Tags
archaeology, art crime, art theft, art trafficking, artefact, artifact, collecting, cultural heritage, cultural preservation, excavation, interdisciplinary, looting, public awareness
It is in the nature of research to take one in unexpected directions; what I was not prepared for was a single, simple idea that struck to the heart of a major problem of art crime. I was working on a post recently on how to recognise and protect archaeological sites for the general public; especially in North America, sites can be very hard to detect on the surface and artefacts hard to identify. Sometimes sites are damaged by people who don’t even realise they are on top of archaeology. Trying to develop a simple explanation of what sites and artefacts might look like, I realised I had a deeper question: what might be the consequences if I did?
Ideally, raising awareness of the importance of preserving heritage sites would help protect their often fragile evidence; in reality, showing the interested public how to identify an archaeological site would also mean telling looters how to find and destroy one. The more I worked on the question, the more demanding it became: without public interest in safeguarding history, there is no motivation for saving cultural sites, but nearly anything taught to a conscientious audience can be exploited by looters. Whether they consider themselves treasure hunters, pot hunters, metal detector enthusiasts, or the occasional well-meaning amateur, the result is the same—intact sites are ransacked and all the small, delicate traces and their knowledge are tossed aside.
Some of the anecdotes are astonishing— in one case, a remarkably intact 19th century historical site on the East coast was being excavated, and the archaeologists working at the site talked enthusiastically about the dig’s success with interested passersby. Some of the eager public turned out to be looters— they took note of valuable potential for marketable artefacts, returned on the weekend, ripped everything intact out of the dig and sold it. Adding insult to injury, they got away with it by telling visitors that they were the official archaeological team. In other cases, people will volunteer at a national or state park site long enough to learn the terrain and artefacts, then plunder sites and disappear.
I realised I was facing one of the profound conflicts of interdisciplinary solutions in this field: knowledge and scholarship depend on broad, open access to information; law enforcement and security depend on controlling it.
To be continued.
You bring up a very good– and difficult– point, a little like police shows that make me worry sometimes if they’re not just giving good ideas to criminals. Sometimes all one can do is believe that the majority of people are not going to take advantage of your efforts to make a positive difference.
In this case, it is my responsibility to do rather more than hope. It is a complex question, and always will be: what is known, and what should be? One could extrapolate this out to the broad concern of the 21st century— how do we balance privacy and protection? Total privacy would make us more vulnerable, as law enforcement would never get the information needed to keep us safe; total security would demand totalitarian control, and violate every human right and human decency. Either would mean the end of civilisation. But it isn’t enough for me to say “the answer lies somewhere in between”, my goal is to figure out where. The research I’m embarking on has, as its longest-range goal, to find principle-based answers to the really tough questions, so specific problems can be approached from an objective foundation. One advantage —that I am taking— is that one doesn’t need to have the answers to complex problems before one starts. Sometimes it is enough just to ask the question and spark a dialogue.
Interesting points. Ultimately, I suspect it comes down to having a more educated public who can be the eyes and ears for the preservation of their cultural heritage.
That is hugely important, and I hope I can contribute. Happily, there are many archaeologists, historians, artists, scholars, and just enthusiasts doing a terrific job already, educating and interesting people around the world. Since I specialise in art crime study and cultural protection, not pure archaeology or pure art history, I can focus my effort on figuring out how to help the specialists in these fields continue what they are doing, hopefully supporting their work with information on balancing open access to knowledge, and protected access to material. The scholar’s job is profound understanding of his own field; as an interdisciplinary researcher, I consider that my job is profound perspective on the connections between fields. Ideally both will support public understanding. You are quite right— evidence shows that archaeology is best protected when the people who live with it, care about it. Thanks for commenting!
Hi Ms. Thibodeaux,
Bravo on creating an organization for such a worthy cause. At SPI, we are also very invested in preserving cultural heritage. Our projects are located at sites in Peru, and our paradigm for preservation was created exactly because we had the same problem of those in the know (whether local residents or others) looting or otherwise destroying sites. Our solution is to provide an economic incentive to potential looters to preserve the site. Our projects aim to create jobs through investing in locally-owned businesses (usually in artisanal or touristic development) whose financial success is tied to the preservation of the site. When local residents realize they can earn more money (a sustainable income) through preserving the site, we’ve found that they join together to do so.
What do you think? I’d love to hear your feedback and continue the discussion.
Very best,
Rebekah Junkermeier and the Sustainable Preservation Initiative