Back to Basics
Some years ago I took a group of students on a training weekend in the Preseli hills, an area rich in folklore and ancient monuments. On our final day we gathered for a summary meeting in the magnificently basic roundhouse at Castell Henllys, a reconstructed Iron Age village in its original location on an old hill-fort. The theme of our weekend had been to explore how to respond co-operatively, constructively, and creatively, to change and challenge. As we commenced our forum in the deeply atmospheric gloom, we were pleasantly interrupted by an essentially inquisitive and fervent archaeologist who was working on site and curious to know why we were there.
When we told him the theme of our weekend, he was instantly enthused to tell us all about the vagaries of life thousands of years ago and the kind of crucial situations to which the original residents of this site (early Celtic immigrants) had to respond. We learned how news, ideas and information would be delivered from afar by itinerant traders, drovers, craftsmen, musicians and storytellers. All played their roles in the dynamics of over two thousand such hill-fort communities across Iron Age Britain - and beyond. The original slow-motion worldwide web.
In tune with our mission he then presented us with a question - to consider what might have been the most significant local asset for the permanent sustainability and survival of this village, and thereby, where might the ultimate influences lie? He went off, leaving a dozen sharp young multi-disciplinary minds buzzing with ideas. We made a list of essential resources: obviously water, location/outlook/defence, food, fish, ocean nearby, woodland, grassland, pub, good earth, mud for walls, clay, rocks, minerals, iron, Marks & Spencers for pants, max sunlight, woad, wild boar for burgers, good views, pub, magic mushrooms, earth magic …
On Archae’s return, we presented our list, but were humbled to have overlooked the Biggie, which was the proximity of reed-beds. Reeds for roof thatching of course, though there was a more critical aspect than mere home comfort. Our man of the moment pointed out that to make the break from nomadic hunter-gathering to the initial agricultural ways that enabled people to create a permanent settlement was dependent on one crucial step. It was one thing to gather grains and wild grasses to make porridge and more importantly, beer, but it was another to store and maintain the quality of seed through the long wet winter months, both for food and for managed planting. For farming to succeed, dry seed had to be stored in special raised huts with leakproof roofing skillfully thatched with quality reeds. This made it essential to establish good terms with the reed barons. Meanwhile, if your crops were successful, and you thrived, you had more to lose, so you then needed to defend your settlement against marauders. Roving raiders could also disable you by blocking your critical supplies, or form overwhelming siege allegiances.
So nothing really changes, with the same old manoeuvres for energy and control between our multitudinous Plastic Age hillforts, their landlords and the ever-ready warlords. Merchants and monopolies, sanctions and sieges - we have already blundered into our third world war, as the pressure of climate change bares our vulnerabilities, compromises our values and raises the stakes for jealously guarded basic resources. We’ll be needing more than a bundle of reeds and a catapult this time around.