The BNP and bogus prehistory

It’s been over a week since the British National Party leader Nick Griffin appeared on a shamelessly hyped edition of the BBC’s television show Question Time. A long time in politics. Though not as long the First World War, the Roman occupation of Britain, the Ice Age – all mentioned by the poppy-wearing panelists on the programme.

Race was, unsurprisingly, the hot topic, with Griffin claiming that the ‘indigenous people’ of Britain had suffered ‘genocide’ through immigration policy. Bonnie Greer (introduced as ‘an American-born playwright and deputy chairman [sic] of the British Museum’) questions the word indigenous. ‘What sort of a political party is based on an idea of indigenous people?’ She asks. ‘It just doesn’t exist’.

Greer later critiques the BNP’s website and the history it presents.

‘on his [Nick Griffin’s] site he starts his history largely in 700 AD; where’s the rest of British history? Where’s the Romans? There’s a reason the Romans aren’t there, because they were a multicultural society. Anybody could be a Roman citizen, and there were armies here of Africans and Asians and Europeans and when Rome left they were left behind. Now what happened with them? Do you think they hooked up with your indigenous Ice Age Britons, Nick?’

Responding to criticism of his use of the word of indigenous to describe Holocene Britons, Nick Griffin retorts:

‘Jack Straw wouldn’t dare to go to New Zealand and say to a Maori, ‘what do you mean indigeous’? … The indigenous people of these islands – the English, the Scots, the Irish and the Welsh – the colour is irrelevant. It is the people who have been here overwhelming for the last 17,000 years. We are the aborigines here. .. the simple fact is that the majority of the British people are descended from people who’ve lived here since time immemorial.’

Prehistory crops up again later in the programme

Bonnie Greer – ‘Look, the term indigenous: first of all there was an Ice Age here. There were no people here in the ice age because they couldn’t live in the ice.’

David Dimbleby [presenter] – ‘Let’s not go too far back. We’ll be here all night if we start at the Ice Age.’

Bonnie Greer – ‘No, Nick Griffin calls his party for indigenous, Ice Age people, am I wrong?’

Nick Griffin – ‘The people largely descended by people who came here, when the ice melted, 17,000 years ago.’

Bonnie Greer – ‘When the ice melted, 17,000 years ago, people came up from the south, didn’t they? They couldn’t come from the north. Where would they have come from the south? All of us […] are descended from Africa. You wouldn’t disagree with that, would you? Now, the only people who were here on this continent, and I’ve got a lot of books, in fact, I brought a lot of stuff for you to read Nick, because you need it… The only people who were here, and I call them people, were Neanderthals, those were the people who were on the European continent. Now if you don’t believe that, you can come to the British Museum, we’ve got lots and lots of information for you, I really wish you’d come, because the history you’ve got on your website is a joke. It’s wacky, and anybody who would seriously get upset by it …’

Wow, I knew this would be a circus, but it turned out to be more entertaining than expected!

There’s a serious point though (apart from the need to read books and not websites). The words ‘indigenous’, ‘aborigine’, ‘heritage’, are being appropriated by a racist political party to oppose immigration and multiculturalism. This highlights an awkward paradox in liberal thinking and language that derides the concept of race in some contexts and embraces it in others. Even while the concept of ethnicity as constructed, unbounded and mutable catches on, identification on the basis of ‘biological origins’ remains popular.

Boxes of gold

The announcement that a major hoard of Anglo-Saxon metalwork was discovered in July this year in the county of Staffordshire has generated great excitement. The hoard consists of around 1500 items including 5kg of gold. It was initially said to be 7th century, though a report on the inscribed pieces suggests an 8th-9th century date.  The significance of this find is likely to be immense – already, misleading statements about the hoard being ‘bigger than Sutton Hoo‘ are circulating.

But questions are already being raised over the circumstances of the hoard’s discovery. Once reported to authorities, the hoard had been excavated for five days and the finds were in boxes, despite this amount of precious metal automatically qualifying as being compulsory to report under the Treasure Act.

Efforts are now being made to salvage some contextual information for the find, which might illuminate the circumstances of the deposit, who the treasures belonged to, the story behind the artefacts. With treasure hunting using metal detecting encouraged by the British state, this scramble for information is a bizarre but sadly familiar situation.

As with around 80 per cent of finds reported to the Portable Antiquities Scheme, the ‘Staffordshire hoard’ was made using a metal detector on farmland, by Terry Herbert, a long time detectorist. With reports of major discoveries now commonplace in the British media, public awareness of metal detecting has been raised. It is important, though, that such discoveries are not blindly celebrated. They should be critically assessed. If it transpires that metal detecting and private entitlement to finds is not the public interest – financially, intellectually, ethically – then current laws, codes and attitudes need to be reviewed.

Busted

Sotheby’s auction house last month withdrew two, 19th-century plaster portrait busts from a sale of ‘Important Australian Art’, following protests by Tasmanian Aboriginal activists. The protestors opposed the sale of the sculptures – made by English sculptor Benjamin Law in 1835 and depicting Van Diemen’s Land Aboriginal chief Woureddy and his wife, Truganini – on the grounds that the images are racist, especially when portrayed as depictions of the ‘last full-blooded Tasmanian Aboriginal’, and that displaying representations of the dead is offensive to Aboriginal spiritual beliefs.

Now, the Tasmanian Aboriginal Centre, which has brought several repatriation claims including the high profile case involving the Natural History Museum in London, has written to museums in Australia and other countries known to have copies of these busts, demanding that they are withdrawn from display. It is uncertain whether the aim is to ‘return’ the sculptures to Tasmania.

There can be little doubt about the political and ideological background of these sculptures, made barely a few years after concerted efforts to eradicate all Aboriginal people on Van Dieman’s land. The case, though, sets up a highly problematic situation, suggesting that depictions of dead ancestors may be authorized by living descendants. Whether this could be applied to other formats such as photographs or film is unclear. It is also unclear whether non-indigenous groups or individuals with similar beliefs about depictions of the dead could make similar claims and, if not, whether such exceptionalism is tenable.

Allah! Allah!

Much has been made in the last 25-30 years of critical archaeological scholarship of the power of the meta-narrative as a device that makes implicit use of or subverts archaeological material in order to legitimate and perpetuate socio-cultural, and political ideas. One salient modern example is the archaeology of Saudi Arabia, which bears witness to the struggles between archaeologists and higher authorities with regards to dealing with the past.

Saudi Arabia faces the issue of confronting its seemingly rich pre-Islamic past in the face of pre-eminence of Islamic culture and a disregard for that which preceded it. The example illustrates well the power of archaeology breaking down conceptions of cultural homogeneity The past was clearly different – cultures rose and fell into obscurity; people’s daily lived lives cannot be accorded with modernity; society operated upon different precepts. As I have outlined before in this blog, archaeology has the ability to break down preconceptions and stereotypes through investigating difference.

Thus, archaeology merely shows how entrenched particular cultural precepts are in Saudi Arabia in the maintenance of certain cultural ideals, which themselves are arguably invested in upholding of structures relating to power and hierarchy aligned with ideology.

Concrete castles

Currently in Turkey there is a spate of building at archaeological sites. It involves the construction of tall, stone and concrete walls and flagpoles, especially on hilltops where there is a castle (kale) of medieval and post-medieval date (Byzantine, Seljuk, Ottoman).

These are not reconstructions or restorations. Although they might be couched in such terms, there is little attempt to reconstruct the ‘original’ monuments. They are built to be seen from a distance. Follies, in both senses of the word.

Besides bemoaning the destruction of archaeological context and despoiling of the landscape, we must ask what are the circumstances and motivations behind these structures? For they are, after all, part of the ongoing construction of the landscape, an engagement with the material past.

Filyos kalesi on the Black Sea coast. The walls were built in 2003

There may be many reasons and decisions to build. It seems to be decided and funded at the level of the province (il) and sub-province (ilçe). We can speculate on council attempts at landscaping – to enhance the appearance and appeal of prominent places. As well as being popular places and tourist sites, a town’s kale is often known as a place of carousing and courting. There may also be an element of chauvinism on the part of officials, planners and other local elites, to compete with other towns and regions, or with each other.

These pseudo-castles are not the same as the country estate follies built by 18th/19th-century aristocrats.  Though perhaps they are not all that different; as conspicuous displays of land manipulation and as the building of a past that suits the builder’s imagination and worldview.

The mystique of discovery

Archaeologists love a mystery, especially when it involves how things were found. The regional and personal names that describe many of the world’s archaeological unknowns – Lydia, Keros, Sevso, Priam - have a certain resonance; their origins unspoken, hidden or fabricated, lost in the scramble to unearth, collect, sell. Then there’s hoards with more exact placenames – Hoxne, Snettisham and Winchester - to name three from England.

The Mildenhall Treasure lies somewhere in between. Taking its name from a barren part of US-occupied Suffolk, this important group of Late Roman silver tableware was dug up in 1942 by a farm worker, Gordon Butcher, then kept by Sydney Ford (on whose land it was not actually found) and eventually acquired by the British Museum in 1946.

The story of the Mildenhall Treasure and documents surrounding its discovery are the subject of a fascinating article by Richard Hobbs in the The Antiquaries Journal (vol.88, 2008, pp.376-420). There’s no great scandal or sensation but there is intrigue:

“… after the hoard was declared treasure trove on 1 July 1946, doubts began to be expressed about the manner in which the two men – and particularly Sydney Ford – claimed the treasure had been found. A rumour that the treasure came from somewhere in the Mediterranean quickly gained currency [...] . In addition, two archaeologists, Tom Lethbridge and Gordon Fowler, seriously doubted Ford’s version of events, having failed to pinpoint the supposed burial pit, despite substantial field survey. Lethbridge and Fowler became increasingly convinced that the treasure was linked with an earlier failed attempt to locate a ‘buried treasure’ in 1923, claiming that the hoard had actually been found elsewhere and reburied at Mildenhall. Others have claimed that the hoard is not complete; they say that other pieces, and possibly coins, were not declared to the police. And there has also been a claim that the hoard was not found in January 1942 but earlier.”

…And some more – Greek demand for Parthenon marbles’ return renewed

The controversy over the rightful ownership Parthenon marbles is an omnipresent issue in contemporary archaeology, continually asserting its presence akin to a tectonically active geography. With the opening of the Akropolis Museum on the 20th of June, the Greeks are set to vociferate more vigorously in favour of their return. I visited the Akropolis in October 2008, and amidst the hordes of pilgrims and ruined marble, there was no shortage of tourist guides voicing the deplorable loss of the marbles. Those with a more politically zealous outlook, such as the Greek minister for culture, brand Lord Elgin’s actions as theft.

What is frequently overlooked is that, in order to remove the marbles, Elgin needed to obtain a firman (a permit) from the Ottoman authority, which permitted him to remove any sculptures, inscriptions and the like as he saw fit. Because of the unwieldy size of some pieces, a number were sawn into sections for easier transportation. The use of contemporary ethics, which are a product of a particular context and time, is merely going to result in a biased perspective that nullifies the Ottoman law and Elgin’s actions, which are a product of a different social, cultural, and political context.

There is no doubt that the Parthenon marbles are infused with a great deal of cultural capital and prestige. They reside prominently as material constituents that affirm the meta-narrative of the glory of western civilization, which has its roots in Classical Greece. Nihilistically speaking, no thing has any value intrinsic to itself – the Parthenon marbles are just that: stone shaped by artisans into particular representations. However, their value resides in the relationships and narratives woven around them over the past 2,500 years, which has transformed them into powerful symbols.

If we view the marbles as manifestations of human achievement, arguably, it should matter less where they are displayed. The fight over their ownership exposes the complexity of issues surrounding the power of the past in the present – politics driven by a (perhaps cynical?) need to gain prestige, and hierarchization of modern cultural identity.

Nighthawking report out

When I mention to friends my interest in the ethics of metal detecting , I’m usualy faced with a slightly amused, quizzical look. It’s seen as an eccentric, marginal hobby. Hardly something to get worked up about. Not like the ransacking of the Baghdad Museum, or Elgin’s removal of the marbles.  

‘Nighthawking’ is an even less familiar term than ‘metal detecting’. Though with release of the English Heritage-commissioned report it will probably gain more coverage. But what does it mean? I’m not interested in what’s legal and what’s not. That’s fairly clear. What I want to know is how do we decide what is responsible? Or rather, how does the report?

I’ll get back about that one…

A hint for the good collectors of the sea

They’re at it again. American treasure hunting firm Odyssey Marine Exploration last week announced (belatedly) the discovery in the English Channel of an 18th-century shipwreck, identified as HMS Victory. It’s another spectacular boon for the company, bound to haul in yet more treasure, tie-ins and profit. The company’s boss, Greg Stemm, said “the money is not as important as the cultural and historical significance of the discovery.” Sure. Yet coin collectors are already salivating over the prospect of 4 tons of gold. Oh, and its also a grave site of more than a thousand people. With a compliant British government, Odyssey can expect none of the lawsuits or bad press caused by those pesky Spaniards.

In a PR blitz that secured airplay worldwide, the company stressed how, far from a snatch and sell operation, it was performing a public service (eg comments on Channel 4 News report). Operating in a deep water no-mans-land, the company is a benevolent cultural saviour, a salvager of shipwrecks that would otherwise be destroyed by erosion and fishing nets. The time-tested argument of the good collector. In contrast to the prudish archaeologist, who would wish that the past lay buried, unknown or accessible only to the initiated elite, the good collector not only brings the past to light, but saves the past from destruction. The good collector’s magnanimity knows no bounds.

Well here’s a suggestion. Since Britain’s archaeological resource is officially up for grabs to whoever looks for it (as long as they’re not an archaeologist), perhaps Odyssey should establish an onshore operation. Using its massive budget to invest in cutting edge technology that can detect metal over many acres and far beneath the ploughsoil, it could set to work across the countryside, scanning every inch of the nation, revealing to us the wonders of the past, delighting in the hoards of context-less antiquities, and then selling them to us for a profit.

The Titanomachy of Relevance

The dissolution of 18 research positions at the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Anthropology and Archaeology highlights a contentious debate in contemporary cultural politics: the relevance and economic sustainability of humanities in modern capitalist Western society. Archaeology and anthropology are but two disciplines (or discourses) that are constantly required to justify their existence in the face of capitalist discourse, with which they are at variance.

By discourse I mean, in a very broad sense, a pattern of abstract ideas in co-extension with materiality and human agency, resulting in specific paradigms that comprise and drive society as we know it. In pitting the discourse of a humanities discipline such as archaeology against the dominant discourse of capitalism, the former will invariably become marginalized due to its incompatibility with the dominant discourse. This results in such a scenario as that of the Penn Museum.

Alternatively, attempts are made to infuse capitalist discourse with that of humanities so that they fit in better with the dominant paradigm. For example, the decline in public funding of universities has compelled them to seek financial assistance from large corporations, which in turn consider themselves justified in influencing the university curriculum and research direction, thus altering the discourse of disciplines warded by the university. Such institutions as museums and universities therefore begin to operate under the precepts of capitalist discourse. This results in what Hamilakis aptly summarizes in his article on archaeology and pedagogy (published in volume 36 of World Archaeology) as “relentless competition for funding, resources, students and staff, and positions in league tables”.

Disciplines like archaeology and anthropology are significant in that they are fields that are capable of engaging in critical and reflexive debate about established orders and discourses through studying the material record and society respectively. By marginalizing them, the possibility of this kind of debate is removed, and the disciplines, along with their discourses, risk become value only for their ability to create financial return.