Tag Archives: Göbekli Tepe

The Past on Tap: Ancient Beer in Celtic Europe

Last week I attended a lecture at the Toledo Museum of Art. The event was organized and hosted by the Toledo Society of the Archaeological Institute of America. The title of the lecture was “The Past on Tap: Archaeological Evidence for Ancient Alcohol in Iron Age Celtic Europe”, and delivered by Dr Bettina Arnold, Professor of Anthropology at University of Wisconsin Milwaukee.

Dr. Arnold’s lecture focused on presenting archaeologial evidence and analytical advances used in investigating feasting practices and brewing of malt and honey-based beverages during the period 1200 BC and 600 BC in Celtic Europe. The Celts were a collection of tribes who were unified by a shared culture and language. They originated in central and Western Europe, particularly central and eastern France, southern Germany and the Czech Republic. Subsequent migrations saw them extend their geographical footprint to include the British Isles, the Iberian Peninsula, and northern Italy. Despite their dispersed geography and reputation of being fierce warriors, it is worth noting that the Celts never established an empire (as the Romans did).

In her work as an archaeologist. Dr. Bettina has excavated Celtic burial mounds in southwest Germany. Among other items, Bettina discovered vessels that had been used to hold alcohol. Archaeologists use a variety of analytical techniques in their research, including organic residue analysis (ORA). ORA involves the investigation of organic residues that are trapped in, or adhered to, ancient artifacts. In seeking to understand what ancient peoples drank, the artifacts of interest are vessels that were used to store or consume alcohol. In addition to ORA, Professor Arnold also uses what she calls mortuary consumption evidence. Mortuary consumption evidence refers to the artifacts (e.g., drinking vessels) that are buried or entombed with a corpse. These often provide an indication of the status that the individual held within the society within which they lived.

The research of Professor Arnold and other scholars showed that the Celts made both beer and mead. The ancient beer would have been made with either wheat, barley, and millet. The items discovered by Bettina include a fully intact cauldron used for serving alcoholic beverages. Previous excavations by other archaeologists at a nearby site yielded nine drinking horns, one of which could hold nine pints of ancient ale. At feasts, beer and wine would have been brought to diners in flagons, where it was decanted into drinking horns, which were made of natural horn and often decorated with gold foil bands. The anthropologist Michael Dietler has called the Celts “prodigious drinkers” and “reckless inebriates”, while the Greek historian Diodorus Siculus referred to their “furious passion for drinking”. Their is no doubt that the Celts like to feast and drink, a practice that they hoped to continue in the afterlife, witness the drinking horns and a large bronze cauldron (used to hold mead) found at the grave of a Celtic chieftain’s burial site near Hochdorf in Germany. As Dr Arnold has stated, “the Celts believed in a type of BYOB afterlife. You had to bring alcohol with you and throw a big party when you got to the other side. A sign of a good leader was generosity.” The purpose of feasting and drinking was not just hedonistic pleasure. It had what one might call a political purpose, being a mechanism to strengthen ties with allies. The Celts that Professor Arnold has researched also drank wine, but this was not produced locally, being imported from the Mediterranean region.

A Celtic drinking horn from Tuttlingen in southwestern Germany. Tuttlingen was established as a Celtic settlement (Source: Wolfgang Sauber)

Research by Maxime Rageot and colleagues, published in the online academic journal PLoS ONE, suggests that beer consumption may have been socially stratified with elites drinking beer made from barley or wheat, with warriors consuming beer made with millet. The reasons for these differences are not, unfortunately, reported.

In a 2018 paper in The Journal of Medieval Monastic Studies, Max Nelson suggests that Celtic brewing traditions influenced monastic brewing that became common in parts of Western Europe during the Middle Ages. Written evidence suggests that, during the 9th century, European monasteries introduced hops as an ingredient in the brewing of beer during the 9th century. Nelson, however, cites archaeological evidence which suggests that this may not be the case, and that hops were being used by Celts in northern Italy in 6th century B.C. While hops functioned as preservatives (important in the days before pasteurization or refrigeration) Nelson (p. 59) notes that “besides its preservative function, the bitterness of hops could help balance out the taste of an ancient beer, which might otherwise have been overly sweet from malt, sour from bacterial contamination, or smoky from fire-brewing”. The Greek historian, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, called Celtic beer “a foul smelling liquor made from barley rotted in water”. Based on archaeological evidence found at early Iron Age settlement of Eberdingen– Hochdorf in Germany, Hans-Pete Sitka of the University of Honenheim suggests that this particular Celtic beer was“probably a dark, smoky, and slightly sour. A caramelised taste would have decreased the sourness. Floating yeast sometimes produces a light lemon taste. If flavouring agents such as mugwort and carrot seeds were added, this beverage would have had a very different taste from our typical modern beer.”

Towards the end of her lecture, Professor Arnold described attempts by a number of contemporary craft breweries to recreate ancient Celtic beer. This included Lakefront Brewery in Milwaukee, WI who worked with Arnold, to create ”a recipe inspired by evidence collected from the archaeological remains.” Based on organic residue analysis, the beer they tried to recreate, in addition to yeast, contained four ingredients – barley, honey, mint and meadowsweet. In terms of taste, the final product has been described as “smooth and pleasant — almost like a dry port, but with a minty, herbal tinge to it.” While Lakefront’s Chris Ranson described the ancient Celtic beer as “drinkable”, she doubted that there would be a sizable market for it among modern-day craft beer drinkers.

The Celtic people were not the only ancient society to brew beer. Nor were they the first. For example, around 10,000 BC, various hunter gatherer groups would periodically come together at Göbekli Tepe, a Neolithic archaeological site (home to the world’s oldest known megaliths) in eastern Turkey for the purposes of ritualistic feasting. Brewing vats and images of festivals have been discovered there by archaeologists, with the beer being made from fermented wild crops. In similar fashion, at Qiaotou in Zhejiang Province in China, archaeologists have discovered vessels containing residues of ingredients used to brew beer. The beer, according to the authors, was “likely served in rituals to commemorate the burial of the dead.” The Qiaotou site dates to around 7,000 BC.

Ancient beer may not have tasted much like the beer that we drink today. But it did serve a similar purpose in the sense that it brought people together and provided a mechanism through which people could relax and bond, much like it does today.

Further Reading:

In addition to the readings below you can learn more about the Celts by visiting the website of the Center for Celtic Studies at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Dr. Arnold is also the founding editor of the electronic journal e-Keltoi: Journal of Interdisciplinary Celtic Studies.

Dietler, Michael. 1994. Quenching Celtic thirst. Archaeology, Volume 47, Issue 3, pp. 44-48.

Nelson, Max. 2018. Celtic and Egyptian beer-production traditions and the origins of monastic brewing. Journal of Medieval Monastic Studies, Volume 7, pp. 47-77.

Rageot, Maxime, Angela Mötsch,  Birgit Schorer,  David Bardel,  Alexandra Winkler,  Federica Sacchetti,  Bruno Chaume, Phillips Della Casa, Stephen Buckley, Sara Cafisdo, Janine Fries-Knoblach, Dirk Krause’s, Thomas Hope, Philipp Stockhsmmer, Cynthiaanne Spiteri. 2019. New insights into Early Celtic consumption practices: Organic analyses of local and imported pottery from Vix-Mont Lassois. PLoS ONE, Volume 14, Issue 6.

Sitka, Hans-Peter. 2011. Early Iron Age and Late Mediaeval malt finds
from Germany—attempts at reconstruction of early Celtic brewing and the taste of Celtic beer
. Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences, Volume 3, Issue 1, pp. 41-48.

Dietrich, Oliver Dietrich, Manfred Heun, Jens Notroff, Klaus Schmidt, and Martin Zarnkow. 2012. The role of cult and feasting in the emergence of Neolithic communities. New evidence from Göbekli Tepe, south-eastern Turkey. Antiquity, Volume 86, Issue 333, pp. 674–695.

Wang, Jiajing, Leping Jiang, and Hanlong Sun. 2021. Early evidence for beer drinking in a 9000-year-old platform mound in southern ChinaPLOS ONE, Volume 16, Issue 8.

Drunk

Drunk is both an adjective and a noun. The Merriam-Webster online dictionary defines the former as “having the faculties impaired by alcohol”, and the latter as “one who is drunk”. Drunk is also the name of a book written by Edward Slingerland. The full title is “Drunk: How We Sipped, Danced, and Stumbled Our Way to Civilization”. It is a fascinating book and one I have just finished reading. The author, Slingerland, is Distinguished University Scholar and Professor of Philosophy at the University of British Columbia in Canada. While Slingerland is an academic, Drunk is a book that is written for a general audience.

The front cover of “Drunk” by Edward Slingerland

The basic thesis underpinning Slingerland’s treatise is that alcohol has played, and continues to play, an important role in society; a role that is generally beneficial both to the individual and to society as a collective entity. A key characteristic of alcohol is that it triggers the release of endorphins whose effects include enhancing a person’s overall mood, while decreasing anxiety and stress levels. In our transformed, more relaxed state, alcohol helps us “with the communal demands of being human” (p. 106).

Central to Slingerland’s thesis is that part of the human brain called the prefrontal cortex (PFC), which “plays a role in regulating emotions in interpersonal relationships and social situations.” Alcohol, however, temporarily disarms the PFC, the locus of rational thinking and self-control, and make us more playful, creative, emotional, and trusting. As a result, consumption of alcohol facilities social bonding among people who may not otherwise be pre-disposed to bond and work cooperatively. As noted by Slingerland, alcohol “functions to bind together non-related individuals” (p. 257) Indeed it has fulfilled this role for thousands of years.

One of the many examples given by Slingerland is Göbekli Tepe, a Neolithic archaeological site (home to the world’s oldest known megaliths) in eastern Turkey where disparate and otherwise unconnected groups of hunter-gatherers periodically met for the purposes of ritualistic feasting. Brewing vats and images of festivals dating to around 10,000 BC have been discovered at Göbekli Tepe.
The ancient beer that was brewed played a central role in the feasting that took place there. According to the Archaeologist Oliver Dietrich and his colleagues “at the dawn of the Neolithic, hunter-gatherers congregating at Göbekli Tepe created social and ideological cohesion through the carving of decorated pillars, dancing, feasting—and, almost certainly, the drinking of beer made from fermented wild crops.” This pattern of feasting and consuming alcohol was replicated in many ancient pre-agricultural societies throughout the world.

Göbekli Tepe in eastern Turkey, an ancient site of feasting and drinking of beer made from fermented wild crops

Slingerland provides numerous more contemporary examples of the benefits of moderate alcohol consumption. He talks about visiting the Whiskey Room on a Google campus where coders retire with colleagues to have a wee dram and engage in creative back-and-forth of ideas. He also tells of getting together with his graduate students and faculty members, post-seminar, in a pub on the UBC campus. Much of the conversation revolved around research ideas, with the end result being the establishment of a new research center, a multi-million dollar grant, and a slew of high impact research projects.

It should be noted that in addition to the real-world examples of the benefits of moderate alcohol consumption, Slingerland does cite and discuss many laboratory-based scientific studies which provide support for his central thesis. With respect to maximizing creativity, how much alcohol is beneficial? That particular sweet spot is a blood alcohol content of 0.08, or the equivalent of two beers with an an ABV of around 5%.

Slingerland is an advocate of social drinking. Indeed, in his final chapter he warns against the dangers of drinking alone. He cites the work of Robin Dunbar, an evolutionary psychologist. In 2017, Dunbar co-authored a paper in which he explored the functional benefits of moderate alcohol consumption. In particular, he found that people who have a pub they they frequent on a regular basis “tend to be more socially engaged, feel more contented and are more likely to trust other members of their community than those who do not drink at all”. Visiting the same pub on a regular basis often results in engaging in social drinking with other regular customers, thus providing patrons with a strong social network. Summing up Dunbar’s findings, “moderate, social drinking brings people together, keeps them connected to their communities, and lubricates the exchange of information and building of networks (p. 192).

Slingerland also touches on a topic that is close to my heart as a professional academic – the value of attending an academic conference, as opposed to participating via Zoom or a similar communication platform. As he so eloquently states, “a unique intellectual benefit provided by in-person academic or professional conferences is the networking, brainstorming, and idea-honing that goes on over meals, over coffee breaks, and most of all informal venues, as the day draws to an end and the intoxicants come out” (p. 180). Indeed it was at an academic conference in New York City in 2012 that a conversation, over a beer, with a colleague from Kennesaw State University was the catalyst for my first paper on the craft beer industry; thus The Beer Professor was born. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, many scientific organizations offer hybrid conferences, whereby participants can choose to participate in-person or virtually. Sadly, those who choose the latter option miss out on the added value that in-person attendance bestows. As Slingerland observes, “even the best videoconference is a poor substitute for the visceral buzz of interpersonal chemistry, catalyzed by chemical intoxicants, that comes from in-person socializing in pubs and cafes” (p. 181).

While Slingerland’s book outlines the benefits of drinking alcohol, it is important to note that he warns against its excessive consumption. Indeed, his final chapter is devoted to the dark side of consuming alcohol, with a discussion of topics such as the negative health consequences, drunk driving, and the role of alcohol in contributing to violence against women. He also discusses the discovery of distillation, by which humans were able to produce spirits whose Alcohol By Volume levels are significantly higher than that of either beer or wine. According to Slingerland, “the many functional benefits of alcohol notwithstanding, distillation radically increases its danger to both individuals and society” (p. 237). During the Industrial Revolution in Europe, beers such as Guinness were considered a temperance drink, while high potency distilled spirits were not. As noted by Mark Schrad , writing in Foreign Policy, the growing availability of distilled spirits in early 19th century Europe meant that “once jovial communal celebrations devolved into drunken riots“, while “murder, other crimes, and arson all increased”. This became a concern for European Socialists who saw the devastating effects of spirits on the working class, while lining the pockets of profit-minded and predatory capitalists. In Germany, the Social Democratic Party called for a nationwide boycott of schnapps but not beer. Emile Vandervelde, leader of the Belgian Labour Party and President of the Second International (a collaborative network of European socialist parties) held the position that there’s “no real difference between the moderate use of fermented beer or wine and the complete abstinence from alcohol.” Spirits, not beer and wine, were the real problem.

Slingerland’s book is a lively read. It is well written and follows a logical flow. Anyone interested in the history of alcohol and its role in societies, ranging from ancient to modern, will find it a worthwhile purchase.

Further Reading:

Dietrich, Oliver Dietrich, Manfred Heun, Jens Notroff, Klaus Schmidt, and Martin Zarnkow. 2012. The role of cult and feasting in the emergence of Neolithic communities. New evidence from Göbekli Tepe, south-eastern Turkey. Antiquity, Volume 86, Issue Number 333, Pages 674–695.

Dunbar, Robin I. M., Jacques Launay, Rafael Wlodarski, Cole Robertson, Eiluned Pearce, James Carney, and Pádraig MacCarron. 2016. Functional Benefits of (Modest) Alcohol Consumption. Adaptive Human Behavior and Physiology, Volume 3, Pages 118–133.

Schrad, Mark Lawrence. 2021. How Europe’s Temperance Movement Saved Beer. Foreign Policy, September 26.

Slingerland, Edward. 2021. Drunk: How We Sipped, Danced, and Stumbled Our Way to Civilization. Little, Brown Spark Publishers.