While not a formal comment on Kristiansen's discussion paper, this brief note was written and submitted to Archaeological dialogues by a participant in the discussions between the Zadar Round Table speakers and the audience.

When I agreed to present the article as a vehicle for discussion at a session at the EAA's annual meeting in Zadar, Croatia, I decided to approach the question of a European archaeology from what I considered to be the three organizing pillars of archaeological practice: heritage, theory and publications. Heritage is the dominant organizational/legislative framework for archaeological practice, and it is where most of the money is spent. Theory, on the other hand, organizes most of our interpretations of the past, while publications are still the most common way of presenting the results of both heritage work (mostly excavations) and interpretations of that work. In this way I hoped to have encircled the dominant parameters for a diagnosis of the archaeological landscapes in Europe. I assumed that there might be some correlation between the three, and that such observed common trends within two or more variables would strengthen the argument, to paraphrase processual jargon.

Aarts's argument revolves around three binaries: formalist and substantivist approaches to the study of the ancient economy, narrow economy-centered and broader culture-centered assessments of money use, and long-term and short-term transactional orders. Binary opposites play a critical role in our construction of the world, and consequently provide potent rhetorical tools for structuring an argument and especially for demarcating the novel and imaginative from the old and staid. At the same time, while this arrangement helps to define ideal types, it also runs the risk of obscuring what the debate is really about.

Nevett, Sharples and Vellinga have commented on my paper in a heartening and inspiring way, and I would like to thank them for their comments of agreement as well as for the points of criticism that they raise. In my reply I will attempt to engage in discussion by addressing a few of their issues. Two points of my paper that appear to have created some confusion, notably in Vellinga's comment, may be dealt with first of all. With regard to the timing of the construction of a house, I did not intend to suggest – as hopefully the diagram of figure 2 makes clear – that new houses were always built subsequent to the abandonment of an old one. In fact, in the case of wandering farmsteads I would envisage this as the exception rather than the rule. This may seem a minor point, but it has some relevance to the topic of variability that I will address below. The other point of confusion concerns the ulterior aims of the paper and the biographical approach, which Vellinga takes as explaining the long-term transformation of the settlement patterns. I would not want to claim that the notion of a cultural biography in itself has enough explanatory force in this respect, and in the introduction I described it as a way of taking a first step along the road towards a more balanced understanding. The aims of the paper were precisely that, but Vellinga certainly makes a valid point in raising the issue of explaining long-term changes, and it deserves further consideration.

Nathan Schlanger's entry point into the history of South African prehistory may be read as an academic coup de poing, a sharp fist strike designed to cleave its way into the archaeological establishment; yet, like the examples of such ‘palaeoliths’ that so fascinated earlier prehistorians, the object of study may require further contextualization and understanding in order to yield up its wider meanings.

Archaeologists are prone to retrospection. In 1974 Gordon Willey edited a book in which a series of writers looked back over their most famous projects. Some of their contributions were both revealing and frank but in other cases, I suspect, the authors were trying to write themselves into history. It can be dangerous to retrace our steps over the same intellectual ground, but we may still want to attempt this so that we can come to terms with unfinished business. We study some problems which will not let us go. This paper considers a typical example.

In this elegant and wide-ranging essay, Hamilakis and Yalouri have offered us a sophisticated analysis of the utilisation of the ancient past in modern Greece. They have traced the powerful political connection between images of the past and contemporary political structures. They have described how different modalities of veneration have been conscripted for this task. Yet I want to offer a few conceptual clarifications and highlight some possible alternative social contexts that may – I hope – strengthen the central points that they make. These concern a tendency to reify ‘religion’ (specifically in this case specifically Greek Orthodoxy as a unitary phenomenon) and to privilege nationalism as the only socio-political behaviour that actively utilises the cultural capital of archaeology. The two points are closely related. For while the nationalistic use of archaeology may mimic the external forms and even literary topoi of religious veneration, State and Church are potentially competing power structures within a particular society. In many places, the cultural tensions between State and Church (or between rival States and Churches) are becoming increasingly intense. The recognition of those tensions may help us more effectively to problematise—to use Hamilakis and Yalouri's phrase—the socio-politics of archaeology.

Eric Lohof's study of funerary practices in the later Neolithic and Bronze Age of the north-eastern Netherlands provides a welcome reassessment of this material. Its broad scope and its grounding in a theoretical consideration of mortuary ritual are to be applauded. Any criticisms which I have to raise here should therefore be seen as caveats to a more general agreement with its objectives and conclusions.

I would like to thank the commenters for spending their time on critical and constructive responses to my paper ‘Performing towns’. The comments add valuable insights, knowledge, viewpoints and ideas, which significantly elucidate the possibilities as well as the limitations of approaching medieval urban communities from a social-practice theoretical perspective (SPT). The commenters have pointed at theoretical questions too superficially treated, the need for a more extensive knowledge base and, most importantly, the need for a broader discussion of the methodological and empirical consequences of an SPT approach in analysing everyday life in a Scandinavian urban community based on archaeological empirical data. Rather than giving individual feedback, I instead centre my reply around four topics that the commenters have raised and which relate closely to the paper's paramount issue and development potential.

Jean and John Comaroff's paper provides an elegant narrative describing the processes at work behind the adoption of coinage amongst the Tswana of southern Africa under the influence of European missionaries and colonists. My own particular interests are set back two thousand years earlier with the adoption of coin in France and Britain. At this time Rome was the up-and-coming imperial power engaged in trade, and then conquest, stretching its area of influence and dominions from the Mediterranean littoral into temperate Europe. As such I envy the Comaroff's ability to use a rich array of source material that is unavailable to me with my much poorer archaeological remains and fragmentary literary sources. None the less, many of the themes have echoes of processes that must have taken place many years before in this other time and place.

In 1922 Carter Woodson lay a brief but nevertheless sweeping foundation for a history of captivity that reached into the earliest recesses of the classical world. Invoking the classical paragons of democracy, Woodson argued (1922, 15) that slavery

In this dialogue, Hodder and Lucas skilfully manoeuvre the winding trails of archaeological theory during the last decades and critically juxtapose the discussion of symmetry and asymmetry of relations between entities with that of entanglement. Their provocative dialogue compellingly leads to the conclusion that most entanglements are in fact asymmetrical. Whereas I mostly concur with the conclusions of the dialogue, addressing the authors’ closing statements I would like to highlight the need to equally (in some ways, symmetrically) consider disentanglement as the process opposite to entanglement, along with the consequences of such disentanglement. If we are to understand better the contexts and politics of entanglements – concerns that this dialogue brings to the fore – I furthermore suggest that we more closely scrutinize the density (quantity) and joining (quality) of entanglements, as well as pay closer attention to memory, emotion and affect in entanglements.

Lohof's paper represents an interesting and important attempt to analyse and interpret Late Neolithic and earlier Bronze Age burial practices in the Netherlands. His suggestions are of wide relevance, not least because the phenomena he discusses were widely distributed over much of Europe. In what follows I wish to raise a number of issues which I think need clarifying, in order to elicit his response.

Harm Tjalling Waterbolk (1924) is regarded, together with Pieter J.R. Modderman (1919) and Willem Glasbergen (1923–1979), as the direct inheritor of the founder of Dutch archaeology Albert Egges van Giffen (1884–1973). From the middle of the 1950s, after Van Giffen's retirement, this troika shaped the rapidly growing academic archaeology in the Netherlands. Until well into the 1970s and 1980s they occupied the most prominent chairs at the universities of Groningen, Leiden and Amsterdam. One look at Waterbolk's impressive list of publications (almost exclusively articles) tells us that for half a century he has been an authoritative participant in developments in Dutch archaeology. He has been involved, directly or indirectly, in the modernization of excavation practices, in changes in the organization of academic education and research, in the introduction of new methods and techniques and in shifts in theory and interpretation. He has made a valuable contribution to the development of large-scale settlement research, to the shaping of the Dutch legal foundation of university education (the study of prehistory in the Academisch Statuut), to the expansion of palynological research and the C14 method, and to the conceptualization of long-term continuity in the spatial organization of historical communities. His work is interesting because of the blending of a scientific interest in the history of the cultural landscape and a committed and critical involvement with the protection of such. Enough reasons to interview him ten years after his retirement. We meet Waterbolk in Meppel, a small town in south-west Drenthe, on one of the few hot days in the summer of 1996. It has been agreed that we will first pay a short visit to his birthplace in Havelte and to Van Giffen's grave in Diever. Before long it becomes clear that during the tour a web of named places and paths is gradually unfolding, each with its own historical tale and associated with personal memories. The afternoon is spent in the area between Balloo and Rolde, 5 kilometres east of Assen, the capital of the province of Drenthe. This area, which has an un-Dutch concentration of still existing and visible megalithic tombs, burial mounds, Celtic fields, and prehistoric roads, has recently become the subject of Waterbolk's interest (Waterbolk 1994a, and in press b).

In my opinion, Slofstra's description of the recent developments in Dutch archaeology can be characterized as a rather subjective narratio of a small episode in the history of science by a participant observer. It is only in the last sentence of his paper that he – rather obligatorily – acknowledges his position. Primarily, the article is a compilation of personal experiences, memories and convictions based on a thorough study of the literature, but lacking interviews with the principal characters. It is very much a private account, even to such an extent that it would not be difficult for anyone involved in Dutch archaeology to point out the author. The paper tells us as much about Slofstra as about the history of archaeology and presents a very personal view on the development of our discipline: the disqualification of the cultural-historical approach persisting into the eighties, the myth of the deliverance by the ‘Historical-Anthropological Approach’, together with the uncritical reiteration of the greatness of Van Giffen, and the ‘conspiracy scenario’ towards the ‘academic establishment’ which can retard everything except demographical processes.

I am grateful to Håkan Karlsson for his thoughtful commentary on some of the issues concerning Heidegger and archaeology which were raised in a previous issue of this journal, and find myself fascinated by his project of a ‘contemplative archaeology’. However, one or two points of clarification could be made in relation to Karlsson's contribution. Firstly, as a number of authors have pointed out (e.g. Anderson 1966, 20; Olafson 1993), the gulf between Heidegger's early work and that which followed the Kehre may have been more apparent than real. While his focus may have shifted from the Being of one particular kind of being (Dasein) to a history of Being (Dreyfus 1992), the continuities in his thought are more striking. Throughout his career, Heidegger was concerned with the category of Being, and the way in which it had been passed over by the western philosophical tradition. It is important to note that in Being and time the analysis of Dasein essentially serves as an heuristic: the intention is to move from an understanding of the Being of one kind of being to that of Being in general. What complicates the issue is the very unusual structure of this specific kind of being, for Heidegger did not choose to begin his analysis with the Being of shoes or stones, but with a kind of creature which has a unique relationship with all other worldly entities. ‘Dasein’ serves as a kind of code for ‘human being’ which enables Heidegger to talk about the way in which human beings exist on earth, rather than becoming entangled in biological or psychological definitions of humanity. In this formulations, what is distinctive about human beings is that their own existence is an issue for them; Dasein cares, and this caring is fundamentally temporal.