Medical Anthropology, Archaeology and Herbalism: What I wish I’d Known Starting Out

Or perhaps, what I wish I could tell my younger self.

This is long overdue. Over the years, I’ve been asked many versions of the same question. Pre-med and nursing students ask how herbalism can fit alongside allopathic patient care. Herbalists ask how I found my way into this work. Archaeologists and anthropologists ask what plants indigenous people use and for what. Having spent my career across these disciplines, I’ve realized they’re all asking the same thing: How do we understand herbal medicine or herbal care in context?

My path has been somewhat unusual. I trained as a medical anthropologist, spent nearly twenty years working in archaeology, teach public health and health sciences at the university level, and practice as a clinical herbalist. Each field asks different questions, but together they have fundamentally shaped how I think about health, medicine, and people’s relationships with plants.

When I began my first research project in 2007 to document the medical practices of Indigenous and Colonial people of southern New England, I approached it much too simply. I searched historical books, manuscripts, ethnographies, and archaeological reports looking for neat answers: this herb was used for this disease. How limiting!

That approach reflects a modern, reductionist way of thinking rather than how herbal real-world care has historically been practiced. Plants were—and continue to be—part of larger systems of knowledge that include food, ceremony, community, observation, environment, and individual experience.

That said: this article isn’t meant to be a step-by-step reference guide. Instead, it’s a collection of perspectives to help those starting out. Whether you’re a student, an herbalist, an archaeologist, or simply curious about traditional medicine, I hope these reflections give you a useful place to begin.

Traditional-Herbal Care

Good health has rarely depended on medicine alone. Across cultures and throughout history, health has been shaped by overall access to resources, a nourishing diet, meaningful work (finding purpose and drive), movement, social relationships, and even spiritual support. Medicine exists within this larger web. Like the societies that create it, healthcare systems are never static—they evolve to meet the changing needs, environments, and values of the people they serve.

For thousands of years, Indigenous communities around the world have developed sophisticated systems of traditional medicine through careful observation of the natural world. Knowledge was cultivated by watching animal behavior, through generations of trial and observation, and by passing practical experience from one generation to the next. In many Indigenous cultures, this knowledge was preserved primarily through oral tradition. Perhaps to strengthen mentor and apprentice relationships, safeguard knowledge, and keep the practitioner sharp in mind?

Plants were not simply used to suppress symptoms. Traditional herbal care often sought to restore balance within the individual and the community, addressing not only physical discomfort but also emotional, social, and spiritual well-being. Herbal preparations may be created to address a culmination of concerns, like easing pain, supporting digestion, calming the nervous system, facilitating ceremony, strengthening resilience during hardship, or helping individuals process grief, trauma, or major life transitions.

Here in New England, much of the regional herbal materia medica practiced reflects generations of knowledge cultivated by Native peoples. Plants such as echinacea, sarsaparilla (best known today as the original flavoring of root beer), witch hazel, tobacco, pine, and numerous other native species entered into colonial medicine by way of acquired Indigenous knowledge, although often plants were adopted and used in ways that differed from their original cultural context.

Looking back through the archaeological and historical record, however, interpreting traditional herbal medicine presents several important challenges.

1.      Plants are dynamic. While a species generally maintains its characteristic phytochemistry, the concentration of its constituents varies considerably depending on the plant's age, growing conditions, soil, weather, season of harvest, wild versus cultivated habitat, storage methods, and preparation. Even the menstruum used for extraction—whether water, alcohol, vinegar, or another medium—changes which constituents are ultimately delivered.

2.      Medicine extends beyond chemistry. Herbal medicine has always existed within cultural, social, and often spiritual contexts. Ceremony, intention, relationship, and community may all influence how and when medicines are prepared and administered. These elements are difficult, if not impossible, to recover from the archaeological record alone. Evidence is often corroborated through archaeology, historical written records, early ethnographies, and living traditions that continue to be passed from one generation to the next, even though those traditions may have evolved over time.

3.      Herbal practice has always been diverse. There has never been a single standardized way to practice herbal medicine. Family practitioners, physicians, midwives, and Indigenous powwows developed approaches based on local ecology, cultural traditions, and personal experience. Historical accounts also document experimentation—including self-experimentation and practices that today would raise ethical concerns, and certainly stretched our understanding of the “narrow therapeutic window.” These individual accounts represent select cases and circumstances and cannot be applicable to the masses.

4.      Herbal formulas are often more than plants alone. Traditional preparations may incorporate minerals, animal-derived materials, foods, smoke, bathing, fasting, ceremony, prayer, or other practices (and items) alongside botanical medicines. Separating the plant from its cultural context risks misunderstanding how the medicine was intended, or what was actually delivered.

One observation appears repeatedly in early colonial accounts of New England. Seventeenth-century traveler John Josselyn, for example, described Indigenous communities as physically robust, noting their access to clean water, diverse plant foods, fish, game, and seasonal abundance. While such observations should always be interpreted critically through the lens of the observer, they nonetheless suggest that health was supported by far more than individual medicinal plants. It reflected an entire way of living.

This holistic perspective remains central to modern clinical herbalism. Rather than relying on a single "magic arrow," herbalists often formulate combinations of plants and lifestyle modifications for the individual. To give you an example, different herbs may complement one another by supporting the body as a system, a whole system. For example, like when supporting someone with an acute infection, a clinical herbalist may combine herbs that provide antimicrobial activity with others that encourage healthy lymphatic movement, modulate inflammation, or support the body's own immune response. Keep in mind this is also paired with lifestyle changes, helping the client change for themselves what got them there in the first place, if possible.

Unfortunately, historical documentation rarely captures this complexity. Many early chroniclers recorded the names of medicinal plants but failed to document how they were combined, prepared, dosed, or selected for particular individuals (especially for people of color). As a result, significant gaps remain in our understanding of Indigenous herbal traditions and the sophisticated relationships between people, plants, and place. Archaeologists, anthropologists, and ethnobotanists must therefore reconstruct these practices carefully, drawing upon archaeology, historical documents, ethnography, phytochemistry, ecology, and, whenever possible, the living knowledge maintained by herbalists and the Indigenous communities themselves. Likely in the end, asking more questions than coming up with answers.

As European settlement expanded throughout New England in the 1600s, Indigenous peoples increasingly faced displacement from their traditional homelands, restrictions on seasonal travel, disruptions to trade networks, and barriers to farming, hunting, fishing, and gathering. These colonial pressures profoundly altered daily life and access to traditional plant resources. Yet despite these hardships, Indigenous medical knowledge endured. Much of it continues to be practiced, adapted, and preserved.

Herbalism also remains an important part of healthcare worldwide. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, as of 2022, roughly 25% of the US population uses herbalism (this does not include the "natural" or supplement industry), and according to the World Health Organization, 40-90% of the populations surveyed utilized herbal care, with developing countries relying on it for 80% of their administered care!

Modern Challenges to Understanding Herbalism

One of the biggest lessons I have learned is this: Plants are not "for diseases"—they work with people.

It is tempting to ask, "What herb is used for migraines?" or "What plant treats anxiety?" Those questions are understandable, but they reflect a modern, reductionist way of thinking. Traditional herbal systems have generally approached health differently. Rather than matching one plant to one diagnosis, they ask, Who is this person? What is happening in their life? What patterns are present?

Two people may share the same medical diagnosis yet require entirely different herbal approaches because their constitutions, diets, stress levels, environments, medications, and health histories differ. This individualized perspective is one of the defining characteristics of clinical herbalism. This way of practicing also requires time and trust between clinician and client.

None of this diminishes the value of modern medicine. Conventional healthcare has transformed emergency medicine, surgery, and intensive care. In herbalism, we simply ask different questions. The questions place greater emphasis on supporting the body's natural processes while considering lifestyle, nutrition, stress, sleep, relationships, and the many factors that contribute to long-term health.

Another challenge is language. In the United States, responsible herbal practitioners are careful about the words they use. Unless they hold an appropriate healthcare license, reputable herbalists avoid claims that they diagnose, prescribe, or cure/treat disease. Personally, in my clinical practice, I do not even use the word "medicine" and dropped my PhD privilege to use Dr. An herbalist's role is to educate, support wellness, and recommend herbs, nutrition, and lifestyle strategies.

This can make finding experienced herbalists more difficult than people expect. You may have to get creative with your search terms, and keep in mind that some highly respected practitioners maintain little or no online presence. Others work quietly within their communities, teach by word of mouth, or preserve traditional knowledge outside mainstream social media.

Context matters just as much as the plants themselves. A historical herbal formula cannot simply be copied and expected to produce identical results centuries later. Plants vary chemically depending on where and how they were grown, when they were harvested, and how they were prepared. More importantly, the individual receiving the formula is different. While historical patterns provide valuable insight, herbal care has always required observation, adaptation, and individualized care.

Finally, it is worth recognizing that there are many kinds of herbalists. Some specialize in cultivation, wildcrafting, product formulation, community education, or traditional knowledge preservation. For instance, I'm a clinical herbalist. My role is not to grow herbs or manufacture products, but to work one-on-one with clients, reviewing health histories and helping develop individualized dietary, lifestyle, and herbal strategies. Many clinical herbalists intentionally choose not to manufacture or promote their own product lines. By remaining independent of a single company, we have the flexibility to recommend products from a variety of reputable suppliers based on quality, sourcing, and the specific needs of each individual, rather than loyalty to a particular brand. So, it may help to find clarity as to what kind of herbalist you are looking for.

Final Thoughts

If I could go back and give one piece of advice to my younger self, it would be this:

Don't waste time asking, "What herb was used for what disease?"

Ask better questions. How did people understand health? What role did nature/landscape play in their well-being? How was knowledge shared? Why was one plant chosen over another? What social, ecological, spiritual, and cultural relationships gave that plant its meaning?

Anthropologists do not simply study objects—they study relationships. A projectile point is not merely a stone or a couperus tool; it tells us about hunting, technology, trade, mobility, and survival. A ceramic vessel is not simply pottery; it speaks to foodways, family life, and culture - and self-expression of the artist!

Medicinal plants deserve the same lens. Plants used represent generations of observation, experimentation, adaptation, memory, ecology, and community. It reflects a relationship between people and place.

That realization fundamentally changed how I approached archaeology, medical anthropology, and eventually clinical herbalism. I stopped looking for lists of "plants for diseases" and began looking for patterns—for the relationships between plants, people, landscapes, and health. Ironically, once I stopped searching for simple or "cookie-cutter" answers, the historical record became less confusing!

Today, when I sit with clients as a clinical herbalist, I realize I am asking many of the same questions that first drew me to anthropology. Not simply “what is wrong?” but “who is this person?” “how do they live?” and “what relationships shape their health?” I want to know their status with food, stress, sleep, family, work, community, the natural world, and yes, with plants.

If this essay leaves you with one idea, let it be this: the disciplines may look different on the surface, but they have been asking the same questions all along. Health is not built or remedied by a single herb any more than culture is built by a single artifact.

With herbal cheer,

Ash

This article is not intended to treat, diagnose or cure. It is for educational purposes only.