La Roche-Cotard Cave Art confidently assigned to Neanderthal artists.

Since the 1980s an increasing body of material has been assigned to cultural expression by the Neanderthal people, although symbolic material produced by Neanderthal artists remains extremely rare. This material includes a number of carved bones and rocks, a variety of modified shells, and a selection of feathers and Raptor claws apparently modified for use as personal ornamentation. A number of pigments are known to have been used by Neanderthals, although these potentially have other uses than pigmentation, making their purpose hard to assess. Other artefacts are less easy to interpret, such as the 'Mask of la Roche-Cotard', thought to be about 75 000-years-old, a piece of flint which may have been shaped to resemble a face, with a bone pushed through in a way that might represent eyes, or the Bruniquel Cave construction, where, in a large chamber located more than 300 meters from the entrance, many stalagmites have been deliberately broken and placed on the ground to form a large oval structure, around 170 000 years ago. A variety of other symbolic behaviours are associated with Neanderthals, including ritual burials, although many of these are difficult to interpret. What is clear, however, is that Neanderthals did engage in symbolic behaviour, and that the expression of this changed considerably over time.

The 'Mask of la Roche-Cotard', a 75 000-year-old Neanderthal artefact in the collection of the Museé de l'Homme in Paris. Thilo Parg/Wikimedia Commons.

A variety of engraved markings, clearly different to functional cut marks, have been found on rocks, bones, shells, and other items from Middle Palaeolithic sites in Europe and the Middle East. The engraved phalanx of a Giant Deer has been found at an archaeological site Einhornhoehle in Germany, in a level dated to more than 47 000 years ago. A phalanx and eight talons of an Eagle, with cut marks, evidence of burning, and traces of ochre, alongside Mousterian tools, and Neanderthal bones was found at Krapina I in Croatia. (the Mousterian industry is closely associated with Neanderthals in Europe, where it appeared about 160 000 years ago and vanished about 40 000 years ago). One of the Neanderthal bones at Krapina I, a frontal (forehead) has 35 cut marks upon it. A set of Bird bones from Fumane Cave in Italy, dated to between 44 800 and 42 200 years ago show signs of having been cut with a flint blade in a way intended to facilitate the intact removal of large feathers, while in the same cave a fossil shell covered with ochre was recovered from a Mousterian layer. At the Zaskalnaya VI Neanderthal site in eastern Crimea a Raven bone was found with a series of parallel, equidistant notches cut along its main axis. The Los Aviones Mousterian Site, in the Murcia region of southern Spain, has produced marine shells modified in several ways, including shells with perforated umbos and shells showing signs of having been coloured with haematite. Other artificially coloured shells have been found at Anton Cave, also in Murcia. At Quneitra in the Golan Heights, where Neanderthals and Modern Humans are thought to have had a long period of co-existence, a Levallois flint core, 8 cm in length has been found which has been engraved with a pattern of straight parallel lines and semi-circular concentric lines, which are apparently entirely decorative in function. At Gorham’s cave, Gibraltar, a layer containing Mousterian material covered a cave floor carved with geometric designs. The Ardales, Maltravieso and La Pasiega sites, all in Spain, all have markings made on cave walls with a red pigment, which are overlain by a calcite flowstone cement, from which uranium-thorium dates have been obtained which imply Neanderthal artists. However, this has been disputed, dates being a common problem with material thought to be of Neanderthal origins, with most of the material described being identified as Neanderthal by its association with Mousterian tools rather than directly dated.

The La Roche-Cotard Cave in central France was revealed by quarrying in 1846, and excavated by the then owner of the site, François d’Achon in 1912, revealing a number of Mousterian artefacts. Subsequent excavations in the 1970s and from 2008 onwards, have found three additional archaeological sites close to this cave. The sites are numbered in the order they were discovered, with the original cave been LRC I, an open air site at the foot of a nearby cliff being LRC II (which produced the 'Mask of la Roche-Cotard'), a small rockshelter being LRC III, and a smaller cave and associated trench being LRC IV. All of these sites have produced Moustrian artefacts, apart from LRC II, which produced only the enigmatic 'Mask'.

During the 1970s and modern campaigns it was observed that the walls of cave LRC I are marked by finger flutings (gouges into soft rock made with fingers), and in places spotted with red ochre. The walls also have a range of other markings, including scratch marks attributed to Animal claws, smooth patches thought to have been cause by rubbing, again probably by an Animal, percussion marks left by metal tools, presumably in 1912, and a single piece of graffiti, known to date from 1992. 

In a paper published in the journal PLoS One on 21 June 2023, a team of scientists led by Jean-Claude Marquet of the Laboratoire Archéologie etTerritoires and GéoHydrosytèmes COntinentaux at the Université de Tours, formally describe the fingermarks in the LRC 1 cave as intentional engravings, and provide dating evidence which indicates the makers must have been Neanderthals.

The cave is located on a 100 m high plateau in the Touraine Region, which is covered by crop-fields and woodland, and made up of Cretaceous marine sedimentary rock. The Loire Valley cuts through the plateau, to a depth of about 50 m, with the La Roche-Cotard site on the northern side of this valley. The cave, LRC I, is cut into Upper Turonian (Late Cretaceous) soft, sometimes crumbly, sandy yellow limestone. The top of the plateau is covered by a thin layer of silty sand, about a metre thick, which accumulated as a wind-blown deposit during the last glacial. The bedrock is not generally visible on the sides of the plateau, except where it has been exposed by Human activity, having been covered over by solifluction or runoff. The cave appears to have been repeatedly flooded by the River Loire, which is also likely to have been at least partially responsible for its dissolution. While in the Holocene, all of the La Roche-Cotard sites were covered by sediments until these were removed by Human activities in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, in the Late Pleistocene the River Loire was closer to the base of the slope, and would have rapidly removed such sediments, keeping the area accessible to both Animal and Human inhabitants of the region. During the early Holocene, the river shifted its course to the other side of the valley, and sediment began to accumulate, covering the area until much of it was removed in the 1840s to use as building materials for the construction of the Loire Valley Railway.

Location and map of La Roche-Cotard. (A) and (B) Geographical and geological location of La Roche-Cotard. (C) Map of the main Mousterian sites in central-west France. Marquet et al. (2023).

The La Roche-Cotard Cav is about 33 m deep, running southeast-to-northwest, with four main chambers; the Mousterian Gallery, the Lemmings Chamber, the Pillar Chamber and the Hyena Chamber. It may have extended further back in the past; the rear of the Hyena Chamber having collapsed at some point. The soft rock from which the cave is made also contains large slabs and knobs of harder, silicified sediment, which appear to have lent some structural strength; the ceiling of the cave is a silicified layer (the Langeais Hardground), which marks the base of the e Coniacian Epoch.

La Roche-Cotard site. (A) Map of La Roche-Cotard with its four loci: LRC I, LRC II, LRC III and LRC IV. In blue: location of anthropogenic marks. (B) Profiles of slope sections (red lines in (A)) with location of sediments extracted in 1846. Marquet et al. (2023).

The cave opens into the Mousterian Gallery, which has a quartzite sandstone floor, 49.2 m above the Nivellement Général de la France (general levelling of France), and a ceiling 51 m above the same, made from silicified biocalcarenite. at the west end of this chamber a passage 2 m high and 1.5 m wide leads to the Lemmings Chamber. This has two small openings to the outside on its eastern side, and a large passage leading to the Pillar Chamber at its northwest. This chamber has a large central pillar, and a large quartzite slab which forms an extensive platform several tens of centimetres above the floor of the chamber. This has been broken at the north end of the chamber, though a section is still attached to the north wall; this part of the chamber still contains a considerable amount of sediment. The Hyena Chamber can be reached from the Pillar Chamber via a narrow, sinuous passage.

Description of La Roche-Cotard Cave (locus LRC I). (A) Lithological map of the cave floor. (B) XY section in the Pillar and Lemmings Chambers (location in (A)). The elevation of the ground surface increases steeply from the entrance to the Lemmings Chamber, and then only very slightly from southeast to northwest till the Hyena Chamber (1.5 m). 95% of the sediments that occupied a large part of the cave were removed during the 1912 excavation. Layers to the southeast: Middle layer (b), Upper layer (a), Disturbed layer (r). Layers to the northwest: Compact clayey layer with tuff gravel with bone fragments and coprolites (3). Sandy layer with soft reddish clay pebbles (4). Disturbed layers: (1), (2) and (r). The three arrows show the place of the overhang (50.75 m Nivellement Général de la France) extending from the entrance of the cave to the Pillar Chamber. Marquet et al. (2023).

Methodical exploration of the La Roche-Cotard sites began in 2008. Remains attributed of large, medium, and small Vertebrates were uncovered on several levels, and studied systematically, although a palynological analysis was not possible, as the environment comprised porous sediments through which well-oxygenated water had been able to percolate. The location of any lithic remains and faunal remains greater than 2 cm were carefully mapped; sediment samples were then sieved for smaller faunal remains.

Most of the sediment from the LRC I cave was removed in 2012, but sufficient was left within the Pillar Chamber to establish a stratigraphic sequence, with a sandy layer with soft reddish clay pebbles filling a small natural funnel formed in the tuff by water at the base, over which was a compact clay layer with tuff gravel, bone fragments, coprolites, and then two modern, disturbed layers, although none of these can be correlated to any sedimentary unit identified elsewhere. The area in front of the cave entrance produced a very sandy Lower Layer, overlain by a Middle Layer consisting primarily of silt from overflowing of the Loire, and an Upper Layer formed of gelifracts (sloping beds leaning against a rock face) and aeolian sand.

Outside of the cave, five sedimentary units were found across the area. The lowest layer is mainly composed of tuff blocks separated by voids filled with sandy reddish clay, with areas of brown to greenish-yellow, fine silty sand with largely subordinate clay; this layer is thought to be largely derived from weathering of the underlying rocks. The layer above this consists of sandy to silty brown to greyish layers, which are only slightly or not at all carbonated, thought to have been laid down as bottom deposits within the River Loire, at a time when its meandering covered the sites. The third layer consists of a light brown carbonated matrix, with abundant frost-fractured quarzitic sandstone slabs and a few sandy blocks, thought to be a mixture of material that has moved downslope in a landslip. The penultimate layer is brown and texturally selected. It is made up of slightly carbonated fine-grained sand and silt, and its upper limit is tilted toward the south; this layer is thought to comprise aeolian material blown in during a Pleistocene dry phase. Finally, the uppermost layer, which presumably extended everywhere on the slope before 1846, consists of brown to greyish, very heterometric sedimentary layers composed of a dominant silty sand matrix with variable abundance of flint and limestone fragments, thought to be the result of Holocene soil formation, with perioding inclusions of runoff material from the slopes above.

Much of the sediment that filled the cave was removed by François d’Achon in 1912, but sufficient remained for Marquet et al. to develop a stratigraphy for the cave interior. The conduit connecting the Lemmings Chamber to the exterior still contains an undisturbed sequence, comprising two layers, the lower of which Marquet et al. equate to the river sediment layer found outside the cave, and the upper the landslip material which overlies this. In the main cave entrance two niches are again filled with river sediment, while in front of the entrance more of this sediment is covered by a large block of fallen limestone. Some smaller tunnels above the cave were found to be filled with the soil which forms the uppermost layer elsewhere, and a trench excavated above the cave entrance found the same, while a cave excavated below the entrance found a more complete stratigraphic sequence.

Lithostratigraphy and geometric distribution of the superficial deposits outside the cave. (A). Block diagram with loci positions and in particular the sub-loci LRC I-a to d. The stratigraphy of the layers intersected by LRC II (B), LRC III (C) and LRC IV (D). For each locus, the stratigraphic units (U5/red, U4/blue, U3/brown, U2/orange, U1/green) and their vertical extension is indicated. Each unit comprises several layers. Marquet et al. (2023).

Based upon this, Marquet et al. conclude that, at some point after the cave was formed, it was entered by the river, which filled it to a height of at least 60 cm. Some time after the waters receded, the entrance the entrance of the cave was sealed by a landslip, with subsequent Pleistocene and Holocene sedimentary layers forming over this, probably forming a layer about 10 m thick before quarrying began in the 1840s.

Location of undisturbed deposits near the LRC I cave entrance. The map locates the two orthophotos in the centre of the figure. The entrance of the cave, on the left orthophoto, is underlined in black. The dashed horizontal line corresponds to the altitude of the overhang to the pillar room as well as to the lower limit of the ceiling of the cave entrance. Below, the LRC II photograph shows only the upper part of the stratigraphy of this locus, marking the period when sediments began to deposit on the slope. On the left, LRCI-a shows the middle and upper layers inside and outside the cave. Bottom right, LRCI-b  also illustrates the same middle layer as found in LRCI-niches 1 and 2, but inside the cave entrance. LRCI-c shows the location of sediment remnants trapped in ancient and small galleries created by erosion in the hard cretaceous stone, belonging to the deposit which completed the sealing of the entrance. LRCI-d shows sediments very similar to those of LRCI-c which continued to accumulate for some time after the cave was closed. Altitudes are given to clarify the location of these different sections. The lower view of LRC I-niche 2 is from 1975. Marquet et al. (2023).

François d’Achon's 1912 excavations recovered a considerable amount of large- and medium-sized Animal remains within the cave, but their locations were not recorded. The more recent excavations also found significant amounts of such remains, principally at the LRC III and LRC IV sites, the locations and stratigraphic placement of which were carefully recorded. Some of the bones from all four locations show signs of Human activity, including cut marks, burning, and modification for use as tools. Most of the remains appear to have come from Animals that would have occupied the area during temperate phases, such as Bison and Aurochs, Equids and Red Deer. A sequence of predators could also be established, with the area first being used by Cave Lions and Bears, then by Humans, and lastly by Hyenas. In some places an upper faunal layer, comprising cold-period species, such as Marmot and Reindeer, was present. Remains of smaller Vertebrates, including Mammals, Fish, Amphibians, Birds, and Reptiles, were recovered by sieving sediments. 

All four sites also produced Human-manufactured tools. All of these belonged to the Mousterian lithic assemblage, with no later material found. François d’Achon uncovered two assemblages of lithic artefacts within the cave LRC I, although all of these have subsequently been lost, with only a single photograph and some drawings surviving to the present day. The tools are made from Lower Turonian flint, which is available in the form of pebbles in the river terraces. The items documented include a number of Mousterian bifaces in the top part of the lower layer in a corner of the Pillar Chamber, and debetage (flakes) apparently produced using a Levallois technique (the progressive removal of flakes from a prepared core by striking with a percussive tool), within upper part of the lower layer close to the cave entrance, beneath a stone structure which d’Achon believed was a fireplace. Marquet et al. uncovered another Mousterian biface in the South Pillar Chamber, d in the remnants of an unidentified layer. They also found some thin elongated flakes in the lower layer of the Mousterian, at a depth below that to which d’Achon had excavated. Another blade was found on the top of the lower layer within the Pillar Chamber, though this is difficult to place stratigraphically.

Map showing the location of lithic industry discoveries. The two brown zones 1 and 2 locate François d’Achon’s discoveries (1. typical Mousterian with Levallois flaking, surmounted by the Mousterian of Acheulean tradition, 2. typical Mousterian with Levallois flaking). The three green zones locate recent discoveries (3, 4 and 5. Typical Mousterian with Levallois debitage). Marquet et al. (2023).

Levallois flakes were also found at the LRC II site, in the same layer as the 'Mask of La Roche-Cotard', at the LRC III site, below a layer of faunal remains apparently gnawed by Hyenas, which in turn was below a layer with the remains of Arctic Lemmings, and Narrow-headed Voles (both Arctic-adapted Rodents), neither of which layers produced any tools. At LRC IV, more Levallois flakes were found associated with the bones of cool temperate large Mammal remains, and overlain by a layer containing the remains of Arctic Lemmings, but no tools.

The Mousterian industries of La Roche-Cotard discovered in 1912. Mousterian of Acheulean Tradition bifaces discovered in 1912. Marquet et al. (2023).

Thus all of the lithic items which can be placed within a stratigraphic context (i.e. everything but the items from the Pillar Chamber, clearly comes from the same deposit, which records a warm period followed by a glaciation, and all of the items belong to the Moustrian technology, which is clearly associated with Neanderthals in Europe. None of these items show any sign of having been transported by water. 

Traceology of the broken biface and of the small blade discovered in 2009. (A) Broken triangular flint biface discovered not deeply in the sediment accumulated in a window of the chert layer. It shows significant rounding of its distal part (1, 2, 3), creating a dull, abrupt edge most probably produced by transverse contact with mineral matter. The other edges of this implement do not display such characteristics. (B) Second stone implement, made on a blade, used to process mineral matter and hide. Three zones of use are identified: the first suggests hide processing (1). The second and third use-areas present features which indicate scraping soft, abrasive, mineral matter (2, 3). Marquet et al. (2023).

A variety of markings are present on the walls of the La Roche-Cotard Cave. Some of these marks are clearly the result of Human activity, but others can be attributed to Animals, such as Bears or Badgers, or chemical processes, such as surface dissolution, disintegration, dehydration, and concretion formation. Markings made by the claws of Animals typically have a characteristic spacing and incision angle, depending on the type of Animal involved, whereas Human markings are much more variable, and include spatially organized elongated marks and patterns of dots unlike anything any Animal will make. Such marks are found on a 13 m-long section of the northeast wall of the Pillar Chamber. The marks are aranged in distinct geometric patterns, which are grouped together to make a series of distinct panels linked by groups of smaller marks. A linear discrimination analysis of the width, incision angle and depth of 116 marks revealed two statistically distinct groups: 32 with features consistent with claw marks, while the remaining 84 appeared to be of Human origin. This was based upon the assumption that Animal claws will make shallow marks with a v-shaped profile, while a finger or finger-shaped tool with make deeper, often u-shaped marks (this was confirmed experimentally on a section of similar tuffaceous limestone intentionally uncovered close to the cave). The Human-made markings were aranged in eight separate panels, apparently reflecting two separate aproches to art-making,, with the six panels being similar, and probably made with fingers, while the two were distinct, and apparently made with a tool, although it was not possible to identify the type of tool used.

Approach used to measure traces. The first four images show the Triangular Panel (TRI), the Rectangular Panel (REC), the bear scratched area (CLA) and finally the Circular Panel (CIR); at the bottom of each picture, the cross-sections made with CloudCompare on the photogrammetries. Four cross-sections were made on the Triangular Panel, T1 to T4 and six on the circular, C1 to C6. Only T1 and C6 are presented below each panel. The cross-sections on the Rectangular Panel have too little relief to allow measurements. The measurements of the width and the angle of incision of the line were carried out using the CloudCompare application and the depth was calculated using a simple mathematical formula: depth equals width over 2 times the tangent (incision angle/2). The same method was used for the scratched space because of the multiple crossings of the traces on the wall. The following five photos show experimental traces made to hypothesise which tool or tools might have been used to make the tracings of the Rectangular Panel. Among the 7 tools that were used for this experiment, only five panels are shown: WOOA traced with an antler point, WOOV with a wood point, FLIN with a flint point, BONE with a bone point and FING with a finger positioned flat. In each image the location of the cross-sections that have been made can be seen; only one is presented below the photo. The iron point tracings were less interesting and the finger positioned on edge was used very little as blood was easily lost when the finger passed over the very aggressive surface of the wall. On these 5 panels, all measurements were made directly on the sections that appear on the sections made. All the scales are in metres. Marquet et al. (2023).

All of the panels are found on a section of wall showing a thin layer of chemically altered material, above a horizontal overhang attributed to the pooling of water (which would have eroded the cave wall at the base). Below the overhang the wall has numerous niches attributed to dissolution, but no signs of any intentional markings. The altered surface has two layers, the outer of which comprises grains of sand and fragments of shell in a clay matrix, while to inner is very similar to the underlying tuffaceous limestone. This coating is missing in many places, having apparently been rubbed off by the actions of Animals or eroded away by dripping water.

Photograph of the north wall of the Pillar Chamber. (1) Coniacian quarzitic sandstone; (2) and (3) Graphic entities; (4) and (5) tuff wall still covered with a light brown film showing local removal of some of the film due to erosion. The six traces (5) are due to a metal tool used by the excavators in 1912; (6) tuff wall with the brown film removed; (7) overhang; (8) small decarbonation recesses; (9) chert layer; (10) yellow Turonian tuff; (11) cavity filled with compact red decarbonation clay; (12) modern sedimentary layer covering the compact layer. Marquet et al. (2023).

The first six panels (panels a-f) appear to have been made with fingers alone, and have an average height 1.5-1.7 m above the presumed level of the floor at the time when they were made. Most of the finger markings are thought to have been made with a finger laid flat, but some seem to have been made with the side of a finger. The seventh panel (panel g) is at a height of 1.8 m, placing it just below the ceiling of the cave; the wall here does not have an altered covering, while the limestone matrix is rich in quartz and fossil fragments. The eighth panel (panel h) is only a metre high, and comprises a series of puncture marks apparently made with a tool.

Spatial organisation of the marked panels in the Pillar Chamber. (A) View of the Pillar Chamber from the entrance, showing the location of panels with markings. Sections and ridges of the ceiling are indicated by red lines. Numbered panels are indicated by blue areas or arrows. The horizontal grey area on the ground is at the altitude (50.05 m Nivellement Général de la France) of the top of the very compact layer 3, in front of the last five digital trace panels. (B) Orthophoto of the north-west and north-east walls of the Pillar Chamber, with the location of the panels with plots. The dashed line represents the probable ground level. (a) Entrance Panel; (b) Fossil Panel; (c) Linear Panel; (d) Undulated Panel; (e) Circular Panel; (f) Triangular Panel; (g) Rectangular Panel; (h) Dotted Panel. Marquet et al. (2023).

The nature of the wall-coating, with a thin, easily-removed layer over a more resilient surface, has a major impact on the form of the finger markings, which are quite different from similar markings made on a clay surface; it would have been easy for the mark-makers to remove the surface layer, exposing the underlying matrix, which would have given the images a smooth appearance when they were made, with the markings having clear, well-defined boundaries, which have since been blurred by the processes of water condensation, drip erosion, and even air circulation.

The closest panel to the entrance, known as the Entrance Panel, or panel a, comprises a set of 36 finger traces made on a flat panel measuring roughly 50 cm by 50 cm. These traces run from top right to bottom left, and are roughly parallel, varying in length from 5 cm to just under 10 cm, and being about 1.5 cm wide. The marks are well defined at the top of the panel, becoming fainter towards the bottom. Some Animal scratches are present on the right part of the panel. The alteration layer is thin on the wall surrounding this panel, possibly due to its position close to the chamber entrance.

Panel a. (panel in entrance of Pillar Chamber). From top to bottom, photograph and survey of the ancient anthropic traces in black and animal traces in blue, numbering of the anthropic traces. The clear traces are in continuous line, when the trace is deep the line is thicker. Traces that are more difficult to read are dashed. Marquet et al. (2023).

The next panel in, known as the Fossil Panel, or panel b, is about 80 cm long, and has a set of eight well defined finger traces above, and 21 fainter finger traces below. All of these traces are aligned obliquely, sloping either to the right or the left. There are also a large number of circular or nearly circular puncture marks, arranged in three groups, 19 on the right, six on the left, and twelve associated with a large Bivalve fossil, Bimorphoceramus turonensis. Another, isolated, elongate finger mark is associated with this fossil. A single Animal mark, made by four claws, is present on this panel. The whole panel appears to have been constructed around the Bivalve fossil.

Panel b. (panel of the fossil). From top to bottom, photograph and survey of ancient anthropic traces in black, animal traces in blue, surface of the fossil section in green, numbering of the traces. The clear traces are in continuous line, when the trace is deep the line is thicker. Traces that are more difficult to read are dashed. Marquet et al. (2023).

The third panel, known as the Linear Panel, or panel c, is 150 cm long and only 50 cm high. The top right side of this panel has a motif of four finger traces descending to the left at 45°, while below and to the left of this an apparent continuation has the same motif but the marks of only three fingers, and below and to the left of that, another continuation also has only three finger-marks. Each of these motifs is about 20 cm in length. At the top, and to the right, of these markings are a group of 13 puncture marks.  On the left hand side of the panel are 34 lines, most of which are horizontal and arranged into groups. The uppermost three of these are about 40 cm in length, the rest 10-15 cm, There are very few puncture marks on this part of the panel, but in the bottom left hand corner are four v-shaped marks.

The Linear Panel. The limits of the finger flutings are shown in black. When the edges are well cut, the line is thicker. When the line is not clearly legible, the line is dashed. Animal tracks are in blue. Marquet et al. (2023).

The next panel is identified as the Undulating Panel, or panel d. This panel is 70 cm long and 50 cm high, and largely covered by 84 linear finger traces, from 10 cm to 33 cm in length. Shorter lines are typically grouped together, and sometimes associated with dots. A few isolated dots can also be found. Three of the longer lines appear to run from left to right, and have a double undulation. Above and to the left of these are two subparallel traces, one of these starts at its highest point, the other is harder to delineate as it appears to widen. Next to these are two groups of finger traces, apparently orientated towards a wavy line. Two further long lines appear to give a boundary to this structure. This panel seems to be more intentionally composed than the earlier panels.

The Undulated Panel. The survey gives the traces numbering. The arrows indicate the direction of the passage of the finger. Marquet et al. (2023).

The next panel is known as the Circular Panel, or panel e, and is 50 cm wide and 60 cm high. It comprises two separate sets of marks, on the left a set of seventeen finger tracings and on the right a set of 31 dots. The lines predominantly run from top to bottom, but curve outwards around a central empty spane, clearly forming a deliberate pattern. A set of outer markings may relate to this, while underneath is another long horizontal line, with two closely associated short vertical lines. This panel is very close to the Undulating Panel, and the two may have been intended to form a single entity.

The Circular Panel. The survey gives the numbering of the traces. The arrows indicate the direction of the traces. The alteration of the central lower part is very strong and worrying. Marquet et al. (2023).

The next panel is known as the Triangular Panel, or panel f, and is 60 cm wide by 50 cm tall. This panel has 25 parallel finger flutings running from top to bottom, and parallel to one another. ranging from 8 cm to 32 cm in length, with the longest at the right side of the panel. The panel forms an inverted isosceles triangle, with its base at the top, and is located above the entrance of a large, regular alcove. The main vertex of this triangle is emphasised by a piece of chert embedded in the wall at its lowest point.

The Triangular Panel. The survey gives the numbering of the traces. The green zone corresponds to the surface of the break of a natural cylinder of chert in its natural place. Marquet et al. (2023).

The seventh panel, known as the Rectangular Panel, or panel g, is 30 cm long and 25 cm high, and covered by 22 elongate traces made with a flat tool or the side of a finger, giving them a v-shaped profile, and seven elongate traces mage with the flat of a finger, giving them a u-shaped profile. All of these traces are between 6 cm and 20 cm in length, and all are verticle and sub-parallel, giving the whole a slight fan-shape.

The Rectangular Panel (panel g). Top, photograph of the Rectangular Panel in oblique light from the right. Bottom, sketch of the survey of the ancient anthropic traces of the panel and numbering. The continuous lines depict finger traces, the long dashed lines depict finger traces that are difficult to recognise. The short dashed lines are the lines of the pointed base of the V-section of most traces that are not made with the flat finger. Dotted lines are the ridge lines between two parallel V-section traces. Marquet et al. (2023).

The final panel, identified as the Dotted Panel, or panel h, and is a metre long and 60 cm high, and has 110 dot-shaped traces, mostly 12-15 mm in diameter, although some are more oval, reaching 20-25 cm in length, or elongated, up to 8 cm. In addition there are a series of oblique lines 3-12 cm in length in the lower part of the panel. There are also a series of marks apparently made with a metal tool, probably during the original excavation of the cave in 1912, as well as a large number of Animal traces; both of these might have destroyed other traces on this panel. 

The Dotted Panel. The survey gives the numbering of the traces. Animal marks are in blue. Traces 13 to 15 and 27 to 35 are modern anthropic traces made with metal tool. Marquet et al. (2023).

The La Roche-Cotard Cave and associated area was once clearly occupied by a group of Humans, who have left lithic artefacts of a Moustrian technology at all sites, within a coeval sedimentary deposit. There are no further signs of Human occupation until the nineteenth century. There are also engravings on the walls of the Pillar Chamber of the cave, which seem likely to have been made by the same people, although there is no direct evidence to support this. 

Marquet et al. set about dating these carvings using optically stimulated luminescence dating, which can reveal the date at which a sample was last exposed to light; this potentially gives the date when an object is buried, but can be reset if an object is subsequently exposed, making it unreliable on its own, but providing a plausible test for radiometric dating results. At La Roche-Cotard it was possible to target sediments inside the cave entrance, in two niches in the cave entrance and around the cave entrance, as well as two complete stratigraphic sequences at sites LRC I-II and LRC IV, in order to try to estimate when the cave was sealed. In addition radiocarbon dating was carried out on nineteen bone fragments collected from all four sites.

Some of the bone samples yielded 'non-finite' radiocarbon dates, which essentially means that they are older than 45 000 years old, and outside the range of carbon dating, while the remainder produced dates clustered around 40 000 years ago; such dates are also regarded with caution, as this is at the limit of the techniques range, where dates are often unreliable; such results are quite often returned for material which is considerably older. Due to this, Marquet et al. did not use these dates in their reconstructed timeline for the habitation of the area, relying entirely on optically stimulated luminescence dating.

The sediments at La Roche-Cotard show signs of having been well-bleached by sunlight before their burial, making them particularly suitable for optically stimulated luminescence dating. The sedimentary unit within which all the tools which could be placed within a sequence (i.e. all the tools except those from the Pillar Chamber) were found was dated to between about 99 000 and about 45 000 years old. Within the cave (LRC I), the tools were covered by a sediment layer which could be dated to between 68 400 and 63 200 years old, while the layer containing the tools at the nearby LRC II is dated to 97 500 years ago, and the layers above this produced dates of 95 600 and 88 500 years before the present. At LRC III, the tools were found within the base of a layer dated to about 65 000 years ago, whilt the LRC IV tools are covered by a layer dated to 79 400 years before the present. 

The sediments of the Loire Valley at La Roche-Cotard include intercalated fluvial deposits and landslip gelifracts, dating from between Marine Isotope Stage 5c (roughly 96 000-87 000 years ago) and Marine Isotope Stage 5a (roughly 82 000-71 000 years ago), which probably represent the alternating stadials (cold periods, when the water would have been low) and interstadials (warm periods, when the water would have been high). Only a small number of stone tools found implies that this site was only intermittently occupied by the toolmakers over this period. This probably reflects the fluctuating climate, and limited amount of workable stone in the area.

The chronology of the La Roche-Cotard Cave (LRC I) over this period is not well understood, but Marquet et al. were able to directly date the layer of river silt which had been deposited within the cave, overlying Moustrian tools. This flooding is calculated to have begun about 70 000 years ago, presumably ending any Human occupation of the cave. The sediment partially blocked the entrance to the cave, leaving an entrance only about 70 cm high (inconvenient, but not impossible for a Human to enter), but did not reach the bottom of the engravings on the cave wall, leaving the possibility that they could have been made after the waters receided, by members of a much later Human population. No tools were found on top of the silt layer, making it unlikely that it was occupied by Humans post-flood, but bones of large Mammals with marks indicating predation by Hyenas were, suggesting that the cave did remain open.

The cave appears to have finally been sealed by a combination of wind-blown sediments and a landslip during the Last Glacial interval. with complete closure achieved by 51 000 years ago. Modern Humans are not known in Western Europe before 45 000 years ago, which means that any engraving left in a cave in Western Europe before 51 000 years ago must have been left their by a Neanderthal artist. 

The artwork is organised onto a set of discrete panels, on the longest wall of the cave complex, excluding the entrance way. The first six of these panels appear to show a form of progression, with the images becoming more complex and organised deeper into the cave, with the complexity of the patterns apparently showing a degree of planning and intent, something which implies a complex thought process. However, the designs are entirely abstract, with no direct figurative images, something La Roche-Cotard has in common with other Neanderthal sites in Europe and the Middle East, and indeed Modern Human sites in Africa. The abstract nature of this art makes it impossible to tell if it has a symbolic meaning, but it does add to a growing body of knowledge about the capabilities of Neanderthals for artistic expression. 

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Assessing the authenticity of Acheulean Porosphaera beads.

The appearance of symbolic thinking is considered to be one of the most important steps in the development of modern Human cognition, giving Humans the ability to pass on information by means of objects rather than direct communication, and thereby helping to build communities bound by common cultural traits rather than simple kinship. Evidence of this, however, is difficult to detect in the archaeological record, leading to intense debates as to when and where such behaviour first appeared.

The first shell beads appear over a hundred thousand years ago in Africa and the near east, at sites such as Skhul Cave in Israel, where beads have been dated to 135-100 000 years before the present, Qafzeh Cave, also in Israel, dated to 100-92 000 years ago, Blombos Cave in South Africa, 100-70 000 years ago, Sibudu Cave in South Africa, older than 70 000 to about 60 000 years ago, Border Cave, again in South Africa, 125-35 000 years ago,  Grotte des Pigeons in Morocco, 80 000 years ago, Bizmoune Cave in Morocco, at least 142 000 years old, Rhafas Cave, also in Morocco, 82 000 years ago, Contrabandiers Cave, once again in Morocco, 120-90 000 years ago, and Oued Djebbana in Algeria, 100-90 000 years ago. All of these sites are associated with early anatomically modern Humans, apparently confirming that beads were an innovation novel to this group. It has been suggested that symbolic thinking appeared in anatomically modern Humans, providing them with a cultural edge that enabled them to replace all other Hominins. However, recent evidence has suggested that some other Hominin species also used symbolism, which would indicate a far earlier origin within the genus Homo. This analysis has largely revolved around the use of personal ornaments, such as beads, pendants, bracelets and diadems, which are taken as evidence of symbolic thought.

One group particularly associated with bead-making are Neanderthals, something which ties into deeper questions about this group's abilities, and relationship to modern Humans. 

Neanderthals were for a long time (and often still are) classified as a separate Hominin species, Homo neanderthalensis, possibly the most advanced Human species other than ourselves, but nevertheless separate and inferior. However, more recent genetic studies have shown that many modern Humans, and probably all non-African Humans, carry some Neanderthal DNA, which challenges this view of separateness. 

This has led to differing views on the taxonomic status of Neanderthals; possibly they were still a separate species, Homo neandethalensis, but only recently diverged and still capable of interbreeding with us (which is tricky, because in biology populations are generally defined as different species when they are incapable of interbreeding). Alternatively, maybe they should be seen as a modern Humans, but belonging to a different subspecies, Homo sapiens neandethalensis (with all living Humans being classified as Homo sapiens sapiens), which acknowledges that they were different from us, but not that different. Finally, maybe they should be seen as completely modern Humans, but belonging to an ethnic group which has disappeared; making them no more different from living Humans than modern Europeans are from modern Africans.

Much of this debate revolves around the cognitive abilities of Neanderthals. As a group, Neanderthals are strongly associated with the Acheulean Palaeolithic technology. This technology first appeared in Africa about 1.76 million years ago (long before the appearance of Neanderthals), and spread across much of Africa and Eurasia, being used by a variety of Hominin groups. Neanderthals first appeared somewhere between 800 000 and 315 000 years ago, and used Acheulen technology throughout almost all of their history, although some later groups appear to have adopted different technologies learned from Modern Human neighbours. Thus, while Neaderthals are strongly associated with the Acheulean technology, particularly in Europe, not all Acheuleans were Neanderthals, and not all Neanderthals were Acheuleans. 

This long use of a single tool-making technology, apparently without any innovation, has been used to suggest that Neanderthals lacked the capacity for abstract imaginative thought; they were capable of copying what they had seen others make, but were quite incapable of coming up with new ideas for themselves. However, despite this apparent lack of innovation in tool-making, Neanderthals are also thought to have been capable of considerable artistic output, with material attributed to their output including pendants made from the claws of Birds of Prey, a bone flute, cave paintings, and numerous beads, some made from shells, but many of them made from fossils of the Cretaceous Sponge, Porosphaera globularis.

In a paper published in the journal Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences on 1 August 2022, Gabriele Luigi Francesco Berruti of the University of Ferrara, and of the Association 'P-Project Prehistory Piedmont', Dario Sigari, also of the University of Ferrara, and of the Geoscience Center of Coimbra University and the Archaeological Cooperative Society, Cristiana Zanasi of the Civic Museum of Modena,  Stefano Bertola and  Allison Ceresa, again of the University of Ferrara, and Marta Arzarello, once again of the University of Ferrara, and the Association 'P-Project Prehistory Piedmont', assess the authenticity of the Porosphaera globularis beads, and assess whether they were genuinely made by our Neanderthal forebears. 

Berruti et al.'s study concentrates on a collection of Porosphaera beads in the collection of the Civic Museums of Modena, which were obtained in 1891 from the French police commissioner and antiquarian  Charles Le Beuf, who collected them from Saint-Acheul in the Somme, the type locality for the Acheulian culture (i.e. the site from which that culture was named, and to which material from other locations is compared when deciding if it can be classified as 'Acheulian'.

Porosphaera beads were collected from Acheulian sites across northwest France and Southern England in the nineteenth century. They are clearly made from fossils of the Cretaceous calcareous Sponge Porosphaera globularis, which was naturally rounded, but have holes bored through them, which nineteenth century archaeologists interpreted as evidence of their use as beads. The problems with this are that the Sponge fossils are found in the same chalk layers that Acheuleans (and later people) excavated for flints from which to make tools (meaning that Acheuleans would have been digging them out whether they subsequently used them or not), and that about 9% of these fossils have 'natural' boreholes in them, made by Cretaceous Sipunculid Worms. 

Thus there could be three possible explanations for the 'beads' found by nineteenth century archaeologists. Firstly, they could be exactly what they were assumed to be; beads made by Acheuleans as personal ornamentation. Secondly, they could be Sponges with boreholes made by Cretaceous Worms, which were then collected and used as beads by the Acheuleans. Finally, it is possible that these Sponges were bored by Cretaceous Worms and overlooked by the Acheuleans, but collected by nineteenth century archaeologists, who had preconceived ideas about what beads looked like which the Acheuleans lacked.

Archaeological sites where Porosphaera globularis beads have been recovered. Berruti et al. (2022).

Whereas a modern site used as the type for an archaeological culture (or palaeontological species) would be recorded very precisely. The Saint Acheul 'site' actually refers to an entire region in the suburbs of Amiens, with several different locations producing material, some of them from several different layers. The earliest of these contains material dated to 670-650 000 years before the present, and marks the earliest spread of the Acheulian culture into northern Europe. Accurate recording of the level from which the Porosphaera beads  were obtained is lacking, but it is thought that they came from the same layers as flint tools recorded from the site.

In 1891 the then director of the Civic Museum of Modena, Carlo Boni, purchased a collection of beads and stone tools from Le Beuf for 400 Francs. The Porosphaera beads were assembled by Boni into four necklaces, three using raffia threads and one using metal wire, with each necklace having between 112 and 156 individual beads. These were then mounted on a cardboard panel for display purposes, using some red ribbon. The beads have remained on this mount to this day, with both the beads and the panel having gained a coating of dust and an organic crust derived from the breakdown of the cardboard.

One of the four Porosphaera globularis necklaces of the Modena collection assembled on the original twentieth-century support. Paolo Terzi in Berruti et al. (2022).

Berruti et al. disassembled Boni's necklaces, in order to obtain a specimen of 520 beads, which were then individually examined. The perforations in these beads were found to be larger than the 'natural' holes caused by Cretaceous Worm-borings, and the beads themselves were, on average more uniform in size and more rounded than a selection of random Porosphaera globularis fossils. This implies strongly that the beads in the Moderna collection have been subjected to Human selection, although whether this was by Acheuleans or nineteenth century archaeologists is unclear.

Next Berruti et al. examined wear traces on the beads, finding that they showed wear around their perforations (as would be caused by a string, whether ancient of modern), and on the surfaces where the perforations were found (i.e. on the surfaces where the beads would rub-together while suspended on a string), but not on other surfaces of the beads. Furthermore, many of the beads had developed a patina, which was not seen on the surfaces adjacent to the holes. All of these have been recorded on Porosphaera beads used in other studies, and taken as evidence of the beads having been worn on a string of some description, and having rubbed against one-another while being worn.

However, Berruti et al. consider that while these traces could have been made by the actions of fashion-conscious Acheuleans, it is also possible that they could have been caused by the actions of nineteenth century antiquarians, either intentionally, to increase the value of their finds, or inadvertently, while mounting the beads onto strings for display purposes.

Since this matter cannot be resolved by looking at wear on the beads caused by them rubbing against one-another on a string, or the friction of the string itself, Berruti et al. consider an alternative source of information, namely to what extent would the beads by modified by rubbing against the skin of their wearers? (Clothing has never been found in association with Acheulean archaeological sites, and these people are therefore assumed not to have worn clothing). If the beads had never been worn by Acheuleans, but rather collected and strung by antiquarians for the first time, then any markings left by such rubbing against skin should be absent.

To this end Berruti et al. obtained five non-perforated specimens of Porosphaera globularis (which, lacking perforations, could never have been worn as beads), and tested these by rubbing them against Pig skin (considered similar enough to Human skin to be used in a variety of trials) for a total of ten minutes each; three of the beads were rubbed against clean skin and two against dirty skin.

All of the beads showed signs of abrasion and rounding after ten minutes, suggesting that they would be unlikely to survive long-term wear as items of jewellery work against the skin. The beads rubbed against dirty skin developed distinctive striations within the ten minutes, a phenomenon absent in the Moderna beads.

(a) Photomicrographs of the specimen K126 from Hannover before and after the experimentation (rubbing for 10 min on dirty pig skin); (b) Photomicrographs of the specimen L844 from Logstor before and after the experimentation (rubbing for 10 min on pig skin); in the lower part of the image, two photomicrographs of the surfaces of two different specimens of the Modena collections. The surfaces of the samples K126 and L844 before the experimentation are similar to the surfaces of the samples from the Museum collection; after the experimentation, the surfaces are strongly smoothed. Berruti et al. (2022).

Close examination of the Moderna beads enabled them to be divided into three groups, based upon their geology. The first of these show signs of having been rolled on the seafloor before being buried, producing a unique set of scratches and markings. The second group have been partially or wholly remineralized after being buried. The third set show no signs of either mechanical abrasion or remineralization. 

Specimens of the Modena collection. Specimens with microstructure very well preserved, the pattern of the cells forming the sponge skeleton is clearly readable (1)–(2); specimens with surfaces showing marked rounding, smoothing and erosion surfaces, caused by their rolling in water environments (3)–(4); specimens with almost uniform surface concretions, mainly yellowish (goethite, limonite) or reddish (haematite), due to the stay of the fossils into soils or karst wells with a clayish matrix rich in iron minerals (5)–(6); specimens with marked dissolution and recrystallization phenomena having an irregular distribution and due to rainwater circulation (vadose meteoric environment) (7)–(8). Indeed, there are clear phenomena of calcite mineralization, macrocrystalline as well, located only on lower fossil surface, the pending one. Berruti et al. (2022).

Berruti et al. looked for signs of intentional modification of the wholes through the beads, from which it might be possible to determine the nature of the tool being used, and therefore whether the person carrying out this action lived in the Palaeolithic or the nineteenth century. Several of the beads show signs of mechanical action around the hole, though it cannot safely be said whether this was a result of drilling by bead-maker, or abrasion by the string. In two cases the hole through the bead was hourglass shaped, which was most likely caused by drilling from each end, but is was not possible to tell what tool was used, not when this action occurred.

Specimens of the Modena collection. Specimens with preserved marl residuals in the through-hole (1)–(4); specimens with two opposite conical holes that converge in the shape of an hourglass towards the centre of the hole (5)–(10). Looking in detail at the through-hole surface, concentric striae can be identified (9)–(10); they affect the internal calcite wall of the sponge and they seemingly confirm the use of a bow drill. Berruti et al. (2022).

In the late nineteenth century the concept of symbolic thought, and its importance as a step in the development of achieving the cognitive abilities of modern Humans, was barely (if at all) understood. Even today, there are those who believe that this is a unique trait in anatomically modern Humans, and that any evidence for this in Europe prior to the arrival of anatomically modern Humans, about 40 000 years ago, must be erroneous. Many scholars in the field, however, support the idea that this, like other traits, must have evolved gradually, and therefore it is not unreasonable to expect to find evidence for some sort of symbolic thought in earlier groups.

The apparent use of personal ornamentation by Neanderthals has been seen as a clear piece of evidence in support of this idea, and the presence of beads in the classical Acheulean deposits as fairly strong evidence of the creative abilities of Neanderthals. However, the Saint Acheul beds are significantly older than any other deposits thought to have yielded material associated with personal ornamentation (made by Neanderthals, anatomically modern Humans, or anybody else), which should automatically raise questions about the reliability of these items.

Based upon this analysis, Berruti et al. conclude that the Acheulean  Porosphaera beads are entirely natural in their origin; possibly with a little bit of help by over-enthusiastic nineteenth century antiquarians, but definitely not produced by early Acheuleans.

Berruti et al. do not, however, extrapolate from this data to assume that all evidence of symbolic thought attributed to Neanderthals are false. There is a considerable body of evidence which suggests that Neandethals were capable of artistic representation, albeit later in their history than the Saint Acheul deposits. Even if this evidence is all erroneous, and our current ideas about Neanderthals are completely wrong, this will only be overturned by looking at the validity of each individual piece of evidence, with no single source of data being able to tell the whole story.

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Determining the ownership of Human, Hominin, and Hominid remains from archeological and palaeontological sites.

All humans can claim a common ancestral link to some Hominin and Hominid remains: this is one of the reasons that each recent discovery of previously unknown remains has generated tremendous levels of interest from both the scientific community and the general public alike. However, at the moment a ‘finders-keepers’ rule is frequently applied, whereby the person who extracts the fossilised remains from the landscape is allowed not only to keep them in a museum or laboratory, but also to ration access to the information that each specimen may reveal. Laws, principles and understandings on when the remains of a deceased person change from being protected to becoming ‘fair game’ for fossil collectors are at best inconsistent between jurisdictions, and at worst non-existent.

In the past decade, new discoveries in anthropology have completely reshaped our ancestral evolutionary tree and scientific understandings of the origin of our species. However, increased understanding from these discoveries is limited by the laws and/or preferences governing access to each new find. The question therefore remains, who owns Humankind?

Hominid fossils hold invaluable information about universal Human history, yet they are most of the time treated as the assumed ‘property’ of another entity. Depending on where the fossil is found, the custodian may be a museum, a government agency, a public or private research institute, or simply the archaeologist or palaeoanthropologist who discovered the fossil. Each may have their own governance protocols and legal frameworks, and may establish their own rules about who gets access to the remains, and the analytical methods available to extract information. On 26–27 April 2007, a workshop was held at the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Leipzig, to answer ‘the question of how to balance preservation of fossil Hominid remains for the future against the application of current scientific analyses’. As a result, ‘the participants produced a set of recommendations that might be useful to museums and other institutions as well as scientists that have to make decisions on requests for invasive sampling of Hominid remains.’ However, albeit providing useful recommendations, the article fails to take into account the existing jurisdictional landscape within which such recommendations are to be articulated. By not engaging with existing regulatory regimes, the article presents a set of desiderata without reference to the baseline from which those desiderata are to be established. As a result, a number of issues arise, all of them relevant to inscribe those recommendations within the tapestry of existing legal provisions.

In a paper published in the journal Heliyon on 6 June 2020, Renaud Joannes-Boyau of the Geoarchaeology and Archaeometry Research Group at Southern Cross University, and the Palaeo-Research Institute at the University of Johannesburg, Alessandro Pelizzon and John Page of the School of Law and Justice at Southern Cross University, Nicole Rice of the Office of the Deputy Vice Chancellor (Research) at Southern Cross University, and Anja Scheffers, also of the Geoarchaeology and Archaeometry Research Group at Southern Cross University, begin to explore the ambiguity between the inconclusiveness of the laws of property, the open-ended nature of what is a ‘fossil’, and the increasingly divergent practices of anthropologists and archaeologists who engage in the discovery of fossilised Human and Human-like remains. Joannes-Boyau et al. contend that the appropriation and management of access to fossils has been subject to uneven, unequitable and unethical controls for far too long. Far from being a self-evident ‘object’ capable of clear ownership, Human, Hominin and Hominid remains are located at contested and poorly regulated cultural and legal intersections.

Unresolved issues relating to the ownership of and access to remains came to a head following the discovery of Homo naledi in the Rising Star cave near Johannesburg, South Africa. The unorthodox ways in which the team of researchers applied excavation and scientific analyses, with a public disclosure of the site and its fossils, before an extended excavation was even conducted, was heavily criticised by colleagues in the discipline. This ‘open access’ policy, not only in respect of the publication but also in respect of the fossils and data collection, was judged by many to breach scientific ethics and protocols, arguing that ‘the discovery matters less than the studies that follow’. In adopting this open-access approach, an important question was raised that challenged orthodoxies of practice: should the discovery of fossil remains and the information disclosed be freely available? This proposition threatened the modus operandi of the archaeology discipline, in particular the assumed status of excavated Human, Hominin or Hominid remains based on assumptions about ‘rules’ of discovery and first possession. The ‘finders keepers’ approach was then rapidly applied and remains subject to a range of studies controlled by those who excavated. The public revelation of the site location and also the fact that only part of the site had been excavated raised questions about the rights of those who may choose to follow to excavate and control other remains which may yet be discovered in the cave, regardless of whether they have any scientific training or not. This case raises a number of issues, which clearly need to be properly addressed.

Fossils are often imprecisely defined, as the term has taken on a broader meaning in recent times. The term comes from Latin fossilis 'dug up', but has been defined by the Oxford Dictionary, as the remains (or impressions) of a Plant or Animal embedded in rock and preserved in petrified form. However, this narrow definition does not encapsulate the way scientists use the word in contemporary literature. For example, eggshells or coprolites, when found in archaeological excavation, are neither the direct remains nor the impression of an Animal, but are nonetheless described as fossils. Similarly, bones that are in the process of fossilisation, but not yet petrified, are frequently classified as fossils by scientists in their studies. Accordingly, Joannes-Boyau et al. propose to broaden the definition of fossils to any preserved evidence of a past organism's biological activity. In doing so, they are including anything that directly survives from the organism's activity, but excluding technological activities and artefacts such as stone tools, cave painting or fire pits. Furthermore, since fossilisation processes can start immediately after the death of an organism, yet may take millions of years to be fully completed, the term ‘fossil’ can refer to remains from very different times. Therefore, the definition cannot be accurately attached to a specific timing, nor a preservation state.

By ignoring the limitations previously described (e.g. fossil definition, access and implication, and human versus non-human remains), Joannes-Boyau et al. are left with generally similar practices, but dissimilar laws. Importantly, this schism between normative practices and the law illustrates a paradox that goes to the heart of ‘owning’ Humankind: archaeological practices surrounding claims to ownership of fossils rarely follow law and legislation. Typically, access to samples continues to be up to the discretion of the ‘owner’, often the archaeologist who discovered the fossil in the first place, and generally irrespective of (and sometimes against) the legislative framework governing the locus of discovery. Such practice induces the ‘gentleman's club’ syndrome, whereby being part of an influential group gives a higher chance of accessing important fossils. It also implies a restricted approach to scientific innovations, since by restricting the work to a similar small pool of scientists, and therefore limiting new ideas, new technological applications and new discoveries are made more slowly. More transparent approaches are already in place in many countries, with attempts to standardize access procedure and impartial decisional committees being made, yet these efforts are yet far from commonplace.

In these contexts, existing laws on the status of fossils are likely to require revision, especially if the definition of a fossil itself is to be revised. Humans and Human remains have a particular status in most of the world's dominant legal systems, when compared to Animals. But once again, the definition of ‘Human’ itself is constantly evolving and still debated amongst scientists, making the law subject to interpretation when it comes to archaeological Human remains. Moreover, in view of the recent DNA discoveries of interbreeding with Homo neanderthalensis and Denisovans, or with the young but archaic species of Homo floresensis being indirectly related to modern Humans, scientists are continuing to struggle in search of consensus. Scientific beliefs in this field frequently have a direct or indirect impact in shaping laws. Not long ago, it is worth noting, several nations even excluded certain ethnic groups from the definition of Humans.

 

Illustration of the ambiguity and complexity between legal, anthropological definitions, and in some extent dogmatic aspects, of distinct organisational units. (ka refers thousands of years and Ma millions of years). (i) Living Human (0~120 years); (ii) Recent Human remains (recently deceased and direct relative up to 6 generations, 0~250 years); (iii) Historical Human remains (historical or ancestral figures, recent - ? years); (iv) Ancient Human remains (Ethnic or cultural remains, recent ~ 50ka); (v) Prehistoric Humans (ancestral species, ~400ka); (*) complexity of the potential Boundary of 'Humanity' (Homo neanderthalensis interbreeding, Homo erectus likely direct ancestor, Homo florensensis side branch not directly related, first early Homo, 40ka ~ 2.5Ma); (vi) Hominin (excludes Homo, but includes taxon such as Australopithecus, Paranthropus, Ardipithecus, 0.8Ma ~ 5Ma); (vii) Hominid (excludes Hominins, but includes other Great Apes and their ancestral lineage, 0 ~ 18Ma); (viii) Other Animals and non-Animal fossils (0 ~ 4Ga); While the first group (i) do not require any additional definition, the second (ii) and third (iii) groups obviously overlap. The main difference between the two groups will come from the legal definition of the degree of separation to which remains can be claimed as direct ancestors. Cluster (iv) includes two particular aspects of the individual, the ethnic group (perceived by the individual or according to DNA) and the cultural ancestry. One individual does not systematically identify himself to the culture traditionally associated with its DNA ethnic group. This introduces complex ramifications for legal status and certain rights depending on the country. To some extent, the same complexity can be seen for cluster (v), where interbreeding between modern Human and Homo neanderthalensis can be seen in the DNA of individuals today. Sensu stricto, the entire Homo genus is regarded as being Human (anthropologically but not legally), while obviously some members have no direct ancestors with modern Humans. To the contrary, some Hominin species (cluster vi) could potentially be directly related to all living Humankind. Nonetheless, for biological reason that will not be discussed here, anthropologists no longer consider Human, the 'Hominins cluster (excluding Homo)' such as Australopithecus or Paranthropus. Joannes-Boyau et al. (2020).

In order to initiate a discussion about current codes of conduct and research practices of fossil remains, and pointing to a new ethical framework, it appears necessary to firstly describe, compare and understand existing legal frameworks. From a legal perspective, the jurisdictions discussed in this paper only engage at a very protean level with the nuanced problems mentioned above, which serves as an invitation for further, and deeper, comparison; further, they reflect the most classic duality of the Western legal tradition: that is, the classic distinction between civil and common law.

Key countries were chosen as introductory examples, based on a number of key considerations, including relevance of fossils found in the country with regards to Human evolution, ease of access to information (e.g. language, availability of expertise), quality of the scientific research and recent discovery, and lastly current events, incidents, or measures in the country relating to ownership of Human remains. The jurisdictions selected by Joannes-Boyau et al. reflect the sites of well-known discoveries of Human and Human-like remains that represent important aspect of the ownership of Humankind, but are, by no means, exhaustive or fully representative of the full palette of legal approaches. The examples will show that while the law purports to provide some degree of clarity, it remains muddied by divergences between key legal traditions.

Australia, the United Kingdom, and Kenya provide a snapshot of the common law's treatment of the human dead. The UK is the doctrinal ‘home’ of common law; a legal tradition exported throughout its empire. As former colonies, Australia and Kenya exemplify how the common law adapts to divergent ‘foreign’ contexts.

All jurisdictions share a starting premise, that there is no ‘property’ in a Human corpse. A corpse cannot own anything and ownership of a corpse is not regulated, only the dissection or removal of tissue from a corpse. However, license for burial and exhumation is regulated. Frequently attributed to jurist Edward Coke in Haynes Case (1614), the apparent simplicity of this core tenet is misleading. The common law's central logic frays as soon as its jurisdiction moves beyond the intact corpse. Thus, Human intervention may ‘excise’ propertied Human tissue (like cryogenically stored semen) provided there is sufficient ingenuity, alteration or modification, Lockean ‘sweat equity’. In a landmark case, the Australian High Court propertised the unborn foetuses of 40 year-old embalmed conjoined twins on the basis of the embalmer's care and skill. Despite its early 20th century vintage, and many unresolved questions, the case remains definitive a century and more later, suggesting an institutional reluctance to confront the vexed boundaries of owning Humanity.

Another boundary marker, that between Humans and ‘non-Human’ Animals, further exposes deep fault-lines in the common law. Non-Humans may be owned, unequivocally if domestic Animals, and contingently if wild. This then leads us to question the extent to which extinct species cross over the imperfect Human/Animal divide, and how differently we would treat Homo neanderthalensis or maybe Homo naledi, compared to species outside the genus Homo. The additional layer would be to consider temporal implications, and explore the difference in how common law treats the Human remains from the modern era in comparison to ancient remains. The Manchester Museum's policy on ‘Human remains’ speaks to such problematic tensions: 'Human remains include the bodies of people who lived thousands of years ago, and of those who have died within recent of living memory. The Museum uses the term ‘Human remains’ to mean the bodies, and parts of bodies of once living people. These are most commonly regarded as being confined to members of the species Homo sapiens. The Museum recognises that some communities feel a local or ancestral connection to other ancestors not classified by scientists as Homo sapiens.'

Into this jurisprudential uncertainty, legislation sometimes offers certainty, albeit in an ad hoc way. In the UK, the Human Tissue Act 2004 regulates the removal, use and storage of Human tissue for listed activities that include research and public display. It draws an arbitrary line in the temporal sand, exempting human remains older than 100 years from the Act's operation. However, consent obligations, or lack thereof, do not equate to ownership. This was reinforced when a 2008 re-interpretation of the Burial Act 1857 required reburial of ‘all Human remains archeologically excavated in England and Wales… after a two-year period of scientific analysis’. Human remains persist in a ‘peculiar legal limbo in that they cannot be technically owned’, a stasus quo that is ‘complex, uncertain and obscure’.

In Kenya, the National Museums Act and Antiquities Monuments Act likewise draw a temporal line in the sand, deeming as arbitrary the cutoff date for regulatory control. Under these Acts, it is illegal to remove or trade in fossilised Human remains that pre-date 1895. In cases of illegal sales, the National Museum of Kenya is authorised to compulsorily acquire remains. Importantly, the Acts vest ownership of pre-1895 Human remains in the State, with the complexities of common law property reserved for post-1895 remains.

In Australia, unlike Kenya, key statutes leave ownership questions to the uncertain common law. The Protection of Movable Cultural Heritage Act 1986 (Commonwealth of Australia), prohibits the export of ‘Class A’ cultural heritage, which includes ‘Human remains’. Australia also has a national repatriation program for Indigenous cultural patrimony that seeks to restore ‘stolen’ Human remains to affected communities. But like the UK, state-based legislation that regulates scientific use of Human tissue (for example the Human Tissue Act 1983 (NSW)), does not require consent for Human samples pre-dating 2003.

Civil Law jurisdictions lack the cohesiveness displayed by these Common Law examples, particularly due to the absence of shared precedents as a source of legal authority.

In Italy, for example, Human remains cannot be object of rights, as they are not considered goods pursuant to Article 810 of the Italian Civil Code. Human remains are not considered a ‘thing’, but rather a prolongation of the deceased person. Similarly, in France a person cannot be considered an object of rights, with Articles 16–19 of the Code Civil identifying the inviolability of the Human body, in its entirety as well as in its parts, including, in this case, for commercial purposes. However, with the donor's consent, body parts can be collected for medical or scientific purposes, pursuant to Article L1211-2 of the Code de la sante’ publique. In addition, the criminal punishment, pursuant to the Code Penal, can be imposed for interference with a cadaver located on French soil. Spain, in contrast, has articulated a highly precise definition of what constitutes a ‘Human cadaver’ and how it should be treated. China, albeit not a country usually grouped under the civil law tradition, displays many traits typical of civil law systems, and under Article 3 of the Supreme People's Court's Interpretation on Several Issues on the Decision on the Civil Liabilities for the Infringement of Moral Damages (Adopted at the 1161th Meeting of the Judicial Committee of the Supreme People's Court on 26 February 2001, promulgated by on 8 March 2001, and effective as of 10 March 2001), the People's Court authorises a deceased's near relatives with regard to the compensation of moral damages caused by illegal use or damage of Human remains, or infringement of Human remains in the way of violation of public interests.

However, in each of these cases, there does not appear to exist any special regulation governing the ownership of ‘fossilised Human remains’. In Italy, Hominin and Hominid remains are not considered ‘Human remains’ per se, but rather archaeological goods, and the state claims sole guardianship if they have archaeological or natural value. Similarly, in China, fossils of palaeovertebrates and palaeoanthropoids of scientific value are protected by the State and private individuals and organisations are allowed to own and exchange cultural relics in certain, highly regulated cases (Article 50).

Both domestic and international law protects the right of access to fossilised remains by specific cultural groups, in particular providing Indigenous peoples with rights to repatriate remains when cultural relationships are proven. Moreover, a number of issues become apparent as a result of this very protean foray into different jurisdictional regulatory frameworks concerning Human, Hominin and Hominid remains. Firstly, and more clearly in relation to Human remains, questions arise in relation to the belief systems and related regulatory practices in practice at the time of burial. An ethical paradigm now exists, leaving many to contemplate if such practices be simply ignored, and thus, as a consequence, if contemporary practices should be conducted with the caveat that they can be legitimately ignored by future generations. Secondly, Human remains, particularly ancient ones, represent a unique window into our species as they constitute an irreplaceable source of direct information on our ancestors that no object can substitute. However, as Laure Cadot suggests, ‘although the scientific value of Human remains is evident to museums, it's not possible to forget the symbolic value that they embody for others, in particular for those communities to which they can be connected’. Depending on the context, Human remains can be simultaneously considered, as Cadot says, Human remains, scientific objects with possible patrimonial value, and ‘cultural subjects’. This legal tension is underpinned by an even deeper ontological tension: between scientific beliefs on the one hand and diverse spiritual beliefs on the other, with rather contrasting interests. This tension becomes apparent in the context of repatriation of Human remains to Indigenous communities, such as in the United States and Australia. Since, according to legal regimes, the dead have no agency, it is those with closest ties that have a say in their remains. Finally, the boundaries of the ‘Human’ are far from being uncontroversial and uncontested. For this reason, existing legal regimes, located in multiple jurisdictions and related to access to Human, Hominid, Hominin and all other remains (fossilised or not) need to be further investigated and coordinated.

In conclusion, the identification and possession of a fossil is a challenging, complex and culturally-inscribed event. The variability of definitions of the term ‘fossil’ and scientific interest in remains from multiple eras mean that it is important to define ‘fossil’ to mean any preserved evidence of a past organism's biological activity. Given that fossilisation processes can start immediately after death of an organism, it is necessary to develop clear and consistent legislation to identify the point at which a deceased individual can be exhumed and studied for scientific purposes.

In addition, analysis of legislation across multiple jurisdictions indicates there are rarely special regulations governing the ownership of ‘fossilised Human remains’. In some countries, such as Italy, Hominin and Hominid remains are not considered Human remains, but are considered archaeological goods which are under sole guardianship of the State if they have special value.

Finally, there is a clear tension between the potential knowledge that science can yield through analysis of fossilised remains and the rights of individuals and their descendants to ceremonies and burial that align with local belief systems.

Therefore, since ownership and control of Human, Hominid and Hominin remains is often poorly regulated and varies greatly between jurisdictions, decisions to make discovery locations public and to regulate access to recent discoveries of remains have highlighted the importance of developing common standards for ownership, protection and access controls in relation to remains.

In the field, archaeologists frequently resort to notions of first possession, using raw access to the fossilised resource, and the information fossils yield, as the default normative benchmark to determine questions of ‘owning’ Humankind. Where the party granting access is ‘generous’, the need for transparency and certainty is less dire. But where the access-giver adopts arbitrary, unpredictable practices, access outcomes are far from desirable. Clearly, property law is uncomfortable in dealing with the deceased Human, irrespective of its vintage. This institutional discomfort implies an urgency to rethink the approach towards information availability.

The establishment of a large workshop with key stakeholders, including scientists, lawyers and policy makers would benefit greatly the discipline. Only then, will it be possible to embark upon a dialogue to collectively decide the most appropriate practice of access to fossilised Human remains.

See also...

Online courses in Palaeontology. 

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