One of the major archaeological museums, the Pergamon Museum in Berlin, serves as an example to discuss present problems of museology. I argue that the development of museums has to be analysed from a combination of perspectives, including an historical one, that of visitors and of museum staff. In a first section, the paper outlines the history of the Pergamon Museum, including an institutional history and the larger socio–political framework. To highlight the range of possibilities of understanding, I give two readings of the museum from the viewpoints of differently oriented visitors, one colonialist, the other postmodern. I then consider current debates among curators and distinguish between two main exhibition strategies, one pragmatist, the other purist. Finally, I discuss the larger framework in which museums exist, which shows their problematic status. Using critical theory's distinction between culture industry and affirmative (elite) culture, I show that the Pergamon and other museums survive today only through an uneasy compromise between these two extreme poles of culture.

‘Reflexiveness’ is a term used for the growth of discussions in archaeology on its history, epistemology, and social relevance. While much of this reflecting refers to the relation of archaeology and nationalism, leading to insights into the politicisation of archaeological research and presentation to the public and the use of the past for ideological purposes, still we can witness many parallels to the use of prehistory for the creation of a European identity. After briefly commenting on discussions on different nationalisms and national and cultural identity, I will present a short history of ideas of Europe, followed by a consideration of two examples of the attempt to create the lacking founding myth of post-cold-war Europe. In the end, it is argued that a ‘Reflexive Theory’ should necessarily replace current rather politically motivated ‘reflexiveness’ and is needed to examine critically the Europeanist notion of European archaeology.

In an extremely rich and informed essay, Bernbeck offers sophisticated insights into the problems confronting museology today. Using the Pergamon Museum as a case study, he draws out specific issues facing the museum into broader theoretical questions, and thus reaches conclusions of much wider relevance. Finally, he brings these wider theoretical views back to the particular situation in order to comment on future plans for the Pergamon Museum. As if offering a virtual tour, Bernbeck takes the reader through the museum offering a variety of perspectives – historical outline, colonialist and post-modern visitor's viewpoints, current debates and conflicting theories in museology, critical theory of museum culture consumption, planning for changes in the Pergamon Museum. But he is also well aware of the politics of such a ‘reading tour’, and his essay, quite self-consciously, offers a series of possibilities for engaging in discussion and further dialogue.

The museum is a construct; the collections and the physical building are enclosed by a structure, invisible to the eye, which is created by the context in which the museum is being viewed. The nature of that structure will depend on the viewer; he or she will make his or her own meanings. Reinhard Bernbeck, in his paper The exhibition of architecture and the architecture of an exhibition, has investigated how the Pergamon Museum can simultaneously mean different things to different people, according to their cultural perspective. What is at the core of this is the political and social nature of museums, and one of the most dominant aspects of this is the demonstration of power. This determines how the museum collects, interprets and displays both the objects and itself, and is related to both Bernbeck's colonial and postmodern readings of the museum, as well has his discussion of ‘pragmatist’ and ‘purist’ approaches to museums in general. Though his paper is based on a case study of the Pergamon Museum in Berlin, the issues he raised are applicable to museums elsewhere. In this response to his paper, I am going to look at what this demonstration of power reflects about what museums mean and how they function and relate Bernbeck's evaluation to museum development I am most familiar with, that in Ireland.

The proliferation of European Union law and policies and their impact on Member States appear to be issues very much connected with the future of the political union of Europe. Heritage management practice in Member States is also being affected by legal developments promoted by E.U. institutions. This article attempts to assess the E.U.'s growth of interest in cultural heritage matters as part of a broader political context, which involves issues ranging from economic development to ‘European’ identity. The successful cultural integration of Member States is being pursued by the E.U. on the basis of a common cultural heritage. Does the perceived legal necessity for uniformity in Member State's heritage management pose a danger to the differences and particularities that stem from the diverse pasts in the E.U.?

I thank the commentators for their thoughtful and constructive critiques of my paper. They have led me to reconsider some substantial issues. In my reply, I will address five major themes around which the comments are centred: the question of historical detail; the development of German philhellenism; national identity and politics of culture; commodification and museological work; and finally the idea of museums as institutions ‘for the people’.

I would like to begin by saluting these two different but complementary contributions. Compared to the many works, sometimes questionable and often redundant, published in this field, not only are they convincing, but above all, they truly bring something new.

For more than a decade, since the mid-80s, the context of archaeology has changed rapidly and profoundly all over Europe. We are still in the middle of this development and numerous recent publications show an increasing awareness of archaeologists about its causes and implications. This is what Gramsch in his paper calls the self-reflexive approach and I join him in his appeal for the development of an archaeological reflexive theory embedded in sociological theory and epistemology. Not only to help us to be better aware of the changing context of our work but also to provide us with the insights and the tools to cope with such change.

This paper writes a history of the forensic excavations in Argentina of the remains of ‘the disappeared’; people who were abducted and murdered under the military governments of the 1970s and early 1980s. The physical remains of these people were, and still are, located at a nexus of desires and attempts to reconstruct both individual and national collective memory, through creating and sustaining the individual and collective identities of the disappeared. As such the human remains have become a vigorously contested site for different and irreconcilable constructions. This paper considers the ambiguity of human remains; the tensions between humans as bodies and as people, the difficult issue of human embodiment after death, and the incompatible narratives that arise from these ambiguities. A textual analysis of the narratives created around the excavations of the disappeared in the Argentinian and English speaking media is used to illustrate the ways in which archaeological narratives about the dead are used in the creation of conflicting societal and personal constructions of the human body in Argentina, and the effect that this has had on the ways the disappeared are remembered.

This article offers an interpretation of the structure and meaning of a mortuary ritual at Tell Sabi Abyad in Syria. Remains of this funeral have been uncovered in the ‘Burnt Village’, a late neolithic settlement largely destroyed by fire. The possibly intentional and ritual burning of the settlement is related to the mortuary ritual; it is suggested that here we have evidence for an extended ‘death ritual’ ending, but also transforming, human and material life. Death, fire and abandonment, then, seem to have been closely related. Some examples suggest that these relations also existed at other neolithic sites in the Near East.

‘All quiet on the western front’ (Härke 1991) for years on end, and now, suddenly two theoretical works out of Germany, one of them even of handbook-character – what's happening? Is the enmity towards theoretical discourse of mainstream German archaeology (Eggert and Veit 1998, 11) finally abating?

How did people feed themselves in the past? Archaeologists have been asking this question since the early years of the discipline and it remains an important topic to the present day. Perhaps not surprisingly, eating and drinking are among the most essential activities for human survival. Moreover, even though we do not frequently excavate food in a strict sense of the term, a great deal of the artefacts that we find are directly or indirectly related to food, its procurement and production, preparation and consumption and its waste products. In recent years, archaeologists increasingly recognise the cultural and social significance of food (and the animals and plant from which it stems). In this introduction to a special section on the archaeology of food and foodways I would like to reflect briefly on the potential of food archaeologies for studying diverse aspects of life as well as social processes in past societies.

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

This paper reflects on the recent flourishing of the interdisciplinary study of food. Central is the notion that food forms a meeting-place for nature and culture, thereby overcoming this cartesian dichotomy. The paper starts from a discussion of the work of the French anthropologist P. Descola.

Because of the climate and the nature of the sites, most archaeological material in the Near East has survived the passage of time in a reasonably well preserved state (at least, until recent decades). It remains true, however, that occasional deposits with exceptional preservation provide a level of detail that opens up new areas of interpretation to archaeologists. The classic examples are, perhaps, Çatalhöyük and Nahal Hemar. The ‘Burnt Village’ at Sabi Abyad is proving to be another where the new evidence is leading to a series of publications offering interpretations of the settlement which will have profound implications for our perception of the late Neolithic in northern Mesopotamia. This stimulating article amplifies one area of discussion, attempting to bring some of the most striking features of the ‘Burnt Village’ into a single, unified interpretation. Importantly, this unified interpretation draws on a range of contemporary approaches to understanding the past and, given the tendency of near eastern archaeologists to function in a degree of isolation from wider archaeological trends, this article is to be particularly welcomed. Inevitably it can be criticised in certain areas and it might have gone further in others but these comments start from the basis of welcoming, enjoying and being stimulated by this piece of work.

I am most grateful for the critical, yet on the whole positive and inspiring reactions of Stuart Campbell and Jonathan Last, who offer ample opportunities for an archaeological dialogue. Besides specific questions, they raise a number of important issues which have a general theoretical significance. Last, moreover, presents some new and most interesting data on horned objects from Çatalhöyük West, whereas Campbell comes up with some additional and intriguing examples of the relations between death, fire and abandonment in the late Neolithic of the Near East. In my reply I wish to start with the specific issues before I move on to more general topics.

The iron age settlement at Sollas, North Uist, Scotland, provides an unusually varied set of data relating to food and the role of animals in society. By comparing the evidence of food residues on pottery with animal remains from middens, foundation burials and cremations, structural patterns emerge which throw light on the relative status of domestic species. Sheep and cows are treated differently, with sheep being mainly buried, and cattle cremated. This patterning enables a speculative world view of the inhabitants to be constructed, and further analysis shows that mature cattle were classified differently from younger animals. It is suggested that these normally hidden structuring principles cause difficulties for the conventional interpretation of animal remains on other iron age sites.

In their article ‘Romancing the stones: towards a virtual and elemental Avebury’ (Archaeological dialogues 1998, 5.2, 143–64), Joshua Pollard and Mark Gillings argued that traditional cartography no longer suffices to understand sites like Avebury. In the absence of excavation, new technological possibilities like Virtual Reality and GIS were according to them more than electronic gadgets but genuine alternatives to the usual maps and plans. Mark Bowden takes issues with what he perceives to be exaggerated criticisms of traditional archaeological survey techniques. In particular, he suggests that, far from being ‘sterile’ as Pollard and Gillings state, conventional survey plans are imbued with meaning, and are essential tools of analysis and interpretation. Users of archaeological earthwork plans must study them carefully and be critically aware to get the greatest benefit from them. Innovative new approaches must be pursued vigorously, but well-tested traditional techniques which still have value should not be abandoned lightly, Bowden argues. Pollard and Gillings reply to this challenging criticism.

On the basis of the Post-Roman surface finds from the Boeotia Survey in central Greece, the use and social meaning of glazed vessels as table utensils from Byzantine to Ottoman times (ca. 10th–19th centuries A.D.) will be discussed, as well as the cultural changes in dining manners in that period. It is the intention of this paper to approach this evolution of “wining and dining” habits in an interdisciplinary perspective, in which archaeological data, textual sources and iconographical information will be combined.