Understanding the Background of the Mediterranean Basin in a Few Words

To understand many of the current dynamics, we would need to revisit the distant past. Instead, I offer a basic summary of the different areas as I personally understand them and explain how that affects their approach to the management of archaeological heritage. The countries are heterogenous entities with rich political backgrounds that make practice different in each one.

• • The European Union: The northwestern part of the basin is part of the European Union. Portugal, Spain, France, Italy, Malta, Slovenia, Croatia, Bulgaria, Greece, and Cyprus form a far-from-homogeneous group that has had to adapt to major European legislation, but they do it in different ways.

• • The Balkans: After the fall of Yugoslavia at the end of the 1990s, several new nations had to develop their own institutions in a post-conflict world. Serbia retained the former institutions. Bosnia and Herzegovina is in a complicated state because archaeology was not part of the peace agreement. Meanwhile, ethnic conflict remains in the background while new states such as Montenegro start to build their institutions. Slovenia and Croatia rapidly joined the EU.

• • Small countries: Gibraltar, Andorra, Monaco, San Marino, and Vaticano are independent or semi-independent entities within, or next to, bigger countries, and they are remnants of past politics. It might seem that archaeological heritage is not an issue in these places, but as situations arise, these entities have different ways of dealing with them depending on which “big brother” they mimic.

• • The Middle East: After the end of the colonial powers and the establishment of the state of Israel, the region had to deal with very weak stability and an overwhelming presence of foreign missions. Inheriting the practice of their former colonial metropolis, they practice some surprisingly advanced approaches. Even so, conflict remains in the background, which adds continual risks to the safeguarding of archaeological heritage.

• • North Africa: This is probably the area in which AHM is the least developed, although it has recently started facing the threats that development poses for archaeological heritage. Much of the region is under authoritarian or semi-authoritarian regimes, even after the Arab Spring. AHM is still underdeveloped even in traditionally active countries such as Tunisia or Egypt, which have a rich history in the management of archaeological heritage.

• • Turkey: After the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the newly formed state focused on its own territory but still affected surrounding areas. Currently facing political challenges, its response to AHM and an active foreign policy—including direct interventions in Bosnia and Herzegovina, North Cyprus, or Lebanon—deserves a special mention.

Even as geopolitical differences provide some baseline differences across the region, a wide range of other issues shapes the practice of AHM in each area.

• • Legal traditions: Most of the legal developments in the Mediterranean Basin came from the legal traditions of each country. Although Mediterranean Europe developed its own legal traditions from Roman law, there are remnants of British law in places such as Gibraltar, Malta, and Jordan. This impacts basic issues such as land ownership and use, although contemporary trends have helped to shape policy in a deeper way. For example, the Franceschini Commission in Italy (Commissione Franceschini 1967) defined the basis for a new management of cultural heritage in Italy and was widely followed by other surrounding countries when they faced their new legislations. At the same time, the UNESCO Conventions and other European regulations affected policy deeply (Almansa-Sánchez Reference Almansa-Sánchez2017).

• • The conflicts: Syria and Libya are the most recent open armed conflicts in the region. Other territories, however, are still overcoming recent conflicts that clearly affect the management of archaeological heritage. North Cyprus is only recognized by Turkey, making occupation forces in the territory necessary. Kosovo is in open social and political conflict with Serbia, and it also needs the presence of peacekeepers. Bosnia and Herzegovina is still managed under the peace agreements with two clearly defined entities that draw the frontline of the war as the border. Israel and Palestine, as well as other actors in the region, have not ceased hostilities, even in regard to archaeology.

• • Other conflicts: Many other conflicts are still present in the region, with the rise of nationalism. For example, Spain and Catalonia have been in open political and civil conflict for several years now. The recent Prespa Agreement (2018) has not ended a long-lasting conflict between Greece and what is now North Macedonia. Archaeology has played an essential role in the construction of historical identities, including in the rise of far right and other extremist movements across the region.

• • Illicit trade and looting: Although there is a constant fight against looting and the illicit trade of antiquities (see Mackenzie et al. Reference Mackenzie, Brodie, Yates and Tsirogiannis2019), the recent conflicts in the Middle East have fostered a new peak (Hardy Reference Hardy2011–2019). Looting has never ceased to be a problem, and it continues to be crucial to the shaping of many policies.

With all these considerations in mind, the panorama becomes both complex and exciting. Although it is extremely difficult to identify commonalities beyond both the general will to protect archaeological heritage and limited resources (while the data to back up this claim are still being analyzed, this is one of the few issues that comes up in almost every interview), the variety of models and solutions applied will be an important focus during the next stages of the project. After all, one of the common challenges we share is the large amount of archaeological heritage—in many cases, monumental—that needs to be managed while trying to find the balance between conservation and development. This is the main space for creative mitigation. It is large, full of difficulties, and open to many critics, but surprisingly rich.

Exploring the Range of Models in Practice within the Mediterranean Basin

No two countries practice AHM in the same way. Furthermore, there are even differences in the details of management within regional entities in each country. The legal framework does not set clear or specific heritage policies in most countries. Although the procedures and bureaucracy asking for permits or intervention in the planning process might be clear in most places, the actors taking part in the process or the final decisions over the sites that require intervention are mixed.

I have defined a gradient of models depending on the outsourcing of the management of archaeological heritage—from countries where the state, through public administration, is in charge of the whole process to others where private initiative has taken control of most of the tasks. To make it simple, I defined three basic models: the Public Model, the Mixed Model, and the Private Model (Almansa-Sánchez Reference Almansa-Sánchez2020):

1. (1) The Public Model is one in which the competent administration (either by itself or through different departments or agencies) is in full control of the whole archaeological process, with no intervention of third-party actors beyond academia.

2. (2) The Private Model is one in which the competencies of the administration have been diminished to a minimum, with private initiative taking the lead in the process (no need of permits for excavation, private museums and semi-opened trade, private management of sites, etc.).

3. (3) The Mixed Model falls between the two extremes, which are rarely found. Normally, the competent administration keeps some of the main roles, and private actors are allowed to intervene to an extent, either to reduce the scheduled time for rescue archaeology or to manage certain aspects of a project. The basic public or private model defines the overall shape of these processes.

The influence of private intervention in the Mediterranean Basin is unequal among the different countries, but it is limited by the concept of public domain. Recognizing this, the state is forced to be an active part of the management process, either by granting permits for excavations (such as Portugal and Spain) or the use of archaeological sites, or by being the primary manager of the process, including preventive and rescue excavations. Some countries have created a department within the administration to manage archaeological work (for example, Lebanon, Cyprus, Egypt, and Serbia). Meanwhile, others have public bodies that work independently (as in France and Morocco), even as companies (such as the Israel Antiquities Authority, where approximately 80% of its budget comes from contract work). Most countries, however, are open to outsourcing the undertaking of excavations in moments of need (such as Greece), or when forced by competency regulations (again, Israel), as well as the direct management of specific sites (such as Spain and Italy). Even the direction of the interventions is controversial in a context of contract with countries such as Spain granting nominal permits to professionals in the private sector who take full charge and responsibility, and others such as Italy keeping archaeologists in the Soprintendenza (the department in charge within the Ministry of Culture) in charge of direction while interventions are conducted by a third party—normally a company or cooperative.

Policies such as the “polluter pays principle” (which can be tracked to the nineteenth century [Fressoz Reference Fressoz2013]) are commonly used in most countries, mandating a source of funding for the work. This model, however, which has become common practice across the world, raises other issues. One of the main complaints is the inability to conduct research beyond basic documentation with the funds allocated in this process. Laurent Olivier (Reference Olivier and Resco2016) provides one of the best examples with an engaging story—apparently real—about the counsel of an African warlord for the negotiations to make construction companies pay for excavations in areas of risk during the shaping of the French model. What was seen as a victory, at the time, became the “lost battle” in France, allowing any intervention with little space for mitigation beyond preventive work. Lebanon and Israel have an apparently well-settled infrastructure, but archaeology in Portugal, Spain, and Italy—where research is secondary and the labor market weak—has become another bureaucratic step for developers (for Spain, Díaz del Río Reference Díaz del Río and López2000; Parga-Dans et al. Reference Parga-Dans, Barreiro and Varela-Poussa2016). North Africa still has a long way to go because it is able to protect only previously known sites, and it has a research-focused agenda in place that offers little space for prevention outside urban areas. That is also the case of Turkey. With an increasingly nationalized model, preventive and rescue archaeology are mainly practiced with limitations in the vicinity of major cities and some of the big development projects. The situation in the Balkans is even more complicated. A view on Albania can be found in this issue (Bejko Reference Bejko2020), but the difficulties of working in postwar Bosnia and Herzegovina include an open administrative conflict in which the National Museum itself is still in legal limbo after not being mentioned in the peace agreement. Montenegro is in the process of approving the basic legislative documents for the management of archaeological heritage while trying to simultaneously enact that management. Greece struggles to intervene in all the situations needed. Archaeologists from the Ministry of Culture are overwhelmed with bureaucracy, and although they can apply for two months off every year for research, they can hardly meet daily schedules and are forced to start outsourcing some interventions. And in Cyprus, the whole process of AHM, including museums, lies in the hands of a couple dozen overworked professionals in a diminished Department of Antiquities. That it is housed in the Ministry of Transport, Communications, and Works is also a rare and notable characteristic. Whereas most countries have a Ministry of Culture—or similar—hosting the equivalent to a Department of Antiquities, Cyprus represents a unique reality in the Mediterranean. Even though this might seem to ease the planning process and mitigation, it diminishes the strength of the Department of Antiquities and sometimes biases planning decisions in favor of the developers. This calls into question not the independence but primarily the power of the Department of Antiquities within the scheme.

The lack of human and economic resources in place appears to be the primary problem in the management of archaeological heritage in most of the countries of the Mediterranean Basin. Trying to handle the most urgent daily matters is usually enough to keep everybody busy. In this sense, creative mitigation is a way to make the process easier for all. As we will see below, it is paradoxical that the little space given to creativity by the constraints of a set of management models always in crisis is sometimes the best scenario in which to become creative. If, however, archaeological sites are receiving a great deal of attention generally, public outreach is a different story.

Approaches to Mitigation: The Sites

Almost every country in the Mediterranean Basin has a procedure to intervene in the event of major developments, such as infrastructure projects. The construction of roads, pipelines, or even new fiber optic lines in cities usually requires an archaeological intervention. That is not always the case with small developments such as houses or agricultural interventions, which can happen without the knowledge of the authorities and therefore impact archaeology.

When examining the effectiveness of a management model during the interviews, doubts appear in the majority of the countries, leading sometimes to the identification of real problems in controlling the situation. Illegal building and construction projects, as well as legitimate projects that are not communicated to the relevant authorities, are probably the main reason for archaeological loss in the Mediterranean. If we consider that saving by record usually means the publication of the archaeological work in the technical literature, the situation is even worse. Still, the existence of a procedure to intervene, at least on some occasions, is a silver lining.

To compare it to Section 106 of the National Historic Preservation Act in the United States, the EIA rules set within the European Union include cultural heritage as one of the elements to evaluate within the planning process. A similar approach has been taken by most countries in the region, although the capacity differs in each country. In a standard process, the first step is evaluation of the project and the properties affected, including the completion of surveys where the area is not already documented. In the likely event of finding any remains (the Mediterranean Basin has a very high density of archaeological sites), an initial mitigation process starts. The common or standard solution: modification of the development project or (more likely) excavation. Furthermore, in many countries, there is a monitoring of construction to avoid negative impacts on other unknown sites.

In addition, once excavated, the fate of an archaeological site can be far from ideal, especially when the power of the department in charge of AHM has little influence within the wider government. Every year, many cases of destruction can be followed in the media across the Mediterranean (for recent examples, see Fox Reference Fox2019; Tondo Reference Tondo2019). Some grassroots movements emerge eventually from civic or professional circles in relation to major discoveries, typically in urban contexts (for example, a long history in Cordoba, Spain [Vaquerizo Reference Vaquerizo2018], or the last petition in Thessaloniki, GreeceFootnote ¹). One of the limitations of the application of those models with weak implementation of preventive archaeology is the fact that most projects move ahead, and archaeology usually happens in the context of rescue more than avoidance. The official discourse from the competent administrations tries, however, to highlight those small examples where projects were modified or other preventive actions taken, although the majority of the interventions happen with ongoing earthworks and, in many cases, under precarious conditions. We lack statistical data about the final decisions about the sites that have already been subject to intervention, but the options are (1) preservation in situ (open to the public, not covered but closed to public eye, or covered by the final works), (2) relocation (either opening or not opening to the public), or (3) destruction. A qualitative assessment based on the interviews conducted to date in every country is that a site rarely ends up visi(ta)ble, and more often than desired, it is destroyed to continue with the works. Of course, many exceptions apply, and urban contexts are probably the best example.

As we can see in Figure 2, there are plenty of examples of visi(ta)ble archaeological remains within many modern cities with long histories. Indeed, it is rare to encounter a city in the Mediterranean Basin with no archaeological remains that are somehow visi(ta)ble. Urban planning has become complicated, and the preservation of most of the sites we encounter every year is therefore very complicated as well. We lack proper open information on interventions in most countries, especially if we want to focus in specific areas such as cities. We can, however, talk openly about hundreds (if not thousands) of archaeological excavations happening every year in the whole region, many of them within urban areas.

FIGURE 2.

Six examples of urban integration of archaeological remains: (a) a Phoenician necropolis in Tangiers, Morocco; (b) a Classical cemetery in the Metro of Athens, Greece; (c) a Roman gate in Turin, Italy; (d) an Ottoman gate in Belgrade, Serbia; (e) Roman remains in the center of Sofia, Bulgaria; (f) Roman remains in the center of Beirut, Lebanon. Photographs courtesy of the author.

Administrations have a duty by law to preserve and share what is reflected in the solutions they find to mitigate impact. Here, once again, the response of every country—even every city—varies completely. There are no fixed rules, and arbitrariness is the norm. Indeed, the interviews show complaints about this because the preference for certain types of remains may be due to political or personal issues. Professionalism is still high in the sector, however, and decisions tend to be made more by committees than individuals, at least for the most important matters.

As a result, we can see a wide range of actions taken to mitigate impact, some of which would be considered alternative—or creative—mitigation. Examples include the location of green areas on the site (sometimes referred to in the United States as “preservation in place”), even if it is not going to be open; signs in situ for reburied remains, even if they are as unclear as the one in Belgrade (Figure 2); integration of the remains in the new buildings (a surprisingly common one); avoidance and compensation to the developers (for example, allowing more building height in exchange for a reduction in the building footprint); or even the expropriation or purchase of the land, when there are resources available.

Beirut (see Figure 2) is an impressive example. In the mid-1990s, the whole center was excavated before starting with the post-civil-war reconstruction (Direction Générale des Antiquités 1996). Today, several areas somehow remain open, and they are interpreted with signage. The outcome might not look perfect, but the effort has no precedent, even in major cities such as Istanbul, Athens, and Rome (even compared to Mussolini's opening of the Via dei Fori Imperiali).

Indeed, walking around many cities where archaeology is very present leads to disappointment when one sees abandoned lots that are full of vegetation or garbage, or sites that are supposedly open to the public but mostly closed, with signs of abandonment (see Figure 3).

FIGURE 3.

Four examples of apparent abandonment of enhanced archaeological sites in urban contexts: (a) remains of walls with no interpretation in Cordoba, Spain; (b) graffiti in the Galerius Palace of Thessaloniki, Greece; (c) unguarded Doclea in Podgorica, Montenegro; (d) closed site in Küçükyali, Istanbul, Turkey. Photographs courtesy of the author.

Approaches to Mitigation: The People

Although the interviews aim to address the importance of social engagement, reality reflects a lack of outreach in most countries. The conservation of archaeological heritage is the main priority of the competent administrations, and that comes with a price. Far from supporting the complaints of archaeology as a burden for development (for example, Stamouli Reference Stamouli2018), public comments are negative when management does not consider interested parties and the general public. From delays in permits to the expropriation of private property or restrictions in the use of public spaces, the image of AHM is not always good. Furthermore, the poor conservation of many sites, or the regulation of private property use in historical centers, creates an environment of mistrust and lack of comprehension toward heritage management. Also, tourism has become a problem in many Mediterranean regions, fostering unsustainable development and raising critics of local exclusion due to gentrification. There is a feeling in many Mediterranean countries that archaeological heritage is for tourists, which causes local populations to disengage.

Although consultation with certain direct stakeholders is quite common in the Mediterranean Basin (between different departments and other administrations, with developers or other agencies, etc.), public consultation is often a mere announcement of the works (not the archaeology itself) that is usually made through official channels, with little time to comment. One important difference with respect to North American tradition is that citizens on the east side of the Atlantic Ocean are not that engaged in these processes to begin with. The identification of stakeholders is a weak pillar even on the European side of the Mediterranean, and in many cases, the public is poorly engaged in any procedure. Furthermore, the general fragmentation of the bureaucracy among different departments and administrations, along with the existing gap with society, makes communication and outreach more difficult.

When more inclusive, participative processes—such as the one recently experienced in Madrid for the remodeling of Plaza España—are put in place, the result is not always satisfactory. In this case, not only was it difficult to participate in the consultation but the process did not consider the presumed archaeological impact on an area that was known to be sensitive, which led to problems (Europa Press 2019a, 2019b). The remodeling of Plaza de Oriente in the 1980s, just a few meters away, was already controversial (Almansa-Sánchez and Corpas-Cívicos Reference Almansa-Sánchez, Corpas-Cívicos and Apaydin2020:113) due to important archaeological finds that extended toward Plaza de España. Because this information had not been kept in mind by the city council during the planning process, a rescue intervention by the regional government was needed. We as citizens expect the government to act and protect the greater good, including archaeology. Based on both the literature and the interviews, I do not know of any open archaeological heritage consulting process. Indeed, administrators fear that people might choose against the conservation of a site.

Works will always happen unless there is an important movement against them, which leaves mitigation measures to decision makers. Still, there should be a place for public participation in the process and, at least, proper communication about the actions taken and the sites involved. The reality is, again, not homogeneous and mostly disappointing.

In most countries studied, sharing information about ongoing works is forbidden or runs directly through an information office within the governmental office in charge. Unless the remains excavated are considered to be important, press releases about the works are not published. Visits to or tours of the excavation are not possible. Indeed, information is not even communicated within the work environment. Talks or open days rarely happen, and interpretive panels are usually avoided. Once the excavations have been completed, if the site is covered or destroyed, there is little information about them beyond the technical literature.

Of course, in such a large and heterogeneous territory, this pessimistic view is not always the norm. Inrap (Institut national de recherches archéologiques preventives [National Institute for Preventive Archaeology Research]), a French institution usually referred to as a good model in Europe, has many examples of engagement during works and initiatives, such as the National Days of Archaeology every summer (Journées nationales de l'archéologie). Israel has recently organized an exhibition in the Bible Lands Museum in Jerusalem about the works in Tell Beit Shemesh during the construction of the new highway. Madrid also organized an exhibition after—and only after—the works during the construction of the M-30 tunnels a decade ago (Rus and Domínguez Reference Rus and Domínguez2008). Although laudable, these examples are not enough, and even this way, sites fall into oblivion. As an example, informative panels, even if they are just general announcements of the works in the area, should be engaging and not exclusive. As seen in Figure 5, small, simple efforts to communicate can be appealing, whereas in other cases, the message can push people away.

FIGURE 4.

The poetry of empty panels. Tombs of the Kings, Paphos, Cyprus. Photograph courtesy of the author.

FIGURE 5.

When archaeology happens. Contrast: (a) fence during the works in the new Beirut History Museum, Lebanon; (b) notice before getting closer to the excavations in Nestor Palace, Greece. Photographs courtesy of the author.

New technologies can offer an alternative, making sites accessible that otherwise would be hidden. Their implementation, however, is marginal and usually concentrated in well-known monumental sites that already have a good interpretation. Some administrations have tried to offer good online tools to access archaeological sites (such as ODYSSEUS by the Greek Ministry of Culture and SportsFootnote ²), although the lack of maintenance and the rapid growth of information make it difficult to keep them current and working. To finish this section on a positive note, I would like to highlight an interesting tool provided by the City Council of Barcelona, which makes summaries and general information of all the interventions within the city available.Footnote ³ In a context where most of the information about the archaeological interventions is becoming gray literature in the best of the scenarios, these initiatives offer a good example.