There are few things as quintessentially human as the act of teaching. Whether around a campfire, in a workshop, or beside a burial cairn, transmitting knowledge has been central to how societies grow, persist, and adapt. A recent study by Ivan Colagè and Francesco d’Errico takes a sweeping look at this process, offering what may be the most comprehensive timeline yet of cultural transmission in the human lineage.

Spanning more than three million years and 103 cultural traits, their analysis, published in PLOS ONE, seeks not just to catalog the artifacts of early humans but to trace how knowledge of these tools and practices was passed on. The research reframes ancient stone tools, pigments, beads, and even burial customs not merely as products of ingenuity but as echoes of a long lineage of teaching, learning, and increasingly complex social organization.

"Culture cannot exist without ways to acquire information from others," the authors argue, reminding us that behind every flake of obsidian or ochre-stained shell lies an exchange between generations.

From Hammers to Harpoons: Charting the Timeline of Cultural Traits

Colagè and d’Errico's team assembled a dataset of over 100 cultural traits, each tied to its first consistent appearance in the archaeological record—from rudimentary stone hammers 3.3 million years ago to painted burials just before the Holocene. Their aim wasn’t simply to track innovations but to reverse-engineer how those innovations might have been taught.

Each trait was evaluated across three dimensions of transmission:

* Spatial: Was learning done through distant observation or guided, hands-on instruction?

* Temporal: Did the knowledge require a single lesson or a sequence of modular training episodes?

* Social: Was the information passed from parent to child, across peer groups, or broadly within communities?

Surprisingly, patterns emerged. For example, as technologies became more complex, so too did the methods required to transmit them. Traits that appeared after 600,000 years ago—such as hafted tools or pigment processing—often involved intentional guidance, structured repetition, and even what the authors call "explanation in absence of action," a precursor to verbal teaching.

"The results identify trends in the evolution of cultural transmission and reveal a coevolutionary dynamic between the emergence of novel cultural traits and the complexification of transmission strategies," the authors write.

Teaching Without Talking? Language and the Ghosts of Gesture

One of the study’s boldest claims is that forms of teaching resembling verbal instruction existed well before the appearance of spoken language. Around 600,000 years ago, early humans were likely using sophisticated gestures, perhaps paired with proto-language, to explain how to make and use tools.

By 200,000 to 100,000 years ago—the estimated dawn of fully modern language—the archaeological record shows a leap in the complexity of behaviors, from structured burials to the use of symbolic ornaments. These behaviors demand not just physical dexterity but abstract thinking, planning, and crucially, explanation.

"Acquiring the necessary knowledge to perform a task implies learning several disconnected pieces of knowledge the utility of which will only become apparent at a future stage," they note.

A Ratchet for Culture

Anthropologists often speak of the "ratchet effect"—the idea that cultural knowledge can build upon itself, generation after generation, in a way that no single individual could replicate alone. This study adds empirical depth to that metaphor, showing how modes of transmission had to evolve alongside the artifacts they preserved.

Teaching by gesture molding, opportunity provisioning, or evaluative feedback doesn’t require words. But once articulate language emerges, a whole new world of teaching becomes possible—including the ability to transmit ideas removed from immediate action.

This, the researchers suggest, marks a tipping point: culture no longer rides on imitation alone, but on instruction, imagination, and increasingly abstract modes of communication. In short, teaching becomes not just a way to learn, but a way to think.

Teaching as Legacy, Not Just Learning

Beyond the evolutionary arc, this research reshapes our understanding of early human societies. Teaching wasn’t an optional behavior; it was infrastructural. Communities that developed better strategies for passing down knowledge had a selective advantage. Cultural success became linked not only to the tool in hand, but to the ability to ensure that others could use it, remake it, and improve it.

"Even individual learning often operates within a more complex social learning environment," the authors conclude, highlighting the scaffolding required to sustain innovation over millennia.

In a time when machines can learn but struggle to teach, this study is a timely reminder: what made us human was not just the ability to adapt, but the capacity to share how.

Suggested Additional Readings

* Sterelny, K. (2012). The Evolved Apprentice: How Evolution Made Humans Unique. MIT Press. https://mitpress.mit.edu/9780262018872

* Stout, D., Hecht, E. E., Khreisheh, N., Bradley, B., & Chaminade, T. (2015). Cognitive demands of Lower Paleolithic toolmaking. PLOS ONE, 10(4), e0121804. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0121804

* Morgan, T. J. H., Uomini, N. T., Rendell, L. E., Chouinard-Thuly, L., Street, S. E., Lewis, H. M., ... & Laland, K. N. (2015). Experimental evidence for the co-evolution of hominin tool-making teaching and language. Nature Communications, 6, 6029. https://doi.org/10.1038/ncomms7029

* Shipton, C. (2020). A noisy signal: The evolution of teaching, learning, and language. Evolutionary Anthropology, 29(6), 287–299. https://doi.org/10.1002/evan.21829

* Tennie, C., Call, J., & Tomasello, M. (2009). Ratcheting up the ratchet: on the evolution of cumulative culture. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B, 364(1528), 2405–2415. https://doi.org/10.1098/rstb.2009.0052

* Mesoudi, A., Whiten, A., & Laland, K. N. (2006). Towards a unified science of cultural evolution. Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 29(4), 329–383. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0140525X06009083

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At the Fujia archaeological site in eastern China, 5000-year-old graves tell a story that might challenge deep-seated assumptions about how early human societies were organized. Nestled in the coastal lowlands of what is now Shandong Province, this Neolithic village appears to have operated under a social framework rarely seen in the ancient world: matriliny.

For more than 250 years, two distinct cemeteries at Fujia served as final resting places for members of two separate maternal lineages. Genetic analysis of ancient DNA extracted from the skeletal remains of 60 individuals reveals a striking pattern: people were buried not according to paternal ties or marital bonds, but based on maternal descent.

Cemeteries Divided by Mitochondria

The Fujia site, part of the Dawenkou cultural complex (circa 2750–2500 BCE), comprises over 500 graves. Two cemeteries—Fujia_N and Fujia_S—sit on opposing ends of the site. Ancient DNA tells us these were not random divisions. Every individual sampled from Fujia_N belonged to mitochondrial haplogroup M8a3. Those from Fujia_S overwhelmingly carried a different haplogroup: D5b1b. These mitochondrial lineages, passed from mother to child, suggest a deep-seated and stable matrilineal structure.

"Individuals buried in the same cemetery not only shared the same mitochondrial haplogroup but often had identical sequences, pointing to close maternal kinship," the researchers wrote.

This pattern was consistent regardless of biological sex. Men and women were buried with their maternal clan, a stark contrast to the patrilocal patterns documented at many other Neolithic sites in China and Europe.

High Diversity in Y-Chromosomes, Low in Mitochondria

If the maternal lineages at Fujia were tight-knit, the paternal ones were remarkably diverse. Analysis of the Y chromosome in male remains revealed multiple unrelated paternal lines within each cemetery. This disparity suggests that while women stayed within their birth community, men likely came from outside. Yet despite these inflows, the maternal system remained intact.

"The burial practice based on maternal lineage remained strictly consistent," the authors noted, even when individuals from different cemeteries were related through avuncular or cousin ties.

Endogamy Without Inbreeding

The Fujia community also practiced high levels of endogamy—marriage within the same group. But notably, this did not result in widespread inbreeding. Analyses of runs of homozygosity (ROH) showed that while most individuals shared distant genetic links, close-kin marriages were rare.

This endogamy may reflect a practical response to demographic limits in a small, geographically constrained community. The villagers at Fujia rarely moved far, as suggested by isotope data that point to consistent childhood and adult residences within a 10-kilometer radius of the site.

Subsistence and Settlement

Stable isotope analysis confirms a millet-heavy diet, supplemented by domesticated pigs and possibly freshwater or marine resources. The site sits on what would have been fertile ground for foxtail millet and broomcorn millet cultivation. It may not have been a wealthy community—archaeological evidence points to modest grave goods and limited signs of elite stratification—but it was stable, organized, and cohesive.

Matriliny in a Broader Context

Matrilineal societies are rare today and often regarded as historical outliers. The few well-documented ancient cases include the elite lineages of Chaco Canyon in North America and scattered evidence from Iron Age Europe. Fujia now joins this short list with its dual-clan matrilineal model—a structured, inherited identity carried through mothers over ten generations.

"Fujia may represent a Neolithic version of clan-based matrilineal society, not dissimilar in structure to modern groups like the Mosuo or Tlingit," the researchers propose.

This discovery invites a reevaluation of prehistoric kinship systems. Rather than a linear evolution from matriliny to patriliny, human social organization may have followed more varied and context-dependent paths.

A Case for Persistence, Not Progression

The social model at Fujia did not collapse into patriliny or hierarchy despite increasing social complexity in other Dawenkou settlements. Fujia avoided the wealth disparities and elite tombs found in regional centers like Jiaojia. Instead, its people maintained a more egalitarian structure rooted in maternal ties.

In doing so, they remind us that human societies have long experimented with diverse strategies for organizing kinship, inheritance, and identity. The matrilineal clans of Neolithic Fujia were not a fleeting curiosity. They were an enduring way of life.

Related Research

* Kennett, D. J., et al. (2017). Archaeogenomic evidence reveals prehistoric matrilineal dynasty. Nature Communications, 8, 14115. https://doi.org/10.1038/ncomms14115

* Gretzinger, J., et al. (2024). Evidence for dynastic succession among early Celtic elites in Central Europe. Nature Human Behaviour. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41562-024-01888-7

* Cassidy, L. M., et al. (2025). Continental influx and pervasive matrilocality in Iron Age Britain. Nature, 637, 1136–1142. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-025-09238-w

* Ji, T., Zhang, H., Pagel, M., & Mace, R. (2022). A phylogenetic analysis of dispersal norms, descent and subsistence in Sino-Tibetans. Evolution and Human Behavior, 43(2), 147–154. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.evolhumbehav.2021.11.006

* Lu, Y., et al. (2012). Mitochondrial origin of the matrilocal Mosuo people in China. Mitochondrial DNA, 23(1), 13–19. https://doi.org/10.3109/19401736.2011.615899

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At the Edge of the Pacific: A Genetic Time Capsule

In the tropical lowlands and offshore islands of Papua New Guinea (PNG), genetic echoes of ancient voyages still course through living communities. Now, researchers have retrieved and analyzed the ancient genomes of 42 individuals from these coastal regions and the nearby Bismarck Archipelago, offering a detailed view into 2,500 years of human interaction, mobility, and adaptation. The results paint a portrait of surprising continuity—and surprising delay—in one of the most culturally diverse regions on Earth.

The study, published in Nature Ecology & Evolution, draws on genome-wide data, radiocarbon dating, stable isotope analysis, and dental calculus to reconstruct a complex demographic and dietary past. At its core lies a central puzzle: how and when did incoming populations—particularly Austronesian-speaking peoples from East Asia—interact and intermix with the indigenous Papuan populations of Near Oceania?

Lapita Pottery, But Not Immediate Mixing

The Lapita cultural complex, with its distinctive dentate-stamped pottery and reputation for long-distance seafaring, arrived in the Bismarck Archipelago around 3,300 years ago. But the ancient DNA from Watom Island—an early Lapita site—reveals that genetic intermingling with Papuan groups didn’t happen right away.

"Two individuals from Watom dating to the middle to late Lapita period carried only Papuan-related ancestry," the study reports. "Their genomes lacked any signs of East Asian admixture despite their burial in a Lapita-associated site."

It wasn't until nearly 2,000 years ago that researchers found clear genetic evidence of mixing between East Asian and Papuan ancestries in the region. This admixture appears to have occurred centuries after the first Lapita settlers arrived. In one Watom individual dated to around 1,900 BP, roughly 40% of her ancestry came from East Asian-related populations.

This delayed genetic integration raises important questions. Why did these groups share cultural artifacts but not immediately intermarry? The evidence suggests extended periods of parallel occupation, perhaps even segregation, before more intimate forms of cultural integration began.

Coastal Communities, Divergent Histories

The story deepens on the south coast of mainland New Guinea, where the sites of Nebira and Eriama lie just a few kilometers apart. Yet the genomes of individuals from these sites tell strikingly different stories.

At Nebira, individuals carry a higher proportion of East Asian ancestry (45–60%) with admixture dates averaging around 1,500 years ago. Eriama’s individuals, on the other hand, show lower East Asian ancestry (~20%) and more recent mixing.

"Despite close proximity, these two communities appear to have diverged around 650 years ago," said the researchers. "This is evidenced not only by their genetic makeup but also their distinct burial practices and dietary signatures."

One group buried their dead in caves; the other in formal cemeteries. One consumed more marine foods; the other relied heavily on horticultural staples and wallaby meat. The fine-grained strontium isotope data even show that some individuals moved between inland and coastal zones during their lives.

Cultural Drift, Environmental Shocks

The divergence between communities also coincides with a poorly understood episode known to archaeologists as the "Papuan Hiccup" or "Ceramic Hiccup" — a period between 1,200 and 500 years ago characterized by the abandonment of coastal sites, interruptions in pottery production, and possibly climate instability linked to shifts in El Niño activity.

During this time, long-distance trade waned and settlement patterns shifted. Some groups relocated inland, others adopted more defensive, hilltop settlements. As one analysis notes, "the interruption of long-distance trade links might have led to abandonment of many long-term settlements and possibly sparked local conflict."

Despite these upheavals, genetic traces suggest continued interaction between neighboring groups. Individuals from Eriama and Nebira shared distant genetic ties, even as their social spheres diverged.

The Seafaring Past in Genomic Memory

Austronesian-speaking groups left a significant mark on the genetic landscape of coastal PNG. However, this influence was uneven, delayed, and mediated through complex local dynamics. While mitochondrial DNA reveals predominantly East Asian maternal ancestry, Y-chromosome data point to mostly Papuan paternal lineages—a pattern suggesting sex-biased admixture.

"We observe an excess of Austronesian-related ancestry on the X chromosome, ranging from 10 to 60 percentage points," the authors noted, "which likely reflects social structures in which Austronesian women married into Papuan communities."

Such patterns align with previous findings from Vanuatu, Wallacea, and Tonga, reinforcing a broader regional trend.Sailing Against the Wind: Who Reached the Marianas?

The researchers also addressed a separate but related question: how were the Mariana Islands first settled? Genomic comparisons suggest that these remote Pacific islands were most likely colonized from island Southeast Asia rather than from Near Oceania. One key line of evidence comes from a single individual on Watom Island whose genome split earlier than Lapita-associated genomes, matching ancient genomes from Guam and Saipan more closely.

This route would have required sailing against prevailing winds and currents—a feat of navigation that underlines the extraordinary maritime skill of the first Pacific voyagers.

Genetic Time Capsules in a Fragile Landscape

Despite its complexity, the genetic story told here is incomplete. Preservation in tropical PNG is notoriously poor, making these 42 ancient genomes all the more valuable. They hint at deep histories of encounter, resilience, and transformation in a place where oral traditions, language diversity, and archaeological richness converge.

The study's principal investigator summarized the stakes:

"These findings highlight that coastal Papua New Guinea was never a uniform frontier. It was, and remains, a mosaic of cultures shaped by seafaring, environmental flux, and enduring local traditions."

Related Research

* Lipson, M., et al. (2018). "Ancient genomes document multiple waves of migration in Southeast Asian prehistory." Science, 361(6397), 92–95. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.aat3188

* Skoglund, P., et al. (2016). "Genomic insights into the peopling of the Southwest Pacific." Nature, 538(7626), 510–513. https://doi.org/10.1038/nature19844

* Posth, C., et al. (2021). "Ancient DNA reveals multiple waves of migration in Micronesia." Nature Communications, 12(1), 4385. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41467-021-24543-0

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The Case for Smoke Before Supper

For decades, archaeologists have debated the moment our ancestors learned to tame fire—and more importantly, why they did so. Cooking, the story often goes, sparked the evolution of Homo erectus by softening food, improving digestion, and freeing energy for bigger brains. But a new hypothesis is challenging that assumption with a cooler, smokier narrative: fire may have been kindled not for cooking, but for keeping meat safe.

Published in Frontiers in Nutrition, researchers Miki Ben-Dor and Ran Barkai argue that fire’s earliest use was tactical—a strategy for preserving large animal carcasses and warding off scavengers. Their theory, grounded in energetic analysis and Paleolithic archaeological evidence, repositions fire as an ecological adaptation tied to megafauna hunting, not a culinary revolution.

Hunting in the Pleistocene: High Risk, High Reward

During the Lower Paleolithic (1.9 to 0.78 million years ago), Homo erectus hunted animals that make today’s deer look like rabbits—elephants, hippos, buffalo. These hunts were risky and required coordination, but the payoff was immense.

“The meat and fat of a single elephant contain millions of calories,” Ben-Dor noted, “enough to feed a group of 25 for a month or more.”

Such "meat banks" were too large to consume in a day. Left exposed, they risked being spoiled by bacteria or stolen by hyenas, lions, and other carnivores. The logical solution? Fire—not to roast, but to protect and preserve.

Fires Not for Feasting, But for Fortifying

The researchers examined nine archaeological sites around the world—Israel, Kenya, Ethiopia, Spain—dating back as far as 1.9 million years. At every site where fire use is claimed, remains of massive herbivores were also present.

“These early sites consistently include large prey,” Barkai emphasized. “This suggests a pattern: where there was big game, there was often fire.”

Rather than rare or accidental, these fires may have served two critical roles:

* Smoking and drying meat, to delay decay.

* Deterring predators and scavengers, to protect the prize.

The Energy Economics of Fire

Using a bioenergetic model, the team compared the caloric returns from different food strategies. Hunting large prey in non-rainforest environments yielded over 16,000 calories/hour, dwarfing plant gathering (1,443 cal/hour) and even cooked plant foods (with modest gains of ~200–300 cal/hour).

Cooking meat added only about 1,200 calories/hour, mostly from enhanced digestibility. But that still couldn’t justify the effort of fire-making when compared to the benefits of preserving megafaunal meat over weeks.

“Preservation and protection offered higher energetic returns than cooking,” Ben-Dor concluded. “Early humans weren’t chefs—they were strategists.”

Fire as a Guardian, Not Just a Tool

Protecting a downed elephant wasn't just about calories. It was about safety. A partially consumed carcass would have been a beacon for predators. Fire could serve as a deterrent, and possibly a way to defend the kill without direct confrontation.

The authors suggest that this behavioral shift might also explain other evolutionary leaps—like the transition from arboreal sleeping to terrestrial rest, and eventually, the development of permanent home bases.

“This could have driven changes in cognition, social cooperation, and even brain size,” Barkai said.

Smoke Signals from the Deep Past

Cooking likely became a common use for fire once it was already in hand, but Ben-Dor and Barkai’s model casts early fire as a multipurpose innovation sparked by necessity, not culinary ambition.

This reframing challenges popular narratives about human evolution, and instead paints Homo erectus as a risk-calculating, large-prey specialist who used fire as a defensive and preservative strategy. In doing so, they may have laid the foundation for the social and cognitive scaffolding of our species.

Related Research

Here are three studies related to this theory that expand our understanding of early human behavior and fire use:

* Gaudzinski-Windheuser, S., et al. (2023). Hunting and processing of straight-tusked elephants 125,000 years ago: Implications for Neanderthal behavior. Science Advances, 9, eadd8186. https://doi.org/10.1126/sciadv.add8186

* Stepka, Z., et al. (2022). Hidden signatures of early fire at Evron quarry (1.0 to 0.8 Mya). PNAS, 119, e2123439119. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2123439119

* Alperson-Afil, N. (2008). Continual fire-making by hominins at Gesher Benot Ya‘aqov, Israel. Quaternary Science Reviews, 27(17–18), 1733–1739. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quascirev.2008.06.009

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The Soil Remembers

On the floodplains east of Basra, thousands of low, linear ridges—barely visible unless viewed from the sky—stretch for kilometers in eerie geometric repetition. These ridges, nestled within the silty soil of the Shaṭṭ al-ʿArab, have long been believed to be the remnants of a medieval agricultural system powered by enslaved labor. Now, for the first time, archaeologists have pulled direct dates from this forgotten infrastructure. And those dates are changing the story.

Published in Antiquity, the study led by Peter J. Brown, Jaafar Jotheri, and an international team offers a new chronology of these massive ridge-and-canal features. The researchers used optically stimulated luminescence (OSL)—a technique that measures the last time minerals in the soil were exposed to sunlight—to directly date the sediments in these structures. Their findings show that the earthworks were built and used over a much longer period than previously thought—extending well into the 13th century CE, long after the famed Zanj Rebellion had been crushed by Abbasid forces.

“These features were not the ephemeral scars of a single insurrection,” the authors write, “but the enduring imprint of centuries of cultivation and control.”

The Ghosts of Labor

The Zanj Rebellion is one of the most dramatic episodes in the early Islamic world. In 869 CE, tens of thousands of enslaved people—many from East Africa, others possibly of local descent—rose up in southern Iraq. For nearly 15 years, they seized towns, built their own administrative center (al-Mukhtārah), and challenged the might of the Abbasid Caliphate.

The rebellion has often been linked to these earthworks. Medieval Arabic sources such as al-Ṭabarī describe the rebels as laborers consigned to agricultural zones where they were forced to dig canals and raise embankments in the salty, flood-prone terrain. The assumption—long repeated in historical literature—was that the ridges visible today were a product of this coerced labor, created in the decades leading up to the revolt.

But archaeology had never caught up to the story.

OSL dating now paints a more nuanced picture. The majority of the ridges tested post-date the Zanj Rebellion, with most being constructed between the late 9th and mid-13th centuries CE. In other words, these features were not just relics of rebellion, but evidence of long-term investment in tidal irrigation—an engineering tradition that persisted well after the revolt had been suppressed.

A Landscape of Empire

The agricultural system itself was enormous. Covering over 800 square kilometers, it featured more than 7,000 ridges—long, narrow embankments 20 to 50 meters wide, often spaced a few hundred meters apart. These were paired with a sophisticated network of canals that captured tidal flows from the Gulf to irrigate inland fields.

“If laid end to end,” the authors estimate, “these ridges would stretch for 3,000 kilometers—nearly the width of the continental United States.”

This massive labor investment suggests a highly organized workforce. Whether that workforce was composed of enslaved Zanj or recruited locals remains a matter of debate. But what is clear is that the system required continual maintenance. Silt carried by irrigation water had to be cleared, canals dredged, and soil salinity managed—all tasks likely assigned to agricultural laborers whose daily lives are absent from written records.

One explanation for the longevity of the system lies in tidal irrigation itself. Medieval geographers such as al-Muqaddasī and al-Idrīsī described the unique dynamics of the Shaṭṭ al-ʿArab, where freshwater tides surged upriver twice daily, allowing for the efficient watering of date palms and barley fields. Even today, traces of this hydraulic system are visible from satellite imagery and drone photography, winding like veins through the desert crust.

History Below the Horizon

Previous scholars treated the Zanj Rebellion as a rupture—a moment when an oppressive regime built its own downfall through the exploitation of slave labor. But the new data suggest a different story: continuity, resilience, and perhaps adaptation. Some ridges may have had pre-rebellion origins, while others were added centuries later. The system did not collapse in the wake of revolt but instead evolved.

“There was no sharp break,” says the research team, “but rather a slow fading of infrastructure, likely shaped by multiple forces: plague, climate change, shifting markets, and war.”

Indeed, the 14th-century spread of the Black Death, combined with increasing aridity and the decline of Baghdad’s central role in Gulf trade, likely accelerated the eventual abandonment of this once-thriving landscape. The date palm groves faded, and the canals silted in. By the time Portuguese traveler Pedro Teixeira passed through in the 1600s, he described only saline flats and ruined dikes.

Whose Heritage?

Perhaps most compelling is the call for recognition.

“This is minority heritage,” notes Jaafar Jotheri, co-author and professor at the University of Al-Qadisiyah. “It deserves not just excavation, but protection.”

The descendants of the Zanj still live in southern Iraq. Their stories remain marginalized, their contributions overlooked. The ridges—silent and windblown—are among the few physical traces of that history. As archaeology reclaims their timeline, perhaps it can also help reclaim their voice.

Related Research

* Egberts, E., Jotheri, J., Di Michele, A., Baxter, A., & Rey, S. (2023). Dating ancient canal systems using radiocarbon dating and archaeological evidence at Tello/Girsu, southern Mesopotamia, Iraq. Radiocarbon, 65, 979–1002. https://doi.org/10.1017/RDC.2023.40

* Abu-Lughod, J. (1987). The shape of the world system in the thirteenth century. Studies in Comparative International Development, 22(4), 3–25.

* Campbell, G. (2016). East Africa in the early Indian Ocean world slave trade: The Zanj revolt reconsidered. In Early Exchange between Africa and the Wider Indian Ocean World (pp. 275–303). Palgrave Macmillan.

* Borsch, S., & Sabraa, T. (2017). Refugees of the Black Death: quantifying rural migration for plague and other environmental disasters. Annales de Démographie Historique, 134(2), 63–93. https://doi.org/10.3917/adh.134.0063

* Fields-Black, E. L. (2008). Deep Roots: Rice Farmers in West Africa and the African Diaspora. Indiana University Press.

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For years, the story of human evolution in southern Africa has been largely written from its caves. Rock shelters, with their stable conditions and stratified sediments, have preserved a rich archaeological record. But they represent only a narrow view. Outside the cool embrace of stone overhangs lie thousands of open-air sites, scattered across eroded plains, riverbanks, and dunes—sites that are far more difficult to study, but no less crucial for understanding how early Homo sapiens lived and moved across the land.

At Klein Hoek 1 (KH1), a Middle Stone Age open-air site nestled beside the Doring River in South Africa, researchers have been trying to break that bias. The site has yielded more than 180 bifacial points associated with the Still Bay technocomplex, a cultural marker of the early emergence of symbolic behavior and sophisticated tool production between 75,000 and 70,000 years ago. But until recently, much of the archaeology at KH1 had been exposed by erosion, with key contextual information stripped away by wind and water.

In a new study, archaeologists from Flinders University and their collaborators applied two geophysical techniques—electrical resistivity tomography (ERT) and magnetometry—to KH1, seeking a better understanding of the site's buried layers. Their goal wasn't just to find artifacts, but to make sense of the stratigraphy, the history of sediment movement and deposition, and the buried footprints of ancient fire.

"Caves give us detail, but not the full picture," said Ian Moffat, a geoarchaeologist at Flinders University. "Most of the archaeological landscape was open, not sheltered. We need tools that let us see beneath the surface without digging everything up."

Stratigraphy Without a Shovel

ERT works by injecting small electrical currents into the ground and measuring how easily the current moves through different subsurface materials. At KH1, ERT revealed four major layers: loose surface sands, semi-consolidated aeolian sediments, a layer of cobble-rich fluvial sediment, and, deep below, the ancient bedrock. The semi-consolidated sands, which had previously yielded Still Bay points, turned out to be up to 8 meters thick.

This was a revelation. Surface finds were just the tip of the iceberg. Within that thick band of sediment could lie untouched deposits from tens of thousands of years ago—preserved, stratified, and still in situ.

"That sediment body is where the archaeology lives," said Oliver Hatswell, lead author of the study. "But you wouldn’t know it just by looking at the surface."

Magnetic Echoes of Ancient Fires

Magnetometry, the second technique, scans the soil for tiny magnetic anomalies, especially those created when humans built hearths or burned organic material. These changes, caused by the transformation of iron-bearing minerals under heat, can linger for millennia.

At KH1, the researchers found subtle but meaningful magnetic variations scattered across parts of the site—areas not previously associated with surface artifacts. These quiet blips in the magnetic data may represent ancient fire pits, campsites, or other human activity.

"You start to see a pattern," said Moffat. "Where the magnetometry says there was heat, there’s often a correlation with known tool concentrations. That opens up new excavation targets."

A Site in Two Worlds

KH1 is divided by a fence line. To the west, erosion has stripped the land, revealing artifacts but destroying their stratigraphic context. To the east, sediments are well-preserved but show few signs of archaeology at the surface.

Geophysics bridges that divide. In the east, ERT revealed thick, intact layers of aeolian sediment—suggesting the possibility of deeply buried archaeology. In the west, magnetometry highlighted potential hearths among known tool clusters. Together, the methods map out both horizontal and vertical paths for future excavation.

This duality reflects a broader challenge in African archaeology. Open-air sites are both revealing and concealing. They show the past where it's been disturbed. They hide it where it's preserved. Bridging that tension requires tools that see what the eye cannot.

Toward a Broader Landscape Archaeology

The Still Bay points at KH1 are more than just tools. They are artifacts of cognition, of cultural tradition, of people living and making meaning in a landscape. But to understand those lives, archaeologists must situate the tools in space and time.

This study shows that geophysical methods—long a staple in European archaeology—are just as valuable in southern Africa. With the right equipment, researchers can find the invisible stratigraphy of human life in places where digging alone won't do.

"Open-air sites are no longer second-class citizens in archaeology," said Hatswell. "With geophysics, they're just as rich—if not richer—than the caves."

Related Research

* Ames, C. J. H., et al. (2020). Evaluating erosional impacts on open-air archaeological sites along the Doring River, South Africa: Methods and implications for research prioritization. Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences, 12, 103. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12520-020-01061-x

* Phillips, N., et al. (2023). Sedimentary processes and preservation at the open-air MSA site of Uitspankraal 7, Western Cape, South Africa. Geoarchaeology, 38(1), 21–48. https://doi.org/10.1002/gea.21873

* Mackay, A., et al. (2023). Geophysical investigations at Klipfonteinrand rock shelter. South African Archaeological Bulletin, 78(207), 9–19.

* Fuchs, M., et al. (2008). Geoarchaeological and chronostratigraphical investigations of open-air sites in the Geelbek dunes, South Africa. Geoarchaeology, 23(4), 425–449. https://doi.org/10.1002/gea.20226

* Herries, A. I. R., et al. (2023). Stratigraphy and site formation at Amanzi Springs, South Africa, based on geophysical survey. Quaternary International, 658, 1242–1258. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quaint.2022.07.012

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At a limestone rock shelter called Riparo Tagliente in northern Italy, a young man's remains have been whispering a violent story for decades. His partial skeleton, discovered in 1973 and dating to roughly 17,000 years ago, had long intrigued archaeologists for its ceremonial burial. But the cause of his death remained speculative—until now.

In a recent reanalysis published in Scientific Reports, bioarchaeologists used high-resolution 3D microscopy and scanning electron microscopy (SEM) to examine deep incisions in the man's femur and tibia. What they found offers one of the earliest, most direct pieces of evidence for lethal intergroup conflict during the Late Upper Paleolithic.

A Hidden History in Bone

Tagliente 1, as the individual is known, lived in the Lessini Mountains during the Late Epigravettian period, a time when humans were recolonizing the southern Alpine region after the Last Glacial Maximum. His burial had all the hallmarks of ritual: a shallow grave, engraved stones, ochre-stained pebbles, and a pierced shell. But it is his injuries that tell a darker story.

Microscopic analysis of the incisions on his femur and tibia revealed that they were not post-mortem damage, nor the result of animal gnawing, nor marks of ritual defleshing. These were projectile impact marks (PIMs), consistent with wounds caused by flint-tipped weapons launched at high speed.

"These wounds could not have been caused by butchery or trampling. Their shape, depth, and microstriations are entirely consistent with experimental data on projectile trauma," noted the study's lead bioarchaeologist.

The most telling detail? The orientation of the wounds. One projectile struck the front of his thigh, from above. Another entered from behind his lower leg. The pattern suggests he was either fleeing or ambushed by attackers from multiple directions.

The Paleolithic Politics of Violence

Interpersonal violence among Paleolithic humans is notoriously difficult to identify. Unlike mass graves or embedded weapons, skeletal evidence from this period is sparse and fragmentary. Yet projectile weapons—arrows, darts, or spears—require a certain level of planning and distance, making them ideal for ambushes or skirmishes between groups.

Tagliente 1's wounds fit this context. The projectiles appear to have come from different angles, and the lack of healing indicates he died almost immediately. One of the femoral wounds lay perilously close to the main artery, suggesting a quick and fatal hemorrhage.

"The trauma pattern supports the hypothesis of intergroup aggression rather than accidental injury or internal dispute," said one of the authors. "This is not a personal duel. This is something more coordinated."

A Prehistoric Cold War?

The Late Epigravettian period was one of ecological transition. As glaciers retreated, human populations expanded into new territory. In this patchwork of newly available land, groups may have come into closer contact, competing for game, water, or raw materials. Resource stress could easily have sparked hostilities.

But conflict wasn’t just about survival. In mobile forager societies, violence may also have been performative—a way to assert dominance, defend territory, or prevent encroachment.

"We tend to idealize hunter-gatherers as peaceful egalitarians," remarked one prehistoric anthropologist unaffiliated with the study. "Finds like this disrupt that narrative and remind us that lethal violence has deep roots."

A Dignified Death After a Violent End

Despite the violence, the burial of Tagliente 1 was careful and ceremonial. Large engraved stones covered his legs. He was interred supine, with arms extended, as was customary. The presence of symbolic objects—ochre pebbles, a pierced shell, and a bovid horn—suggests he was mourned.

This juxtaposition of violence and ritual care hints at the social significance of his death. Perhaps he was seen as a victim of honor, or perhaps his death threatened the cohesion of his group and required ritual containment.

Conclusion

The case of Tagliente 1 challenges long-held assumptions about the origins of violence. It reminds archaeologists that for every Paleolithic handprint on a cave wall or carved animal figurine, there might be a wound carved in bone—a less visible but no less telling artifact of human behavior.

"This burial is not just a data point. It's a story of conflict, loss, and memory written in the body of a young man," one researcher reflected. "And it's a story we are only beginning to read."

Related Studies

* Churchill, S. E., et al. (2009). Shanidar 3 Neandertal rib puncture wound and Paleolithic weaponry. Journal of Human Evolution, 57(2), 163–178. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jhevol.2009.05.010

* Crevecoeur, I., et al. (2021). New insights on interpersonal violence in the Late Pleistocene based on the Nile valley cemetery of Jebel Sahaba. Scientific Reports, 11, 9991. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-021-89386-y

* Duches, R., et al. (2016). Identification of Late Epigravettian hunting injuries: Descriptive and 3D analysis of experimental projectile impact marks on bone. Journal of Archaeological Science, 66, 88–102. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jas.2016.01.005

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The Ancient Pulse of Copán

Deep in the fertile Copán Valley of western Honduras, beneath layers of stone and time, lies the memory of a once-thriving Maya city-state. Copán was a ceremonial and political powerhouse at the southern edge of the Maya world—an outpost that bore witness to centuries of cultural fusion, dynastic ambition, and eventual collapse.

Now, the bones of its former inhabitants are speaking again. In a new study published in Current Biology, an international team of researchers led by geneticist Shigeki Nakagome and archaeologist Mary E. Murray has extracted and sequenced ancient DNA from seven individuals buried within the city. Their findings add genetic clarity to the story of Copán’s rise and fall—one shaped by migration, political power, and resilience amid societal upheaval.

“We found strong evidence for genetic continuity in the Copán Valley,” said Lucia M. Cassidy, a co-author on the study. “But also clear signs of mobility, likely tied to political and cultural shifts during the Classic period.”

Royals, Sacrifices, and Commoners in Stone

The individuals analyzed in the study came from two major archaeological projects—PICPAC and PROARCO—which excavated burials from both elite and non-elite structures. One was likely royal: interred in a richly furnished tomb, the individual bore genetic and material markers of high status, potentially even of dynastic descent. Another, buried nearby with no indicators of wealth, may have been a sacrificial victim.

“These contrasting burials—royal and sacrificial—provide a vivid glimpse into the social complexity of Classic Copán,” said Dr. Nakamura, a co-author from Kyoto University.

Using DNA extracted from the petrous portion of the skull—known for preserving ancient genetic material—the team compared the Copán genomes to both modern and ancient individuals across the Americas. Their findings revealed that most of the genetic ancestry at Copán can be traced back to local populations who had been in the region since at least the Late Archaic period (roughly 5,600 to 3,700 years ago).

But there was also something else: a subtle but significant gene flow from highland Mexico, estimated at around 6%. This genetic signal aligns well with archaeological theories that suggest Copán’s founding elite may have migrated into the region and mingled with local groups—particularly around the time the city’s first king, K’inich Yax K’uk’ Mo’, assumed power in the early 5th century CE.

Continuity in Collapse

The Classic Maya period—roughly 250 to 900 CE—was a time of monument-building, astronomical precision, and elite rivalry. But by the 9th century, something changed. Droughts, political fractures, and economic instability swept through the region, leading to the widespread decline of many city-states.

At Copán, the genomic data tells a parallel story. The researchers observed a marked decrease in genetic diversity starting around 1,200 years ago, likely due to population decline. This fits the broader narrative of the Maya collapse—an unraveling that was not uniform, but regionally nuanced.

“The population didn’t disappear entirely,” said Dr. Nakagome, “but there was a demographic bottleneck that left a clear genetic signature.”

Interestingly, despite the collapse of dynastic rule and urban life, the local ancestry of the region remained remarkably consistent. The genomes from Copán show clear continuity with modern Maya-speaking communities in Mexico and Central America, suggesting that cultural resilience persisted even after political systems failed.

A Southern Nexus of Maya Civilization

Copán’s location near the southern frontier of the Maya cultural zone made it a place of connection. Its inscriptions show influence from central Mexico; its architecture references Tikal and Teotihuacan. And now, genetic evidence underscores that this flow of ideas and power also moved through people’s bodies.

“Copán wasn’t an isolated city—it was part of a network of movement and integration,” said Dr. Cassidy. “The DNA confirms what archaeologists have long suspected about its role as a cultural and biological crossroads.”

Rewriting Maya History with Ancient DNA

The Copán genomes add to a growing database of ancient DNA from Mesoamerica. Until recently, most genetic studies focused on the highland Maya or Postclassic individuals. This study is one of the first to provide direct evidence from the Classic period itself, helping researchers trace population dynamics at the heart of Maya state formation and decline.

“This kind of data allows us to bridge gaps between archaeology, oral tradition, and biological history,” said Dr. Murray. “We can now begin to see how power, identity, and ancestry were negotiated over generations.”

The work also reflects a wider effort to understand how political shifts ripple through biological populations. Even in collapse, the people of Copán adapted. Their descendants survived, their languages endured, and their genetic legacy continues to circulate across Mesoamerica.

Related Research

* Kennett, D. J., et al. (2022). A demographic shift in Classic Maya society: New paleogenomic insights. Nature Communications, 13(1), 2278.https://doi.org/10.1038/s41467-022-29734-w

* Moreno-Mayar, J. V., et al. (2018). Terminal Pleistocene Alaskan genome reveals first founding population of Native Americans. Nature, 553, 203–207.https://doi.org/10.1038/nature25173

* Guzmán-Saldaña, R., et al. (2021). Ancient genomes reveal early population structure of the Central Andes. Cell, 184(6), 1242–1255.e17.https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cell.2021.01.046

* Wang, T., et al. (2025). Prehistoric genomes from Yunnan reveal ancestry related to Tibetans and Austroasiatic speakers. Science, 388(6750).https://doi.org/10.1126/science.adq9792

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The Cave That Watched History

Tucked into the western flank of Iran’s Zagros Mountains, Wezmeh Cave has long been a quiet witness to the drama of ecological and human history. Near the modern city of Kermanshah, this limestone chamber once echoed with the footsteps of bears, hyenas, Neanderthals, and eventually early herders.

Now, after more than a decade of sporadic excavation, the cave is offering a vivid picture of environmental transformation and long-term human-animal interaction in a rugged corner of the Iranian Plateau. A 2019 field season led by archaeologist Fereidoun Biglari, Iran’s National Museum, recovered more than 11,000 well-preserved animal bones—making Wezmeh one of the richest prehistoric faunal sites in Western Asia.

“From large carnivores to domesticated livestock, the variety of species at Wezmeh is unmatched on the Iranian Plateau,” said Dr. Hossein Davoudi, zooarchaeologist at the University of Tehran.

The research team includes Dr. Marjan Mashkour, a CNRS and University of Tehran scholar whose career has been spent tracing the relationship between ancient humans and animals across Southwest Asia. Together, the team has begun to reconstruct a detailed ecological history—one bone fragment at a time.

Lions, Hyenas, and Herders

The bones tell a story spanning tens of thousands of years. Some belonged to extinct megafauna, like Panthera spelaea (the Eurasian cave lion) and Crocuta crocuta spelaea (the spotted hyena), once roaming the Pleistocene steppe. Other specimens point to later intrusions: domesticated sheep (Ovis aries) and goats (Capra hircus), likely brought by early Neolithic pastoralists.

“The cave was alternately a predator’s den, a death trap, and a human shelter,” said Dr. Mashkour. “But what makes it stand out is how well the faunal succession mirrors both climate change and cultural shifts.”

The team’s findings show how human presence was intermittent, but meaningful. Some bones display burning, while others are butchered or fractured in ways that suggest food processing. Small hearth features and domestic faunal remains point to episodic use of the cave during the Neolithic and Chalcolithic—by people who herded animals, gathered plants, and perhaps sought shelter during seasonal migrations.

And Wezmeh isn’t just an animal story. Earlier excavations uncovered the fossilized premolar of a Neanderthal child, as well as Early Neolithic human remains—revealing that hominins of more than one kind once passed through this sheltering space.

A Rare Look at a Changing Plateau

Today, Kermanshah is semi-arid and sparsely wooded. But buried beetle fragments and savannah animal bones from Wezmeh suggest a far different past—one in which the region was wetter, greener, and capable of supporting a diverse array of large herbivores.

This makes Wezmeh more than just an archaeological site; it’s a paleoenvironmental archive. Its long stratigraphy offers insight into how species—and humans—responded to fluctuating climates in the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene. The cave's faunal record aligns with other key Zagros sites but stands out for its sheer breadth and state of preservation.

“Wezmeh is not just a list of species. It’s a narrative of adaptation, resilience, and ecological change,” said Dr. Biglari. “Its continuous occupation from the Middle Paleolithic to the early Holocene makes it an unparalleled resource for studying deep-time human-animal dynamics.”

Why It Matters

Sites like Wezmeh are rare. In regions where preservation conditions are often poor, finding a dense and chronologically deep record of animal life is invaluable. For anthropologists and archaeologists, the bones are clues—not just to what animals lived where, but to how ancient humans adapted, hunted, herded, and moved across the Zagros.

The discovery also serves a broader purpose. As the Middle East faces intensifying ecological stress today, understanding how ancient peoples responded to environmental shifts could shed light on strategies for future resilience.

Related Research and Further Reading

* Bailey, G. N., & King, G. C. P. (2011). Dynamic Landscapes and Human Evolution: The Case for Africa. Quaternary Science Reviews, 30(11-12), 1313–1331.https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quascirev.2011.01.017

* Zanolli, C., Biglari, F., Mashkour, M., Abdi, K., Monchot, H., Debue, K., Mazurier, A., Bayle, P., Le Luyer, M., Rougier, H., Trinkaus, E., & Macchiarelli, R. (2019). A Neanderthal from the Central Western Zagros, Iran. Structural reassessment of the Wezmeh 1 maxillary premolar. Journal of Human Evolution, 135, 102643.DOI: 10.1016/j.jhevol.2019.102643

* Zeder, M. A. (2012). The Broad Spectrum Revolution at 40: Resource diversity, intensification, and an alternative to optimal foraging explanations. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology, 31(3), 241–264.https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jaa.2012.03.003

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Stretching between two great bends of the Nile, the Bayuda Desert in central Sudan rarely features in grand narratives of early human history. But a six-year archaeological project has placed it decisively on the map. Polish archaeologists have identified more than 1,200 new archaeological sites across this rugged expanse, pushing the timeline of human presence in this desert back nearly two million years.

Led by researchers from the University of Wrocław, the Polish Centre of Mediterranean Archaeology at the University of Warsaw, and the Archaeological Museum of Gdańsk, the project not only confirmed Bayuda’s place in the prehistory of northeast Africa but also revealed the diversity of its use over millennia.

"This region, long overshadowed by more prominent Nile Valley sites, holds a stratified archive of human occupation and movement," said Prof. Henryk Paner, one of the project leaders.

The Salt Mountain and a Vanished Lake

At the heart of the desert lies Jebel El-Muwelha, known locally as the Salt Mountain. Nearby, archaeologists discovered traces of a paleolake that once held saline water, a rare find in an arid environment. This lake likely served as a source of natron, the mineral famously used in Egyptian mummification practices and early glass production.

Its location hints at the region’s wider economic and ritual significance. The team believes the natron resource may have connected this now-remote desert to broader ancient trade networks.

From the Oldowan to the Levallois: A Paleolithic Tapestry

The earliest material recovered includes Oldowan tools, some of the oldest known stone technologies, dating from between 2.6 and 1.7 million years ago. Nearby, Acheulean artifacts such as hand axes and large bifacial flakes speak to the presence of early Homo erectus.

A later phase of occupation is marked by the presence of Levallois cores—a more refined stone-flaking technique associated with Homo sapiens. The method involves strategic preparation of a stone core to remove a single flake of predetermined size and shape.

"Its use involved the need to perform many intermediate steps to shape the core in a way that allowed the removal of a single flake of the intended shape," noted Prof. Paner. "This indicates the early presence of Homo sapiens in this part of Africa."

Cemeteries of the Living and the Dead

Beyond tools, the survey identified dozens of burial grounds. On the slopes of Jebel El Gharra, the team excavated what is now considered the only known Mesolithic cemetery in the Bayuda Desert. At least 16 adults were buried there in multiple layers, dating to the 7th to 6th millennia BCE. Shells, stone pendants, and ostrich eggshell beads accompanied the dead.

Even more intriguing were the beetle remains found inside a clay vessel at a Kerma culture cemetery (c. 2500–1500 BCE). These, along with faunal traces of savannah species, suggest that Bayuda was once greener—a landscape more hospitable to life and mobility.

Life on the Savannah Fringe

One particularly rich site, nicknamed the "Hunters' Settlement," was found at the base of Jebel El-Fuel. With nearly 3,400 stone tools, over 2,000 pottery fragments, and 300 animal bone remains, it provides a snapshot of a foraging community around 6000 BCE. The absence of domestic species points clearly to a hunter-gatherer economy.

"These tools and bones tell us that wild fauna were central to human subsistence," said archaeologist Małgorzata Osypińska, a faunal specialist on the project. "And their abundance suggests a semi-permanent or repeatedly visited settlement."

A Layered Landscape of Movement and Memory

The Polish team's work not only catalogues artifacts; it paints a portrait of the Bayuda as a palimpsest of human endeavor. From the oldest stone tools to medieval grave markers, the region records responses to environmental shifts, technological adaptation, and deep ritual life.

The discoveries also expand the known cultural boundaries of the ancient Kerma polity, hinting that its influence extended deeper into the desert than previously thought.

Bayuda's desert silence, it turns out, hides a story written in stone, clay, and bone—a record of people who made their lives at the edge of the Nile and the threshold of history.

Related Research

* Hublin, J.-J., & Klein, R. G. (2013). The Origin of Modern Humans. Evolution of the Human Brain, Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-642-39979-4_13

* Scerri, E. M. L., et al. (2018). Did our species evolve in subdivided populations across Africa, and why does it matter? Trends in Ecology & Evolution, 33(8), 582–594. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tree.2018.05.005

* Osypińska, M., & Osypiński, P. (2020). Hunter-gatherers on the Nile: The Early Holocene of the Middle Nile Valley. Quaternary International, 546, 1-15. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quaint.2020.03.001

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