I arrive at Stansted Airport from Stockholm. My fact-finding mission to the United Kingdom has begun. Just how many references to archaeology will I come across in popular culture as I travel for the next six days through England? It doesn’t start well: the airport features a promising shop of the Past Times chain but although the past is ubiquitous here I see no explicit reference to archaeology, however long I walk around in this shop full of nostalgic merchandise.

On the train to Peterborough things improve. I read the Indepedent-on-Sunday and quickly come across an ad for Play Station games including Indiana Jones and the Emperor’s Tomb (”Buy 2 get 3rd free”). I also note in the TV programme that Indiana Jones – Raiders of the Lost Ark will be shown on BBC 1 at 6pm this very evening. It is self evident that my mission will require me to watch this film (once more).

I pick up the Great North Eastern Railways train magazine as well as some tourist brochures and am duly reminded to visit Flag Fen, ”a significant European archaeological site”, which – thanks to the work of a dedicated team of archaeologists – provides ”fascinating insight into early civilization.” One of the brochures promises that at the same site I will be able to ”enjoy a unique archaeological experience” and I may even be able to observe ”archaeologists at work”. Clearly, this archaeological experience needs to be visited. Fortunately, I have already arranged for a meeting with the Project Director tomorrow morning.

Before I withdraw to my Bed & Breakfast accommodation (and the promised archaeological movie) I take an afternoon stroll through the busy shopping town of Peterborough. I come passed the Museum & Art Gallery which is closed. A display board gives a glimpse of what they are offering otherwise: From Vikings and Rest In Peace: An exhibition about the rites, beliefs and practices of death in Peterborough, from the earliest times to the present day, to Egyptians: Travel back to the mysterious world of Ancient Egypt! and the Peterborough Ghost Walk.

Elsewhere in town, I see another Past Times shop, likewise without much archaeology in it, but in the section Distant Lands there are at least some references to Ancient Egypt. Elsewhere I have more luck. In a Fine Art + Graphics Shop there are three framed posters of characters in the TV series Stargate SG-1 which was introduced after the success of the archaeological movie Stargate (1994). I noted later that the series is also currently shown on the British TV station Sky One, Wednesdays at 6pm (three hours after Relic Hunter). That same fine art shop is also selling cards with famous cinematic motifs, among them Chimpanzee archaeologist Dr Cornelius and his wife Dr Zira in front of three crucified apes (from the 1967 version of The Planet of the Apes, with a story about forbidden archaeological knowledge…). In the same shop I also spot a signed poster of Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones. It sells – or rather has not yet sold – for £175. Is this the going rate for something touched by the greatest popular archaeologists of them all I wonder, while watching him a little later, from the comfort of my bed, ”at work”.

Later that evening I decide to go to a movie. The Showcase Cinema welcomes me with a big cardboard poster announcing yet another famous movie archaeologist: ”Coming Soon … Lara Croft. Tomb Raider. The Cradle of Life”. But she is not here yet, so I decide to watch the film Bulletproof Monk instead. It turns out to be a martial arts movie about a Tibetan monk trying to protect an ancient scroll, holding the power to dominate the universe, from some Nazi-like enemies. Sounds pretty much like an Indiana Jones script, but nobody in the film is in fact (meant to be) an archaeologist.

Monday, 12 May 2004

I get up early. On the way to Flag Fen, I walk past a discount bookstore where I soon spot videos on sale. Among them is Star Trek Deep Space 9, vol 4, containing the episode ”q-less” featuring sexy Vash, a female archaeologist and former love-interest of Captain Picard. She is engaged in tomb-robbing and the illicit antiquities trade, and has been known to dress in beautiful colonial style fashion. I happily pay £1 for the video and make my way to that significant European archaeological site a short distance out of town.

There is no real footpath so I end up having to cross a muddy ploughed field. Suddenly I note a strangely shaped flint lying in front of me. It’s a broken prehistoric tool but it may take an archaeologist to recognise it as such. Although strictly speaking this field may not be part of popular culture, both expertise and finder’s luck are available to all in society too.

At Flag Fen I meet Francis Pryor, discoverer of the site and long-time director of its excavations, currently also President of the Council for British Archaeology (CBA). Besides all that, he is a successful archaeological author and TV presenter (e.g. Britain BC, BBC 2003). Pryor arrives in a battered Landrover, with a trowel on the seat next to him. The perfect entry for a field archaeologist.

We have a long chat in one of the reconstructed roundhouses at Flag Fen and finally end up in a pub in Peterborough, still talking. Among other things, Pryor tells me that the sand-pit on the site allows children by themselves to find things (that had earlier been planted). That notion of discovery is one children love, whether at Flag Fen or in TV programmes like Time Team. It’s the thrill of doing archaeology! The British success series Time Team has of course also filmed at Flag Fen, and that in itself has become a part of the history of the site. A display features various images from the filming and a poster signed by the Time Team heroes themselves. In the afternoon I take the train and travel on to York. I buy a copy of the Daily Express at the station but find no archaeology mentioned anywhere.

I arrive at York train station on a very pleasant early summer afternoon. The first thing I notice is a huge advertising poster announcing ”JORVIK. THE AUTHENTIC VIKING ENCOUNTER”, and similar messages are contained in all of the available tourist brochures. After all, Jorvik and the attractions of the York Archaeological Trust (YAT) are among the biggest crowd-pullers for the city of York. During my stay I will meet both Peter Addyman, who set the YAT up some thirty years ago, and John Walker, the present Chief Executive. Still at the train station, I notice that the tourist office there offers a leaflet entitled Time Team in York. I am intrigued and hand over the 50p it costs. Such has been the influence of Time Team on the popular consciousness in the United Kingdom that visitors choose to visit York in the footsteps of the TV show that in September 1999 excavated three sites in the centre of the town. The following year, visitor numbers at Jorvik were up by 100,000.

By the same token, what present ”do you get the person who has got everything?” The YAT charges £50 for ”A Day on the Dig”, during which you ”will be following in the footsteps of televisions Time Team, discovering the latest about our ancestors…”.

After checking into my Bed and Breakfast accommodation, I go for a stroll through town. The Haunted Walk of York is advertised for the same evening and I decide to take part. Tony is our guide and he tells us ghost stories as well as gory histories while walking through York’s old town centre. These are stories his grandmother told him as a child, stories he heard from other York citizens, and accounts of what happened to members of groups like ours in the past… His account includes

- ghosts in the King’s Manor which now houses the University’s Department of Archaeology; - a Viking ghost living in St. Saviour’s Church, now YAT’s Archaeological Resource Centre (more on that below); - YAT excavations at the Treasurer’s House confirming the existence of a Roman Road, precisely where previously Roman soldiers had been witnessed walking half submerged on the level of their own road; - excavations in 1964 at the Tax Office Building which confirmed a legend about particularly gory killings of Christians by Vikings.

Whereas the first two examples contribute to creating a certain spooky ambience for modern archaeology, the latter two employ archaeological excavations as evidence for the trustworthiness of paranormal experiences and folk legends.

Tuesday, 13 May 2004

In the morning I walk once more through the historic town centre of York, on the search for an Internet Cafe from where to check my email. The entire town centre has a distinctly historical feel to it. One shop is called Past Images, and it offers to take your family picture, with everybody wearing Viking clothes and a stereotypical long boat in the background.

At lunch time I meet up with Mike Heyworth, Deputy Director, and Jonathan Bateman, Information Officer, of the Council for British Archaeology (CBA). The are CBA promotes archaeology in the UK, involving consultancy work for the media and the production of a popular magazine British Archaeology. The current issue has an ad on the back inviting students to ”Explore the past… by distance learning” at the University of Leicester. The CBA also runs the Young Archaeologists’ Club, with 67 branches in the U.K., where all children are welcome to develop their interest in archaeology: ”Get the worm’s eye view”!

Through a special working party, the CBA also sponsors the biannual Channel 4 Award for the best archaeological film or video. Among past winners was Channel 4’s own series Time Team. It is often especially through comedy that the nature and impact of a phenomenon in popular culture becomes evident. Bateman points me to a recent BBC parody of the currently en vogue TV genre of history and archaeology documentaries. The comedian Marcus Brigstocke wrote 12 short episodes of a series entitled We are History, in which he plays the authoritative historian David Oxley, B.A. (Hons). I borrow the tape and later laugh loud about the hillarious way in which Brigstocke makes fun of TV historian Simon Schama, the BBC docu-soap Surviving the Iron Age, Julian Richards series Meet the Ancestors, and Time Team’s Tony Robinson, among others.

Alex Hunt, then the CBA’s Research and Conservation Officer, writes press statements on behalf of the CBA and tells me of the difficulty to give stories the right ”spin” in order to make them interesting for journalists. In other words, for archaeological stories to acquire wider relevance they have to be billed as something other than what archaeologists think they are about. It means that few people are interested in archaeology in the same way archaeologists are interested in it. The CBA’s own British Archaeology magazine, too, reveals its ambition to reach wider audiences than its own membership when it titles in large letters: ”Hunting for the first humans in Britain… Nick Ashton reports on our first half million years”, or ”Supernatural power dressing … materials like jet, amber, faience and tin were also worn as talismans, writes Alison Sheridan.” I ask myself: are archaeologists trying to sell to others their own interest in archaeology and the past – or have others already sold the popular interest in archaeology and the past to the archaeologists?

Later that day, I watch a BBC 2 documentary on Michael Ventris, who in 1952 deciphered Linear B, Europe’s earliest known writing system. The programme, entitled A Very English Genius, portrays Ventris as a mysterious amateur genius who suffered a mysterious death at 34, only four years after being able to proclaim that the mystery of Linear B had been solved. Although strictly speaking not about an archaeologist, the programme tells an archaeological story about a genius and many associated mysteries, only some of which have been resolved.

Wednesday, 14 May 2004

The University town of York does of course have a Comic shop, and they also sell postcards of famous film posters. Among them are posters for Lara Croft Tomb Raider (2001) and for all three Indiana Jones films. The slogan that went with Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) sums up nicely how a film archaeologist could gain such popularity: Indiana Jones embodies ”The Return of the Great Adventure” (see chapter 5).

My own adventures bring me next to the National Trust Shop. They sell a booklet on ”The Stone Age”, in the Horrible Histories series. It contains a section on the history of archaeology, entitled ”awful archaeologists”. There I come across a very moving story about the (fictitious) Austrian archaeologist Gerhardt Katz who in 1957 committed suicide because the advent of Radiocarbon dating had proofed his own theories wrong. What is it with this dating method that threatens peoples’ confidence in themselves (see also Mitchell 1977)? Hmh. Then it’s time for the Borders bookshop. Among many strictly academic titles, which are not my concern here, I come across The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Lost Civilizations (Ryan 1999). The front and back covers make it plain that this book was written for a large audience (at least as large as that of the Horrible Histories books!). Its author is introduced as ”Don Ryan, Ph.D., scholar and explorer” whose ”many discoveries include the finding of lost tombs and controversial mummies.” The reader of this ”inside introduction to the exciting world of archaeology” is promised to hear about ”the latest discoveries of mummies and tombs”, get ”the facts on mythical worlds, such as Atlantis and Troy”, and learn not only about ”detailed explanations of the pyramids and the Mayan ruins” but also about ”the dirt on artifacts and dating techniques.” Confidently (and in large letters) the publishers tell us that, fortunately, ”you don’t have to be Indiana Jones to learn about lost civilizations!” Evidently they have carefully considered what a lay person could possibly want from an introduction to archaeology.

What bothers me more than explicit populism is a certain ambiguity that becomes obvious in books like this one. One the one hand, archaeology is portrayed as ”an exciting field of study, full of mystery and adventure – a field where tiny bits of stone and bone can reveal great stories and where lost temples can still be found in the jungle” (from Ryan’s address to the reader on the inside cover). But then, instead of explicitly celebrating the excitement, mystery and adventure of archaeology, instead of simply telling the great stories about past lives and present discoveries, the reader gets soabered up on the first page of the first chapter: ”Superficially, archaeology might look like just a lot of fund and adventure, but it’s actually a very sophisticated and scientific field of study” (Ryan 1999: 4). A little later Indiana Jones is debunked too:

Sorry to break the news, but as fun as it is to watch the dashing professor being chased by evil thugs, archaeology is usually not quite like this. … The average archaeologist spends infinitely more time in the laboratory measuring potsherds and arrowheads than avoiding volleys of poison arrows in the Amazon or narrowly escaping ancient booby traps.

Jones is subsequently outed as ”a fake”, but Ryan and his fellow archaeologists are said to be ”real”, as are their discoveries. That, we are told, ”makes true archaeology all the more fascinating” (1999: 6). I am not sure though if the rest of the book can really live up to this standard.

I argued in From Stonehenge to Las Vegas (Holtorf 2005) that the value and significance of archaeology is largely rooted in the ”archaeo-appeal” it conveys, and not in the extent to which a time-traveller would actually recognize the past in our reconstructions of it. As archaeologists we ought to be celebrating that appeal, openly and unashamedly. That is why, in the end, Ryan has it right after all, when he admits that ”archaeology is one of those professions that seems almost too good to be true” … ”sort of like being a ski instructor all year round” (p. 309, 311).

I am almost late for my lunch appointment with Peter Addyman who, in 1972, founded a charity with the name York Archaeological Trust (YAT). The popularity of its visitor attraction Jorvik, formerly The Jorvik Viking Centre, is almost too good to be true, too. Since it opened in 1984, nearly 14 million paying visitors have been on a spectacular ride through the reconstructed Viking age settlement of Jorvik, boosting York’s tourist economy by £25 million every year. At one point, the number of school parties had to be restricted to one every 13 minutes. The numerous visitors effectively subsidize extensive academic research programmes of the YAT in perpetuity. Fittingly, the Jorvik experience contains a reconstructed excavation site where you can see models of YAT employees you have sponsored ”at work”, practicing what Addyman describes as the ”fantastic science” of archaeology.

For Addyman, scientific integrity and credibility are everything. All the various attractions run by the YAT were therefore designed to be accurate to the highest academic standards. At the same time, this authenticity is packaged and promoted to the public by using the latest communication and marketing techniques. Although Addyman, the archaeologist, admits to having at home a set of Indy’s hat and whip as used in Raiders of the Lost Ark, misleading stereotypes á la Indiana Jones and Lara Croft were to be carefully avoided in his attractions. Despite this qualification, satisfying visitor expectations has been considered paramount at Jorvik. Addyman realized that only if the product on offer was perceived as entertaining, enjoyable and worthwhile would many people be coming and be willing to pay a reasonable amount for it. That is the reason why Jorvik is never called a ”museum” but is instead billed as an experience and ”Viking encounter”. ”You learn more when it is not a museum,” says the founding director of what must be one of the most successful archaeological enterprises in the world. The educational messages Jorvik contains – about the Viking age, archaeological practice and the need to protect or rescue archaeological sites – are partly conveyed on a subliminal level rather than through explicit didactics. Addyman’s admits to having been inspired a lot by Vance Packard’s The Hidden Persuaders (1960), a study of how advertisers employ depth psychology to influence people’s choices in daily life.

Ever since he began charging people a fee for observing the on-going YAT excavations in the centre of York and sold them souvenirs, Peter Addyman’s strategy has been to give the people (some of) what the people want, while letting them subsidise an ambitious programme of urban archaeology in return. Simultaneously he supplied his paying visitors with subliminal messages that were (in his judgment) good for them and good for archaeology. As a result, Jorvik manages to attract many of those who would never normally visit a museum, subsequently letting ”a monster” ”brainwash” them with archaeological ”propaganda”. In a lecture given a few years ago, which Addyman showed me, he summarised his approach by stating that ”the Jorvik Viking Centre is a purpose-designed educating machine, developed on principles of efficiency and cost-effectiveness; predicated on academic integrity, education values and the belief that learning can … be fun; and using advanced modern techniques of presentation, persuasion, delivery and marketing.” Seldom have I come across such a cool, measured and smart approach, exploiting the public fascination with archaeology for ’higher’ aims than merely making money.

In the afternoon I go to see the refurbished Jorvik for myself, at £7.20 not cheap but at least I am supporting a charity. The ride is impressive, no doubt about it. What is more, everything in the reconstructed Viking city is claimed to be based on ”painstaking excavation work of York Archaeological Trust” so that, at one point, ”you are looking directly in a face of a resident of Viking Age Jorvik”. Archaeology becomes a ”fantastic science” indeed, too good to be true.

Thursday, 15 May 2003

I have an appointment with John Walker who not long ago succeeded Peter Addyman at the top of the YAT. I want to get his view of popular archaeology and the approach the Trust is taking now.

On the way to his office I come past an Antiquities shop, Ancient Worlds, were archaeological discoveries are offered for sale to collectors and visitors. Archaeology recovering commodities. A bit further on are the premises of a famous astrologer: Jonathan Cainer Horoscopes. The stock in his shop, filled with New Age sounds and a scent of incense, includes books about The Maya and Sacred Stones as well as many things Egyptian, including a miniature pyramid. Archaeology providing spiritual experiences.

John Walker is an interesting chap with interesting views. He reckons that archaeology only exists, because people think it should exist. Walker argues therefore that the YAT needs to refocus on the fundamental question of public benefit, and reconsider how to use the widespread image of archaeology to appeal to wider audiences. He believes that in principle ”archaeology is a passport to every class.” YAT’s current Chief Executive would thus be quite willing to incorporate Lara Croft and Indiana Jones in the promotion of archaeology at York. A few weeks after my visit, YAT released a press statement entitled Become ’Indiana Jones’ this summer at the JORVIK Explorers Club, offering children the chance to ”travel through time, handle ancient objects, learn the tools of the archaeology trade and even meet people from the past!”

Walker is not at all certain why so many people actually visit the Jorvik exhibit (although numbers have been declining). Of course the popular fascination with the Vikings plays a role, as does the perfect location in the centre of York. Walker also wonders precisely what Jorvik achieves in educational terms. It is clear to him that visitors love the sensation of discovering something ”amasing”, whether that is of material value or a new insight. Maybe that feeling of finding ”a treasure”, once enjoyed by Schliemann and Carter, is also what makes modern tourists want to take a ride through a Viking age town?

For Walker, archaeology is essentially about exploration. He explains that archaeologists are space travellers moving backwards in time, exploring foreign worlds. In a way, therefore, archaeologists study ”the Vikings as aliens”, as Walker puts it. Consequently, the new slogan which he proposes for YAT is ”to explore and explain.” John Walker then walks me to YAT’s special educational facility, the Archaeological Resource Centre (ARC), whose slogan draws on a different metaphor: ”Become an archaeological detective...” (see chapter 5). He introduces me to Ian Carlisle and his deputy Tom Gibson who run the ARC which is mainly designed for school groups but promises ”great fun for all age groups and abilities”. I learn that all children who visit are familiar with Time Team. Here they are being introduced to the post-excavation work that receives somewhat less attention in the TV series. All children are allowed and indeed expected to handle real artifacts (”you are here to work!”). Quickly, they get immersed in their very own little lab work. Gibson says that sometimes he wears a white coat to heighten the scientific experience. Children love that, as they love playing being on Time Team and handling charismatic artifacts such as animal skulls and the Viking Age pooh found below Lloyds Bank. The appeal is clear. As the leaflet promises, at ARC you can ”hold history in your hand.”

The ARC presents a scientistic archaeology. It’s all bones and pot shards and samples, and microscopes and hypotheses. And white coats (sometimes). And popular it’s among the children.

Later that evening I read two local papers, The Evening Press and The Northern Echo. The only reference to archaeology I come across is a featured walk passing by a Roman fort, a small section of which has been excavated. In this case, archaeology supplies ramblers with destinations in the landscape. Here as elsewhere, what is hinted at and evoked by ancient remains – untouched by archaeological detectives – can encourage contemplations about past people and the course of history (see also Burström 2004).

Friday, 16 May 2003

I am on my way home! In the train from York I find a Daily Mirror. The only references to archaeology are in the TV programme and among the events listings where all heritage attractions appear in a category called ”Adventure.” A larger feature is dedicated to artifacts from the Titanic on display at the Science Museum in London. A recovered porthole from the ship provides the visual anchor for a short story about ”A window on history.”

During a stopover back in Peterborough, I notice in a major shopping centre a stand of the local council advertising its own heritage attractions. Among them is, of course, Francis Pryor’s Flag Fen where visitors can ”discover the world of the ancestors.”

Later, I pick-up a leaflet for a performance of Händel’s opera Serse (Xerxes) in Cambridge. Prominently displayed is a fragmented stone relief of Xerxes. I wonder about the significance of archaeology as a supplier of evocative images that can crop up pretty much everywhere…

My last few hours in the UK. Looking back. It’s been an intensive week. I encountered popular archaeology in pretty much all possible and some impossible places. I came across a wide range of different appeals of archaeology and a similar wide range of different strategies using these appeals. That currency of archaeology and the amazing variety of its uses in popular culture has been the main result of my trip, and that is also the main message of this chapter. The next chapter will look in some depth at the portrayal of archaeology in the media.

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References