Ukrainian Borscht and the Archaeology of Conflict – Global Adventures in Food and Archaeology

I wanted to take a trip to Ukraine with this post, in light of recent events. Instead of writing up my own version of Borscht, the National Dish of Ukraine, and Vushka (dumplings), I looked to the New York Times.

You can find their recipes in the links below or on my recipe cards at the bottom:

Winter Borscht: a warm or cold sour soup. While many versions exist, the Ukrainian version is marked by the use of beetroot. I kept the vegetables in, along with the beets, to make it more robust. Some people also recommend blending some of the beets before adding them back in to make it creamier.

Vushka: Ukrainian mushroom and onion dumplings, often served in the borscht. You can also pan-fry these in butter (highly recommend).

These dishes have become part of the Ukrainian identity. Something I found interesting while researching what dishes to make is the fact that the many similarities among the national dishes of Eastern European countries are largely connected with the “the political, social, and economic revival of the region as a former part of the Soviet block and following long periods of historical turmoil” as well as the history of agricultural production in the region (ie what foods grow here). In essence, what becomes a national dish is rooted in product availability and cooking methods; both of which are heavily influenced by history, geography, and culture.

For this post, rather than attempting to trace the origins of Borscht back in time (I will say the first mention dates back to the 16th century), I thought I would go into the history of war, conflict, and violence, from an archaeological perspective. What follows is by no means all I have to say on the topic, think of it as an introduction rather than the entire synthesis.

The Archaeology of Conflict

Ukraine, like its neighbors, has been home to many peoples, ethnicities, empires, and civilizations over the centuries, from early Greek, Roman, and Byzantine control, to the 5th-6th century Antes peoples, to the Kyivan Rus Federation from the 9th century until the 13th-century Mongol invasion (by the Golden Horde Mongols) which created the Kingdom of Ruthenia, to the turbulent history of foreign domination (there are so many different empires in play; Poland, Russian, Ottoman, Soviet, etc) lasting from the 13th century until Ukrainian Independence in 1990.

This turbulent history undoubtedly plays a role in the current conflict. While the history behind the current war is too large to cover here, I want to briefly touch on the archaeology of war and conflict. Archaeologists are interested in all of human history, and that includes conflict and violence. In fact, one could argue that these have been a part of human social relations for tens of thousands of years. That is not to say that these are a predetermined part of human nature (I strongly disagree with this sentiment, read about it here). Simply that we, as a human species, have a long history of conflict. Our exact relationship with conflict and violence; however, is something that anthropologists (archaeologists included) do not agree on. In essence, the debate falls into a false dichotomy of biological determinism (violence is embedded in our DNA), or cultural relativism (our actions are determined and/or directed by our culture).

Whatever the relationship between the human species and conflict, I can safely say that the archaeological record is rife with examples of both conflict and of peace. There are some common patterns we can discern, such as a link between the shift from food gathering to food production, the development of complex societies, and warfare, but they do not go hand-in-hand in all places. Even our ability to predict (in a way) war based on the occurrence of the right conditions, such as environmental upheaval, does not mean it occurred. An examination of the archaeological record pushes us to think past human universals of conflict.

This brings up something that I have been meaning to explore since my partner read, and then often repeated, that “believe it or not, today we may be living in the most peaceful moment in our species’ existence”, to quote The Better Angels of Our Nature by Steven Pinker. He makes this conclusion in part because of how he reads the archaeological record (to see a more elaborate breakdown of why he is wrong, again check out the Sapiens post here). Essentially, Pinker argues that we have a long history of violence and war and that our ancestors died at a large percentage from conflict. Something that is not supported by the archaeological record (if you ever read a claim like this, take a moment to reflect on the data. What data supports it? How? Where was it gathered? i.e. be critical of bold and grand claims that speak to the whole of the human condition).

So, what does the archaeological record show? How we see things like conflict and violence, like with most things in archaeology, is hard and fraught with error and misinterpretation.

To see conflict in the past, archaeologists have to look to indicators in the material record. Sometimes, this is straightforward, such as archaeological excavations of known battlefields. But oftentimes, evidence is less direct. Maybe we recover built walls around a city, such as at many of the city-states of ancient Mesopotamia which used fortifications to protect the land. Or perhaps we discover bodies where the bones show signs of trauma (and even the weapons), such as the classic case of Ötzi the iceman (who had a flint arrowhead in his left shoulder.) Or perhaps we find the burning and topplings of monuments, such as the heritage destruction intentionally enacted by the Islamic State. Sometimes we even recover the drawings of violence, such as the murals at Bonampak which graphically illustrate warfare and sacrifice (see the figure below).

Pin en Mesoamerica - Maya — Bonampak mural showing the ruler King Yahaw Chan Muwaan standing above the dead captive

But just as these examples seem logical, it is just as easy to think of other explanations. And sometimes, what seems to indicate violence and conflict may in fact not do so. Maybe those walls were meant to delineate space along social and hierarchical boundaries and were not fortifications, such as at the Maya city of Mayapan. Maybe Otzi was an outlier in an otherwise peaceful society. Maybe the drawings of violence were just propaganda and not the supposed literal historic record. Even classic identifications of warfare, such as the toppling of the Moai on Rapa Nui (Easter Island), long thought to be due to inter-group conflict pre-contact, has been shown to be false.

All of this to stay, it can be easy to misread the archaeological record. The record can be ambiguous and rife with contradictions. It is only through careful examination, and re-examination, of the past that we can come up with the best explanations. Looking to the past and using static remains to interpret dynamic human behaviors is no easy task. And rarely, if ever, does the record support human universals.

So, do we as a species have a global propensity for violence? I don’t know. Our past certainly has numerous examples of conflict. But there are also so many examples of peace. If something in our biology predisposes us to violence, it also predisposes us to be pro-social. To work together. To be resilient.

But that is a post for another day.

Comments? Did you try the recipes? Please share your thoughts!