Real Pseudoarchaeology

I agreed to contribute to the Real Archaeology online event at the end of the month and this has prompted me to try to wrangle some of my pseudoarchaeological writings into a more coherent shape. 

My goal is to make my writing a bit more conversational and a bit less polemical. As readers of the blog know, I’ve found it all too easy to take issue with some of my overzealous, if well-meaning colleagues during the recent battles in the pseudoarchaeology wars. I also often let my distaste for their enthusiasm for debunking shape my thoughts.

I thought it might be more useful in the context of real (pseudo)archaeology to cool my jets a bit and instead use the ambiguity around the concept of “Real Archaeology” to argue that there’s room in the archaeology tent for most pseudoarchaeological thinking. At the same time, I want to narrate my own commitments to pseudoarchaeological thought in a more personal way which I hope allows me to acknowledge that some pseudoarchaeological thinking is racist, exploitative, colonialist, or simply a grift, but many of the ideas that pseudoarchaeology produced have deep roots early 20th century thought and continue to inspire new forms of creative work. This, of course, is important because, as I’ve blogged about before, both archaeology and pseudoarchaeology have shared interest in environmental catastrophes, race, globalization, and capitalism. As it is becoming increasingly clear that the epistemologies, methods, and institutions developed over the past two centuries may not be adequate for the challenges facing society in the next 50 (much less 200) years, archaeology should continue to expand its tent and challenge the core assumptions of the discipline.

Here’s my opening few paragraphs:

Like so many archaeologists, my first encounter with the concept of archaeology came from pseudoarchaeology. I read with enthusiasm and curiosity van Daniken’s work, thrilled at the adventures of Indiana Jones, and pondered the power of mummies, curses, and haunted and forgotten ancient burial grounds. These experiences stayed with me even as I began to explore the realm of more formal archaeological practice and aspired to do “real archaeology” (whatever that meant or means). There were even times when I was content to regard my work as “real” and my earlier dalliances with pseudoarchaeology to be the distractions of a misguided youth. 

As I developed greater proficiency in field work, there was always some zealous archaeologist eager to introduce me to the limits of the discipline. In some cases, they assured me that I was not a real archaeologist by dint of my training (I have a PhD in history), my methods (I am a “survey archaeologist” rather than an excavator), my area of study (Mediterranean archaeologists are often regarded as too posh and unscientific to be “real” archaeologists), my interests (which often strayed toward architectural history), and even the periods that I studied (first, Late Antiquity, which was too debased to warrant serious consideration and then the contemporary world, which is altogether too recent). Eventually, I embraced this criticism and turned to celebrating the affinities of between archaeology and punk practice and eventually the anti-modern critique of the slow movement. In fact, the more time I spent doing archaeology, the more I came to admire those who promoted a big tent vision of the field where punk practices, survey archaeologists, architectural theorists, mystics, dreamers, indigenous elders, grifters, poets, musicians, and even the odd scientific archaeologists rubbed shoulders with one another. It reminded me that my fascination with pseudoarchaeology as a young person was not only pretty common, but also paralleled the emergence of the field more broadly. 

Scrape an archaeologist, you’ll likely find a strata of pseudoarchaeology just below the surface. In my field at least, it was hardly a century ago when certain prominent archaeologists regarded dreams as a viable form of remote sensing and when magic bowls guided stratigraphic excavators to discover important Early Byzantine sites. It seemed to me that it was still possible to expand the “real archaeology” tent enough to make room for pseudoarchaeology especially if it was already there. Moreover, this seemed consistent with the growing enthusiasm for methodological and epistemological pluralism (or at least polyvocality) within the discipline. To be clear, I’m not interested in making room for grifters seeking to profit by peddling pseudoarchaeological ideas for political or financial gain. I have no more patience for these characters than those overzealous gate keepers who sought to marginalize my work in relation to “real archaeology.” Nor am I inclined to critique self-professed “real archaeologists” who have turned efforts to preserve the epistemological purity of our discipline into a moral crusade. Many of these individuals do good work and have found ways to leverage the highest profile pseudoarchaeologists — Graham Hancock and his ilk — to advance the cause of archaeology full stop. I find their efforts a bit misguided, but that’s fine. There’s room in the big tent of archaeology for them too.