constant hostility can be main-
tained between communities. In the case of the Yanomamo,
an alternative for any smaller lineage that finds itself dom-
inated by a larger one is for it to make a long-distance
move into a less hostile environment. Chagnon (1979a, 1988,
1997:74–81) has documented a number of such moves and
notes that these are undertaken with great reluctance and
consideration. Removals of this kind weaken the position of
the dominant headman and force him to burden subordinate
groups still further or press his kinsmen for additional sup-
port. This may provide new challenges to his persistent rule.
16
However, such moves are often impossible under condi-
tions of regional packing, and under these circumstances the
development of persistent leadership becomes more feasible.
Wiessner and Tumu (1998:289–291) describe the watenge,
the Great War leader of the New Guinea highlands. This po-
sition was inherited, but this could only be achieved if the son
in question was sufficiently accomplished. However, there
was a strong expectation that one of the watenge’s sons or
nephews would inherit the watenge’s position. As Wiessner
and Tumu state, “What one sees, then, in the context of the
Great Wars is the development of inherited social inequal-
ities in response to demands from the people that consis-
tent leadership be instituted in order to provide predictable,
established figures behind whom large groups could rally”
(1998:290–291).
The watenge is not simply a lineage head; he is the ac-
knowledged leader of a number of lineages or clans who
directs the complex Great War arrangements. Since there
are few of these leaders, they wield enormous influence,
but they are nevertheless aware that while they and their
kin may benefit greatly from this position, it is one under
constant scrutiny and that right behavior and good perfor-
mance are necessary to maintain their position despite its
inheritance.
What can we conclude from this brief review of lead-
ership in egalitarian societies? It is obvious that there are a
multiplicity of forms of potential leadership, ranging from
the very impermanent and highly situational to the more per-
sistent and relatively permanent. However, no matter what
the specific basis for leadership, it is clear that those who
aspire to it must be able to mobilize support across other
social formations and work consistently and energetically
to maintain their position. Another conclusion to draw from
this review is that leadership may operate at a multiplicity of
levels within a group. That is, individuals may seek prestige
on a private basis with others; an individual may act for a
family within the framework of a larger descent group or
within the context of his valued activity; an individual may
act as a leader for an entire descent group; or a combination
of these levels may be employed. For the archaeologist, what
this means is that there may well be material remains of each
of these actions and that it may be difficult or even impossi-
ble to unravel the record and make sense of it. Rather than
simplicity, then, the archaeological record of early inequality
is itself quite complex, and indeed things get much “simpler”
(i.e., easier to understand) when society gets complex and
leadership is truly persistent and pervasive. These observa-
tions certainly underscore Drennan’s (1996) concerns about
attempting to build a one-size-fits-all model of the emer-
gence of early inequality, and in the spirit of that concern,
I now turn to an evaluation of the contexts in which we
Mark Aldenderfer
might reasonably expect early inequality to emerge and how
it might be promoted.
Contexts for the Emergence of Persistent
Inequality
Since early inequality may take a bewildering variety
of social forms, many of which are invisible or difficult to
see archaeologically, a different avenue of approach focuses
on the range of contexts in which one can expect persistent
inequality to emerge. Not surprisingly, this has been a topic
of real interest among archaeologists, since we often have
greater success with their identification. For instance, while
we may not be able to “see” debt generation per se, we may
be able to determine that it appears only in a limited range
of economic and ecological circumstances.
One area of broad agreement is apparent: persistent in-
equality cannot emerge in environments characterized by
patchy resource distributions of high interseasonal or inter-
annual variance. This does not mean that certain behaviors
that enhance prestige such as “showing off ” hunting prowess
(Hawkes 1991) or control of ritual behaviors for personal
ends (Aldenderfer 1993) cannot occur. It does mean, how-
ever, that potential leaders will find it difficult or impossi-
ble to hold competitive feasts and showy displays or presta-
tions of ritual or sacred objects simply because it is difficult
to support these ventures under these circumstances. Extra
labor cannot be used to substantially increase subsistence
production. This also suggests that settlement systems char-
acterized by moderate to high levels of residential mobil-
ity are not likely to develop persistent leadership. Likewise,
despot communities characterized by extensive warfare with
a strongly ritualized component are not expected in highly
variable environments. Raiding, and thus war leaders, can
certainly occur, but, again, the intensity of warfare is not
sufficient to support persistent leadership strategies based
on dominance and threat.
Most authors now concur that an ecological context of
abundance is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for the
emergence of persistent inequality. From this perspective,
persistent inequality could appear in foraging societies (of-
ten labeled “complex hunter-gatherers”) as well as in those
reliant on plant and animal domesticates. Relatively abun-
dant and predictable environments provide the reliability re-
quired by potential leaders to create a basis for feasting, gift
acquisition and prestation, and other social displays. Beyond
this general agreement, however, the roles of other environ-
mental and ecological factors, such as population density,
degree of subsistence risk, and circumscription (both social
and environmental) are disputed. In part, disagreement over
Highland Late Preceramic Period
the contribution of these factors is driven by differences in
theoretical perspectives. Thus, those espousing theories de-
rived from an agency perspective argue that causality in the
emergence of persistent leadership is primarily motivated
by social concerns, not resource configurations (Clark and
Blake 1994:19). In some regions of the world, there is empiri-
cal support for this perspective. For instance, Clark and Blake
argue for Early Formative Chiapas that persistent inequal-
ities emerged under conditions well below environmental
carrying capacity and of relatively low population density.
These findings are echoed by Feinman (1991) in highland
Oaxaca. And instead of persistent leadership arising as a
consequence of environmental stress (i.e., agricultural risk
or population pressure) as is postulated in many models of
the origins of inequality from processual perspectives (e.g.,
Price and Brown 1985), it arises instead under conditions of
abundance. But there seem to be exceptions to this. Hayden
(1996) asserts that in times of environmental stress in groups
that have already developed a strong ethos of private own-
ership of property and resources and have some form of
“inequality,” owners of those resources and properties may
be able to augment their prestige and status through overt
generosity and manipulation of their good fortune. So while
it seems that abundance is very important to this process,
responses to stress are more complex and variable.
To a number of authors, most notably Hayden (1995:74)
and Clark and Blake (1994), the role of circumscription is
likewise thought to be unimportant for the emergence of
persistent inequality. However, I have argued elsewhere that
circumscription can indeed play a significant role in this pro-
cess. In many processual models, circumscription is seen as
a necessary condition for the origins of persistent leadership
(Price and Brown 1985) and can either be environmental
(Carneiro 1970, 1988) or social (Brown and Price 1985:438)
in form. However, these terms say little, and instead I have
used elsewhere (Aldenderfer 1993:11) a definition from evo-
lutionary biology that captures the behavioral aspects of cir-
cumscription: “the net benefit, or relatively lower cost, of
remaining in a group for any individual member” (Betzig
1986:102). Individuals or families may tolerate increasing
inequality because of perceived benefits of so doing or, more
often, to avoid some far greater cost. The dilemma of the
small Yanomamo lineage being dominated by a larger one is
instructive here. The immediate environment is surrounded
by hostile neighbors as well as potential allies, but the small
lineage is dependent on the will of the dominant lineage
for its political decision-making and survival. A local move
to another village may well be fatal. The costs of a long-
distance move to an unknown area are very high, and while
these moves have occurred historically, they are not common.
The acquisition and expansion of ritual leadership positions
17
likewise has occurred under circumscription in a number of
simple and complex foraging societies (Aldenderfer 1993).
Finally, as Wiessner and Tumu (1998:372) have shown, it
is possible to examine the emergence of Great War lead-
ership positions in highland New Guinea as an attempt to
define and regularize avenues of both cooperation and com-
petition in a highly circumscribed environment. Therefore,
while circumscription may not be a necessary context for
the emergence of persistent inequality, it appears to have a
causal role in at least some transitions toward it.
One conclusion to be drawn from this discussion is
that variability in circumstances and possible trajectories
to persistent inequality is likely to be the rule, rather than
the exception, in prehistory. But this should not be surpris-
ing since the origins of persistent rule are to be found in
highly fluid, situational consequences that are difficult to
model a priori. Instead of a top-down modeling approach,
we should instead develop so-called pattern models to ex-
plain the emergence of persistent inequality. A pattern model
(Kaplan 1964:332–335) explains by relating one set of el-
ements with others so that they form a unified whole in
a network of objective relations. We may find, for exam-
ple, that in a particular case study, circumscription, resource
stress, and low population density form a causal network for
the emergence of inequality, whereas in another we may ob-
serve high levels of warfare, no obvious population pressure,
and extensive long-distance trade. Depending on the nature
of the objective relationships, both these sets of factors may
explain the emergence of inequality. Hayden (1995:72) has
made a similar point by attempting to define his leadership
types (despots, reciprocators, and entrepreneurs) as poly-
thetic sets. I tend to agree but would rather avoid the attempt
to essentialize the types and instead focus on the factors and
variables observed to make sense of how they articulate.
To develop pattern explanations of archaeological
trajectories toward persistent inequality, we must com-
bine evidence for potential sources of prestige enhance-
ment—age/generation, gender, and valued abilities—with
potential leadership strategies—generosity and debt gener-
ation and various dominance tactics—and with contextual
data on resource configurations, mode of production, pop-
ulation density, and evidence for territoriality, along with
specific classes of archaeological data—settlement patterns
(degree of mobility), mortuary remains (who is treated how
where), warfare (intensity), trade and exchange (what and
at what intensity), feasting (presence and intensity), nonres-
idential architecture (if present and at what scale toward what
purpose), and craft specialization. In the following section
of this chapter, I shall examine this evidence in a number of
archaeological settings in the Andean highlands during the
Late Preceramic.
18
Persistent Leadership in the Highland Late
Preceramic?
The archaeological data requirements necessary to ex-
amine the origins and evolutionary trajectory of persistent
leadership and social inequality are substantial. Ideally, these
data would include settlement pattern surveys, intensive ex-
cavations at key sites, and robust and fine-grained chronolo-
gies. Sadly, data of this quality and quantity are lacking
for most of the highlands during the entire epoch, let alone
the Late Preceramic Period (Aldenderfer in press b). With
few exceptions, we either have settlement pattern data with-
out much excavation or excavation of key sites with little
regional-scale data. Because many of these sites were ex-
cavated before the development of much middle-range the-
ory for the identification of the indicators of leadership, it
is sometimes difficult to extract these from the excavation
reports. Despite this, we can nevertheless examine a num-
ber of locations in the highlands to get a sense of whether
any kinds of persistent leadership and incipient inequal-
ity can be observed (Figure 2.1). These include the Junin
puna, Ayacucho Basin, the upper Osmore (Asana) drainage
in Moquegua, the Chila and Ilave drainages in the Lake Titi-
caca Basin, and the central Andean high sierra (including
the famous sites of Huaricoto, Kotosh, La Galgada, and
Piruru).
Junin Puna
The Junin puna has been the focus of intensive archae-
ological research since the 1970s. John Rick (1980) sur-
veyed the environs of the puna around Lake Junin and has
tested and excavated a number of rockshelters, most no-
tably Pachamachay and Panaulauca (Rick and Moore 1999).
Danièle Lavalée et al. (1985) have excavated the nearby shel-
ter of Telarmachay and also conducted limited settlement
pattern surveys in a small area around the town of San Pe-
dro de Cajas at the margins of the puna (Lavalée and Julien
1975). Finally, Kaulicke (1999) reports on research at Uchu-
machay, which is located circa 20 kilometers southeast of
Pachamachay.
What is known of Late Preceramic settlement pat-
terns offers some interesting variability. At Pachamachay,
in Phases 3–5 (dating ca. 5000–1500 B.C.), settlement was
sedentary at the site with a small number of sites in the vicin-
ity used on a logistical basis. Subsistence was focused on the
specialized hunting of vicuña, and although Rick (1980) ac-
knowledges that their domestication is possible, he argues
strongly against it. Although population grew during these
phases, population density was apparently very low. Not sur-
Mark Aldenderfer
prisingly, no clear indicators of persistent leadership are to
be found in the assemblages of these phases. Most lithic
raw material was local, and no obsidian or other artifacts
indicative of long-distance trade were encountered. The sit-
uation at Panaulauca (Rick and Moore 1999:271–272) is
similar. In Phases 4–5 (dating from 3800–1620 B.C.) the
site apparently becomes more frequently visited and served
as a residential base for a sedentary group of specialized
vicuña hunters. Occupation was apparently not permanent;
seven burials were recovered from levels dating to circa
3000 B.C. Rick and Moore (1999:273) suggest these buri-
als—which have no goods with them, little consistent pat-
terning, and no children present—were placed in the mouth
of the shelter during a brief abandonment of the site. No
artifacts of exotic origin were recovered in any of the Late
Preceramic deposits and, again, the material evidence ar-
gues strongly against any form of persistent leadership being
present.
Telarmachay and Uchumachay present a somewhat dif-
ferent picture of Late Preceramic lifeways on the Junin
puna. At Telarmachay, the Late Preceramic is found in
Level IV and ranges from 5000/4500–3800 B.P. (Lavalée
et al. 1985:56–59), which corresponds roughly to circa
3800–2200 B.C. Jane Wheeler (1985, 1999) argues that un-
like at Pachamachay and Panaulauca, the occupants of the
site were probably vicuña pastoralists and that the domes-
tication process was probably complete in this part of the
puna by 4200 B.C. The site is said to have been occupied
during the wet season (December–March). Level 4 of Uchu-
machay is said to be contemporary with Level IV at Telarma-
chay and likewise reflects a pattern of animal domestication
and more temporary residence (Kaulicke 1999:320–322).
Although subsistence practice and aspects of settlement pat-
terns are different from Rick’s sites, overall population sizes
and densities are very low, and if in fact these are pastoral-
ists, they have yet to create large herds. No burials were
found at either site during this period, although six individ-
uals were found at Telarmachay in the levels dating to the
Middle Archaic. Kaulicke (1997:30–31) reports that one of
the skulls of these burials is not present, and this suggests
to him a religious motivation, possibly regarding ancestor
worship. Very little evidence of long-distance trade is found
at either site aside from a small fragment of a Strombus shell
at Telarmachay.
It seems clear that no persistent leadership is recog-
nizable during the Late Preceramic Period on the Junin
puna. Population densities are quite low, and although
some groups may in fact be sedentary, neither this nor
the domestication of the vicuña provided as yet a basis
for the emergence of more obvious forms of leadership or
inequality.
Highland Late Preceramic Period 19

Figure 2.1. Locations of major sites discussed in the text. 1, Pachamachay/Panaulauca; 2, Telarmachay; 3, Ayacucho
Basin sites; 4, Qillqatani; 5, Asana; 6, Jiskairumoko; 7, Kotosh/Shillacoto; 8, Huaricoto; 9, La Galgada; 10, Piruru.
20
The Río Chila Drainage
On the basis of extensive excavation at the rockshel-
ter called Qillqatani (also known as Quelcatani), survey in
its environs (Aldenderfer n.d.), and additional survey in the
nearby Río Huenque drainage (Klink 1999), it appears from
circa 4800–2000 B.C. the human use of the landscape of
this harsh, high puna environment was characterized by a
modified logistical mobility with an unknown frequency of
residential moves. Qillqatani is at this time very probably
a short-term residential site or, more probably, a logistical
camp. Mobility is confined to the high puna, but its scale is
unknown. The faunal materials present indicate that hunt-
ing deer and camelids was important, although a wide va-
riety of plant remains recovered in levels dating between
2200–2000 B.C. suggests a broad spectrum of plant use that
supplemented the diet. There is no indication that camelids
were herded; no animal control features like corrals or small
pens for neonates or small camelids have been encountered
in these levels at Qillqatani.
Just after 2000 B.C., and possibly earlier, Qillqatani be-
comes a residential base. Small, but permanent, structures
are built within the rockshelter, ceramics appear for the first
time in the cultural sequence, and plant use is more clearly
focused on the use of probably domesticated Chenopodium
spp., which cannot be grown at the elevation of the shel-
ter (4420 meters) and therefore had to be either obtained
through exchange or cultivated by moving part of the resi-
dential group to a lower elevation locale. However, the ab-
sence from the faunal assemblage of high-utility parts of
camelids suggests that trade, and not cultivation, was the
most likely way in which the inhabitants of Qillqatani ob-
tained these plants. Settlement patterns in the region also
support the inference of decreased logistical mobility. Taken
together, these data suggest that by just after 2000 B.C.,
the inhabitants of Qillqatani practiced a pastoral lifeway.
Again, whether this is an in situ development of popula-
tion replacement is not definitive and, again, given the small
scale of production, aggrandizing is not a likely explanation
for the appearance of this mode of production (Aldenderfer
2002a).
The only material indicator of a potential persistent lead-
ership strategy at Qillqatani is obsidian. Although present at
the site in levels dating from 4800–2000 B.C., it makes up
only a small proportion (slightly more than 4 percent by
count) of both debris and formal tools. Just after 2000 B.C.,
and coincident with the dramatic changes in settlement and
subsistence, the proportion of obsidian in the assemblage
increases to 12 percent for tools and 16 percent for debris.
In fact, these proportions of obsidian are characteristic of
all Formative assemblages at the site. The majority of this
Mark Aldenderfer
obsidian comes from the Chivay source in the Colca Valley
(Frye et al. 1998), thus making it a long-distance trade good.
Almost all of the obsidian is used to fashion small trian-
gular arrow points. Importantly, obsidian is not a necessity
since very high-quality tool stone is found in the immedi-
ate environs of the site. Aside from scraping tools, almost
all of the formal tools in the assemblage are these projectile
points.
These data point toward two distinct leadership strate-
gies: display and warfare. Obsidian is not required, but it
is strongly desired. Obviously, the inhabitants of Qillqatani
made strong efforts to obtain it, and the process of getting it
was undoubtedly expensive. Whatever meager surplus these
people generated, at least part of it went to obsidian procure-
ment.
The display of obsidian was in warfare and conflict.
Very large numbers of arrow points of obsidian and local
materials are found in the post-2000 B.C. levels, many more
than are found in earlier occupations of the Late Preceramic.
While loss and breakage of arrow points is not uncommon,
my intuitive impression is that there are many more points
than one would require for hunting and replacement. Keeley
(1996) describes a number of ethnographic and archaeolog-
ical examples of the use of stone projectile points used in
warfare, and those used in conflict are often edge modified
to make them more lethal. They are also made in abundance.
Kuznar (n.d.) notes that pastoral societies are quite violent
and, worldwide, frequently engage in raiding, theft, and in-
timidation of rivals. Since population densities are low and
high-quality pasturage abundant at this time, conflict may
be more about prestige and status than resource concerns.
The few mortuary remains of this period, however, do not
exhibit traumas associated with conflict. However, one com-
plex image of rupestral art at the site shows what appears
to be two groups of humans facing one another in various
poses reminiscent of conflict and injury (Aldenderfer and
Klarich n.d.). It is interesting to note that this pattern of a
large volume of obsidian turned into lethal projectile points
continues until Tiwanaku times, suggesting that low-level
warfare was endemic through the Formative. However, other
signs of potential persistent leadership are absent, and dis-
play and warfare do not appear to have led to more permanent
leaders.
Ayacucho Basin
The Ayacucho Basin is one of the better-studied re-
gions of the Andean highlands during this period as a result
of the combination of regional-scale survey and testing
and excavation at key sites, such as Pikimachay, Puente,
Highland Late Preceramic Period
and others (MacNeish et al. 1983). The Late Preceramic
here spans three phases: Chihua (5000–4000 B.C.), Cachi
(4000–2200 B.C.), and Andamarka (2200–1670 B.C.); data
on the latter have yet to be published extensively and will
only be outlined here.
In the preceding Piki phase, domesticated plants, includ-
ing gourd, quinoa, and squash, were apparently introduced
into the region from elsewhere. However, remains of these
plants are very scarce and they did not form a significant part
of the diet at the start of the Chihua phase. Guinea pigs may
have been penned, if not domesticated, at this time. Although
MacNeish (1983:266) reports discovering a “hamlet” dating
to this phase, the occupants of the Ayacucho Basin were
residentially mobile, but at a very low level, possibly mak-
ing only three to four moves per year. MacNeish (1983:269)
defines four “macrobands” inhabiting the basin. Logistical
forays were made into adjacent ecozones, including the high
puna. Subsistence was a mixture of horticulture, hunting,
and collecting in a scenario that resembles Smith’s (2001)
model of low-level food production. There is no evidence for
domesticated camelids. By the end of the phase, more plants
have been added to the diet, including tubers and Ayacucho-
type corn. Population density is low, but population levels
show growth from the preceding phase.
There is little evidence for strategies leading to per-
sistent leadership. Of the two burials dating to this phase,
neither shows special treatment or contains nonlocal grave
goods. Obsidian procurement is seen as an important activ-
ity but one that involves direct procurement from the sources
well known in Ayacucho, primarily Quispisisa (Burger et al.
2000). Although MacNeish (1983:272) sees evidence for in-
creased exchange, it is apparently at the local level. Much
of the obsidian found in the basin at this time was fash-
ioned into projectile points, and some styles are thought to
be arrow points. The use of obsidian for projectile points
stands in sharp contrast to its use in earlier phases, in which,
while obsidian was used, most points were fashioned from
cherts, basalts, and other materials. This pattern continues
into the Cachi phase and, as is the case in the Chila drainage,
may reflect the preferred use of obsidian points in raiding or
conflict.
The Cachi phase reflects a significant reorientation of
settlement and subsistence. MacNeish (1983:272) sees evi-
dence for two distinct subsistence systems in the basin, one
focused on lower-elevation resources and another at high
elevations, and each is integrated into a system of verti-
cal complementarity. In the wet season, the high-elevation
groups descended to lower elevations, where they grew pota-
toes and herded domesticated camelids. In the dry season,
they pastured their animals on the puna. Settlement in the
wet season was in either a hamlet or macroband camp, while
21
in the dry season, these groups dispersed into smaller groups
to preferred pasturage. Mobility was relatively low, however.
MacNeish (1983) suggests that this adaptation generated a
modest surplus, a significant portion of which was used to
maintain complementarity relationships.
The lower-elevation adaptation was “effectively seden-
tary” (MacNeish 1983:272), although it did send logistical
parties out to other ecozones. Subsistence was increasingly
reliant on agricultural production of seed plants, primarily
corn, quinoa, and beans, and supplemented by a wide variety
of other plants. The surplus generated by these groups was
substantial, and much of the production went to trade with
their highland neighbors as well as maintenance of the com-
plementary ties. Highlanders traded obsidian and camelid
meat for corn and other agricultural products. Across the
basin, population levels were up to three times greater than
in Chihua times, with over 19 macrobands postulated. There
is no sense, however, that this dramatically increased popu-
lation led to resource stress and, indeed, it appears that sur-
pluses generated were substantial and effectively distributed
by the complementarity system.
Despite these major changes in subsistence, settlement,
and presumed social relationships, evidence for persistent
leadership or strategies leading to them is essentially nonex-
istent. Although MacNeish notes that there were “rumblings
in the ceremonial line” (1983:278) that presaged develop-
ments in the subsequent Andamarka-Wichqana phase, little
clear evidence of ceremonial activity was discovered. None
of the artifacts, aside possibly from the obsidian used to
make projectile points, is of long-distance origin or an ex-
otic nature (MacNeish, Vierra, et al. 1980). Burials show no
special treatment, and grave goods are of local origin and
quite modest.
The absence of evidence for persistent leadership strate-
gies is puzzling, especially given the very significant sur-
pluses said to have been generated by the intensification
of agriculture and pastoralism. Aside from the possible in-
crease in numbers of obsidian projectile points, there is no
evidence at all for raiding or conflict. It is possible that the
inhabitants of the basin expressed any competitive generos-
ity or gift display with perishable materials. An alternative
explanation, however, may relate to the emergence of a com-
plementarity relationship between highlanders and lowlan-
ders. Although MacNeish (1983:278) casts it in terms of a
functional benefit (i.e., groups in the two zones would be
better off cooperating than competing), it is more likely the
case that complementarity relationships were first instituted
between individual families and on the basis of balanced
reciprocity, which is common today in the Andes. These rela-
tionships may have been maintained through devoted trading
partners who also sought marriage partners and other social
22
benefits. This would have been especially beneficial to the
highlanders, since pastoral adaptations tend to be highly ter-
ritorial (because of pasturage requirements) and prone to
raiding and conflict. Ties may have been strong enough to
count lowlanders as allies or at least as sources of surplus
that could be used in other arenas.
Lowlanders would have benefited through risk amelio-
ration but, over time, may also have been able to use highland
labor toward their own ends. In a sense, then, the emergence
of complementarity may have “trumped” competitive gen-
erosity and the use of costly gifts, at least in the short run,
but it is easy to speculate on how it could have been manipu-
lated by potential leaders. Unfortunately, no evidence exists
for any of this in the Cachi phase.
Even greater changes are seen in the basin during
Andamarka times (MacNeish, Nelken-Turner, and Vierra
1980:12). Although very poorly known, the phase is char-
acterized by highland agropastoralists and lowland farmers
connected via complementarity relationships. Settlement at
lower elevations is focused on five geographically separate
groups of hamlets associated with ceremonial centers with
small pyramids. None of these sites are found in the high-
lands. It is fascinating to speculate that the patterns for the
exploitation and the manipulation of complementarity I de-
scribed above might have resulted in the emergence of these
ceremonial centers, but, again, the data are insufficient to ex-
amine this possibility. If these mounds do date to this phase
(it is possible they date to the subsequent Wichqana phase),
they almost certainly reflect the emergence of some form
of persistent leadership based in part on religion, ceremony,
and ritual activity.
The Upper Osmore (Asana) Drainage
The upper Osmore drainage has been the focus of inten-
sive study since 1985 (Aldenderfer 1998b). A siteless survey
discovered 120 components (ten of which can be assigned
to the Preceramic), nine rockshelters were tested, and two
open-air sites, Asana and El Panteon, were extensively ex-
cavated. Two other sites in the region, Caru and Toquepala,
were excavated by Ravines (1972), and these provide com-
parative information. Murro (1999) conducted a brief survey
to the west of the drainage and discovered a few new lithic
components likely to date to the Preceramic.
Based on this research, the Late Preceramic in the
upper Moquegua can be divided into two phases: Qhuna
(ca. 3800–3000 B.C.) and Awati (ca. 3000–1500 B.C.). Resi-
dential mobility in the Qhuna phase is restricted to the high
sierra environment of the drainage, and the evidence from
Asana suggests that the frequency of moves was relatively
Mark Aldenderfer
low. Subsistence was focused on the exploitation of camelids
and taruca (Hippocamelus antisensis, or huemul deer, a small
herbivore) and the intensive collection of quinuay, a wild
variant of Chenopodium spp. common to the high sierra
environment. Residential structures at Asana were signifi-
cantly larger than those in previous periods at the site, mea-
suring some 9.5 square meters in covered floor area. Ob-
sidian is present but in very small quantities (Aldenderfer
1999:384). No other obvious nonlocal or exotic materials
were discovered.
The inhabitants of the site during this phase also con-
structed a series of small ceremonial structures—one per
level in the midst of the domestic residences. In the earli-
est levels of the phase, these structures were small and had
covered floor areas ranging from 22–67 square meters. Over
time, however, these structures grew substantially, such that
by the end of the phase, the structure was 132 square me-
ters in area. A variety of features are associated with these
structures, including a prepared clay floor, surface hearths,
simple basins, clay-lined basins, ovoids made of small stones
or small post molds, shallow, narrow trenches, clay and earth
platforms, and miniature artifacts. At the start of the phase,
the structures are simple and most activity performance
takes place outside of them. The haphazard placement of
post molds suggests a visible but bounded space, which I
have interpreted as being analogous to dance floors common
in many foraging societies. Through time, however, feature
placement and reuse becomes considerably more complex,
and by the end of the phase, the structure is large, is closed
from public view, and contains the clay-earth platform and its
associated small stone ovals. The closed nature of the struc-
ture suggests that a limited number of individuals witnessed
events transpiring inside, and the presence of the platform
suggests a formalization of ritual activity. I have interpreted
these data as reflecting an attempt to control ritual practice
and content (Aldenderfer 1993, 1998b:307).
The context within which these changes take place is one
of circumscription and reduced residential mobility. Subsis-
tence is clearly focused on the intensive use of chenopods,
but, interestingly, there is no evidence for their domestica-
tion. However, until these wild plants have been cultivated
(making them single-stalk plants with thin testas), it is hard
to increase their productivity since they have very high har-
vesting costs. But given the low regional population den-
sities, it seems unlikely that resource “stress” is playing a
causal role in the transformation of ritual. However, if we
consider that the inhabitants of the Qhuna phase also main-
tained complementarity relationships based on some form of
balanced reciprocity with other groups living at lower and
higher elevations, it may have become increasingly difficult
to repay these obligations given the difficulty of increasing
Highland Late Preceramic Period
productivity in a systematic way. Since ritual can act as an
agent of social change, the changes in the use of the ceremo-
nial structure may well reflect the redefinition of social cat-
egories through the actions of leaders who have “captured”
ritual practice. This may reflect, then, an attempt to build
persistent leadership. No other signs of aggrandizement can
be seen in the archaeological record of this phase.
If these changes reflect an attempt to build persistent
leadership, they failed, for in the subsequent Awati phase,
ceremonial structures are not built, subsistence is now fo-
cused on camelid pastoralism, residential mobility includes
movement into the adjacent puna, and residential structures
are far smaller and consistent with what is known from the
ethnographic record of a pastoral lifeway. Whether this dra-
matic change reflects an in situ transformation of subsistence
economy from Qhuna times or an outright replacement of
population from some other place is not clear (Aldenderfer
2002a), although a reanalysis of the data from the perspective
of costly signaling theory suggests that an in situ transforma-
tion is plausible (Aldenderfer in press a). Hayden (1996) has
argued that domestication may be seen as a means by which
aggrandizers create a new level of production to be used not
for subsistence but instead for a basis for feasting and conse-
quent debt generation. Given the very small scale of the site
and the associated corral, it seems unlikely that pastoralism
in this case was an aggrandizing effort, although it may have
been used by men in a form of limited status competition
(Aldenderfer in press a). Aside from a very small amount of
obsidian flaking debris, there are no other artifacts indica-
tive of long-distance trade. In fact, Awati phase settlement
is very similar to that seen on the Junin puna—small groups
of pastoralists with small herds and with little obvious so-
cial differentiation and no evidence whatsoever of persistent
leadership.
That leadership based on ritual alone is prone to failure
is not surprising (see Vaughn, this volume). Unless ritual has
a coercive element to it, ritual leaders can only exhort and
persuade their followers to action. Although ritual practice
can transform religious belief and worldview, it is likely that
if leadership is ultimately to prove persistent, it must com-
bine ritual practice with more worldly strategies of control,
either through extension of hierarchy via ritual into other do-
mains or by creating alliances with other powerful, secular
figures (Aldenderfer 1993).
The Río Ilave Drainage
The Río Ilave drainage, the largest in the southern part
of the Lake Titicaca Basin, has been the focus of intensive
research since 1994. A selective reconnaissance with the pri-
23
mary goal of defining the presence of the Preceramic in the
circum–Titicaca Basin was undertaken in 1994–95 (Alden-
derfer and Klink 1996; Klink and Aldenderfer 1996); this
survey resulted in the discovery of more than 200 Preceramic
Period components that can be securely dated. Selected
sites were tested and excavated, most importantly Pirco,
Jiskairumoko (Craig n.d.; Craig and Aldenderfer 2002), and
Kaillachuro (Aldenderfer 1998a). Although analyses of the
materials recovered are continuing, there are sufficient data
available to examine the question of persistent leadership.
Settlement patterns in the drainage reflect a trend toward
decreasing residential mobility, increasing length of resi-
dence at base camps, and settlement aggregation. As mea-
sured on a number of scales, population growth rates remain
very flat from the Middle Preceramic through the end of the
Terminal Preceramic. However, population dramatically in-
creases during the Early Formative, possibly doubling from
the Terminal Preceramic baseline in a span of only 500 years.
This growth rate is accompanied by settlement aggregation.
The proportion of large sites remains flat from the Middle
Preceramic through the Late Preceramic, jumps slightly by
the end of the Terminal Preceramic, and increases signifi-
cantly by the end of the Early Formative. Since population
does not decrease over time, it seems clear that settlement
reorganization is taking place, with population shifting to a
growing proportion of larger sites in the settlement system.
Subsistence practice reflects continued hunting through
all periods but with increasing reliance on Chenopodium
spp. and possibly tubers through time. Prior to 2600 B.C.,
both tubers and chenopods were low-density, low-ranked re-
sources. However, with increasing climatic amelioration af-
ter this date, which led to the creation of new niches for the
expansion of the range of these plants (new terraces along the
major river courses subject to annual flooding; see Rigsby et
al. 2003), they became increasingly attractive to the inhabi-
tants of the valley, who moved many of their residential bases
nearer to these terraces during the Terminal Preceramic. By
2000 B.C., chenopods have become a subsistence staple. The
role played by camelids in this transition is unclear, but as I
have argued elsewhere, it is probable that they were part of
what is best termed an agropastoral adaptation by 2000 B.C.
(Aldenderfer in press a).
Pirco, occupied sometime between 4800–3000 B.C., is
a good example of a Late Preceramic residential site. Exten-
sive geophysical survey revealed few substantial features,
and excavation of those that were discovered indicated a
short-term residential use of the site. There is no evidence
of planned reoccupation, and the artifact assemblage con-
tains large numbers of projectile points in various stages of
reduction. Importantly, there are no obsidian points or debris,
and all tools are made from locally available raw materials.
24
One secondary burial was found, but it was not accompa-
nied by grave goods. There are no indicators whatsoever of
persistent leadership strategies of any kind at the site, a find-
ing consistent with the settlement pattern and subsistence
data.
A very different picture emerges from Terminal Prece-
ramic Jiskairumoko and Kaillachuro. At the former, large-
scale excavation and geophysical survey discovered six small
pithouses in a semicircle surrounding a larger pithouse.
The date of occupation of these structures ranges from
2800–2000 B.C. The smaller pithouses, interpreted as domes-
tic structures, contain well-made stone hearths and have in-
terior storage features (small chambers dug into their walls).
The quality of construction implies planned reuse of the
facility. The larger, centrally located pithouse contains a
somewhat larger central hearth showing obvious signs of
reconstruction and has an interior bench that differentiates
it from the domestic structures. No storage facilities were
found within it. Given its size (twice the floor area of the
smaller structures), the presence of special architectural fea-
tures (interior bench, large central hearth), and its central
location, this structure may have had a religious, ritual, or
public function.
A number of artifacts associated with the pithouse occu-
pation are of note. Obsidian is common, all of the samples of
it that were sourced (n = 6) are from the Chivay source, and
it was used exclusively to fashion small projectile (prob-
ably arrow) points; 13 percent of all points were made of
obsidian, and more than half of these points had edge mod-
ifications making them more lethal. In contrast, fewer than
ten percent of all other points of similar style were edge
modified. This is an earlier manifestation of the pattern seen
at Qillqatani. Two modified camelid phalanges dated to con-
texts of ∼2300 B.C. were carved to make them into small
containers that may have been used to ingest drugs, possibly
cebil (Anadenanthera colubrine var. cebil). Cebil is found
on the eastern flanks of the Andes and, if this inference of
its use is correct, this is another indication of long-distance
trade. Finally, the most impressive artifact recovered from
the site is a necklace of nine tubular beads made of cold-
hammered gold and seven circular lapis lazuli beads found
with a secondary burial dated to ∼2500 B.C. The source of
this gold is unknown, but there are gold mines in northern
Puno, and it is possible that the gold could have come from
the central Andes, most notably the Mina Perdida source,
which has an initial occupation of ∼2000 B.C. (Burger and
Gordon 1998).
Human remains dating to the Terminal Preceramic were
recovered from both Jiskairumoko and Kaillachuro. All of
the burials at the former were secondary in nature, and none
showed evidence of trauma associated with violence. The
Mark Aldenderfer
interment associated with the gold necklace consisted of a
cranium and some postcranial elements of an adult aged in
his or her twenties mixed with postcranial elements of a
juvenile aged one to three years. The necklace was found
beneath the cranium. All of these individuals were interred
in small pits near the domestic structures and, aside from
the interment with the gold beads, none had grave goods,
although one burial was placed on a thin lens of red ochre.
Mortuary patterns at Kaillachuro are quite different. A
total of nine low ovoid to circular mounds consisting of rock
and soil are present, placed in an area of domestic habitation
judging from the dense lithic debris on the surface and large,
complex subsurface anomalies discovered through geophys-
ical prospection. Trenching in two of these mounds shows
them to contain numerous secondary burials as well as what
appears to be a primary interment in a centrally located stone
chamber in Mound 4 that descends well below ground sur-
face. The remains found at the base of the chamber were
those of a small child, possibly five to eight years of age.
The matrix within which the bones were found had evi-
dence of carbon staining and red ochre, which may have
been turned to a purplish color as a result of the burning.
The only artifact found associated with the remains was a
quantity of very small obsidian debris or shatter that was
dusted on the surface of the chamber. The matrix has been
dated to ∼2400 B.C. In addition to this burial, six other sec-
ondary interments were found in the mound. Most of these
interments were placed on ovoid or circular white and yellow
clay lenses. None had artifacts associated with them. Mound
1 (only partially excavated) contained two secondary buri-
als, one of which was associated with a stone hoe commonly
used in the Formative Period.
For these sites during the Terminal Preceramic, there
are strong indicators of prestige-building that may have been
associated with attempts to develop a foundation for persis-
tent leadership. Most obvious are the artifacts obtained from
long-distance exchange—the obsidian, cebil, and gold. As
at Qillqatani, the obsidian was used primarily for display
and possibly warfare. The cebil was not present in abun-
dance, but only those individuals with strong connections
could obtain it, then use it or offer it as a gift. The gold is the
most extraordinary of these, and the context of its disposal
is significant. Someone with powerful connections obtained
it, displayed it, and, most important, took it out of circulation
by interring it with the dead. If the association with a child
burial as a part of this process is sound, then the significance
is even greater since children with costly burial goods can
only possess these by some kind of inherited status. The child
burial in Mound 4 at Kaillachuro also speaks to inheritance,
albeit at a more humble level since obsidian was the only
good associated with the interment. Taken together, these
Highland Late Preceramic Period
data suggest that display, possibly in a competitive manner,
occupied the potential leaders at Jiskairumoko and was a
favored leadership strategy for prestige-building.
The large numbers of secondary burials at both sites
speak to the likely importance of ancestors in the ritual and
religious practice of these peoples. Ancestor worship and
veneration is well documented in Andean societies (Isbell
2002) and secondary burials are seen as a probable manifes-
tation of this (Brown 1991). If true, this implies that lineage
is recognized and is a likely source of inequality in Terminal
Preceramic times.
Finally, the burial mounds at Kaillachuro speak to yet
another important social process associated with increasing
sedentism: the formation of territories. The use of mortuary
facilities as markers of social boundaries has been inferred in
a number of societies around the world (Charles and Buikstra
1983). While this does not imply that persistent leadership
is yet present, it does suggest that a context wherein such
leadership may emerge is forming after 2400 B.C. Indeed,
social circumscription is invoked as a causal mechanism in
many processual models of the emergence of social inequal-
ity (Johnson 1982), and, as I have argued above, while neither
sufficient nor necessary for inequality to emerge, it appears
to contribute to its origins in some trajectories to persistent
leadership. In the Ilave, a pattern emerges wherein warfare
and territorial marking define a potential leadership strategy
based on threat and force, while at the same time, ancestral
worship and display define a complementary, or possibly
competing, strategy of leadership.
The Central Andean Ceremonial Sites
The central Andean ceremonial sites—Kotosh,
Huaricoto, Shillacoto, La Galgada, and Piruru—contain
some of the best evidence for understanding the emergence
of persistent leadership in the Andean highlands. A number
of important similarities among them have led some authors
to construct models of their interrelationships, including
the Kotosh Religious Tradition (Burger and Salazar-Burger
1980), which primarily describes aspects of ritual practice
that appears to span the Late Preceramic well into the
subsequent Initial Period, and the Mito architectural tradi-
tion (Bonnier 1988, 1997; Bonnier and Rozenberg 1988),
which is concerned with the stylistic development of the
earliest ritual architecture in the highlands. Although the
sites themselves are impressive, and the work done at them
is of the highest quality, a more complete understanding
of the fundamental bases of potential persistent leadership
at them is hampered by a lack of regional-scale data in
which to describe population densities and aspects of their
25
subsistence and settlement systems. The only one of these
sites that has a reasonable level of contextual data is La
Galgada (Grieder et al. 1988). Even at the sites themselves,
our understanding of developmental sequences has been
hampered by the very deep deposits found at them, which
has severely limited, or even made impossible without
wholesale destruction of later levels, the scale of excavation
efforts in their basal layers.
La Galgada is found along a tributary of the Río Santa
some 74 kilometers from the Pacific coast at an elevation
of ∼1100 meters. The site is located on a broad terrace in
a narrow river valley. Survey in this valley discovered some
11 Preceramic sites and evidence for a small-scale irrigation
complex. Grieder et al. (1988:192) speculate that these small
communities could have been in place by 3000 B.C. and pos-
sibly earlier. What is known of subsistence practice shows
that it was based on cotton, gourd, squash, beans, some fruits,
and avocado. No corn is present in the Late Preceramic. Lo-
cal population density is thought to be relatively high since
there were few easily irrigated terraces in the valley. The
earliest ceremonial architecture at the site consisted of the
North Mound with a circular court, now partially destroyed,
to its west. Atop the mound were a series of “small (3–
5 m in diameter), circular or ovoid masonry chambers with
plastered interiors, niches, benches, and central hearths with
ventilator shafts” (Moore 1996:27). They varied in their ori-
entation, some construction details, and apparently colors.
Ritual practice within the chambers was focused on the burn-
ing of offerings in the central hearth. The small size of the
chamber meant few people could enter and witness a ritual
act, a situation made more difficult as these chambers also
were used as mortuary loci. As many as four or five of these
chambers were in apparent use at any time. Chambers would
be filled in periodically, and new chambers (and mortuary
features) built atop them. The North Mound grew by ac-
cretion, although some effort was devoted at different times
during the Late Preceramic to building exterior retaining
and supporting walls. By ∼2200 B.C., the North Mound was
some ten meters in height and a smaller South Mound had
also been constructed, with small rectangular chambers with
ventilators and central hearths very similar to those seen at
Mito phase Kotosh (Grieder et al. 1988:197–198) and Mito
phase Shillacoto (Izumi et al. 1972:fig. 9).
A number of burials were recovered from the site.
The oldest, from Tomb F-12:B-2, dates to ∼2300 B.C.
(Grieder 1988:242–244). The tomb contained three individ-
uals, an adult male and two adult females. The bodies were
tightly flexed and wrapped in barkcloth and textiles. The
females had items of what were apparently personal decora-
tions, including fragments of minerals, bone pins, and stone
beads. Associated with the bodies were a number of totora
26
baskets, gourd containers and tools, and cotton bags. In Tomb
C-10:E-10, somewhat later in time, but still in the Late Pre-
ceramic, three adult females in an extended position were
discovered. The bodies were wrapped in cotton fabrics and
placed on totora mats. Each of the women had stone-and-
shell bead necklaces and hair pins (made of human bone),
and one had a pendant made of Spondylus shell. Other ar-
tifacts included totora baskets, cotton bags, tufts of cotton
fiber, and gourds. A few artifacts of turquoise were also re-
covered; Grieder et al. (1988:200) suggest that the amount
of turquoise at the site, while never substantial, nevertheless
grew through time. Other artifacts of personal adornment
included a variety of beads and pendants made of marine
shell. Colorful bird feathers were found with some inter-
ments. None of the skeletal remains showed obvious signs
of trauma caused by violence, and no infants were found in
these tombs, although there were remains of children and
subadults (Malina 1988).
The data from La Galgada offer fascinating, and possi-
bly contradictory, insights into the development of persistent
leadership in the Andean highlands. The creation of small
chambers for ritual and their later use as mortuary loci speaks
strongly to a sense of lineage and the importance of ances-
tors, a pattern with apparent deep antiquity in the Andes
(Salomon 1991). Burger and Salazar-Burger argue that the
constructions at the two larger of the highland ceremonial
sites, La Galgada and Kotosh, were performed by corporate
labor “under direction of permanent authority” (1986:66),
while the smaller, less elaborate constructions at sites like
Huaricoto were directed by some other form of labor orga-
nization, possibly one involving “a system of rotating ritual
authority within which labor is mobilized through ties of
blood, marriage, ritual kinship, and friendship” and perhaps
modeled on a cargo-like system (Burger and Salazar-Burger
1986:78). Although I agree with them that the evidence from
Huaricoto does not support an inference of a permanent au-
thority, I am not compelled by their argument that the larger
sites would have required permanent authority for the con-
structions to have been completed. Instead, I believe that a
strong case can be made for lineages as the most probable of
these formations for both small and large sites. What makes
a strong case for lineages is the clear and convincing connec-
tion between the construction of the ceremonial chambers,
ritual practices conducted within them, and their ultimate
use as mortuary facilities. In many parts of the world, in-
cluding the Andes, lineage heads have special ritual duties
and are often the leaders of ritual hierarchies (Aldenderfer
1993:29–31). Ritual practice serves as the moral basis of
authority for the lineage head and provides at least one av-
enue by which this leader can potentially extend that power
to other social fields. Because of their privileged position,
Mark Aldenderfer
lineage heads are in a good position to mobilize labor for
communal tasks that benefit both themselves and their kin. If
kin can be persuaded to cooperate and work together toward
some beneficial end, these lineage structures can exert con-
siderable social and political power (Aldenderfer 1993:30).
From this perspective, then, lineages, when properly moti-
vated and organized, are capable of providing labor sufficient
to create structures like those seen at La Galgada.
As Salomon (1991) has shown, there is a strong con-
nection in the Andes between lineages, ancestor cults, and
the creation of specialized mortuary facilities in which to
house the dead. Although his data pertain directly to the
Colonial epoch, they nevertheless provide a reasonable plat-
form for inference into a deeper antiquity. Colonial mortuary
practice was characterized by considerable variability cre-
ated by Spanish oppression and indigenous transformation
and resistance, but the connection between descent group,
ritual practice, and a sense of place crosscut most of this
variability. Although caves and rockshelters were used to
house the dead, some groups constructed small cult centers,
called llacta, composed of small buildings that housed dead
ancestors, relics, and other artifacts associated with the dead
(Salomon 1991:321). Villages that perceived common origin
or relationship would often bury their honored dead in differ-
ent parts of the same llacta. These llacta had a clear relation-
ship with place: “It was typical of the best documented llac-
tas to imagine some of their component ayllus as descended
from ancient, valley-owning agricultural heroes and ances-
tors” (Salomon 1991:322). Rituals were conducted at these
llacta and at other burial facilities by members of the descent
group and included serving the ancestors food and drink and,
as Salomon puts it, creating “a climate of solemn commu-
nion between newer generations and the ancient mothers and
fathers” (1991:324).
There are strong similarities between these Colonial
mortuary practices and the small chambers at La Galgada.
The chambers appear to have been used first as ritual fa-
cilities, then as mortuary loci. They were rebuilt and ex-
panded through time, a pattern also described by Salomon
(1991:343), and more ancestors placed within them. Sa-
lomon also alludes to a competitive process in the way cham-
bers were expanded: “At provincial and village levels the
approach of death was the occasion for planning to heighten
the affected kindred’s standing. Andean curacas (loosely
glossed as headman or ‘chief ’) prepared before their death
tombs not only sufficient to aggrandize their own mummies,
but extra vaults so that their descendants might come to be
venerated in fealty to their persons” (Salomon 1991:343).
Further, Salomon shows how a mortuary facility might
wax or wane in size, complexity, and upkeep depending
on the fortunes of the descent group. Successful groups
Highland Late Preceramic Period
may have been able to manipulate and display their suc-
cess, thereby signaling their quality and status, thus ampli-
fying their already growing social influence and prestige.
He also notes that mortuary officers (described in docu-
ments as “priests”) sat at a nexus of considerable power and
wealth. Given the ways in which lineage heads sit at such
places in more traditional societies, it is easy to see how they
could enhance their status and prestige while also providing
group-level benefits to their followers (Salomon 1991:341).
Lineage headmanship, then, could be a potential source of
persistent leadership.
The range of artifacts associated with the dead does not
seem to indicate that display or gift prestation was an impor-
tant leadership strategy unless it was made manifest through
perishable materials. Although there are objects from distant
places, such as the single Spondylus shell pendant, turquoise
beads, and feathers most probably obtained from the Ama-
zon Basin, their quantities are not substantial. The shells
used to make the personal adornments were easily obtained
from the coast either through trade or direct procurement.
However, larger shell necklaces, like that found on one of
the women in the C-10:E-10 tomb, were quite large, and al-
though plain in decoration, may have been used as gifts in
exchange cycles like those seen in New Guinea. The other
artifacts in the tombs were quotidian and are probably those
used by the deceased persons during their lives. It is possible
that the decorated cotton cloths were seen as prestige items,
although, again, the small quantities of these in the tombs
suggest that artifact disposal in mortuary contexts with the
intent of display was not a leadership strategy at La Galgada.
But prestige competition may have been manifest in a
wholly different arena: the construction of chambers and the
consequent growth of the North and South Mounds. In their
earliest form, chambers varied considerably in size, treat-
ment, and location. As noted above, chambers were proba-
bly constructed by kin groups, most likely lineages. Through
time, however, more and more chambers were constructed
on the North Mound, which began to grow larger through
this process. The chambers themselves became larger and
more elaborate and other, smaller, chambers were being built
elsewhere near the mound. It is tempting to argue that the
larger, later chambers were being built through a process of
competitive display, wherein a lineage attempted to build a
larger, more complex chamber. To do so required the labor
of others, and it is possible that it was obtained by promises
of enhanced prestige for those who willingly gave their la-
bor. It is also likely that feasting was employed as a means
to reward those who participated, but unfortunately no evi-
dence of it has been found at the site. Given what is known of
subsistence production, feasting would have been feasible.
Only the largest and most successful lineages could pursue
27
this process, and over time the numbers of competitors di-
minished, which may account for the ever-smaller number
of large chambers built on the North Mound over time. This
process culminates with a wholesale transformation of rit-
ual practice in the Initial Period, when a large, open plaza
is built atop the North Mound. This also helps to explain
the construction of the South Mound with its Kotosh-style
rectangular chambers. Lineages left out, too poor, or un-
willing to participate in the prestige competition unfolding
on the North Mound may have deliberately chosen different
architectural styles and patrons and engaged in their own dis-
play and prestige enhancement. The South Mound, however,
never achieved the size and complexity of its neighbor.
This process of competitive construction and continual
corporate effort directed at building ever-larger support and
retaining walls around the North Mound did not require a
permanent manager or emerging hereditary upper class, as
is suggested by Grieder et al. (1988:199). As with the Enga
Great War leader, who has great power in a narrowly defined
arena through mutual agreement of all participant parties,
the inhabitants of La Galgada may well have agreed on a
temporary director of this project. This could obviously have
enhanced that individual’s prestige as well as that of his
lineage, but this additional prestige did not necessarily
translate into other social fields. Once the project was
completed, all parties could return to their competitive
construction displays.
Whether the dramatic changes seen in the Initial Period
reflect the emergence of a “hereditary upper class” or a form
of persistent leadership is not clear. The transformation of
the platform of the North Mound to an enclosed plaza with
a single large ceremonial hearth and no other architectural
embellishments certainly suggests that one of the Late Pre-
ceramic competitors may have won the prestige competition
and assumed a dominant position in ritual activity. Unfortu-
nately, other lines of evidence that could be used to bolster
this hypothesis or to see whether this prestige translated into
other social arenas cannot be obtained from the North Mound
because of extensive looting. Excavations in residential areas
surrounding the mounds, however, could provide some in-
sight into this. Although we might not be able to “know” the
exact form of persistent leadership, that is, how it played out
in other social arenas, it is plausible that it is indeed present
at the very end of the Late Preceramic at La Galgada.
This model of competitive construction within a ritual
context is not characteristic of the other highland ceremo-
nial sites despite very significant similarities in the archi-
tectural details of ceremonial spaces and the kinds of rituals
performed within them. At Piruru, the earliest ceremonial
structures in Bonnier’s (1997:127) pre-Mito phase are quite
variable and include eight small square or circular chambers
28
similar to those at La Galgada, a single semisubterranean
temple, one open-air hearth with associated sacred floor,
and two subterranean spherical structures. What all facili-
ties (except the two subterranean structures) share are central
hearths used for ritual burning and the use of red soil and
clay both to make floor-altars and to cap them to build new
ones atop the old ones. In the following Mito phase, a single
Mito-style temple is constructed that is similar in size to its
contemporaries at Kotosh. At Chaukayan phase Huaricoto,
which dates to ∼2300–2200 B.C., although ritual form and
performance within the earliest ceremonial constructions—
central hearths surrounded by a cleared platform, but no
surrounding walls—is similar to that of the earliest cham-
bers constructed at La Galgada, the number of platforms
grows very slowly through time, as does change in their
architectural plan (Burger and Salazar-Burger 1985:121).
It is probable that the social formation that built the plat-
forms was a family or, more probably, a lineage (Burger
and Salazar-Burger 1980). Kotosh is perhaps the most sim-
ilar to La Galgada in terms of the numbers and complexity
of structures built during the Late Preceramic (Izumi and
Terada 1972; see also Bonnier 1997:129–140 for a thor-
ough review of Kotosh architectural sequences), but here
too the number of constructions is quite limited. Only two
structures are known from the earliest occupation of the site
(Mito I); this increases to four chambers in Mito II times
(the famous Templo de las Manos Cruzadas on Platform 2
and a two-story, three-chamber construction on Platform 4).
In Mito IIIa, the Templo de las Manos Cruzadas is ritually
buried, and the first Templo de los Nichitos is constructed.
The two-story chambers on Platform 4 are consolidated into
one larger rectangular temple by Mito IIIc times, a pattern
that continues through the end of the Late Preceramic. Thus
while the number of structures at these sites is consolidated
through time, there is no evidence for competitive construc-
tion at them. Ritual practice may have been similar at all of
them as is indicated by common architectural features, and it
is probable that the chambers all served lineages or perhaps
multilineage formations, but the only site that has convinc-
ing evidence for the emergence of persistent leadership by
the end of the Late Preceramic is La Galgada.
Why Is Persistent Leadership Uncommon in
the Late Preceramic?
Only one setting in the highland Late Preceramic–
La Galgada—appears to have some form of persistent
leadership. Even here, however, it comes very late in the
occupation of the site, right at the advent of the Initial
Period. Much of what seems complex about the site earlier
Mark Aldenderfer
in the Preceramic can in fact be explained by a model
of competitive construction, rather than one involving an
emergent elite. The only other region that approaches the
complexity seen at La Galgada is in the Ayacucho Basin,
and, again, whatever we can identify as persistent leadership
appears at the very end of the Preceramic. Elsewhere in
the highlands, while there are clearly attempts to build
individual and collective prestige, these attempts are very
small scale and in some cases, as at Qhuna phase Asana,
unsuccessful. What can explain this pattern?
We can begin with a review of contexts for the emer-
gence of persistent leadership. Among those identified as
having a role in the emergence of inequality are high popu-
lation density, circumscription, sedentism or low frequencies
of residential mobility, resource abundance, resource stress,
and the presence of easily intensified resources. Being mind-
ful of the lack of archaeological data for many of the case
studies, of these, La Galgada and the Ayacucho Basin share
sedentism, resource abundance, and easily intensified re-
sources. In both areas, Late Preceramic subsistence systems
are thought to involve low-level food production of domes-
ticated plants and, at least in the Ayacucho Basin, maize is
thought to be a plant of growing significance to the diet, al-
though not yet a full subsistence staple. Although the other
case studies show sedentary or near-sedentary occupations,
none can be characterized by resource abundance, although
this requires more discussion. None of the case studies show
any sign of resource stress; if anything, the regional climatic
picture suggests climatic amelioration across the highlands
throughout the entire Late Preceramic (Baker et al. 2001;
Cross et al. 2001). While this does not necessarily imply
that some local ecologies in the highlands could not have
suffered some deterioration, the regional data suggest such
reversals would have been temporary and short lived. Popu-
lation growth is seen in every case study for which we have
settlement data, and while this growth may have been rapid,
no case study appears to reflect a situation of high popu-
lation density. Circumscription may have had a role in the
Asana case study and possibly in the Ilave with its early ter-
ritory formation, but it does not seem to have been a factor
in others.
The issue of resource abundance and the presence of in-
tensifiable resources requires further consideration, because,
as noted above, some agent-based models of the domestica-
tion process invoke aggrandizers as a causal factor since such
resources provide a means by which they can prepare more
food for feasts of all kinds, generate competitive displays, or
obtain prized items for gift prestations. Camelids are said to
have been domesticated at some point during the Late Pre-
ceramic in Junin, the Río Chila, the upper Moquegua, and
quite probably the Río Ilave. However, whatever the causal
Highland Late Preceramic Period
process behind their domestication, they did not, at least
during the Late Preceramic, provide a basis for the devel-
opment of persistent leadership. The reason is simple: it is
difficult to easily or rapidly intensify animals in the same way
this is possible for plants. Pastoral occupations are inherently
limited by pasturage requirements, the relatively slow rate of
reproduction of camelids (one live birth per year) compared
with that of plants, and, importantly, the labor required to
manage herds successfully. Thus while herders may create
a relatively stable resource base, it cannot be grown rapidly
(Alvard and Kuznar 2001; Aldenderfer in press a). Com-
pounding this is the relatively late appearance of camelid
domestication in each of the sequences.
The situation in the Río Ilave drainage is somewhat
more complex. Here, camelids, chenopods, and tubers form
the basis of an agropastoral subsistence adaptation. Both
chenopods and tubers become permanent subsistence sta-
ples in the Formative, but clearly they have not achieved
this status in the Terminal Preceramic. At least in part this
can be explained by noting that only after ∼2600 B.C. and
the formation of the lower, annually flooded terraces as
a result of climatic amelioration did either chenopods or
tubers reach natural densities sufficient to raise their resource
rankings. Chenopods would have been more quickly drawn
into the diet, followed more slowly by tubers, which have
much higher processing costs because of their natural toxic-
ity. Although they may have entered the diet quickly, it does
not necessarily follow that they were used intensively and,
indeed, the archaeological data from the Ilave show that it
took around 500 years for population to double. Thus while
resources capable of being intensified were present, it does
not appear that they were used in a systematic way to support
persistent leadership strategies until well into the Formative.
Among the varied sources of potential leadership
positions that were exploited during the Late Preceramic,
two stand out: lineage and ritual. At the central Andean
ceremonial sites, lineage appears to have been expressed
in the construction of ritual chambers and at La Galgada
by their subsequent use as mortuary facilities. Competitive
construction may have been directed by lineage heads. At
Kaillachuro, small mounds housed the dead through both
primary and secondary interments. These observations are
consistent with Moseley’s (1992:127) argument that in the
Andes, lineage, expressed as ayllu, has a deep antiquity and
is reflected by special mortuary practices, some of which
include secondary burial. The relationship between lineage
control and ritual practice is especially appealing, because it
is clear that ritual specialists, while they may exert great
influence over decision-making, often find it difficult to
translate this influence to other fields. But combined with
a potentially large demographic foundation of support, the
29
lineage head may find it easier to generate surplus to support
costly ritual activities such as the chamber constructions at
La Galgada or the platform mounds in the Ayacucho Basin.
Leadership strategies in the Late Preceramic reflect a
mixture of prestige-based approaches and those built around
threat and warfare. The evidence for the former is best seen
in the Río Ilave, where gold and obsidian were obtained
for display and use in mortuary treatments. The quantity
of the most costly item, gold, was very small and of very
limited distribution. Obsidian was more abundant but was
used in a specialized manner—to fashion arrow points—a
pattern also seen in the Río Chila area as well as in the
Ayacucho Basin. Prestige-building through the acquisition
of expensive objects was relatively unimportant at the central
Andean ceremonial sites, where whatever surplus that was
generated was directed at competitive construction, at least
at La Galgada and possibly Kotosh. Although direct evidence
for warfare is not present, the large numbers of arrow points
made in the Río Chila and Ilave cases strongly suggests that
it was of importance in the Late Preceramic.
A strategy conspicuous by its absence is feasting. This
does not mean that it was not practiced but that its scale was
fairly small and that potential leaders may have relied on
other means to convince or coerce individuals to cooperate
with their undertakings. Feasting would have been difficult
to maintain for any length of time in the Junin and Río Chila
cases given the relative incapacity of early pastoralism to
generate significant numbers of animals in a short time to
be used toward that end. Feasting would have also been very
hard to employ at Asana because the resource base could
not have supported it effectively. Feasting would have been
feasible in the Ayacucho Basin and at the central Andean
sites, especially at La Galgada, and to a lesser extent in the
Río Ilave.
Concluding Remarks
In summary, potential leaders in the highlands experi-
mented with different leadership strategies and had varying
degrees of success in the development of their personal pres-
tige through the use of lineage, ritual, and possibly small-
scale warfare and conflict. In some cases, contextual factors
helped to promote the emergence of persistent leadership,
whereas in others, contexts failed to provide potential lead-
ers with sufficient flexibility or opportunity to obtain the
resources they needed to pursue their agendas. Although I
have stressed the importance of resource configurations as
a major reason Late Preceramic leaders found it difficult to
build persistent leadership, it is very important to remem-
ber that whatever prestige they were able to amass was very
30
much contingent on the social contexts in which they lived
and their ability to inspire their kin and neighbors to sup-
port them. This problem is expressed well by Wiessner and
Tumu in their explanation of processes of change seen in
Enga society in New Guinea:
On first glance, the brilliant performances of the big-men
of the twentieth century obscure to some extent what they
could not change: that fundamental alterations in Enga
social and political structure lagged behind economic
and ritual developments. Individual and collective ac-
tion restructured the economic base, ritual repertoire, and
even aspects of cosmology, but rights that were essential
for prosperity and reproduction were staunchly defended:
rights to land, the products of labor, equal status, and
symmetrical reciprocity…It appears that only sustained
quantitative growth, both demographic and economic,
might have tipped the balance toward more enduring
social inequalities by making the social rules and ori-
entations of generations past no longer compatible with
existing institutions [1998:372; my emphasis].
In other words, equality is strongly defended by those
who do not have high prestige or great influence, and per-
sistent leadership is tolerated, rather than prized. Wiess-
ner and Tumu continue, asserting “that centralized, strati-
fied societies developed independently only rarely in history
out of unusual circumstances, while others formed out of
competition with or domination by more complex societies”
(1998:300).
I will conclude with two observations based on these
remarks. The first is that while resource abundance is a
necessary condition for the emergence of truly persistent
leadership, persistent leadership may only actually become
accessible through the mediation of religious practice, rit-
ual action, and the dramatic manipulation of belief sys-
tems. Enga leaders were able to transform much in their
economies and even some of their ritual behaviors, but all
of the changes lay within the paradigm of earlier belief sys-
tems, which, as the quotation above suggests, were no longer
compatible with the changes they had indeed wrought. But
control of religious beliefs through ritual action can in fact
change social categories such that new institutions may have
a firmer foundation in day-to-day reality for most people. In
the case of the Enga, Wiessner and Tumu (1998:379), fol-
lowing Strathern’s (1994) work, argue that ritual cults, which
embodied new ways of thinking about social and exchange
relationships and which often crosscut lineage affiliations,
served as a medium for big men or great men to obtain
wealth and prestige from other sources. The cults served
as means by which emergent leaders could justify their in-
creased wealth and prestige and could, over time, serve to
perpetuate their leadership across generations. The data from
the Andean highlands tend to underline the importance of
Mark Aldenderfer
control over religion and ritual, in that two of the success-
ful transitions to persistent leadership, La Galgada and the
Ayacucho Basin, show evidence of this. And even where no
persistent leadership occurred, such as at the smaller central
Andean ceremonial sites and at Asana, religion and ritual
practice were important.
The second observation—that of the sheer difficulty
of creating persistent leadership—provides a way for us to
understand why La Galgada is so precocious in the emer-
gence of persistent leadership when compared with other
highland sites. As Grieder et al. (1988) have observed, the
site is strategically located in a transportation corridor that
linked the coast with the puna to the eastern flanks of the
Andes. Moreover, it is within a three to four days’ walk
from the coast, which witnessed the development of persis-
tent leadership some 200–300 years earlier. The site shows
strong links to the coast in terms of exchange relationships.
Thus while the expression of leadership opportunities might
have taken highland forms, specifically in the construction
of ritual chambers of highland style, its inhabitants may have
been stimulated to engage in competitive construction at La
Galgada to emulate what was already taking place on the
coast. The competition was not with the coast, but potential
leaders used existing persistent leadership strategies already
in place on the coast as models for their own activities in
the highlands. Domination or competition may well explain
some trajectories to persistent leadership, but in this case it
is quite likely imitation and emulation are better explana-
tions of La Galgada and the relatively early emergence of
persistent leadership at it.
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