The Indus Civilization Read online

  56 Possehl 1999b: 727—845.

  57 Khan 1965.

  58 Fairservis 1956.

  59 Wright 1985

  60 Possehl 1998; 1999b: 713—24.

  61 Dales 1979: 47.

  62 Khan 1965: 22.

  63 Dani 1970—71: 39—40.

  64 Casal 1964: 7.

  65 Jarrige 1989: 64—65.

  66 Lal 1979: 75.

  67 Thapar 1973: 87.

  68 Gupta 1978: 142.

  69 Raikes 1968.

  70 Casal 1964: 39—42.

  71 Flam 1993.

  72 Jarrige 1988, 1989.

  73 Khatri and Acharya 1995.

  74 Bisht 1982: 116.

  75 Bisht 1991.

  76 Meadow 1991.

  77 Possehl 1986b: 96—98; Possehl 1993; Possehl and Rissman 1992.

  78 Possehl 1990, 1993; Shaffer and Lichtenstein 1989.

  79 Shaffer and Lichtenstein 1989: 123, citing Possehl 1986b: 96—98; Possehl and Rissman 1992.

  80 Wheeler 1959: 108.

  81 Ghosh 1965: 116.

  82 Wheeler 1968: 24—25.

  83 Gupta 1978: 144.

  84 Jarrige 1988: 201.

  85 Jansen 1987: 15.

  86 Cucarzi 1987: 81.

  87 Khatri and Acharya 1995.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Indus Civilization

  INTRODUCTION

  This chapter is devoted to an overview of the Indus Civilization and begins with a discussion of their ideology, followed with a perspective on the Indus political order, the diversity of its peoples, their settlement patterns, and the subsistence system. Finally, short reviews of some interesting sites are included.

  THE IDEOLOGY OF THE INDUS CIVILIZATION

  I have a strong sense that the defining characteristic of the Indus Civilization, as with most peoples, was their ideology. By ideology I am attempting to convey the notion that the Indus peoples had a well-defined set of concepts about human life and culture that they used to set themselves apart from other peoples. This was an Indus institution based on propositions that could be neither affirmed nor denied that set forth the social, especially political, aspirations of these peoples.

  We can be sure that there was an Indus ideology, and this book gives me a chance to begin to grapple with it. I also want to open a subject matter that, if not new, is certainly not well developed in the writing on the Indus Civilization. Who were these Harappan peoples?—not biologically, or in the sense of their geographical home, but what were they like, what made them tick?

  As my thoughts began to deal with the Indus ideology, I wondered what it could possibly be. I am still not sure, since finding “the” ideology of the Indus peoples was pretty clearly an impossible goal, at least at the moment. Therefore, I decided to accept a kind of proxy, or first approximation. Assuming that the ideology of the Indus peoples would be reflected (approximated) in the archaeological record, I decided to use as my proxies those traits of the Indus Civilization that come to mind as the most distinctive Harappan features—the important things I think of when I think of them. These are features of the Indus Civilization that define the civilization for me, give it character and substance, set it apart from other complex sociocultural systems of antiquity.

  This led me to four aspects of the Indus ideology:

  The Indus peoples were nihilists who sought to bring a new sociocultural order to the Greater Indus region.

  Urbanization and city life were a part of this new ideology.

  The physical and symbolic aspects of water formed a part of the Indus ideology. M. Jansen calls it wasserluxus, a term I have integrated into my position on Indus ideology.

  The Indus ideology promoted technological prowess and innovation.

  I have found that these aspects of ideology are expressed in visual and symbolic form in the Indus cities, towns, villages, and camps. They are found in the distinctive Indus artifacts—stamp seals, painted pottery, figurines, architecture, baked-brick buildings, brick-lined wells, bathing facilities, new or expanded technologies, and the like. The Early Harappan peoples were not seafarers; the Indus peoples were. Thus, the Indus maritime technology was also a part of, or resulted from, the Indus ideology.

  In thinking about this ideology that I have “found,” it became clear that it would be an excess to believe that it is “the” ideology of these peoples. Those things that I have used to define the “ideology of the Indus Civilization” may well be close to what the Indus peoples believed. Some of it might even be “spot on,” but to think of this collection of observations as the genuine, complete ideology of the Indus Civilization would be wrong. It is an approximation of the deeper values of the Indus peoples that have been expressed to us archaeologically. My goal in this discussion is therefore quite modest. I want to pursue a theme in the study of the Indus Civilization that I believe to be important that has not yet received the attention it deserves.

  The Indus Civilization and Nihilism

  The immense differences between the Indus Civilization, as compared to the Early Harappan, can be seen as a replacement of the older Early Harappan symbolic system with a new order and way of life. The Indus peoples turned their backs on their own past and replaced it with this, a new order and way of life. Archaeologists see this new order, or ideology, expressed as new signs and symbols such as new artifact styles, architecture, town planning, innovations in technology, and the like.

  The changes in settlement location that take place with the Mature Harappan can also be interpreted as an attempt to break with the past: stop living where the old traditions linger, build a new settlement where the new ideology will prosper. This is expressed in the archaeological record as abandoned Early Harappan sites and Indus sites founded on virgin soil. For example, Mohenjo-daro is thought to be a “founder’s city,” a place planned and built on virgin soil. Not all of the large Indus settlements were like this. Harappa, for example, has a very important Early Harappan occupation and a transitional occupation into the Mature Harappan. But there is a proclivity for Indus sites to be founded on virgin soil: 755 out of 1,058 sites, or 71 percent. Of the 523 Early Harappan sites we know of, 324 (62 percent) were abandoned prior to the Mature Harappan. This finding documents the observation that the Indus peoples tended to build new settlements, on fresh soil, abandoning their past in the form of the places that were home to their ancestors. The rate for the founding of Indus new settlements is significantly greater than that for the other stages of the Indus Age.1

  I think of this kind of behavior as “nihilistic,” a concept with many connotations. The one used here is as an ideology that espouses great, even revolutionary, change, in a sociocultural system whose past has come to be seen as vacuous, baseless, even corrupt, or perhaps just wrong. Nihilists are those who attempt to deny their heritage and replace it with a new order, or ideology. This resonates with my strong sense that the Indus Civilization brings with it a sense of originality, something new and fresh. Nihilistic movements may or may not be associated with violence. This is not the predominant theme that I see in the origins of the Indus Civilization, but I have already noted that the Early Harappan—Mature Harappan Transition was a period of unusual conflagrations, and that may be telltale of the fact that Indus nihilism was not free of aggression.

  It is very difficult for a people to totally rid themselves of their past, so it is not surprising that there are lines of continuity, sometimes strong, between the Early Harappan and Mature Harappan. The most obvious of these is in food production and the fact that the Indus peoples were barley and wheat farmers and cattle pastoralists, just like their Early Harappan ancestors. This observation carries with it implications for continuities in symbiotic relations among regions, farming practices, knowledge of pastoralism, animal husbandry, and the like. Some of the vaunted Indus technology has its roots deep into the Indus Age, and there is much continuity in these fields. In this sense the Indus technologists built on a past rich in accomplishment, but this should not
be used to lessen our sense of their prowess and the documentation of their spectacular achievements. The artifactual record has continuities as well with shared ceramic vessel forms and pottery motifs: intersecting circles, fish scales, and checkerboards come to mind.

  While there is continuity between the Early Harappan and Mature Harappan, this is not the dominant theme. What is most apparent, and important to me, is that the Indus Civilization carries with it a sense of the new, of original creativity, to such a spectacular degree that it brings nihilism to mind.

  Urbanization and Sociocultural Complexity in the Indus Civilization

  Urbanization and sociocultural complexity are interrelated and defining features of the Indus Civilization. The cities of Mohenjo-daro and Harappa, now including Ganweriwala, Dholavira, and Rakhigarhi, both symbolize and define the Indus Civilization. The size and complexity of the Indus cities are distinctive features of the Mature Harappan, not clearly developed out of even the largest of the Early Harappan places.

  The ancient cities of the Indus are interesting for many reasons. One of the most important is that they arose so rapidly from relatively undifferentiated Early Harappan communities. Mohenjo-daro and the Indus occupations of Harappa and Dholavira were different from the settlements that came before them. This is expressed in many ways: size, architectural elaboration, some sense of town planning, layout, water acquisition and management.

  There is good evidence that the Indus Civilization was a well-developed, complex sociocultural form. This is best inferred from the large, complex Indus economy, the geographic scale of the civilization and implications of ethnic diversity, its technological achievements, and urbanization. There is evidence for so many complex jobs (“scribes,” seal cutters, metalworkers, architects, and/or engineers, etc.) that one has to think in terms of a multiplicity of craft and career specialists. There are also differences between urban and rural settings in terms of wealth. This is documented by the richness of finds, especially the hoards, and speaks to the issue of sociocultural differentiation.

  The sociocultural complexity of the Indus Civilization is distinctive in two important ways: the absence of temples or other monumental buildings serving the religious institution and the absence of monumental residences for kings and elites of this sort. The Indus ideology did not admit such sociocultural expressions. Just as this ideology inhibited such expressions, they were promoted in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. In fact, the religious and political institutions of the Indus Civilization expressed themselves in significantly different ways from all of the other civilizations of the ancient world.

  There is no full consensus among archaeologists on the definition of the archaic state, although some agreement on a few points is at hand. The archaic state was a form of political organization. It is characteristic of peoples with large-scale economies, ethnic diversity, and considerable specialization in craft and career tracks. The administration of the archaic state was performed by a bureaucracy of career specialists. The craft and career specialists of an archaic state, along with other peoples of their society, were arranged in a hierarchy of classes. The archaic state monopolized the use of force as a means of social control and an agency to protect, if not expand, the sovereignty of the people it encompassed. The archaic state had a strong focus on kingship, or centralized leadership, that was in all likelihood given to the aggrandizement of the individuals who rose to this office. The economies of states tended to be somewhat centralized, controlled from the office of the king, so that they could effectively serve the diplomatic and military needs of the political apparatus. This implied staff functionaries (more bureaucrats) to implement and monitor the economic decision making as well as to collect revenue and produce for the center. Monumental religious architecture and a well-developed parallel hierarchy of the religious institution promoted allegiance and loyalty to the king and central administration of the archaic state. The notion of an archaic state carries with it a strong sense of elitism and exclusivity for relatively small numbers of powerful people. Key themes in understanding the archaic state are centralization and hierarchy.

  It is increasingly apparent that not all archaic complex societies were organized as archaic states with their highly centralized, severely hierarchical sociocultural systems. Some archaic complex societies share with the archaic state key features such as urbanization, large political economies, vast territories, social classes, craft and career specialists, but the way these elements were expressed, the way they all fit together to form a working sociocultural system, was different from the archaic state.

  R. Ehrenreich, C. Crumley, and J. Levy conceive of the archaic complex sociocultural systems that were not organized along the lines of the archaic state as “heterarchies.”2 They stress the decentralized nature of some archaic complex societies. This decentralization is linked to muted principles of centralization and hierarchy. It is not that centralization and hierarchy were absent from heterarchies, but differences among people were based on multiple criteria; there was an emphasis on shared power and the collective management of society. Institutions like kingship were either very weak, along the lines of “firsts among equals,” or hardly present at all. Power was distributed, and accessed, differently in heterarchies as compared to archaic states.

  R. Blanton and his associates contrast archaic complex sociocultural systems in terms of an emphasis on “exclusionary” versus “corporate” principles of organization.3 They emphasize that all complex societies incorporate elements of both “exclusivity” and “corporateness” in their makeup; but these principles can be expressed to very different degrees. The archaic state emphasized the exclusionary principle with centrality and well-developed principles of hierarchy. But corporate principles prevailed in other systems. They were heterarchical and less centralized, hierarchy was muted, and mechanisms such as joint rule and councils were used to govern and maintain social control.

  Exclusionary and corporate sociocultural systems can be equally complex, both with large economies incorporating a multiplicity of ethnicities as well as craft and career specialists; rule vast territories; and build grand urban landscapes. But they are based on different sociocultural principles. Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia were more exclusionary than corporate. The Indus Civilization was more corporate than exclusionary. The peoples of the Indus Civilization formed more of a heterarchy than they were a hierarchy.

  Realizing that we do not know what the political form of the Indus Civilization was, but if it was more corporate than exclusionary, as hints in the archaeological record suggest, then I can imagine that the Indus peoples were ruled by a series of “councils” or gatherings of leaders, rather than a king. Age and gender probably counted for much in the determination of leadership, as did adherence to and practice of the Indus ideology. There may have been civic councils for individual settlements, regional councils for the Domains or the political unit above the civic, and possibly a supreme “Indus Council.” I sense in the Indus peoples a marked distrust in government, per se, especially strong, centralized government.

  In the absence of a strong, centralized religion and religious monuments, the Indus ideology emerges as of prime importance. The ideology lacks firm substance in terms of monumental buildings (gigantic pyramids, ziggurats, temples, etc.) and therefore may have been more in the mind of the Indus peoples than a physical reality that they gazed upon in awe and fear. Like being a “good Marxist” was valued in the former Soviet Union, being a “good Harappan” may have been what was valued by the peoples of the Indus Civilization. The ideology, like religion in the archaic state, thus emerges as the central force in Indus social control and allegiance.

  The Indus Civilization and Wasserluxus

  Water and its management played an interesting role in Indus life. This is probably clearest at Mohenjo-daro and Dholavira with the many wells, elaborate drainage systems, bathing facilities in virtually all of the houses, and the Great Bath itself. Water is such an import
ant substance at Mohenjo-daro that M. Jansen has published a book titled Mohenjo-daro: City of Wells and Drains, Water Splendor 4000 Years Ago.4 The translation of wasserluxus as “water splendor” from the original does not quite catch the word’s meaning, so I use the German. The bathing facilities in each house inform us that washing and cleanliness were important to the Harappans. We have to anticipate, I think, that this involved both physical cleanliness, as well as something of a more symbolic nature. The many wells throughout the city were sources of new, pure water, essential for effective cleanliness. The drainage system served to move the effluent away from the houses, below ground, safely out of the way and safely out of sight, in brick-lined channels that prevented contamination of the earth and the city.

  The Great Bath is a Mohenjo-daro bathing platform, raised to the civic level. It is larger and more complex than household facilities, but conforms to the proposition that cleanliness of both types was an important element in the Indus ideology. It is interesting, too, that the builders of the Great Bath used elevation and distance to symbolically set it apart from the rest of Mohenjo-daro. This was important ritual space, one that seems to have been reserved for the elites of the city, possibly the elites of the entire Indus world. As we shall see, the beginning of the end of the transformation of this great metropolis was at hand when the Great Bath was abandoned and no longer used.