Free trip to Bible Land!

Why do archaeology in Jerusalem? There are plenty of opportunities for tourism. It's the holy city, land of the Bible. David stepped there, Jesus here, Mohammed over there.

The difficulty with archaeology in the region of Palestine is that there are far too many biases as far as interests guided by explicitly biblical proofs. The dilemma of archaeology by such means is that it is pointed toward the releasing the burden of soil on top of sites that can be claimed as having a historical or biblical significance. But such endeavors do not enhance the understanding of humanity as a hole. It is teleological, inherently tied to political agendas of the contentious region by grounding stakes to the land through precedence that is sought to be proven archaeologically. As Ann Killebrew admits, "Whether we like it or not, archaeology of the twenty-first century through necessity (economically, ideologically, and intellectually) will be a more 'public' archaeology wherein we will need to confront all aspects related to the archaeological endeavor and its interface with many publics" (138).  Perhaps more so than most, archaeology within the region must contend with the varying and pressing interests of this land, and the pressures of developing an archaeology that is explicitly political.

It is for this reason that Raphael Greenberg insists the prevalence of local peoples in archaeology of the region. In such a way, there may be an attempt to save the archaeological integrity of the region for intellectual pursuits rather than those aimed at a political instantiation. The trouble with archaeology in Jerusalem is that Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all hold a stake in the area. If archaeological pursuits were to be interested as a religious pursuit, as it has so inherently been in the past, then the myriad of other contexts are ignored and destroyed in the destructive process of archaeological excavation. Thus, Greenberg presents a list of considerations for archaeologists, akin to an ethical code of conduct for archaeologists, in order to devoid themselves of as much political bias as possible. Of course, such a desire is quite idealistic, though nevertheless imperative to be aware of in a self-reflexive archaeology that may have some intellectual poignancy instead of archaeology being a political handmaiden for the region.

The object of archaeology?

What does an archaeologist do? What, exactly, is it that one studies? More poignantly, why do we care? This is seemingly at the core of a self-reflective archaeology as alluded to by Ian Hodder in "Archaeological Theory in Contemporary European Societies; the Emergence of Competing Traditions" and Ann Brower Stahl's "Introduction: Changing Perspectives on Africa's Past."

Importantly, Hodder concludes that there is a certain level of objectivity whereby our understanding of the past in the present time is informed by the remains from the past: "...the experience of the archaeological data and the patterning observed in the past do more than resist our ideas; they help create them" (22). However, is this a satisfying response to his previous statement that "The past is undeniably social, as is the practice of archaeology" (20)? He seems to claim that there is indeed some middle ground between the objective presence of material remains from a past existence and the socially-affected discipline of archaeology. However, with considerations such as "...the history of theories used in archaeology cannot be separated from the concrete conditions of practical research or from the social functions of archaeology in society" (21), how in fact can this objective-subjective dichotomy be mediated? Hodder claims that "The continuities we claim with the past have in part been created by that past. Archaeological science involves a dialectical relationship between past and present. The hermeneutic circle is not a vicious one" (22). This seems to be a logical fallacy, however, if the continuities we claim to have with a given past are in fact up to an interpretation of that past. Where does the science come into archaeology? How is that dialectic any different than the discourse that Said discusses on the matter of Orientalism?

If the object of archaeology is a past that is uncovered and interpreted in the present, is not any continuity drawn between this present and that past merely a structure of rhetoric and interpretation? The process that Hodder seems to rectify as in some way objective is anything but. It is a reflexive discourse, as is Said's Orientalism. We are the present, they are the past. We observe and study them through our lens. As the speakers for the past, we describe it and analyze it. Where, exactly does the data come in? How is this any different than an Orientalist discourse?

To be fair to Hodder, he does acknowledge this to an extent by inscribing: "The attempt to embed material events within the whole framework of meaning in which they were once situated clearly involves the analyst in a double hermeneutic in which 'their' and 'our' understandings are gradually accommodated in a moving double circle. This process of double reading has to be critically aware" (18). Is this not a method of navigating the vicious hermeneutic circle that Hodder eventually rejects? Poignantly, the process of archaeology is, indeed, a moving, reflexive discourse. It seems that there is no mere moment of archaeological objectiveness, but more so an ongoing, reflexive, discursive, hermeneutic enterprise. Is this not the history that Hodder so sensitively describes of his account of European archaeology?

So, this does not give an answer to any question asked originally as to what and why archaeologists study. There is seemingly no object of archaeology. The only objective to be found here is that it is a discourse among as many interpreted evidences as possible, characterized as 'data,' and with that to define, redefine, and question a past that is interpreted in the present. Likewise, these are the sorts of systematic problems that Stahl faces in prefacing an account of African archaeology. She considers knowledge to be always interested; i.e., the object of an analysis is determined "... by the social, political, and economic contexts..." of the subject (2). The conclusions drawn from such analyses are presented as universal, objective conditions, or 'knowledge,' but really "...the universal emerges NOT from widely documented shared features, as we might at first imagine, but rather from the elevation of a shared instance or example to stand for the universal" (6).

As for a capacity for archaeologists to do some study of worth, as heretofore they have been perhaps unfairly treated in this reflection, they consider sources--or perhaps objects--of a past, some of which are privileged over others. The direct sources are those privileged over indirect ones, having been produced in the temporal realm of concern. These data points that Hodder perhaps designates too much of an objectivity for, are by no means such. However, their presence and usage in an archaeological endeavor is not to be unsubstantiated, but reconsidered. To reckon with these qualms, Stahl wisely places such archaeological 'data' in its rightful place by claiming, "Archaeological sources...provide valuable independent evidence against which to assess models of the past." The insistence here is on her use of the term models. To bring this discussion to a more hopeful end with regards to the place and function of archaeology, if we are to study 'the past' as models of such rather than an objective sort, and the evidence from which as artifacts to be questioned, analyzed, and interpreted for or against certain models, than in fact archaeology can have an exuberant worth insofar as it acquires and exploits data while questioning it and the meaning thereof.

With this in mind, Stahl puts it far better than I could attempt to here, and will therefore end as she does. Her considerations are universal, however. For archaeology to succeed and have relevancy, it must be a subjective study of the subjective. As one would advise the insecure and miserable pubescent boy, accept and pride in who you are. For archaeology to reach the level of adulthood, it must accept what it is and what it is not. It is an anarchical endeavor, no right or wrong, this or that, us or them. Archaeology is, indeed, the study of everything. It is only different insofar of its perspective. Thus, perhaps archaeology is more suited as a frame of mind than a discipline unto itself. Anyway, rather than belabor this point, Stahl has some words to comfort us all in the throes of archaeological existential crises:

"Africa's pasts speak to us--conceived as an encompassing 'circle of we'--not for what they tell us about teleologically conceived universal progress, or quintessential difference and diversity conceived as a departure from an ever-present phantom standard of 'us-ness.' Rather they offer insight into our humanness; to the struggles of humans as social actors to feed and care for family, to express commonalities and differences, to impose or resist power and hegemony, in short, to make our way in a world of entangled and changing natural and cultural circumstances" (16).

Inscribing Ideology: Construction of the Levantine Landscape

            Alan R. H. Baker and Gideon Biger titled their 1992 co-edited volume Ideology and landscape in historical perspective, emphasizing the way in which landscape is culturally constructed. Humans do not just modify their environments for purely functional reasons; they often do so in an ideological manner, embedding their motivations and paradigms into the space they inhabit. It is this human tendency that makes landscape archaeology a valuable subdiscipline. Through analysis of the physical remnants of human impacts on landscapes, archaeologists can make interpretations concerning not simply which materials cultures historically utilized, but also concepts higher up on Hawkes’ ladder of inference: concepts that are more ideological. Social class divisions can be inscribed on the landscape through privatization and restriction of certain preferential locales, and religious beliefs are evidenced by, for example, the association of offerings with particular spatial attributes (cardinal directions, water features, elevated areas, etc).

            This use of geography to infer ideology is not restricted to prehistoric cultures, however, nor is it restricted to material remains uncovered during excavation. Ideology can just as easily, if not more so, be construed through analysis of historical records, particularly maps. There is a tendency to see the advent of cartography as the beginning of an objective view of space, as if with mapmaking humans were able to visualize the Earth’s “true” geography. Any map, though, inscribes the worldview of its maker, which is dangerous when this subjectivity goes unrecognized. For example, maps of the Levant continue to refer to archaeological sites by Biblical names assigned to them by European imperialists, often without historical or material evidence. Yet, because of the emphasis placed by Western thought on the written word, and because of the Eurocentric global power structure, these maps are preferenced over other narratives that may exist in the eyes of, for instance, Bedouin peoples who actually inhabit the area.

            It is important to consider the role that archaeology played, particularly in the 19^th century, in imbuing Levantine landscapes with a Judeo-Christian ideology. In her book A World History of Nineteenth-Century Archaeology: Nationalism, Colonialism, and the Past, Margarita Diaz-Andreu discusses several instances of archaeologists who set out specifically to map Biblical sites. Some of these pioneering figures in the archaeology of Palestine in particular, including Eli Smith, lived in Missions and thus aimed to convert local peoples to the Christian faith. Therefore, archaeology provided one means to the end of illustrating the essential “truth” of Christianity. Even if conversion of others was not an explicit goal, the naming of sites based on nonspecific Biblical descriptions implies a preeminence of that time period in history, as though little of note occurred before or since. Diaz-Andreu includes this passage from one account of traveling in Mesopotamia, written by British archaeologist Austen Henry Layard in 1849:

With these names [Assyria, Babylonia and Chaldaea] are linked great nations and great cities dimly shadowed forth in history; mighty ruins in the midst of deserts…the remnants of the mighty races still roving over the land (135).

The terms “ruins” and “deserts” in particular connote uninhabited, desolate landscapes, even though the land was still occupied at the time of Layard’s travels, and the word “remnants” indicates a belief that any culture that does remain is but a lesser shadow of the region’s former majesty.

              It is obviously problematic to confer Biblical names on archaeological sites, as occupation of the region predates the advent of Judeo-Christian tradition by many millennia. Perhaps more problematic, however, is that these labels are still utilized on political maps to refer to current settlements. As a student of archaeology, it is on some level gratifying to see the extent to which archaeology is valued in the Levant, demonstrated by this constant referencing of land areas by the material remains that exist belowground. Yet, this act intrinsically denigrates the current inhabitants of these regions that do not subscribe to a Judeo-Christian ideology or to a Eurocentric concept of land ownership (e.g. nomadic Bedouin peoples). Like on the African continent, European powers were able to assume control of land partitioning due to military might. But because of the significance of the Levant within the Western religious tradition, imperialist ideology was supplemented by a Biblical one, and thus the names themselves, not just the initial act of naming, continue to elevate the imperialists and their supposed Biblical ancestors, denying others the agency and power to define themselves.

As Myth Begets History, so History Begets Possession

Diaz-Andreu describes Biblical Archaeology as ”a unique case of informal imperialism…[in which] religious interest influenced archaeology in many ways: who was doing archaeology and who paid for it, in what was excavated and in how interpretations were received in the Western World” [165].  The rise of Biblical Archaeology in the 19^th century was also a response to the paradigm shift in the science of origins that took place with the publication of Origin of the Species and Descent of Man, in 1859 and 1871, respectively.   Repeatedly, the mission statements of organizations like the Palestine Exploration Society refer to “defense of the Bible” [Shaw via Diaz-Andreu, 151] and in the words of the Society of Biblical Archaeology, the scope was “not Theology, but to Theology it will prove an important aid” [Moorey via Diaz-Andreu, 149).   

Diaz-Andreu enumerates the humanist intellectual currents that, like a war of attrition, had been undermining the primacy of the Bible, from the renewal of interest in ancient, non-Biblical, Greek philosophy to Luther and Rousseau.  The arrival of Darwin must have felt like a punch in the gut.  But all was not lost: the new science of Archaeology, with “a single blow of the excavator’s pick [ would shatter] the most ingenious conclusions of the Western critic…the stories of the Old Testament which we are now being told are but myths…will prove to be based on a solid foundation of truth’ [Sayce via Diaz-Andreu, 162].

Whitlam highlights how the problematic discovery of “deep time” by Lyell and Darwin had a devastating impact on Old Testament chronologies [Whitlam, 28].   Small wonder that there was a headlong rush to underpin Biblical narratives with physical associations, fighting Science with Science, as it were.    For 19^th century Europeans, the Bible was the singular operating social-principle and Darwin’s work, among others, threatened to place it in the category of myth.   If the Bible could be confirmed as history, it would stand as counterpoint to this intolerable refashioning of human origins.

And history, as much as myth, is in the eye of the beholder.  Specific “historical memories” are selected, even unconsciously, according to the needs of a culture or sub-culture.  Invariably there are conflicting perceptions; narratives that pose as the final word, which in turn become embedded or imposed [Whitlam, 29-30].  In Palestine and Israel we see the result of a frantic response to shifting narratives: to gain purchase in a landscape before interpretation made alternatives possible; to turn parables into events.  By working their way back through the Old Testament, the Biblical Archaeologists might eventually arrive at Genesis and cast out the likes of Darwin, Lyell, Marx and Wallace from the Eden of historic certainty.

Interesting or Interested?

Ann Brower Stahl's discussion or African archaeology revolves around a central issue of why pursue archaeology in a particular region. There is a dominance of western research taking place in the African continent. Although Western researchers might portray themselves as merely having an innocent region in this place, Stahl presents an account of a more biased interest to further Western interests. Is archaeology conducted because it is simply interesting, or rather, is Western researchers produce a data set that is interested for a particular purpose?

This discussion revolves around the notion of epistemology. Considering Ian Hodder's discussions of the development of archaeology in Archaeological Theory in Europe, "As we have seen, European archaeology has long been dominated by ethnogenetic questions which required little theoretical discussions beyond the methodologies of culture-historical reconstruction" (9). Apparently, archaeology can be viewed as a rather teleological endeavor--not one in which there is a disinterested pursuit for increasing humanity's knowledge of its past, but a task of proving particular hypothesis for the substantiation of contemporary societal norms and standpoints. This is exactly why Stahl lingers on the question of "For whom is knowledge of Africa's pasts relevant?" (2). Archaeology as a process of gathering information is always theoretical insofar as the researcher has inherent biases of a contemporary standpoint.

Stemming from Edward Said's account of Orientalism as an us-and-them dialectic, Stahl similarly portrays African archaeology in a similar light. Archaeological research in Africa are inherently engaged in a similar rhetoric. In the search for 'us,' there might be an idea that excavating is a means to uncover our genetic 'Eve.' Beside this term in itself being an extraordinarily gendered one, there is implicitly always going to be strain of interest by way of using archaeological evidence to further a contemporary philosophic standpoint. Again, to quote Stahl, "...the universal emerges NOT from widely documented shared features, as we might at first imagine, but rather from the elevation of a specific instance or example to stand for the universal" (6). Perhaps this is at the core of archaeology's anxiety of being viewed as scientific, since science is incontestable, as is the Western mantra. If archaeology is viewed as scientific, then it too is incontestable, and thereby the results of the Western archaeological endeavor in Africa as portraying a teleology of humanity from savage to civilized is likewise incontestable. It is for this reason that Stahl insists on a self-conscious sort of archaeological research in one's biases are made explicit. If we can avoid an insistence on accuracy and make way for intellectual empathy, then perhaps archaeology can show itself as an apt field of its own, not as the little brother needlessly trying to live up to Science's example.

The Ideology of Archaeological Theory and Practice

“Ideology,” while a prevalent term in archaeological literature, is difficult to define precisely. In the first chapter of Ideology: An Introduction, “What is Ideology,” Terry Eagleton enumerates a variety of definitions, some of which are more neutral and others that either imply or assert value judgments. For instance, ideology is to certain scholars “the process of production of meanings, signs and values in social life,” while to others it is “systematically distorted communication.” (1-2). The first description is fairly neutral, while the second has clearly pejorative connotations.

Like Foucault, I am reluctant to reject the Marxist notion of ideology as inherently distorted or false because it implies the existence of its opposite: a universal, absolute truth. However, I do not believe that “ideology” as a concept necessitates rejection altogether. Rather, I tend towards the first definition, which can reflect the formation and propagation of any belief system, dominant or marginal, as all are neither “true” nor “false.” Additionally, in my view, ideologies are not teleological; rather, they are relational and evolve, converge and diverge. As Said emphasized in his discussion of Orientalism, ideologies are formed through dialectical interactions between individuals within society. Therefore, individuals do have the capacity to influence ideologies and even contradict them. Acknowledgement of this individual agency makes the continued dominance of certain ideologies that much more impressive and allows us to consider the reasons why they were so well suited to a particular spatiotemporal arena.

In thinking about the concept of ideology and how I might define such a problematic (but also, I would argue, useful) term, I began to think about the ideologies of archaeology itself, both as a theoretical discipline and a practical, applied endeavor. This passage from the first chapter of Archaeological Theory in Europe: The Last Three Decades emphasizes the ideological nature of archaeology:

Each age, in each country, writes its own history and its own archaeology. As a result of these changes and differences, and as a result of the engrained social and political uses and misuses of archaeology in the European context, it is difficult to remain blind to the theoretical construction of archaeological objects, difficult not to see archaeologists transforming reality and difficult not to recognize artefacts as products rather than records (Hodder, 10).

The shift in archaeological theory and practice from antiquarianism to post (or even perhaps post-post) processualism can arguably be discussed as a change in the dominant ideologies of the archaeologist. As Hodder emphasizes, the pasts we construct as archaeologists change from year to year, decade to decade, and century to century not because of radical shifts in the material culture that is excavated but by changes in the belief systems of the discipline’s practitioners. Post-processualism acknowledges the influence of the individual archaeologist’s sociopolitical history in his/her scholarship. It is standard practice today to concede that objectivity is an impossible and therefore futile goal. However, it is important to realize that this shift is not an escape from ideology altogether but rather the emergence of a new dominant paradigm within archaeology.

This recognition of the pervasiveness of ideology as an integral component of society is important with regards to the practical, cultural heritage applications of archaeology in addition to the theoretical. For example, in the first chapter of Ann Stahl’s book African Archaeology: A Critical Introduction, she briefly problematizes UNESCO World Heritage sites. According to the organization’s website, “What makes the concept of World Heritage exceptional is its universal application. World Heritage sites belong to all the peoples of the world, irrespective of the territory on which they are located.” While this sentiment is seemingly positive, it imposes an ideology of global allegiance to an organization that is predominantly “Western” in philosophy, personnel and funding. It is trendy in the United States educational system to produce “global citizens,” but in countries that face constant socioeconomic and political instability (largely as the result of a Western colonialist history), prioritizing a national or even local agenda may be more advantageous. Of course, I am thrilled that because of these organizations, tracts of biodiverse ecosystems and historical sites have been preserved. However, it is important to recognize that the idea that one organization can lay claim to the entire globe is a fundamentally Western ideology stemming from an expansionist, colonialist history.

Therefore, not only is ideology still relevant as a theoretical concept in archaeology, it has practical implications for the preservation (and therefore construction) of the past.  

How do we look for answers?

“The same site also contained deposits that are more than twice as old as the skull, including 46,000-year-old ostrich eggshells that were used to make beads. The new finds could reveal insights about the shifts in human culture that took place starting when the ancestors of present-day humans left Africa, around 50,000 years ago. [See Images of Our Closest Human Ancestor]”     [article referencing: “Late Pleistocene age and archaeological context for the hominin calvaria”, from GvJm-22 (Lukenya Hill, Kenya]  (Tryon et al. 2015, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences)

The above passage appeared in a news report about new discoveries in hominid diversity at the Lukenya Hill site in Kenya.  While most mainstream reporting of science-related news tends to reduce serious research to inexact sound bites (in this case: “Stone Age Skull Reveals Astonishing Human Diversity”), I was struck by the reappearance of that old “out of Africa” chestnut that Lucy mentioned last week. This notion that  the ancestors of present-day humans left Africa, suggests that Africa is now depopulated of present-day humans.   Hopefully someone remembered to turn out the lights.

However, even within more theoretical circles, migration is associated with progress in a linear way.    As Stahl points out, the narrative of change within “the Project of World Prehistory” is typically one that ends, or at least arrives, in the Northern Hemisphere [Stahl, 5, 7].  Africa is a place that we have left behind and perceive of in a disassociated way:  it’s what we once were, but now only vaguely recognize.  There is a tendency to apply a standardized model to what can be observed-- or imagined:  looking for material culture that will fit a particular template so that we might determine what is actually culture. 

Hodder (at least in this essay) ties post-processualist Archaeology to a European framework, arguing for an expansion beyond data collection and more inclusive or multi-faceted discourses [Hodder, 6-7].   He begins by contrasting the nationalist underpinnings of earlier Archaeology, which tended to assign primacy of innovation to one group or another (frequently, and not coincidentally, a region or ethnicity associated with the archaeologist, himself).  By opening up culture-theory to encompass a range of broad human traits and social constructions, Hodder would refresh the dialogue concerning origins and their reverberations still present in the culture.

But with that dominant focus on Europe and its social “innovations” or landmarks, it strikes me that Africa is still filtered through a European or Western perspective. The search of comparable cultural landmarks in prehistory continues to place Africa in a European framework.   Stahl cites the search for the origins of innovation, at least as defined in a Euro-centric way  (metallurgy and trade, for example), as a sign that there remain limited models at work when evaluating culture [Stahl, 12-13).  To be fair, Hodder’s assessment is nearly 25 years old (if not more).  While more generous and dynamic than what preceded it, I’m not sure it provides an unencumbered system with which to look at Africa and prehistory.