A Pragmatic and Enactive Theory of Cognitive Semiotics

Shifting our perspective from the overly simplistic approach adopted by most prehistorians to a detailed take on semiosis requires a terminologically rich vocabulary that is imperative if we are to really appreciate the multidimensional dynamics of meaning. As Renfrew (Reference Renfrew1982, 14) recognized in his inaugural lecture at Cambridge, cognitive archaeology and semiotics are “destined to tread an uneasy path between the pretentiously jargon-laden and the blindingly obvious.” The cognitive semiotic theory outlined in this section should thus be expected to introduce a wide variety of terms. I posit, however, that each one of these concepts is essential in gaining a deeper understanding of meaning-making processes. Specifically, I shall be mainly drawing on the terminology introduced in Peirce’s pragmatic semiotic in order to describe the nature of signs, before outlining Malafouris’s hypothesis of enactive signification for the purpose of explaining their emergence.

With this plan in mind, let us start with Peirce’s doctrine of categories, which makes a primordial distinction between three states of meaningful being: “Firstness,” “Secondness,” and “Thirdness” (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 1.24–26). Briefly put, Firsts, Seconds, and Thirds correspond, respectively, to qualitative possibilities that exist regardless of anything else, brute facts that exist as an actual relation to something else, and predictive rules that exist in relation to this relation. Attuning these phenomenological categories to the purposes of social analysis, the contemporary semiotician Göran Sonesson proposes that we conceptualize Firsts as fleeting appearances, Seconds as manifested reactions, and Thirds as reflective observations (Sonesson Reference Sonesson2013a; see fig. 1). These phenomenological categories are fundamentally linked to one another as exemplified by the fleeting appearance of greenness (First), which is physically embodied when actualized as the reaction of chlorophyll to sun rays (Second), thus inciting and shaping the general observation according to which we can predict that green will be seen when sunlit leaves are encountered (Third).

Figure 1.

The relations between Peirce’s categories of being (adapted from Sonesson Reference Sonesson2013a, 312, fig. 1, by permission).

The triadic relations between Peirce’s categories of being form the cornerstone of his semiotic theory. As mentioned in the introduction, the Peircean sign is of a triadic nature (fig. 2), because it is composed of a “Sign” (a First), its “Object” (a Second), and its “Interpretant” (a Third). Best explained in Peirce’s own words: “A sign, or representamen, is something which stands to somebody for something in some respect or capacity. It addresses somebody, that is, creates in the mind of that person an equivalent sign, or perhaps a more developed sign. That sign which it creates I call the interpretant of the first sign. The sign stands for something, its object. It stands for that object, not in all respects, but in reference to a sort of idea, which I have sometimes called the ground of the representamen” (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 2.228, emphases in original).

Figure 2.

The triadic relations enveloped between the Sign (First), its Object (Second), and its Interpretant (Third). The Ground is the factual relation that incites and partly constitutes the emergent meaning (adapted from Preucel and Bauer Reference Preucel and Bauer2001, 90, fig. 3).

Understanding how semiotic meaning is generated requires that we delve into the inner workings of the sign. As a triadic entity, its function can be broken down into three kinds of relations: (i) the relation between the Sign and itself (First), (ii) the relation between the Sign and its Object (Second), and (iii) the relation between the Sign and its Interpretant (Third). Each one of these relations can take three distinct forms. It thus follows that the triadic sign can be accurately characterized only by taking into consideration all three kinds of triadic relations (table 1).

Table 1.

The Triad of Peirce’s Trichotomies

The “Triadic relations of comparison” (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 2.234), which pertain to the way in which a Sign relates to itself, can be distinguished in: “Qualisigns,” “Sinsigns,” and “Legisigns” (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 2.243–2.246). A Qualisign is a quality that is a Sign (First); a Sinsign is an actual thing or event that is a Sign (Second); and a Legisign is a general rule that is a Sign (Third). Next is the most popular of the three triptychs.

The “Triadic relations of performance” (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 2.234), which concern the way in which a Sign relates to its Object, can be categorized as “Icons,” “Indices,” and “Symbols” (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 2.243, 2.247–49). An Icon is a Sign that is connected with its Object via means of similarity (First); an Index is a Sign that is physically connected with its Object (Second) and is therefore—according to Sonesson (Reference Sonesson1989a, Reference Sonesson1989b)—topologically characterized by contiguity or factorality (i.e., part/whole relationship); and a Symbol is a Sign that is conventionally connected with its Object (Third). As noted by Sonesson (Reference Sonesson2006, 172), there is nothing in the Sign and its Object that explains the sign relation that produced a principle of relevance between them. Given that a symbol is by definition entirely arbitrary, it would be wrong to use this term to indiscriminately describe all material signs, as tends to be the case in the debate on human origins (Iliopoulos Reference Iliopoulos2016). Having made this clarification, let us turn to the third and final triptych.

The “Triadic relations of thought” (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 2.234), which characterize the way in which an Interpretant relates to the Sign-Object relation, can be distinguished in: “Rhemes,” “Dicent Signs” or “Dicisigns,” and “Arguments” (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 2.243, 2.250–52). A Rheme is a Sign of qualitative possibility for its Interpretant, and as such it is neither true nor false (First); a Dicisign is a Sign of actual existence for its Interpretant (Second); and an Argument is a Sign of law for its Interpretant (Third).

The three triptychs briefly considered coalesce in forming a typology of signs that provides the backbone of the outlined framework. While the triad of trichotomies can yield a total of twenty-seven possible sign combinations, not all of them are underpinned by logic. The level of the Sign’s relation to itself must be at least as high as the level of the Sign-Object relation, which in turn must be at least as high as the level of the Sign-Interpretant relation. These restrictions stem from an underlying hierarchical principle: only a possibility (i.e., a First) can determine a First; only an actuality (i.e., a Second) can determine a Second and involve a First; and only a law (i.e., a Third) can determine a Third and involve a Second and a First. As a result, only ten sign combinations can occur (table 2). These ten levels of signification are hierarchically structured with higher levels embodying lower levels (fig. 3). This means that the interpretation of higher-order signs entails the implicit interpretation of lower-order signs.

Table 2.

The Ten Sign Categories in Peircean Semiotics

Source. Adapted from Watts Reference Watts, Knappett and Malafouris2008, 198, table 10.2.

Note. It needs to be clarified that the parenthesized elements are specificational redundancies and were thus not included in Peirce’s original account. In this article, however, all three elements are used for the purpose of clarity.

Figure 3.

In this lattice, the ten classes of signs are hierarchically structured, with higher-order signs embodying lower-order signs. The black arrows point toward the embodied lower-order signs that provide the foundations for higher-order signs. The other two types of arrows are special in that they point toward special cases of lower-order signs: the green arrows point toward “peculiar” Sinsigns that are real-world instantiations (i.e., Replicas) governed by general rules (i.e., Legisigns) (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 2.246); and the orange arrows point to “peculiar” Icons that do not just resemble their Object but are actually modified by it (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and Burks CP 2.248).

It should be reasonable to assume that during the course of human evolution, significative artefacts would have first functioned in the lower-order iconic and indexical levels before ascending to, and becoming parts of, higher-order symbolic levels. This should not be taken as a deterministic proposition according to which ascending through these levels would have taken place in a linear and step-like manner, because signs fall under different kinds, rather than degrees, of complication (Sonesson Reference Sonesson, Sachs-Hombach and Schirra2013b, Reference Sonesson, Dunér, Parthemore, Persson and Holmberg2013c). Nonetheless, the relations of embodiment in Peirce’s tenfold typology should give us a broad idea of how rituals, which can be viewed as a cultural syllogisms (Argumentative Symbolic Legisigns—level 10), could have been founded on artefactual sign-vehicles with physical relations and qualities (Dicentic Indexical Sinsigns and Rhematic Iconic Sinsigns—levels 4 and 2, respectively). While the links between these significative sorts are best considered to have been bidirectional (in that artefacts support rituals and rituals dictate the form and use of artefacts), it should be reasonable to maintain that the similarity and contiguity/factorality between things would have been perceived and conceived as significative before the development of purely arbitrary concepts and cultural practices. If this is the case, then the development of iconic and indexical signs would have scaffolded the formation of symbolic narratives. Of course, such an evolutionary process would not have necessarily followed a gradual rate along a particular lineage of people, as change would have depended on chance, spontaneity, and creativity taking place in different spatiotemporal trajectories, thus unavoidably entailing instances of punctuated equilibrium.

In order to appreciate the cognitive mechanism behind our semiotic evolution, we must now turn to the hypothesis of enactive signification, and cognitive projections in particular. As explained by Malafouris (Reference Malafouris2013, chap. 5), cognitive projections are direct implicit ontological correspondences between experiential domains. Such conceptual mappings can be of two sorts—namely, metaphorical projections and integrative projections. The former are projected by a familiar to an unfamiliar phenomenal domain for the sake of explication (e.g., container schema), whereas the latter are projected partial structures by two preexisting phenomenal domains with ontological correspondences into a new third space, known as the “blend” (Fauconnier Reference Fauconnier1997; Fauconnier and Turner Reference Fauconnier and Turner2002). While conceptual blending is generally considered to be an internal phenomenon, the external world can actually be incorporated into such a cognitive process. According to the cognitive scientist Edwin Hutchins (Reference Hutchins2005), material structures—or better yet, “material anchors”—can be directly projected in a conceptual blend, thus grounding the conceptual on the material. The queue is a characteristic case of a materially anchored conceptual blend, for it is yielded through the blending of a linear physical structure made of human bodies and an imagined directional trajectory (Hutchins Reference Hutchins2005, 1559).

In the same vein, past material objects could have anchored prehistoric processes of conceptual blending, since their nondiscursive properties would have conferred the stability and durability required for meaningful engagement. According to the theory of material engagement, the direct spatiotemporal manipulation of material objects would have eventually enabled the formation of otherwise elusive concepts (Malafouris Reference Malafouris2013). From a semiotic point of view, humans would have been able to form significative concepts by perceiving the iconic and/or indexical ground (i.e., relevance) established between things, for it has been noted by Sonesson (Reference Sonesson2006) that the sign is based on a mapping between different spaces. In other words, our ancestors would have been able to conceive objects as “external” representations of concepts after attending to their similarity, contiguity, and/or factorality to other things. In doing so, they would have transitioned from the perception of semiotic grounds to the conception of sign function (table 3).

Table 3.

The Relationship between Principles, Grounds, and Signs

Source. After Sonesson (Reference Sonesson, Schilhab, Stjernfelt and Deacon2012, 85, fig. 5.2; used by permission).

This then raises the question: What criteria does a sign need to fulfill in order to be defined as such? To distinguish significative meaning from other types of meaning (e.g., perceptual), Sonesson (Reference Sonesson2006, Reference Sonesson, Ziemke, Zlatev and Frank2007, Reference Sonesson2010, Reference Sonesson, Schilhab, Stjernfelt and Deacon2012) delineated some useful criteria. For one, the sign must be composed of two parts—“Expression” (i.e., the Representamen or Sign) and “Content” (i.e., the immediate Object and, by implication, its Interpretant)—which are doubly differentiated, in that they must not go over into each other in time and/or space, and they must be perceived to be of different nature. For instance, an animal footprint (Expression) and the animal (Content) are doubly differentiated in that while the footprint is here and now, the animal is spatiotemporally extended; and while the mark is an inanimate physical impression on the ground, the animal is a concept of a living organism. According to another criterion for recognizing a sign, the Expression and Content of a sign must be in a double asymmetrical relation with each other, in that the Expression must be more directly perceived than the Content (i.e., the former needs to stand for the latter, and not the reverse), and that the Content must be more in focus, as it is more important than the Expression. For example, it is the photograph (Expression) that stands for a depicted person (Content), but it is the person that is more in focus than the photograph itself. In this case, the two things are subjectively differentiated, in that the photograph is directly given and nonthematic, whereas the person depicted is only indirectly present and thematic.

Such iconic signs can be readily perceived without resorting to prior familiarity with a particular convention. In these “primary” icons, the perception of similarity between two things is at least partly the reason for taking one of them to stand for the other (Sonesson Reference Sonesson2010, Reference Sonesson, Sachs-Hombach and Schirra2013b, Reference Sonesson, Dunér, Parthemore, Persson and Holmberg2013c). This is clearly the case with pictures, given that gleaning their significative function is relatively straightforward. On the other hand, some iconic signs require cultural knowledge in order to be appropriately interpreted, because the iconic relevance cannot be directly perceived. In the case of “secondary” icons, knowing that one thing stands for another in some particular system of interpretation is at least a partial reason for perceiving their similarity (Sonesson Reference Sonesson2010, Reference Sonesson, Sachs-Hombach and Schirra2013b, Reference Sonesson, Dunér, Parthemore, Persson and Holmberg2013c). A car at a car exhibition is a characteristic example of such iconic signs, since prior knowledge of its significative function in the context of the exhibition is required in order to appreciate its similarity with the cars sold by the manufacturer. As can be seen through this modern-day scenario, secondary icons are objects that are normally used for what they are, and which become significative—of themselves, of some of their properties, or of the class of which they form part—in particular situations and according to specific conventions (Sonesson Reference Sonesson2010, 40; Reference Sonesson, Dunér, Parthemore, Persson and Holmberg2013c, 195). Their clear differences with primary iconic signs suggest that while some prehistoric artefacts could have iconically stood for another thing based on evident similarity, other icons would have been guided by particular conventions.

According to Sonesson (Reference Sonesson1989a, Reference Sonesson1989b), a crucial difference also exists between two types of indices. In some indexical signs, the ground of contiguity or factorality between two things preexists to the sign formation, and the sign thus comes to describe states of affairs. These “abductive” indices generally necessitate prior cultural knowledge in order to be properly interpreted. A fingerprint is a typical example of an abductive index because the indexical ground linking the fingerprint and the perpetrator preexists to the formation of the sign. In other indices, however, the contiguity or factorality between two things is created at the moment the sign is given, and the sign thus comes to create states of affairs. These “performative” indices do not require much cultural knowledge, since the creation of meaning is spontaneous. Such is the case of the pointing finger, since the ground between the finger and what it points to is created at the moment the sign is given. It is important to recognize here that the performative function of some material signs can actually be combined with an abductive use. For instance, a store’s signpost can both describe and designate the shop. Given that the two types of indexical signification are not mutually exclusive, it would be fair to say that our predecessors would have come to comprehend that a significative thing can indexically both describe and create another thing.

By habituating the workings of icons and indices, early humans would have formed their first beliefs about material signs. According to Peirce (Reference Peirce, Hartshorne, Weiss and BurksCP 5.480), “habits” are motivated dispositions to act in a certain way under certain circumstances and are to be considered as “beliefs” when they are deliberate or self-controlled. Therefore, in deliberately manipulating material signs, individuals would have exercised their significative beliefs about them. The physical aspect of these signs would have allowed others to observe and assimilate their habitualized dispositions toward things taken to share certain qualities or attributes. According to the archaeologist John Barrett (Reference Barrett2013), the anatomical development of hominins would have conferred them with the capacity for joint attention, which is imperative in sustaining the shared empathy required for the propagation of signs across early communities. While achieving the degree of standardization required for customary interpretation, iconic and indexical signs would have provided the significative foundations required for the development of simple symbolic propositions and, eventually, narratives. On this note, I shall now turn to the case of early body ornamentation, in order to illustrate how cultural forms of symbolism would have been developed through the semiotic scaffolding provided by lower-order iconic and indexical signs, themselves conceptualized through perception and material engagement.

The Evolution of Ornamental Signification and Symbolic Narratives

Let us start our evolutionary narrative by looking at the evidence from Blombos Cave, for the purpose of gauging whether the shell beads could have been utilized as body ornaments and, by extent, as material signs about 75 kya. The collection of the required shells would have required both time and effort, given that today the closest Nassarius kraussianus estuaries can be found at the Duiwenhoks and Goukou, located 20 kilometers west and east of Blombos Cave, respectively (there is no evidence for closer paleo-estuaries) (d’Errico et al. Reference d’Errico, Henshilwood, Vanhaeren and van Niekerk2005, 10). The collection of the tick shells would not have been primarily warranted by the consumption of their soft tissue, as they only produce 0.814 grams of meat per 100 specimens (d’Errico et al. Reference d’Errico, Henshilwood, Vanhaeren and van Niekerk2005, 10). They hence seem to have been collected solely for the production of beads whose manufacture would not have been a trivial task, as specialized skills would have been required. For one, in the event that the perforations of the shells had been anthropogenic rather than natural, Middle Stone Age humans would have had to perforate the interior wall of the body whorl with a pointed tool, perhaps made of bone (d’Errico et al. Reference d’Errico, Henshilwood, Vanhaeren and van Niekerk2005, 15). Experimental perforations attest to the fact that careful and controlled actions would have been required for this practice (d’Errico et al. Reference d’Errico, Henshilwood, Vanhaeren and van Niekerk2005, 18). Stringing the beads would have also been an elaborate affair, whose form evidently changed over time (Vanhaeren et al. Reference Vanhaeren, d’Errico, van Niekerk, Henshilwood and Erasmus2013). The vast majority of these beads demonstrate use-wear typical of regular contact with an acidic aqueous solution (Vanhaeren et al. Reference Vanhaeren, d’Errico, van Niekerk, Henshilwood and Erasmus2013, 512). According to the reporting archaeologists, this acidity can be attributed to several sources, such as human sweat, daily manipulation of acidic liquids, or some kind of special treatment of the beadwork (ibid.). Regardless of what factor(s) caused the evident use-wear, their deposition in clusters suggests that they formed beadworks lost or discarded during single events (Vanhaeren et al. Reference Vanhaeren, d’Errico, van Niekerk, Henshilwood and Erasmus2013, 513). This practice was not short-lived; the fact that Nassarius kraussianus shell beads have been recovered from four stratigraphic levels suggests that their use may have spanned a period of hundreds, if not thousands, of years (Vanhaeren et al. Reference Vanhaeren, d’Errico, van Niekerk, Henshilwood and Erasmus2013, 514). Since this skill- and time-demanding practice appears to have been transmitted over generations, it would have likely held a special place in the cultural system of the Blombos inhabitants. While ethnographic data suggest that their use as abaci is a possibility, bead-dependent numeration systems have only been used by materially complex cultures, whereas ornamental beads are characteristic of materially simpler cultures as well (Overmann Reference Overmann2013, 21). I thus posit that when the earliest beadworks took on an ornamental role, they came to mediate significative meaning by standing for something else in some respect or capacity. Although we may be prevented from making a definitive claim about what that would have been because we have no direct access to past minds, it is difficult to see why and how the laborious activities of shell collection and bead manufacture would have been maintained over multiple occupation episodes had a significative understanding of the discovered artefacts not been communally shared.

This then raises an interesting question: as far as we can tell from the archaeological record, why does this significative function appear to be exclusively fulfilled by Nassarius kraussianus shells? The enormous biodiversity of South African waters and the fact that several species of shellfish had been consumed by the Blombos inhabitants during the Middle Stone Age (Henshilwood et al. Reference Henshilwood, Sealy, Yates, Cruz-Uribe, Goldberg, Grine, Klein, Poggenpoel, van Niekerk and Watts2001) suggest that they would have had an array of other options for manufacturing ornaments. Among the vast number of options available, Nassarius shells appear to have been chosen due to their small size, rounded shape, and smooth texture (Bar-Yosef Mayer Reference Bar-Yosef Mayer2015, 82). Even before their conceptualization as material signs, these shells afforded—in Gibson’s (Reference Gibson1979) ecological sense of the term—the manufacture of beads and beadworks. Yet the archaeological evidence does not suggest that the Blombos inhabitants came to understand the suitability of Nassarius kraussianus shells for the manufacture of beadworks through experimentation on other types of shells. The dense shell midden that has been found in an earlier stratigraphic layer at Blombos (d’Errico et al. Reference d’Errico, Henshilwood, Vanhaeren and van Niekerk2005, 7) has not yielded any other types of perforated shells. For instance, two 100,000-year-old Haliotis midae shells discovered in the same layer as the midden had been used as pigment containers (Henshilwood et al. Reference Henshilwood, d’Errico, van Niekerk, Coquinot and Jacobs2011). It seems that their flattened-bowl shape afforded their use as containers rather than ornaments. I am thus led to propose that the Blombos inhabitants might have deliberately chosen the kraussianus species due to prior experience with significative beadworks that had been made of perishable materials.

The ethnographic literature abounds with examples of ornamental beads manufactured from materials that are largely undetectable in the Middle Stone Age archaeological record, such as insect body parts, and plant materials such as small tubers, rolled-up fragrant leaves, seeds, seed pods, nuts, fruits, and wood (Ruddle Reference Ruddle1973; Mehra et al. Reference Mehra, Kanodia and Srivastava1975; Francis Reference Francis1984; Carey Reference Carey1986; Dubin Reference Dubin1987, Reference Dubin2009; Simak and Dreibelbis Reference Simak and Dreibelbis2010). Granted that such raw materials would have been more directly available than Nassarius kraussianus shells, the earliest ornamental beads were in all likelihood made out of perishable materials. These beads were probably predated by even simpler forms of ornamentation, which have been ethnographically observed to include furs, skins, and feathers (Mayr Reference Mayr1907; Turner Reference Turner, Cherfas and Lewin1980; Carey Reference Carey1986). As has been recognized by the archaeologist Robert Bednarik (Reference Bednarik2008, 292), “if the earliest-found representatives of a class of material evidence are among the most deterioration-resistant types of that class, then the probability of significantly older, less resistant types is very high indeed.” Given though that these types of ornamentation do not survive in the archaeological record, if we are to appreciate how the significative function of ornaments could have been grasped before humans resorted to shell beads, we are bound to turn to the only preservable form of ornamentation that predates them—ochre.

“Ochre” is a generic term used by archaeologists to denote any rock, earth, or mineral that produces a reddish or yellowish streak when abraded (Watts Reference Watts, Botha and Knight2009, 63). It is generally accepted that powdered ochre was used for the purpose of body decoration (Watts Reference Watts2002, Reference Watts, Botha and Knight2009; Marean et al. Reference Marean, Bar-Matthews, Bernatchez, Fisher, Goldberg, Herries, Jacobs, Jerardino, Karkanas, Minichillo, Nilssen, Thompson, Watts and Williams2007). For some archaeologists, red (as well as black) pigments were part of symbolic color systems that were dictated by the neuro-optical infrastructure of humans (Hovers et al. Reference Hovers, Ilani, Bar-Yosef and Vandermeersch2003). Others see red ochre body painting as an adaptive attempt of female coalitions to mask menstruation and therefore prevent males from picking and choosing between them based on that regard (Knight et al. Reference Knight, Power and Watts1995; Power Reference Power, Botha and Knight2009). Both of these views, however, are incompatible with the approach adopted in this article. The former is a nativist account, according to which the creation of perceptually founded semantic categories is determined by universal features hardwired in the brain. While the constraints dictated by the human nervous system may form part of the story, this perspective fails to acknowledge the pragmatic constraints imposed by human uses (Deacon Reference Deacon1997, 119). On the other hand, the latter is a neo-Darwinian approach that explains the emergence of ochre-using symbolism on the basis of sexual selection alone. In doing so, it reduces the evolutionary process to purely biological terms and thus disregards the deeply constitutive entwinement of biological and cultural evolution (Ingold Reference Ingold, Ingold and Palsson2013). For these reasons, the origins of ochre-based decoration need to be further explored from the vantage point of Peirce’s semiotic theory and Malafouris’s theory of material engagement.

While powdered ochre first appears at Blombos Cave at around 100 kya (Henshilwood et al. Reference Henshilwood, d’Errico, van Niekerk, Coquinot and Jacobs2011), two other sites—namely, Pinnacle Point and Border Cave—place its regular use in South Africa to approximately 170–150 kya (Marean et al. Reference Marean, Bar-Matthews, Bernatchez, Fisher, Goldberg, Herries, Jacobs, Jerardino, Karkanas, Minichillo, Nilssen, Thompson, Watts and Williams2007; Watts Reference Watts, Botha and Knight2009). According to Ian Watts (Reference Watts, Botha and Knight2009, 80), who is the ochre specialist at Blombos Cave, red ochre use in southern Africa seems to have become established with the spread of Homo sapiens. And, while powdered ochre has been mainly associated with decoration, we must acknowledge that some archaeologists have suggested that it could have been also used for “practical” tasks, such as tanning and preserving hides, conferring medicinal qualities, and manufacturing ochre-based adhesives used in the hafting of tools (Velo Reference Velo1984; Wadley et al. Reference Wadley, Williamson and Lombard2004; Wadley Reference Wadley2005; Lombard Reference Lombard2007; Wadley et al. Reference Wadley, Hodgskiss and Grant2009). Given that pigments could have been used for such nondecorative purposes, it is possible that Middle Stone Age humans had been engaging with ochre before body decoration was even realized.

While utilizing ochre for subsistence-settlement purposes, they would have had the opportunity to smear pigment on their bodies for no apparent reason, perhaps even by accident at first, in turn inciting others to imitate this behavior, despite the fact that it lacked functionality. Even our closest primate relatives, the chimpanzees, are capable of performing such seemingly nonadaptive behavior. According to the primatologist Edwin van Leeuwen and his colleagues (Reference van Leeuwen, Cronin and Haun2014), an adult female chimpanzee was observed selecting a stiff, straw-like blade of grass, placing it in her ear, adjusting its position, and leaving it there during subsequent activities. Most of her group members imitated this behavior upon encountering another chimpanzee that was already engaging in it; and in fact two of these individuals were observed engaging in this behavior even after the inventor had died. The authors were therefore led to conclude that nonadaptive behavior is also prone to imitation by chimpanzees. Along parallel lines, it seems likely that Middle Stone Age humans could have observed and imitated the behavior of a pigmented inventor for a prolonged period of time.Footnote ³ As has been noted by Gosden (Reference Gosden, Renfrew, Gosden and DeMarrais2004, 44): “Presencing of objects through display makes people conscious of, and thoughtful about, the objects on display and extra sensitive to their special qualities.” Consistently applying ochre pigment on their bodies would have therefore enabled humans to contemplate its qualities and relations, and thus form new significative concepts.

For one, ochre pieces could have provided the basis for the emergence of iconic concepts such as “value,” had they been difficult to procure. From a cognitive point of view, the ochre pigment would have come to provide the material anchor for the automatic and transparent cognitive projections that blended the mental and the material domains until establishing the ochre pigment as a sign for “value” (fig. 4). This new material sign would have been a sign in the strict sense of the term as it would have satisfied Sonesson’s criteria. For one, it would have been composed of two distinct parts (the ochre pigment is the Expression, and its “value” is the Content), which would not overlap in time and/or space (while the ochre pigment is in the here and now, its “value” is spatiotemporally extended) and would be perceived to be of different nature (the ochre pigment is material, whereas the “value” is mental). Moreover, these two entities of the material sign would have been in a doubly asymmetrical relation (despite the fact that it is the ochre pigment that comes to one’s immediate attention, it is its “value” that is the focal point). At this point, ochre pigments and “value” would have been subjectively differentiated, in that the former would have been directly given and nonthematic, whereas the latter would have only been indirectly present and thematic.

Figure 4.

The iconic material sign for “value” as a conceptual blend with ochre pigment as a material anchor.

From a semiotic perspective, ochre pigments would have become iconic signs for some kind of “value,” because matter and mind would have shared a certain quality of rarity/exclusivity that is intrinsic not just to the concept itself but to the objects as well. As Renfrew (Reference Renfrew and Hodder2001, 133) pointed out, value is “intrinsic” to prestige materials because “the material becomes the ‘valuable’ only when it is noticed.” But such materials are not iconic in the sense of pictures; they are instead closer to the notion of secondary iconicity, because their interpretation would have depended on being familiar with the conventional idea that their rarity makes them valuable for a group of people. As noted by Renfrew (Reference Renfrew and Hodder2001, 134): “The concept of ‘value’ generally implies some measure of ‘agreed value’ as determined between individuals: it is a social concept.” In terms of Peirce’s tenfold typology, a social concept such as “value” would have been signified by rare ochre pigments through a denotative iconic rule (i.e., a Rhematic Iconic Legisign—level 5) whose meaning would have been: “Such ochre pigments signify their ‘value.’” This habit of interpretation would have been hereafter used to guide the interpretation of future instantiations or Replicas of ochre pigments (i.e., Rhematic Iconic Sinsigns—level 2), essentially allowing for the deliberate creation of “value” by way of decoration (Munn Reference Munn1986).

The iconic concept of “value” would have in turn provided the basis for the emergence of the concept of “wealth” through the indexical grounds established by the act of wearing valuable ochre pigments.Footnote ⁴ The perception of contiguity between ochre pigments and wearers would have enabled the transfer of qualities from ornaments to humans. This is, for instance, the case with self-decoration in Mount Hagen, Papua New Guinea, where men adorn themselves with parts taken from birds of prey and trees in order to become “as powerful as the things they wear” (Strathern and Strathern Reference Strathern and Strathern1971, 138). Since the indexical grounds between the prestige materials and the individual are spontaneously established upon the act of wearing, the ochre pigments would have performatively imbued their wearers with “value.” In turn, the decorations would have begun to signify the wearer’s “value” via abductive means to others around her/him. Seen this way, the accumulation and demonstration of valuable property through ornamentation would have ultimately led to the conceptualization of “wealth.”

This novel concept (relating in this instance to ochre acquisition) would have emerged through a perceptual association between pigmented individuals and their control over valuable ochre resources. From a cognitive perspective, wearing valuable ochre pigment would have enabled a process of conceptual blending that established the ochre pigment as a sign for its wearer’s “wealth” (fig. 5). This newly emergent material sign would have satisfied the criteria for proper sign function. For one, it would have been composed of two distinct parts (the ochre pigment is the Expression and the wearer’s “wealth” is the Content), which would not go over into each other in time and/or space (while the ochre pigment is in the here and now, the wearer’s “wealth” is spatiotemporally extended), and would be perceived to be of different nature (the ochre pigment is material, whereas the wearer’s “wealth” is mental). Moreover, the material and mental entities comprising this novel sign for “wealth” would have been in a doubly asymmetrical relation (despite the fact that it is the ochre pigment that comes to one’s immediate attention, it is the wearer’s “wealth” that is at the center of attention). At this point, ochre pigments and “wealth” would have been subjectively differentiated, since the former would have been directly given and non-thematic, while the latter would have only been indirectly present and thematic.

Figure 5.

The indexical material sign for “wealth” as a conceptual blend with ochre pigment as a material anchor.

From a semiotic point of view, ochre pigments would have become performative indices because they would have conferred “wealth” on their wearer. Yet they would have also been abductive indices since they would have referenced the wearer’s “wealth” to others. In terms of Peirce’s tenfold typology, a denotative iconic rule according to which ochre pigments are signs of “wealth” (i.e., a Rhematic Iconic Legisign—level 5) would have been combined with a denotative indexical rule that indicates the wearer whose “wealth” is of concern (i.e., a Rhematic Indexical Legisign—level 6), in order to form an informative indexical rule (i.e., a Dicentic Indexical Legisign—level 7) whose meaning would have been: “Such ochre pigments signify their wearer’s ‘wealth.’” This convention would have been henceforth used to guide the interpretation of subsequent instantiations of pigmented individuals (i.e., Dicentic Indexical Sinsigns—level 4).

Along similar lines, an x number of other concepts pertaining to the wearers could have emerged through habitualization, which would have provided the semiotic scaffolding required for the evolution of symbolic signification. Their cohabitation in the same sign-vehicle would have eventually brought forth general concepts such as “status,” for properties not implicated in any of the original domains can also emerge in a blended space (fig. 6). The ochre pigment would have thus been seen as a novel material sign in the strict sense of the term, given that it would have fulfilled the criteria already set above. For one, it would have been composed of two distinctive parts (the ochre pigment is the Expression, and the wearer’s “status” is the Content), which would not overlap in time and/or space (while the ochre pigment is in the here and now, the wearer’s “status” is spatiotemporally extended) and would be taken to be of different nature (the ochre pigment is material, whereas the wearer’s “status” is mental). Moreover, the two general entities comprising the material sign for “status” would have been in a doubly asymmetrical relation (despite the fact that it is the ochre pigment that comes to one’s immediate attention, it is the wearer’s “status” that is of importance). At this point, ochre pigments and “status” would have been subjectively differentiated, given that the former would have been directly given and nonthematic, when the latter would have only been indirectly present and thematic.

Figure 6.

The symbolic material sign for “status” as a conceptual blend with ochre pigment as a material anchor.

From a semiotic viewpoint, the interpretation of ochre pigments as signs for “status” would have come to be guided by a denotative symbolic rule (i.e., a Rhematic Symbolic Legisign—level 8), due to the purely arbitrary nature of the law linking matter and mind. When the pigments would have been applied on the body, this denotative symbolic rule would have been associated with a denotative indexical rule (i.e., a Rhematic Indexical Legisign—level 6) that indicated the persons whose “status” is of concern, either by conferring it on them or by referencing it to others. The meaning of the resulting informative symbolic rule (i.e., the Dicentic Symbolic Legisign—level 9) would have therefore been: “Such ochre pigments signify their wearer’s ‘status.’” Such a symbolic proposition would have in turn premised the development of symbolic syllogisms (i.e., Argumentative Symbolic Legisigns—level 10), such as rituals. According to Deacon (Reference Deacon1997, 402), repetition of the same set of actions with the same set of objects over and over again in a ritual performance enables the transition from explicit and concrete Sign-Object associations to implicit Sign-Sign associations. In this light, the repetitive sets of actions involving ornamental signs would have eventually culminated in the topmost level of signification with the formation of cultural narratives.

In order to be maintained, these shared syllogisms would have required long-term stability, which would have been better conferred by durable materials such as shells. Thus, the concept of “status” could have been affixed onto standardizable shell bead ornaments. Due to the purely arbitrary nature of symbolism, however, it is impossible to determine whether specimens, such as the Blombos beads, were in fact symbolic. That said, the stability conferred by durable and standardized shell beads would have certainly contributed to the eventual flourishing of symbolic narratives—if not at Blombos, elsewhere. The plethora of bead types recovered from numerous European Aurignacian sites (Vanhaeren and d’Errico Reference Vanhaeren and d’Errico2006) would have provided ample opportunities for the creation of various rituals. That ornament-based symbolic practices ultimately became very elaborate is clearly evident from the ethnographic record, for ornamental assemblages such as regalia are central to a wide variety of rituals (Steiner Reference Steiner1990; Drewal and Mason Reference Drewal and Mason1997; Carey Reference Carey, Sciama and Eicher1998; O’Hear Reference O’Hear, Sciama and Eicher1998; Ebeigbe Reference Ebeigbe2004). Their essential role in symbolic cosmotheories has been characteristically identified by ornamentation expert Lois Sherr Dubin (Reference Dubin, Simak and Dreibelbis2010, 16), who wrote: “Regalia, the major form of visual artistic expression among all African societies, is a complex assemblage of body decoration, clothing, masks and ornaments that comes alive through ritual and dance. All the elements form an elaborate system of correspondences that gives order to what is significant in each group’s world.”