Theoretical Background: Strategies as Situated within Field Theory

This chapter takes the position that the exclusionary/network and corporate strategies described by Blanton and colleagues (Blanton 1998a; Blanton et al. 1996) can be connected to specific institutions, often associated with formalized built space. These authors characterize exclusionary strategies as drawing upon wealth and external contacts to exclude others from power—dynastic rulership among the Classic southern lowland Maya is often cited as the canonical example, in which divine kings and queens successfully monopolized access to the symbols, tools, and positions of power. Social actors associated with corporate strategies pursue an inclusive group identity through ceremony and ritual, suppressing or redirecting competition. Teotihuacan with its apparent absence of aggrandizement for a dynastic lineage is characterized as corporate. Descent groups¹ played significant roles in both political systems, but at Teotihuacan a number of these social building blocks are argued to have shared power at some wider scale of political activity. Hence the terms “corporate” and “exclusionary” cannot be used in isolation, but only in a relational sense to describe the strategy pursued by an individual or group vis-à-vis other groups.

Social and political strategies possess a contextual and spatial aspect that defines where and when it is appropriate for social actors to pursue them. In Pierre Bourdieu’s work, he pointed out that habitus and strategies play out differently in different fields, or socially defined contexts of competition for power (Wacquant 1989:38–41). His work typically interpreted field in terms of social space, so that art, business, academia, and so on each formed a field that might fit together relationally into a still larger one, such as the fields of cultural production or power or bureaucracy (see Bourdieu 1993, 1998, 2004). Fields encompass competition over one or more forms of capital (Bourdieu 1986), and relate to other fields in complex ways. Corporate and exclusionary strategies can be understood within Bourdieu’s fields, such that social rules and cognitive codes ensure that people use and pursue different forms of capital within bounded social contexts.

Equating fields to physical spaces is not self-evident, and some interpreters of Bourdieu take pains to emphasize that fields more properly correspond to institutions and social space (Thomson 2008:74). But it is worth recalling that Bourdieu’s concept of the field is not unlike Turner’s (1974) contemporary idea of the arena, a physical space in which political conflict and competition are acted out through performance (cf. Inomata and Coben 2006; Postill 2011). Political strategies are cross-culturally bounded by proscriptions and prescriptions (e.g., Boehm 1993), and political elites are obligated to have a visible and performative component to their activities. Formally designed spaces provide an appropriate venue for performance (accession rituals, bill signing, speeches, debates, etc.) and furthermore create opportunities for political elites to reach subjects through affective means (Smith 2000). This circumscription of competition may also help to contain changes to the overarching field of power. The reproduction of one pathway to status and authority would have been partly insulated from disruption in another. Elites may seek to break down the barriers between fields and extend political activity beyond their socially accepted contexts, but these efforts to undermine cultural codes are more likely to engender resistance.

Blanton and colleagues noted the potential spatial associations of both their strategies: “Corporate and network strategies result in dissimilar and antagonistic political economies and so are likely to be temporally or spatially separated” (Blanton et al. 1996:7). Temporal distinctions have received most attention to date, but a number of researchers have pointed to evidence for the contemporaneity of the two strategies (Fleming 2004; Porter 2002; Urban and Schortman 2004). So taking the example of the Classic southern lowland Maya above, just because they are seen to have primarily followed exclusionary strategies, this would not preclude the pursuit of corporate strategies in distinct spatial settings—a council house, for example. The co-occurrence of opposing strategies forces a more direct consideration of their separate spatial needs and the fields in which they are active. Both possess significant performative aspects, with corporate strategies being more inclusive and demanding of large public spaces in which political activity can be witnessed by a greater number of people. Network approaches can derive their exclusionary aspect by limiting participation, and defining a privileged audience more narrowly through the use of smaller and access-restricted spaces (see Uriarte Torres 2011 for these and other predictive characteristics).

Complex societies rarely offer a single route to power, and there will likely be multiple examples of formalized built space that are appropriate for different forms of political activity (I suggest McGuire 1983 to be an early recognition of this point). Each of these formal architectural spaces are places in which political strategies could be acted out in the pursuit of different forms of capital. Hence to take an example from Bali that I have used previously (Beekman 2005:56), the irrigation temple networks studied by Lansing (1991, 2006) continue to be built and maintained by a collection of farming cooperatives in a self-organized corporate or group-oriented strategy. Competing political elites and their kingdoms (Geertz 1980), on the other hand, made up a second route to power more reminiscent of an exclusionary strategy, and the political elites possessed no control over the irrigation systems. Hence these two strategies with their own sets of rules and expectations are associated with and are carried out within different networks of built space. Not all forms of power necessarily have spatial loci (the work of Michel Foucault best exemplifies this problem), and some places could potentially be made acceptable for either group or individual-oriented performance. Some of these difficulties may be overcome by integrating other data sets with the archaeological record.

To summarize the theoretical argument, struggles over political power are constrained cross-culturally by defining contextual limitations on political competition. This partial encapsulation thereby limits which structures of power will be reproduced or disrupted by political activity. Participation in these arenas is dependent upon the possession of some form of capital, and capital is the medium and goal of competition. More complex societies by definition include multiple routes to power (McGuire 1983) dependent on different forms of capital, but they are kept contextually distinct by associating them with defined spaces. Once positions of power have been defined, the wider field of conflict over the relative importance of different forms of capital will become more apparent. This oscillation in the dominant form of capital is potentially the basis for the social transformations between corporate and exclusionary strategies.

Formal Spaces and Strategies in Late Formative-Early Classic Central Jalisco

Compared to some areas of Mesoamerica, Late Formative/Early Classic central Jalisco shows evidence for a relatively limited number of recurring formal spaces (Beekman and Weigand 2008). Past archaeological research by Weigand (e.g., 1996) placed considerable emphasis upon architecture and built space, leading to his definition of a Teuchitlán tradition. It is possible to build upon this strictly material evidence to discuss the activities that took place in the architecture, and interpret them in terms of different kinds of strategies. I will discuss three forms of built space and a possible fourth, taking into account surface and excavated evidence as well as contemporaneous ceramic models that depict activities within the architecture.

Shaft Tombs

For much of the twentieth century, archaeological research in western Mexico focused on the deep shaft and chamber tombs (Fowler et al. 2006) (figure 3.1a). Various lines of evidence have been used to associate the tombs with discrete descent groups (Beekman 2008; Ramos de la Vega and López Mestas Camberos 1996). Innumerable looted tombs exist, but fortunately there are approximately 40 examples that have been excavated and published in varying degrees of detail. Shaft tombs essentially break down into those grouped into cemeteries on the rural landscape (e.g., Galván Villegas 1991), and isolated tombs occurring beneath public architecture in ceremonial centers (e.g., Ramos de la Vega and López Mestas Camberos 1996). The latter tombs are larger, deeper, and accompanied by more varied and numerous offerings. The tombs beneath the public architecture also tend to have more consistent evidence of reuse and the interment of additional individuals, while the rural tombs can often have a single occupant. The tombs in the ceremonial centers thus demonstrated greater genealogical depth for group claims to the titles or ceremonial positions associated with the public architecture, much as monumental inscriptions or codices did in other times and places. The rural cemeteries emphasized the presence and cohesion of larger groups, and were probably associated with claims to economic capital in the form of land rights.

Figure 3.1. Examples of each of the forms of built space proposed as associated with specific social institutions and strategies: (a) shaft tomb, (b) guachimontón (circular public architecture), (b') a guachimontón with one outsized platform, (c) ballcourt, and (d) elite residential group. (Images taken from Beekman [2005:figures 4.2 and 4.4] and courtesy of the Tequila Valley Regional Archaeological Project.

Ceramic models depict formal processions in which the dead were carried toward a structure (von Winning 1969:figures 156–157) (figure 3.2). Elite shaft tombs are found beneath buildings, and these procession scenes make it clear that burial was a public display, a performance that emphasized a family’s external connections through the exhibition of their objectified cultural capital (in the sense of Bourdieu 1986:50). Artifacts found within the tombs include ceramic vessels, shell or mineral jewelry, obsidian tools and jewelry, ceramic figurines, and hollow ceramic figures (the best published and excavated examples being in Galván Villegas 1991; Ramos de la Vega and López Mestas Camberos 1996). The raw materials used for jewelry or figurines could be exotic: jade was imported from Guatemala, and shells were brought from both the Pacific and Caribbean coasts. Fine ceramic bowls, particularly of the Oconahua Red on Cream type, usually incorporate a quadripartite division of the vessel interior, making reference to the Mesoamerican cosmological model. But there are also finely made vessels with maize symbols arranged into rows and separated by lines representing water, likely depicting farming landscapes (Beekman 2009:figuras 7–8).

Figure 3.2. Ceramic model depicting a burial procession with the dead being carried by pallbearers. (Drawing by Kathy Beekman, after von Winning and Hammer 1972:figure 87.)

The combined evidence leaves little doubt but that elite lineages practiced exclusionary strategies in association with mortuary ritual, but through the conspicuous display of wealth rather than through access-limited family ritual. Death was an opportunity to draw attention to the wealth and connections of the descent group, well demonstrated by the models of open processions carrying the dead to the tomb. This public display was used to express and reinforce the status and claims of the group (Beekman 2000). The tomb itself was a small and cramped space inappropriate for display, and the procession and mortuary rites were the true focus of the performance. In the spatial analysis that follows, I set aside rural cemeteries as potentially focused on different forms of capital and our record of their locations is in any case very incomplete.

Guachimontones

The circular public architecture (known as guachimontones) shows a clearly different pattern. The circular guachimontón form is composed of usually eight satellite platforms surrounding a central circular altar or pyramid (figure 3.1b). As reconstructed elsewhere, each of the surrounding platforms was built by a different descent group and occasionally had a shaft tomb beneath (Beekman 2008). Our excavations of three circles at Llano Grande and Navajas have encountered an assemblage of ceramics, lithics, groundstone, figurines and hollow figures, plant remains, and quartz crystals. Analyses are ongoing but preliminary summaries exist (Beekman 2008; Beekman et al. 2004). The ceramics include high-quality wares that nonetheless show only simple decoration (Johns 2014). Lithic remains include infrequent groundstone, manufacturing debris as well as finished products of obsidian, and limited evidence for obsidian jewelry (Hoedl 2013; Wagner 2014). No jade or shell has been identified. We are currently engaged in trying to distinguish ordinary residential tasks (particularly food preparation) from more exotic forms of the same activities, such as feasting within an otherwise sacred space. This ambiguity attests to the quotidian nature of the assemblage compared to that found in the shaft tombs, and activities within the circles placed less emphasis on communicative style. I have interpreted this elsewhere (Beekman 2000) as a decrease or suppression of open competition within the guachimontones due to cultural conventions regarding inappropriate behavior within the ceremonial circles (see Blanton 1998a:163–166).

Ceramic dioramas are a particularly rich source of information for what took place in the circles (figure 3.3). Models of the architecture often show consumption of food and drink (Butterwick 1998), musical performances, or dancing within the patio, perhaps on the occasion of a marriage (von Winning 1971:348, figures 10, 11). Other models depict a pole-climbing ceremony identified as analogous to the Postclassic Xocotl Huetzi veintena ceremony associated with the green-maize harvest (Beekman 2003a). The circles replicate the multilayered cosmological model so often found in Mesoamerican public architecture (Beekman 2003b; Kelley 1974). The occasional shaft tombs below represented the underworld, the patio with its very human activities was associated with this world, and the central altar or pyramid with a pole raised in its center made direct reference to the sacred mountain and ties to the heavens. The themes of agriculture and the cosmos were not specific to any particular descent group, and ritual performance drew together elites and subjects in an inclusive manner. Critically, none of the participating lineages was able to monopolize the link between human-built sacred space and the cosmos that it represented (Beekman 2008). The architecture replicated the Mesoamerican universe, but since the guachimontón form was divided into a series of components, each built and maintained by different descent groups, no one group was in a position to claim the role of exclusive mediator to supernatural forces. Power was thus explicitly shared among a collection of descent groups, and no single dominant family was able to emerge. At least this was usually the case. There are just a few examples of guachimontones in which one of the satellite platforms around the circle was enlarged to a degree unmatched by the others (e.g., Beekman 2005:figure 4.4; Weigand 1993:191; Weigand and García de Weigand 1997:56). These may be cases in which a single descent group was able to subvert the architecturally enshrined equality among families in some manner (figure 3.1b'), and they receive further attention below.

Figure 3.3. Ceramic model depicting a simplified form of the guachimontón public architecture. (Drawing by Chris and Kathy Beekman, after von Winning and Hammer 1972: color plate 1.)

Overall, the guachimontón architecture was the most visible type of formal built space in central Jalisco during this period, and the activities within correspond very well with what we have come to expect from the corporate strategy described by Blanton and colleagues—ritual with cosmic or otherwise communal themes. Important ceremonial roles were shared among several descent groups that were ranked more highly than others through their possession of cultural capital in the form of sacred knowledge. Holding a privileged position within the circles and participating in these ceremonies allowed elite families to accumulate increased prestige, reproducing their position and solidifying their social distance from subjects. Opportunities existed for these families or individual members to stand out through their participation in public ritual (Beekman 2000), but the difficulty for any group to claim exclusivity as mediators with the supernatural prevented this from becoming institutionalized. Hence individual descent groups remained relatively equal when compared to one another.

Ballcourts

The third form of built space that can be associated with political strategies is the ballcourt (figure 3.1c). The Mesoamerican ballgame was a complex public spectacle in which individuals or teams competed by keeping a rubber ball in motion and moving it down an open space marked on the ground or in a formal court (Scarborough and Wilcox 1991; Whittington 2001). It has been practiced in western Mexico for some 3,500 years. Some of the earliest evidence for the ballgame occurs in the form of ballplayer figurines in the Early Formative El Opeño tombs of Michoacán (Oliveros Morales 2004:figuras 11a, 11b, imágenes 17–19), and a form of the game has been documented from the early Colonial period up to the present day (Beals 1932:113, 1933:11–13; Kelly 1943; Leyenaar 2001). The game was undoubtedly played for reasons of sport in the past, but this hardly requires a large and formally designed court, just as casual games of fútbol can be played nearly anywhere. The construction of a formal ballcourt creates a special form of built space especially conducive to special and public versions of the game.

Like the public rituals in the circles, there is an element of competition in which teams or individuals could potentially stand out through demonstrations of their skill. Yet the ballgame once again has cosmic overtones—including sacrifice, renewal, and the dynamics of the universe, with specific variations on these abstract themes across Mesoamerica. Mediated by these higher goals, the ballgame became a controlled form of competition that reified and/or provided an outlet for entrenched social antagonisms (Blanco 2009; Gillespie 1991; Kowalewski et al. 1991; Weigand 1991). Ceramic figures and models in western Mexico portray ballplayers, the court, and their equipment (Day 1998) (figure 3.4), but the rich iconography known elsewhere remains unrecognized to date, prompting greater dependence on archaeological evidence. Ballcourt sizes in Late Formative/Early Classic central Jalisco can be arranged into a hierarchy that has been related to different scales of inter- and intrapolity conflict resolution (Blanco 2009; Weigand 1991). Blanco’s summary of the excavation evidence at Los Guachimontones points particularly to the presence of human remains in pits within the court, and to the predominance of domestic wares rather than finewares (Blanco 2009:119–157). The similarity to practices within the guachimontones, and those proposed for a corporate strategy, are evident.

Figure 3.4. Ceramic model depicting a ballcourt with a ballgame in progress. (Drawing by Chris and Kathy Beekman, after Butterwick 2005:18.)

The intrasite placement of ballcourts in Jalisco indicates even closer links to the circles. There is no complete consideration of the ballcourts within the Tequila valleys, but of the 17 ballcourts illustrated in two major sources (Blanco 2009; duVall 2007), one court aligns perpendicularly to two circles, seven are freestanding, and nine are appended to the circles such that the end platform for the ballcourt is also a satellite platform for the circle. All are found within the ceremonial centers. The two architectural forms thus share a close relationship most of the time. More speculatively, this physical connection suggests a link between the two that was proposed for other areas of Mesoamerica by Schele and Guernsey Kappelman (2001). Those two authors have drawn attention to the Postclassic myth of Coatepec (Snake Mountain), in which the Aztecs built a temple to Huitzilopochtli atop Coatepec during one of their stops on the lengthy peregrinations toward central Mexico. They afterwards built a ballcourt at the base of the mountain. A subsequent story tells of flooding within this court, a reference to the known association of ballcourts with a watery underworld. The authors identify this symbolic relationship between mountains and water across Formative and Classic Mesoamerica, primarily in iconography but also in the layouts of the ceremonial centers of Dzibilchaltún, Uaxactún, Tikal, and others. The visually similar layout of the combined ballcourt-guachimontón complex would therefore represent the juxtaposition of the sacred mountain and the watery underworld, duplicating and reinforcing the cosmological model already present in the circle alone. The ballcourt and circle complex thus constitute a larger plan with its own cosmological meaning, cementing further their importance for group-oriented performative ritual in the Tequila valleys.

Elite Households

A final architectural form of potential importance is the elite household. It has been observed that “palaces” have not been identified in Late Formative/Early Classic Jalisco (Nelson 2004), at least not in comparison with those known elsewhere in Mesoamerica. However, Smith Marquez (2009) has defined a series of size categories in residential groups that he calls “cruciforms,” since they are often composed of four symmetrically placed rectangular structures around a leveled patio. Apart from the fact that this scheme artificially separates groups of four from other residential groups ranging from 2 to 8 structures, his hierarchy duplicates an analysis that found a wide size range in residential groups as measured by structure area (Beekman 2009b). The largest groups are found in prominent areas within the ceremonial centers. For example, Group 3 at Navajas and Feature VI at Loma Alta resemble nothing so much as oversized residential groups, with three or four rectangular structures facing a leveled patio (figure 3.1d). The largest of these groups were arguably the residences for elite families, even if they are not so differentiated from commoner residences in their internal complexity to be considered as “palaces.” None of these has been excavated to date, and they pose some problems for their interpretation. Did they house all the descent groups associated with a circle? Do they suggest the preeminence of a single group? Most of the ceramic architectural dioramas depict individual buildings that may be residential or places of residential-like activities. These may be ordinary or outsized residences, or one of the satellite platforms around the guachimontones, but either would suggest that the descent group is being highlighted rather than any wider social collectivity. The house models portray more private, interior views of food preparation and consumption (everyday meals, or public feasting?) and/or seated and conferring individuals (family chats, or formal reception of visitors/supplicants?) (Day et al. 1996:table 1). A lower story is often shown, perhaps depicting a shaft tomb (e.g., Furst 1975) and further emphasizing the linkage of this space to families rather than community. Only excavation across the size categories of residential groups will clarify the situation, but the large residential complexes hold out the possibility of another form of built space that may be associated with descent groups that have succeeded in lineage aggrandizement. Although this interpretation is certainly tenuous, I consider the possibility below when discussing their spatial distribution.

The field of power in Late Formative/Early Classic central Jalisco consisted of descent groups in competition with one another in multiple ways and multiple venues. Following Archer (Archer 1982:462–463, 475–477; 1995:247–293; 2000:253–305), I (Beekman 2005) have proposed that the descent groups were collective agents that served as important social actors in the Tequila valleys. Individual members aligned their interests to a significant degree with those of the group, since that affiliation is probably how they gained access to different forms of corporate property or capital, whether sacred knowledge, titles, or land. Yet the major tensions in central Jalisco were not between individuals and descent groups but between descent group and community interests. The broader institutions that sought to incorporate and dampen competition among the descent groups were the community rituals in the guachimontones and the ballcourts, and they would have been frequently challenged.

Extending the Approach Outwards

The combination of imagery and archaeological data make it possible to imbue static architectural remains with some of the meanings associated with activities there. This presents an opportunity to unpack the social practices at different ceremonial centers and assess how they changed over time. Instead of employing a settlement hierarchy that ranks centers by their aggregated population, architectural volume, and so on (Ohnersorgen and Varien 1996), we can instead conceptualize the webs of related practices that linked some settlements and not others in heterarchical fashion (Crumley 1979). The cultural landscape takes on a different appearance, with multiple nodes where different forms of political strategies are more or less evident.

Over the course of 30 years, Weigand’s (1993) survey of the Tequila valleys identified the Teuchitlán culture and mapped the central architecture of many ceremonial centers. Weigand’s survey was most detailed in the southern valleys, and his work in the surrounding areas is being superseded by more systematic approaches (e.g., Anderson et al. 2013; Heredia Espinoza 2008). I focus my reconsideration primarily on the southern Tequila valleys, where Weigand recorded 38 ceremonial centers assigned to the long span from 300 BC to AD 500. Since Weigand did not collect or analyze ceramic surface collections, these sites will need to be reexamined in the near future to better situate them within the ceramic chronology (Beekman and Weigand 2008). This analysis is therefore quite rough, and my discussion of temporal change is limited to those sites that can be placed within the ceramic sequence or dated directly through radiocarbon dates from excavations.

Statics

First, the southern Tequila valleys display a cluster of 38 ceremonial centers within 26 square miles. Ohnersorgen and Varien (1996) took a standard perspective that used the total volume of public architecture to divide these centers into four hierarchical levels labeled A–D (figure 3.5). Los Guachimontones is the only A site, with 10 circles, two ballcourts, and no shaft tombs. I consider the C site of Loma Alta lying only a short distance up the hill to be part of the same site and would add seven circles, two ballcourts, a large residential group, and substantial architectural volume to Los Guachimontones as a consequence (Blanco 2009:figures 3.4, 3.12; duVall 2007:figure C.32; Smith Marquez 2009). The only B site within the southern Tequila valleys is Ahualulco, lagging far behind with a ballcourt and six circles (Weigand 1993:88). All other ceremonial centers within the southern concentration of rural settlement are much smaller C and D sites, with usually only one or two circles and perhaps a ballcourt. The map showing the settlement pattern based on site-size hierarchy emphasizes the centrality of Loma Alta/Los Guachimontones, and how sites of the next tier extend its reach into the rest of the Tequila valleys.

Figure 3.5. Map of the Tequila valleys, Jalisco, with sites identified by site-size hierarchy.

If we interpret this settlement pattern using social institutions rather than sites, we obtain a different understanding of the political landscape. The guachimontones and ballcourts are overwhelmingly concentrated in the southern valleys, and this is also where we find the greatest evidence for architectural conformity. All the ceremonial centers have guachimontones as the minimal civic architectural unit—no sites possess only the large residences and/or ballcourts. Large residential groups that were probably elite in nature and potentially associated with one or more of the very highest ranking families are only found in the primate center—Loma Alta/Los Guachimontones. The only other mapped sites with the large residential groups lie outside of the southern Tequila valleys. These are either B sites (Navajas [Beekman 2005:figure 4.4]; Santa Quiteria [Weigand 1993:87]) or a C site that is the head of its own isolated settlement cluster (Huitzilapa [Weigand 1993:191]), and it may therefore have been the head of an independent polity, something not predicted on the basis of site size alone. Furthermore, there are some places where descent groups may have been successful in consolidating their authority relative to other groups around a circle. The proposed evidence is a guachimontón with a single oversized satellite platform that dwarfs the others. These locations—Navajas circle 4, Huitzilapa Cerro de las Navajas circle A, and Santa Rosalia circle A (Beekman 2005:figure 4.4; Weigand 1993:191; Weigand and García de Weigand 1997:56)—are all outside of the southern Tequila valley settlement core and are once again B sites or the C site that was the head of its own isolated cluster. Finally, the only centers known to have the elite shaft tombs beneath public architecture are C or D centers (El Arenal, Cerro de los Monos, Huitzilapa, Resumidero, and San Andrés [Beekman 1996:159–164, figure 4.4; Long 1966:248–278, figures 8–10; Ramos de la Vega and López Mestas Camberos 1996:126–129, figures 3, 4, 12; Weigand and Beekman 1998:40, figures 8, 9]), and only one lies within the southern valleys.

The picture emerging from the distribution of distinctive spaces as opposed to sites suggests that the southern Tequila valley settlement zone constituted the most corporate area within these valleys. The south includes less indication of divergence from the corporate ideal and less evidence for descent group ceremonialism within the ceremonial centers; a large residential group is found only at the largest site in the zone (figure 3.6). Descent group aggrandizement and successful attempts to elevate one group over the others are notably limited to the more peripheral areas of the Tequila valleys. The site of Huitzilapa shows the greatest divergence from the corporate ideal of the south, but all of the significant centers in the periphery show similar evidence. This may point to the political independence of these distant centers, but it would be most appropriate to state that the corporate cognitive code (Blanton 1998a:163–166; see also Fargher, chapter 15, this volume) was being challenged on the outer edges of the Tequila valleys. Why? Was it merely the distance factor that strained the ability of the Teuchitlán polity to enforce social conformity and dampen lineage aggrandizement?

Figure 3.6. Map with locations of sites with large residential groups, shaft tombs under public architecture, and guachimontones with one oversized platform.

Variations in economic organization may be more likely. Blanton and Fargher’s comparative analysis of the relative role of collective action across their sample of 30 premodern polities (Blanton and Fargher 2008:chapter 6, table 10.3) found that

Or stated in a different way, when elites are able to develop external sources of revenue, they are better able to ignore commoner demands and pursue their own agendas (see Webster 1975:465–466 for the same argument tied specifically to the spoils of warfare). This proposal may have merit for explaining variations in the political landscape of the Teuchitlán polity. The southern valleys include broad zones of quality agricultural soils today exploited primarily for sugar cane. I have argued previously that the dispersed residential pattern through the southern valleys would have been most appropriate for shifting cultivation of maize and associated crops in the precolumbian period (Beekman and Baden 2011), while the guachimontones themselves are associated through ritual and morphology with maize symbolism (Beekman 2003a, b). The northern and western valleys with most of the built space linked to lineage aggrandizement are environmentally distinct. West of the Tequila volcano is the Magdalena Lake Basin (Anderson et al. 2013), where the presence of lacustrine resources and more limited agricultural land would surely have altered the underlying subsistence economy. The rolling and often rocky agave landscape north of the Tequila volcano is hotter, has lower annual precipitation, and cultivation is today dedicated overwhelmingly to the blue agave (Heredia Espinoza 2008; Ojeda Gastélum, Benz, and López Mestas 2008). Although this may point to different bases for the subsistence economy and are still potentially internal sources of revenue, their correspondence with the architectural evidence is suggestive. It may be that elites in the peripheral zones of the Tequila valleys successfully redefined land tenure or resource ownership in areas with different potential productivity. As survey progresses through the Tequila valleys, the distribution of residential settlement will need to receive close attention to evaluate this proposal.

Dynamics

A prior synthesis of the chronological data in the Tequila valleys found that the largest guachimontón temples are radiocarbon dated to the period prior to AD 200, after which only small additions and maintenance continued to take place (Beekman and Weigand 2008). Those circles whose construction could be dated to after AD 200 were all within Smith Marquez’s (2009) smallest categories. Furthermore, the shaft tombs declined in size and in the abundance of offerings (e.g., Galván Villegas 1991), suggesting a shift in individual loyalties away from descent groups (see also Fargher, chapter 15, this volume). I interpreted this and other evidence to indicate that descent group ceremonialism and aggrandizement were failing to reproduce the conditions of its own existence, while more centers in Jalisco and further abroad were adopting the circular architecture and its corporate rituals (Beekman 2007). Smaller communities were probably swapping descent group ceremonialism for community rituals, and community or even polity membership may have successfully replaced lineage membership as a primary axis of individual identity. The existing chronological data thus show a different trend from the spatial data, and further temporal refinements will be critical for testing these proposals.

Discussion and Conclusions

Richard Blanton’s research has provided archaeologists with useful tools for the study of political organization. I have chosen to highlight here distinctive contributions of the corporate-exclusionary continuum and collective action theory, both of which continue to be fruitfully tapped by archaeologists (Carballo 2013; Daneels and Gutiérrez Mendoza 2012). Each approach was developed to further the investigation of political authority and in particular the limits on that authority, though they draw inspiration from different disciplines and different theoretical bases, and may be most useful when applied to different scales of analysis and using different types of data. In this case study, the association of different political interests with archaeologically recognizable spaces provided the entry point for a more in-depth analysis of the field of power as a component of the broader landscape. Blanton’s theoretical research on local strategies was combined with his interests in survey and regional settlement patterns for a more rich understanding of political action and its spatial variation. My foray in this direction was limited by the weak chronological and spatial data set for central Jalisco, but portrays the southern Tequila valleys as a strongly corporate system during the Late Formative/Early Classic when evaluated by forms of built space that structured political interaction rather than by entire sites.

The corporate-exclusionary continuum has been applied by many (including myself [Beekman 2000]) at the scale of entire polities and societies, but the authors of the original model perceived that what was critical was the separation (be it temporal or spatial) of strategies. Tying the strategies to Bourdieu’s field concept highlights the different pathways to power within polities, and not just between them. The guachimontón temples and the often appended ballcourts were the most strongly dedicated of built spaces to the enactment of inclusive community ceremonies. The ceremonies that can be associated with each of these architectural forms celebrated maize and agricultural success, reenacted cosmic myths, and built community through feasting. Descent groups or individuals would have had opportunities to enhance their status, but the overarching setting in which the activities took place would have dampened or suppressed most attempts to capitalize upon a well-performed ceremony or deftly executed ball play. The primary occasion on which a descent group could openly express their own importance and dramatize their status and accomplishments was in public mortuary ritual. Funeral processions appear to have passed through the patios of the circles on the way to their destination, so the total separation of these spaces is impossible. And we must note that the circles and ballcourts could encompass a degree of conflict when the actions of individuals were acknowledged within the more group-oriented rituals, just as teams and individual players each receive their accolades in modern sports. Further work with the corporate-exclusionary model will need to evaluate not only the relative presence of each strategy but also the number of pathways present that make use of one or the other, as this internal heterogeneity is a defining component of complex society (Ferguson and Mansbach 1996; McGuire 1983).

Translating these interpretations to the regional settlement pattern data identified clear variation on the political landscape that may be explained using insights from the collective action perspective. The polity based in the more corporate southern Tequila valleys was probably associated with a maize-centered subsistence economy that provided the primary source of revenue for the Teuchitlán principals. This internal source of funding should have made elites less independent of commoners and required principals to reciprocate with more in the way of public goods, such as feasting. The peripheral and more lightly populated corners of the Tequila valleys provided opportunities for more exclusionary strategies that aggrandized descent groups and allowed transformation in the norms of the south. Following one of the key insights of collective action theory, it is likely that there were differences in the form of resource ownership and land tenure between these areas that made them external sources of revenue—elites had in essence succeeded in redefining the boundaries of the political field and its basis in capital. With access to resources that provided some measure of freedom from commoner influence, elites would have had greater opportunity to aggrandize family lines, build large residences, and so on. Ongoing surveys in the northern and western valleys promise to allow testing of these interpretations in the not too distant future.

Acknowledgments. I would like to thank Lane Fargher and Verenice Heredia for their invitation to participate in this homage to the work of Richard Blanton. I would also like to thank Rich for his stimulating contributions to the discipline, whether or not he entirely agrees with the way I have chosen to use them. Lane, Vere, Rich, and two anonymous reviewers graciously provided advice that improved this chapter. This chapter draws upon research supported by the National Science Foundation, the University of Colorado Denver, and the Foundation for Ancient Mesoamerican Studies, Inc.