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Cite as: Arbour, Chelsee. 2007. Megaliths, Man, and the Cosmos:
Implications for both Archaeology and Pseudoarchaeology. PARA Research
Paper A-07. http://pseudoarchaeology.org/a07-arbour.html

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*_Megaliths, Man and the Cosmos_*

*_Implications for both Archaeology and Pseudoarchaeology_*

Chelsee Arbour

May 31, 2007

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Proving that the megaliths of Northern Europe were
constructed as astronomical markers is difficult and creates a lot of
problematic implications for both archaeologists and
pseudo-archaeologists. The idea that one person can observe the stars
from the same spot and notice that each day the sun is in a slightly
different position is relatively unproblematic, as everyone can see how
at different times of the year the sun rises or sets in different
positions (North: 1996: 6). The possibility that as a person observes
this phenomena, the position of the sun can be marked on certain days
which correspond to changing seasons, or the length of daylight hours,
is also relatively unproblematic because of availability of this
phenomenon to all people (North 1996: 7). However, when it comes to
analyzing monumental architecture from prehistory with the intent of
uncovering celestial alignments, this relatively unproblematic issue
becomes loaded with unknowns and misconceptions.

A variety of hypotheses have been put forth on the subject
of megaliths as astronomical markers and ritual spaces, in both
archaeology and pseudo-archaeology, which comes from a longstanding
history of myth and folklore. Of all of the monuments in Northern
Europe, none has been as avidly written about or as romanticized as
Stonehenge, in Southern England. For the purpose of this essay, I
believe that a very brief and general summary of some of the myths
revolving around this structure will provide an understanding of how
pseudo-archaeologies and the archaeological interest in monuments began
to blossom.

One of the first scientific researchers who emphasized the mythic and
ritualized aspect of Stonehenge was William Stukeley, a self-proclaimed
French Druid (Chippindale 2004: 82). Stukeley analyzed and measured
Stonehenge, illustrated a parish church that ‘would have’ accompanied
the site, and drew a representation of the cathedral of Avebury in his
novel on the mythical nature of Stonehenge and the magical druids
(Chippindale 2004: 83). In Stukeley’s mind, it was obvious that
Stonehenge was a ritual space constructed by or at the command of the
great druids. Unfortunately, very little was known of the mythical
brotherhood, and what little information existed in historical records
from the Romans and some British authors did not present any connection
between Stonehenge and the magicians who ‘built’ it (Chippindale 2004:
84).  To reconcile this minor inconvenience, Stukeley turned to the
biblical accounts of the Old Testament and to Hebrew names. From this,
he concluded that the druids were descendants of Abraham, who had left
the East to find enlightenment in the North. Stonehenge was then seen as
being the druids’ temple of learning and direct evidence of their strive
towards enlightenment (Chippindale 2004: 85). When Stukeley published
his work, the mass appeal of an ancient society of magicians became
widespread, and many poets, artists and scientists began making their
own analysis of the ancient site.

Theories of astronomical alignments, based on people spending the night
on summer or winter solstices, as well as explanations of different
ritual practices, began to sprout up all over Northern Europe. Soon any
stone structure that looked constructed regardless of whether it was
naturally formed, was considered the work of the Druids. This Druid
craze did not stay in Britain; it went all over Northern Europe.
Germany, Denmark, Poland, France, Scotland and Ireland all had similar
theories revolving around the construction of monumental architecture,
no matter how different the monuments were physically (Chippindale 2004:
88). This is not to say that all of these scholars believed that the
Druids of Britain had come to the region to practice their arts. On the
contrary, the Druids were thought to have originated from a variety of
different areas, or had been influenced by the sacred prehistoric
priests of a given region. The nationalistic tendencies in these early
theories are definitely not something to overlook. Everyone wanted to
claim that in prehistory, the forefathers of their country were the ones
who had obtained the first knowledge of ritual and the first to map out
the movement of the stars by constructing great markers (Balfour 1976:
11-33). It’s not surprising that this Druid craze took place, given that
only a hundred years prior to Stukeley’s claims there were theories that
Merlin had brought many of the stones for British monuments from Ireland
by magic. At this time, theories of great pagan rituals where human
sacrifice and sexual debauchery occurred were also widely spread
(Balfour 1976: 17-33).

This is not to say that legends and myths were not prevalent before
Stukeley; on the contrary, there were many written accounts of
Stonehenge and its magical origins. These accounts began with the Romans
and Julius Caesar’s documentation of the evil pagan primitives in
Britain, and continued all the way through to the beginnings of
scientific analysis in the 1600’s. Rather, Stukeley’s case emphasizes
how preconception and romanticism can infiltrate a scientific endeavor
and influence how history is conceived for a very long time. In
contemporary society, druids are still considered by some to be the
builders of Stonehenge and other monumental constructions in Britain.
Megaliths in other countries, like Denmark, are seen as places of great
ritual importance and a testament to the sacred priests of the past.
Offerings are left regularly at a variety of different monuments, and
mass solstice rituals are conducted at the largest monumental sites
(Chippindale 2004: 257-258). It is not surprising given this background
that pseudo-archaeological theories are widely accepted and have been
produced on a regular basis over the past decades.

I have made the distinction between past research based on folklore and
haphazardly argued connections of the not so distant past (up to roughly
the 1800s) and the pseudoarchaeological hypotheses that have been
proposed rather recently in contemporary history because of one simple
fact; the theoreticians of the past couldn’t have known any better. It
is acknowledged that theories such as Stukeley’s have a lot of
pseudoarchaeological tendencies, but the main difference is that during
that time period there really weren’t any scientific methods developed
to complete investigations of this sort, although clearly Stukeley had a
preconception of who built what and why. The pseudoarchaeological
theories of the present do not have the same excuse. An enormous amount
of scientific research has been conducted on the nature and possible
alignments of monuments in Northern Europe; almost all of these sources
use a variety of state of the art techniques and methods that provide
raw hard data on what is possible, probable or in need of further
research. So what are the pseudoarchaeological theories about the
possibility of astronomical alignments in Northern European monuments?

One of these tendencies is to present information on the
past vaguely enough that the information appears commonplace or widely
accepted. This includes connecting documented historical fact,
archaeological evidence and internally consistent hypotheses that cannot
be compared to any other information without being shown as externally
inconsistent. Presenting information in this way blends historical fact
with individual fallacy, which can be indistinguishable to a reader who
does not have prior knowledge of the subject or who is not inclined to
do research. These claims include the hypothesis of the origins of
druids and to some extent various theories about what type of technology
would be needed to construct the great monuments of Northern Europe
(Gibson 2005: 11). Other tendencies include claims of
‘first-time-that-this-hypothesis-has-been-proven’, in which the author's
theory is put forth as already established and agreed upon. An example
of this can be seen in Andis Kaulins’ monograph ‘Stars, Stones and
Scholars’ (Kaulins 2003). This example has been chosen to indicate a few
of the more mainstream trends in pseudo-archaeological claims for the
function and astronomical relation of the megaliths of Northern Europe.

In this massive book, Kaulins argues that almost all of the monuments in
Northern Europe, going from France, to Germany, Denmark, Poland,
Britain, Ireland and Scotland can be seen as one large, unified
astronomical system of markers. He uses a variety of drawings and
pictures with notes and arrows to demonstrate that almost every monument
is a part of a larger astronomical star maps (2003: 27-56). His main
argument revolves around the cup marks that have been found on a variety
of different megaliths across Northern Europe. He claims that each set
of cup marks are depictions of constellations, which the larger
monuments like Stonehenge were later based on. To accentuate his theory,
Kaulins takes a variety picture of stones with the cup marks and
superimposes dots/lines that supposedly connect them into larger form of
a given constellation (2003: 29). He goes on to describe various stone
structures, small monuments, burial chambers and larger open-air
megaliths as all being a part of this larger system of star charts,
which (supposedly) clearly indicate the orientation of prehistoric man
towards the sky (2003: 31).

He also discusses how mainstream archaeologists and astronomers did not
come to the same conclusions because of the disagreement in scientific
circles about what to look for (2003: 37). He continues this discourse
of star maps by describing how this system cannot be seen from just one
stone. Instead, to understand the system, you have to look at all of the
stone structures and megaliths in order to see the pattern (2003: 37).
To his credit, Kaulins does talk a little (about half a page) about some
of the scientific calculations that are needed to verify astronomical
alignments in prehistory (such as azimuths). While he does pose the
question of whether modern day alignments could reflect prehistoric
alignments, he doesn’t try to answer that question. He tentatively
concludes that the answer is yes, mentioning that such claims need to be
verified (2003: 40).

To recapitulate, first, Kaulins claims to have found a unifying
connection between all of the megaliths of Northern Europe and their
associated stone structures in the form of star maps. He backs up this
claim with pages and pages of pictures, some being drawn on to
illustrate the more important features, but does not discuss in length
a) how he discovered this phenomena; b) what his motivations were for
researching the megaliths; c) what are some of the implications both for
our understanding of prehistoric motivations or how this will affect the
scholarship that had already been accumulated on the possible
astronomical alignments; and d) what is shown in the prehistoric
archaeological record. He also haphazardly connects different monuments
in a variety of regions regardless of the period in which they were
constructed or the different material cultures that could be seen in
prehistory across regions. He tends to assume the ‘answer to the
question’ will obviously prove his theory right, even though he cannot
provide any factual evidence to support his claim. Almost no
mathematical equations are presented, and what little is given is so
vague and broad that it doesn’t do anything to support his claims. Other
considerations, such as alignment degrees and environmental factors
(such as cloud cover) are completely ignored. Although only a small
portion of the book has been quoted, the rest of the text uses many of
the same unfounded and unsupported arguments. That is not to say that it
is not an interesting theory. On the contrary, the notion that
constellations were depicted across Northern Europe as a huge star map
is truly fascinating and an intriguing proposal for further research. It
is his approach that is not founded.

Unfortunately Kaulins' framework is not alone in its all-encompassing
claims. One of the reasons that this type of analysis is so misleading
is that the general public usually doesn’t have a deep-rooted
understanding of the archaeological evidence from the prehistory of
Northern Europe, nor do they have a detailed conception of the different
types of constraints that influence prehistoric life or the problems
associated with claims of astronomical alignments (Gibson 2005: 11).
What makes these sort of pseudoarchaeological claims so difficult to
refute once they have been rooted in mass culture is the tendency of
archaeologists to ignore the problem. Because of the sometimes ludicrous
nature of most of these types of claims, many archaeologists do not try
to address them as they would a scientific hypothesis. When an
archaeologist or an astronomer does respond to such a claim, it is
usually within a framework that is not readily accessible to the public
and therefore does little to ‘set the record straight’. Another problem
is that many archaeologists, and would-be archaeologists (like myself),
have a sometimes overwhelming distaste for such claims that makes any
sort of commentary overly critical, impatient and elitist (Krupp 1997:
210). But why is it that archaeologists react in such a way against
pseudoarchaeological theories?

There are many reasons why seasoned researchers in both
archaeology and astronomy would have such unmerciful critiques of
pseudoarchaeological claims. One of the reasons for this reaction is
that a lot of pseudoarchaeological claims are based on how we, in modern
times, can infer the conceptualization of what was meaningful to
prehistoric populations based on what we can see in our modern sky. The
difference is that archaeo-astronomers, astronomers and archaeologists
ask what prehistoric populations saw in the sky and how it was
meaningful to /_them_/ (Baity 1973: 393). This is not an easy question
to answer. A major theoretical question that arises when addressing this
problem is what is represented in the archaeological record and how it
relates to the prehistoric skyscape. Detailed analysis of monuments in
Northern Europe has been undertaken by a variety of different
researchers, and there have been many revisions of what we should be
looking for and thinking about when analyzing these structures.

Anthony Aveni (1972) argues that in order to have a better understanding
of how prehistoric humans viewed their surroundings, we must first
understand what the surroundings were. That is to say, we would need to
know what the environmental, visibility and material constraints were
when a monument was built in order to begin to make inferences about why
and how it was built (1972: 531). In order to check the precision of
megalithic alignments, Aveni notes that a) precession of the equinoxes
(when they will appear at certain elevations and time zones); b)
deviation from perceived skyline and astronomical skyline (question of
elevation and depression of land); c) atmospheric refraction; d)
atmospheric extinction (the conditions in which a body of light can be
seen); and e) barometric and elevation variation (which can change the
azimuth degree if not mathematically corrected) must be taken into
account before inferring the social significance of the monument (1972:
532). These theoretical considerations stem from the broader question of
what is and is not visible to the human eye in the sky at a moment in
history (Schaefer 2000: 121). Different factors will influence what can
or cannot be seen at any given time, such as humidity, altitude above
sea level, time of year, latitude, ground temperature, sky clarity both
in turns of weather patterns and astronomical inhibitors, such as
molecules above the ozone layer, water vapor, sky brightness, phase of
the moon and position of the sun (Schaefer 2000: 122). The different
visual constraints of observing the sky vary from day to day, season to
season, site to site and depend on what factors (listed above) or
combination of factors are in play at a certain time (Schaefer 2000:
126). A further consideration for measuring alignments is which
celestial bodies were observed and recorded in prehistory.

Alexander Thom argues that if a site aligns with four specific
astronomical events, then it is at least likely that the sun and moon
movements were observed and recorded. These events are the rising and
setting of the winter and summer solstice, when the day or night is the
longest (1971: 36). He also argues that if a site does align certain
events within a reasonable degree of error, then it is possible to
mathematically determine the effects of refraction and extinction as
well as what effect ecliptic phenomena would have had on these
alignments (1971: 36). Although this theory may in fact have a lot of
merit, the problem is that centuries of changing constraints and
environmental conditions can alter the original alignments of different
structures. Because of these changing factors, which were not originally
accounted for by Thom, a good portion of his work is currently viewed as
falling within the realm of pseudo-archaeological research. Another
problem is deciding what a reasonable degree of error would be. But what
about planets and stars? Ruggles notes that stellar orientations are by
far much most difficult to investigate. This is primarily because of the
atmospheric extinction rate, in which the rising and setting of stars
would be hidden by the brightness of either the sun or the moon. In
order for monuments to have been based on alignments with stars, the
stars would have had to be at a higher altitude than the horizon profile
(Ruggles 1999: 277). On top of this, stars change position frequently,
and within centuries monuments that were originally based on a certain
set of stars would no longer align with anything because of this movement.

In order to verify star alignments, we would need to know the date of a
monument within a certain time frame, which in the majority of cases we
do not. On top of this, if we did know the estimated dates for a given
monument within a few hundred years, we would have to test almost every
year within the margin of error for any sort of star alignments (Ruggles
1999: 277). If an alignment became evident from the testing of each
year, it would then have to stand up against the scrutiny of other
researchers in order to be considered an accurate assessment of the
astronomical function of the site, which is next to impossible because
of the uncertainty of the actual age of a site. The difficulty of
assessing star alignments is one of the reasons why so many researchers
focus on sun or moon orientations. When pseudoarchaeological theories of
star maps and star alignments are presented, the basis for these
theories usually does not include a detailed discussion of these
difficulties and are therefore refuted by mainstream researchers as
unfounded or ridiculous.  The concern when investigating prehistoric
monuments is not only what has been left behind and how it aligns with
what we see in today’s sky, but also questions such as: What
environmental factors influenced how these megaliths were constructed?
What was the motivation behind the building of these structures? If they
were astrological markers, what were they marking? How were these
astronomical events recorded? How did monumental architecture fit into
the larger social system in prehistory? Why were these architectural
forms chosen to represent celestial events if they were astronomical
identifiers? These issues go well beyond what has been presented by
pseudoarchaeological theories, as well as strict alignment hypotheses,
and focus much more on what life was like in prehistory.

There are also methodological issues that go past the calculation
concerns of reconstructing prehistoric alignments. The landscape and the
environment is always shifting and changing so that no two people can
experience the exact same environment. Even if these changes were as
small as different weather patterns, or brightness, the landscape would
appear different (Darvill 1981: 4). If two people from the same time
period cannot experience the same landscape, then how can we as
researchers hope to reconstruct the prehistoric environment within a
certain degree of probability? This is a major problem for time periods
that do not have written documentation, because anything that we
describe will always be a little off. This is true among contemporary
researchers as well. Two independent researchers will view a site from
different perspectives and therefore have differing descriptions of that
site (Cox 2001: 26). When analyzing astronomical alignments for
megaliths, there is always a certain margin of error in calculating to
what degree a stone aligns. Different analysts may fall on the opposite
sides of this margin based solely on their previous experience (Cox
2001: 26). The choosing of what margin of error is more correct is not
necessarily a problem, except when faced with a site where there has
been a large amount of erosion or dispositions that has already skewed
the original alignments of the structure (Cox 2001: 26). The problem
then is that any alignments taken from poorly preserved sites will not
reflect the original alignments. This would be abstracted by the
individual choices of different analysts with certain theoretical
frameworks and experience.

These preconceived notions are developed from various sources, such as
past field experience and methodological decisions. However, one of the
major problems within archaeoastronomy is the disagreement about what is
relevant, what is evidence and what is fallacy (Ruggles 1999: 16). A lot
of this disagreement is a result of what is perceived to be relevant to
the social context of a given site, and not nessicarily a concern for
the statistical data that illustrate what aligns with what celestial
body on what day (Ruggles 1999: 16). These alignments are usually tested
before being published in order to rule out randomly distributed or
accidental alignments that weren’t humanly constructed. These tests
address the question of how precise, or how many alignments are
necessary before it can safely be assumed that a structure is indeed an
astronomical marker (Ruggles 1999: 18). In the end, there is no
universally agreed upon number of alignments or uncontested precision
which can be used as a basis for investigating monumental architecture.
For the most part analysts have to make judgment calls on how much is
enough to reasonably be considered a true alignment (Ruggles 1999: 18).
From this perspective, its no wonder that pseudoarchaeologists think
that they can make judgment calls on what is reasonable and what isn’t.
Unfortunately for them, these aren’t the only considerations that
archaeoastronomers have in mind when thinking about astronomical
alignments. Some of this disagreement comes from interpretations of what
would be relevant to the prehistoric populations that constructed the
monuments. For example, ecliptic events probably would not have mattered
much to the builders of monuments who were primarily interested in
documenting the sun as it moves through the seasons (Balfour 1976: 49).

Other questions about how the surrounding environment of certain
monuments would influence what was constructed are also concerns that
come up when trying to understand the motivations behind prehistoric
choices (Aveni 1989: 6) What did astronomical event x mean to the people
who witnessed and recorded it? (Aveni 1989: 7). Why was x more important
then y (Aveni 1989: 7)? How were these events incorporated into the
social ideology (Aveni 1989: 7)? And how are these decisions reflected
in other aspects of prehistoric society, like decorative motifs or
settlement patterns (Ruggles 1984: 14). Instead of being primarily
concerned with questions about whether alignments are precise, these ask
how to view monuments and what the environments of prehistory were like.
The issue is more about why prehistoric populations would want to
construct these monuments in the first place. This is another
complicated set of questions that do not necessarily have answers yet. 
Yet, some interpretations have been put forth by different researchers.

R.J.C Atkinson (1974) for example, argues that the movements of the sun
and the moon would have been especially important to early farmers, who
would depend on understanding the changing seasons in order to maintain
their crops (126). He also argues that shepherds from early pastoral
communities would spend a lot of their time moving with their flock,
which consequently allows for a deep familiarity with the movements of
the sky (1974: 126). While this is undoubtedly logical, I would argue
that hunter-gatherers would have a relatively equal investment in
understanding the changes of the seasons, because they would need to
know what resources are available to them at a given time in the year.
This would be more crucial to hunter-gatherers during periods of
environmental change and resource shifting, which is the case in the
Neolithic of Northern Europe (the time period when monumental
architecture first began to appear on the landscape). Gibson also argues
from this perspective and postulates that Neolithic man (which also
includes hunter-gatherers) would have invested a lot of time/energy in
studying how the sun and moon predict seasonal change (2005: 104).
However, he hypothesizes that our modern conception of time and change
is vastly different from that of prehistoric populations (2005: 104). To
contemporary populations, the sun and moon have become binary opposites
that allow us to categorize the difference between night and day. Our
world is filled with technology that informs us of the exact time of
day, and we no longer focus on how this can be discerned from the
natural environment which we live in. In prehistory, this would be
extremely different and it is quite logical to assume that prehistoric
communities would have relied on natural phenomena to inform them of
changes in the environment.

If we take this line of thinking further, constructing markers that
indicate the different seasons (a very large type of seasonal clock)
would have been a worthy investment to a group whose livelihood depended
on time changes (2005:104). The issue of how time is conceptualized is a
major factor in the discussion of prehistoric monuments. Anthony Aveni
(1989) advocates that the natural flow and rhythm of time is always
available to those who watch for it (26). What he meant by watching time
is that anyone can become sensitive to the moment of time by watching
the changes in nature. Therefore, a time sensitive individual or
community has the ability to be very precise when recording time. This
brings us back to the question of whether exactness was really the point
of recording the movements of celestial bodies in the sky. If recording
the seasons was the reason behind the construction of monuments, then to
pinpoint the exact degree of a rising or setting star would not have
been the point. But then again, it does occur at different sites across
Europe. Could it be possible that it was a combination of both concerns
for recording time and precision of astronomical events? If so, then why
would precision be important?

E.C.Krupp (1997) describes studies from the ethnographic record that
suggest that the important placement of celestial movements within the
social structure of cultures is in part because of the time factor, but
also because of the power that these movements have over the
conceptualization of the world (1997: 153). It has been suggested that
as societies become more complex, different forms of social structures
emerge. One of these structures is the development of chiefdoms. The
chiefdom is structured around one key figure, the leader. The leader
does have certain privileges which are not given to everyone in the
chiefdom but is also responsible for a variety of tasks such as
providing food for feasts, guiding the community, etc (1997: 153). The
election of a chief is based on the candidate's strength and cunning,
but perhaps the most important factor in retaining that power is
ideology (1997: 153). Ideology is a framing device which enables an
individual or community to believe that they operate within a much
broader notion of the natural order. If these chiefdoms were also highly
sensitive to time and changing seasons, then there could be a need to
feel incorporated into that changeability. The notion of ritual could
then be a great part of the construction of monumental architecture
because the monuments could be used both as a recording device as well
as a sacred space in which to reaffirm or establish this connection with
the natural order (Broda 2000:142). The use of ritual is also very
important in maintaining traditions of conception, especially when time
is concerned.

Repetition of activities at certain times (a specific day, time of day,
in the month of) help to reinforce the construction of a worldview
(North 1996: 520). The watching or celebrating of the winter and summer
solstices have been argued to reinforce the understanding of time and
the reinstating of the universal order. There are a lot of issues with
reconstructing ritual behavior and what has been said so far by no means
covers the entire breadth of the debate that revolves around ritual
activity and perception. Due to the scope of this paper, an unfortunate
drawback is the inability to proceed in depth for each issue that is
present in studies on monumental architecture. Nevertheless, the attempt
has been made to describe some of the problems and concerns which are
embedded in this discourse. As can be seen, there are a wide variety of
questions that surround the construction of monumental architecture and
many of these are not directly addressed by pseudo-archaeological
theories. In fact, within the discipline of archaeology and the
framework of archaeoastronomy, a lot of researchers do not address all
the issues either. There is a great amount of disagreement about how to
interpret megalithic construction, and very little initiative to rectify
this conflict. One of the main reasons for this lack of initiative stems
from the various theoretical frameworks that different analyst work
from. Astronomers and archaeoastronomers tend to concentrate more on the
‘what’ questions (such as what astronomical event occurred at what site)
instead of the ‘why’ questions. These ‘why’ questions tend to be
addressed more fully by mainstream archaeologists. There appears to be
very little communication between the two camps, which leads to a lack
of theoretical movement on the whole. It is very easy for theories that
are not factually based to infiltrate the body of literature on this
subject because of this unmitigated debate. This makes it very difficult
for people with no prior knowledge of the debate to pinpoint when
something is pseudoarchaeological or when it is another form of
scientific inquiry.

To conclude, there is a massive amount of interest and documentation on
the monuments of Northern Europe. Within the body of literature, there
are theories that simply do not address questions of how monumental
architecture fit into the social pattern of prehistoric life, whether
the monuments properly align with celestial bodies, or how megaliths
took part in organizing the world of prehistoric people. These theories
tend to be pseudoarchaeological in nature, and usually do not rely on
data that is both verifiable and reproducible. That is not to say that
archaeologists don’t find themselves on the wrong side of the scientific
tracks. Pseudoarchaeology is not limited to people without scientific
backgrounds. However, it does appear to occur more often in the work of
people outside the discipline than within it. One of the major reasons
why this happens less within a scientific community is because
Archaeologists and archaeoastronomers have to submit their findings to
peer review before publishing. After the review, they are still open to
criticism once they are published. This framework tends to make
researchers look for inconsistencies within their own work a lot more
stridently.

The theoretical concerns outlined above do not cover all of the
different perspectives on the construction of monumental architecture or
provide a full view of the history of these inquiries. However, they do
present a starting point towards understanding the intricate and
complicated questions that arise when investigating into the motivations
of prehistoric man. Were the monuments of Northern Europe a large part
of the ideological structure in prehistory? Do they represent ritual
activity? Do they align to astronomical movements? If so, how precise
were they? These questions cannot be fully answered as of yet, but that
doesn’t mean that they never will be. 

*Works Cited*

Atkinson, R.J.C. (1974) Neolithic Science and Technology. /Philosophical
Transactions of the Royal Society of London/ v 276, n 1257: 123-131.

Aveni, Anthony (1972) Astronomical Tables Intended for Use in
Astro-Archaeological Studies. /American Antiquity/ v 37, n 4: 531-540.

Aveni, Anthony (1986) Introduction: whither archaeoastronomy? In /World
Archaeoastronomy: Selected papers from the 2^nd Oxford International
Conference on Archaeoastronomy/ (eds) Anthony Aveni. Cambridge
University Press. Cambridge. 3-12.

Aveni, Anthony (1989) /Empires of Time: Calendars, Clocks and Cultures/.
Basic Books Publishing.

Baity, Elizabeth (1973) Archaeoastronomy and Ethnoastronomy So Far.
/Current Anthropology/ v 14, n4: 389-449.

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