CONCLUSION

As indicated in the Preface, this volume could have been organized in several, equally valid ways. The choice William H. Isbell and I made was designed to encourage comparison across the traditional culture areas and contemporary countries of South America around major themes. Although theory does not dominate the HSAA because of its role as a handbook (a similar constraint on the HSAI), many authors have framed the empirical problems of their chapters with significant theoretical insight.

That areal thinking still dominates American and Americanist academic archaeology and that there is a geocultural bias in academic archaeology is readily revealed in any job ad—for instance, “Wanted: Andeanist,” which is then followed by the particular theoretical (e. g., “complex societies” or “social complexity”—depending on the dominance of proc-cessual or postprocessual archaeologists on the search committee) and technical skills (e. g., “GIS,” “pottery analysis”) sought. Most archaeologists would still identify themselves as

“an Andeanist,” “an Egyptologist,” “a North Americanist” rather than saying “a practice-agency-materialist.” But the vocal and prolific efforts of a new group of theory-driven scholars is starting to shift the dominant paradigm from geographically based archaeological cultures to supra-areal theoretical issues (such as elite agency, commoner resistance and negotiation, identity practices, and so on).

Particularly in Latin America, whose countries are recognizably and admittedly poorer than the United States and whose universities and national research institutes are therefore less funded than their U. S. counterparts (Mexico’s multi-million dollar budget for a select group of mega-projects is an exception to this generalization), national archaeologists tend to focus on the prehistory of their own countries rather than working outside of them. It is the Americans and Europeans who have the luxury to conduct research in foreign lands, and the argument has been made that American archaeology outside the United States is inherently “colonialist” or “imperialist” (Patterson 1986a, b) [Note 6]. But this has not been the intent of the vast majority of U. S. scholars working today in Latin America and, specifically in terms of this volume, South America. Indeed, a host of publications from many countries reveal significant, enthusiastic, and productive intellectual partnerships. These are becoming evermore balanced as national archaeologists receive the same level of academic training (in distinction to field practices, where they usually excel) as their U. S. counterparts. And in some cases, national archaeologists are driving the international research agenda with brilliant results (the study of ancient Moche society on Peru’s north coast is an example; see Uceda and Mujica 1994, 2003). In the context of the remarks just made, William H. Isbell and I felt it imperative to address the contemporary context and practice of archaeology in South America; these papers appear in the final section of the HSAI (other essays that should be consulted include Barreto 1998; Benavides 2004; Castillo Butters and Mujica Barreda 1995; Funari 1999, 2005; Gnecco 1999; Lopez Mazz 1999; Mamani Condori 1989; Patterson 1989, 1995, 1996; Politis 1999; Salazar 1995; Vargas Arenas and Sanoja 1999; Williams 1996; Yacobaccio 1994).

to the outreach and financial support of the World Archaeological Congress, archaeologists from less developed countries are able to participate in major international meetings, engendering a trans-areal and supra-areal dialogue around issues of concern. More prosperous countries, such as Mexico, are able to fund their archaeologists to regularly attend international meetings. In addition, the very advance of research is breaking down the provincialism of archaeology. Thus, a recent article in The SAA Archaeological Record expounded “a continental perspective for North American archaeology” (Lekson and Peregrine 2004), recognizing that some empirical problems (in their case: “Why are there Mexican sumptuary objects at Chaco Canyon and none at Cahokia?”) require crossing boundaries (those of the traditional culture areas and contemporary political borders). I completely agree that, “global history suggests that the world itself has a history of interconnections and linkages among its regions and civilizations” (Lekson and Peregrine 2004: 15). Late Pleistocene studies concerning early peopling and ecological and cultural adaptations have long required continental and, indeed, hemispheric perspectives. Caribbean prehistory can not be understood without reference to the Orinoco basin from which the first migrants emigrated. Navigable river systems in South America have long promoted and facilitated trade over immense distances (e. g., Lathrap 1973) and population groups migrated (e. g., Chapters 33 and 34 in this volume). Many symposia at the annual meetings of the Society for American Archaeology are framed in terms of a theoretical issue (from the 2006 annual meeting for instance, feasting and politics in pre-state societies, households and political economy, rational actors in complex societies), and many

Are areally based (e. g., archaeology in the Caribbean region, archaeology in northern and central South America) or particularly culturally based (e. g., Andean states: Wari and Inca; panels focused on a site or culture usually are the result of large-team, multi-year projects). A growing number of panels explicitly integrate theory and culture/culture area (e. g., “agency, settings and architecture in Andean archaeology”; “theorizing the Late Intermediate Period in the Andes: large-scale patterns, local trajectories”). Many important empirical problems remain unsolved and meaningful theorizing requires deep areal competence, achieved only by extended fieldwork in a region with hands-on data analysis. This should never be sacrificed to theoretical fashion.

Academic pursuits are never independent of their larger real-life contexts. For instance, it is no coincidence that the surge of archaeological interest in ethnic/cultural identity in the late 1980s and throughout 1990s occurred at a time of aggressive ethnogen-esis and ethnocide in the world around us (the recent war in the Balkans is a paradigmatic example). Thus, the current push for supra-areal engagement intellectually, recognition of supra-areal linkages in ancient times, and continued interest in the generalities and variations in processes of hegemony and performative domains of social, political, economic, religious and ideological power co-occur with similar studies of globalization today.

That archaeology usually responds, borrows, and adapts (especially theory from outside the discipline) rather than innovates is not a negative attribute of the field. To the contrary, archaeology is relevant precisely because it is dynamic and creative. The great cultural diversity of South America in the past has been scientifically studied for more than a century and will remain interesting well into the future. South America offers case studies of relevance to particular culture area interests and to cross-cultural concerns at the most fundamental empirical levels and the most rarefied theoretical planes. This handbook hopes to inform the reader and stimulate further integrative research.

Acknowledgments I thank Tom Dillehay for his valuable comments on this chapter and for sharing with me his paper (in press) called “Latin American archaeology in history and practice.” I am responsible for the final form of this chapter.