The Rise of the European Project

The European Union is the fruit of the death and destruction that consumed the European continent for many centuries. Particularly, following the tragedy of the Second World War, the elites of Europe slowly built up an organization that could guard against horrors of which this continent has seen too much (Dinan, Reference Dinan2014: 23–52). The necessity of such an endeavour was already voiced by the likes of Winston Churchill, who in 1946 asked for a United States of Europe under which the European Family could dwell in peace (Churchill, Reference Churchill1946). Today we are closer than ever to such an edifice.

The European project was gradually put together throughout the second half of the twentieth century. Starting as a Steel and Coal Union, the project slowly grew into the European Economic Area, following several cornerstone meetings and treaties such as the Treaty of Rome (1957). After the Treaty of Maastricht (1992), the political organisation that we call today the European Union came into being, followed shortly by the European Monetary Union and the Schengen agreement on border controls (1995).

While the European Union was steadily taking shape in the west, much of central and eastern Europe was under the heavy iron fist of the USSR. Countries such as Hungary, Poland, or Bulgaria were forced to accept totalitarian communist regimes. This division between east and west, referred to as the Iron Curtain, would stand until 1989. Following Gorbachev's Perestroika, the USSR relaxed its hold on eastern Europe, which led to the fall of the Berlin Wall and gave the peoples of central and eastern Europe the freedom to find their own way. Most took this opportunity rapidly, embracing democracy, though the demons of the communist period, and the nationalist ideologies that accompanied them, came back at times to haunt these countries. Sometimes, such as during the disintegration of Yugoslavia, this took extreme forms, reminding everyone of the horrors that Europe was trying to leave behind.

The fall of communist regimes saw the continuous expansion of the European project towards the East. One by one, the Czech Republic, Romania, Croatia and others joined the European Union, giving further hope to the idea of a united Europe. As the last barriers across the continent are lifted the future of the European project should look bright and secure. But it does not.

The Foundering Union

Today's Europe may be closer than ever to Churchill's dream of a United States of Europe, but recent years have revealed deep cracks in the European edifice, running to its very core. The prospects of ever-looming economic austerity, the refugee crisis, the Greek bailout, and Brexit provide fuel for far-right parties that are winning more and more ground in numerous countries with their anti-Brussels discourse. With every national parliamentary election in countries such as Germany, Italy, Hungary, or Poland, the European project is rapidly being chipped awayFootnote ².

The recent international political developments are also raising alarm bells as to the fate of the European Union. To the east, we witness the escalating anti-west rhetoric of Russian President Vladimir Putin and his aggressive external policy, culminating in the annexation of Crimea in 2014 (Snyder, Reference Snyder2018). To the west, the traditional ally of Europe, the USA, elected a president in 2016 that actively promotes disinformation and policies that come into conflict with European interests and values (Bennett & Livingston, Reference Bennett and Livingston2018). Once a candidate to join the European Union and strategic neighbour, Turkey has seen a serious turn towards totalitarianism, with the increasingly authoritarian regime of President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (Çaǧaptay, Reference Çaǧaptay2017). Many other countries around the globe are embracing right-leaning governments. Populist leaders and populist politics in general are gaining ground both within and around Europe.

An intertwined and even more serious threat to the European Union comes from within and stems from a fundamental crisis of identity (Fukuyama, Reference Fukuyama2018: 140–53). People still identify themselves primarily through their national identities and events such as Brexit may even exacerbate this trend (Schlanger, Reference Schlanger2017). There is a serious lack of attachment towards the European Union (Robyn, Reference Robyn and Robyn2005; Karolewski et al., Reference Karolewski, Kaina, Kühn, Kaina, Karolewski and Kühn2016). A recent survey by a Brussels-based think-tank found that nearly half of the over eleven thousand people surveyed thought that the European Union is irrelevant (Davies 2018; Friends of Europe, 2018). The need for a European identity has been signalled early on as a primary necessity for the success of the European project: the Declaration on European Identity, issued by the members of the European CommunityFootnote ³, dates to 1973. Efforts have been made to develop EU-wide symbols, such as an anthem and a flag, and to make citizens feel closer to the European institutions (Sonntag, Reference Sonntag, Lucarelli, Cerutti and Schmidt2011). However, most arguments for a European identity remained highly intellectual or theoretical, producing a message that mainly reached the educated echelons (Risse, Reference Risse, Herrmann, Risse and Brewer2004). What is ultimately needed to create a Europe-wide solidarity (sensu Habermas, Reference Habermas2015: 3–28) is an emotional attachment to the idea of Europe. Identity cannot be an intellectual exercise; it has to be felt. People need to start feeling European, feeling as a community of faith (sensu Giddens, Reference Giddens2014). That is one of the main areas in which the European Union has failed and where, I argue, archaeology can, and should, make its primary contribution.

The Response of European Archaeology

The connection of archaeology to the European project prior to the Treaty of Maastricht was minimal. With the early exception of Childe (Reference Childe1957), few works engaged with the idea of Europe and a wider European past. Attempts were made to employ the Roman Empire, the Bronze Age or the Celtic past as a precursor of the European edifice, but these usually transcribed in forgettable exhibitions and volumes that had little impact (e.g. Moscati et al., Reference Moscati, Arslan and Vitali1991).

After the 1990s and particularly during the 2000s there was not much improvement. If anything, the gap between archaeology and the European project increased even more. This may have occurred because a series of volumes brought the relationship between archaeology and nationalism in the past to attention (Kohl & Fawcett, Reference Kohl and Fawcett1995; Díaz-Andreu & Champion, Reference Díaz-Andreu and Champion1996; Graves-Brown et al., Reference Graves-Brown, Jones and Gamble1996). This added to an increasing acknowledgement that all our work was political in one way or another (Trigger, Reference Trigger1984; Kristiansen, Reference Kristiansen1993; Rowlands, Reference Rowlands, Bond and Gilliam1994). The general reaction was for researchers to distance themselves even further from the political events that surrounded them. The increasing presence of the European Union as a funding body seems not to have helped either. While many project proposals excelled in using words that emphasized their European dimension (Niklasson, Reference Niklasson2017)Footnote ⁴, ultimately such expressions constituted window-dressing meant to increase the chances of securing funds. There are few volumes that truly have a European scope (e.g. Cunliffe, Reference Cunliffe2008). A notable exception is found in the work of Kristian Kristiansen, who has urged archaeologists to return to grand narratives (Kristiansen, Reference Kristiansen2008) and produced some publications that have a strong European component (e.g. Kristiansen et al., Reference Kristiansen, Allentoft, Frei, Iversen, Johannsen and Kroonen2017).

The recent crises of the European project have occasionally stirred up reactions from archaeologists (e.g. Hamilakis, Reference Hamilakis2016), but overall have still left the discipline largely disconnected from political events. The destabilizing events affecting European societyFootnote ⁵ mainly resulted in the rise in popularity of conferences and projects that used buzzwords such as (economic) crisis or migration, but whose outcome did little to aid the struggles of Europe. It is only with the Brexit discussion, in which heritage issues have featured extensively (Bonacchi et al., Reference Bonacchi, Altaweel and Krzyzanska2018), that we have started seeing some European archaeologists responding (e.g. Gardner, Reference Gardner2017; Brophy, Reference Brophy2018; González-Ruibal et al., Reference González-Ruibal, González and Criado-Boado2018; Hingley, Reference Hingley2018), along with scholars from other disciplines (e.g. Delanty, Reference Delanty2018).

The current dominant standpoint of archaeologists with regards to Europe can be found in the first pages of a recent article by Babić et al. (Reference Babić, Karl, Milosavljević, Mizoguchi, Paludan-Müller and Murray2017)Footnote ⁶ and can be summarized in two words: stay out. While some of its contributors express more nuanced positions, Robb and Babić explicitly discourage interaction in the opening section of the article by stating that ‘to try to build an emotive commitment to European identity [using archaeology] is a bad idea’ (Babić et al., Reference Babić, Karl, Milosavljević, Mizoguchi, Paludan-Müller and Murray2017: 6). The two authors argue instead for ‘an organizational, not emotive, normality for “European archaeology”’ (Babić et al., Reference Babić, Karl, Milosavljević, Mizoguchi, Paludan-Müller and Murray2017: 7). In practice this entails a complete separation from the developments taking place in Europe and goes against the realization of European officials that an emotive commitment to the European Union is imperative for its survival (Tusk, Reference Tusk2018). The message of Robb and Babic constitutes a significant step back when compared to the opinions expressed at the end of the 1990s (Pluciennik, Reference Pluciennik1998; Willems, Reference Willems1999). It is asking of us to be archaeologists that work for institutions which coincidentally happen to be in Europe.

I contend that we are (European) citizens first and archaeologists second. We have a duty towards the people of today far more than to those from the past or the material culture they left behindFootnote ⁷. We should therefore harness the power of the past to engage it as a resource for dealing with the challenges of today's European society and build a shared European past.

I argue for a shared rather than a common European past. The concept of shared past is analogous to the idea of shared culture briefly introduced by Delanty (Reference Delanty2018: 213), which refers to shared reference points, without having an identical system of values attached to them. A large group of people can share a city, a territory, or even a practice, without having to relate to it in a similar manner. Delanty envisions in this manner a shared European culture which could promote solidarity while maintaining diversity.

A shared past would create a common platform without suppressing variety. Like a shared culture, a shared past refers to overarching narratives of the past to which different groups of people relate in a diversity of ways. A shared past implies grand narratives but leaves space for local contextualisation and interpretation, similarly to Ricoeur's (Reference Ricoeur1995, 5–9) narratives of identity. For Europe, this refers to events or stories that were experienced by, or had an impact on, large parts of the continent. The ways in which various people from the different areas relate to an event do not have to be similar. The two World Wars or the Peace of Westphalia (1648) are examples of a shared past, as they affected the whole of Europe, though certainly not in the same manner. While less constraining than a common narrative, a shared European past can be the stepping stone towards a European sense of identity.

Politics Is Not a Dirty Word

To engage with the European project, we need to change our attitude towards the political dimension of archaeological research. In archaeology, saying that our work is political generally has a negative connotation. It somehow means that our work is impure, and even that it is not ‘proper science’. It relates to how research results are employed to prop up a particular political ideology or, even worse, to how archaeological research is skewed to support some political agenda. Hence, we are told to take heed of the possible political implications of the research we produce (Ó Ríagáin & Popa, Reference Ó Ríagáin and Popa2012).

The examples chosen to illustrate the political dimension of archaeology often reinforce this perspective. Generally, nationalist and extreme-right regimes make for good case studies, though communist ‘contaminated’ archaeology is also sometimes cited. I have done so myself in several publications (e.g. Popa & Ó Ríagáin, Reference Popa and Ó Ríagáin2012; Popa, Reference Popa, Ginn, Enlander and Crozier2013; Reference Popa2015). One can hardly go through a paragraph on the political dimension of archaeology without encountering references to Nazi Germany (Arnold, Reference Arnold1990) and the work of Gustaf Kossinna. Examples from the Balkans are also preferred, with Albania (Gori, Reference Gori2012), Macedonia (Brown, Reference Brown1994), or Romania (Niculescu, Reference Niculescu and Vainovski-Mihai2002) serving as examples of nationalistic archaeology, together with Spain during Franco's regime (Díaz-Andreu, Reference Díaz-Andreu1993). All these works in themselves are necessary and even essential to understanding the negative direction that the political character of archaeology can lead to. But that is not all that this political dimension can bring.

Many political projects have had a positive dimension for society at large, or at least for some large groups of people. Although the deeply destructive nature of Nazi ideology is irrefutable, one can hardly say the same about Czech or Danish nation-buildingFootnote ⁸.

The past is necessary for constructing national identity. While many, including myself, decried the close connection between archaeology and nationalism, we also refer to Hobsbawn's (Reference Hobsbawm1992: 3) famous quote that ‘nations without a past are contradictions in terms’. One cannot create a sense of national identity without invoking the past. It is an essential part of establishing the solidarities than many embrace and even hold dear. There is nothing inherently shameful in archaeology having participated in establishing the national narratives that helped build a sense of national belonging. On the contrary, many would find it a noble endeavour.

Deploying the political dimension of archaeology will not make our discipline any less scholarly. Archaeology lost its innocence a long time ago (Clarke, Reference Clarke1973). As people, we have always been caught up in the context of our time. As a discipline, our research was always to some degree or another intertwined with the political ideology of the time (Trigger, Reference Trigger1984). The only innocence was the one that we tried to argue for in our minds when we announced the ‘scientific’ and objective nature of our results. It is high time not only to leave that illusion behind, but also to accept the nature of the knowledge we produce and the impact that it can have in society. And, last but not least, to act on it.

The past's political dimension can be harnessed to bring about positive change in society. The past is already used as a powerful argument to empower marginalized groups (Funari & Garraffoni, Reference Funari and Garraffoni2016) and to support indigenous rights movements (Colwell-Chanthaphonh et al., Reference Colwell-Chanthaphonh, Ferguson, Lippert, McGuire, Nicholas, Watkins and Zimmerman2010; Prado Moi & Fagundes Morales, Reference Prado Moi, Fagundes Morales, Gnecco and Ayala Rocabado2011). In Europe, archaeology can help people come to terms with present-day developments that are difficult to digest. Narratives of the past can underline the long-standing multicultural and multi-ethnic character of the continent, making it easier to deal with the reality of the European Union. Hingley (Reference Hingley2018) convincedly argues that some heritage sites, like the Roman frontiers, can function as an effective argument in this regard. The past can also ease the understandable anxieties that a considerable number of European citizens have experienced following the refugee crisis of 2015. By focusing on the commonalities between the past of Europeans and the newly arrived refugees, it becomes easier to find a common ground between the two groups, helping to bridge the divide. This, in turn, helps justify societal decisions taken on moral rather than economic or functional arguments, such as chancellor Merkel's 2015 decision to open up Germany to refugees. Climate change, the eradication of poverty, or the circular economy, these are all topics for which the past can be a great advocate.

The past can be used to promote positive or negative, constructive or destructive, ideologies and behaviour. The choice between the arguments that history can potentially provide ultimately depends on the values and principles that individuals and groups decide to sustain (Bottici, Reference Bottici, Cerutti and Lucarelli2008: 54). We should act so that the choice reflects our values and that of the communities we identify with, rather than allow political leaders of increasingly questionable ethical standards take that decision for us. I do not argue that archaeologists should act as the ultimate moral authority in society but I ask that archaeologists, rather than politicians, decide the values and agendas that our work supports. In the case of European archaeologists, I believe that we should act to strengthen the European edifice. We should leave the ivory tower of curiosity and education to a position of participation and involvement. Let us be constructive.

The Danger of Fortress EuropeFootnote ⁹

While archaeologists should participate in the construction of Europe, we must remain highly vigilant not to fall into far-right ideologies. We need to remember how archaeology was employed in some circumstances to justify or legitimate highly destructive measures and avoid those pitfalls. We also need to remain true to the archaeological record and use it to build overarching narratives without denying regional variability. And ultimately, while we may work towards building a common European identity, this must be open, acknowledging the fundamental influence of groups that came from beyond the continent.

Archaeology has helped legitimize monsters in the past and we can be sure that it can do so again. The dangers are real, and we must be aware of them but not let them paralyze us. The reason why the works on Nazi Germany mentioned earlier keep being brought up (Arnold, Reference Arnold1990; Härke, Reference Härke, Mordvintseva, Härke and Shevchenko2014) is because it is such an illustrative example of how archaeology can endorse a violent and destructive ideology. We should keep recalling how such a thing came to be, and refer to the numerous other cases, such as those from the Caucasus or the Balkans (Kohl, Reference Kohl1993; Harzl, Reference Harzl2011). We cannot afford to forget the warnings that are given by these examples and keep them in mind when engaging with the political dimension of archaeology.

We should be particularly wary of the uses the far-right may make of our work. Nationalist and far-right ideologies seem to have a fondness for the past. Our work often moulds easily to discourses that refer to the unique nature of a given group and contribute to arguments of exclusion. Because of this characteristic, right-wing or far-right governments may be more encouraging of archaeological research and can provide more funding for it. This can put archaeologists who do not agree with the political platform of those funding them in a quandary. But staying out of the political implications of our work is not the answer. On the contrary, trying to write a ‘neutral’ archaeology will simply create a past that lends itself to others’ political agenda (Kristiansen, Reference Kristiansen1993: 3).

Writing a shared narrative of Europe does not mean falsifying the archaeological record. Our excavations have produced data that can serve to argue for a large array of stories. In writing our narratives we always put an emphasis on certain material traces and pick a particular reading of the material record over another based on our chosen perspective. However, this does not mean that anything goes. My argument is to give preference to Europe-wide narratives while staying true to the archaeological record. We should stand firm against outright false readings of material traces and combat any ‘alternative facts’, such as those generated by pseudo-archaeologists or fervent nationalists.

Producing a shared narrative of the European past does not mean eradicating regional differences. Some have expressed their concern that joining the European ‘train’ could lead to a hegemonic identity that suppresses regional variability (Babić et al., Reference Babić, Karl, Milosavljević, Mizoguchi, Paludan-Müller and Murray2017: 6). There is no doubt that emphasizing shared European narratives would make national perspectives less dominant. However, thinking that they would completely supplant cultural variety is simply unrealistic. Regional traditions did not disappear in most countries despite the centralizing effort of nation states over several centuries. It is naïve to think that they would do so if European archaeologists prioritized continent-wide narratives. Furthermore, aiming for a shared, rather than common, past will leave ample space for a wide range of regional approaches and interpretations. Even so, I would prefer having research that can soften cultural differences for a peaceful society, rather than maintaining strong cultural differences with the risk of enhancing political or ethnic tension. We should build bridges not walls (Delanty, Reference Delanty2018: 211; Tusk, Reference Tusk2018).

We should not construct a narrative that excludes non-Europeans, but rather one that emphasizes European commonalities. There are understandable concerns that constructing a shared past for Europe will increase friction with people that do not see themselves as Europeans or may have moved to Europe from another part of the world. There is no denying that there cannot be an ‘us’ without a ‘them’, and hence to have Europeans there need to be non-Europeans. However, there are degrees to which one component is emphasized over the other. Archaeology can provide narratives that bring forward the commonalities of Europe and, at the same time, underline the strong cultural, demographic, and political influence of peoples from other areas, such as the Middle East, North Africa, and Asia. This can lead to a porous European identity, which would counteract moves towards Fortress Europe.

Building a Shared Past of Migration

The migration of peoples from the Yamnaya culture into Europe is a good example of a grand narrative that can function as a shared past. In a series of articles (Allentoft et al., Reference Allentoft, Sikora, Sjögren, Rasmussen, Rasmussen, Stenderup, Damgaard and Willerslev2015; Haak et al., Reference Haak, Lazaridis, Patterson, Rohland, Mallick and Llamas2015; Kristiansen et al., Reference Kristiansen, Allentoft, Frei, Iversen, Johannsen and Kroonen2017), authors convincingly argued that the birth of the Corded Ware culture, and, through expansion, the European Bronze Age, can be attributed to a broad event taking place sometime around 3000 bc. This saw pastoralists from the Pontic-Caspian steppes migrate into Europe, where they came in contact with the Late Neolithic societies living there at the time. The new arrivals brought into Europe important new metalworking and animal husbandry technologies. Even more significantly, they brought a new language, Proto Indo-European, which fundamentally altered the linguistic landscape of the entire continent. The DNA of the newcomers left a strong imprint on the peoples of Europe, which can still be encountered today, from Norway to Sardinia (Haak et al., Reference Haak, Lazaridis, Patterson, Rohland, Mallick and Llamas2015: 210).

This story of migration works as a shared European past for several reasons. First, it is a process that affected a large part of Europe. Second, it left a lasting legacy on nearly the entire European continent technologically, culturally, linguistically, and genetically. And third, it is a narrative that lends itself to constructive ideas with regards to the multicultural character of Europe and the important role of peoples from beyond the continent in the emergence of Europeans and European culture.

A story of migration is particularly valuable given the refugee crisis that the European Union has been facing for the last few years. Such a narrative can help not only strengthen the social bonds of communities across the continent, but also contribute to allay the fears of some Europeans faced with a significant number of people arriving in Europe from Africa and the Middle East. By making this story well-known, by deliberately and insistently connecting it with the migrations taking place today across Europe, people may become more attuned and sensitive to the idea of migration as a constructive process. This can go as far as claiming that we were all migrants once and that all Europeans have a strong migrant heritage and migrant blood.

We should however not delude ourselves into thinking that this narrative is inherently positive. Its political message can easily be turned to emphasize the violence that such migrations can entail and the destabilizing effect it can have on society. This is a reading that the far-right would gladly sponsor and use. It is for this reason that archaeologists need to take ownership of the political message so as to deliver a constructive interpretation of the past and establish positive parallels to what is happening today.

Owning the political implications of our work requires us to grow a thick skin. Engaging with the burning and often divisive topics of our society, such as migration, will draw attention to our research and to us as individuals. This can result in a serious backlash, particularly in the social media. Some scholars like Mary Beard have experienced this first-hand. There is much to learn from her reactionFootnote ¹⁰. Like her, rather than retreating in the face of such assaults, we should expose biases and continue promoting our work, political implications and all. At the same time, we should package our message in a manner that can reduce divisions rather than antagonize further the different elements of the public.

We should also be prepared for political pressure from governmental bodies. Research with overtly political implications will certainly come to the attention of politicians and government institutions. We can particularly expect reactions in countries where right-wing populist parties are highly influential. Given the volatile nature of academic positions and the dependency of much archaeological research on government grants, standing up to such pressure could prove painful. It is useful in such situations to openly discuss the impact of political constraints on our work, as well as the effects of our research on government policies (Niklasson & Hølleland, Reference Niklasson and Hølleland2018).

What European Archaeology Should Look Like

European archaeology should be an archaeology that makes a difference for the European continent as a whole. It should be a discipline that cares about the people of today and contemporary developments. It should address the challenges faced by our society and our contribution should be present in the public eye. And it should be an archaeology that produces pan-European stories of the past.

Our research should aim at making a difference for the people of today by engaging with the challenges facing European society. The past is not an end of itself. Rather, it is a powerful resource that we as archaeologists can harness. European archaeologists should deploy this resource to help tackle the problems affecting the continent, from anxiety in the face of migration to sustainable economies and climate change. While some of these issues also have a broader, global dimension, they are all causes for which the past can provide a constructive narrative. A number of these topics have attracted the attention of archaeologists (e.g. Naudinot & Kelly, Reference Naudinot and Kelly2017). This should be greatly increased, and the results and narratives produced should be far more prevalent in the public sphere.

Archaeology needs to make its presence felt. It is not enough to do research and write the report. Stories of the past must be transmitted and circulated widely among Europeans to have an impact. This involves actively targeting the public with our work and taking a public stance on the burning issues of today's Europe. We have complained too much about politicians using the past to create national narratives in the wrong ways. We should take ownership and engage directly with political projects rather than let the situation that we deplore simply continue. With such a change of stance, we should be prepared to deal with online backlash and pressure from political bodies.

Lastly, European archaeology needs to produce European stories. Archaeologists (Sherratt, Reference Sherratt1995; Kristiansen, Reference Kristiansen2008) and historians alike (Guldi & Armitage, Reference Guldi and Armitage2014) have rightfully called for the return of grand narratives. Works that provide large, overarching stories of human societies are influential (e.g. Harari, Reference Harari2014; Morris, Reference Morris2017). Archaeologists should be knowledgeable at a European level and break the national confines that still limit our discipline (Kristiansen, Reference Kristiansen2008). We should be European archaeologists through our practice, not just through our label.