There are three core papers in this volume, covering a diverse range of subjects: the archaeology of the Holocaust, the use of World War II intelligence resources in cultural heritage projects, and pre-contact fortified trading settlements in Argentina. Also included is a review of last year’s postgraduate conference in conflict archaeology, which was organized and hosted by postgraduate students of the Centre for Battlefield Archaeology.
Unusually, perhaps, this brief introduction will turn first to the conference review, which, thanks to a couple of points made by its author, Peter Norris, has provided a touchstone for this editorial. In his thorough review of the wide range of papers delivered at the conference (thirty-one in all across the international spectrum), Norris applauds the wide range of subjects covered. He does so, however, with the caveat that there was a dearth of papers on earlier periods, with the majority covering the early modern and modern periods, something which he regards as characteristic of the field of conflict archaeology as a whole.
There does indeed seem to be a greater amount of archaeological research concentrated on conflicts from the early modern and modern periods (in short, the postmedieval period) than there is on the medieval and earlier periods, including what in the western classicist tradition is regarded as the ancient world. Norris is undoubtedly correct when he asserts that conflict archaeology can provide new perspectives on narratives composed in these medieval or earlier periods — which provide the basis for the orthodox view on earlier conflicts. Indeed, this point is recognized by researchers and as a result there is some exciting work being done on ancient battlefields and other aspects of conflict. This does not, however, get us away from the perception that there is a greater interest in more recent periods, and if the conference in question were not example enough then one only needs to look the contents of this Journal since its inception in 2005 to see evidence of this. Of the seventy-four papers published thus far, no less than fifty-eight concern the post-medieval period, despite our efforts to promote the publication of work on earlier periods, including those from the burgeoning field of prehistoric conflict studies.
These efforts aside, however, we editors must hold our hands up and admit that our own interests also fall firmly within the latter part of the chronological spectrum — from the eighteenth to the twentieth centuries. Why is it, then, that more archaeologists are interested in the pike and shot wars of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries or the bloody battlefields of WWI than they are in the military achievements of Hannibal or the Hundred Years War? Well, one reason is straightforward, it is simply one of archaeological visibility — there tends to be more evidence for later conflicts than earlier conflicts. Lead musket balls tend to survive in greater numbers than iron arrowheads, not just because lead usually survives better than iron but because arrows tend to get picked up after a battle for reuse and the much smaller musket ball, which in any case is easier to manufacture, is not. It is no surprise that when, after an effort stretching over almost five years, the true site of the Battle of Bosworth (1485) was finally discovered it was thanks to the discovery of lead cannon shot rather than iron arrowheads.
We should not, though, get too carried away with the idea that more post-medieval conflict archaeology gets done because it is easier. To our minds, its real attraction lies in the exact opposite being true. Early modern and perhaps even more so modern conflict archaeology offer challenges which are uniquely profound. In order to find examples of these one need look no further than the paper on Holocaust Archaeology by Caroline Sturdy Colls, in which she does an excellent job of articulating her own ideas on the subject while also referring to the opinions of other scholars from the sphere of contemporary conflict studies. The Holocaust is a subject which raises such great emotion that most archaeologists would shy away from it, but what Sturdy Colls has bravely set out to do is to establish a network of archaeologists keen to advance its study. We have written before about the misuse of archaeological techniques by Holocaust deniers, and it is therefore reassuring to find archaeologists willing to take on the challenge of furthering our understanding of an event which by some has been shrugged off as an unpleasant anomaly unlikely to be repeated or indeed denied entirely. Vital to the development of this field, which we see as essential, is a comprehension of the various ethical and religious concerns which can place constraints on the type of investigations which will be acceptable to the many constituents with an interest in these sites (victims, relatives of victims, local people, religious organizations, etc.) and Sturdy Colls discusses these in some depth. It is, for instance, against Jewish Halacha Law to disturb the remains of the dead, no matter how brutal and demeaning their demise and burial (these concerns do not only extend to the Jewish community, as other groups were also singled out for extermination by the Nazis). In response, what Sturdy Colls offers is an ethically sound project methodology which respects these sensitivities.
We do not have the time or space to explore all of the various reasons for a conflict archaeology of the recent past being such a worthwhile enterprise, but archaeology’s ability to question, correct, or uphold received wisdom and the historical record is key here. Handmaiden of history no longer, conflict archaeology in particular is providing history with an essential and, yes, exciting shot in the arm. We are doing our best to provide this fix and have spent the last two semesters enlightening students at Glasgow University in our new roles, additional to our archaeological responsibilities, as history lecturers (we prefer the term ‘enlightening’ to ‘brainwashing’). It is not just the more recent end of the post-medieval spectrum (WWI, WWII, and beyond) to which this applies. Our ongoing interest in the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Jacobite rebellions in Scotland is in part sparked by the fact that this is not dead and dusty history — it is an emotive subject which fuels heated debate even 250 years after the event (there are those in Scotland and elsewhere who regard the ’45 not as a failed rebellion but as unfinished business).
That the various types of documentary sources traditionally regarded as the domain of the historian, for example, intelligence reports, post-operational accounts by bomber crews, and to a lesser extent aerial photographs (which have for a long time been used by archaeologists) can enhance the work of archaeologists and cultural heritage curators is demonstrated here by Dirk Spennemann. His paper considers the role of documentary sources in current efforts by the National Park Service to study and conserve remains related to the Japanese occupation of the Aulutian islands in the north Pacific during World War II. In many respects we archaeologists are still feeling our way around this material, and on the basis of Spennemann’s work it is clear that we should be paying more attention to the motivations which lay behind their creation and also the various processes of attrition and filtering which have led to the survival of some and the demise of others.
Excavating paperwork may be something new to archaeologists, but it has always been a magpie of a subject (or to put it in less ornithological terms is open to a multi-disciplinary approach), willing to apply new techniques and ally itself with other fields whenever they have the potential to get us closer to the past (Sturdy Colls cites conflict studies, forensic science, forensic psychology, geography, and social anthropology). It has also demonstrated a willingness to widen its remit — with conflict archaeology itself being a fairly recent addition to the portfolio. Now there are other avenues attracting our attention — the role of memory in the construction of history, to name just one.
Returning to the ancient/modern debate, it should perhaps be acknowledged that, within the spheres of classical, near-eastern, and other sub-branches, what could be regarded as conflict archaeology may not actually be classed as such by its practitioners and thus will not find itself being talked about at conflict archaeology conferences or in the pages of this esteemed Journal. Relevant here are sites only now being accepted as part manifestation of conflict. Just such a case is presented by Pedro Miguel Salminci and María Soledad Gheggi in their reassessment of the La Alumbrera complex in north-west Argentina. Dating from the pre-contact period of ad 1000–1480, this and other settlements, the authors argue, represent fortified trading centres which were the destination for llama trains originating from trading centres which could change as shifting, low-level conflicts between groups dictated who was friend and who was foe.
When all is said and done, however, conflict archaeologists will study what interests them — if this tends to be the recent rather than the ancient past, then we should perhaps ask ourselves why. Is it because there is more material to study or is it because the questions we can ask of it are more relevant to our own times and our own experiences? We should not, however, get too carried away with this line of discussion — there are plenty of examples, such as that just cited, to demonstrate that the situation is not as stark as all that. And one last point, lest we be accused of an overly modernist stance — if there was a proposal for a field project on the battle of Kadesh, we would be the first in the queue!