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Archaeology and slave
resistance and rebellion
Charles E. Orser Jr & Pedro P.A. Funari
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slave resistance and rebellion, World Archaeology, 33:1, 61-72
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Archaeology and slave resistance and
rebellion
Charles E. Orser, Jr. and Pedro P. A. Funari
Abstract
The archaeology of New World slavery has exponentially expanded during the past two decades to
become perhaps the most inuential area within today’s historical archaeology. As part of this
research endeavour, archaeologists have examined many kinds of sites and have made diverse and
important contributions to the literature. Sites associated with fugitive slaves have been studied, but
not as frequently. We argue that the archaeology of slave resistance and rebellion should be a key
element of New World slave archaeology, and we promote the excavation of runaway polities, or
maroons, as excellent arenas for such a study. We present an example from Palmares in north-
eastern Brazil as part of this exploration.
Keywords
New World; slavery; resistance; rebellion; Palmares; Brazil.
Introduction
The investigation of slavery has matured within recent years into a staple of research in
New World historical archaeology (Orser 1990, 1998; Singleton 1995, 1999). Archaeolo-
gists have examined such topics as the material culture of slavery, slave diet and subsist-
ence, and the development and maintenance of slave craft industries. Many
archaeologists have also begun to consider the archaeological dimensions of slave
religions, myths and eschatological symbolism. Some of today’s most theoretically robust
investigations involve examinations of the material expressions of slave ethnicity and
perceived racial categorization. Archaeologists exploring these broad topics have some-
times embedded issues of slave resistance within their research, making it a small but
important segment of this burgeoning area of archaeological specialization. In this paper
we explore the archaeological nature of slave resistance and propose that the archae-
ology of slave resistance and rebellion should be an overt cornerstone of the archaeology
of New World slavery. We include an example from Palmares, Brazil, to reinforce our
argument.
World Archaeology Vol. 33(1): 61–72 The Archaeology of Slavery
© 2001 Taylor & Francis Ltd ISSN 0043-8243 print/1470-1375 online
DOI: 10.1080/0043824012004763 6

62 Charles E. Orser, Jr. and Pedro P. A. Funari
The archaeology of resistance and rebellion
The archaeologists in the late 1960s who began the examination of slavery and slave life
typically approached the subject as an exercise in cultural identiŽcation. The goals of the
earliest slave-related archaeology of necessity included the completely mundane, but
absolutely required task of determining the nature of slave material culture. They had few
a priori expectations about what they would Žnd buried at abandoned slave settlements
since sites of that kind had never been excavated before in any serious manner (see, e.g.,
Fairbanks 1983, 1984). Faced with the lack of precise archaeological knowledge about the
material nature of New World slavery, archaeologists found it impossible to refute the
commonly held belief that slaves did not have an active, expressive material culture.
Archaeologists examining slave life in the New World have completely exploded this myth
as both the archaeologists’ interpretative sophistication and the shear amount of their
research has exponentially expanded (Singleton and Bograd 1995).
The archaeology of slave resistance and rebellion evolved as part of the larger project
to understand the African diasporic experience, but it also benefited from two princi-
pal influences that originated outside the discipline: detailed research on the historical
and social elements of slave uprisings by historians and anthropologists (e.g., Aptheker
1943; James 1969; Price 1979), and the growing realization by some archaeologists that
many of the developing civil rights movements around the world were anchored in
traditions of resistance that often had long-standing historical roots. As some archae-
ologists began to acknowledge that the search for slave material culture was intellectu-
ally unsatisfying as an end in itself, many of them began to dedicate their research to
unraveling the tensions and conflicts inherent in a system that enslaved some men and
women for the profit of others. The topic of freedom necessarily arose once this new
line of inquiry was adopted (Leone et al. 1995), and it then became possible to perceive
the archaeology of New World slavery as pertinent to revealing the history and social
character of the conscious efforts of enslaved men and women to forge freedom on their
own terms.
Some archaeologists used the remains they excavated at plantation sites to argue for
the polyvalent nature of material culture, with at least some artefacts being used in muted
or ambiguous ways to suggest slave resistance. They began to perceive that some exca-
vated artefacts, when fully contextualized within the slave community, could have been
used both functionally and symbolically. Thus, slaves may have used some seemingly utili-
tarian objects – such as pottery and smoking pipes – to promote group cohesion and self-
identity (e.g., Ferguson 1991; Orser 1991). Archaeologists inclined to study resistance
found the task of making artefact/resistance connections conceptually easier when they
discovered the work of political scientist James Scott (1985, 1990). In two widely read
studies of modern-day Malaysia, Scott demonstrated that the conicts between land-
owners and agricultural workers, rather than being event-driven, were actually elements
of an on-going process that was often extremely subtle.
The acceptance of Scott’s interpretations has several important implications for
archaeological research. First, archaeologists could assume that many instances of daily
resistance cannot be counted upon to have left material traces. Sabotage of machinery,
tools and personal possessions, surreptitious destruction of crops or maiming of animals,

Archaeology and slave resistance and rebellion 63
feigning ignorance, clumsiness, self-mutilation and suicide will not be archaeologically
visible. Such ‘individual acts of resistance’ (Aptheker 1943: 140–9) may have been
extremely short-lived and sporadic. On the contrary, however, Scott’s studies meant that
resistance could be an everyday, perhaps even commonplace, occurrence – even on plan-
tations, where those in positions of power often ruled with ruthless efŽciency. Scott’s
interpretation also implied that it would not be easy for archaeologists to identify the
material ‘arts of resistance’, because it could be assumed that they were both common-
place in number and had other, wholly mundane functions. Slave-made pottery and tiny,
metal Žst amulets (Orser 1994a: 39) are examples of material culture that may contain
muted messages of everyday resistance of the sort that are not readily interpretable as
signs of resistance. The complexities inherent in the daily ‘arts of resistance’ mean that
archaeologists actively searching for tangible evidence of daily resistance will encounter
the same problem initially faced by archaeologists looking for evidence of Africanisms at
New World plantations (see Orser 1998: 67–9). Archaeologists will be searching for some-
thing they have already determined must have existed within the past sociohistorical
context of a particular plantation site. Just as archaeologists examining the material
remains left by Africans in the New World have assumed the presence of Africanisms –
based on their unshakeable belief in the power and tenacity of traditional culture – some
archaeologists believe that enslaved men and women could not have accepted their
bondage without struggle. This second group of archaeologists must accept the possible
presence of symbols of resistance at plantation sites. Following recent trends in archaeo-
logical research in general, and understanding the difŽculties of charting everyday resist-
ance, many archaeologists engaged in the study of the African diaspora have begun to
concentrate on religion, ritual and symbolism (e.g., Orser 1994a; Stine et al. 1996; Wilkie
1995; Young 1996).
As part of the subtle refocusing of emphasis, some archaeologists may be ready to
abandon resistance as a topic, preferring to promote ‘accommodation’ instead (e.g., Light-
foot et al. 1998; Garman 1998; Webster 1999). We believe to the contrary that this shift in
focus is not entirely healthy for the archaeological examination of African life in the New
World. While we reject the a priori assessment that all slaves resisted their condition at
all times, we nonetheless argue that any attempt to diminish resistance among slave men
and women ignores the harsh realities of human bondage. Any attempt to ignore the
importance of struggle among men and women held in bondage merely serves to reinstate
the old belief that slave resistance and rebellion were rare occurrences (Aptheker 1943:
13).
The archaeological examination of African resistance in the New World, no matter how
formidable a task, will rightly continue to constitute an important line of research in
historical archaeology. Still, the difŽculties archaeologists face in being able to make
unambiguous statements about the cultural, social, and material dimensions of daily
resistance at plantations are formidable. One way through the analytical difŽculties is for
archaeologists interested in resistance to concentrate on a type of historic community
dedicated to resistance and rebellion: the maroon settlement. Maroon polities unques-
tionably provide the best opportunity for archaeologists to make important strides in the
archaeology of slave resistance speciŽcally, and in the understanding of resistance in
general.

64 Charles E. Orser, Jr. and Pedro P. A. Funari
Maroon settlements and archaeological research
Maroon settlements provide fertile ground for the archaeological investigation of the
material expressions of cultural survival and the creation of community by men and
women who were forced to live in strange environments among individuals with whom
they may not be related by lineage, tradition or language family. A growing number of
archaeologists have recognized the potential provided by maroon polities, and archaeo-
logical efforts to locate and to excavate them have begun throughout the Western hemi-
sphere (e.g., Agorsah 1990, 1993; Deagan and MacMahon 1995; García Arévalo 1986;
Guimarães 1990; Nichols 1988; Weik 1997).
One of the reasons that maroon settlements provide excellent research arenas for
archaeologists interested in the broad topics of cultural maintenance and the creation of
community stems from their apparently bounded physicality. Runaway slaves intended
their settlements to be isolated places generally set apart from the society they were aban-
doning. As a result, runaways designed their villages and village clusters as discrete places,
distinguishable on the basis of their separateness. Nonetheless, it would be shortsighted
to propose that maroon settlements were completely isolated. Research demonstrates,
and common sense dictates, that even fugitives could not live in isolation, but had to estab-
lish and work to maintain a series of complex alliances and associations, many of which
extended beyond the limits of their settlements (Orser 1994b). The nature of these
connections, and their meanings within the context of cultural survival, are justiŽable
topics for archaeological investigation.
At the same time, the often-isolated nature of maroon settlements presents severe
archaeological challenges. In the Žrst place, the overt character of maroon settlements –
as habitations of men and women defying bondage, the core of the slave regime – means
that most historical accounts of the polities will have been prepared by outsiders who may
have been unfriendly to the settlement. For this reason, researchers must approach
contemporary historical writings about maroons with caution, recognizing that they may
be biased or even untrue. All historical archaeologists face this problem at most of the
sites they study, but it is an especially serious issue in cases were the men and women
being written about were commonly referred to by outsiders as ‘criminals’ and ‘outlaws’.
Because few Europeans writing about maroons can be expected to have been unbiased,
today’s analysts must carefully evaluate their estimates of population size, their comments
on the simplicity of the maroons’ material culture, their observations about the reliabil-
ity of the food supply, and their assessments of the settlement’s military strength.
At the same time, the isolated nature of maroon settlements often means that they will
be difŽcult to locate on the ground. The creation of maroon communities in remote, inac-
cessible places, such as swamps and mountains, may pose signiŽcant logistical problems
for archaeologists. We may also expect that many maroon settlements will be difŽcult to
identify, given both the need to move frequently and the possible destruction of the settle-
ments by European enemies. Construction of buildings and other structures from locally
available materials may pose the additional problem that maroon communities do not
remain well preserved in the soil or, in some cases, may even resemble indigenous, Native
American settlements.
An equally important element of the archaeology of maroon settlements is that the

Archaeology and slave resistance and rebellion 65
Figure 1 Palmares at the height of its power, mid-1640s–1694.

66 Charles E. Orser, Jr. and Pedro P. A. Funari
village sites will often be venerated by the descendant community and, in some cases, they
may even constitute places of worship. The modern-day relevance of past maroon settle-
ments is signiŽcant to archaeological practice because the investigation of ‘places that
matter’ helps to secure the broader cultural relevance of historical archaeology (McDavid
and Babson 1997; Orser 1998: 76–8).
An example of an archaeology of resistance: Palmares, Brazil
Palmares, a seventeenth-century fugitive polity in Brazil, provides an excellent example
of the importance of struggle and resistance studied by archaeology. Limited archaeo-
logical research at Palmares has yielded evidence that runaway people did not live in
isolation, that historical accounts of the rebel state were biased, that maroon communi-
ties often resemble indigenous settlements, and that maroon descendants have multiple
ways to venerate these once-proud, resisting polities.
The Portuguese developed sugar plantations in Brazil early in their colonial history, and
by 1570 there were already several estates combining African and Native South Ameri-
can slave workforces. These Portuguese plantations were in the north-east of the colony,
while sugar processing and Žnancing were in the hands of the Dutch, who managed to
occupy Pernambuco in 1629 and to stay at Recife until 1654. Runaway slaves settled in
the hilly forest areas, some Žfty miles from the coast, at the beginning of the seventeenth
century. During its initial years, Palmares (‘palm groves’ in Portuguese) derived its name
from its many palmetto trees and its scattered hideouts. Several villages grew up in the
foothills from 45 to 75 miles inland from the coastal plantations stretching over almost
100 miles running roughly parallel to the coast (Allen 1999: 144).
The Žrst expedition against Palmares in 1612 attested to the importance of the polity
already in the Žrst years of the century. As the settlement continued to grow, the Dutch
began to consider Palmares a serious threat, and attacked it several times. In the mid-
1640s, Palmares already comprised nine separate villages (Fig. 1). After the Dutch left
Brazil, the Portuguese carried out several expeditions against Palmares, with a systematic
campaign to destroy it beginning in the 1670s (Funari 1999). Between 1670 and 1678,
under the rule of Ganga Zumba or Great Lord, there seems to have been an active trade
between Palmares and coast settlers (Rowlands 1999: 333). The decline in prices for sugar
and competition from the Caribbean led to the increase in social contradictions between
the élites themselves, and force was used to maintain order in a slave-holding society,
including an increase in the attacks against Palmares.
The attacks sponsored by the authorities did not preclude a continued, unofŽcial and
unsanctioned relationship between maroon residents and ordinary colonizers on the
coast; however, the interests of plantation élites and non-élite commoners were not the
same. Whereas planters suffered because of the escape of their slaves, non-élite settlers
could proŽt from their relations with runaways, through the conduct of a healthy trade.
From the late 1670s, a new ruler of Palmares, King Zumbi, was in charge of its defence.
Pioneers from the south of Brazil, known as Paulistas or bandeirantes, destroyed Macaco,
the capital of Palmares, in 1694, and in the following year executed its leaders, including
Zumbi.

Archaeology and slave resistance and rebellion 67
Macaco was also known as ‘Serra da Barriga’, or Potbelly Hill, and the authors carried
out archaeological Želdwork and identiŽed several sites there (Orser 1994b). Much has
been written about Palmares from historical evidence, but there had been no archaeo-
logical study before the 1990s. Pedestrian surveys to locate archaeological materials were
followed by testing. In the late 1990s, Želdwork was continued (Allen 1999), and most of
the material evidence consists of coarse pottery and ceramics. Three speciŽc wares have
been identiŽed in the collection: native, unglazed pottery; European, glazed ceramics; and
locally made, glazed ceramics.
The archaeological study of Palmares substantiated the notion that the men and
women of the community struggled for freedom and resisted oppression (Funari 1995a).
Documents often assume that slaves internalized their masters’ Weltanschauung and
mores (criticism in Glassman 1995: 140), producing a biased description of subaltern
groups (cf. Funari 1997: 197). In 1613, the people of Palmares were described as the
‘lazy and insulting inhabitants who run away from work’ (Carneiro 1988: 50), and in the
1670s, they were said to be ‘barbarians who [had] all but forgotten their subjugation’
(Allen 1999: 147). The pottery produced or used in the capital tells a different story, as
it reveals the cultural autonomy of the community (cf. Glassman 1991: 278). This auton-
omy, however, did not imply a lack of outside contacts, for the ceramics provide clear
evidence of interaction with both native South Americans and transplanted Europeans.
Interaction with the Europeans is evident in the use of European-style ceramics, with
four varieties of lead-glazed, coarse earthenware in use. These wares were not greatly
dissimilar from contemporary Portuguese and Dutch wares, suggesting relations with
different colonialists. The wares were utilitarian in nature, suggesting that they were
intended for non-élites living on the coast. If this interpretation is correct, then the
coarse earthenwares indicate contacts between maroon residents and non-élite Euro-
pean colonials.
Contact with native Brazilians is also suggested by the pottery of native style. These
Tupinamba vessels are similar to Ovimbundu African pottery, probably indicating a
convergence of African and native traditions. There is no doubt that the pottery is of
native South American style, probably because it was made by female native Brazilians,
who were married to maroon residents. The escaped Africans may have felt comfortable
with the Tupinamba pottery speciŽcally because it did resemble that made in their native
homeland. We have no evidence to suggest that the majority of male Africans controlled
pottery production, either in Africa or in the Americas, and so we prefer to suppose that
the pottery, as a female activitiy, was made by native South American women. Locally
made wares were wheel-thrown and so far they have not been identiŽed elsewhere. The
pottery used at Palmares thus attests both to the integration of the runaway polity into a
much wider world of exchanges – from the Brazilian coast to Africa and to Europe – and
to the polity’s unique character. The material world of Palmares was not native, Euro-
pean or African; it was speciŽc, forged in their Žght for freedom. The same conclusion
was reached recently by Claudi R. Cròs: ‘Palmares was at the heart of a large area of
27,000 square km., occupied by a federation of 11 maroons and several hamlets where
lived, free, from 20 to 30 thousand Africans, Mixed people and even Native South Ameri-
cans’ (1997: 81). But freedom had a price: war.
Palmares was a community at war, Žghting for its very existence, and the state of

68 Charles E. Orser, Jr. and Pedro P. A. Funari
continuous warfare strongly inuenced every aspect of life in the villages. Archaeologically,
it was possible to note that all the sites at the Serra da Barriga are located facing the south,
in a strategic position in relation to the River Mundaú, used by colonial troops to attack the
capital. This landscape is both natural and a cultural artefact. Its signiŽcance and the uses
to which it was put were understood by Palmarino people, and were culturally prescribed
(cf. Palmer 1998: 183). Resistance is, thus, written in the settlement pattern itself.
Historical accounts are biased against resistance Žghters almost by deŽnition. Even
though slavery was widespread in Africa itself, it is not possible to take at face value a
contemporary document in which the author attempts to explain the growth of the
maroon by force, stating that ‘slaves were taken out of plantations against their own will’
(Carneiro 1988: 66). In this telling, Palmarinos menaced the enslaved with knives to impel
them to join the maroon. The same biased view has often continued to be accepted by
later authors, perhaps most notably by German historian Heinrich Handelmann who, in
1860, reproduced the same argument: ‘The inhabitants of Palmares kept people of their
own race in slavery, blacks and colored, if they fell in the hands of the runaways in ex-
pedition, they were split by the victors and used, they and their descent, as bonded maids.
Only when they were recruited to the maroon on their own free will, they were accepted
as citizens’ (1987: 446). Handelmann, thus, makes the assumption that slaves would rather
remain as chattel on the plantations than become servants at Palmares. The available
archaeological evidence, however, does not support the idea that life at Palmares would
be any harsher than in the plantations – even for servants – considering that there is no
evidence of inhuman installations such as sugar mills at the maroon. Despite the bias of
the German historian, it is symptomatic that he uses the word Bürger to refer to the
Palmarinos, for it means both citizen and freeman.
Palmares as a whole, with its 20,000 inhabitants, sheltered probably one in three slaves
in the colony, and the archaeological evidence from the capital of Palmares, despite the
destruction of the site, is enough to substantiate the claim that it was a huge settlement,
comparable only to the largest cities in the colony. The remains of this polity have been
gaining attention only recently, but folklore and tradition kept alive several rituals
commemorating the saga of these rebels. The residents of several towns in the north-east
of Brazil hold festivals to celebrate their churches’ patron saints. Many of these
celebrations incorporate a mock Žght that remembers Palmares. Called ‘Quilombo’, the
Žght pits runaway slaves against native Brazilians and occurs around a fortress. Inside the
protected area are two thrones, one for the black king and one for the queen, a non-
African girl. At one point during the re-enactment, the natives appear armed with bows
and arrows, and led by a king clad in a red tunic and carrying a sword. This oral exchange
then occurs between the two groups:
Natives: Come on, come on, knives are not capable of killing even women . . .
Africans: Don’t worry, black man, the white man cannot come here. If he comes, the
devil will take him.
(Carneiro 1988: 80–1).
The Žght terminates with the victory of the natives, who capture the king and the queen.
Church bells then ring, the fortress is destroyed, the Palmarinos are sold and the queen
is given to a local potentate.

Archaeology and slave resistance and rebellion 69
This story reinterprets Palmares in a rather conservative way, but it also betrays some
historical facts: the multicultural character of Palmares, the Indian troops used to assail
the polity, and the mixed Indian/Portuguese heritage of the bandeirante Domingos Jorge
Velho who commanded the Žnal assault (Funari 1995b). Black and social activists in
general have been reinterpreting Palmares for several decades, constituting the symbolic
descendant community of the rebels (cf. McGuire 1992: 828). Since the 1970s, the Serra
da Barriga has been used as meeting place for all those concerned with raising black
consciousness in Brazil, and in the 1980s – with the restoration of national, civilian rule –
it was declared a National Heritage Monument (Santos 1995). The archaeological study
of the Serra da Barriga has focused the discussion on the importance of the site for a more
democratic, less partial and racist interpretation of Brazilian society at large. Given this
high proŽle, the national media have paid special attention to the site and have helped to
contribute to a wider debate about the history and culture of Palmares.
Conclusion
Archaeology is in an excellent position to study the dynamic interaction between rulers
and ruled, focusing on conicts and social clashes (Funari et al. 1999). Historical archae-
ology can challenge master narratives of power which are often represented in documents,
as we have shown in the comparative study of written sources on Palmares and material
culture from the archaeological sites. Furthermore, we believe that the example of
Palmares points to the importance of recognizing that archaeology deals with evidence of
conict as much as compliance, and that the archaeologist cannot claim to be a neutral
observer of the evidence (Funari 1996). The material evidence from Palmares is, however,
clear enough to challenge biased and conservative interpretations of the settlement
(Funari and Podgorny 1998). Recognizing that what we as archaeologists do must be seen
in the contexts of history and society (Shanks 1994: 32), the archaeology of slave resist-
ance and rebellion can play an important role in fostering empowerment and critical
awareness. Palmares is a reminder that archaeology can successfully play this role.
Acknowledgements
Charles Orser wishes to thank Janice Orser for assisting with this paper. Pedro Funari
wishes to thank the following colleagues for their assistance: Scott Joseph Allen, Jonathon
Glassman, Martin Hall, Siân Jones, Leandro Karnal, Randall McGuire, Irina Podgorny,
Michael Rowlands and Michael Shanks. We also wish to acknowledge Jack Scott for
drawing the Žgure. We are solely responsible for the ideas presented here.
Professor Charles Orser
Illinois State University, USA
Professor Paulo A. Funari
Campinas State University, Brazil

70 Charles E. Orser, Jr. and Pedro P. A. Funari
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