"You call *this* Archaeology?"

A recurrent sparring with my friend and fellow Ankaralı Dr. Sapinuwa made me question my interest for Archaeology and unexpectedly I received the answers I needed from my long deceased paternal grandfather.

Like any true lover of History’s footprints, Dr. Sapinuwa can’t help but react with justified horror at every mention of Heinrich Schliemann, the proto-archeologist treasure-hunter who excavated¹  the ancient city of Troy, vindicating his conviction that it was not a fictional place, but destroying much of it in the process.

And every time I feel awkward, because Schliemann, his obsession the “Iliad” and his successful quest are among the first things that I learned of the ancient world. Possibly the story of Schliemann’s quest was what first attracted me to Archaeology (though fortunately I did not add an attempt at that particular career to my many mistakes and detours.)

Of course, the eclectic doctor is right: the “discoverer” of Troy was an indefensible butcher of archaeological sites and a looter too: not only he illegally exported “Priam’s Treasure” but he faked its discovery, to the point that we don’t know if he really found it in the layer that he (mistakenly) claimed to be the Homeric Troy, if he really found it all at once nor if he even really found it at the excavations, meaning that the gold hoard has little if any scientific or historical value.

And yet…

If it wasn’t because of any misplaced affection for a character from my childhood stories, who, as I later learned, embodied everything that I abhor, I needed to understand why bad-mouthing such a despicable figure made me feel uneasy.

On the one hand, I instinctively dismiss judging history with modern standards. Archaeology as a science was in its infancy back then. Until the 1860s, “archaeological” excavations in Pompeii had the only purpose of recovering pieces of art like statues, marbles or mosaics, destroying pretty much everything that was in the way. Findings deemed “immoral” were locked up for a century.

Thousands of ancient scrolls were lost forever in clumsy attempts to unroll them. But it was the sheer amount of treasures looted that laid bare, eventually, the futility of collecting antiquities without studying their history. It was the realization that Schliemann’s or Evans’ work was destroying more history than it uncovered to allow the generation of scientists like Carter or Woolley to take over.

In 2012, the British archaeologists who found the burial of King Richard III (whose winter grumpiness and fondness for horses were immortalized by Shakespeare), made important discoveries studying the soil in his grave: should we blame their predecessors for failing to preserve the dirt they dug in, when they could never imagine that one day it could be tested for parasites’ eggs?

But it was not what bothered me. Destruction of cultural heritage is always inexcusable, even when perpetrated to recover handpicked treasures, and surely learning from past mistakes doesn’t excuse their catastrophic consequences. I realized that I was not upset by the criticism of Schliemann’s carefully constructed legend, but rather by the loss of its aura of romance, which propelled Archaeology into public imagination.

Most early archaeologists were unscrupulous adventurers, even when their scientific work was actually valuable. Historical figures like T. E. Lawrence or Gertrude Bell were not too different from characters like Indiana Jones or Lara Croft.

In the dawn of mass media, it was their adventures, not their scientific achievements, that triggered mass interest in archaeological discoveries, influencing literature, art, even fashion. That photo of Sophia Schliemann wearing a Trojan woman’s jewels speaks volumes on the meaning of Archaeology. It says “It could have been me.”

When science misses that kind of empathy, it loses connection with people, who turn to fictionalized but fascinating pseudo-history as seen in films or dubious “documentaries.” Public awareness, crucial for funding and preservation, is then focused on spectacular monuments seen in movies, rather than on unremarkable but scientifically priceless relics.

It’s probably not by chance that in a world where mass-communication included Stephen Hawking’s bestsellers and David Attenborough’s documentaries, prominent “Archaeology” popularizers are now Atlantis searchers or alien hunters.

The tide can still be turned: in our age of influencers, young archaeologists are fighting back against pseudo-scientific disinformation. Scientists like Flint Dibble are proving that if exposed properly, scientific archaeology can be as exciting as fictional adventures. But this is also the age of disinformation, and they are often vilified by the same media that capitalize on political disinformation too.

Archaeologists seem tortured by the unspoken suspicion that if they suddenly disappeared, the world would go on without them and be just fine. But unlike Astronomy and space exploration, whose “utility” to mankind’s daily life is always questioned, Archaeology is only marginally scrutinized in this sense. I suspect that it is more because it provides valuable touristic attractions than for its invaluable insights into the past. Sadly, mass tourism is guided more by Hollywood films and pseudo-history than by the science behind extraordinary discoveries.

Archaeological sites’ addiction to mass tourism and the popular misconceptions fueling it are probably the greatest danger for conservation of heritage after ISIS-style demolitions and looting or smuggling. From Ephesus and Pompeii to Giza and Athens priceless testimonies of our past are inexorably being turned into anti-historical theme parks to attract the kind of tourists who don't even know what they are visiting.

In this context, the doctored story of a passionate businessman guided by his love for Homer to discover lost civilizations can still inspire true love for History, even with the cautionary tale about his actual destructive methods. There are worse motivations for archaeological research than trying to prove the ancient classics right. Schliemann himself unwittingly provided a trademark logo for the worst criminals in History. 

Authoritarian, expansionist or simply nationalist governments often claim legacies of ancient civilizations when convenient, from Middle East to the South China Sea. When Italy was a Fascist dictatorship, the regime appropriated ancient Rome’s legacy to justify its ambitions of a colonial Empire.

Coincidentally, I found a photo taken in those times by my grandfather just on a day when I traded another barb with Dr. Sapinuwa. To my credit, I recognized it immediately (I don’t know how) and this was a source of pride by itself. But the real prize was the story told by the photo.

In the late 1920s the Fascist regime, eager to show-off Rome’s glorious past, sponsored the underwater excavation of two massive ships built for emperor Caligula on the Lake of Nemi, near Rome. This photo of the first ship, apparently taken when the excavations were not open to the public yet, means that my then 29 years old grandfather, already an inflexible captain, uncharacteristically took a day off and left his ship for a day to witness the most important discovery in the history of Roman naval archaeology.

I barely knew my paternal grandfather, despite bearing his name. His public persona, a daring captain in the merchant marine who survived the battle of Mediterranean as a reluctant but decorated hero was well known, but not his personal life. I learned of his surprising passion for photography decades after his death, when an aunt gifted me a box of photos and his ancient camera. Later on, when I already lived in Ankara, I found out of his connections with Turkey’s republican history. Now, from an old photo, I discovered his genuine love for Archaeology. Suddenly I realized that my childhood stories about Mythology and History were a family tradition, improbably passed on by a grandpa who despite his extreme rule-abiding, discipline-centered personality, couldn’t resist an escapade to be part of that world for a day.

Somehow, that gives a deeper meaning to my own escapades and detours.

From that old photo with an excited caption scribbled around its edges I got a glimpse into a long deceased ancestor’s personal feelings, the vibes that a true archaeological finding should give. The science of Archaeology with its sensational discoveries, the astonishing art and even the political exploitation of it should never let us forget that History is mainly about this, understanding our own feelings, perils and needs by empathizing with forgotten people who endured the same things long before we did and somehow managed to do well, long enough to pass the torch on to us.

1  He didn’t really “discover” the location of Troy