43
into broad tradition regions. Håkan Rydving
(1993: 23) proposes
four such regions, but had
left aside the religion formations on the Kola
Peninsula owing to the lack of early written
sources. I include this
as a fifth region on Map
4. Rydving’s original terms
11
have been adapted
to accord with names of the Proto-Sámi dialect
regions above. I follow Rydving in addressing
the regions through language areas, and in
leaving undetermined the region(s) into which
Inari and Akkala Sámi group. With these
refinements, the religion regions are:
Southwest – South Sámi
Central-
West – Ume, Pite and Lule Sámi
Northwest – North Sámi
Northeast – Skolt, Kildin and Ter Sámi
Upper Central or
Northeast? – Kemi Sámi
Describing the groupings by language is a
pragmatic matter of easy reference. One Sámi
language could be spoken across communities
with quite different livelihoods and cultural
features (Saarikivi & Lavento 2012: 200).
Regions of tradition are structured and evolve
in relation to a number of factors rather than
necessarily being in a one-to-one correlation
with language (see also Pentikäinen 1973:
139–145). For example, Rydving (1993:
22n.84) points out that the coastal North Sámi
designation of the thunder god aligns speakers
with the northeast Sámi religion region.
Rydving’s decision to separate Kemi Sámi from
Sámi on the Kola Peninsula is one of method-
logical caution owing to the lack of data on the
Sámi cultures of Finland and Karelia. Kemi
may have belonged to the tradition area of that
part of Karelia and adjacent Finland, as distinct
from those farther north (cf. Manker 1938), but
there is not enough evidence to determine this
one way or the other.
A crucial difference between this division
and Aikio’s model in Map 2 is the central west
group, which forms a zone between the centers
of what would have been the southwest and
northwest Proto-Sámi dialects. If southwest
and northwest dialects spread independently
onto the Scandinavian Peninsula from the east
and north, respectively, they would presumably
have evolved to at least some degree before
coming into contact. In this case, the central-
west religion region would have been a zone of
their long-term interaction. There, they could
have developed hybridized intermediate
language forms much as the Livvi language (or
dialect) emerged from the interaction of
Karelian and Vepsian (i.e. related North Finnic
language forms). Rydving’s geographical
division is developed according to written
sources, yet it “seems to be supported by the
geographical distribution of drum types”
(1993: 23; see also Manker 1938: 82–108).
The rapid spread of Proto-Sámi extends
across a huge geographical area inhabited by
multiple cultures. The indigenous languages of
those areas were eclipsed. This process does
not seem to have been linked to mass migration
and population displacement. Consequently, in
the wake of the geographical spread of Proto-
Sámi
and
its
dialectal
differentiation,
presumably the vast majority of populations
across these regions did not originally speak
Proto-Sámi as a domestic language. The
language’s spread thus seems most likely
linked to communication. When considering
the rapidity and geographical scope of the
language’s spread, it becomes reasonable to
question whether elements of religion were
carried with Proto-Sámi from Finland at all.
Of course, even spread predominantly as a
medium of communication could not occur
without mobility of speakers. It would also entail
at least some degree of additional cultural
transfer. Part of this could be at the level of
symbols and cognitive metaphors encoded in
the language, but
communication and
networking across different groups would itself
have led to a “congruence of codes and values”
(Barth 1998 [1969]: 16), at
least in those areas
of practice linked to such communication and
networking (Ahola et al. 2014b: 242). Once a
common language was established, boundaries
would open that might otherwise more greatly
inhibit the spread of new practices across
different groups. Language shifts could act
historically as a catalyst for convergence,
supporting forms of shared identity among
networks of speech communities in evolving
regions of dialects. It is also reasonable to
consider which identities were inclined to
converge. When Proto-Sámi speakers were
arriving from Finland and Karelia onto the
Kola and Scandinavian Peninsulas, whatever
they were doing or however they were perceived
inclined others to learn their language. Would
their religious identity have been equally
44
interesting (or would it even have direct
continuity from the speech community in which
Proto-Sámi emerged, spreading first through
Finland and Karelia)? Or might local cultures
first begin using the language, and, during
language shifts, develop shared linguistic
identities that could facilitate convergence of
religious identities with one another?
When considering what transpired in this
process, it is noteworthy that Proto-Sámi
language spread does not clearly correlate with
changes in the archaeological record. In the
archaeology of Finland, this problem is
ambiguous because Proto-Sámi spread during
a period when the evidence of mobile groups
has largely disappeared (e.g. Kuusela 2014;
see also Aikio 2012). On the Scandinavian
Peninsula
and through Lapland,
there is a long
tradition of identifying Sámi language and
ethnic culture with evidence of cultures in the
material record, tracing their long-term
continuities. Internal linguistic evidence
presented above indicates a
terminus post
quem of ca. AD 200 for Proto-Sámi language
presence in these regions. Several of these
continuities of practices in the archaeological
record can be traced back earlier (see e.g.
Zachrisson et al. 1997: 195–200), and the so-
called scree graves (
urgraver) by as much as a
millennium (Svestad 2011: 43 and works there
cited). Such continuities in practices need to be
viewed as continuities through the process of
Proto-Sámi language spread.
It was once common to correlate historical
language spread with evidence of mobile
goods in the archaeological record like pottery-
types, which is now recognized as highly
problematic (Saarikivi & Lavento 2012).
Although not specifically tied to language,
Kristian Kristiansen has
formulated a complex
‘axiom’, at the core of which is the claim that:
because a burial is the institutionalised
occasion for the transmission of property and
power, and the renewal of social and economic
ties [... a] radical change in burial rites [...]
signals a similar change in beliefs and
institutions. (Kristiansen et al. 2017: 336.
12
)
This axiom situates burial rituals exclusively in
relation to empirical societies of the living. In
the present context, it is also relevant that
funerary rituals are direct engagements with
conceptions of the unseen world, its dynamic
forces, agents
and societies, as well as ideas of
how it is accessed from
the world of the living
and of possibilities for interaction with it. The
ritual(s) of a single funeral may involve several
such types of interaction through engagements
with the embodied deceased member of the
community and the establishment of that
individual in an appropriate location and
situation in the unseen world. The funeral also
establishes foundations for the maintenance of
relationships between the living community
and the deceased and/or a community of
ancestors and perhaps additional otherworld
agents. Funerals are thus a socially central
context for engagement with mythology and
religious practices.
Of course, Kristiansen’s axiom cannot be
reversed to claim that lack of change in burial
rites signals a lack of religious change.
Continuities in practices does not necessarily
indicate that Sámi spread independent of a
complex religious system and broader culture
which might be linked to local rituals. Religious
appropriations and reinterpretations were not
only made by Romans and Christians:
Scandinavian settlers in the Viking Age could
strategically assimilate the practices of a local
burial ground where they settled (e.g. Artelius
& Lundqvist 2005). However, there is no
reason to presume such appropriation. The
simplest explanation of continuities in complex
practices related to burial and so forth is that
Proto-Sámi’s spread was not significant for
local religions. The lack of positive archaeo-
logical evidence for the spread of religious
change corollary with the probable period of
Proto-Sámi’s spread must be kept in mind.
On the other hand, continuities in the
archaeological record that seem to correlate
with Proto-Sámi dialect and tradition regions
suggest language spread became coordinated
with existing regional networks (presumably
not geographically fixed). Interaction within
those networks would incline groups towards
convergence in registers of social behaviour
and
communication
as
well
as
in
intersubjective frames of reference. Later
archaeological evidence of significant changes
in settlement sites beginning from ca. 700 AD
are an indicator of significant changes in
societies spreading through regions of Lapland
(Halinen 2016). These changes reflect the