dodd controlling the past owning the future chapter 1

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CONTROLLING THE PAST, OWNING THE FUTURE The Political Uses of Archaeology in the Middle East

Edited by Ran Boytner, Lynn Swartz Dodd, and Bradley J. Parker

The University of Arizona Press Tucson


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The University ofArizona Press 2010 The Arizona Board of RegentsAll rights reservedwvvw.uapress.ariz(ma.eduLibrary ofCongress Cataloging-in-Publication DataControlling the past, owning the future : the political uses of archaeology in theMiddle East / edited by Ran Boytner, Lynn Swartz Dodd, and Bradley J. Parker.

p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-8165-2795-3 (hard cover: alk. paper) 1. Archaeology-Political aspects-Middle East. 2. Archaeology and state

Middle East. 3. Middle East-Antiquities-Political aspects. 4. MiddleEast-Antiquities-Collection and preservation. 5. Cultural propertyProtection-Middle East. 6. Cultural property-Government policy-Middle East. 7. Nationalism-Middle East-History. I. Boytner, Ran,1962- II. Dodd, Lynn Swartz, 1964- III. Parker, Bradley J.. 1962DS56.C625 2010

363.6' 90956--


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Contents

Acknowledgments VI11 Filtering the Past: Archaeology, Politics, and Change 1

Lynn Swartz Dodd and Ran Roytner2 Heritage Politics: Learning from Mullah Omar? 27

Reinhard Bernbeck3 Archaeology and Nationalism in Iraq, 1921-2003 55

Magnus T. Bernhardsson4 Political Excavations of the Anatolian Past: Nationalism and

Archaeology in Turkey 68 Ash Gur

5 By the Rivers of Change: Strategists on the Heritage Front 9 0 Sandra Scham

6 Undermining the Edifice of Ethnocentric Historical Narrative in Israel with Community-Based Archaeology 103 David [Ian and Yuval Gadot

7 Who Owns the Past? The Role of Nationalism, Politics, and Profit in Presenting Israel's Archaeological Sites to the Public 123 Ann E. Killebrew

v


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vi Ctmtents

8 Heritage Appropriation in the Holy Land 1+2 Add H. Yahya

9 Exploring Heritage Discourses in Central Jordan 159 Danielle Steen, Jennifer Jacl1hs, Benjamin Porter, atld Bruce RoutJet{qe

10 From Practical Knowledge to Empowcn. .-d Communication: Field Schools of the Suprcme Council of Antiquities ill Egypt 178 Willeke Wendrich

11 Decolonizing Archaeology: Political Economy and Archaeological Practice in the Middle East 196 Susan Pollock

12 We Are All Middle Easterners Now: Globalization, Immanence, Archaeology 217 Yannis Hamilakis

13 Potential Abuses and Uses of the Remote Past in the Middle East (and Elsewhere) 230 Philip L. KohlNotes 2+9 Bibliography 257 About the Editors 30[ About the Contributors 303 Index 307


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II Filtering the Past

ARCHAEOLOGY, I ~ L I T I C S , AND CHANGELynn Swartz Dodd and Ran Boytner

WE DO NOT KNOW when someone first held up an ancient ohjectto tell a story ahout it. Neither arc we certain when the disl.;pline ofarchaeology was actually born. But we do know that the past has been a buildingblock in social discourse f()r thousands of years. During the sixth centuryBCE archaeological work was under way at the ancient site of Larsa inwhat is today modern Iraq. Royally sanctioned excavations allowed a newtemple to align with one built generations earlier. That search for tangibleremains of the past was recorded on bricks used to rebuild the temple onbehalfof the Babylonian king. The inscriptions are a display of his legitimacy claims before the people and the sun god, showing his intense desireto establish a dynastic continuity that reached back to the founder of theBabylonian dynasty, Hammurabi (1792-1750 BeE):

I t was thus that in the year 10, on a favorable day of my reign, during my eternal royalty beloved by Shamash, Shamash remembered hisformer dwelling; he happily decided from his chapel on the zigguratto re-establish, better than before and it is to me, King Nabonidus,his provider, to whom he entrusted the task of restoring the E-babbarand remaking his house of dilection .

. . . the eternal holy place, the eternal chamber appeared thetemenos; their plan become visible. I read there the inscription of theancient king Hammurabi . . . my tasks became clear and I set aboutmobilizing workers . . . holding the pick, carrying the shovel, movingthe basket. . . . Specialists examined the setting where the temenoshad been found to understand its decoration.

I placed bricks upon the temenos. . . . I rebuilt this temple in theancient style and I decorated its structure.


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That which W.IS not accorded to Jny king, my great lord, ShaIll


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3iltering the Past

in daily lite, and navigations through the communicative structures ofsociety among other people (whether these arc real or, increasingly t()rsome, virtual beings) creates our place in the world, our perspective ofwhere we have been and where we will deign to go.

This introduction first defines the archaeologically tC:lUnded past thatconcerns LIS and then considers past research. In order to look t()rward tothe tilture relevance ofOllr production as archaeologists, we tC:>ClIS on theextraordinary contingency of social communication in which the inter-action of people with objects (including other people) creates fields tc:)rreflecti(m, memory, emotion, and persuasion in our public and privatelives. We consider appropriations of the archaeological past as an inten-tional process of social communication that otlcrs archaeologists a wayto understand the manit()ld outcomes and responsibilities engendered byarchaeological practice.

Everywhere around us changes in the usc of the past are occurring,and the past is being used to create social change (e.g., sec Hamilakisand Duke 2007; Kohl and Rao in press; Meskell, ed. 1998; Silverman andRuggles 2007; Voss 2008). If this ubiquity is allowed to be an excusefor avoiding penetrat ing analysis, then we lose a significant opportunityto understand the implications of archaeological praxis. Even worse, wewould ignore and remain unint()rmed by one of the most significantunderpinnings fi)r archaeological work today: its relevance to contempo-rary communities not only as a marker ofwhere we as human communi-ties have been but also as a harbinger ofwhere we may go (the sectionsin Insoll 2006 focusing on age, the body, and caste are illustrative).

The personal perspective is visible in this edited volume, where eachcontribution reflects the distinctive opinions of its author( s). We fullyexpect that these contributions will be perceived as biased perspectives,which is how we understood them, whether or not we agreed with everyauthor. The contributions to this volume are emblematic of the need torradical contextualization of interpretations of the past. We encouragedthe authors to include personal explanations in their contributions wherethey felt these were relevant, and all were asked to provide a summarybiographical statement in order to allow readers to contextualize theircontributions. To the extent that authors wished to participate in thisprocess ofenabling readers to understand the personal authorial context,summaries have been included.


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be presented as persllasive evidence. rinally, the physical nature of thearchaeological record otlers ready, dear visuals that can rapidly turn intopowertlll symbols to illustrate a political message. The apparent "'realness" of the archaeological past is one reason why it is potentially sopowerful. The m : : h a c o l o g i c . : a l past can function as an evidentiary rderent,lending an air ofobjectivity or scientific support to a presentation or to agroup's agenda (sec discussion in Rowlands 2006).

Existing Research into Uses of the FastInitially, social scientists believed that the past-and a reliance on it asa source of unity in modern nation-statl."S-was an integral part of anysocial organization. The past was viewed as the origin place of a group'sunique cultural identity. In this view the past was "'primordial," and thefeatures of the past and of group identity were understood to be essential and immutable. This primordial past was present in inherited myths,symbols, and material remains to torm the basis of group identity. Latertheoretical shifts moved the debate in more critical directions so thatinstead of seeing the past based on the past, it became viewed as constructed through a manipulation ofits components and through an interpretation of its meaning t{)r current political goals (e.g., Lewis I975). Thepast is now widely understood to be an instrument of modern political aspirations and needs (sec Eriksen 1993; Hamilakis and Duke 2007;Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983; Meskell and Pels 2005; Smith 1987). PhilipKohl explains:

The relationship of archaeology to nationalism is changing. Historically, archaeologists have helped to underwrite many nationalistprograms, according historical significance to visible material remainswithin national territory. They arc still playing this role throughoutmany areas of the world. Today, however, some arc critically examining how archaeological data are manipulated for nationalist purposes,while others arc celebrating the inevitable political nature of the discipline and promoting alternative indigenous reconstructions of theremote past [(998:225-226].

Hence, the list of those who have sought to tollow strategies similar tothat used by King Nabonidus (sec above) is now viewed as a very long


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one indeed. Researchers in diverse disciplines, including political science,sociology.. and history, have investigated the lise of the past in the ancientand modern present, including its role within mythical pasts in modern nation-states (see Abu El-Haj 1998, 200,; Brass 1991; Geurds 2007;Hamilakis 2000; Jotfe 2007; Killebrew et al. 2009; Lewis 1975; Schnapp1996; Shavit 1996, 1997; Silberman and Small 1997; Tait 2003; Trigger1984, 1995). Among these publications is an implicit suggestion that theappropriation of archaeological materials is a characteristic of modernsocieties. We would be hard-pressed [0 find any modern society or nationin which there was no manipulation of or recourse to a sense of the pastor to aspects of the past.

A well-documented category of the appropriation of the past is the uscof the archaeological record for the support of national claims. Nationstates, a fundamental building block of the modern world, arc a relativelynew phenomenon. Around the world both established states and aspiringethnic groups strive to legitimize their claims t(.)f sovereignty by seekingindependent, defensible evidence supporting their right to space and land(tt:)r a succinct, excellent discussion, see Smith 2001). While the nation-stateis a modern Western construct, groups around the world have adopted theconcept-willingly or not-and have used it successfully in their attempts toestablish politicailegitimal:Y and independence. The role of archaeology inthe legitimization ofthe Israeli nation-state and the appropriation ofarchaeology of the Great Zimbabwe or during the recent struggles over Kosovostand as representative examples tor such mobilizations of the archaeological record (see Kuklick 1991; Lowenthal 200[; Pollock and Bernbeck, eds.2005; Shavit 1997; Silberman 1990b, [993b; Smith 1987; Trigger 1984). Inthe last few decades alone this list has been growing at an astonishing rateas innovative research has been published widely on this subject (e.g., seeAbu EI-Haj 2001; Atkinson et aI. 1996; Babadzan 2000; Bond and Gilliam1994; Diaz-Andreu and Champion 1996; Diaz-Andreu et al. 2006; Dietler1994; Glock 1992, 1994; Hamilakis 1996; Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983;Hodder et aI. 1995; Killebrew and Lehmann 1999; Kohl and Fawcett, cds.1995; Kohl and Rao in press; Lewis 1975; Lowenthal 1985, 1990; Meskell,ed. 1998, 2001; Meskell and Pels 2005; Plumb 1969; Podgorny 1990; Pollock and Bernbeck, eds. 2005; Said 1979; Scham 1998, 200la; Scham andYahya 2003; Shavit 1991, 1997; Silberman 1989, 1993a, 1995a, 1995b; Silverman 2002b; Smith and Wobst 2005; Snead 1999; Trigger 1984, 1995).


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During the 1990S there was a substantial increase in the number ofpublications i n v e ~ l i g a t i n g the political uscs of ardueology t


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within the discipline 'H.ivoCf.lteu 'lCtivist engagements. The establishmentof the radical journal Public Archm:olol1.'Y is elnblematic of this interest(e.g., see Bernbeck 200,b; Diaz-Andreu et al. 2006; Hamilakis 200,a;Shepherd 200,:1, 2007; Tarlow 2001).

An even more- radical movement developed in which ethical codes areseen as fundamentally biased and in need of alteration. These scholarssee asymmetrical relationships between the dominant West and the suppressed Other (see HamiIakis and Duke 2007; Meskdl and Pels 2005).This work is especially well known in European scholarly circk-s, butits rhetoric has been cautiously received in mainstream North Americanarchaeological discourse. Nonetheless, its critique and methodology provide a convenient framework to examine appropriation processes of thearchaeological record (e.g., see Kohl 1993, 1998, 2004-; Silverman 2002a,2oo2b; Trigger 1984-, 1995).

Critique of Existing ResearchArchaeological analysis involves evaluating data derived from studies ofmaterial that usually is ancient but may still be relevant and in use. Studies of the past, whether led by academics or by others, rely on selecteddata. Those data are collected because they are deemed to be relevant tothe mission of the body undertaking the research; therefore, the studycan be understood as a forward-looking backward glance (e.g., Wildung2003). Intellectual interest in the political appropriation of the archaeological past creates an opportunity for a critical examination of the rangeof such appropriations and the methods by which they are deployed invarious cultural settings. For instance, people who would use the pastmay have an interest in creating a perception of the past and its conditions as primordial, with long histories shared uniformly by members ofwhole constituencies. Thus, the use of the past is rendered as monolithicand static. Where research echoes the intended perception, rather thande mystifYing the processes of appropriation, it becomes impossible totrack and explore parallel social identities that are dynamically shifting asactors negotiate diverse social roles (at work to subordinates and bosses,at home to spouse, among friends, at a public presentation, etc.).

We believe that the more reflective approaches better take into accountthe dynamic nature ofappropriations. Such approaches should be attentive


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9ilrering the Past

to sources and processes of change, emphasizing the coexistence of mul-tiple voices within hrroups, each competing f()r the ability to appropriatethe past to achieve specific politic.ll goals. We also believe that as indi-viduals live, they embody different roles and inhahit the varied identitiesthat constitute their whole personhood. In this process appropriations ofthe past will shih to serve these diverse roles.

This is an important research endeavor because the existence of lllul-tiple personal identities creates social venues t()r multiple uses of the pastand its tangible remains throughout society. The fact that the archaeo-logical past is used in a multiplicity of ways and may occur in all socialdomains creates an inherently dynamic situation. lnherent in this dyna-mism is the reality of continual social hecoming and transt(>rtning. Newvoices can-and do--emerge from existing social groups. New voicesmay advocate f()r conflict and resist suhordination, or they may advo-cate avenues of coexistence and cooperation. In our view these dynamicnegotiations and their role in social transt()rmation have been underem-phasized and undervalued in research thus far.

There are many potential ends toward which social groups mayengage the memories and beliefs of their constituency through the use ofthe archaeological past (for diverse and recent examples, see Abu EI- Haj2007; Cross 2006 ; Lippert 2008; Lucero 2007; Shepherd 2007; Sofaer2006 , 2007; Voss 2006 , 2008) . The range of parties active in appropria-tion of the past can be substantial within any given cultural situation. Itis difficult to imagine how a single research enterprise could capture thefull range, unless an army of researchers works synchronically, like poll-sters who are mobiJized for political surveys. However, recognizing theinnumerable arenas in which people consider and respond to referencesto the past and its material remains is a first step. This recognition posi-tions the researcher to more efTectively evaluate the shifting ground anddivergent positions being espoused by groups that initially seem similar.This kind of sensitivity oilers the opportunity to understand, identity,challenge, or possibly harness the diverse filters through which the pastis being appropriated.

In accepting the appropriation of the past as a dynamic endeavor, thefoundation is laid for assessing the mechanism by which the past is aftectedby or impacts social change. Appropriations of the past and its tangibleremains shift to accommodate power relations between established and
http:///reader/full/politic.llhttp:///reader/full/politic.ll


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emerging political agendas. We see uses of the past as pointers to com-peting visions of the future both individual and group levels.

Mobilizing the Past: An AnalyticalFranlework linking the Past to Its Usesin the PresentWe take seriously the caution that simple explanations inadequately reflecttrue complexities, especially when they relate to appropriations of thepast (Brown and Hamilakis 2003a:13). Our goal is not to discard ( ) c c a m ~ srazor by overlooking elegant and siml'}le solutions in favor of torturedand complex ones. A fundamental point is that the past and, more par-

t i c u l a r l y ~ its tangible remains become important in the context of socialdiscourse. An interpretive tramework is dlcctive if it assists in elucidat-ing the fluidity of the relationships between the material past and thepolitical present. Anyone or any group in a society may have recourseto the past te)r their agenda (Erll et al. 2008). Shifts in appropriations ofthe archaeological past take place as power relations within and outsidegroups evolve. Social changes and changes in the use of the archaeologi-cal past occur as difterent agendas gain ground over others. Essentially,we are asserting a model structured by multivocality, which in itselfis notnew territory. It is worth stressing it anyway because this is a teature thatmakes the use of the past possible, relevant, and productive.

We see appropriations of the archaeological past as acts of social com-munication designed to accrue benefits to particular groups. This processoperates constantly in multiple, parallel, and often competing tracks. As a .continuous and dynamic process, the shape and nature of the dominantposition within eachgroup is altered along with the legitimacy and accep-tance of any particular appropriation. All the contributors to this vol-ume provide evidence of this kind of transformation; additionally, someactively created structural opportunities tor its occurrence (see WillekeWendrich, Danielle Steen et al., Ann E. Killebrew, and David Han andYuval Gadot).

The mechanisms through which appropriations of the past take placecan be understood and examined with a social communication modelin the context of collective memory employed within a multidirectionalmatrix of communicative action. In this way appropriations of the past


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can be more intelligibly interpreted as sociological phenomena. This isone of the reasons why the contribution by Ash Giir in this volume isparticularly relevant, because she comes to this project with an explicitlysociological perspective. The concept of collective memory was developed by the rrench sociologist Maurice Halbwachs during the first quarter of the twentieth century (Halbwachs 1992). At the time contemporarypsychologists claimed that individuals are born with a set, predisposedmemory where memory itself is related to an ethnic, racial, and biological matrix. (n other words, they suggested that individuals are bornwith some sort of essential biological or racial memory. Halbwachs tooka contrary position. He suggested that memory was mediated throughsocial interactions.

Memory, defined as the hllman vision of the past, is constructed inrdation to others. Specifically, the various groups in which individualsoperate create experiences of relating. This occurs through actions andinteractions that are embodied and perceived in the brain as the personencounters and interacts with an object or any outside otherness, including other people within whatever group may t()rm at a particular moment(Damasio 1999). Cultural memory and, by extension, the subset of collective memory based on an archaeological past is always constituted incommunication with others. I tis, theret(}re, eftective to examine the liseof the archaeological past as a teature of social discourse and of communications that individuals usc to project themselves to others. One hardlyneeds to point out the political nature of communications in which oneprojects oneself to others. Contributors to this volume explore this territory in manitold ways, including from the perspective of projection usedin creating a national understanding (such as Magnus T. Bernhardssonexamines in Iraq and as Philip L. Kohl has detailed in the Caucasus) orfi'om the perspective of dialogue with a debated otherness (as capturedby Sandra Scham and also by Adel H. Yahya).Jan Assmann has clearly articulated that the "'"others arc other peoplein groups who conceive of their unity and peculiarity through a common image of their past" (1995:127). This applies to a diverse range ofsocial groups, which may begin with families and extend to neighbors,trade associations, religious affiliations, political parties, citizens of states,and even whole nations. At any given time the individual belongs tonumerolls groups and thus "entertains numerolls collective self-images


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and memories" (Assmann 1995:127). Brown and Hamilakis (2oo3a) suggest that at least some collective llK'111ories are t'(mned as utopias withdreamlike qualities. They claim that because dreams are iconographicin nature, monumcnts--cspecially ancient ones-supply the icons andillustrate depth and tradition. It is the appropriation of archaeologicalremains in connection to icons ofmemory that is our chief concern here.Advocating t()r ll1ultivocality in training (as modeled by Willeke Wendrich) may also prestige a particular set of voices, ones that may developincreasing control in a postcolonial constnIct.

There are many uses of the archaeological past at any given time.These come from ditlcrent perspectives to suit the needs ofdiftcrcnt usersor groups. Social actors arc continuously moving the dialogue in variousdirections. \Vhile Hamilakis (1996, 2007) suggested that sllch a processmay lead to increased sophistication and is a top-down phenomenon, webelieve that the process can also move in other directions. Appropriations of the past may occur within either complex or simple systems andgroups. Additionally, they may originate at the "bottom" in terms ofsociopolitical power, gaining support to topple dominant narratives.

Collective memory may be differentiated from communicative memory. Like collective memory, communicative memory is a cultural view ofthe past. However, communicative memory is primarily constituted byorally transmitted facts. It is characterized by a limited temporal depthof 80-100 years and covers no more than two or three generations intothe past (Niethammer 1993). Communicative memory is tounded on personal recollection and is dependent on the attestation of living witnessesor on repetition ofa direct testimony. Even in societies wherein oral transmission is the default mode of documenting socially significant information, there is a difference between hearing about an experience-froma participant or as hearsay-and the potentially more pervasive qualityof collective memory. Whether we are talking about literate or illiterate societies, such a memory may be transmitted forward in time. Thetransmission may exceed the human lifespan, as the temporal horizon ofcommunicative memory continually fades and is re-formed as time passes(Assmann 1995). There are fewer perceived constraints on communicativememory because of the possibility of living witnesses to revise memories.

Communicative memory may eventually be transtormed into collective memory, a memory based on archaeological remains. It will then


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filtl'ring thl' Past 13become less susceptible to being dismantled or assemhled freely. That isnot to say that people may not take liberties with interpretation of thearchaeologically fC)l)nded past. On the contrary, historical cases indicatethe opposite. But as a matter of perception it may be more ditlicult toalter existing explanations when they are anchored in material evidence.This difliculty may arise not as a matter of fact but as a matter of argu-ment, because one participant can point to material remains as supportt()r his or her claim. One explanation of the archaeological past may beevaluated against another and so gain or lose adherents who care aboutthe correspondence between evidence and interpretation. It is this cor-respondence between material and narrative that leads Philip Kohl ([998)to suggest that there ought to be a limit to the varieties of lIses ofthe pastthat we arc willing to embrace.

Alterations to collective memory may also be constrained by logis-tics, by the practical mechanics of social communication. Any changesin appropriations of the archaeological past must be broadcast through-out the community and then adopted. This involves cost and access toan internal communication mechanism and implies the expenditure ofpolitical capital to ensure that the perspective is heard in order to con-vince community members to change perceptions. This may not be aneasy task, especially in a bottom-up process wherein access to commu-nication channels is proscribed. Still, with f()Cused, intentional efforts,the archaeological past is malleable and flexible in this direction as well.Finally, so too are the personal and cultural identities that emerge tromsocially mediated collective memories. Thus, the entire system by its verynature is characterized by dynamism at different scales. An archaeologi-cally based past may seem stable and supported, but it must be under-stood as constantly exposed to potential molding through the pressureof social discourse.

There is a political potential inherent in archaeological work becausematerial objects can be moved easily from the physical to the symbolicrealm. Material objects may become politicized in a manner not antici-pated by their original makers or the archaeologists who excavate them.In choosing to resort to the archaeological past, actors are gauging theiraudience and trying to frame a message that the audience wilJ believe inand act in response to. Jurgen Habermas (2001) codified the ability ofa group-often elites-to mobilize an audience to action or to elicit a


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specific political response in the concept of communic 1tive action. Anyuserofan an.-haeologically t(mnded past filters that past by presenting onlythe portion that is relevant to a specific agenda. This concept of activefiltering of the past is central to the cases presented in this volume.

The conceptual framework t


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Another obvious domain is the pressure of development in a landscapethat contains known and unknown an.:haeological materials.

In the region dealt with in this volume burgeoning population is oneof the reasons t()r the destruction of archaeological material data. Thisdoes not merely mean that archaeological sites are being covered by thetarmac of parking lots. Across the region agricultural demands grow,glving incentive to those who would flatten archaeological sites in orderto increase arable land. As populations move to cities, settlements expandinto new areas. Apartment blocks built on deep t()lmdations are appearing rapidly in the once sparsely settled areas around cities. War, repressive regimes, and the imposition of international sanctions can LTeatedire economic conditions and insecurity that provide an incentive or anopportunity t()r removing material from archaeological sites. When this isdone without archaeological documentation or in the absence ofpermission of a national government, this is characterized as looting the site.

There is little dispute that most archaeological sites are being investigated (torn apart) by people who will never read this book. The existenceof buyers t()r ancient objects, both where the object is found and in thedeveloped world beyond, is a major incentive for people to mine ancientsites, museums, and storerooms. In this last case the object itself is notlost and indeed may be made accessible in new ways, but usually the dataabollt its context are compromised if not actually lost or reimagined torvarious reasons. In this last case a talse filter is placed on the archaeological past. Meanwhile, buyers of such artifacts create, curate, and encourage a valuing of the past represented by the objects in their collection.Anumber of the more significant collectors are also connected to museumsthat function as cultural arbiters. This indicates to their audiences whatart or what material remains of the past are worthy ofcuratorial attention.In an extended way art institutions encourage a climate ofpositive assessment or negative assessment ofparticular pasts. The public that votes andmakes political contributions then receives these social messages.

Yahya's concern about the looting going on in the West Bank is relevant here. In spite of the practical reality of the antiquities market andthe problem of en torcement, the antiquities authorities in Israel, Jordan,and the Palestinian occupied territories (both an Israeli and Palestinianauthority) do not sanction unofficial excavation. These excavations areillegal and are interpreted as looting, but such looting does not occur


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in a value-free environment. As YahY


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government, tourism, and natural resource sales are presently undefinedtor the Iraqi people and those living in Afghanistan.

War is among the most significant human actions in terms of its deleterious eHects on both lives and landscape, but it is not alone by anymeans. Large-scale landscape modifications can aftect lives and archat.'1>-logical remains in dramatic W.1YS 'lS well. This includes building highways,pipelines, and dams (among other trIllS of development). In hl! manterms slIch development projects displace, UPSL't, and sometimes disenfranchise people living in the aftected region. This impacts their live-lihood, property, and political influence while providing benefits to abroader community. For example, the ambitious Southeast AnatoliaDevelopment Project, initially undertaken in the mid-twentieth centuryto harness rivers in Turkey (stich as the Tigris and Euphrates), includesthe internationally contested Ihstl Dam. Like all dams, the IhsLl Dam willsubmerge and destroy modern and ancient habitation sites. Recognitionof this impending destruction provides both the national government andarchaeologists with incentives to survey and excavate archaeological sitesprior to their destruction. Such is the case tor two of this volume's editors(Dodd and Parker), whose excavation in this upper Tigris River valleyregion represents one of the longer-lived toreign research projects there.While rescuing archaeological data surely constitutes a positive aspect ofthis work, participation in salvage excavation is not unproblematic t(:>farchaeologists, as Hamilakis articulates in this volume. Archaeologistsconstitute a group (or groups) employing the archaeologically foundedpast f()r their own reasons. The various agendas relate to the expansion ofknowledge about our shared human past in an endeavor that is academicand scholarly in its motivation. Such agendas also support and expandaccess to the benefits derived from a political economy in which we asarchaeologists are embedded and on which our livelihoods depend (seePollock, this volume). In parallel, the national governments that engagein these kinds of landscape transtormations, which affect archaeologicaland modern landscapes, that is, the governments that sponsor development projects, also seek to ensure their internal public and internationalpartners that they have attended to the interests of the global humancommunity for whom these soon-to-be submerged or otherwise imperiled sites represent a portion of the shared past of humanity.

Egypt and Sudan are among those nations where massive developmentprojects and salvage research created a dramatically diflerent modern and


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archaeological landscape. When the Aswan Dam was huilt ticcades ago,Egypt and Sudan tumed to the international community t()f action, largelyhecause ofa dearth oflocal archaeological fimding and practitioners. Nowt()rty years later Egypt's national antiquities organization is reprising thisturn to outside practitioners. Wend rich argues that Eb'YPt's own nationalhodies arc now actively com hating certain status lluO teatures of Egyptology such as t{)reign agency in archaeological exploration in Egypt and themovement of antiquities outside Egypes borders. These arc now beingportrayed by the current leadership of the Supreme COUlKil ofAntiquitiesas


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filtering the Past 19

j t J h i l ~ ' Y t J , as both Bernhardsson and Stein et al. have made deart()r Iraqand Jordan, r e ~ ' P e c t i v e l y , in this volume. Indeed, as Bernbeck argues,there arc groups whose agenda actively opposes Western hegemonicinterests in uncovering the "'great" civilizations of the past that Westernculture otten looks to either as a wellspring t()r itself or as a model oflong-lived, seemingly ul1t.:ontested m.lstery of a landscape.

Assessing the tangible m;'lterial remains of the past as a shared oneor as a resource with curatorial merit t()r all humanity is a contested anddisputed endeavor outside the offices of UNESCO. Perspectives on thiscuratorial responsihility arc not univL'TSal. Bernhcck addresses an alternative to that position in his contribution about the challenging case ofthedestruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas. In a stunning episode of destruction the Taliban-led government ofAtghani stan asserted what Hamilakis(2004-) has suggested elsewhere-people's lives can matter more thanarchaeo1ogical remains.

The destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas is an example ofa top-downresponse to the tangible remains of the archaeological record with theintent of dramatically altering international social discourse, which thiscountry's leaders felt unable to effect otherwise. The largely Western viewthat tangible remains of the past have value and should be conserved canbe contrasted with a number ofother views about what constitutes appropriate curation. For example, in certain Native American cases the uscand the inevitable slow decline of objects may be seen to honor the pastand their sacredness more than an attempt to conserve an object outsideits use context (Baugher 2005; Douglass et al. 2005; Howe 2005; Swidlerand Yeatts 2005; also see Martinez 2006). Elsewhere, tangible remains ofthe past that come from periods that are assessed as less valuable may besubjected to different t reatment (al-Sayej in press; Yahya 2008). Examplesexist in the cases discussed by Yahya and by Bernbeck in which remains ofthe Islamic past are devalued or solely valued, respectively.Generally speaking, most archaeologists with whom the editors areacquainted are aware that their intellectual products might be used in various ways never imagined by them during excavation, study, and publication. Quite diverse audiences pay attention to our intellectual productionsor some filtered version of them that appears in the news, on television, orelsewhere. Scham and Giir both have provided perceptive examples of theways in which motits derived from the distant past filter tOrward through


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expressive media, arts, literature, poetry, and film. However, the resultcould hardly be more ditlerent between the two cases they discuss.

In Turkey the Blue Anatolia movement generated a r.lI1ge of ideasand concepts that now so pervasively infuse modern discourse that theyhave become disconnected from their originators entirely (Gur, this volume). In the same way we have adopted the term 1 1 1 ( } b a l i z a t i ( } 1 l despiteour distance from its origin among political and economic writers whowere publishing while John E Kennedy was in the White House (Simpson and Weiner 1989).

Some audiences may have an interest in archaeology fl)r the same reasons that archaeologists are interested, while others do not. But the veryexistence of an engaged public otters archaeologists a number of potential benefits, including the support oftaxpayers (Pollock, this volume). Italso ofTers a number of potential problems (Kohl, this volume). As Killebrew has documented in her essay, there has been a significant change inthe attention of the Israeli public to archaeology, their visits to archaeological sites, and their perception ofarchaeology's relevance to issues thatconcern Israelis in contemporary society. During the early, heady daysof the state of Israel, high-ranking military officers and administratorsencouraged Israelis to participate in archaeological projects. This situation has dramatically changed today (Killebrew, this volume). Indeed,public support for archaeology has so diminished that Ilan and Gadotnow actively invest professional time and funds in a project to gain theinvolvement of local people. These archaeologists are open to participants creating their own messages and connections to the archaeologicalmaterial being excavated (Hodder 1998, 2 0 0 0 ; see also Ilan and Gadot,this volume; Steen et aI., this volume).

Unlike the well-coordinated messages of early Israeli archaeology,when certain archaeologists very clearly linked their work to the claim ofthe people to the territory ofthe state of Israel and to resistance against itsenemies, Ilan and Gadot encourage a variety of interpretations and connections to their archaeological project. Indeed, today's earliest consumers ofdata are the workers from the local communities who participate inshort-term excavation episodes at the site of Modi'in. The involvementof a nearby community participating in an excavation adjacent to theircommunity is not accidental.


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People tell stories abollt places in which they have ;.111 interest and towhich they have a connection (Abu EI-Haj 2001, 2003; Dever 199sa, 1995b;Finkelstein and Silberman 2002; Marcus 2000; Silberman 1990a, 1999).This interest and impulse is shared by the Jord;.mi;.m villag(.."Ts whom Steenet al. have appro"1Cbed and interviewed in their archaeo-ethnographic project in Jordan. Similarly, Yahya recognizes that the Israelis have engagedthe archaeological past tar more sllccessfillly and systematic;.llly than thePalestinians have done, especially during the twentieth century. This is ameans of supporting Israeli national identity and international Jewish andChristian connc...Ctions in the area where the Palestinian Muslim and Christian Arabs are living in the West Bank and Gaza. Yahya argues that thePalestinians are still engaged in a struggle to develop and disseminate theirown version of the archaeological history of the country as part of establishing a national identity. for the Palestinians, crafting their connectionto a place also claimed by the Israelis as a biblical homeland is problematicon a number of levels. The Israelis already use the archaeological heritagein support oftheir claims, so this material needs to be reinterpreted withinthe Palestinian narrative or excluded f r o ~ it. Scham (2003) has shownhow the remains of the Iron Age linked to the Philistines and the remainsof the Bronze Age linked to the Canaanites otter the Palestinians theseproductive possibilities.

Yahya's view of the present use of the archaeological past in Israelis also instructive because it points to the existence of multiple tiers ofarchaeological production and reception. Yahya's perspective that "mostIsraeli historians have been geared primarily toward promoting Jewishclaims and establishing a Jewish national identity" stands in direct contradiction to Killebrew's assessment that "the overtly political and ideological message that determined so much of the archaeological agendathrough the 1970S no longer resonates with much ofIsrael's general public, nor is archaeology considered necessary to justifY Israel's existence."Clearly, there are multiple perceptions atoot that may mirror multipleapproaches within Israeli society. A dynamic situation exists in whichsome have moved beyond a t()(US on archaeology in the service of Jewishnational identity. Others, whether in the academy or without, still findthat a productive enterprise (Freidman and Lazaroff 2010). The creationof a virtual Temple Mount as a joint venture between UCLA's Urban


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Simulation Team and the Israeli Antiquities Authority (see http://www.ust.uda.edu/ustweb/Pn)jec.:ts/israel.htm) te:)r the l)avidson Center ; p e a k . sto both an economic, tourism-oriented operation and the pilgrimage interests and aspirations of the visitors t()r whom archaeology lies at the coreof their experience of Jerusalem.Settlers usc the names ofcertain ancient sites as part of their justification t()r settlement locations--settlement names bespeak. biblical associations regardless of the spatial distance between the actual site and themodern settlement (Yahya, this volume). Objects from biblical periodsare privileged by the legal but poorly regulated Israeli antiquities marketand the international demand that is its engine (Brodie et al. 2006; Kersel2008). Thus it would seem that some support persists within sectors ofIsraeli society t()r biblical or early Jewish archaeological material culture,associations, and even archaeological work.. It is also clear that an interestin a biblical archaeological heritage cuts across national boundaries. Forgravediggers the reasons are largely economic, and tor settlers they areprimarily a complex mix of the religious and political domains of life.

Steen et aI., Ilan and Gadot, and Yahya all signal the need to involvelocal community members in meaningful engagement with the materialcultural heritage remains within their national borders or, more immediately, within their communities. I t is of particular interest in these situations that it is the archaeologists who are actively participating in thecreation of a new curiosity and awareness of the past among these community members. They are in tact participating in the creation ofanothergroup for whom the past may be mobilized. They are contributing to theinterpretive multiplicity and the dynamic possibilities for the archaeological past to be employed in society. Indeed, in a very real sense, empowerment is part of this archaeological agenda. Yahya additionally gives us aclear example wherein the reality of the past points toward the future, inwhich the desired peace will require confronting the future disposition ofthe material remains of the past.

The Future of Archaeologyas a Political ContextA gaze across our planet shows us that people are dying from AIDS,hunger, disease, and armed conflict-a picture that is sobering, scary, and
http://www/http://www/


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depressing. We may be prompted to wonder who cares about archaeology in such a world. Hamilakis enjoins LIS to care about human problemsmore. That is dear. As part of this we should recognize that people's livesmay be affected, sometimes dramatically, because of the material remainsthat surround them (e.g., in Israel, the West Bank, or Afghanistan). Ina world where the present is deeply unsatisfactory fi)r so many, that isprecisely when and where the archaeological pa!


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orthodoxy and counterhegemonic heterodoxies. These divisions ;.lre similar to but not the same as the nature ofdi.llcctic interaction as describedby Marx. When in COIlAiCt, they produce a sort of synthetic structure.This structure will in turn become one pole ofa new dialectic dichotomy,tc)rcing the tC)fJllulation of new synthes


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perception, ami emerging outcomes of these processes in action todayand of the intert:lce between practice and engaged theorizing (sec Kille-brew, Yahya, Scham, Han and Gadot, Wendrich, and Steen et a1. as examples). We gain understanding of historical instances, still highly relevantand continuing to shape the current political terrain in these regions(e.g., Bernhardsson, Giir, Scham, and Kohl). Pollock, Kohl, and HamiIakis each provides incisive, perceptive critiques of the position of thearchaeologist. These provide opportunity ft)r reflection and revision ofour practices tor those of us active in the field producing material cultureinterprctations and, thereby, producing t

dodd controlling the past owning the future chapter 1

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