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.

Pyramids in Vogue

Semir Osmanagić is perhaps the modern day Schliemann in the archaeological world. A Bosnian ex-pat who moved to America where he made his fortune, he subsequently turned actively to archaeology, where he made his claim to fame by proclaiming the hills surrounding the Bosnian town of Visoko to be pyramids constructed by an advanced civilization several thousand years ago. In an effort to promote a revisionist history of the world – one populated by several advanced civilisations that were subjected to cataclysmic destructions at the end of the last Ice Age in the event of sea-level rise, he has enlisted the media to spread his convictions, he undertaken lecture tours to put foward his views and expound upon the latest results, and employed team of archaeologists and other specialists to legitimate his claims. The parallels with Schliemann are perhaps superficial and only on the surface, but nevertheless uncanny.

Such figures always invite controversy, be it praise or censure, and indeed there is plenty to go around on both sides. Certainly, the writer of this article is unequivocally cynical. I’m one of the suspicious ones. Misrepresentation of the archaeological record can be blatant or go undetected, with considerable consequences, be it on the level of publication or collection of data. This is something Schliemann is particularly well-known for, as has been demonstrated in research of the past 25 years. Even so called great archaeologists, like Arthur Evans, were not above some falsification. Evans deliberately falsified photographs in his Palace of Minos volumes of Middle Minoan strata to make them appear more congenial towards his theories relating to the apogee of Minoan culture during this period.

Is Osmanagić merely a dilettante, eager to acquire intellectual respectability, or is he onto something? Such ad hominem arguments are circular and contibute little towards reaching any kind of understanding. Osmanagić’s activities present an opportunity in examining the nature of archaeological discourse, the genesis and consumption of knowledge through various media, and the role of archaeologists in society. For instance, in the context of the former Yugoslav republics, nationalism has frequently played a role in seeking to create a co-extension between abstract ideals and the material world in order to justify the undertaking of actions. Archaeology and history have often played significant roles in such endeavours, not merely in the Balkans. Osmanagić is not above repeatedly discussing the exceptional nature of Bosnia in the light of his theories, doubtless bolstering claims for his homeland’s significance in the context of human history and enhancing its cultural capital. Such seems to be the enthusiasm regarding the Bosnian pyramids that the Italians are finding their own too.

Schliemann did not in reality find Homer’s Troy. Instead he discovered a period of mercantile and cultural fecundity in the Aegean and Mediterranean. What Osmanagić has discovered remains to be seen. Perhaps the tale of Schliemann should urge us to exercise caution in evaluating Osmanagić’s claims, for the machinations involved in the production of archaeological knowledge are many in their variety, subtlety, and aims.

 

Unprecedented find, unprecedented fee

Oetzi, the famous ice mummy, found at the border of Austria and Italy has remained in the news ever since its unsettling find in 1991. After the border dispute about his national affiliations, settled in favour of the Italians, the dispute about the finder’s fee has finally been settled last week. An Italian court has ruled and reinstated that the council and its provincial museum should compensate the remaining finder. The finder’s fee agreed upon amounts to 150,000 Euros, which seems to be a better reflection of the “25% of a discovery’s value” than the 10,000,000 of the pre-Euro Italian currency (i.e. 5,000 Euros) proposed in 1994. However, in several respects it sets a precedent: not only is the amount of the finder’s fee itself unprecedented, but also the way in which it was settled has far-reaching implications . The court rule takes into account the revenues of the museum that currently houses the unprecedented find. In other words, the value of Oetzi has been set after the fact and not according to the intrinsic value of the archaeological find, as for instance in the British Treasure Act. It would seem that we can expect more long-lasting law suits to follow in other cases based on this precedent. We can only hope for the heirs of the finders that the fee is not cursed, as the find itself, but for archaeology it is far from a blessing.

Online register of archaeological sites in Turkey

The Türkiye Arkeolojik Yerleşmeleri (TAY) project has just launched an updated online database and searchable map of archaeological sites, TAY GIS. The launch is reported in the Turkish Daily News.

The register allows searches of sites from the Palaeolithic, Neolithic, Chalcolithic and Bronze Age across Turkey. There are also other search options, including a facility to look up destroyed or damaged archaeological sites (tick the ‘tahribat türü’ or ‘destruction type’ tab). The type of destruction is described for each site – agriculture, looting (illicit digging), contemporary settlements and road building.

I’ve previously had my doubts about the TAY project’s aim of recording “all” archaeological sites in Turkey. But the enthusiasm and prolific output of the project team and the way that information is made so widely accessible makes this an invaluable resource – and makes my theoretical quibbles sound quite trivial!

Meet the ‘responsible’ lithic collectors

While browsing the web for information on antiquities sales in the US, I found myself at a forum for discussing how to find and purchase ancient chipped stone tools. This site linked to a number of regional and national groups and dealers. Clicking through to some of these websites, with names like ‘Arrowhead Hunters’ and ‘Goodflint’, it was clear that these were small time vendors and chat rooms for people who collected lithics as a hobby, most featuring galleries of artefacts for sale, at around the $100 mark, but some going into the thousand dollar range.

Being slightly familiar with treasure hunting / metal detecting in the UK, it seemed that these artefact collectors were considerably less informed about preserving and recording archaeological context, though not necessarily more reckless than their British counterparts. The typical ‘code for responsible collecting’ read something like the advice at Texas Cache:

Artifacts are special pieces of ancient history. Please dig responsible and preserve your finds through photographs and proper documentation. Happy hunting!

It made me think again about the concept of ‘responsible artefact collecting’. Can there be such a thing in this day and age? Unfortunately, the notion seems to have been given credence, perhaps inadvertently, by people otherwise opposed to looting. Taking a photo, covering the hole you’ve dug, recording a six figure grid reference – these are what counts for responsible according to some codes. But surely the very act of treasure hunting, looting, looking for objects for their own sake, is irresponsible. How much responsible artefact collecting can be done before a land becomes so degraded to be archaeologically useless?

Treasure hunters duped

As the legal proceedings by the Spanish government against maverick American treasure hunting outfit Odyssey Marine Exploration drag on, a less high-profile story involving maritime loot has just concluded in Australia.

The case involved a businessmen, Christopher Woolgrove, luring investors into handing over more than $2m, to lift the lucre from a gold-laden Portuguese shipwreck off Sumatra. Which never existed. In 1995 he was convicted for touting a similar scheme. But this time he used the ‘credibility’ of unabashed underwater treasure hunter Captain Mike Hatcher, who claimed that the episode had tainted his ‘reputation’.