ON FANCIFUL, CLICHÉ, BROCH VISIONS

John Stewart, An Outline of Shetland Archaeology, Shetland Amenity Trust, 2008: annotated extracts from Chapter 2, The Brochs and After.

p.13

They (brochs) conform closely to a general pattern, as if they had all been built to order within a short time. . . . They point to an organised life, perhaps a semi-military basis, in the north, such as had never existed before, and never has since. . . . but all belong to the same period. But Mousa, which is the only broch nearly complete, can be taken as a sample of all.

One is tempted to draw an analogy with cathedrals, and their model/pattern that persisted across countries and centuries - not a ‘short time’; or maybe castles, which have the problem of suggesting a military use for brochs that the Stewart text promotes: brochs are referred to in the text as defensive towers and watch-towers. Just how long brochs were used for their purpose remains as unclear as their function, but this does not stop anyone from guessing outcomes with a certain blind authority.

Just why the life of the broch inhabitants has to be seen as ‘’semi-military’ remains a puzzle. Might this ‘battle-hardened’ use be proposed to fit in with the idea that brochs were for military defence, with settlements constantly living under the fear of attack? What did the assailants hope to gain?

One has to be careful not to structure a theory that then shapes the way everything is seen in order to confirm the envisaged notion. Theories need to be rigorously tested, with failure or refutation being more valuable than any happy, supporting confirmation; and once refuted, the theories need to be put aside, not allowed to linger as on as maybes along with all of the ingrained uncertainty.

p.14

Sometimes there were guard chambers on one or both sides of the entrance passage with an opening through which spears could be thrust and occasionally there were gaps between the passage lintels through which an unwanted guest might be assailed from above.

One can agree with this protected entry notion, but just why this might be so remains the question. The broch could be the central store and spiritual heart needing to be defended, kept safe, for the well being of the community, instead of a defensive refuge for the village occupants. There is a significant difference here. Perhaps the broch could involve something of both?

The ‘keeping safe’ concept could not only mean being defended, locked away from others, but also being maintained in conditions where the contents would not deteriorate. Here one thinks of salting, drying, storage temperatures, mould, damp, etc., and time. If brochs are meant for this, then they can be seen as environmental safes, secure stores for important goods. One can envisage a seasonal necessity here, where times of plenty mean storing for times of need, and protecting these stores from others who may become desperate with their needs that may not have been catered for, or which might have met with some stimulating calamity.

In all of this, one has to remember that broch dwellers lived in a natural world which they managed and explained in various ways that involved their spiritual life. These spirits and understandings were as critical as the food put aside for needy times, requiring as much care and attention as everything else of significance. The effort and energy that went into broch building seems appropriate to accommodate such an important ambition. We must remember that necessity played a role in all walks of life in these times; there was no luxury to be flippantly arty or to build part-time centres for ad hoc usage.

p.14

. . . the lower part of the broch wall was solid up to about a dozen feet. From that height there was a double circular wall, outside and inside, with a passage between through which a man might walk crouching. This passage was roofed with heavy stone lintels at the height of five or six feet, and formed circular tunnel round the broch inside its wall, which was interrupted by its stairway. One could spring across from the stair into this gallery and make a circuit inside the wall of the broch until became to a dead end behind the stair.

As commented on in the introduction, the gallery spaces are hardly conveniently- accessed spaces, as the ‘crouching’ walk suggests. A crouching walk is a very awkward, uncomfortable movement. It is said to be used at the entry to deliberately slow down anyone who approaches, but who knows? How tall were the broch dwellers? One can experience this uncomfortable, claustrophobic shuffling hunch at the Maeshowe entrance in the Orkneys, and the tight squeeze of the access into Newgrange in Ireland.

Anyone who has walked up a broch stair will soon discover that ‘springing across’ from the stair is not the simple, spirited, easy manoeuvre that the words suggest. One has to note that, being a dead-end space, the gallery void is hardly a zone one would like to be trapped in. It would be a snug, dark and damp containment.

There is the other matter of the lintels: the idea of access in these circular in-between zones suggests that the lintels, that become the floor stones for the space above, either touch or are close to each other, and form a continuous floor surface to walk on like those at the top of Mousa. Looking at what one can see in some brochs, it appears likely that these lintels may be spaced out, turning them more into stones with a function similar to ties used in cavity brick walls; these ties separate the outer wet wall from the inner dry wall while structurally holding the two skins together. A drystone worker would be familiar with the idea of a stone tie as such stones are used to stabilise drystone walls, going through the full width of the wall, face to face.

p.14

The wall galleries were partly lit by ladder-like rows of openings in the inside of the broch. These windows usually started above a lintel of the door into one of the ‘tea- cosy’ chambers in the base, so relieving the pressure on it, but their main purpose seems to have been to make the inner wall less rigid, so that as the building settled the lintels of the galleries should remain horizontal.

Stewart comments later on the fact that the interior of the roofed broch would be dark; but here he sees the interior openings as windows lighting the galleries, in part, an idea that seems to seek to support the concept of these galleries being readily accessible. The openings are so limited that, even if light could reach these voids, the gallery space would remain a black tunnel. The thickness of this inner wall must not be forgotten either. These openings should not be seen as windows; rather they are deep recesses that even direct sunlight could not penetrate.

One has to suggest that access to these gallery spaces is more like access to, e,g., a ceiling space for general maintenance, and that the openings have an alternate use. It has been suggested that they facilitate ventilation of the gallery spaces to overcome mould problems in the broch, and the development of damp in the inner wall. The cavity in brick walls is traditionally ventilated for this same reason.

The idea that these structures might settle is strange. Just what the openings might do with any settlement does not appear to be able to keep the lintels horizontal. The need for horizontal lintels seems to come from the idea of access. If the lintels are seen as intermittent structural ties, then they should slope to the outside in order to stop water tracking to the interior, so as to keep the inner dry wall. Drawn sections of Mousa and other brochs suggest that these lintel/tie stones have this slope that has nothing to do with any settlement.

p.14

. . .

In addition the outer side of the double gallery wall was usually thicker than the inner. . . . The galleries themselves enabled a high wall to be made without the use of staging.

This idea that the brochs were built from the gallery space seems fanciful. One only has to look at a drystone wall being constructed to see the large pile of stones needed nearby for the worker/s to pick and choose from. Looking at the walls of Mousa, it seems that the outside face of the outer wall and the inside face of the inner wall are the ‘faced’ surfaces, with the inner faces being rougher, ‘fair faced.’ This suggests that the walls have been constructed with the worker/s standing on the outside and inside of the broch, leaving the inner faces of the walls to be the less considered surfaces. It is almost impossible to build the near ‘perfect’ surfaces seen at Mousa, overhand, and with only a few available stones. One has to propose the use of scaffolding for the workers and the stones, inside and out. Simple spatial requirements would require this. The proposition has been put that the inside scaffolding stays as the interior framework and floors, as it would be difficult to remove through the singular, deliberately tight entry/exit.

p.15

Many, but not all, brochs had a position of great natural strength.

The exception might, as the saying goes, prove the rule, but here it could be suggested that ‘great natural strength’ might not be the critical matter that a military vision would require. One might see the broch as being a work, stores, and spiritual core of a settlement that needs protection, being critical for the survival of the occupants of the village rather than as a primary defensive retreat. The siting of the broch might have more to do with inner matters than any external ones, with the idea of keeping the contents safe.

p.15

The labour force required to assemble and construct a broch would probably be in the nature of 100 men working for a year. This leaves out of account the expenditure of time and energy in quarrying, rough-dressing and transporting stones. Mousa, now uninhabited, had 11 households at the end of the 18thcentury, say a maximum of 25 to 30 men. It is very unlikely to have had more at any time, and this broch, like numerous others on outer points of land, must have been built by people who lived some distance away, in this case on the mainland opposite.

Given the lifestyle suggested in the waste discovered in the broch middens, (see later), the stats here seem irrelevant. As with cathedrals, it might be that brochs were built over longer periods, maybe even in stages, when materials, time, and man-power were all available, or when necessity demanded growth in the facilities the broch accommodated.

As drystone structures, there should be very little ‘rough- dressing’ of any stones required; stones are picked up and used as they are found.

Using the habitation figures of the 18th century seems irrelevant to how the brochs were originally used. Stewart makes this point later when he says that most brochs were converted into dwellings and it is this archaeology that researchers reveal, concealing all indications of the earlier use.

As to exactly why the builders had to live some distance away remains a puzzle. One might suggest that things were otherwise; that brochs were built at the heart of communities as accessible places. Stewart’s idea that brochs were manned for only a few months a year, (see later), seems fanciful. One could suppose that the effort to build a broch might be for something more critical than part-time defence.

p.15

Shetland at its best had two feudal castles, and all the local lairds of later times (very small fry indeed) would not have added to a fraction of her hundred brochs, so it is useless to think of a lord controlling a group of serfs. From the position of the brochs we can hardly think of families living under the shadow of the broch walls. . . . brochs are not often convenient to harbours. We have a form of life based on a group much larger than the family and a communal effort to meet some unprecedented sort of danger.

It is usual to speak as if all the defensive sites in Shetland and Orkney were brochs, but there are defences in lochs and on headlands which were quiet different.

The comparison with castles continues the military theme, and may not be useful in the way it subtly confirms a similar purpose. It is agreed that the group is not just a family, or one managed by a lord, but there seems no reason to assume the group did not live around or near to the broch: consider Gurness. One might suggest that the nearby village might have been constructed from less durable materials, or that these stones were far more accessible for reuse, removing all archaeologicaI material that could be used as evidence today.

Brochs might not be close to harbours,# but might some be close to water to give easy access to fishing, e.g. Scara Brae: consider mussels, etc., and seaweed for sheep. The water also assists in managing the approach to the broch.

These brochs might not be the defensive military sites envisioned. Rather they might be defendable places; safe places for stores and sacred purposes critical for survival.

(Note: this option is not an attempt to force a theory on to any idea of the broch; it is merely offering alternatives to challenge concepts.)

# Later in the text, Stewart notes on p.17: ‘wherever there is sheltered water there is a broch not far away,’ leaving one question the statement he makes here.

. . .

p.15-16

The close adherence of the brochs to a single plan suggests that they were all built about the same time. The Norman square tower keeps, for example, were all built within fifty years, and were quite different from the one and bailey castles which preceded them. Brochs were built by outsiders, as we know from the skill of their construction, co-operating with the local inhabitants as we deduce from the amount of labour required. As far as Shetland is concerned, we know that the outsiders came from Orkney, for we find both, local pottery and that of the newcomers. And from particular

finds. . . we assume that there was connection which leads us as far afield as south-west England, and thence to Western France.

It seems reasonable, then, to assume that the broch builders came by the western route in considerable numbers and settled in north Scotland. This suggests that they were refugees. A likely time for such a migration was 56BC, a year before Caesar’s visit to Britain, when he overcame the Venti. This tribe held Brittany, and were skilled seamen who commanded the mouth of the English Channel.

If one considers cathedrals, the proposition of a link between similarity and time scale could mean that centuries are involved. Traditional forms have been constructed over many centuries. That keeps and castles are used as examples only reinforces the military vision for brochs, when things could be different.

The idea that brochs were built by outsiders could suggest the cathedral analogy of travelling masons. Taken to the extreme, this notion does away with the concept of the development of brochs originalting from the roundhouse/wheel-house progression. It might be better to think of all of these options occurring, with travelling masons building forms progressively, ending up with the broch.

p.16

. . .

Their chief weapons were spears and slings. A defended island or headland was merely a place of refuge. . . . In Caithness and Orkney, where the brochs were first made, there were few of either defensible headlands or lake islets.

In choosing sites the main factors were defence, proximity to fresh water, the possibility of signalling to other brochs by smoke or fire, seaward view, the command of navigable channels, and the command of harbours. To attack them an enemy had to leave his ships and run the risk of being cut off. Those who know the Shetland broch sites will realise how well these conditions are fulfilled.

The suggestion of the broch being a place of refuge needs one to say more about how the broch interior might accommodate this function, with its core central space.

p.16

Apart from the months of June, July and August, there was little fear of attack and for the rest of the year many of the Shetland brochs were probably unmanned.

The idea that a broch might only be used for a few months every year seems totally out of scale with the effort that put it together. The idea that a broch might be ‘manned’ needs far more explanation than a simple statement. Brochs are not spacious. If one is to hypothesise the use of the broch as a safe place for the village to retreat to, then one has to be far more specific about how this occurred. Words and intentions are not enough.

The broch seems to be an ideal place to hold in a seige. Stewart tells the story of how the Earl of Orkney was thwarted at Mousa, suggesting that brochs are impregnable, but he needs to do far more than repeat this tale of 1155 when proposing that a whole village might use the broch for this purpose. How might everyday life be managed with all of its necessities, with a group? Theories need to be followed through and be tested rather than being left as hopeful statements that form the basis of future ideas. Such an approach truly has no foundations.

p.16-17

We are not without evidence of the value of a broch as a means of defence. About 1155 Mousa, smallest and perhaps most weakly situated of all the Shetland brochs, venerable and perhaps a little ruinous, was besieged by no less a person than the Earl of Orkney. . . . For he was going, against that lady’s will, to save the honour of his mother. This fickle Dane, already a widow, had run off with a Shetlander, Elena the Young, and they had taken refuge in the castle. The stronghold could not be taken, so Early Harald settled down to a seige, which was equally unavailing.

We cannot decide the function of a broch from an event in 1155. This tale only raises more questions that get glossed over with the blind enthusiasm that glorifies the stamina of the broch.

p.17

The primary danger in Shetland was from the south . . .

Wherever there is sheltered water there is a broch not far away. The watch-tower of Culswick commanded all the sea to the south-west, just as Sae Breck in Eshaness kept watch over St. Magnus Bay. Where transit from coast to coast was easy, brochs tend to cluster. . . . Windhouse watched the ‘waist’ of Yell.

Broch and water may be a fishing link. Calling a broch a watch-tower seems to assume it had a defensive military purpose. One needs to explain just how the broch facilitated this purpose.

p.17

A few inland sites in lochs may not have been brochs in the sense of towers, and some, which may have been refuges for women and children were paired with fighting brochs in close proximity.

Stewart appears to be fixated on proving brochs were military sites, and here puts the case for two different types of broch: one for refuge, the other for a lookout. This understanding seems to be a way to explain matters that his theory does not confirm, weakening the theory with a muddled ‘perhaps,’ and raising more doubts about all brochs.

p.17-18

It is clear that the maritime attack from the south was feared. There is no accident in the sites chosen. Brough in Burra had an uninterrupted view of the east through the Quarff gap; Brough in Whalsay would spread an alarm to the whole North Isles; Underhoull in Unst was in sight of six others and so the tale goes on, in Orkney as well as in Shetland.

If one is proposing that brochs were lookout/warning towers, then one needs to tell more about purpose and fit out. How did the lookout work; how did the broch function? The words sound authoritative, but there is nothing there until we know more about everything. Stewart has noted that Mousa can be taken as the model for all brochs. How does he see the lookout function of a broch working? Surely he has not assumed that brochs have good views because Mousa has? Stewart needs to tell us more about the broch roof, or about the unroofed broch; about the stair; and about the everyday operation of the broch which he notes has a high central void.

The idea that brochs were linked visually, and communicated with each other with either smoke or fire needs to be tested and explained in more detail. The concept seems to hope that smoke signals could be sent in the same way as Red Indians communicated. Looking across to Mousa from the Mainland, one can barely see a tiny smudge in the landscape. If smoke or fire was the signal, one wonders just what might be seen, and what message might be communicated. There seems to be only the digital on/off options; but how might one differentiate warning or message smoke from

everyday cooking or heating smoke. If one turns to fire as the source, one must acknowledge that the flame would read more or less like a tiny candle in the distance, with wind and rain and mist causing havoc. Surely an attacker would choose a foggy day to approach? Then there is the source of this smoke or fire. Does it come from the top of the broch? If so, how? Waving a flame on a stick, or generating smoke from a drum, not only begs questions about roof, access, and top detailing of the broch, but also about the practicalities: the flame would be less than a match when viewed from the Mainland, if the day was clear. There are many questions to be answered here,

even though the concept might be desirable in the context of a military function for the brochs.

It could very well be that this apparent relationship between brochs might only be happenstance, with each broch being sited to maximise its exposure to open vistas as a way of controlling access, with relationships being established in ad hoc overlaps. Might brochs also have been used for navigation? The matter needs to be reviewed, as we know little about the ‘lookout’ design of brochs, and can suggest the communications between them would have been ineffective.

p.18

One thing is certain, that the broch-builders had no need to defend themselves against the original inhabitants.

One can accept this as local men must have been used in the construction that would have been a significant step for the community.

p.18-19

The broch-builders were farmers, fishermen, stock-breeders, fowlers, hunters and beachcombers. They probably had to be. The broch midden at West Burra in 1951 included forty-foot whale, common and grey seal, red-deer, pony, cattle, sheep (two breeds, one goat-like), pigs of all sizes, some with tusks up to four inches long, swan, gannet, cormorant, raven, gull, cod, oyster, mussel, limpet, welk, cockle. From other brochs we can add to their menu graphs, porpoise, dogfish, haddock, crab. They caught otter, and in Scottish brochs, wolf, wild boar and wild cat has been found. They kept domestic cat. . . . They ground their oats and barley in querns.

The midden finds tell us a lot about these people who lived lives that seem not very different to those of island folk today, pre-oil. Shetland crofters were also fishermen, hunters, craftsmen, etc., etc. - flexible and capable rather than specialists. Stewart says nothing about diseases that must have played a large role in lives at this time.

p.19-20

Whale bones were put to various uses rafters, door-sockets, stools, cups and agricultural implements. Horn was widely used, as nowadays, for tool and knife handles. . . .

Whorls, usually made of soapstone, are common in brochs.

Broch pottery generally was both plain and ornamented.

Stone was used for querns, lamps, beads, moulds and cups, and stones with holes bored in them have been found, either sinkers for use in fishing or loom weights.

One can see the variety of materials and items that have been used as rafters in the Arnol blackhouse on Lewis.

p.20

Rings, bracelets, pins, brooches, etc. have been found in bronze.

Iron disintegrates rapidly, but spear-heads, chisels, daggers blades, knives, arrowheads, swords, hatchets and rivets, have been found in fragmentary condition, though not in Shetland. When we consider how rare weapon finds are in medieval castles, we cannot assume that the scarcity of weapon finds indicates a structure primarily defensive. Sling-stones may be found in almost every broch.

This is an interesting understanding that Stewart seems to generally ignore with his apparent preference for military uses for the broch.

Note: The soils of Shetland are acidic; neither iron nor bone relics are found.

p.20

Broch-builders were certainly familiar with the warfare of the time. The soIid lower wall was proof against battering rams; the height and the ever-present supply of ammunition in the stones of the upper storeys made scaling-ladders useless. The outer defences were of approved military pattern, and required many men to man them; the enemy approaching the doorway had to expose his unshielded right flank, or do something more dangerous if the broch wall was on his left hand. Once crouched in the passage he could, in some brochs, be harassed from guard chambers on the right and left, and between the lintels from above. Inside the broch, he was the target for missiles from the wall-tops and tiers of internal ‘windows.’ If he mounted the stairs, which was (sic) always entered from the left quadrant of the broch after one had negotiated the passage and got inside, he had again to expose his right side to reach it, and then could not freely use his right arm to fight his way upstairs. The stair steps, besides, were made so short the (sic) they could not possibly get a firm footing, and from the gallery ends enthusiasts could prod his back with spears. No wonder Mousa could not be taken by the Orkney earl.

What is meant by ‘the ever-present supply of ammunition in the stones of the upper storeys’? Is Stewart suggesting that the broch inhabitants demolished the broch and used the stones as defence? This seems to be a very strange strategy that appears to be a solution to the problem of how defensive missiles are transported to the very top of the broch if it was not to be demolished.

The idea that ‘inside the broch, he (the intruder) was the target for missiles from the wall-tops and tiers of internal ‘windows’,’ offers a muddled theorising about brochs. What ‘wall-tops’ were available for this purpose? Is Stewart envisaging the broch as seen at Mousa, without a roof? If so, did the inhabitants just keep demolishing the walls to get stones to throw? This is all very confused thinking that continues with the idea of ‘windows.’ If one looks at the Mousa sectional drawing, it would be obvious that a missile could not readily be thrown through the depth of these voids, because one could, not even today, with a hollow interior, view the floor of the broch. Stewart seems to choose theories that suit his overall vision that appears to be Mousa today, when it is very likely that there were internal structures in the broch that would limit views from the ‘windows.’ Stewart himself writes about these possible/probable structures later in his text. Then one has to ask: did the defenders demolish the inner walls to get rocks to throw through the ‘windows,’ or were tonnes of rocks brought into the galleries for this purpose?

This muddled theorising about brochs creates a complex, suggestive set of concepts that are so attractive that they become parts of other theories, all when the basis is flimsy or untenable.

p.20-21

The inside arrangements of the broch are still not clear, as the modern excavations have preserved internal features which were constructed by people who tore down the brochs when they were no longer needed for defence and lived in them. A primary feature was the . . . scarcement . . . There might be two or three of these in the height. A use may have been as ledges to support lofts or an inside verandah roof. Probably they were constructional to give equal balance in the sides of the wall galleries.

How the brochs were roofed is doubtful. A leather awning stretched over the top is possible . . . but would have left the inside in darkness when in use. Post holes inside some brochs seem to suggest that there was a circular verandah inside supported on the lower scarcement, leaving the centre of the broch open for fires. A well or tank for water was a feature of most brochs. Possibly roofing arrangements in winter and summer would have differed.

And possibly not too.

While the internal arrangements are unclear, there seems little enthusiasm for hypothesising about the interior in any detail. Still, in spite of this, Stewart identifies one of the defining differences of the broch as being its high central space. Just what is what needs clarification. We cannot have theories supporting one notion while others support or rely on something different being the case.

p.21-22

It is easier to suggest why the broch came into being than how. Anyone seeing the nuraghs of Sardinia, which are rather smaller towers in similar positions, and are certainly older than the brochs, could get from these the idea of the tower shape, the one entrance passage, the staircase in the wall and the corbelled chambers built in the wall thickness. . . . But the broch has many features of its own. The lintelled hollow upper walls, and the open centre are are features which belong to the broch alone.

The popular theory at present . . . is that they were a variety of buildings, merging on the one hand into the broch tower, and on the other into the round house or Cornwall, the wag of Caithness, the earth house of the Hebrides, and nebulous forms constructed in timber. Most of them were defended farmhouses about eight feet high. . . . is simply nonsensical.

The older theory . . . is that the brochs evolved from the double walls defending the necks of promontories . . . there are no buildings where we can trace the steps.

The broch towers lasted for only a short period. The design was very quickly perfected and they fell into disuse as soon as the immediate danger was past. . . . most of them lasted for a long time as dwellings. Nearly every Shetland broch which has been excavated has the same features, the inside has been converted into a wheelhouse.

Just what is what in broch research needs to be clearly resolved if there is ever going to be a true understanding of brochs. Stewart’s writing shows how confused and muddled broch thinking has become, accepting the things are unknown while proposing purposes that come with latent assumptions that are irrational or unreasonable. Yet in spite of this, the ideas linger and taint thinking in a way that is not only a waste of time, but simply foolish: rigour is needed.

The difference in visions is that which sees the broch as a fighting machine, a tool, with every part there to enhance some military tactic, as with a castle; and that which sees the place as a safe, defendable building in which to keep/store/do things vitally important to the broch group, such things as might involve food and drink for times of famine, and spiritual supports; things sacred and meaningful for the broch community, and such things as might relate to death, the gods, and the world of spirits, matters which all need to be properly managed to ensure the well-being of the future of the group, involving crops, rain, seasons, fertility, evil spirits, good spirits, haunting spirits, sickness, death, ceremonies, etc.

The first concept turns everything into an heroic ‘Boys Own’ set of activities, with a boldness that easily engages the mind with a violent energy that distracts from any questioning about a rational whole; whereas the second idea means that one has to think of the quiet, static role of every detail of the necessity of the broch to create an encompassing wholeness in the everyday life of the place that can manage decay and loss safely.

It is the difference between a slap-dash aggression, with the rude, piecemeal activity as seen in a pirate movie, and the concept of living contentedly, knowing that all matters are in control. One can point out how each concept generates theories with a matching fragmentation of declarations of certainty, and a quiet wholeness sensing meaning in everyday things, almost as a self-fulfilling prophecy.

The latter circumstance allows one to envisage the broch as holding a vital core role in a community that may not have gathered tightly around the broch, ‘in its shadow,’ but could have lived scattered, not too loosely, around it. A community would have had fields for grain and other food, and fields for fodder for animals nearby, and been structured into a pattern that was aware of relationships with other communities, and those within the community itself, forming a settlement that reflected and accommodated these functions. One could see the broch as the core, the ‘cathedral’ of the village, holding a democratic, but vital role that was just as critical as tilling the ground or carrying water; an everyday, living role, not a part-time, exclusive retreat. The community can be seen as an integral group, caring about and engaged in its survival with its daily chores, and not gathered around watching for and waiting for an aggressive attack, or being bothered by the neighbours, wanting to watch over them or to communicate with them.

The other view suggests a village castle, suggesting a lord and his serfs, an intuition that even Stewart rejects.

Trying to guess the significance of a puff of smoke seems as fantastic as a ‘Biggles’ story. One might be better hypothesising runners, or pony riders being the messengers between places, using much the same system as the Romans implemented, that allowed communications between districts and countries that were more efficient and reliable than today’s postal systems.

One could envisage the broch as a place of mediation, meeting, trading, where neighbouring villages might bring their excesses to trade with the other village’s surplus, at the heart of the ‘safe’ - a food ‘safe’ and a safe place for stores, cool, ventilated, smoked, mould free.

One can see the options as being: the broch with a military purpose; or the broch with a social role. The details of the social role, including its construction, have been assembled as an attempt to provide an integral whole. Those who wish to promote the military vision must do the same, and present a cohesive vision in detail, accommodating things everyday and necessary as well as involving things aggressive and brutal with a gory, ‘Boys Own’ delight, or the smug feeling of a shrewd, inevitable victory, or a skillful bluff by implementing some smart oversight.

The difference: consider the intramural stair - one concept sees the stair rising anti-clockwise as a way to stop the right-handed swordsman from swinging his blade – a defensive ploy; where the other idea has the stair as a spiritual ambulation, rising to higher levels. As one climbs Mousa, one realises how awkward and unsafe the stair is, with this in itself being enough to limit aggression; the new rope handrail becomes a lifeline that was not available for the broch dwellers. The challenge holds more meaning in raising ‘inner’ awareness of the body in a spiritual manner, a testing challenge within the grim, dark and damp confinement that could be sensed as what the Psalms call ‘the valley of death,’ on the way to light and salvation, to ‘rebirth,’ in a space that we see as commonplace today, when it would have been the only inner stair known to the broch dwellers, turning it more into ‘Jacob’s ladder’ and all that this means symbolically, than a convenient lookout/lighthouse (defence and messages) access corridor. One could say that the stair was truly an ‘awe-full’ experience, the very essence of the broch.

It is the stair that is the most ignored aspect of the broch, while being a core part of its definition. Theories and graphic illustrations take it for granted as a service access without ever resolving its upper termination, while relying on this as an unspecified notion that will accommodate anything a theory might envisage. The stair is seen merely as a way from A to B, and is taken for granted. The experience of this space is never considered; it is left as the true black hole of the broch vision.

Note: It would be an interesting experiment to do a smoke test on a detailed model of a broch in order to get a visual representation of the air flows through the broch. Such a test should reveal the purpose of the inner openings and the twin wall, while illustrating the way in which smoke actually gathered and infiltrated the various volumes. Both these issues are involved in the functions the brochs are assumed to hold, and could assist in shaping concepts more precisely; e.g., understanding the broch as a safe storage place.