In the contributions that follow seven archaeologists, of different backgrounds and working in different ways and places, attempt to answer the question ‘Can an archaeologist be a public intellectual?’ This discussion follows a special forum, sponsored by this journal, held at the European Archaeologists’ Association annual conference in Helsinki in 2012. The participants in that forum were Åsa Larsson, Layla Renshaw, Ghattas Sajey, Audrey Horning and Thomas Meier, who was unfortunately unable to offer his contribution for publication. The published discussion is supplemented by contributions from Cornelius Holtorf, Fredrik Svanberg, Nathan Schlanger and Jaime Almansa Sánchez. We hope that this special section captures some of the spirit of lively debate that characterized the forum.

Recent, non-anthropocentric explorations of the interaction between human and non-human animals have resulted in many groundbreaking studies. In this ‘animal turn’, zooarchaeology, which deals with and has access to the material traces of animals that existed alongside humans over the last 2.5 million years, could occupy a privileged and influential position. Despite some encouraging efforts, however, zooarchaeology's ability to contribute to these discussions is heavily limited by the subdiscipline's firm footing within anthropocentric ontologies and reductionist epistemologies. This paper outlines a framework for a new social zooarchaeology that moves beyond the paradigm and discourse of ‘subsistence’ and of representationist and dichotomous thinking, which have treated non-human animals merely and often exclusively as nutritional or symbolic resources for the benefit of humans. Building on alternative zoontologies which reinstate the position of non-human animals as sentient and autonomous agents, this framework foregrounds the intercorporeal, sensuous and affective engagements through which humans and non-human animals are mutually constituted. These ideas are illustrated with two case studies focusing on human–whooper swan interactions in the Danish Later Mesolithic, based on the faunal assemblage from the site of Aggersund in North Jutland, and the whooper swan remains found associated with the Grave 8 at Vedbæk.

All living creatures exist with others in relationships – networks of ecological, biological, psychological and social interactions – that are ongoing and meaningful, and at some level affect their animate neighbours. This point seems so self-evident that it should not need stating. Yet in many instances both archaeologists and scholars within other disciplines remain mired within an anthropocentric metanarrative which serves the purpose of limiting the study of these relationships either to the human use, or to the (human) cultural construction, of non-human animals. That is changing. In arguing that a ‘shift . . . of emphasis to the live animal as an autonomous being with its own agency and even its known perspective on other species is long overdue’ (p. 116), Nick Overton and Yannis Hamiliakis offer a valuable contribution toward refining the ongoing archaeological re-examination of the potential gestalt of the human–animal social interface.

Stating the value of archaeology for contemporary society is a very difficult task hardly undertaken by archaeologists. Work with a contemporary record directly linked to local communities, and the approach of public archaeology, have helped to bring society and archaeology closer together. However, the role of a public intellectual goes beyond archaeology, delving into current social worries. Is it possible to play this game from archaeology? The multiple and complex relations between archaeology and society open the door to participation in public debates, but we stand to lose our essence. We face a Shakespearean dilemma, a choice between having an influential voice in the present, or just an expert opinion.

A theoretically nuanced human–animal studies now stands at the forefront of many academic disciplines. The ‘theoretical lag’ characteristic of archaeology means that a subject largely reliant on the remains of humans and animals, and their associated material residues, lies lacking in theoretical sophistication.

The question ‘Can an archaeologist be a public intellectual?’ appears to express both an unfulfilled desire and a secret hope of an entire professional corps to count among them at least a few public intellectuals. I suggest that the state of the discipline of archaeology makes it harder, compared with other disciplines, for its professional representatives to address present-day issues and relate to public debates. I also suggest that maybe the most significant effect of the fact that society's public intellectuals generally do not have degrees in archaeology is that participants in public debates and policy makers are unaware of how various applications of archaeology and cultural heritage can benefit contemporary society. This potential will therefore have to be realized in different ways.

I am sitting at my computer with a purring cat resting its head against the keyboard – a real animal–animal situation and a reciprocal relationship. For 15 years, my wife and I looked after horses that our children had left behind when they moved off into the world. The reason was that the horses belonged, in their own way, to the extended family. So I have no difficulty understanding what Overton and Hamilakis call ‘social zooarchaeology’. As a pet owner who has personally observed the individuality of animals – from hens to horses – I have no problem accepting their view that animals are individuals, something that my urban colleagues often question. When discussing with hunters who have specialized for many years in one type of hunting, they can describe how different individuals in flocks – for example, among red deer and moose – can behave. They spend many hours moving in the terrain and observe the different animal species, not to hunt them but to acquire further knowledge about the animals, sometimes to find out which animals should later be culled, but often only for the sheer pleasure of feeling a kind of relationship between themselves and the animals they follow.

Can, or should, archaeologists adopt the mantle of the public intellectual and bring archaeology to bear on contemporary issues within divided societies? The line between the archaeologist and the citizen is never clear-cut. How do we balance the recognition that our knowledge and expertise allow us to exert influence with the necessity to act as responsible members of our own societies? I define a public intellectual as one who is not afraid to step outside professional circles and comfort zones and to engage, challenge and comment on issues of broad relevance in the present. Employing Northern Ireland as a case study, I argue that archaeologists have a responsibility to provide leadership and commentary regarding the fraught relationship between past and present.

The article by Overton and Hamilakis challenges so-called traditional zooarchaeology and works as a manifesto for a new social zooarchaeology, as the authors call it. This new social zooarchaeology moves beyond the thinking of animals as (purely) resources and instead reinstates their position as sentient and autonomous agents. The approach is fresh and evidence-based (e.g. Robb 2010). The sites and bone materials used as examples come from Late Mesolithic Denmark: the Ertebølle site Aggersund in Jutland and Ertebølle Grave 8 at Vedbæk, Sjælland. Both sites were excavated and analysed many years ago, but the bone material has been reanalysed and interpreted for this study.

While other fields of the humanities have often brought forth intellectuals taking part in public discourse, influencing politics and society, archaeologists have been wary of sticking their necks out after the Second World War. However, the tradition of leaving it to others to connect prehistoric narratives to current politics or new scientific results is damaging both to the public understanding of our past and to our own discipline. In this article I argue that preconceptions of human past are guiding much decision making both locally and globally, and that it is therefore our responsibility to take an active part and to problematize this. Failing to do so only means that other people will cherry-pick our research for their own ends. More specifically, it will also lead to a drying up of funding in these difficult economic times, as archaeology takes a back seat to anthropology and sociology. I draw on personal experience to offer suggestions on how one could go about becoming part of the public debate and, in the long run, perhaps carve out a position as a public intellectual.

This contribution will consider how the practice of archaeology ‘brings a public into being’. Drawing on examples of the excavation of mass graves from the Spanish Civil War and the First World War, particularly those cases resulting from activism on the part of memory campaign groups, this paper considers how the act of excavation can serve as a catalyst for members of the public to coalesce and deliberate the complex and far-reaching questions associated with the post-mortem treatment and commemoration of the dead. The necessity to fulfil the aims of particular constituencies, such as the relatives of the dead, or the need to maintain a position of impartiality, may militate against the archaeologist's full intellectual engagement with these questions, resulting in the archaeologist's role being defined primarily by their technical or practical contribution. The concept of the issue network is explored as a way to understand the formation of memory campaigns and the archaeologist's relationship with the public. The idea of the network underlines the potential for the archaeologist to make an intellectual contribution that develops and democratizes the debate surrounding an excavation, even if their position is contested, and so bring a wider public into being.

First of all, congratulations to Nick Overton and Yannis Hamilakis for an excellent and stimulating paper, made all the better for including two considered and rich case studies. Though in no way an animal-bone specialist, I find myself in general agreement with their approach, which attempts to persuade zooarchaeologists of the value of engaging further with particular trends within theory in archaeology (and other disciplines) from the last decade or so. It is with the implications of relational archaeologies that I particularly wish to engage: I concur with the authors that zooarchaeology (and other subfields), as well as archaeology more generally, could benefit from challenges to anthropocentrism, whether expressed in ontological or other forms, and ultimately produce more holistic as well as more diverse pasts. My comments are thus more an exploration of some of the issues raised in this paper than a commentary upon the contents per se.

The archaeologist's role in public life is not limited to only understanding, reflecting and informing on the past, but also should reveal who we are at present and help society in manoeuvring into the future. We are a major part of the public intellectuals who should intervene in public debate, not only in the media but also as a part of the decision-making process. We can contribute to making a difference in many aspects of human life, intellectually, socially, culturally and politically. This paper will aim to shed light on my involvement in the Israeli–Palestinian Archaeology Working Group (IPAWG). I will focus on how a small group of archaeologists has contributed positively to one of the most complicated political conflicts in modern history. I will also address an example from Al-Jib to indicate the role of archaeologists as scientists, citizens and public figures.

These are interesting times for the exploration of the relationships between humans and other animals. The ‘animal turn’ is in full swing in a number of disciplines; anthropologists have started talking of the emergence of a multi-species ethnography (Kirksey and Helmreich 2010); and even archaeologists have, somehow hesitantly, started contributing to wider discussions within animal studies (e.g. see the recent – 2013 – special issue of the journal Society and animals devoted to archaeology; and Harris and Hamilakis, in press). Another indication that things are changing is the overwhelmingly positive response to our ‘manifesto’ by most commentators, who have offered many valuable thoughts which expand our reflections in many and interesting directions: we are grateful. Rather than trying to comment on every single point raised in this discussion, which in any case would have been impossible in the space provided, we have selected instead a couple of issues that, we hope, readers will find engaging and fruitful.

En route to becoming one of archaeology's best-known writers on prehistoric landscapes and monuments, Richard Bradley had a brief brush with the law and almost became a Romanist! Here he reflects on his early archaeological forays as a boy, his perspectives on different field methodologies, and how his ways of writing have changed over the years.

Following some comments on the notion of ‘public’ intellectuals (can they be otherwise?), this brief paper focuses on the intellectual roles that could be played by archaeologists today. Exposure to the media, usually following some spectacular discovery, serves to confirm the romantico-empirical image of the discipline, but should also lead to an engagement with key public debates. Three such debates are indicated: the idea that ‘African man has yet to enter history’ as expressed by the former French president; the creation of a Maison de l'histoire de France under the tutelage of the Ministry of National Identity; and, across the Channel, the Localism Bill, which pushes decision making to an untenably low level while promoting a historically and archaeologically questionable view of local communities.

Mortuary practices could vary almost indefinitely in the Viking Age. Within a theoretical framework of ritualization and architectural philosophy, this article explores how doors and thresholds were used in mortuary practice and ritual behaviour. The door is a deep metaphor for transition, transformation and liminality. It is argued that Viking Age people built ‘doors to the dead’ of various types, such as freestanding portals, causewayed ring-ditches or thresholds to grave mounds; or on occasion even buried their dead in the doorway. The paper proposes that the ritualized doors functioned in three ways: they created connections between the dead and the living; they constituted boundaries and thresholds that could possibly be controlled; and they formed between-spaces, expressing liminality and, conceivably, deviance. Ultimately, the paper underlines the profound impact of domestic architecture on mortuary practice and ritual behaviour in the Viking Age.

Becoming a public intellectual, a voice read in major newspapers, asked for comments on television and in cultural debates, in an age where the range of platforms for expression are diversifying in a new digital landscape, has less to do with who you are – there are any number of potential public intellectuals – than with the mastery of public forms of expression. Going public as an intellectual is about the ability to build such a position, and there are typical paths to do so. It's a process. Cultural experts such as archaeological researchers have excellent starting points for engaging publicly and should do so in order to contribute with their specific cultural knowledge. Why don't you?

This paper argues that material culture should be brought even more to the forefront in post-colonial archaeology. At present, post-colonial analyses start from a baseline of pinned-down, delineated things as processed through artefact analysis, to proceed to interpretations of how these things were used in fluid, multidirectional, ambivalent social and cultural interactions. But what if things themselves can be fluid rather than bounded? Can we look into the various ways in which things were defined in the past, and the various relations they enabled? Such a change of perspective can also help redress the imbalance within post-colonial studies between, on the one hand, consumption as the field in which meaning is negotiated and, on the other hand, production as offering merely a template for the inscription of that meaning. A case study of so-called pre-sigillata production in southern Gaul articulates the benefit to be gained from considering these issues.

Symbolism, symbolically mediated culture and the production of symbolically charged artefacts are today almost unanimously accepted in palaeoanthropology as the defining hallmarks of cognitively and behaviourally modern human beings. This orthodoxy, however, suffers from a number of serious problems, including pervasive dualisms, an internally contradictory methodology and an unwillingness to grapple critically with the symbolism concept. It is suggested that the symbolism paradigm originated in the ideas of Leslie White in the 1940s and 1950s, but did not become a serious presence in palaeoanthropology until the 1980s. This is explained in terms of the adoption of cladistic phylogenetics in that period, and by reference to new evidence that removed Neanderthals from the ancestry of living peoples. The implications of the growing body of evidence for Neanderthal symbolism are discussed. It is concluded that the symbolism paradigm is essentialist and ahistorical, and has acquired the character of an origins myth.