PERSPECTIVES ON MAYA VIOLENCE AND WARFARE: CHALLENGES AND OPPORTUNITIES

For the purposes of this article, we adopt a definition of warfare similar to Vencl's (Reference Vencl1984:121), conceptualizing warfare as intercommunity armed violence. While we acknowledge the importance of intra-community violence, we believe this definition offers a productive starting point because it is inclusive of a variety of behaviors, practices, and participants, irrespective of motivations, agendas, or objectives (see Graham [Reference Graham, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019] for a comprehensive discussion of definitions for conflict and war). This inclusivity is necessary in order for researchers to recognize the cultural variability inherent in activities related to warfare, precipitating motivations and meanings. Similarly, we see violence as taking a variety of possible forms, not all of which are readily discernible in the material record. Anthropologists have noted varieties of violence, such as structural, symbolic, cultural, latent, psychological, and others, which do not always result in direct and readily apparent bodily injury (see Kim and Kissel Reference Kim and Kissel2018). Adopting this view of violence has implications for the interrogation of the archaeological record. Specifically, in agreement with other scholars (Kim and Kissel Reference Kim and Kissel2018:29–30), we see violence as not simply a dyadic relationship between aggressor and victim, but rather as an occurrence within a social web that allows for the participation of a range of potential actors and participants, all in different roles.

Most of the available archaeological, epigraphic, and iconographic evidence regarding Maya violence and warfare dates to the Late Classic period (ca. a.d. 600–1000), centering most discussion within that era (Ek Reference Ek2020; Iannone et al. Reference Iannone, Houk and Schwake2016; Inomata and Triadan Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009; O'Mansky and Demarest Reference O'Mansky, Demarest, Chacon and Mendoza2007; Tiesler and Cucina Reference Tiesler, Cucina, Martin, Harrod and Perez2012; Webster Reference Webster2000). As noted by Webster (Reference Webster2000:81–82), in the mid-twentieth century, many scholars believed the Classic Maya were inordinately peaceful. In ensuing decades, studies of art and inscriptions indicated the prevalence and significance of rituals related to warfare. Interpretations of epigraphic and iconographic data characterized warfare as ritualized battle, as indicated by numerous stelae depicting bound war captives and battles featuring capture of enemies for sacrifice (Schele and Miller Reference Schele and Miller1986; see also Earley Reference Earley2023). Owing to the nature of such depictions, researchers viewed warfare as limited in scope, highly ritualized, and predominantly tied to (typically male) elites, such as rulers and other higher-status individuals of a warrior class. Moreover, many of the scenes depicted in murals and ceramic paintings emphasize the individuality of warrior costumes and fighting tactics rather than coordinated formations (Inomata and Triadan Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009:65; Tate Reference Tate1992). This characterization contributed to the notion that organized violence among the Maya at this time was relatively inconsequential for non-elites, as compared to other civilizations.

A parallel means of downplaying the effects of warfare can be seen in larger academic discourses about “real” versus “ritualistic” forms of martial practice, especially within archaeological studies (Keeley Reference Keeley1996). Many scholars have tended to contrast “real” war, viewed as Western and pragmatic, versus “ritual” warfare, which is seen as idealistic and relatively insignificant in political and economic terms (Hernandez and Palka Reference Hernandez, Palka and Benfer2017:76). Writing two decades ago, Webster (Reference Webster2000) called for more attention to be placed on issues such as motivations for war, ritual versus territorial aims, and sociopolitical and economic effects. Implicit in Webster's call is the mindset that warfare can involve a multitude of motivations, aims, and objectives, ranging from ideological belief systems to sociopolitical or economic gain. For us, there is no reason to discriminate between “ritual” and “real” warfare. In agreement with Webster, we see it is a spurious dichotomy.

Instead, issues of constraint and ritual should be analyzed with a deeper interrogation of how past Maya peoples made war. Could it be that ritual, restraint, norms, and formal rules generally varied according to tactics and the combatants involved (e.g., Arkush and Stanish Reference Arkush and Stanish2005; Solometo Reference Solometo, Arkush and Allen2006)? For the Postclassic period of Mesoamerica, Aztec flowery wars were highly restrained contests designed, in part, to perpetuate the movement and rhythms of cosmic forces via the offering of blood. Hassig (Reference Hassig1992), however, highlights that despite the strong ritual component and emphasis on elite prowess, flowery wars allowed rival polities to test opponents without risking a large-scale martial disaster or local autonomy. Santley and colleagues (Reference Santley, Berman, Alexander, Scarborough, Wilcox, Scarborough and Wilcox1991) have also argued that certain iterations of the Mesoamerican ballgame can be understood as ritual warfare. Rather than conceptualizing these forms of violence as “ritual,” they should be considered instead as extensions of other kinds of organized violence, such as raiding and open battle, with which they are mutually dependent and together define the scope of active war within a society.

The issue of ritual combat highlights questions about who participates or is affected by war. As revealed in the 1940s, the Bonampak murals have long suggested elite warriors participated in combat and raiding activities, often to take high-status captives from neighboring societies to be sacrificed (Brown Reference Brown, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019; see also Earley Reference Earley2023; Miller and Brittenham Reference Miller and Brittenham2013). Recent bioarchaeological studies of skeletal remains have reinforced these arguments, with trauma on bones indicating high-status individuals participated in violence (Tiesler and Cucina Reference Tiesler, Cucina, Martin, Harrod and Perez2012:174). Raiding activities are arguably part of a collection of warfare-related practices (see Hernandez and Bracken, this section, Hernandez [Reference Hernandez2019], and Helmke [Reference Helmke2020] for discussions of raiding). Regardless of motivations, whenever formally organized violence occurred, was anticipated, re-enacted, or re-imagined, it likely involved and affected a variety of community members and had very “real” consequences. The raiding of settlements to take captives is just as devastating and consequential as raiding to destroy property or take control over resources. Seen in this light, warfare during the Classic period was likely to have been impactful for both elites and non-elites. Elite participation in ritualistic forms of raiding, captive-taking, and sacrifice neither preclude the participation of, nor effects upon, non-elites.

A major methodological hurdle facing Mayanists regards the degree of non-elite participation in war, as “stone monuments deal only with elite acts” (Inomata and Triadan Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009:65). Non-elite lifeways are difficult to access through traditional sources such as interpretations of artwork or architectural reconnaissance (Baron Reference Baron2016; Brumfiel Reference Brumfiel, Brumfiel and Fox1994; Johnston Reference Johnston2004; Robin Reference Robin2013). Much work remains to be done to elucidate non-elite lifeways, despite advances in recent decades (Sabloff Reference Sabloff2019). As many researchers have noted (Lohse and Valdez Reference Lohse and Valdez2004; Marcus Reference Marcus, Lohse and Valdez2004; McAnany Reference McAnany2013; Robin Reference Robin2001), there has been a growing realization that commoner life varied from one Maya settlement to the next. The issue of detecting evidence for non-elite lifeways is compounded by the aforementioned traditional perspectives that downplayed warfare as ritualistic. Consistent with calls for more attention to be placed on commoner lifeways (Marcus Reference Marcus, Lohse and Valdez2004:255), we advocate for analogous, bottom-up approaches to appreciate the import of violence and war for non-elite populations.

Practices related to warfare or concerns over it may leave very little detectable material traces (Webster Reference Webster, Feinman and Marcus1998). O'Mansky and Demarest (Reference O'Mansky, Demarest, Chacon and Mendoza2007:17) note that “the problems of preservation have certainly erased many traces of battles, while smaller-scale engagements may leave no record at all.” Webster (Reference Webster, Feinman and Marcus1998:346) argues that various phases of warfare practices occurred and all are not equally visible to archaeologists. If violence and warfare writ large are already challenging to methodologically identify, such behaviors as they relate to non-elites are especially difficult to detect without a paradigm shift in fieldwork methods. All of this can contribute to the virtual “invisibility” of non-elite contexts, and can lead to partial or even erroneous conclusions that commoners were largely unconcerned with, or unaffected by, violence and warfare. While locating clues to commoner participation in war may prove challenging, some paths forward are described below in the section titled “Empirical Frameworks for Ongoing Research.”

Complicating matters is the enormous range of cultural variability when it comes to social roles and warfare. What has become clear in recent decades is that there is no typical kind of context or set of conditions, and actors can vary tremendously (Allen Reference Allen, Allen and Jones2014; Allen and Arkush Reference Allen, Arkush, Arkush and Allen2006; Chacon and Mendoza Reference Chacon and Mendoza2007; Golitko Reference Golitko2015; Keeley Reference Keeley1996; Kim and Kissel Reference Kim and Kissel2018; LeBlanc Reference LeBlanc, Allen and Jones2014; Milner Reference Milner2005; Milner et al. Reference Milner, Chaplin and Zavodny2013). Ethnographic and archaeological studies have found that violent practices, as connected to variable motivations and objectives, occurred in myriad ways and involved people across social strata (Kim and Kissel Reference Kim and Kissel2018). This range of cultural variability has implications for the archaeological recognition of violence and warfare, since some practices will be more readily discernible than others.

It is essential to consider how participation and experiences with organized violence can vary by cultural preferences, attitudes, and ethical codes (Demarest Reference Demarest, Giardino, Edmonson and Creamer1978). Inomata and Triadan (Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009:56) point out how cultural codes and logic, held consciously or unconsciously in people's minds, can shape their practices, values, identities, and conceptions about violence and warfare. Beyond participation in battles, they argue for the significance of “routine practices of training, discourse, and rituals of war, in which battles are imagined, re-experienced, and re-enacted” (Inomata and Triadan Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009:56). War can involve religious beliefs, perspectives on gender roles, and other cultural factors. The researchers highlight the importance of historical contexts for shaping cultural conceptions of war (Inomata and Triadan Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009:61). Even if actual outbreaks of warfare are sporadic, uncommon, or rare, daily lifeways can still be affected by perceptions of threat or cultural attitudes about violence. As noted by Inomata and Triadan (Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009), the creation, reproduction, and transformation of cultural codes related to war take place not only through participation in battles, but also through various practices. Not all these behaviors will be easily visible in the archaeological record, especially if researchers do not seek them out. The upshot, then, is that we need to be open to such possibilities as we formulate and test research hypotheses.

SOCIOPOLITICAL USES OF VIOLENCE

Violence among the ancient Maya has long been studied as a means of characterizing their society and the relevance of warfare to interpolity relations through time (Webster Reference Webster2000). By exploring the embeddedness of politics, religion, economics, and other societal dimensions, we emphasize that links between warfare and society were not at all trivial, inconsequential, or insignificant for the Maya. In considering the sociopolitical aspects of violence and warfare in the Classic period, we address two general aspects: (1) a role in maintaining stability and social cohesion (peace), both within societies and between societies and (2) a role in leadership strategies (maintenance of power and/or reinforcement of inequalities). As such, practices of violence and warfare operated as critical mechanisms for social change over time.

Regarding the first aspect, warfare plays a key role in maintaining social stability and even peace. Seeing war and peace as purely antithetical, as well as arguing that one or the other is the norm for human communities, is an oversimplification (Kim and Kissel Reference Kim and Kissel2018:164). Inherent in this kind of view is another dichotomy, one that distinguishes between cooperation and conflict. Warfare requires politicking, innovation, and cooperation among groups (e.g., Kim and Kissel Reference Kim and Kissel2018). As such, it can require complex forms of negotiation, coordination, and communication. It also requires collective goals, oftentimes wrapped up within shared ideologies and attitudes about appropriate forms of violence, tolerance for risks, and acceptable targets of violence. The creation and perception of enemies, moreover, entails mutually held worldviews and beliefs. All these factors point to the highly cooperative nature of warfare, demonstrating that, like war and peace, conflict and cooperation are false dichotomies, counterproductive to any attempt to fully understand societies, past or present.

Additionally, the application of physical power and force, or even the threat of such application, can have an impact on relationships within and between societies (Carneiro Reference Carneiro2018). For the former, it can be a means to unite people against an outside group perceived as “enemy.” For the latter, it can link politically autonomous societies as “allies” against a common threat. Such interpolity alliances can have the additional effect of promoting regional stability, since any act of aggression against one polity is deterred by threat of retaliation by an alliance of polities. In that regard, warfare and the threat of it can actually promote forms of either intra-societal (internal) or regional “peace.” Essentially, then, social institutions of war might actually function as mechanisms to avoid conflict and manufacture peace through strategies of deterrence. As argued by Kim and Kissel (Reference Kim and Kissel2018), peace is not simply the absence of warfare, but is a condition that is produced and safeguarded through elaborate social networks and mechanisms designed precisely to avoid unwanted outbreaks of violence. This framing reflects Roscoe's (Reference Roscoe and Fry2013:275) position that political communities at war are simultaneously operating internally as “spheres of peace.”

Regarding the second aspect, warfare also plays a role in leadership strategies, wherein power is cultivated and maintained and inequalities may be reinforced. Many researchers have highlighted the political and economic aspects and motivations for Maya warfare, and studies have emphasized alliances, rivalries between societies, economic tribute, and control of exchange routes (Chase and Chase Reference Chase, Chase and Ciudad Ruiz1998; Haines and Sagebiel Reference Haines, Sagebiel, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019; McAnany Reference McAnany2010; O'Mansky and Demarest Reference O'Mansky, Demarest, Chacon and Mendoza2007; Tiesler and Cucina Reference Tiesler, Cucina, Martin, Harrod and Perez2012). Hieroglyphic notations for warfare found in Classic-period texts indicate events such as capture or destruction (Chase and Chase Reference Chase, Chase and Ciudad Ruiz1998; Rands Reference Rands1952). Iconographic and epigraphic evidence suggest that, beginning in the late fourth century, the scale and intensity of warfare increased with conflicts between competing alliances and rival regional powers, such as the Mutul Dynasty of Tikal and the Kaan Dynasty of Dzibanche and Calakmul (Martin and Grube Reference Martin and Grube2008; O'Mansky and Demarest Reference O'Mansky, Demarest, Chacon and Mendoza2007:20). Patterns of inter-polity alliances and warfare were quite stable, measurable in generations or sometimes centuries (Ek Reference Ek2020:266; Martin and Grube Reference Martin and Grube2008). By the Late Classic period, conflict may have intensified due to increased status rivalry wherein individuals competed for royal and elite positions (O'Mansky and Demarest Reference O'Mansky, Demarest, Chacon and Mendoza2007:22). Such competition took on various forms, such as architectural construction, patronage networks in exotic goods, and ritual displays, with warfare as the most violent of them (e.g., Freidel Reference Freidel, Renfrew and Cherry1986; Golden Reference Golden, Brown and Stanton2003).

This overview outlines a clear role for the uses of violence in prestige-seeking leadership strategies, in the maintenance of political power and reinforcement of social hierarchies, and in regional interactions. There is little doubt that wars served elite purposes, and that on the royal level, wars were undertaken to keep subordinates in line or, alternatively, to assert independence and create new dynasties (Webster Reference Webster2000:95). Maya kings were closely associated with divinities when they lived, personified gods in rituals, and initiated war and portrayed themselves as participating personally in battles (Houston and Stuart Reference Houston and Stuart1996). These kings, in turn, were surrounded by hereditary nobles and officials for whom participation in violent actions represented one avenue through which to reap political benefit (Webster Reference Webster2000), hinting at the agency of both non-elites and followers (Alcover Firpi Reference Alcover Firpi2020; Landau Reference Landau2021). The capture of enemies appears to have been the foremost measure of military achievement among Classic Maya warriors, whose titles often referenced their capture of high-profile enemies or a tally of captives taken (Inomata and Triadan Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009:63). The epigraphic and iconographic records suggest that one of the main objectives of such captive-taking practices was ritual sacrifice, though there is evidence to suggest that sacrifice was not always the only result, and that ransom was sometimes a significant outcome (see Earley Reference Earley2023; Hernandez Reference Hernandez2023).

The Late Preclassic and Terminal Classic periods might have experienced intensification of warfare, as indicated by an increase in the instances of fortified settlements, though earlier practices may be obscured by later occupation phases (see Bracken Reference Bracken2023). Inomata and Triadan (Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009:73) observe remarkable Late Preclassic sociopolitical transformations, marked by various activities such as the construction of enormous temple-pyramids (at centers like El Mirador), growing habitation in large settlements with monumentality, participating and witnessing mass spectacles of rituals in these places, and the growing power of rulers and priestly figures. They note the possibility of political appropriation of preexisting traditional rituals, belief systems, and practices related to violence. A classic scholarly definition of the “state” stems from a Weberian view in which the state holds a monopoly over the legitimate use of force and violence. In this sense, forms of violence are legitimate if they are state-sponsored or state-sanctioned. The uses of violence, in turn, can function to reinforce the legitimacy of the governing apparatus of a society in a rather cyclical fashion.

Along these lines, we argue that rulers would likely have used existing ideologies and practices, sometimes related to violence and power, as part of a repertoire of leadership strategies. Without shared ideologies already in place, there would be little incentive for rulers and elites to coopt such practices. Indeed, studies have shown that the practice of taking body parts as war trophies go as far back as Mesoamerica's Middle Formative period (ca. 800–500 b.c.; Berryman Reference Berryman, Chacon and Dye2007). Besides trophy-taking, themes of violence in public ceremonies and the central roles of community leaders were critical elements of war-related cultural complexes since the early Middle Preclassic period (Inomata Reference Inomata, Scherer and Verano2014:46). Demarest (Reference Demarest, Demarest and Conrad1992) extends this line of thinking, likening warfare to other royal events as an opportunity for elites to gather and as a source of prestige and therefore power. Demarest (Reference Demarest, Demarest and Conrad1992:149) traces the similarities between the Classic Maya and historic Southeast Asian polities, referring to both as “galactic polities” or “theater states.” These designations highlight the religious ideology that formed a major foundation for political authority, along with the resulting militaristic image those in power were required to project and the inherent instability of such bases for power.

Investigations at Chan, Belize, have revealed that many of the ideational aspects of divine kingship, site sanctification, and ancestor veneration were in place in a small farming community centuries before the Classic period (Robin Reference Robin, Robin, Chase and Chase2012). Additionally, the area with the first evidence of occupation, including a burial with signs of reentry, would later become the location of Chan's Late Classic Central Group. Based on research from other sites, it is known that ideological bases of power and authority were reinforced by the elevation of common rituals involving violence into highly public and state-sponsored spheres (Inomata Reference Inomata2006; Santley et al. Reference Santley, Berman, Alexander, Scarborough, Wilcox, Scarborough and Wilcox1991). Following this logic, we might ask if performances of organized or ritual violence during the Preclassic were more commonplace than previously believed.

Arguably, Preclassic Maya conceptions of ritual sacrifice and attitudes about the sacred and the profane uses of violence could have been appropriated and institutionalized as Classic Maya rulers consolidated state-level power. This notion is supported by evidence indicating how Classic-period authority figures made use of practices such as sacrificing and burning of infants (e.g., Houston et al. Reference Houston, Newman, Román and Garrison2015; Román et al. Reference Román, Garrison, Houston, Garrison and Houston2018; Scherer Reference Scherer, Garrison and Houston2018). Related to this discussion, we can revisit ongoing discourses about the degrees to which Maya polities institutionalized warfare. Many of the scenes depicted in murals and ceramic paintings emphasize the individuality of warrior costumes and fighting tactics rather than coordinated formations (Inomata and Triadan Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009:65; Tate Reference Tate1992; see also Hassig Reference Hassig1992; Miller Reference Miller2023). For some, this degree of individuality suggests lack of coordination and institutionalization that would be hallmarks of centralized control over warfare and the existence of professional armies (Tiesler and Cucina Reference Tiesler, Cucina, Martin, Harrod and Perez2012). Examples from other cultures such as the Inka (see D'Altroy Reference D'Altroy2014), however, suggest that lack of uniform costumes, equipment, or weaponry among Maya elites does not automatically mean that warfare was restricted to smaller-scale battles between high-status males.

Regarding ongoing debates about non-elite or commoner engagement with warfare, Inomata and Triadan (Reference Inomata, Triadan, Nielsen and Walker2009:63) argue for variability in how individuals conceptualize and engage with warfare, and such engagement need not be entirely restricted to a specific social or political class. Undoubtedly, much evidence suggests attempts at the monopolization of violence, and how elites/rulers manipulated public perceptions and consumption of violence, and related religious connotations, to suit their political aims (e.g., Baron Reference Baron2016). Besides political gain, however, the spectacle of such practices may have had other effects for Maya societies, such as community cohesion. Warfare and the consumption of violent spectacles can involve a variety of observers and participants beyond warriors. Returning to the Mesoamerican ballgame, we can see ritualized combat that played out in a variety of arenas, the grandest of which were in the epicenters of major sites with accommodations for a large number of spectators (Miller, this volume; Santley et al. Reference Santley, Berman, Alexander, Scarborough, Wilcox, Scarborough and Wilcox1991; Scarborough and Wilcox Reference Scarborough and Wilcox1991).

Warfare events may be rare, episodic, and even fleeting, but, preparation for actual combat and participation in the aftermath can involve a multitude of people as well. These can include preparatory rituals, provisioning activities, logistics planning, and post-conflict ceremonies, as illustrated in the Bonampak murals. Seen in this light, it should be evident that the general invisibility of non-elites in iconography does not preclude their participation or involvement. The only way to rule them out of such activities is to test hypotheses, and unless we are open to the possibility, then we will not be asking appropriate questions.

EMPIRICAL FRAMEWORKS FOR ONGOING RESEARCH

Given the highly variable nature of cultural practices related to warfare, issues of detection, and the wide range of potential participants, a mixture of data types is necessary to make inferences. As researchers have observed, there are direct and indirect categories of material signatures, each replete with clues that indicate concerns over warfare or evidence for violence (Kim et al. Reference Kim, Kusimba and Keeley2015:8–15). Examples of direct markers include weapons, trauma on skeletal remains, fortification features, deliberate destruction of structures, specialized equipment (e.g., swords or armor), and iconography. Indirect markers include inaccessible or elevated habitation sites, refuges or temporary habitation sites, buffer zones, fortified frontiers, and sudden disruption of long-standing cultural patterns. Multiple, convergent lines of evidence provide the strongest argument for warfare-related concerns and practices (Kim et al. Reference Kim, Kusimba and Keeley2015:9). For instance, walls may function in a variety of social ways and may not be at all defensive. Walls combined with V-shaped outer ditches, bastions, baffled gates, parapets, and other architectural forms, however, provide compelling support for a military value (Keeley et al. Reference Keeley, Fontana and Quick2007).

To appreciate the full scope of Maya warfare across entire populaces, it is necessary to marshal all pertinent lines of evidence (see Webster [Reference Webster2000] for a comprehensive discussion of markers). Over recent decades, researchers have offered many innovative studies focused on the variable nature of Maya violence and warfare, with several employing cutting-edge methodologies of survey, excavation, and materials analysis (Aoyama Reference Aoyama2005; Aoyama and Graham Reference Aoyama and Graham2015; Bey Reference Bey, Kathryn Brown and Stanton2003; Borgstede and Mathieu Reference Borgstede and Mathieu2007; Canuto et al. Reference Canuto, Estrada-Belli, Garrison, Houston, Acuña, Kováč, Marken, Nondédéo, Auld-Thomas, Castanet, Chatelain, Chiriboga, Drápela, Lieskovský, Tokovinine, Velasquez, Fernández Díaz and Shrestha2018; Demarest et al. Reference Demarest, Quintanilla, Suasnavar, Iannone, Houk and Schwake2016; Freidel Reference Freidel, Iannone, Houk and Schwake2016; Golden et al. Reference Golden, Scherer, Kingsley, Houston, Escobedo, Iannone, Houk and Schwake2016; Hernandez and Palka Reference Hernandez, Palka and Benfer2017; Rice et al. Reference Rice, Rice, Pugh, Polo, Rice and Rice2009; Serafin et al. Reference Serafin, Lope and Gonzalez2014; Tiesler and Cucina Reference Tiesler, Cucina, Martin, Harrod and Perez2012; Wahl et al. Reference Wahl, Anderson, Estrada-Belli and Tokovinine2019). Ultimately, holistic perspectives incorporating a package of data from different categories are needed to recognize the embedded nature of violence and warfare within a range of cultural, economic, political, and ideological domains. In the following sections, we briefly highlight these major categories of evidence.

A REGIONAL APPROACH: LINKING SITES AND DATA STREAMS

Maya martial practices, tactics, and uses of weaponry may have varied not only through time but by region, owing to differences in cultural preferences as well as terrain and topographic features. Given recent advances in remote-sensing techniques, we now have the opportunity to revisit interactions between settlements in a wider regional setting. Maya sites with obvious martial architecture are not currently numerous, and those showing signs of actual destruction are even rarer. If we rely solely on such site-specific data, we might miss the proverbial forest for a preoccupation with the trees. Along these lines, Garrison and colleagues (Reference Garrison, Houston and Alcover Firpi2019) argue that centripetal, court-centered views tend to draw boundaries and separations with outlying rural areas even when all parts of a society are much more intricately linked. Citing work by Lucero and colleagues (Reference Lucero, Fletcher and Coningham2015), they suggest that a more suitable approach involves the idea of “conurbation,” which sees an integrated totality of landscapes across a continuous expanse. Similarly, Sabloff (Reference Sabloff2019) notes there has been a long tradition of looking at wider, regional settlement patterns to better understand Maya civilization. With such perspectives in mind, we advocate a consideration of organized violence on a more regional scale. Do regional data permit us to recognize “intersite zones” (O'Mansky and Demarest Reference O'Mansky, Demarest, Chacon and Mendoza2007:27), frontier zone defensive works, refuges, buffer zones, military outposts, and other such features?

Important clues can be gleaned from the epigraphic record. Considerations of Maya settlements in north-Central Belize by Haines and Sagebiel (Reference Haines, Sagebiel, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019) highlight changing political landscapes and how aggression played a role, particularly for the sites of Ka'kabish and Lamanai. The researchers do so by combining clues from ceramics and epigraphy. The work of Tokovinine (Reference Tokovinine, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019) illustrates the effectiveness of using Maya inscriptions to highlight links between places and warfare on a macro level, and how such studies allow glimpses into indigenous attitudes. The research offers intriguing evidence for changing views of martial landscapes over time, with the seventh century seeing the highest relative frequency of narrative contexts indicating conquest warfare, with emphasis on places rather than individuals (Tokovinine Reference Tokovinine, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019:100).

In an analysis of fortification systems in the Petexbatun region, O'Mansky and Demarest (Reference O'Mansky, Demarest, Chacon and Mendoza2007) highlight evidence for changing patterns of warfare and political change. At the Tecolote site in Guatemala (ca. a.d. 600–900), there are indicators of a series of stone walls and hilltop watchtowers, in which the former appear to have been the foundations for wooden palisades. Scherer and Golden (Reference Scherer and Golden2009) see the site-core and its associated walls and watchtowers as part of an integrated polity-wide defense system, with some sites along the polity's northern frontier operating as staging grounds for attacks into a rival kingdom's territory. Bey and Gallareta Negrón (Reference Bey, Negrón, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019:138) have identified likely checkpoints and lookout towers along polity boundaries in the Bolonchen District of the Puuc region. In all these cases, the material record is consistent with clues from epigraphy in suggesting the social significance of warfare in a pan-regional setting.

A regional approach can synthesize new datasets from innovative methodologies of data collection, such as those generated from LiDAR. Such data can help researchers uncover more information about the majority of the Maya populace, helping us to understand lifeways beyond the major temples, palaces, and plazas at the heart of cities (Garrison et al. Reference Garrison, Houston and Alcover Firpi2019; Holmes Reference Holmes2019). In 2016, the Pacunam LiDAR Initiative mapped 2,144 km² of natural terrain and archaeological features over several distinct areas, revealing interconnected urban settlement and landscapes with extensive infrastructural development (Canuto et al. Reference Canuto, Estrada-Belli, Garrison, Houston, Acuña, Kováč, Marken, Nondédéo, Auld-Thomas, Castanet, Chatelain, Chiriboga, Drápela, Lieskovský, Tokovinine, Velasquez, Fernández Díaz and Shrestha2018). The regionally robust findings uncovered unexpected networks of roads and fortifications and challenged conventional views about the Maya lowlands containing small city-state centers ruled by warring elites. Instead, they suggested a regional network of densely populated cities with complex integrative mechanisms (Canuto et al. Reference Canuto, Estrada-Belli, Garrison, Houston, Acuña, Kováč, Marken, Nondédéo, Auld-Thomas, Castanet, Chatelain, Chiriboga, Drápela, Lieskovský, Tokovinine, Velasquez, Fernández Díaz and Shrestha2018:1).

These data reflect substantial infrastructural investment in features like causeways to facilitate movement and interaction between centers, alongside investment in fortifications and other defensive features to restrict access to particular areas. Built networks of fortifications were found in over 30 discrete sites, and in most cases, defenses consisted of more than just perimeter walls. Large-scale LiDAR surveys northeast of El Zotz in Guatemala identified a series of intervisible citadels that represent an extensive defensive system (Garrison et al. Reference Garrison, Houston and Alcover Firpi2019; Houston et al. Reference Houston, Garrison and Alcover Firpi2019). They reveal how substantial investments in landscape and surveillance were mixed with a multitude of uses within the areas of the city-state. The data show an articulated landscape with specialized agricultural systems and associated settlements, combined with a regional system of infrastructure and fortification features (such as La Cuernavilla). Moreover, sites like Kanalna and the El Achiotal promontory appear to be potential refuges. This wider view underscores high degrees of political coordination across territories, as well as possible concerns over outbreaks of war within those variable landscapes.

Regional approaches to conflict can synthesize and contextualize data from artifact categories that are not typically associated with questions about warfare. For example, Barrett and Scherer's (Reference Barrett and Scherer2005) work at Colha, Belize, shows how transitions in lithic production can complement other datasets to reveal connections between warfare and site destruction. For the Late and Terminal Classic periods, Bey (Reference Bey, Kathryn Brown and Stanton2003) demonstrates how analyses of ceramic production and style can shed light on disruptions to cultural patterns, which may reflect forms of intra-societal or intersocietal friction, conflict, or even outright conquest. Data from material analyses from various sites, when combined in a pan-regional manner, can thus reveal choices in trade routes, exchange partners, possible alliance networks, and concerns over threats.

Other kinds of analyses can also be extremely helpful, such as the arrangement of sites within a region and the distances between fortified settlements within. Innovative work by Webster (Reference Webster, Feinman and Marcus1998, Reference Webster2000:99) measures linear distances between paired protagonist Classic centers and determines that the upper end of the range is approximately the distance (108 km) between Tikal and two of its major enemies, Calakmul and Dos Pilas. Such data, combined with inscriptions about warfare events, can tell us about logistical needs for moving warrior groups as well as strategies and tactics. They can help predict where to find potential battlefields, frontier defenses, outposts, staging areas, and other sites and features (see Chase and Chase [Reference Chase, Chase and Ciudad Ruiz1998] for discussion of marching distances). Moreover, these kinds of studies are relevant for questions about the full range of stages and participants that warfare entailed. The ongoing incorporation of geographic information systems methods, including “line-of-sight,” “cost-surface,” and other agent-centered analyses, can be used to produce data about optimal routes of travel and visibility across broad areas, thus helping us to better situate warfare practices in a pan-regional manner (McCool Reference McCool2017). These methods can increasingly be combined with LiDAR survey data to comprehensively test assertions about interregional interactions and even the possibilities of total warfare.

As mentioned above, warfare can involve a disparate range of activities not associated with actual combat, including logistics, provisioning, and transport. Accordingly, it would be productive to examine other contexts and related artifacts that may be connected to preparations for raids or battles or post-conflict events (such as those seen in the murals of Bonampak). This type of framework could be very useful in broadening our understanding of warfare's variable contexts, and would bring to the surface the roles of a range of agents from different demographic categories. Similar to studies in other world areas, discussions of Maya warfare have generally centered on the role of male elites, thus relegating women and children to the domain of victim or passive participant. Examining a fuller range of potential participants facilitates a better understanding of practices of violence and warfare as embedded within a wider web of social practices and ideologies, and can help reorient our research questions and promote novel hypotheses to test (Houston Reference Houston2018; Reese-Taylor et al. Reference Reese-Taylor, Peter Mathews, Fritzler, Orr and Koontz2009; Sabloff Reference Sabloff2017; Wren et al. Reference Wren, Spencer, Nygard, Wren, Kristan-Graham, Nygard and Spencer2018).

COMBINING SECULAR AND RELIGIOUS DOMAINS

If warfare requires cooperation and shared beliefs, then our understanding of Maya warfare requires consideration of the “emic” or the cultural insiders’ perspectives (Brown Reference Brown, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019). Researchers have long seen the connection between Maya rituals of sacrifice and religious systems, seeing a panoply of cultural practices associated with ideologies and attitudes about violence and warfare. Many researchers have highlighted the animacy of the Maya cosmos (Brady and Ashmore Reference Brady, Ashmore, Ashmore and Bernard Knapp1999). Are there ways to consider the animacy of artifacts and architecture in practices of warfare and how belief systems might be reflected (Carballo Reference Carballo2016:3–4; Walker Reference Walker, Nielsen and Walker2009)? Can we see clues from various contexts, such as architecture or ritually charged objects meant to defend against spiritual threats? These sorts of studies offer finer resolution in our considerations of agency and culture when it comes to violence (Nielsen and Walker Reference Nielsen, Walker, Nielsen and Walker2009).

Rather than treating religion, beliefs, and institutions as epiphenomenal in the conduct of war, Nielsen and Walker (Reference Walker, Nielsen and Walker2009:3) argue for their importance as motivating factors. Similarly, Hernandez and Palka (Reference Hernandez, Palka and Benfer2017) offer intriguing discussions about “divine protection,” citing evidence of fortification features that not only sheltered people and territory from external threats, but also guarded sacred places (e.g., cliffs, islands, caves, and temples). Hernandez and Palka (Reference Hernandez, Palka, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019:33) argue for the significance of ritual landscapes and sacred sites, citing how such locations were defended because the future of the community and communication with tutelary deities rested on their preservation. Furthermore, the authors point out that the protection and desecration of sacred places in Mesoamerica were related to covenants or agreements between people and the resident spiritual forces in ritual landscapes. In that sense, warfare was inextricably linked with human sacrifice and ideologies of the sacred. Most commoners and elites likely shared these views of the sacred, as indicated by the presentation of captives and their sacrifice as “a mass spectacle in the plazas and temples of ancient Maya sites” (Hernandez and Palka Reference Hernandez, Palka, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019:33–34).

As observed by Berryman (Reference Berryman, Chacon and Dye2007:378), the field reports for many Maya sites refer to “problematic deposits” including isolated crania, headless bodies, caches of mandibles, or otherwise dismembered individuals, materials suggesting rituals of human sacrifice. Such osteological materials are consistent with the abundant imagery depicting sacrifice and trophy-taking, and analyses can contribute to knowledge about Maya warfare. In a recent study, Chinchilla Mazariegos and colleagues (Reference Chinchilla Mazariegos, Tiesler, Gomez and Douglas Price2015) discuss a burial context found at Tikal dating to the fifth century in which the burial is connected to ritual sacrifice of two individuals and hints at mythical associations. Using a blend of archaeological, taphonomic, and isotopic analysis to reconstruct the ritual behaviors that resulted in the formation of the partially cremated primary burial, the authors demonstrate how a multidisciplinary approach can illuminate links between myth, ritual, and human sacrifice.

Studies of other sacred contexts and landscapes are similarly instructive, including caves, cenotes, lakes, and pools (Lucero and Kinkella Reference Lucero and Kinkella2015). Sacrificial offerings, sometimes in the form of humans, were placed at many of these sacred sites. Caves are documented as ritual locations for the Maya from the distant past through the present, and ethnographic and ethnohistoric data in comparison with archaeological findings indicate the continuity of symbolism of and ritual practice within these settings (Woodfill Reference Woodfill2019). The findings signal the importance of sacred spaces for Maya cultural practices and highlight an avenue through which to glimpse actions beyond the centers of urban spaces. Assuming the possibility ritual sacrifices occasionally involved violence perpetrated on individuals from outside communities, there may be productive ways to consider links between ideology and warfare.

The archaeologically visible details of ritual sacrifice point to deeper socially embedded aspects of the practice. How can attitudes about acceptable choices in sacrificial victims help us understand political and social relationships within and between communities? How were raiding activities associated with religious motivations or public displays of ritual sacrifice? How were religious interests thus tied to political or economic concerns? The visibility of commoners within ritually violent activities reveals both interpolity conflict as well as intra-societal relationships and politics. The material data can illuminate possible forms of class conflict, factional friction, inequality, or structural violence (Bernbeck Reference Bernbeck, Alexander Bentley, Maschner and Chippindale2008; Blanton et al. Reference Blanton, Feinman, Kowalewski and Peregrine1996; Brumfiel Reference Brumfiel, Brumfiel and Fox1994; Farmer et al. Reference Farmer, Nizeye, Stulac and Keshavjee2006; Galtung Reference Galtung1990; Gilman Reference Gilman and Earle1991; Kusimba Reference Kusimba, Arkush and Allen2006). Researchers can combine streams of complementary data such as bioarchaeological markers on human remains, iconography, residential patterning, and others to formulate larger pictures about internal conflicts. With the evidence for high-status captives being taken for ransom and ritual sacrifice, it may also be productive to consider other motivations and contexts for the capture and social integration of people from other categories of outsiders. Houston (Reference Houston2020) has proposed that perhaps concentric walls that were constructed over preexisting buildings within settlements might have been used to enclose marketplaces. The barricades around markets would have deterred attackers and also functioned to keep captives from escaping. Future studies of the Classic period would benefit from greater focus on the dynamics of captive-taking for both “secular” and “religious” domains (Cameron Reference Cameron2011; Collins Reference Collins2002).

Given the growing amount of cutting-edge research on human sacrifice, it would be interesting to view cases in a larger context of social change and interregional warfare. Such studies can be connected to changing attitudes about community identities, insiders versus outsiders, along with variable perceptions of sacred locations. All these topics inform larger connections between religious practices, belief systems, and intra- and intercommunity relationships. A culturally holistic approach to warfare helps us appreciate the sometimes-subtle links between rituals, beliefs, and socioeconomic activities related to violence (Brown Reference Brown, Morton and Peuramaki-Brown2019:xvi).

RESUMEN

En Mesoamérica, los estudios en curso han enriquecido nuestro conocimiento de los contextos culturales de violencia y guerra en las sociedades mayas, particularmente durante el Período Clásico (c. 200–1000 d.C.). Destacando la evidencia actual, este artículo explora los aspectos generales de la violencia organizada en las culturas mayas. Nuestro objetivo es complementar los argumentos anteriores, desarrollarlos más dado a nueva evidencia y sugerir formas de reorientar y reformular las preguntas de investigación.

Los investigadores, en algunos argumentos anteriores sobre la guerra maya, han sugerido que esta forma de conflicto estaba restringido a ciertos segmentos o tendacias demográficas de la población, de alcance y naturaleza limitados; ersto, debido a que estaba restringido por normas y reglas, y era relativamente intrascendente para la mayoría de la gente. En contraste, otros investigadores han argumentado que ciertos aspectos de la guerra fueron bastante significativos para distintos segmentos de la población durante varios períodos temporales. En este artículo, revisamos algunas de estas perspectivas opuestas. Sostenemos que ver la guerra como algo restringido en términos de participación e impacto minimiza los posibles papeles que varios miembros de la comunidad podrían haber desempeñado al hacer y vivir la guerra. Argumentamos que la práctica cultural puede iluminar la manera en que la violencia tomó diferentes formas en las sociedades mayas, y cómo las formas de violencia intra- e intercomunidad fueron fundamentales para lograr el cambio social (ya sea intencional o no).

Hay innumerables tipos de datos y marcos conceptuales en las que se puede explorar la guerra. El proceso de hacer la guerra se extiende mucho más allá de la batalla activa, desde la preparación para el conflicto en anticipación, hasta las secuelas de la muerte, destrucción, conquista, o incluso un punto muerto. Todas estas prácticas se interrelacionan con otras actividades culturales fuera de la categoría de guerra. Debido a las complejas actitudes y usos de la violencia, la participación en aspectos de la guerra no se limitó a las élites. Siguiendo este argumento, también sugerimos que una perspectiva regional ofrece una forma interesante de plantear nuevas preguntas sobre el carácter de la violencia organizada entre comunidades. Al explorar la guerra, las investigaciones en curso se beneficiarían de complementar los estudios específicos del sitio o asentamiento con consideraciones más amplias y panregionales y permitiría además investigar cómo estos patrones cambiaron con el tiempo. La investigación reciente que utiliza datos de teledetección, por ejemplo, va a ser vital para mejorar nuestra comprensión del conflicto a escala regional. Concluimos discutiendo los marcos y datos que se pueden utilizar para generar hipótesis sobre la guerra y su impacto entre las sociedades Mayas.