Outro: A Practice of Backdirt

So, then. What do we do with all of this backdirt?

Reflecting on this set of issues, we are left with a set of starting points and possibilities. At a conceptual level, we must dispense with any perception that extracting archaeological material from backdirt has also stripped it of political stakes (Sawerthal; Shiff). On the contrary, backdirt’s character as nearly-trash invests it with an urgency, a sense of something almost-lost, the epitome of heritage under threat. Its lack of stratigraphic information also imbues a flexibility upon the artifacts recovered from backdirt, which are no longer beholden to XYZ coordinates or associations with place and time-specific assemblages. With less archaeological data to reconcile and tether to, the looseness of backdirt lends itself to becoming tied up into ideologically-motivated narratives and claims.

On the other hand, rethinking backdirt means not only considering what has been taken out of the soil but also what remains in the soil—human remains, other funerary objects, and sacred significance, for instance (Krupa and Thomas). With this in mind, backdirt invites a consideration of what legal definitions might apply that have previously been overlooked within the rubric of a deposit “of no further archaeological significance” (see introduction). This exploration of the role of backdirt in NAGPRA processes suggests its potential importance to other stakeholders as well; backdirt may hold not only legal significance but moreover spiritual and cultural significance to communities around the world.

This set of issues has pushed a reconsideration not only of the intangible meanings and capacity of backdirt but its material affordances, as well. For one thing, we might use its locality and geochemistry for the purposes of archaeological conservation; being of the earth gives it unique potential for the conservation of earthen heritage (Lingle and Seifert). Alternatively, backdirt’s stubborn retention of overlooked artifacts and fragments, combined with its lack of stratigraphy, suggests the possibility of using backdirt to train in archaeological methods, enabling practice excavations to proceed without risk to in situ remains, subtle soil deposits, or sensitive contexts (Lingle and Seifert; Hanson and Fladd). Re-excavating backdirt, moreover, may be useful and important not only as a training exercise but indeed for gathering a type of data that does not exist in the unexcavated site—namely, data about previous archaeological research and decision-making (Hanson and Fladd; Carvalho; Howley). Spending time with backdirt—as dirt, rather than stratigraphic layers—also invites the possibility for excavators to consider deeply the relationship they experience between affect, phenomenology, and knowledge production (Howley; Pijpers). What is the relationship between thinking, feeling, and sensing during the process of excavation? The papers in these two issues suggest that backdirt has something to say about this question because of the different bodily and epistemological relationships it demands from an archaeologist.

The openings and potentialities put forward in this set of issues point toward other possibilities not explicitly mentioned here. One could imagine, for instance, a discussion dedicated to the ways that backdirt could be employed in the developing best practices of archaeological tourism management. Despite the unreliability of tourism as a sustainable economic sector, many communities living on and near archaeological sites continue to hope to build tourism to their region. In this context, the multisensory engagement of backdirt perhaps has something to offer tourists craving hands-on engagement with archaeological materials, taking full advantage of its affective and pedagogical possibilities. Sawerthal’s examination of the Temple Mount Sifting Project, of course, offers an example of this potential used to stoke nationalist sentiment and justification for occupation. A thorough exploration of possible applications for backdirt in immersive, inclusive, nuanced heritage tourism would take into account the unrealized opportunities of backdirt’s materiality but also its demonstrated dangers.

Backdirt, too, could figure into site management and preservation in other imaginable ways. Besides its uses for conserving earthen heritage, its desirability as an agricultural soil could be directed toward landscape rehabilitation. While plants and root growth in many cases pose risks to archaeological remains, increasingly heritage practitioners recognize ways in which an attunement to ecology is essential for archaeological conservation (Coombes and Viles 2021; Deák et al. 2016; Hayashida 2005; Moore, Guichard, and Sanchís 2020). At Gordion, for instance, intentionally planted shallow-rooted grasses help with water absorption and prevent other, more deeply-rooted plants from growing in spaces near or upon the archaeological remains (Miller 2018). Similar soft-capping techniques are employed in Ireland and the UK (Richards et al. 2024). Furthermore, evidence suggests that plants may help insulate built heritage from damage due to temperature swings, heat islands, exposure to acidity and pollutants, and erosion (André et al. 2014; Coombes, Viles, and Zhang 2018; Li et al. 2021; Margottini et al. 2015; Sternberg et al. 2010; Sun, Wang, and Zheng 2022). Specific plants may represent an important cultural element in an archaeological site or landscape, their absence altering the meaning of the place and its connection to people in the present (Lo and Jim 2015). In this context, as nature-based solutions grow increasingly popular in urban planning and heritage management, perhaps backdirt as an agricultural product of the archaeological endeavor holds particular potential.

The studies in this volume also make clear that the research potential of backdirt is far from exhausted. The reflections on what backdirt can teach about the methodological decisions of past archaeologists (Rivera Prince and Morales; Howley) suggest that backfill represents its own dataset for research questions about the history of archaeology. Like Quitmeyer’s (2004) experimental study of what zooarchaeological remains are left behind in backdirt as a result of sifting decisions, there is room to build up systematic, quantitative evidence of how our excavation decisions have shaped the faunal, ceramic, lithic, archaeobotanical record, etc. Measuring what gets left behind in combination with archival records of past excavations reveals what specific excavation strategies—beyond, perhaps, just sifting—miss. We can see how that shapes our knowledge about the past, what evidence is simply absent from the archaeological record, what we have never known … And how we as archaeologists, ourselves, represent a continued site formation process through our excavation and site management strategies.

What all of these possibilities—those named in these issues as well as those only hinted or gestured towards—have in common is that rather than apologizing for backdirt, or simply learning to live with it, they utilize the unique affordances of backdirt. This commitment is perhaps what most unites the diverse contributions of these two issues. What do we do with all of this backdirt? We study it, feel it, sense it, theorize about it, tread carefully around it, sift it, respect it, protect it, protect with it, ask questions of it—and ultimately, set backdirt to the jobs that backdirt, and only backdirt, can do.

These issues are far from the final word on backdirt. In addition to geographic limitations in the range of contributions here (there are no contributions at all from Africa or Australia, and none from South or East Asia), there are also many subspecialties in archaeology that would likely have much to say about how backdirt behaves and what it contains. We have not included ceramicists, metallurgists, zooarchaeologists, archaeobotanists, geochemists, or researchers from many other subfields who would further animate the discussion on backdirt theory and practice. This dyad of issues is meant as an invitation to such discussion; “On Backdirt” is a debut album, not a farewell tour.

As long as archaeologists continue to excavate, we will continue to produce backdirt. And backdirt will continue to act on us—pervading our clothing, our lungs, our eyelids, growing stubbornly larger on the landscape with each passing season, standing as a mirror image to the documented and published archaeological record by enclosing and encasing everything we left behind. We co-constitute each other, archaeologists and backdirt. We enable and limit one another, returning to that relation over and over again. What do we do with all this backdirt? The same thing we would do with any entity with which we are so abidingly entangled: we devote time, care, and attention to it and see what new possibilities unfold from our alliance and reliance on backdirt.