carried out in order to disgrace someone’s public reputation and memory, becoming more common in the late second and third centuries AD (Varner 2006 : 70). Real or symbolic decapitation deprived such figures of their honour and repudiated their rule. Does this reflection on the martial and sociopolitical purpose of decapitation help us think differently about the head from Worsley Moss? In order to evaluate whether this was a martial trophy or cult activity, we need to set such violence back into the context of the Roman occupation of northern Britain.
, as in the case of the occupation and subsequent annexation
of Bosnia and Herzegovina (Donia, 2008; Ruthner, 2008). These lands
were surrounded by Austro-Hungarian territory on two out of three
sides, in contrast with the more prominent colonial experiences of the
British or Spanish Empires. The term ‘frontier’ here also stresses the fact
that Austro-Hungarian colonialism was not, so to speak, colonialism
in its full right. However, this colonialism was not particularly unique.
Frontier colonialism is just one form of the ‘informal imperialism’ or
small-scale societies. As such, the division between apparently ‘pragmatic’ and more ‘ritualised’ explanations of bog body violence will become blurred. Instead, the notion of the generative affect of violent performance will be critically discussed within the notion of both a ‘sacrificial’ and a ‘destructive’ economy (after Fontijn 2020 ). It will also critically consider how these practices might have been shaped and transformed anew by the Roman Empire, in those countries facing conquest and occupation, as well as those on the edge of this colonial ‘ripple effect
Re-thinking Ludwik Fleck’s concept of the thought-collective according to
the case of Serbian archaeology
time of the occupation because
Belgrade University was closed and did not enrol new students’ (HamMilovanović, 2009: 121–2). A wide spectrum of topics had occupied
the attention of archaeologists in Serbia before the Second World War,
and the interpretations found in the works of Miodrag Grbić were
among them, alongside Vasić’s standpoint. Grbić’s interpretations are of
extreme importance owing to the eventual role that the course, organised under his guidance, would play in the history of Serbian archaeology (Bandović, 2014: 629–48). However, like many others
the mithraeum (ASSAR, busta 40.6). Felleti-Maj wrote her report days
after the German occupation of Rome, and because of the war there
was no practical follow-up to her alerting memo. But eventually the
issue was brought up again in October 1951 in an internal report of the
Italian archaeological service by Carlo Cecchelli, professor of Christian
archaeology at the University of Rome (and one of the many local
academics who had vividly supported Fascism in their earlier career). In
his report, Cecchelli stated that the mithraeum and the adjacent structures of
as ‘bodies’ not ‘corpses’, even retaining a personal pronoun where known (‘he’, ‘she’ not ‘it’) (Sanders 2009 : 7). The power of encounters with well-preserved ‘deep-time’ objects can thus also be ‘enchanting’ (Fredengren 2016 : 492). Indeed, Fredengren ( 2016 ) argues vociferously that the eruptive emergences of bog bodies can be part of how we become more viscerally connected to the temporality of human occupation in a place, and our intergenerational obligations to these environments – now, apparently, so central to our future survival (see Chapter 1 ). She
contacts with this super power) and one from the north (violently killed around the time of the military occupation of the north). Hutton ( 2004a , 2004b ) may be appalled at the way in which Lindow Man appears both sequestered out of public sight and forced into the trope of ritual sacrifice, easily overlooked by the visitor who spends an average of four minutes in the whole of this room (Cecilia and Wilkin 2018 ). Yet this is partly a practical necessity: the ‘canopy’ over his two-sided boxed case helps control light levels but also affords a greater sense of
evidence that with correct sampling and pretreatment, unconserved remains can yield reliable dates.
The current agreement then is that sometime during the early occupation of Roman Britain, Lindow Man himself or his remains were brought across a ‘potentially treacherous, waterlogged land surface’ (Chapman 2015 : 117). The bog pool into which he was lowered was a black pit, like the open lens of an eye: still, reflective but unblinking. It may have been a natural feature or even an old, water-filled peat cutting, but either way, it meant that he sank on to a layer of
Manchester, 2005 ). As a result, patterns in the frequency of degenerative joint diseases can be used to differentiate specific occupation patterns within a community, but each of these individuals had different conditions. Therefore it is more appropriate to explore different lifeways resulting in increased exposure to, or frequency of, trauma – that is, that some groups of people were exposed to a greater degree of risk (Samut-Tagliaferro, 1999 ; White et al., 2012 : 441; Johnson, 2008 ). Arthritis is found at different locations on the skeleton and it has a less
responsibility for rituals at island sanctuaries (Macdonald 2007 : 188). Macdonald ( 2007 : 174–82) thus situates the assemblage within wider deposits interpreted as votive offerings, which did not simply cease with Roman occupation or their pressing influence on the borders of Ireland, Scotland, Denmark and Germany.
Hints that we have missed similar sites within the English bogs come from de la Pryme’s ( 1701 : 982) letter to the Royal Society regarding Hatfield Moor, where he describes ‘old Trees, squared and cut, Rails, Stoups, Bars, and links of Chains, Horse-heads, an