The Educational Purpose of Archaeology: A Personal View from the United Kingdom

Abstract

The United Kingdom (UK) has a very rich historic environment. Everywhere we go, we see remains of the past all around us; where we live, work, and travel. Archaeology concerns itself with all physical traces of the human past, and therefore archaeology in Britain covers upstanding buildings, roads, and field boundaries just as much as ruins and buried sites. Dwellings and shops built in the 1960s are archaeological evidence in the same way as ruined medieval monasteries, Roman forts, and prehistoric burials. Many people often take for granted the landscapes they walk through and seldom explicitly recognize the depth of time involved in what they can see.

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The United Kingdom (UK) has a very rich historic environment. Everywhere we go, we see remains of the past all around us; where we live, work, and travel. Archaeology concerns itself with all physical traces of the human past, and therefore archaeology in Britain covers upstanding buildings, roads, and field boundaries just as much as ruins and buried sites. Dwellings and shops built in the 1960s are archaeological evidence in the same way as ruined medieval monasteries, Roman forts, and prehistoric burials. Many people often take for granted the landscapes they walk through and seldom explicitly recognize the depth of time involved in what they can see. In London, we can stand at the new Millennium Bridge with our backs toward the former Bankside power station, built after the Second World War and walk across straight toward St Paul’s Cathedral, built after 1675 (Fig. 16.1). In the space of perhaps 250 m, we can walk through 300 years of history. Many towns and villages throughout Britain have similar time depth to their streetscapes, and few even more depth of time than this. A city like York is dominated by its medieval Minster (cathedral), with the current structure built 800 years ago. Yet, although most people who live in and visit the city are aware of the building as old, there is no real sense of what that 800 years means; of how many lives have been spent in the Minster’s shadow, nor of the Minster as a historic building since it is still in use as a Christian church. What are consciously accepted as old and historic are often those parts of the historic environment that are consciously marketed as such. From the World Heritage Sites at Stonehenge and Hadrian’s Wall to the faint traces of Bronze Age field systems 3,000 years old, the ruined and abandoned past is obvious. Sometimes, what seems to be old is not old. Right next to the Bankside power station is the reconstructed Globe Theatre a faithfully done creation, representing what the builders’ think the original Globe Theatre of the 1590s would have looked like (Fig. 16.2). The original site where the real Globe once stood is now a car park under an eighteenth-century housing block, about 200 m away. Of course, old buildings can survive in a new guise. The Bankside power station has been reborn as Tate Modern, an art gallery devoted to modern art; the ultimate in a renewable, ahistoric material culture. Past and present form an intricate, ever-changing, and interwoven tapestry in British life.

Fig. 16.1

St Paul’s Cathedral across the millennia, London (Photo by author)

Fig. 16.2

The Globe Theatre, London (Photo by author)

This rich heritage is one of our greatest economic assets. Tourists do not come to Britain for our climate or our golden sandy beaches. They come to us for our past, whether genuine or reconstructed. Often what they come for is an imaginary past as seen in films or preserved in mythic stereotypes, or an iconic past of key sites like the Tower of London, Ironbridge or Edinburgh Castle. More subtly, it is the pattern of streets, the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century stone buildings in the towns, the patterns of fields and villages in the rural landscapes that provide a reassurance that Britain is old and a place where change happens only slowly (itself arguably a myth).

However that heritage is always under threat from new building, erosion, and most of all for our prehistoric past from farming. Protection against the loss of valuable archaeology lies in the hands of archaeologists based in local authorities (counties and sometimes districts in England, in four large trusts in Wales, and in groups of local councils in Scotland). These will keep an eye out for potential destruction and if necessary insist as part of planning permission that the archaeology should be conserved or investigated. Any archaeological work that needs to be done will be put out to tender by the developer and archaeological companies will bid for contracts to do the work. Funding for this work is provided by the developers. Yet, there is never enough money to cope with the size of the historic environment and many developers complain about having to pay for archaeological work to be done in the first place.

Of course, archaeology is more than just saving sites from destruction. It is also about making people aware of their past and helping them to understand it. Public interest in the past is enormous. There are perhaps 15,000 people studying archaeology courses in education, more than 2,000 local heritage groups and societies (over 200,000 people), 900,000 members of English Heritage, 3,500,000 members of the National Trust, up to 10,000,000 people may regularly watch TV programs on history, archaeology and heritage, and, according to a opinion survey in 2003 (Robinson and Kaur-Ballagan 2004), 62% of the population visited historic institutions or sites during the year. In another survey in 2000, 87% of people said the past played an important part in cultural life of the country (English Heritage 2000). It is the archaeologists in Britain who are the essential middle layer between heritage and the interested public. Our upstanding and visibly obvious heritage of buildings and sites goes back 6,000 years. Very few people know much about it or could even recognize the right dates for what they see. Fewer will know much about the activities that took place in the buildings they see, or about the lives of people who built and used them. We are the mediators who give people this knowledge and understanding (Fig. 16.3).

Fig. 16.3

The heritage chain

Successful mediation involves listening carefully to the other side to find out what they want to see and hear. We then have the choice whether to simply provide what the public say they want, or to give them what we think they should have. The past serves some deep-seated needs and wants within people (Lowenthal 1988), and we need to negotiate our relationship with them. The past may have become part of popular culture (Holtorf 2005), but does that mean that archaeology has to be populist in its approach? One of the great communicators in archaeology, Sir Mortimer Wheeler, was never afraid of using popular media like television, nor of creating good narratives as a way of communicating with an audience, yet he was also careful never to abdicate his responsibilities to the archaeological discipline and its evidence.

However, archaeologists also have a more self-serving reason to engage with the public than simply responding to demand. The Council for British Archaeology (CBA) was founded in 1944, and one of its first acts was to set up a subcommittee to produce a report on archaeological education. At a time when there were very few employed archaeologists, there was a great need to secure state funding for the discipline. In a democratic society, it is essential to have strong public support as a way of persuading politicians to provide such funding, and the CBA stated this very clearly in the report of the subcommittee:

Furthermore it may be urged that unless a larger section of the British public is brought to take an intelligent interest in archaeology, our science will continue to be handicapped by ignorance, apathy and obstructionism in the post-war world and to find difficulty in obtaining state or other financial assistance for research. It is therefore of the utmost importance to the Council to promote archaeological studies in general education. (Dobson et al. 1944)

Thirty one years later, Professor John Evans became the Chairman of the new CBA Education Board, as well as becoming Director of the Institute of Archaeology in London. In his inaugural lecture as Director, he not only provided a restatement of the need for archaeological education, but also raised the issue of what archaeology contributed to society.

Despite its great and growing popularity it seems to me that archaeology is still a widely misunderstood subject (not least by some of its friends, and even of its practitioners), and as a result of this it is still far from having achieved the place, either in formal education or in the general consciousness of society, to which its achievements, and its relevance to our human condition, entitle it. (Evans 1975)

Moving on another thirty one years, what John Evans said still has a great deal of force. Archaeology is greatly misunderstood.

Why has archaeology not yet achieved the recognition it deserves? It could be argued that this is because of the educational model adopted for its transmission to the public. It is understandable that archaeology often comes to public attention through its discoveries. Tutankhamen, Ötzi, the terracotta warriors, for example, are all spectacular. The main product of archaeology is the sites that people can visit and the artifacts they go to see in a museum. The past is then seen as something that is made up of tangible facts we can know about. The archaeologist is the expert specialist who can tell people about the minute details of stone tools or big developments like human evolution. Our teaching and presentational practice reflect this. We tell people about the past. We present our finds and our narratives assuming they will be absorbed into people’s minds and enrich their knowledge of the world. Modern archaeological theory has challenged this model. However, much of the theoretical debates in archaeology have focused on how we do archaeology and how we interpret our findings – epistemology and hermeneutics – rather than why we do archaeology in the first place (as in the debates between the New Archaeology and postmodern approaches, e.g., Gamble 2001; Hodder 1986; Yoffee and Sherratt 1993). Only politically committed archaeologists whose perspectives derive from a critique of modern western society have sought to explore potential uses for archaeology (e.g., Shanks and Tilley 1987). We seldom give people a sense of what the purpose is for our work; why they should be bothered to listen to us. In other words, we have failed to explain why archaeology matters, and if it does not matter then we can hardly complain if our discipline has failed to achieve what we see as its rightful place in society.

Archaeological education in the widest sense is a means of reaching out, of communicating with people. This often takes place within the formal constraints of a school curriculum or university course, and can also happen in less formal situations as part of our site displays, museum exhibitions, and public events. Good archaeological education should include the imparting of knowledge, increasing people’s understanding and the development of their own skills (Fig. 16.4). In spite of the developments in modern archaeological theory, which reflect postmodernist approaches to knowledge as being contingent on current and ever-changing perspectives, there is a body of knowledge in archaeology. People can learn about the past. Christopher Hawkes’s famous ladder of inference (Hawkes 1954) may be in need of repair, yet there is still a great deal of truth in the idea that we can know a great deal about past technology and even economy. We can know, and infer, something about past society, but know only a little about religious practice but even less about spiritual beliefs. Archaeologists can often tell us what-happened-when, albeit with a degree of fuzziness at the edges. However, this is not all archaeology has to offer. The past is there not only for our amusement, but also as part of a store of wisdom on which we can draw to help inform our lives and our decisions for the future. A nineteenth-century Prime Minister, William Gladstone, made the point in a speech in 1879, saying that “… the errors of former times are recorded for our instruction, in order that we may avoid their repetition …” (Gladstone 1879). He may have been referring to past written histories but nevertheless his view can apply to all the past, however recovered. To learn from the past is fundamentally a political act, and perhaps this is why archaeologists as scholars have been wary about stating this openly as a reason for their existence. Learning from the past is much more challenging than simply describing the past. This is where archaeology shows its relevance to the present. Yet, how often do archaeologists actually stand up and say how what they do helps us understand the present. The World Archaeological Congress (WAC) has been a notable exception, providing a forum for politically engaged archaeology (Gero 1999, 2000; Shepherd 2005). However, it is hard to think in Britain of archaeologists who are providing public voices on issues like human rights, asylum seekers or environmental change.

Fig. 16.4

An archaeological education

What can we learn through archaeology? There are perhaps four broad themes that we can explore. First, archaeology is the study of the past, and that means the study of time. The archaeological record provides snapshots of human behavior at successive points in time. Through this, we can provide insights into how human behavior has changed over long time periods. An example might be the development of hierarchy and social stratification in human society, or the different roles of women and men which can throw into relief our assumptions about our own society today. Second, archaeologists study the whole of human life, and it is immediately apparent that the world has seen an enormous variety in forms of cultural expression and human behavior. At a time when increasing global transport and communications are reducing variety, preserving the knowledge of different ways of doing things is valuable in itself. From this, we can learn to appreciate difference and perhaps use the past as inspiration for creating new forms of expression (such as ancient forms inspiring modern pottery), or rediscover past technologies that could be updated for the modern world: for example, irrigation systems. Our modern world is a product of the industrial revolution and is a very recent development in human history. Third, given that most human life has occurred in economies bound to the natural world much more closely than we are now, it is inevitable that archaeologists also study the changing relationships that people have had with their natural environment. The impact of early farming on vegetation and soils and the impact of changing climate on human settlement are important subjects of archaeological study. What could be more relevant at a time of global climate change? Finally, to study the human past is to study ourselves; to realize what it is that makes us human, and that we all share an ultimately common humanity. There have been archaeologists, and still are, who are seduced by nationalist and racist ideologies, and use their archaeology to bolster extreme views. However, the greatest thing we can learn from our past is that we share a common identity. Underneath the varied patterns of human culture, lies a basic unity of behavior and shared experiences. At a time when our television news screens deliver an almost daily diet of inhumanity by people to each other; this is surely something worth stating over and over again.

The utility of archaeology goes further than helping inform our social and political ideas. The remains of the past still exist in the UK as part of the present, a historic environment. This is a heritage belonging to all who live in the UK. It forms the space within which they live and work. Enabling people to care for that heritage should be an important part of our work as archaeologists. The buildings, streets, and fields where we live form an important part of our identity, as do the style and type of artifacts, art and designs we surround ourselves with. The relationship of the past to our identity is a complex one. In the UK, there need not be a direct inherited sense of creation or ownership of the past. There is no necessary connection between the culture and identity of the English of today and of the people who built Stonehenge, yet most people would recognize Stonehenge as an iconic part of England’s heritage. More importantly, most people have a local attachment to where they live, which helps give them a strong sense of identity. This is important in a country like the UK, where there are strong differences between regions within a small area. The varied historic environment is a strong contributor toward the sense of place, and toward making places attractive to live in. In a MORI opinion survey taken in 2003, 82% of people asked said that the buildings in their local area were important parts of their heritage (Robinson and Kaur-Ballagan 2004). That heritage often has economic value. Tourist income forms a large part of the UK’s national income. Over 4% of the working population work directly in tourism, the UK attracts 32 million of foreign visitors a year, and the economic value of tourism was £16.3 billion (VisitBritain 2009). Heritage conservation can be an important basis for economic regeneration. For example, a run-down area of the northern English town of Hartlepool is the site of the early nineteenth-century warship HMS Trincomalee. The restoration of the warship provided 750,000 man-hours of local skilled employment, £8 million was spent in the local economy during the restoration, and the ship attracts 350,000 visitors a year to the area (Catling 2004).

Of course, archaeologists use a wide range of skills in their work. These are valuable in their own right and can give people a sense of empowerment and involvement. For example, we can teach people about the need for evidence to back up knowledge and ideas, and about how to analyze evidence. We can teach how to manage heritage and resolve conflicts over its use. By giving people archaeological investigation skills, we enable them to take part for themselves. Anyone can run an archaeological excavation in England, Scotland, and Wales. There are no licenses needed, and the only official permission needed is for excavation on Scheduled Ancient Monuments. Provided the landowner agrees, amateur archaeological groups can, and do, run their own excavations and research projects. The CBA has as its slogan “archaeology for all,” and its mission is to support wider public participation in archaeology. Archaeology is not just excavation though. People can learn to look at, analyze, and understand for themselves urban and rural landscapes they live in. This helps to create a lively sense of community among them, nurtures a strong pride in their identities and localities, and provides the historic environment with champions who care deeply about its maintenance and future. The MORI poll of 2003 found 92% of people thought that it was important to keep historic features wherever possible when trying to improve villages, towns, and cities (Robinson and Kaur-Ballagan 2004). There are many hundreds of local archaeological societies, metal detecting clubs, and heritage groups. There are also growing numbers of community archaeologists to help support these. There may be less than 6,000 professional archaeologists in the UK, but there are many more people involved as amateurs actively engaged in archaeological research or managing heritage.

The professional archaeologists have the skills, equipment, expertise, and knowledge. They also can listen to what the people have to say about their heritage. We are invaders into their territory. The heritage we investigate is not national – it is local. The meaning of that heritage comes from the feelings of the people who live and work in it and near it. We need to listen and ask them what they think we should be preserving and investigating. The amateurs have enthusiasm, local knowledge, and often their own nonarchaeological skills which are of immense value. They also have their own attitudes to the past, and their notions as to what that past was like. They may also have ideas about the place of heritage that may be at odds with that of the archaeologists. For example, although Britain is a largely Christian country, there are growing numbers of people who call themselves pagans, following what they believe to be an older strand of spirituality more akin to pre-Christian religious beliefs. For these groups, prehistoric sites like stone circles are places they hold as sacred, with a meaning in their religion. This is most likely not the same as the original meaning of those sites to the original builders, but as archaeologists we should respect how people see and use sites in the present.

However, this does raise a complex issue. As archaeologists, we deal with physical evidence from the past and seek to make sense of it to reveal as much as we can of the past lives and behaviors of those who left that evidence behind. In spite of the postmodernist attacks on scientific and scholarly methods, very few archaeologists would accept a position of complete hermeneutic relativism (Johnson 1999: chapter 11), even those who espoused philosophical idealism (Collingwood 1994 [1946]) or its later offspring contextual archaeology (Hodder 1986). However, postmodern attitudes have permeated widely through the discipline and have become hotly debated (e.g., Holtorf 2000; McManamon 2000a, b). If we cannot be certain about an interpretation of the past or of a site, and if there may be more than one possible interpretation of the evidence, it does not mean that all interpretations are potentially valid. In the case of the modern pagans, it is their use of the sites that is respected, rather than their interpretations of the sites. No archaeologist would surely accept the views of Erich von Däniken in the 1970s that ancient sites were created by alien astronauts. Likewise, the work of Dan Brown in writing The Da Vinci Code of 2003 cannot be accepted as history but is a work of fiction. If archaeology and heritage management are to mean anything, then they must mean a respect for the evidence. By respecting the evidence of physical remains, we respect the people who left those remains behind. They can no longer tell their story directly to us, but their lives continue to have meaning through the work we do in seeking to understand their societies. In our own way, we commemorate them when we investigate their sites. By conserving and managing their remains, we keep alive their memory and provide monuments to untold generations of men, women, and children. Archaeological education should enable people today to connect with people in the past. This connection will be one of respect, not of misuse, if that connection is made with a proper appreciation for the limitations of the evidence. If people’s understanding of the past respects that evidence, then people will be giving due respect to the people who left that evidence behind. In the UK, the Pagan Federation is member of the Ancient Sacred Landscape Network (ASLaN). The ASLaN charter promotes physical respect for sacred sites in a way which enables them to be conserved for future generations. Most archaeologists would not share their interpretations of prehistoric ritual and belief, and yet they would work with them to promote heritage conservation. In the UK, we are lucky in that we do not face problems of conflicting claims of “ownership” of sites or remains by indigenous peoples, whose mythical pasts are very real and alive to them, and an essential part of their cultural identities. As archaeologists, we must find ways of accepting alternative claims while at the same time insisting on the validity of the past in its own right. It was Sir Mortimer Wheeler who said the archaeologist excavates people not things (Wheeler 1954).

(T)he archaeological excavator is not digging up things, he is digging up people; however, much he may analyze and tabulate and dessicate (sic) his discoveries in the laboratory, the ultimate appeal across the ages, whether the time-interval be 500 or 500,000 years, is from mind to intelligent mind, from man to sentient man. (Wheeler 1954: 17)

To respect the evidence is to respect the people who created it. That should be the ultimate aim for archaeologists, and it should also be a worthy aim for the people who live with the remains of the past today. If what we do as archaeologists is to study people and places in the past, we do this for people in places in the present. There is no contradiction in this, and yet many archaeologists forget this to their shame.