Zachary Chase and Steven Kosiba (with introduction, and editorial and substantive
contributions from Alan Kolata).
University of Chicago
The concept of “lo andino” has become an intellectual Procrustean bed in which
Andeanists seem obligated to lie. This seems particularly true of those of us exploring the
historical dimensions of Andean cultural experience, though ethnographers of the
contemporary are by no means liberated from the confines of this comfortable, yet all too
real intellectual cage (Starn 1991). However stimulating the concept may have been
when Andean studies was emerging as a recognized field of anthropological enquiry and
practice, its utility as an explanation of the fundamental organizing principles of Andean
society, has passed. Constant evocation and recycling of the “lo andino paradigm” in our
archaeological and ethnographic work serves little purpose other than to keep Andean
scholars on the fringes of theoretical debates in anthropology and to limit our capacity for
new knowledge production.
Principal Author: Zachary Chase
By “lo andino” we mean a construct that assumes Andean peoples (writ large
across space and time) possess a distinctive (even unique) and coherent set of interrelated
cultural proclivities: a common fund of perceptions, understandings, values, symbols, and
social, spatial, and material practices. This “congealed Andean essence” is ascribed to
Andean peoples whole cloth and, at the same time, deployed to explain Andean societies
past and present. Identification of this social essence derives in great part from
observation and analysis of cultural phenomena in the Andean highlands and altiplano,
though its pervasive character invests analysis of coastal populations as well.
Among the salient attributes of this presumptive Andean essence, we include the
organization of Andean political economies according to the socio-environmental logic of
the vertical archipelago, competitive/complementary dual organization, the function and
value of communal labor shaped by principles of reciprocity, personal relationships
between the human and animate physical world that are expressed in kinship terms, and,
not trivially, a presumption that the indigenous peoples of the Andes possess an almost
preternatural capacity for resilience in the face of social and environmental trauma
(among other such repeatedly mobilized structural and physio-psychological “traits”).
Frequently, these traits are defined in negative terms, counterpoised against observations
in other cultural areas that featured urban and state societies (as defined by canonical
attribute lists [viz. Childe 1950]): verticality, reciprocal commodity and labor exchange
in lieu of markets; the khipu “system” of record keeping and communication instead of
writing. These distinctive cultural tendencies and practices are inevitably intertwined
with what is viewed as the similarly singular geographical and ecological essence of the
Andean natural environment (for seminal essays see Murra 2002).
1
Historically the “lo andino” concept emerged from a combination of empirical
research and political concerns (Murra 1984; Starn 1991; Cadena 2005). We would not
dispute the notion that this concept has been productive as an explanatory model for a
certain range of data, and as a galvanizing source of political identity. But, at the same
time, the concept of “lo andino” in anthropological and historical studies of the Andes
often establishes a framework that constrains interpretations of our data by making them
conform to a cultural “middle range” theory. This, in effect, hampers scholarly efforts to
analyze data from the Andes on two ends of the historical and anthropological spectrum
of methodologies, i.e. the historically particularized and the broadly comparative.
First, despite the argument that “lo andino” carries an “assumption of historical
particularism” (Silverman 1992; D’Altroy 1992: 9-10), the pervasive nature of the
concept has impeded studies of historical particularities by proffering prefabricated and
explicitly pan-Andean cultural explanations for local or regional historical and material
data (Gelles 1995; Van Buren 1997). These “explanations” reduce particular historical
contexts to a “generic Andean structure,” an Andean “order of things.” In short, the “lo
andino” concept artificially flattens specific, diverse contours of Andean lived, historical
experience.
Second, rigid adherence to “lo andino” as an explanatory model inhibits broader
anthropological comparisons of Andean data with those from other areas and cultures,
encapsulating Andean scholarship (as well as peoples–past and present–living in the
Andes) in an imagined, internally coherent discourse that is literally incomparable. In
light of this we would do well to remember Murra’s claim (1980 [1956]: xxi) that his true
insight into the political economy of the expansionist Inka state came while researching
and teaching about African and Pacific Island cultures. This claim seems curiously ironic
now, given that Murra’s vigorous defense of core structural elements defining the “lo
andino” concept (and perhaps even more his exceptional intellectual influence on several
generations of “Murrista acolytes” who applied the concept in a more or less mechanical
fashion) contributed significantly to the anti-comparativist thrust of most Andean
scholarship. If we are to explore the historical experience of Andean peoples, we must
take into account multiple processes of human agency, social change, the role of material
conditions in human relations. The degree of order and structure in history should be
empirically examined, not assumed; structure does not determine individual and group
historical agency, but it does impose sets of constraining circumstances (social, cultural,
environmental). Here, of course, we cannot help but cite Marx’s (1852) famous dictum:
“Men make their own history, but not in circumstances of their own choosing.”
Uncritically applied, the “lo andino” paradigm offers us the worst of all worlds:
insufficient scope for individual human agency bound up with the paradoxical notion of
structures and “constraining circumstances” that are putatively unique to Andean
historical experience.
As should be evident, “lo andino” has often been discussed in an “economy of
debate” (Cohen 1994) that frames the research of Andeanists in terms of deterministic
false dichotomies. For instance, one of these dichotomies consists of choosing either an
ideological/cultural or a materialist/energetic explanatory framework for analyzing the
2
causal underpinnings of human activity in the Andes, as in D’Altroy’s (1992) argument
for a move away from the former “lo andino” (Silverman 1992) model and towards the
latter (materialist/energetic) model to facilitate cross-cultural anthropological
comparisons. Though the call for an approach to Andean research that can be more
anthropologically comparative is valid, this dichotomy raises the consideration that the
vertical archipelago (for example) is most profitably examined from both of these angles
simultaneously. It also illustrates the unsubtle reductionism inherent in the “either/or”
economy of the debate.
Another dichotomous struggle over “lo andino” is part of the well-worn
“hot/cold” society concept (Levi-Strauss 1966: 234; Hill 1988; Starn 1991). Although
sympathetic to the sentiments that militate against this simplistic dichotomy, we question
the uncritical chain of inference that links a move away from characterizing societies as
“cold” with the assertion that people necessarily abandon tradition as they participate in
historical processes. The well-intentioned political and epistemological motivations
behind such assertions may unwittingly rest on the deeply internalized, hegemonic
assumption that change is a necessary condition for “progress,” such that, in the final
analysis, an insistent focus on cultural change by scholars of the Andes perpetuates the
universalism of an Enlightenment, rational subject as the apex of humanity (see Sahlins
1995; Obeyesekere 1993). Instead, we should understand that cultural forms and
meanings can be both temporally enduring and historically or politically catalytic (inter
alia Stern 1992; Millones 1990; Bawden 2001).
Concerning a final dichotomy, that of historicism/structuralism in Andean (esp.
Inka) historiography, as may be expected, among the authors who take up this debate,
there is no unanimity concerning which authors and works fall into what category, so
that, while Dennis Ogburn (2004:102) places Rostworowski’s work in the “historicist”
camp, Catherine Julien (2000: 10) characterizes the same work as structuralist in the
tradition of Zuidema. Again, the economy of the “lo andino” debate accounts for such
polarization; more complex understandings of structure and history are evinced in
Zuidema’s (1983: 53) acknowledgement that, within the highly structured (and ostensibly
synchronic) ceque system “the possibility of choice . . . was far more extensive than can
be indicated with support of the data on the high priest and priests.”
Murra’s essay “Andean Societies” (1984), and Starn’s “Missing the Revolution”
(1991) typify this debate over cultural continuity and innovation in the Andes. One can
readily perceive that the shift from a comparative approach in the Economic Organization
of the Inka State (cited above), to a notion of the irreducible nature of Andean culture is
tied up with the idea of a perduring “lo andino.” In presenting Andean cultural
achievement as a “complex,” Murra conflates its “autochthonous” nature with its
“uniqueness” (120); geographically independent historical development in the Andes is
read as cultural exceptionalism. Further, in the essay’s review of scholarly works,
sensitivity to cultural continuity in the Andes is treated as an a priori good.
Starn’s argument (1991), on the other hand, relies on the slippage between
cultural conservatism (which has a long and detailed history in ethnology) and political
3
conservatism. So, when the latter was opposed by the Maoist Sendero Luminoso, this was
sufficient evidence for Starn that the cultural conservatism posited by advocates of “lo
andino” was disproved or overturned. However, note that the first paragraph of the essay
mentions the mobilization by Sendero of “the Inkarrí myth of Andean resurrection from
the cataclysm of conquest,” and the date chosen for the proclamation of “their intention
to over throw the Peruvian state” to coincide with the 199th anniversary of Tupac
Amaru’s execution (63). These powerful cultural tropes do not appear again in the essay.
The dichotomizing effects of the “lo andino” debate seem to have inhibited reflection on
the fascinating articulation of Maoist doctrine through deeply rooted Andean symbols.
The political motivations underpinning these two pieces give them a pragmatist bent.
Murra, consciously or not, imagines sensitivity to cultural continuity as the diacritic of
political solidarity with Andean peoples, a positive endorsement of “traditional Andean
values.” Starn’s critique of various ethnographies never really deals with their descriptive
or explanatory accuracy, but only with the potential political implications of their
positions.
Thus it is not so much the existence of a constellation of concepts and practices
classified as “lo andino” that is problematic. Rather, the way that academic debate has
been structured in deterministic opposition around “lo andino,”–the way the concept has
been deployed and in turn responded to–is what inhibits more complete exploration of
social formations and their transformations through time in the Andes.
Principal Author: Steven Kosiba
Mobilization of the “lo andino” concept often leads to an essentialized notion of
“authentic” Andean subjectivity grounded in the socioeconomic constraints of a
variegated environment. Lo andino describes a network of human-environmental
relationships across multiple, stratified eco-zones and resource areas. As such, lo andino
is a model of political ecology that represents how Andean cultural precepts of
household, community, and kinship are interrelated within a patterned distribution of
natural ecological areas. Indeed, the model assumes a virtual homology between ecology
and social structure, claiming that the organizational principles of Andean social groups
are not only an adaptation to a vertical and variegated environment, but furthermore that,
like ecological resources, such principles were generated by pre-existing environmental
conditions and subsequently became inscribed as deeply embedded structures of
socioeconomic and cultural organization.
As a heuristic device, the claim of ontological homology between ecology and
institutional structures may contribute to an anthropological understanding of Andean
societies, even if only at a metaphorical level. Indeed, as with the tectonically dynamic
Andean land, organizational principles in the Andes are both stable and constantly
changing, often tending toward homogeneity throughout the social landscape, while at
other times violently and dramatically erupting from protracted periods of relative
stability (e.g. recent examples of Agrarian Reform and the Sendero Luminoso
insurgency). As previously noted, many researchers characterize the Andes as the
“hottest” and “coldest” of regions: i.e. one in which social change is constantly occurring
4
yet only to reproduce and regenerate cultural and institutional principles within a lasting
structural framework. Yet, how do such “traditional” structures change relative to drastic
political and economic developments, for instance state formation or colonization? In this
sense, it is imperative to examine the relation between change and continuity, history and
structure, particularity and generality, in the Andean context instead of simply assuming
that there is an overarching set of structures that guides social actions and decisions
through time and/or across space. Andeanists must reconsider what is meant by the terms
“traditional” and “authentic” (both terms implying continuity and homogeneity) at
different scales of social experience within the pre-modern and modern Andes, especially
relative to the human-environment relations that are schematized by the concept of “lo
andino”
Proponents of “lo andino” mobilize concepts derived from political ecology and
economy in order theorize a binary of “culture/nature” in which the latter over determines
the former. Such theoretical formulations condition the anthropological characterization
of past and present Andean societies as unchanging, monolithic, “traditional” and
“authentic” collectivities that are devoid of agency and detached from history, being
driven by enduring autochthonous institutions and structures (cf. Starn 1991). A
reconsideration of conceptual categories of “environment,” “tradition” and “state” in the
Andean context raises theoretical, epistemological, and empirical challenges to the “lo
andino” paradigm, especially its implicit insistence on an “authentic” Andean mode of
life and subjectivity.
What does the “lo andino” paradigm assume about environment, culture and
nature in the Andes? How do such assumptions link to a notion of what is an
“authentically” Andean subject? Numerous researchers claim that the political economy
of the vertical archipelago is unique to the Andes. Such a proposition requires that
topographic attributes of the Andean region are not only the substrate, but also the
primary cause for the genesis of the vertical archipelago form of socioeconomic and
cultural organization. The model implies that topography, climate, and the uneven
distribution of ecological zones have conditioned the development and maintenance of a
spatial form of socioeconomic organization.
In the tradition of Herder and Heidegger, “lo andino” claims that land and its
attributes determine the socio-cultural “being” of human actors. Further, “lo andino”
untangles Heidegger’s relationship of “being in the world” by proposing a unidirectional
process in which “the world” (a priori, “natural” topographic attributes) is contained
within and directs the constitution of human social being. In this sense, “lo andino”
implicitly claims that an “authentic” Andean social being must be one that is directed and
constrained by a pre-existing environment, one that adapts to “nature” in a “naturally”
Andean way. Thus, Andean human actors are confronted by an environment that is a
variegated archipelago of compartmentalized resources, and have no choice but to adapt
to this environment through a “traditional” form of organization, a form of organization
that constitutes the “authentic” yet necessarily homogenous, Andean subject. This claim
is similar to that of the “Ecological Indian”, or the non-Western human living in harmony
with nature that is found within much anthropological and popular literature (Krech
5
1999). Yet, such a conceptual bifurcation of “nature” and “culture” fails to explain the
marked periods of anthropogenic alteration of the Andean environment in which states
radically altered the land through massive constructions of raised-fields, terraces and
irrigation systems. In other words, if “lo andino” presents a persistent model of
“traditional” and “authentic” Andean social being, then how does one account for the
striking variability in Andean social history that witnessed the ascendancy and decline of
numerous expansive states that successfully altered their environmental circumstances
through strategies that differed from “traditional” practice?
Numerous recent publications taking up the research objectives of historical and
political ecology challenge the theoretical assumption of a division between “nature” and
“culture” (Biersack 1999; Crumley 1994; Descola 1994; Scoones 1999; van der Leeuw
and Redman 2002). Indeed, the political ecology literature stresses how environments
neither direct nor determine social activity, but are better considered as anthropogenic
composites of past and present human activities, conceptions, and perceptions. Numerous
researchers employ a concept of “landscapes” to break down binaries of “nature” and
“culture” in order to concentrate on the mutually implicating and diachronic process of
interrelationship between humans and their environment (see Anscheutz et al. 2001;
Ashmore and Knapp 2000, Cosgrove 1998, Hirsch 1995; Smith 2003; Wilkinson 2003
for recent reviews). The landscapes approach thus requires analysis of both the
anthropogenic production of environments, as well as the effect of environmental
conditions on human populations. In addition, the landscapes approach considers how
people occupying different subject positions may experience and perceive their
environment in different ways.
Yet Andeanists have largely ignored the political ecology and landscapes
literature (however, see Kolata, Erickson), and instead of applying the concepts of
political ecology in innovative research programs, they have chosen to reproduce an
anthropological model that continues to posit a binary of “nature” and “culture” in which
the former conceptual term directs and conditions the latter. In turn, Andean subjects and
societies are represented as essentialized and homogenous masses that react and adapt to
local and regional conditions. How would a theoretical and empirical consideration of
these political ecological implications affect, challenge, or transform the “lo andino”
paradigm? Anthropological research can address this question by investigating how the
same activities or products may acquire different meanings in different sub-regions of the
Andes, examining how subjectivities may change relative to different scales of social
experience, and by seeking analogies with other comparable regions. Archaeological and
ethnographic accounts of Andean social organization often rely upon the assumption that
all Andean people experience(d) and perceive(d) their world in the same way. Such a
proposition could be empirically assessed by studies focused on variation within the
Andes, e.g. the variable use of certain foodstuffs in domestic and ritual contexts,
variability in the treatment of ancestors, or variability in the timing of agricultural
planting and cultivation relative to more formalized local and solar/lunar calendars. Such
research objectives will provide information pertaining to the relationship between local
particularity and regional generality within the Andes, thus allowing for a more nuanced
investigation of how Andean people in the past and present may have occupied various
6
subject positions, playing different, ambiguous and contradictory roles at different times
and in different places (cf. Starn 1991).
An investigation of such multiple and shifting subjectivities would reinvigorate
Andean studies by eschewing the notion that people within this region were homogenous
actors who simply react or adapt to their environment in predictable ways. In turn,
consideration of how multiple and shifting subjectivities can persist within a broader
cultural and geographical framework would generate new models of Andean social
organization that then could be compared with socio-cultural forms of organization in
other geographical regions. Also, such a focus on the relation of particular multiple and
shifting subjectivities to a general cultural frame could mount an empirical challenge to
many current postmodern anthropological perspectives which heighten the importance of
the uniqueness and particularity of events and contexts while neglecting an account of
more general social structures (e,g, semiotic approaches, methodological individualism).
What does “lo andino” assume about tradition and history? The paradigm
assumes that this form of (vertical) organization has endured throughout the Andean past,
hence its insistence that this is a “traditional” and thus pre-Hispanic and pre-capitalist
form of non-market socioeconomic structure. Yet, has this form of long-distance
structural organization endured in periods lacking a state-level administrative hierarchy,
if so how? If not, then what does this tell us about Andean states? Do Andean states drive
history by solidifying, formalizing and codifying preexisting institutional structures? In
this sense, in order to further examine the applicability of the “lo andino” concept,
research should consider whether and how the Andean state is more of a formalization of
preceding sets of social relations and less of a rupture with and from preceding forms of
household relations and institutions (as in European contract theory). Research oriented
in this manner would challenge present notions of the Andean state. For instance, many
social evolutionary accounts of the Andean state cite how state level organization is
achieved when a settlement structure requires more than a day’s walk between
administrative outposts (e.g. Covey 2006). Yet the system of verticality described by “lo
andino” also requires a method of long-distance communication and transportation
between nodes of the assumed archipelago. How was such a system managed across
different ethnic and cultural spaces in absence of state governance? In this light,
researchers must begin to inquire about the nature of the Andean state and its relation to
this model. Such research would also greatly contribute to anthropological theories of
state formation by providing a model of political consolidation that is neither driven by
Marxian conflict (domination and class-based oppression) nor Hobbesian contract
(legitimacy and repression). In turn such research would provide invaluable insights into
non-state socioeconomic organization across vast expanses of a variegated landscape.
A brief conclusion
To fully consider this theme, we must ask what relevance the “lo andino” concept
has to our work now; any contemporary discussion of “lo andino” must consider the tone
of the most recent academic literature on Andean topics, a great deal of which has
displayed major shifts away from “lo andino” dogmatism. There are notable examples of
7
work that offers intelligently conceived historical anthropologies of cultural
epistemologies and practices in the Andes, such as Urton’s work (1990) on the
historically particular actions that were drawn on and, in turn, have subsequently shaped,
understandings of the foundational mythology of the Inka, and Gelles’ work (1995), on
the shifting meanings of competitive/complementary dual organization through time.
There are many other publications like these (inter alia Mannheim 1986; Guevara-Gil and
Salomon 1994; Szemiñski 1997; Van Buren 1997; Abercrombie 1998; Salomon 2002;
2004; Cadena 2005). We have also seen assiduously collected Andean data employed in
comparative anthropological ways, such as MacCormack (2007; 2001), D’Altroy (2005;
2001), Weismantel (2004), and Kolata (1996: 1-22, 265-281) (see also Silverman 2004;
Covey 2002; Urton 1996).
With all of this literature, it would seem that anthropological studies of the Andes have
left behind the conceptualizations, constraints, and products of the “lo andino” debates.
We have begun to liberate ourselves from Procrustes bed, and not a moment too soon.
Selected works cited:
8
Thomas Abercrombie
1998 Pathways of Memory and Power: Ethnography and History Among and Andean
People. University of Wisconsin, Madison.
Garth Bawden
2001 The Symbols of Late Moche Social Transformation. In Moche Art and
Archaeology in Ancient Peru. Edited by Joanne Pillsbury. Yale, New Haven. pp.
285-306.
Marisol de la Cadena
2005 Indigenous Mestizos: The Politics of Race and Culture in Cuzco, Peru, 19191991. Duke University Press, Durham.
V. Gordon Childe
1950 The Urban Revolution. Town Planning Review 21 (1): 3-17.
David William Cohen
1994 The Combing of History. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.
Alan Covey
2002 A Processual Study of Inka State Formation. Journal of Anthropological
Archaeology 22: 333-357.
Terence D’Altroy
1992 Provincial Power in the Inka Empire. Smithsonian, Washington.
2001 Politics, resources and blood in the Inka empire. In Empires. pp. 201-226.
2005 Remaking the Social Landscape: Colonization in the Inka Empire. In The
Archaeology of Colonial Encounters: Comparative Perspectives. Edited by Gil
Stein. SAR, Santa Fe. pp. 263-295.
Paul Gelles
1995 Equilibrium and Extraction: Dual Organization in the Andes. American
Ethnologist 22 (4): 710-742.
Armando Guevara-Gil and Frank Salomon
1994 A Personal Visit: Colonial Political Ritual and the Making of Indians in the
Andes. Colonial Latin American Review 3 (1-2): 3-36.
Jonathan Hill
1988 Rethinking History and Myth: Indigenous South American Perspectives on the
Past. (Ed.). University of Illinois, Chicago.
Catherine Julien
2000 Reading Inca History. Iowa City, University of Iowa Press.
Alan Kolata
1996 Tiwanaku and Its Hinterland: Archaeology and Paleoecology of an Andean
Civilization. (Ed.). Smithsonian, Washington.
Claude Levi-Strauss
1966 The Savage Mind. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.
Sabine MacCormack
2001 Cuzco, another Rome? In Empires: Perspectives from Archaeology and History.
Edited by Alcock et al. Cambridge, Cambridge. pp. 419-435.
2007 On the Wings of Time: Rome, the Incas, Spain, and Peru. Princeton, Princeton.
Bruce Mannheim
9
1991 The Language of the Inka Since the European Invasion. University of Texas,
Austin.
Karl Marx
1852 The eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte, New York: Mondial, 2005.
Luis Millones
1990 El retorno de las huacas: estudios y documentos sobre el taki onqoy, siglo XVI
(Ed.). IEP y Sociedad Peruana de Psicoanálisis, Lima.
John V. Murra
1980 [1956] The Economic Organization of the Inka State. JAI Press, Greenwich.
1984 Andean Societies. Annual Review of Anthropology 13: 119-141.
2002 El Mundo Andino: población, medio ambiente y economía. IEP, Lima.
Gananath Obeyesekere
1993 The Apotheosis of Captain Cook: European Mythmaking in the Pacific.
Princeton University Press, Princeton.
Dennis Ogburn
2004 Power in Stone: The Long-Distance Movement of Building Blocks in the Inca
Empire. Ethnohistory 51 (1): 101-135.
Frank Salomon
2002 Un-ethnic ethnohistory: On Peruvian Peasant Historiography and Ideas of
Autochthony. Ethnohistory 49 (3): 475-506.
2004 The Cord Keepers: Khipus and Cultural Life in a Peruvian Village. Duke,
Durham.
Marshall Sahlins
1995 “How Natives Think.” About Captain Cook, For Example. University of Chicago,
Chicago.
Katharina Schreiber
2005 Imperial Agendas and Local Agency: Wari Colonial Strategies. In The
Archaeology of Colonial Encounters. pp. 237-262.
Helaine Silverman
1992 Review of Provincial Power in the Inka Empire. The Americas 50 (1): 119-121.
2004 Andean Archaeology (Ed.). Blackwell, Malden.
Orin Starn
1991 Missing the Revolution: Anthropologists and the War in Peru. Cultural
Anthropology 6 (1): 63-91.
Steve Stern
1993 Peru’s Indian Peoples and the Challenge of Spanish Conquest: Huamanga to
1640. University of Wisconsin, Madison.
Jan Szemiñski
1997 Ika yunka + Lima yunka = Inca. Un ejemplo de transformaciones étnicas en el
siglo XVI. In Arqueología, antropología, e historia: homenaje a María
Rostworoski. Edited by Varón Gabai y Flores Espinoza. pp. 335-349.
Gary Urton
1990 The History of A Myth: Pacariqtambo and the Origin of the Inkas. University of
Texas, Austin.
10
1996 R. Tom Zuidema, Dutch Structuralism, and the Application of the “Leiden
Orientation: to Andean Studies. Journal of the Steward Anthropological Society
24 (2-2): 1-36.
Mary Van Buren
1997 Continuity or Change? Vertical Archipelagos in Southern Peru During the Early
Colonial Period. In Approaches to the Historical Archaeology of Mexico, Central and
South America. Edited by Janine Gasco, Greg Charles Smith, and Patricia FournierGarcía. The Institute of Archaeology, UCLA, Los Angeles. pp. 155-164.
Mary Weismantel
2004 Moche Sex Pots: Reproduction and Temporality in Ancient South America.
American Anthropologist 106 (3): 495-505.
R. Tom Zuidema
1983 Hierarchy and Space in Incaic Social Organization. Ethnohistory 30(2): 49-75.
11