The discussion of coin finds in the European periphery and the light they throw on the nature of the Roman socio-economic complex is the most interesting part of this paper for me, because it is somewhat analogous to the relations of western Europe with west Africa in the 19th and early colonial 20th centuries. But this commentary steps over into the vast field of classical archaeology that is unfamiliar to me and instead of pursuing this analogy I find it more comfortable to make a few more general remarks on the use of social anthropological ideas and questions of method.

This reaction to the Paul Newson and Ruth Young paper entitled ‘Post-conflict ethics, archaeology and archaeological heritage. A call for discussion’ (Archaeological dialogues, 2022) supports the call for a discussion regarding archaeological ethics in post-conflict zones. Following the agreement on the fuzzy border between the state of ‘conflict’ and ‘post-conflict’, it reflects on the continuity between these two. Furthermore, the reaction adds an additional issue to the discussion, which is the ethical ground of ‘being above the conflict’. Applying a ‘holistic ethic’ approach, it reflects on the ethical assessment of archaeological practices performed by Russian archaeologists in the zones that were damaged during conflict, escalated due to the actions of the Russian government. A series of examples are shown to consider the complexity of ethical judgements in this particular case. Last but not least, the reaction claims that in some cases ethical judgements are possible and effective due to the convergence of numerous factors.

Richard Bradley was critical of the hesitation he saw in British archaeology towards the use of the interpretive category ‘votive deposit’. The artefacts were instead interpreted in practical terms, as lost things or hidden treasures. This was published in 1990 in The passage of arms. Since then, or – as Garrow shows – since the mid-1980s, much has happened. Garrow has reacted against what he calls the hyperinterpretive turn in archaeology, where almost every patterning of material culture is regarded as intentional and symbolic. Instead, or as a complement, he wants to see a more developed discussion about material culture patterning as a result of everyday practices that just happen, without an attached symbolic meaning, but still varied and variable. So, is it time for the pendulum to swing back?

We thank the four commentators – Åsa Berggren, Barbara Helwing, Barbara Mills, and Allan Maca – for their thoughtfully critical comments and cannot help but feel encouraged by the passion displayed in their comments. To an extent underrealized in our initial formulation, the recording and interpretation of stratigraphy forms the jugular vein of archaeological practice. Although accused by some of the commentators of not offering anything new, creating a straw man, or ignoring artefacts, we note that our discussion of social stratigraphy encouraged reflexivity about archaeological practice in all four commentaries. Our initial pulling together of social practices that might be expressed in patterns of depositing and cutting also sparked extremely productive and creative dialogue regarding the documentation and interpretation of stratigraphy, a virtual (and highly successful) simulation that employed our proposed ‘toolkit’, and worrisome questions regarding the lack of fit between social theory and archaeological technique within the Americanist tradition. We address these topics, particularly in light of commentators' demonstration of the importance of reflexive practices within archaeology.

This article explores the concept of authenticity of rock, place and stone tools in the Mesolithic. It uses results from a recent pXRF analysis on a selection of greenstone adzes predominantly originating from a delimited area on the western coast of south Norway as its point of departure. The results show that, although the majority of the 80 analysed adzes were made of greenstone from one specific source, eight clearly stemmed from local outcrops away from this one source area. The quantitative geochemical data are not presented in detail. Instead, the focus is on the social significance of these stone objects and their sources as indicated by the results. I argue that the anomalies demonstrate an acknowledged social value placed on stone from a dedicated source area; they represent deliberate attempts to manipulate perception and thus replicate a specific social affinity. Emphasizing perception and appearance, I consider adzes of green stone as assemblages of knowledge, skill, place and social memory – as desirable objects that enhanced a feeling of belonging and social identity – and I question whether this means that people in the Mesolithic recognized and acknowledged something as authentic.

I should start by saying how refreshing it is to see Mycenaean pottery, a body of material discussed usually in terms of ever more refined and accurately dated typological sequences, being examined in its context and in the light of a sophisticated theoretical approach.

I am sitting at my computer with a purring cat resting its head against the keyboard – a real animal–animal situation and a reciprocal relationship. For 15 years, my wife and I looked after horses that our children had left behind when they moved off into the world. The reason was that the horses belonged, in their own way, to the extended family. So I have no difficulty understanding what Overton and Hamilakis call ‘social zooarchaeology’. As a pet owner who has personally observed the individuality of animals – from hens to horses – I have no problem accepting their view that animals are individuals, something that my urban colleagues often question. When discussing with hunters who have specialized for many years in one type of hunting, they can describe how different individuals in flocks – for example, among red deer and moose – can behave. They spend many hours moving in the terrain and observe the different animal species, not to hunt them but to acquire further knowledge about the animals, sometimes to find out which animals should later be culled, but often only for the sheer pleasure of feeling a kind of relationship between themselves and the animals they follow.

I would like to thank Michel Christol, John Creighton, Louise Revell and Peter Wells for their stimulating comments on the two articles under discussion by Greg Woolf and myself. Since Christol and Wells mainly confine themselves to remarks on the cultural changes in Interior Gaul, my reply will focus on Revell and Creighton's critical comments on my paper. The most provoking of these, to me, was the term ‘story-telling’, as used by Revell. It is not, on first thoughts, a desirable designation for articles with a certain theoretical ambition. After all, the term evokes associations with the narrative traditions of the ‘pre-theoretical’ phase of Roman archaeology (Laurence 2001). This kind of story-telling does not belong in a theoretical journal such as Archaeological dialogues.

I am happy to see that my essay has generated a lively discussion, and am most grateful to the respondents for their insightful contributions. Their comments express varying levels of agreement regarding the agency of things. Vernon Scarborough revisits anxieties about whether agency implies intentionality. Using the term ‘agency’ is indeed problematic if we assume that it entails sentience or intentionality (and I do not), but if we define it more precisely as a capacity to act (upon), it is possible to excise intentionality from the equation. This simultaneously allows us to acknowledge the agentive capacities of things without proposing or implying a form of faux animism. Anthropology has indeed drawn imaginatively on specifically cultural beliefs and knowledges, for example in composing more relational visions of human–other interactions than Western science tends to allow (see Strang 2006a), but this is not tantamount to assuming that things contain spiritual presence, or have ‘their own sense of agency’.

Mark Pluciennik has presented us with an excellent and original piece of research. His conclusion that the current categorisation of pre-industrial societies into hunter-gatherers and farmers is, effectively, a modern invention represents a continuation of his earlier investigations into this subject (1998; 2001). He supports this conclusion with very convincing arguments, and offers a historically contingent explanation in terms of the coalescence of several ideological and economic ‘currents’ which, in the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, led to the establishment of a categorical distinction between ‘savage hunter-gatherers’ and ‘civilised farmers’. In my comment, I would like to focus on two issues, broadly following the structure of his paper: (1) in general terms, are we really dealing with yet another ‘invented tradition’, spawned by the need for an ideological justification for the supremacy of western capitalist ideology and economic order? (2) How do we categorise early farming, fishing, hunting and gathering communities in the past, if at all?

It is always intriguing, and occasionally horrifying, to see what one has written refracted through another person's eyes. This is all the more so in academic writing, in which people often become identified with (or even fashion themselves into icons of) a given idea, and the act of refraction adds a political or positional hue. Meditating on this fact gives us a starting point for a brief exemplary consideration of agency.

The retraction of the archaeological research perspective away from big questions and its fragmentation into national, local or even site-specific perspectives, as documented by Kristian Kristiansen, is by no means inexplicable. However, this closing of the archaeological mind can only be adequately understood and countered by viewing it in its wider historical context.

For a third time, Archaeological dialogues has organized a face-to-face dialogue at an international conference around a current and provocative question. At the annual meeting for the Society of American Archaeologists in Atlanta, USA, in April 2009, Archaeological dialogues invited a panel of leading scholars to participate in a discussion forum entitled ‘Is archaeology useful?’. The discussion sought to address a number of interrelated questions: how important is the criterion of ‘usefulness’ in establishing the value of our discipline? To whom do we need to justify ourselves? In what ways can or should archaeology be useful to society? Must archaeologists distinguish between critique and action, and balance knowledge production and public consumption of our work? Does it really matter what we do and for whom? Shannon Dawdy presented her thoughts in a keynote address which was followed by comments from Carol McDavid, Peggy Nelson, Mark Pluciennik, Jeremy Sabloff, Joe Watkins and Rita Wright. The keynote address, along with the comments that arose from the forum, are published in this issue as a discussion article. The written version of this dialogue also includes comments by Pedro Funari with Aline Vieira de Carvalho, Cornelius Holtorf and Ulrike Sommer, who were invited to share their views on the topic and broaden the scope of the debate.

I am totally for the archaeology in and of the present that Rodney Harrison defends in his powerful text. In fact, I have defended a similar idea elsewhere, although in a rather less eloquent and straightforward way. I have suggested that we could transform ethnoarchaeology, an archaeological subdiscipline that already deals with the present, into a true ‘archaeology of the present . . . that . . . deals with people that are alive and things that are in full use, and which accepts that all presents are entangled with a diversity of pasts in a percolating time’ (González-Ruibal 2006a, 112). With the author, I think that archaeological engagements should not be reduced to the past – understood as something remote and finished: archaeology can be a very creative way of dealing with the present, and even of transforming it. I also coincide with Harrison in considering that the archaeology of the contemporary past is less harassed than we tend to think and that we should be less anxious in defending ourselves against possible attackers and focusing more on creating exciting work.

Pillatt's research provides exactly the type of critique needed to stimulate debate surrounding the role of archaeology and history in climate studies. The perceptive micro-scale deconstruction of weather, landscape and people in early modern Mosser highlights the precarious disjuncture between the human experience of weather and the processes of climate variability. However, I am certainly a lot more optimistic and positive about the role that archaeology and history have to play in this debate and will perhaps provide a more macro-scale contribution to this particular archaeological dialogue. I would argue that the time-depth of human experience will always be essential in offering context and understanding to individual weather events and longer-term climate variability.

Presumably it is because I work at Çatalhöyük, a site referred to in just about every publication on ritual in the prehistoric Near East, that I have been asked to respond to Verhoeven's stimulating and thoughtful paper. It is certainly welcome to see an approach to ritual practice in the prehistoric Near East from a comparative and anthropological perspective rather than one in thrall to the search for origins of much later religious practices - as the discoverer of Çatalhöyük, James Mellaart (1965a, 77) puts it, ‘a cult of the Mother Goddess, the basis of our civilization’. At Çatalhöyük the debate has been dominated by the discourse of the goddess to the extent that other interpretations have been excluded, often subconsciously, so strong is this metanarrative (Meskell 1995). For instance, recent virtual reality reconstructions still depict the buildings as austere, atmospheric shrines rather than busy, smoky, dirty places of domestic work and (often rather restricted) movement. In a paper cited by Verhoeven I suggested that in order to counter this we should concentrate less on the iconography of the Çatalhöyük images and more on the mode of their experience and consumption (Last 1998). It is the need for an explicitly contextual consideration of meaning that forms my main criticism of the present paper. While a lot of detail is presented about the deposits found in the Burnt Village, the citing of various parallels from sites not necessarily greatly connected in time and space ultimately leaves a sense of vagueness, particularly in attempting to assimilate the fascinating clay ‘monsters’ to a widespread Near Eastern ritual interest in horns. In this contribution I wish to discuss the problems of interpreting the unique, offer some thoughts on how to get at the meaning and significance of these objects, and conclude by mentioning a recently discovered deposit from Çatalhöyük which raises similar issues.

I find myself largely in sympathy with what Rodney Harrison is trying to do. In applying an archaeological sensibility to the contemporary world, it becomes increasingly clear that the habitual tropes of archaeological practice either do not work, or need to be rethought and reconfigured. Equally, I think that this reassessment of archaeological theory and methodology can have a wider epistemological value for the discipline in general. The tropes of ruin and excavation are particularly salient in this context, in that they do not entirely work in the understanding of the contemporary. However, there are points at which I diverge from Harrison, particularly with respect to what we mean by modernity, and especially in terms of the limitations of his concern with surfaces.

Gavin Lucas questions whether Ian Hodder's analysis of the ‘entanglements’ between humans and many other things necessarily assumes an inherent asymmetry. The quick answer is that it is more than likely, and we might wonder why Lucas thinks that this is a problem. The recent ‘ontological turn’ in archaeology has sought to treat the differences between all things ‘symmetrically’ and ‘without a priori subsuming them into an asymmetrical regime of radical divides’ (Olsen and Witmore 2015, 188). One such radical divide would be between living things (such as humans) and non-living things (such as hammers): it is the potential asymmetry across this divide that Lucas seems to want to avoid.

The title of the Round Table at the 2007 EAA meetings in Zadar triggered a déjà vu, taking me back to 1984 when archaeologists in the then Yugoslavia, at the occasion of the 12th Congress of the Association of Yugoslav Archaeological Societies in Novi Sad, organized a discussion with a very similar topic centred around two principal questions – ‘does Yugoslav archaeology exist?’ and ‘what is Yugoslav archaeology?’. One may argue that the context, political and national, differs much from the context in which the EAA's Round Table was organized, but the core dilemma remains the same – can we speak of a united or integrated discipline of archaeology in a multinational and multiethnic political framework, and what are the perspectives of such a discipline under the actual social and historical conditions in Europe?

Mark Pluciennik's paper offers an insightful review of those seventeenth-century philosophical issues that influence archaeological theory, even today. I am in broad agreement on the significance of the seventeenth century, though I prefer to see that century as a prelude to the eighteenth. To my mind, it is only in the eighteenth century that hunter-gatherers become ‘invented’ in a form that is fully recognisable in modern archaeological terms (Barnard 2002a). In this commentary I shall concentrate on that issue with reference to Pluciennik's ‘six inter-related factors’, commenting but briefly where appropriate on his attempt to ‘write across’ boundaries through his example of the interpretation of the mesolithic-neolithic transition.