Archaeology: A Limited Connection with the Past
It is easy to think that archaeology involves following some kind of treasure map, or digging in the ground and happening upon priceless artefacts or lost civilisations as portrayed in the media. And often, when I tell people I’m an archaeologist, the question—‘what’s the best thing you’ve found?’—invariably follows.
And when I tell them about stems from 18th-century clay pipes and fragments of pottery scattered across fields, or a 3,000-year-old hut circle hidden among Caledonian evergreens, their faces fill with confusion. People want to hear about treasure, skeletons, remnants of great battles and Indiana Jones-style adventure—the types that often make the headlines and lead to the common misconception that archaeology is solely about excavation.
Archaeology, in a way, enables us to travel through time through material culture. It is about discovering our past and learning from it. It is vital to gain an understanding about where we came from, how our ancestors interacted with their surroundings, and the variety of different cultures and beliefs that came with them, because there is a danger for people to think that our way of living is the only way to live. And while a trowel and spade are staples of an archaeologist’s toolkit, to fully understand human history, we have to utilise as many ways of engaging with the past as possible.
British archaeology has amassed a tremendous amount of knowledge—from the Palaeolithic to the height of the Viking Age and beyond. But due to time, manpower, and funding limitations, archaeological practice is reliant on prior assessment of the significance of a site. Those considered to be of high importance—valuable for furthering knowledge of the past, containing priceless treasures, or belonging to a prominent figure—may be preserved or even receive funding for detailed excavation and publication. But those deemed to be less worthy could be left to disappear without a trace or be lost to the archives.
During my master’s degree—as we debate the significance of artefacts to people, societies, and cultures who now cannot speak for themselves—I am becoming more and more aware that, while I can examine an assemblage of stone or metal tools, post-holes, or even fragments of clothing that managed to survive for many years below ground, the voices of those whom they actually belonged to, those who used them and cherished them and once walked at the site they were discovered in, are missing.
Assumptions about the significance of an artefact or a site are not a reflection of those people, but are based upon how valuable they are deemed for furthering archaeological knowledge today. Crucial decisions are based on contemporary criteria that relate to our society, not those of the past, and I find myself wondering, who are we to place value on what people who came before us left behind? And how can we interpret past societies when the remaining material culture doesn’t necessarily represent the whole society?
Organic remains, such as those of cloth or wood, are less likely to survive in Britain’s climate, unlike stone and metal. And, additionally, we can only make educated analyses of how materials were used and valued in relation to the paraphernalia of our everyday lives. For example, as a student, a notebook is essential to my lifestyle, but it would be hard to assess the significance of an entire university campus from the spiral spines of thousands of A4 exercise books that will invariably last longer than the paper they contained.
Amateur archaeological societies and metal detectorists can help with this, enabling the discovery of material cultures that would have inevitably remained buried beneath the soil—and the more that can be discovered, the more we can fill in the pieces of the complex puzzle that forms the past. The human experience is not universal. Human development is not universal. And the more I read, and the more I interact with other people, the more it becomes abundantly clear that no two experiences or points of view are the same. Archaeology is about people and learning from people. But it is essential to also consider our limitations and the voices that are missing.
Archaeology is about people and learning from people. But it is essential to also consider our limitations and the voices that are missing. Image: ‘Fragment of a Queen’s Face’ (circa 1353–1336 B.C.) at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Damon Winter / The New York Times
Archaeology is vital to gain an understanding about where we came from, how our ancestors interacted with their surroundings, and the variety of different cultures and beliefs that came with them, because there is a danger for people to think that our way of living is the only way to live. Image: Cave painting in Lascaux. Image source: SPLASH VIETCOMICS
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