Constructing a kingdom: Architectural strategies and the nature of leadership at Postclassic Xaltocan,Mexico

Abstract

This paper explores the diverse motivations, limitations, and political strategies that informed the architectural decisions made by the Postclassic (ad 900–1521) leaders of Xaltocan, Mexico. In the early 13th century—a period of political florescence at Xaltocan—local leaders embarked on an ambitious building program that included the construction of a monumental adobe platform which served as a base to the residential structures of Xaltocan’s leaders. This paper investigates the significance of adobe bricks as a construction medium and outlines the various economic, social, and political factors that influenced the architectural decisions of Xaltocan’s leaders. Analysis of these factors reveals the diverse strategies employed by Xaltocan’s leaders to establish their legitimacy among their regional peers, assert their political dominance over their constituents, and foster a sense of unity within their home community.

Keywords

Social organization authority identity architecture archaeology of communities Postclassic Mexico

Introduction

During the early centuries of the Postclassic period (ad 900–1521), the Basin of Mexico was characterized by a growing number of political centers. Among these emerging polities was the island community of Xaltocan, located in the northern Basin of Mexico. Xaltocan rose to regional prominence between roughly ad 1200 and ad 1395 as the capital of the Otomí city-state. In the early decades of this period of political prosperity, the leaders of Xaltocan embarked on an ambitious building program that transformed the scale and appearance of a large mound located near the center of town. This building program involved the construction of a large adobe platform that stretched across much of the surface of the mound and substantially elevated the structures that were built atop it. Archaeological evidence suggests that these structures probably served as the residences of Xaltocan’s leaders. Thus, the adobe platform physically elevated Xaltocan’s leaders relative to their local constituents, which served to affirm their social and political superiority within the community. The monumentality of the platform would have also helped Xaltocan’s leaders establish their legitimacy among their regional peers by demonstrating their ability to marshal a substantial labor force.

While the building program served to underscore the elevated status of Xaltocan’s leaders, I argue that it was also used as a mechanism to foster local solidarity. Defining “local” is complicated, especially given that Xaltocan was a city-state with a domain that expanded far beyond the island core. However, I argue that while Xaltocan’s leaders depended on the entire domain for resources and labor, city-state identity was generated largely from the capital city (e.g. Mundy, 2015: 10), and thus by the community of people living on the island. Across the island of Xaltocan, adobe was a ubiquitous construction medium—even across class lines—and may have had important implications for local identity. Furthermore, as a material that was locally created—not obtained—adobe may have symbolically linked architectural forms (like the platform) to the community of laborers that created them.

Thus, while the imposing size and relative elevation of the adobe platform reflected the political authority of Xaltocan’s leaders, the use of adobe in its construction demonstrated their fundamental connection to the local community. Thus, I argue that the adobe platform is a physical manifestation of the intersecting and contradictory roles of Xaltocan’s leaders as regional elites and authority figures, but also as quintessential Xaltocamecas with strong ties to their local community.

The strategies and implications of monumental architecture

Political leaders necessarily embody multiple identities at once. They foster alliances with elite peers to legitimize their authority and assert political dominance over their subordinates. At the same time, they work to create a sense of solidarity and shared identity among their constituency in order to “form a unified realm with themselves ensconced at the apex” (Schortman and Urban, 2011: 10; see also Schortman et al., 2001). Political architecture similarly embodies these contradictory roles. It reflects the social distinction of the individuals that inhabit elite spaces while evoking the values and symbols of the wider political domain. Given the significant overlap between the roles of political leaders and the array of meanings that political buildings are intended to evoke, an archaeological exploration of the architectural strategies of political leaders has the potential to reveal a great deal about the social context in which they were created. It might also provide insights into the nature of leadership broadly speaking, including how the roles of leaders were purposefully expressed and balanced.

The architecture of political leaders has the potential to reveal a great deal about the social and political structure of a polity. Often, the architecture of political leaders is monumental in scale—noticeably larger than other structures in the surrounding landscape. Monumental buildings serve as apparatuses of social distinction because they reflect the power of leaders to direct labor, to obtain large quantities of construction materials, and to reinforce the subordinate status of laborers (Kolb, 1994; Trigger, 1990). Monumental buildings—and especially their distribution across space—might also reflect more communal (even, egalitarian) modes of governing. At the central Mexican site of Tlaxcallan, architecture provided one line of evidence supporting the theory of collective governance. Within this model, rulers are heavily dependent on their constituents, and thus make concessions to gain their support and compliance. These include gaining credibility and the trust of citizens by providing public goods and by restricting the agency of governing officials (Fargher et al., 2010: 231, 2011).

In addition to reinforcing the social order, monumental buildings also serve as important loci of identity-making and are places where “memories [are] established, social identity [is] made manifest, and local history [is] maintained” (Knapp, 2009: 55). Landscape archaeologies have long highlighted the various ways in which peoples in the past have capitalized on the ideological significance of the natural or built environment to evoke meaning (Ashmore and Sabloff, 2002; Hendon, 2010; Moore, 1996a; Smith, 2003). The significance of a building might also be determined based on the diverse social actions that take place in and around it. These actions help to define how or why political buildings are meaningful and reflect the complexities of public life and the nature of social relationships (Schortman and Urban, 2011: 11). Such meaning-making actions might include public events and rituals sponsored by leaders (e.g. Inomata and Coben, 2006; Moore, 1996b), but also include a wide array of mundane activities including construction and maintenance.

The construction of monumental buildings necessitates the collaborative efforts of a large group of individuals. However, the people responsible for constructing these buildings are very rarely the same individuals that will ultimately inhabit them (Kolb, 1994). Nevertheless, laborers are intrinsically bound to the structures they build through their shared experiences and memories. Thus, a monumental building is made socially meaningful not only because of the deliberate messages it is intended to send, but because it reflects the collaborative efforts of a group of people and therefore evokes a sense of shared identity (Knapp, 2009). Monumental buildings have the power to do much more than merely reflect the complex identities of political leaders; they also embody the productive power, identity, and sociality of an entire community (e.g. Pauketat and Alt, 2005: 218).

Over time, important places are imbued with diverse, dynamic, and contested meanings that are heavily dependent on the varied and ever-changing subjectivities of the groups and individuals that interact with them (Branton, 2009; Low and Lawrence-Zúñiga, 2003; Pauketat and Alt, 2003; Rodman, 1992). Given the variables that impact how a building is interpreted at any given time, it is fair to question the extent to which any archaeological investigation could accurately determine the numerous meanings that a building evoked in the past. Perhaps a more suitable approach to understanding monumental buildings and their social context is to explore the architectural strategies employed by their patrons. Schortman and Urban (2011) have advocated for such an approach, arguing that a focus on the tactics used by political leaders to inscribe or express meaning through architectural forms illuminates the nature of social relations in the past and emphasizes the intended messages of monumental buildings rather than the various meanings they ultimately evoke.

At the Postclassic site of Xaltocan, where the nature of political leadership has generally been underexplored, recent archaeological excavations revealed the diverse architectural features constructed under the patronage of Xaltocan’s Postclassic leaders. One of the most intriguing of these features was a large adobe platform. The architectural strategies that informed the construction of the platform and the implications of these strategies are explored below with the goal of arriving at a more comprehensive understanding of the nature of sociopolitical relations at Postclassic Xaltocan.

The Early Postclassic Basin of Mexico

During the 12th and 13th centuries, the Basin of Mexico was a politically dynamic place. The demise of Tula in the early decades of the 12th century left a power vacuum in the region, enabling smaller communities to achieve greater political prominence. Meanwhile, Mexica migrants from the north, including those fleeing Tula, provided a population boost to the area (Carrasco, 1950, 1971; Davies, 1980; Gibson, 1964). Together these significant political and demographic shifts contributed to the proliferation and expansion of polities across the Basin of Mexico.

During the Postclassic, settlements in the Basin of Mexico were increasingly established along the rivers and massive lakes that stretched across the region (Sanders et al., 1979) (Figure 1). Central Mexicans capitalized on the natural lake resources by hunting waterfowl, fishing, collecting lake algae, harvesting salt, and constructing chinampas for farming (Morehart, 2010; Parsons, 2005). Given the vital role the lakes played in the lives of central Mexicans, it is not surprising that some groups, perhaps in an attempt to protect themselves from increasingly hostile neighbors, chose to settle on natural islands within the lake system. Over time, these islands were manually expanded through construction programs that involved dredging sediment from the lakebed and adding it to the surfaces and edges of exposed land. In some cases lake islands grew to be so massive that they were capable of supporting very large populations. Such was the case for the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan located in Lake Texcoco, which reached a population of roughly 200,000 people (Calnek, 1970).

Figure 1.

Map of the Postclassic Basin of Mexico.

As the number of political centers in the Basin of Mexico increased, so too did competition for resources. Polities began expanding through marriage alliances, trade agreements, and military conquests (Brumfiel, 1983). These expansions enabled relatively small capitals to access materials and labor from far beyond their original domains and to grow into more complex political entities often characterized as city-states (Berdan, 1982; Hicks, 2012; Hodge, 1984; Smith, 2008). The central Mexican city-state, or altepetl as it was known in Nahuatl, was composed of a capital city that had political jurisdiction over a series of more rural agricultural centers. City-states did not necessarily have clearly defined boundaries (Gibson, 1964: 23; Hicks, 2005; Lockhart, 1992), but were defined by the collection of rural communities that fed into the capital city through taxation.

The demand for more resources led city-states to expand into territories that were farther and farther from their core. As a result, polities that were once geographically distant from one another found themselves in closer contact. Increasingly, territories along the edges of city-state domains became contested areas (Ohnersorgen and Venter, 2012). Disputes over borderlands became especially heated when territories contained particularly valuable resources. The Anales de Cuauhtitlan (1992: 58) recount the violent conflicts that erupted between Xaltocan and Cuauhtitlan as they vied for a region known as Zoltepec or “Quail Hill” that was prized for its ample faunal resources—especially birds and deer. City-states also clashed over access to wood (Hicks, 1994; Morehart, 2010), which was found in abundance in the foothills that surrounded the Basin. Despite increasing competition, the Postclassic was a period of relative prosperity and a number of city-states managed to achieve great political success during this time.

The ethnohistorical record and Postclassic Xaltocan

Ethnohistorical sources suggest that Xaltocan was founded during the 10th century ad (Alva Ixtlilxóchitl, 1975–77 I: 293, 423, II: 299; Barlow, 1949) but radiometric data have indicated that people may have been living on the island at least a century earlier (Brumfiel, 2005a: Table 2.1). Initially founded by Otomí speakers, Xaltocan quickly rose to regional prominence and by the late 12th century Xaltocan was established as the capital of the Otomí city-state (Alva Ixtlilxóchitl, 1975–77 I: 293, 423, II: 299; Anales de Cuauhtitlan, 1992; Barlow, 1949; Hicks, 1994). Xaltocan reached its political peak between roughly ad 1240 and ad 1350 (Anales de Cuauhtitlan, 1992; Nazareo de Xaltocan, 1940).

Whatever prominence Xaltocan achieved in the early centuries of the Postclassic, by the second half of the 14th century ad Xaltocan was in decline. Increased conflict with neighboring polity Cuauhtitlan resulted in the slow and steady attrition of Xaltocan’s once expansive domain. In ad 1395, Cuauhtitlan, in an alliance with the powerful Tepanecs of Azcapotzalco, made a final push toward the island capital. Unable to defend themselves, Xaltocan’s residents were forced to flee and the island was largely—though not completely (Overholtzer, 2012, 2013)—abandoned. In ad 1428, Xaltocan was formally incorporated into the newly formed Aztec Triple Alliance, and by around ad 1435 tribute payers (described as Acolman, Colhua, Tenochca, and Otomí) were sent by the state to repopulate the island (Anales de Cuauhtitlan, 1992: 104; Hicks, 1994).

Although ethnohistorical texts provide a useful overview of the history of Xaltocan, they rarely go into detail in their descriptions of political structures and the nature of leadership. One important exception is a letter penned during the 16th century by Don Pablo Nazareo de Xaltocan (1940) and addressed to King Phillip II of Spain. In his letter, Nazareo de Xaltocan claims that he is a descendent of Xaltocan’s ruling lineage and requests recognition and compensation befitting his noble status. To prove his descent, Nazareo de Xaltocan lists the names of eight Postclassic Xaltocan rulers as well as the places of origin of their wives (see Brumfiel, 2005d: Table 1.2 for compiled list). This indicates that Xaltocan’s leaders strategically married noblewomen from other prominent central Mexican city-states to solidify elite alliances. The letter suggests that Postclassic Xaltocan was a hierarchically organized polity with a long-established and well-connected ruling dynasty. The letter also indicates that Xaltocan’s leaders gained political authority in much the same ways as later Aztec rulers, through blood ties to former rulers and through alliances with other regional elites.

The letter by Nazareo de Xaltocan (1940), combined with less detailed discussions of Xaltocan in other ethnohistorical texts, provides a vague idea of what the nature of leadership and sociopolitical relations at Xaltocan may have been like. However, archaeological evidence is crucial for understanding of how these relationships structured everyday life practices across social class lines.

Previous archaeological research at Xaltocan

Archaeological research at Xaltocan has been conducted over the past 30 years. Initiated by Elizabeth Brumfiel in the late 1980s, a surface collection and test-pitting program provided a large corpus of data from across the site. Among these data were nine radiometric dates that were used in conjunction with ceramic data to create a site-specific ceramic chronology (Brumfiel, 2005b). Brumfiel’s chronology contained four ceramic phases, three of which—Phases 1, 2, and 3—dated to the Postclassic period. More recently, Overholtzer (2012, 2014, 2015) modified Xaltocan’s chronology based on a much larger corpus of radiometric data (Table 1). This most recent ceramic chronology divides the Postclassic into three phases: the Early Postclassic (ad 920–1240), associated with primarily Aztec I Black-on-Orange pottery; the Middle Postclassic (ad 1240–1350), associated with primarily Aztec II Black-on-Orange pottery; and the Late Postclassic (ad 1350–1521), associated with primarily Aztec III Black-on-Orange pottery. The Early and Middle Postclassic correspond to Xaltocan’s period of political autonomy, while the Late Postclassic corresponds to the period when Xaltocan was subservient to the Aztec empire. Research by Morehart and Frederick (2014) on the chinampa fields surrounding Xaltocan gleaned additional radiometric data that support this current ceramic chronology.

Table 1.

Xaltocan ceramic chronology.

Time period	Ceramic type	Overholtzer phase name	Calendar dates
Early Postclassic	Aztec I	Dehe (water in Otomí)	ad 920–1240
Middle Postclassic	Aztec II	Hai (land in Otomí)	ad 1240–1350
Late Postclassic	Aztec III	Tlalli (land in Nahuatl)	ad 1350–1521
Colonial	Aztec III and IV	Isla (island in Spanish)	ad 1521–1680

Source: Reproduced from Overholtzer (2012: Table 4.4).

While much is known about the lives of commoners at Xaltocan (Brumfiel, 2005c; De Lucia, 2011; Morehart, 2010; Overholtzer, 2012; see also Rodríguez-Alegría, 2010 for Colonial period), the nature of rulership and the relationship that Xaltocan’s leaders had with their local subordinates is poorly understood. This considerable imbalance of archaeological knowledge is attributable to the fact that Xaltocan has been continuously occupied since the Postclassic and many of the site’s earliest remains are buried beneath modern structures.

Although archaeological and ethnohistorical evidence have indicated that Xaltocan’s Prehispanic leaders likely resided near the modern plaza (see Brumfiel, 2005a; Rodríguez-Alegría, 2010: 56–57), many archaeological investigations have focused on spaces located near site’s periphery where modern Xaltocan still remains largely undeveloped (e.g. Morehart, 2010; Overholtzer, 2012). One notable exception is a house (dated to the Early and Middle Postclassic) that was located just east of Xaltocan’s modern plaza. Excavations recovered the remains of high-quality adobe walls and stucco floors (De Lucia, 2011), and artifacts were of a marginally higher quality than those recovered from commoner contexts. These findings suggest that the house’s residents may have been wealthier than average (De Lucia, 2011: 314). Thus, the house provides evidence for social stratification and supports the hypothesis that higher ranking members of the community lived close to the center of town and used high-quality architecture to differentiate themselves from lower status residents (Farah, 2017: 126; Rodríguez-Alegría, 2010: 56, 57). Although previous archaeological research has provided an abundance of new and important information about the everyday practices of the Xaltocan’s Postclassic inhabitants, it has not facilitated a thorough understanding of the nature of political leadership at the site.

Cerrito Central

In order to better understand rulership and sociopolitical organization at Xaltocan, archaeological excavations were conducted at Cerrito Central between the months of July and December 2014. Cerrito Central is a large mound located just west of Xaltocan’s modern plaza (Figure 2) that rises nearly 5 m above the surrounding area. Modern structures limited excavations to a relatively small area of approximately 200 m², located slightly southeast of the mound’s apex. A pedestrian survey revealed that Cerrito Central might have been as large as 70 m across (an area of approximately 3800 m²). This means that the excavation area represents about 5 percent of the total area of the mound. Excavation units measured 2 m × 2 m and were excavated horizontally in 10 cm increments for tight control over stratigraphy. This process resulted in the recovery of successive civic and residential structures dating throughout the Postclassic. The high-quality construction and relatively large scale of the structures indicate that Cerrito Central was likely affiliated with Xaltocan’s Postclassic leaders.

Figure 2.

Modern Xaltocan and location of Cerrito Central.

The excavations at Cerrito Central found evidence for three major construction stages: the first dating to the Early Postclassic (ca. ad 1000–1200), the second dating to the transitional period between the Early and Middle Postclassic (ca. ad 1200–1400), and the third dating to the Late Postclassic (ca. ad 1400–1521). Both the Middle and Late Postclassic construction stages correspond to major political shifts at the Xaltocan. The Middle Postclassic construction stage was initiated at a time when Xaltocan was rising in political power, and the Late Postclassic construction stage corresponds to Xaltocan’s incorporation into the Aztec empire. The timing of these building stages indicates that the construction of architecture at Xaltocan was strategically timed with the intent of sending messages about Xaltocan’s political leaders.

Postclassic construction stages at Cerrito Central

Early Postclassic construction stage

The earliest recovered evidence for construction at Cerrito Central has been dated to between ad 1017 and ad 1150 (radiocarbon sample, 2σ calibration, 970BP±30, wood charcoal, recovered from ash pit). While this Early Postclassic construction stage dates to relatively early in Xaltocan’s history, it may not represent the earliest construction at Cerrito Central. A series of factors—most notably safety concerns for excavators—prohibited excavations beyond a depth of 4 m in this area. However, when excavations were terminated we were still recovering cultural materials from the matrix, indicating that we had not yet encountered contexts that predated human occupation at the site. It is entirely possible that there are earlier construction stages at Cerrito Central.

Although only small portions of the Early Postclassic structure were recovered, archaeological evidence has revealed that this Early Postclassic structure was composed of small rooms, one of which measured approximately 2 m × 2 m in area (Figure 3). Room walls were made of uniform adobe bricks and were built atop clay foundations. At least some of the floors were made of plaster laid atop a thin layer of tezontle (porous volcanic stone) gravel. Although there is some evidence for the use of plaster floors elsewhere at Xaltocan during the Early Postclassic (De Lucia, 2011, 2014) compacted earth floors were far more common (e.g. De Lucia and Overholtzer, 2014; Espejel, 2005; Overholtzer, 2012). The presence of numerous plaster floors probably indicates that the people living at Cerrito Central during the Early Postclassic occupied a higher socioeconomic status than the majority of Xaltocan’s inhabitants.

Figure 3.

Early Postclassic architecture and features recovered at Cerrito Central.

Middle Postclassic construction stage

Between the 11th and 13th centuries, Xaltocan became one of the most prominent city-states in the region. Xaltocan’s political ascent coincided with a construction program that substantially altered the size and appearance of Cerrito Central. A combination of ceramic and radiocarbon data indicates that this construction project began near the end of the Early Postclassic, between about ad 1150 and ad 1260 (2σ calibration, 840BP±30, wood charcoal recovered under dirt floor). Ceramic fragments recovered in construction fill were primarily Aztec I, indicative of the Early Postclassic period, while subsequent architecture was associated almost exclusively with Aztec II ceramics, indicative of the Middle Postclassic period. Together, these findings suggest that this construction project was roughly contemporaneous with the Early-to-Middle Postclassic transition at Xaltocan.

As a part of this building project, all earlier architecture was razed and buried under a thick layer of construction fill. This layer of fill served to elevate the mound by about a meter. Next, an expansive adobe platform was constructed along the surface of the fill (Figure 4). This platform served to elevate the mound by another meter, but also served to flatten and expand the surface of the mound creating an ideal foundation for building. It is difficult to estimate the maximum expanse of the platform because archaeological excavations only uncovered a small fraction of the mound. However, given the size and location of the excavation grid, which was covered completely by the adobe platform, it is possible that the platform measured anywhere between about 1600 m² (40 m × 40 m) and 2500 m² (50 m × 50 m).

Figure 4.

Plan map of the southeastern portion of the adobe platform recovered at Cerrito Central.

Atop the adobe platform, a series of wall foundations were constructed outlining a small (3 m × 4 m) interior room that appears to have been designated for ritual purposes. The wall foundations were constructed with small stones (10–15 cm diameter) and were lined across the top with ceramic fragments (Figure 5). Within the room, sequential ceramic-lined altars were embedded into dirt and plaster floors. It appears that with each new floor resurfacing event the previous floor and altar were buried and a new altar was built atop the new floor. Interestingly, altars were never built directly overtop previous altars. There appears to have been a conscious effort to carve out a new ritual space for each altar. Other ritual implements, including fragments of ceramic censers and braziers, were also recovered from within the room.

Figure 5.

Plan map of Middle Postclassic architecture and artifacts.

North of the room, in an exterior patio space, a large ceremonial hearth was recovered. The hearth was constructed using adobe bricks and stones, and it was lined along the northern and southern edges with ceramic fragments. The hearth was associated with a large deposit composed of broken vessels, many of which could be reconstructed, suggesting that they were intentionally smashed when they were dumped. These kinds of deposits—composed of broken (but complete) vessels recovered in a single stratigraphic level and found just outside of residential buildings—are often associated with New Fire ceremonies (Elson and Smith, 2001). New Fire ceremonies occurred every 52 years and marked the ending of the combined cycles of the 365-day solar and 260-day ritual calendar. The characteristics of the deposit and its association with the ceremonial hearth support the hypothesis that Xaltocan’s Postclassic leaders conducted a New Fire ceremony. The Early-to-Middle Postclassic remains recovered at Cerrito Central reflect an effort to increase the visibility of Xaltocan’s leaders and may also indicate an uptick in ritual practice.

Late Postclassic construction stage

The final Postclassic stage of construction at Cerrito Central was initiated sometime in the 15th century, probably after Xaltocan was incorporated into the Aztec empire. Unfortunately, Late Postclassic architecture was badly damaged by modern processes, especially construction. Despite the damage, Late Postclassic remains reflect a marked shift in architecture. Wall foundations recovered from this period were nearly three times larger than those recovered from earlier periods, measuring about 1 m in width (Figure 6). They were also constructed using massive stones (averaging 30–40 cm in diameter). Rooms were also much larger, measuring about 9 m wide in certain areas. Although the function of the Late Postclassic structure is unclear, the dramatic shifts in architectural style suggest the presence of new leadership at Xaltocan and may also reflect better access to certain resources—especially stone.

Figure 6.

Plan map of Late Postclassic architectural features recovered at Cerrito Central.

The quality and scale of the architecture recovered at Cerrito Central supports the hypothesis that it was a place of political significance during the Postclassic. While many of the architectural features described above warrant a more intensive study, I argue that the adobe platform, constructed during the Early-to-Middle Postclassic transition, represents a particularly significant architectural decision on the part of Xaltocan’s leaders. Analysis of the various factors that influenced the architectural strategies employed in the construction of the platform provides insights into the nature of leadership at Xaltocan on the eve of its political florescence.

The adobe platform and architectural choices

The adobe platform recovered at Cerrito Central served multiple functions. It elevated and leveled the surface of the mound and created a larger base for subsequent architecture. Platforms were common architectural features in the Basin of Mexico and were used to support a wide range of structures, including commoner houses and monumental buildings. Although platforms were made of a wide range of materials—clay, adobe, and stone—oftentimes, monumental platforms were made of stone (e.g. Elson, 1999: 155; García et al., 1998: 71,72; Marquina, 1964: 223–232; Smith, 1993: 194; Smith et al., 1999: 134). This may be attributable to the comparative durability of stone, which held up much better during the rainy season. Furthermore, given the high cost of quarrying, shaping, and transporting stone (Abrams, 1989), it might have been used as a means for elites to distinguish themselves from commoners and align themselves with their elite peers.

Adobe was also a common building material in Postclassic central Mexico, though it did not have the same social implications as stone. Adobe was often linked to commoner architecture, and many commoner houses recovered at Xaltocan had adobe brick walls (De Lucia, 2014; De Lucia and Overholtzer, 2014; Espejel, 2005). Given the apparent significance of Cerrito Central, it is interesting that Xaltocan’s leaders used adobe, not stone, to construct the monumental platform. There are, however, a number of practical limitations and political motivations that may have influenced the architectural decisions of Xaltocan’s leaders.

The decision to build the platform with adobe bricks may have hinged on access to stone resources. Xaltocan was a man-made island created from sediment that was dredged up from the lakebed. Thus, large amounts of stone were not naturally available on the island and had to be imported from the lakeshore via boat or causeway. Although small stones were used for the construction of wall foundations and other small-scale architectural features, large quantities of stones—especially large (greater than 20 cm in diameter) stones—were not commonly used in architecture at Xaltocan until after it was incorporated into the Aztec empire. During the Early and Middle Postclassic periods, interpolity conflict caused frequent disruptions to regional tribute and trade markets (Brumfiel, 2005c: 359) that may have made it difficult for Xaltocan’s leaders to procure stone outside of their immediate domain. Perhaps for this reason Xaltocan’s leaders did not have access to the quantity of stone necessary to build the expansive platform.

Limited access to stone resources may have constrained the construction capabilities of Xaltocan’s leaders, but even if sufficient quantities of stone were accessible, adobe might still have been a more practical and efficient option. Unlike stone, adobe bricks could be produced relatively quickly and all of the necessary materials were readily available on the island. Ethnographic studies have indicated that traditional methods of adobe brick making are efficient but require cooperative labor (Love, 2012: 153). Adobe bricks are made by mixing a soil base—typically consisting of roughly proportionate quantities of clay and sand—with water and dried grass. At Xaltocan, adobe components were probably mixed in large mud pits and treaded by foot, a process that would have necessitated several individuals depending on the amount of adobe being mixed. The adobe mixture was then molded into brick shapes and left to dry in the sun. Molding would have needed to happen relatively soon after mixing to prevent the mixture from overdrying (Barnard, 2016: 40). The drying time of bricks probably lasted between two and three days depending on the weather, and after bricks were dry they would have been immediately transported to Cerrito Central to make space for new bricks.

It is difficult to estimate exactly how long it would have taken to build the adobe platform, but given the length of the dry season the process probably took under eight months. A modern study of adobe brick making in New Mexico indicates that a single brick-maker can produce about 150 adobe bricks (measuring 25 cm × 10 cm × 35 cm) per day. If we assume that the adobe platform was about 2500 m³ (maximum) then approximately 285,000 bricks would be required to build it. With a team of 20 individuals it would take 95 days, or about three months, to make 285,000 bricks. A team of 40 could complete the task in a month and a half. Thus, depending on the productivity of Xaltocan’s laborers and on the size of the labor force, the project could have easily been completed in a matter of a few months.

The presence of large-scale infrastructure, most notably the expansive system of lakebed farming plots known as chinampas, indicates that Xaltocan’s leaders oversaw a sizeable labor force. In addition to construction and maintenance, farming the chinampas would have also required a sustained and well-organized workforce (Morehart, 2010, 2016). Archaeological evidence indicates that during the Middle Postclassic there was an increase in the standardization and intensification of maize production, which Morehart (2010: 298–301) attributes to the need for Xaltocan to be self-sufficient in a time of increased conflict. This expedient shift in agricultural strategy speaks to the effectiveness of Xaltocan’s leaders at directing labor. The chinampa system and the organized manner in which it was farmed suggests that Xaltocan’s leaders would have been capable of marshaling a sufficiently large labor force to construct the adobe platform in a short period of time.

Not only the size, but also the skill of the labor force would have impacted the speed at which the platform could have been built. Xaltocan builders would have had ample experience building with adobe bricks and relatively little experience building with stone, which was seldom used for the construction of commoner buildings. Even regardless of the skill-set of laborers, adobe bricks are a much easier construction material to work with. They are far lighter than stone and therefore easier to adjust during the building process. Moreover, the ability to standardize the size and shape of bricks would have enabled builders to plan construction ahead of time. Stones used in construction at Xaltocan were not typically standardized in shape or size. Building with them would have been a largely improvisational process, requiring extra time for trial and error. Even if stones were cut into rectangular blocks, this process would have added to the labor and time necessary to complete the project.

It is worth noting that while using adobe bricks would have sped up the construction time, they were far less durable than stone. Although the platform may have been less prone to flooding given its relatively elevated location, prolonged and heavy rainfall, which typically occurs between the months of June and September, would have quickly eroded the platform. As a result, the platform would have required constant maintenance, undermining the argument that adobe was a more efficient medium. The need for constant maintenance may have been avoided, however, if the adobe platform was covered with a stucco façade, which would have protected the platform from seasonal rainfall and flooding. Although stucco was not recovered in situ—that is directly adhered to the surface of the adobe platform—over 3700 plain stucco fragments and 150 red-painted stucco fragments were recovered in the surrounding fill (Farah, 2017: 293). It is entirely possible that these stucco fragments were once part of the platform’s original façade.

In addition to protecting the adobe platform, a stucco façade would have also transformed the appearance of the platform. It would have created an enduring surface for painted designs, which would have distinguished the structure from other buildings in the community and could have been used to display symbols reflective of local identity. A painted stucco façade might have also obscured the fact that the platform was made of adobe. Thus, the platform would have looked similar to other monumental buildings across the Basin of Mexico despite being made of a cheaper and more practical material.

Community values and the social meaning of adobe at Xaltocan

The aforementioned hypotheses provide practical justifications for the use of adobe as a construction material. While there is ample reason to believe that adobe was a cheap and efficient building material, I argue that it may have also been selected because it was a symbol of local identity. If this was the case then the adobe platform was intended—at least in part—to promote community solidarity.

Although it has been well documented that Xaltocan was the capital of the Otomí city-state prior to its incorporation into the Aztec empire, the significance of this ethnic affiliation and the various ways Xaltocan’s ethnic identity manifested archaeologically have not been thoroughly explored. Perhaps the most extensive study of ethnicity at Xaltocan examined the frequency of rod-shaped lip plugs over time (Brumfiel et al., 1994). Ethnohistorical documents indicate that body ornamentation was one of the ways that ethnic groups differentiated themselves, and that Otomí peoples were known to have worn lip plugs (Berdan, 2008: 118; Codex Borbonicus, 1974: f.28; Codex Mendoza, 1992: f.64 r; Codex Magliabechiano, 1983: v. 1: f.38). Brumfiel et al. (1994) found that rod-shaped lip plugs were recovered in high frequencies during the Early and Middle Postclassic periods, but were found in much lower frequencies during the Late Postclassic. This indicates that Otomís living at Xaltocan during the Early and Middle Postclassic differentiated themselves by wearing lip plugs, but when the demographics of the island shifted during the Late Postclassic the rate at which lip plugs were worn dropped significantly.

Beyond this singular lip plug analysis, very little work has been done to determine how ethnic difference was expressed at Xaltocan. The relatively small body of material evidence concerning Xaltocan’s ethnic affiliation is in stark contrast to the ethnohistorical data, which consistently and almost universally reference Xaltocan’s Otomí roots. Ethnohistorical data suggests that there were other material expressions of ethnic difference at Xaltocan, but it is unclear what these expressions were. It is possible that distinctive features observed at Cerrito Central might have been linked to Xaltocan’s ethnic identity. In particular, the use of ceramic fragments to line the tops of wall foundations, construct altar surfaces, and decorate a ceremonial hearth reflects a construction technique that has not been observed elsewhere in the Basin of Mexico (see Figure 4). The distinctive adobe platform might have also been related to Otomí ethnic ties. Unfortunately, there is neither ethnohistorical nor archaeological evidence to indicate that adobe was an especially prized Otomí material.

If the adobe platform did not reflect the architectural conventions of the Otomí, then perhaps it was still a mechanism for projecting Xaltocan’s identity—not an ethnic identity, but a local identity, uniquely tied to the island and to its inhabitants. Part of Xaltocan’s identity as a unified community may have been tied to the way that the island was created. Although “Xaltocan” is a Nahuatl word, almost certainly not used by the island’s original inhabitants, the name is still significant because it reflects the way others identified the people that lived there. Xaltocan combines two Nahuatl words—xalli, meaning “sand,” and tocatl, meaning “spider.” Thus, Xaltocan might be translated as “place of the sand spiders.” The place name used to identify Xaltocan in the Codex Mendoza (1992: f.3v) appears to have been a logograph for the name, and depicts a spider (or possibly a fire ant), sitting atop a sandy mound. Perhaps the name “Xaltocan” and the sand spider emblem glyph indicate that Xaltocan’s local identity was tied to the physical (human-made) island and to the accomplishments of the island’s original inhabitants.

Constructing monumental buildings and features reflects a set of deliberate choices intended to direct, solidify or change the social relations in the present and the future (Knapp, 2009: 48). The decision made by Xaltocan’s leaders to construct such an important building using adobe bricks reflected much more than a practical choice. If being accomplished builders, known for working in the medium of sandy lake sediment, was an important aspect of Xaltocan’s local identity, then perhaps making the adobe platform was a socially meaningful practice. In a sense, the adobe platform replicated the island; and thus, in the process of constructing the platform the builders replicated the actions of their ancestors. Through this process, the platform, like the island itself, was much more than a structure meant to reinforce the authority of local leaders. It was also a physical manifestation of local skill, resourcefulness, and solidarity.

Even if a stucco façade was used to cover and protect the adobe base, I argue that the social significance of the platform would have endured. While a stucco façade might have concealed the true character of the platform from outsiders, locals would have surely remembered that the platform was made of adobe. Over the past 20 years, literature on social and collective memories has attested to the longevity of memory, especially when it is rooted in shared experience (e.g. Mills and Walker, 2008; Pool and Loughlin, 2017; Van Dyke and Alcock, 2003). The collective efforts that contributed to the construction of the platform would have deeply embedded the process in the minds of Xaltocamecas.

Conclusion

Although the meanings of monumental buildings are dynamic and subjective, the decisions and dispositions that bring them into being reflect the motivations and limitations of their patrons at a specific time and within a specific social context. The adobe platform constructed at Cerrito Central between the Early and Middle Postclassic periods is a physical manifestation of the leadership strategies of Xaltocan’s leaders. These strategies included establishing horizontal alliances with their elite peers, asserting their authority over their constituency, and creating a sense of shared identity and solidarity among their home community.

The time and energy applied to the construction of the platform reinforced the relative authority of Xaltocan’s leaders over their subordinates. Moreover, it proved the ability of leaders to marshal substantial labor and resources, thereby legitimizing their status among other Basin of Mexico elites. By covering the platform with a stucco façade, Xaltocan’s leaders protected the adobe base and transformed the appearance of the platform, making it indistinguishable from stone buildings at other Basin of Mexico centers. Although the stucco façade fundamentally changed the appearance of the platform and perhaps even tricked outsiders into believing it was made of more expensive stone blocks, the social memory of Xaltocan locals would have persisted.

The collective experience of constructing the adobe platform would have fostered a shared sense of connection, both to the building and to its inhabitants. While practical considerations probably influenced the decision to build the platform with adobe bricks, social and ideological factors also played a role. Adobe was a unifying medium, used to construct houses all over the island and across class lines. Adobe was also locally produced and therefore embodied the island and the collaborative labor of its inhabitants. By constructing their platform with a familiar but meaningful material, Xaltocan’s leaders strategically allied themselves with their constituency and fostered a sense of local identity.

The adobe platform at Cerrito Central conveys the desire of Xaltocan’s leaders to maintain their authority in a time of heightened conflict. Although Xaltocan was eventually incorporated into the Aztec empire, its legacy as the capital of the Otomí city-state was remembered long after the demographics of the island changed. This legacy is a testament to the powerful and distinctive identity that Xaltocan’s leaders helped cultivate through strategic practices, which included commissioning monumental buildings.

While the meanings of monumental buildings change over time, focusing on the various motivations and limitations that influenced their construction allows archaeologists to gain a deeper understanding of the specific contexts in which they were created. Monumental buildings were not exclusively used to distinguish political leaders from their constituents and were often used to generate or reiterate a sense of shared identity and group solidarity. By focusing exclusively on the exceptional aspects of monumental buildings, we often fail to recognize the social significance of their more mundane elements. This study has demonstrated that because adobe was a commonplace construction material it may have played an important role in creating a sense of unity among the inhabitants of Xaltocan.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Thomas Patterson for inspiring this article and Wendy Ashmore for her unflinching support and guidance. I would also like to thank my colleague and friend German Loffler for his helpful feedback. I am appreciative to the Consejo de Arqueología and the Instituto Nacional de Antropología for permission to conduct the research included in this case study. I would also like to acknowledge the community of Xaltocan and the countless people that directly or indirectly contributed to the collection of this data. This article was strengthened by the generous time and comments from three anonymous reviewers, for which I am appreciative.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Funding for this research was provided by the National Science Foundation (Doctoral Dissertation Improvement Grant #BCS 1419202), Wenner-Gren Foundation (Dissertation Fieldwork Grant #8879), and UC Mexus (Dissertation Research Grant #DG-14-62).

Author Biography

Kirby Farah is a lecturer in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Southern California. Her research and teaching interests intersect archaeology, ethnohistory, and critical cultural heritage, with particular emphasis on issues of community identity and social differentiation and cohesion in the Postclassic Basin of Mexico. She is the director of the Proyecto Arqueológico de Xaltocan-Élite and recently completed an engaged archaeology project, entitled Middle Postclassic Ritual Spaces and Implements: A Museum Exhibit in Xaltocan, Mexico funded by the Wenner Gren Foundation. In addition to her archaeological research, she is also interested in how modern communities in central Mexico create local patrimonies around their archaeological pasts.

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