Hofmann and Stockhammer provide an exhaustive and informative overview of German-speaking archaeology (GSA) seen through a set of theoretical lenses that, as they readily admit, may leave other equally important trends in the dark. I shall therefore provide a slightly different perspective, and highlight some interpretive trends that received less coverage in their exposition. Again, it is based on my selective reading of German archaeology, which includes only part of the bibliography of Hofmann and Stockhammer, but then some other works as well. In conclusion I shall discuss what I consider one of the major obstacles for GSA to reach theoretical maturity and a wider international impact.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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?

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 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’.

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.

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.

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.

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?

This paper is an attempt to understand how people, in the daily practice of interacting with material culture, created, dealt with and interpreted complex and socially stressful historical processes. A 16th-century timber-framed burgher house, the Reformation and industrialization are the focus of attention. Today the house stands in a museum of cultural history in the south Scandinavian town of Lund, but it once was built in the nearby city of Malmö. Through studies of architecture and spatial analysis, as well as studies of alterations to the house and its surroundings, the biography of the house is followed back to its physical and mental origins. The architecture as well as changes in its appearance can be understood by the use of space as well as the concept of topophilia. The paper ends by relating results to contemporary sociological theories. It is argued that humans structure society through material culture, history (remembrance) and space.

Gavin Lucas has returned to the theme of archaeological time, which has long interested him, and, in this paper, to contemporaneousness in archaeology. For a historian, contemporaneousness is a straightforward matter. The First World War and the Russian Revolution, for example, are considered contemporaneous because the two events took place during the same period of time. Both significantly influenced the course of 20th-century history and influenced each other as well. But for an archaeologist, the very notion of chronology is fundamentally problematic. We date an archaeological object or feature on the basis of morphological attributes that allow us to estimate the time during which it was created. In other words, a historical date (the actual date when some vestige came to be) corresponds, in archaeology, to a probable length of time. Archaeological time floats.

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.

Under the title Triumphal procession from the blind alley, the German magazine Der Spiegel in the autumn of 1995 published a series of articles on the latest developments in the archaeology of Homo sapiens and its ancestors. These articles focus on mankind's evolution, and its relationship to the capacities of mankind's mind and culture. The question is posed: Did the prevailing circumstances force mankind to develop its mental abilities, or did evolution plant the seeds of culture in the brain of Homo sapiens? As soon as we hear a question like this, we have the suspicion that its rests on a shaky metaphysical foundation: the distinction between natural evolution on the one hand, and mind, culture, art, myth, religion, and language on the other.

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.

An interview with Evžen Neustupný opens up a range of issues regarding the theory and history of archaeology and its development in Central Europe. His view of the discipline differs in many ways from that of current global trends. His ‘artefact archaeology’ inverts the concept of adaptation and highlights the role of artefacts in the creation of the human world. The interview also shows that post-war archaeology even to the east of the Iron Curtain followed the trajectory from culture-history paradigm to processualism and onwards. It also testifies to the situation in the social sciences under the Communist regime and the ambiguous role of Marxist philosophy.

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.