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.
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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.
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