| GOING LOCAL? THE WORLD ARCHAEOLOGICAL
CONGRESS AND EFFECTIVE ACTION
Martin Hall (President, World Archaeological
Congress)
mhall@ched.uct.ac.za
It is time to take stock of the World
Archaeological Congress as an organization
– to take a critical look at its organizational
structure and to ask whether this way of
doing things still serves to further WAC’s
primary goals. In offering this personal
perspective, I hope to start a wider discussion
that will lead to some concrete proposals
that can be considered by WAC’s Council
when in next meets in Washington in 2003.
The starting point for this discussion
needs to be a re-affirmation of WAC’s founding
purpose. This is set out clearly in Article
2.2 of the Statutes: “WAC is based on the
explicit recognition of the historical and
social role, and the political context,
of archaeological enquiry, of archaeological
organisations, and of archaeological interpretation”.
From this follow two “distinctive aims”
for the organization: “to discuss themes
which truly reflect the interest of its
worldwide membership”, and “to make explicit
the relevance of its studies to the wider
community” (WAC’s Statutes, as well as the
Vermillion Accord and the First Code of
Ethics, discussed later in this paper, can
be found at http://www.wac.uct.ac.za).
In pursuit of these “distinctive aims”,
WAC is defined as broad in both intellectual
and geographical scope, and is “concerned
with all aspects of archaeological theory
and practice. Its main emphasis is on academic
issues and questions that benefit from a
widely oriented and comparative approach.
It attempts to bridge the disciplinary divisions
of the past into chronological periods (such
as prehistoric or protohistoric or historic
archaeology), and to avoid exclusive, particularistic
regional concerns” (Statutes, Article 2.1).
Appropriately, membership is not restricted
to professionally qualified archaeologists
(although only those in archaeological employment,
or in a related discipline, are eligible
for election to WAC’s Executive). Article
4.1 specifies that “institutions or individuals
with a genuine interest in, or concern for,
the past who support the principles set
out in Article 2 hereof may become Members
of WAC by completion of an application form
and the payment of the appropriate subscription”.
These formal principles of association
need to be understood in the context in
which they were framed. WAC was founded
in 1987, following the conference in Southampton
in 1986, and on the basis of the work of
an international steering committee. The
central issue (and the reason for the breakaway
from the International Union of Prehistoric
and Protohistoric Sciences, which had originally
promoted the Southampton Congress) was whether
scholars should be banned from attending
an academic meeting because of the policies
of their country; whether academic practice
should be linked to issues of power and
politics. The organizers of the IUSPP Southampton
conference banned South African and Namibian
participation, and the World Archaeological
Congress was established by people who believed
that this was a legitimate action. Many
others disagreed, withdrew from the Southampton
meeting, and in their turn boycotted WAC.
A detailed account of this issue – one of
the major turning points in the history
of archaeology – is given in Peter Ucko’s
(1987) Academic Freedom and Apartheid:
The Story of the World Archaeological Congress.
Given this history, the key phrase for
understanding what WAC is, and can be in
the future, is that the organization is
“based on the explicit recognition of the
historical and social role, and the political
context, of archaeological enquiry”. WAC
is a broad association of those, from all
parts of the world, who share a common position
about the nature of our understanding of
the past.
My argument in the paragraphs that follow
will be that this position is as important
today as it was in 1986. Through the years,
WAC has evolved as an organization, taking
account of changing circumstances, and this
process of change needs to continue into
the future.
Strengths and Opportunities
Peter Ucko’s account of WAC’s founding
Congress in 1986 well captures the sense
of enthusiasm and common purpose which brought
participants to Southampton. Similar enthusiasm
marked participation in the fourth Congress
in Cape Town in January 1999, attended by
some 900 participants from more than seventy
countries. The Cape Town meeting was symbolically
important for many, marking the success
of international pressure in contributing
to South Africa’s transition to democracy
in 1994. The African National Congress in
exile played an important role in the decision
to break away from the IUSPP in 1986 and,
appropriately, Nelson Mandela was Patron
of the Cape Town meeting thirteen years
later.
This continuity demonstrates WAC’s strength
as an organization – its ability to pursue
free academic enquiry, expressing diverse
intellectual positions, within a common
frame. Because WAC is not professionally
ring-fenced, and welcomes the active participation
of those with diverse backgrounds and academic
affiliations, it has been able to move out
of the confines of a narrowly-defined archaeology
and to gain the advantages of what has been
termed “transdisciplinarity” (Gibbons et
al. 1994). This potential has been realized
in the One World Archaeology series published
in partnership originally with Allen and
Unwin, which has since become Unwin Hyman,
and now Routledge. One World Archaeology
now comprises forty-five edited and refereed
volumes with more than 800 individual papers
by authors from around the world (see full
list in this issue of WAB). A grab
sample from the bookshelf illustrates the
reach of this series:
- Volume 1: What is an Animal?
(Ingold 1988), a volume that takes an
interdisciplinary perspective on the way
animals are understood in human societies.
- Volume 4: State and Society: The
Emergence and Development of Social Hierarchy
and Political Centralization (Gledhill,
Bender and Larsen 1988), with contributions
from around the world on the Pacific,
the Americas, Palestine, Africa, Mesopotamia
and Europe.
- Volume 18: From the Baltic to the
Black Sea: Studies in Medieval Archaeology
(Austin and Alcock 1990), which opened
up the neglected traditions of Eastern
European Medieval archaeology to English
language readers.
- Volume 21: Archaeology and the
Information Age (Reilly and Rahtz
1992), which set the stage for computer-based
techniques in archaeological research
in comparative perspective, with case
studies from Africa, Poland, Hungary,
Japan, Russia and other areas
- Volume 28: Early Human Behaviour
in Global Context (Petraglia and Korisettar
1998). Fifteen chapters that, together,
provided a global overview of the Palaeolithic
- Volume 39: The Archaeology of Drylands
(Barker and Gilbertson 2000) – a specialized
volume that looks at the archaeology of
communities living in marginal situations
in Southwest and Central Asia, the Sahara
and Sahel, Eastern and Southern Africa,
North and Central America, and Europe.
No other archaeological association has
produced a comparable resource. As an organization
that is founded in a set of principles and
which embraces diversity, comparative studies
and multiple intellectual traditions, WAC
promotes better science than exclusionary
groups that defend the perimeters of their
disciplines.
This commitment to contextualised knowledge,
taking historical, social and political
factors as active determinants of the way
in which the past is shaped, is subject
to the exigencies of changing circumstances,
precisely because such changing circumstances
are themselves historical, social and political.
For example, in 1986 the Zimbabwe government
was a frontline state in the fight against
apartheid. Today, Zimbabwe is widely condemned
for human rights abuses. In 1986, Hindu
nationalists were welcomed as participants
in the multicultural festival that was WAC.
But in 1994, when the third World Archaeological
Congress in New Delhi almost collapsed mid-session
and the plenary ended with tussles in the
aisles, Hindu nationalist politicians seriously
compromised WAC as an organization. In 1998,
the WAC Executive met in Croatia, with lobbying
by Croatian government representatives for
their interpretation of cultural atrocities
committed during the war in Bosnia. In 1999
the Executive met in Greece amidst anti-American
protests but nevertheless decided that Washington
would be an appropriate place for the Fifth
World Archaeological Congress in mid-2003,
enabling a re-affirmation of WAC’s alignment
with Native American groups. But in September
2001, the political landscape changed dramatically,
putting the issue of Native American participation
backstage to whether participants from Muslim
countries would feel able to travel to the
US.
An organization that is committed to a
global perspective requires an appropriate
organizational structure. Based on well-tried
models for international collaboration,
WAC’s governance is vested in its Council.
Article 7.1 of the Statutes specifies that
Council will consist of “one National Representative
per country, members from which are attending
the International Congress, selected by
the individual members from that country
attending that International Congress”.
The Executive, which governs WAC between
Congresses, comprises two members elected
by postal vote by WAC members in each Regional
Electoral College, as well as eight indigenous
representatives. There are currently fourteen
Regional Electoral Colleges: Central Africa,
Eastern and Southern Africa , Northern Africa,
Western Africa, Central America and the
Caribbean, Northern America , Southern America,
Eastern Asia, South-eastern Asia and the
Pacific, Southern Asia, Western Asia, Eastern
Europe and Central Asia, Northern Europe,
Southern Europe. And although membership
of WAC is open, Article 9.2 of the Statutes
requires that the twenty-eight regional
representatives on the Executive must be
“in permanent employment within archaeology
or a related discipline”.
While this system of governance continues
to be appropriate as WAC’s framework, the
increasing diversity of, and rapidity of
change in, the political and social situations
to which WAC ought to respond requires additional,
flexible approaches to organization and
decision making that allow WAC to take positions
that are appropriate, informed and timely,
and which reflect a broad consensus. Increasingly,
new forms of communication open up possibilities
for such ways of doing things, although
it will be some time yet before all WAC’s
members have adequate access to such means
of communication.
A changed world
My premise in addressing this issue is
that the world has changed since 1986. Reading
the WAC statutes along with Peter Ucko’s
account of the Southampton Congress evokes
a time now passed. This is particularly
the case as one of the twenty-six South
Africans and Namibians whose invitations
to Southampton were cancelled, and who is
now President of WAC (and was Academic Secretary
of the Fourth Congress), working and living
in a South Africa with black majority rule
and an ANC government. Few who participated
in WAC in 1986 – including the ANC in exile
– would have predicted that the apartheid
government would collapse just four years
later.
South Africa’s moment – marked by Mandela’s
release from jail in 1990 – was part of
a series of global transitions that included
the collapse of the Soviet Union, the rise
of information technology, the new American
hegemony initiated by the Gulf War, the
emerging dominance of multinational corporations
and the consequent rise of new forms of
resistance, marked by protests in Seattle,
Prague, Gothenburg and other ‘world cities’.
This new order – captured in writing by
Arjun Appadurai (1996), Manuel Castells
(1996, 1997, 1998) and Hardt and Negri (2000)
– is best described as the ‘network society’.
What does this new politics and social
context mean for an organization like the
World Archaeological Congress?
In the first place, the old categories
that were used to understand the world are
more problematic. WAC was founded following
a clear typology of ‘First’, ‘Second’ and
‘Third’ Worlds. But this system is increasingly
dated. There is no longer a ‘Second World’.
The distinction between the ‘Third’ and
‘First’ Worlds has little geographic reality.
There are elites in Manhattan, London, Lagos
and New Delhi that share common characteristics
of broadband connectivity, enclave living
and global travel, and there are ghettos
in Washington, Bradford, Johannesburg and
Nairobi. Nor is ‘developed’ and ‘developing’
anything more than an inappropriate simile
that salves the conscience. The digital
divide is ever widening, and it is more
appropriate to think in terms of a ‘Dominant
World’ and a ‘Subordinate World’.
In addition, WAC is founded on the concept
of a ‘Fourth World’. This is enshrined in
Article 9.2c of the Statutes, where eight
members of the Executive are to be “representatives
of indigenous peoples/the Fourth World”,
and in WAC’s “First Code of Ethics”. But
in the new politics of identity which are
characteristic of the network society such
easy distinctions are all but gone. Our
current world is characterized by massive
diasporas and complex claims to identities
which are subject to continual redefinition
(Appadurai 1996). In many cases – if not
most – these identity claims evoke the past
and its material culture, whether burial
sites and temples, or ethnic cuisine and
table manners. Who is to say who is ‘indigenous’
and who is not, and who can claim first
right to the land (if any such claim had
ever been feasible)? In 1986, the rights
to the land in South Africa were unambiguous
to those meeting in Southampton. Black,
Bantu-speaking indigenes had been wrongfully
displaced by White, Afrikaans-speaking settlers.
Today, it is clear that ‘White’ is a social
construction and that all Afrikaaner families
that preceded the British annexure of South
Africa in 1795 are of mixed descent. Today,
First Nation status is claimed by Afrikaans-speakers
of mixed descent who claim oppression by
a black, Bantu-speaking majority. There
are complications similar to this everywhere
in the world, fired by the new politics
of ethnicity. It would be a brave soul indeed
who tried to use WAC’s “First Code of Ethics”,
which sets out procedures for archaeology’s
relationship with the ‘Fourth World’, as
a practical instrument of policy.
Secondly, and related to local identity
politics such as these, regional issues
are more complex. In the 1980s, South Africa
was symbolic issue, separating those who
believed in WAC’s fundamental principle
that politics and power imbue the study
of the past from those who did not accept
this principle. But can there be the reasonable
prospect of such a consensus today? Archaeological
evidence is continually invoked to make
claims and counter-claims for specific rights,
and there are often no general principles
of human rights that can provide a yardstick
for resolving these issues. Nor, indeed,
is there any clear consensus about what
such claims mean; witness the catastrophic
indecision of NATO in Bosnia, swayed by
‘expert’ arguments that such expressions
of ethnic difference were somehow innate
and inherited ‘ancient hatreds’ (an interpretation
which would have delighted Hendrik Verwoerd,
apartheid’s architect).
Thirdly, the economics of the new world
order are massively increasing wealth differentials,
and accentuating marginalization. It has
long been the case that a member of WAC
working in Nairobi and paid in Kenyan shillings
has been unable to afford a single volume
of One World Archaeology. Now, as wealth
is sucked into the financial centres of
the European Union, North America and Japan,
such financial differentiation is becoming
endemic. ‘Developing economies’ (that simile
again!) all took a beating in 2001; South
Africa’s currency, for example, depreciated
more than 40% against Sterling and the US
dollar. This is structuring, in turn, the
distribution of intellectual resources essential
for academic life. British and Australian
universities, for example, have an aggressive
marketing policy in South Africa, recruiting
students who can afford to pay premium fees,
and thereby increasing the proportionate
burden that South Africa faces in addressing
the needs of students disadvantaged by the
continuing consequences of apartheid. Africa
is offered ‘heritage expertise’ from Europe,
leading to new forms of structural underdevelopment
and dependency rather than a respect for
existing local expertise. As wealth differentials
increase, the advantages that European and
North American research institutions hold
over those in subordinate economies are
magnified. It may soon be the case that
the only universities – and archaeologists
– with the resources to research human origins
in Africa are in North America and Europe.
Ironically, African archaeology in the twenty-first
century may return to resemble the discovery
years of the nineteenth century, when the
continent was an open book for European
fieldworkers, who could employ local labour
at rock bottom prices (Hall 2001).
Fourthly, cultural capital has become immensely
important in itself. Rather than being part
of the ‘ideological superstructure’ in a
classic model of political economy, the
new world order thrives on cultural capital
as a primary resource. This is apparent
in the new political economy of heritage
and global tourism. UNESCO’s imprimatur
of World Heritage Site transforms an archaeological
site into a financial magnet that attracts
a host of secondary service industries,
job creation and revenue generation for
regional and national authorities. The ‘exotic’
periphery, given added value by the authenticity
of its tombs, temples and treasures, is
the relaxation zone for the fast-lane ‘information
elite’ of the new world cities. Simple ‘wilderness
politics’ of earlier years – in which the
Amazon was for the Indians and the Kalahari
for the San – are no longer that simple.
Many ‘indigenous’ communities want to be
part of the global action, and beneficiaries
of the premiums that their intellectual
capital can now yield. Again, these new
complexities of the network society are
captured nicely by a South African example.
Gauteng’s newly opened Apartheid Museum
– widely praised for its aesthetics and
for confronting the issues of the immediate
past openly and honestly, and designed with
the advice of academics with impeccable
credentials – is a mausoleum for the material
culture of segregation. It is, as well,
part of a casino and entertainment complex,
and an investment by corporate interests
that made their money from selling skin-lightening
products in the apartheid state.
In reaffirming its founding purposes, then,
WAC needs to adapt to a new world in which
conceptual categories have changed, in which
there are new – and urgent – issues of local
and regional identities that constantly
invoke archaeological evidence in their
causes, and where there are new economic
limitations and possibilities.
Situating Ethics
WAC’s governance structure was carefully
designed in order to further the organisation’s
founding objectives. However, it has always
been difficult to convene meetings of the
full Executive, usually because of financial
constraints, and this is exacerbated by
the frequency and rapidity with which new
issues arise in our contemporary world.
Since the 1998 meeting in Croatia, the Executive
has met only twice (in Cape Town in January
1999, and in Athens in November of the same
year), and it is not clear that it will
be able to meet again before the Fifth Congress
in Washington in mid-2003. In seems clear
that, in addition to the formal governance
structure that was established in 1987,
WAC needs flexible ways of doing things,
supporting and interconnecting local energy
with central resources.
This does not imply a departure from WAC’s
founding position. On the contrary, it is
to reaffirm these principles. This can be
seen by turning – briefly – to the more
general debate about the role of ethics
in the social sciences and, most usefully,
to Bent Flyvbjerg’s comprehensive discussion
of the issues. Building on the philosophical
tradition of Nietzsche and Foucault, Flyvbjerg
shows how social science research must inevitably
align itself with a reference group within
the society being studied. In making this
alignment, the social scientist asks questions
about power, politics and historical context
– WAC’s founding concerns: “who gains, and
who loses? Through what kinds of power relations?
And is it desirable to do so? Of what kind
of power relations are those asking these
questions themselves a part?” (Flyvbjerg
2001:131). The goal of such alignments is
to empower contextualised reference groups
to make judgments and decisions that are
more deeply grounded in rational and empirically-supported
arguments, rather than being dominated by
instrumental needs and surface understanding.
In practice, WAC has always practiced ‘situational
ethics’. For example, the Vermillion Accord
is a classic charter for situational ethics.
The six points of the Accord set out a procedure
for dealing with the remains of the dead.
In the first place, the Accord sets out
the terms for negotiating with the local
community – what Flyvbjerg would call the
“reference group”: respect for both the
remains of the dead and their wishes before
their death, and for the views of the local
community; negotiation about the disposition
of human remains; and the explicit recognition
of local values. Secondly, the Accord establishes
the researcher as a legitimate party in
such negotiations: respect for the value
of scientific research; and the explicit
recognition of the rights of enquiry of
the scientist. The Vermillion Accord does
not legitimate absolute statements or universal
truths – negotiation followings its clauses
could well lead to a mutual agreement either
to rebury a skeleton, or to display it in
a museum. The values that are promoted are
contextual but also, because they legitimate
scientific practices, rational.
A recent example illustrates such situational
ethics in practice. In joining a broad consortium
of groups bringing pressure on the British
Government to withdraw support for the construction
of the Ilisu Dam in south-east Turkey, WAC
was aligning itself with a local reference
group – the Kurdish population, already
subject to documented abuse by the Turkish
government – which would be resettled and
which would lose major aspects of its cultural
heritage. This alignment was based on the
recognition of the realities of politics
and power, and on asking the sort of questions
advocated by Flyvbjerg: “who gains, and
who loses? Through what kinds of power relations…?”.
In the spirit of the Vermillion Accord,
WAC also represents the interests of general
intellectual inquiry in entering the public
debate about Ilisu, because of the threat
to the area’s extensive Neolithic, Chalcolithic,
Neo-Assyrian, Late Roman, Byzantine and
later medieval archaeological record. Rather
than seeking to rank the Ilisu case against
competing priorities for action across the
world, and to test it against absolute ethical
criteria, it is sufficient that the necessary
situational conditions were met (full details
of the Ilisu Dam issue are on the WAC web
site:
http://www.wac.uct.ac.za).
Key requirements, then, for dealing with
situations such as Ilisu are flexibility,
responsiveness and the ability to deal with
multiple issues. This suggests that WAC
should nurture regional chapters that exercise
considerable local autonomy but which are
bound by the common principles expressed
in Article 2 of the Statutes: “the explicit
recognition of the historical and social
role, and the political context, of archaeological
enquiry, of archaeological organisations,
and of archaeological interpretation”. WAC
should concentrate on building its local
strength, providing a structure for like-minded
people passionate about local manifestations
of contextual archaeology, whether these
be Ilisu, Stonehenge, human remains in the
British Museum, or First Nation land rights
in South Africa.
In ‘going local’, WAC’s ‘centre’ would
continue to be of key importance, and would
serve as a network connecting local chapters
with one another. This conforms with the
successful models of the ‘network society’,
whether these be multinational corporations
that have discovered the power and rewards
of local franchising, or protest movements
such as those responsible for the effective
coordination of local groups in street demonstrations
in Seattle, Prague, Gothenburg and elsewhere.
The four-yearly Congresses and focused Inter-Congresses
– WAC’s distinctive feature – would continue
to be of primary importance; the source
of renewed energy, new contacts, the interdisciplinary
cross-over of ideas and interpretations,
and the generator of new intellectual capital.
In order to complement WAC’s formal organizational
structure with the flexibility needed for
it to be responsive to the myriad social
and political issues that characterize the
world today, we should consider some changes
to the statutes. I suggest the following:
- The present Council becomes the Assembly,
and the present Executive becomes the
Council of WAC. The new-style Council
would comprise members from different
electoral regions (following the principles
set out in the existing statutes), and
would be responsible for determining WAC’s
policies, and holding the officers to
account. The Assembly would be convened
at each of the four-yearly Congresses,
and would consist of the Executive meeting
with one representative elected from among
each country’s participants at the Congress.
The Assembly’s tasks would be to elect
the President, Vice-President, Secretary
and Treasurer, and to consider resolutions
brought by its members for Council’s consideration.
- In future, the Executive should comprise
the President, Vice-President, Secretary,
Treasurer, Chief Executive Officer, Editor
of the World Archaeological Bulletin
and two members from different electoral
regions elected from and by the Council.
This Executive would run WAC between meetings
of the Council, within the policy framework
set by Council. This group of eight people
should meet at least once a year. The
Executive would be accountable to Council,
which should meet at each full Congress
and at least one Inter-Congress held between
full Congresses.
While respecting the long-established structure
of WAC, this new arrangement would allow
WAC as an organization to be more responsive
to contingencies while remaining faithful
to its broadly representative constitution.
Such an arrangement provides an appropriate
framework within which strong regional chapters
can be nourished, because of the streamlined
decision-making that will be possible with
a far smaller Executive, able to meet more
frequently and to react to diverse needs.
Both the importance of full Congress meetings
in the spirit of 1986, and the potential
that lies in effective communication and
integration of pockets of effort was demonstrated
in the opening event of the fourth meeting
of the World Archaeological Congress in
Cape Town in January 1999. When we were
finalizing our plans, it was suggested that
we should start the plenary opening session
with a ‘drum event’. We were told that within
fifteen minutes, one ‘conductor’ would have
every participant in syncopated rhythm,
beating on drums, sticks and pieces of plastic
tubing and that the conductor would achieve
this without uttering a word. This seemed
highly improbable, but we decided to try
it. And it worked. Within a few minutes,
900 people – everyone from the government
Minister who opened the event and the Vice-Chancellor
of the university to the most cerebral of
archaeological theorists – was in alignment.
This seems to me to be a suitable metaphor
for WAC’s future. WAC’s success lies in
its breadth and diversity, and in passionate
engagement with the rhythm of local engagements
between archaeology and its communities.
The task of the central coordination is
that of turning this local energy into a
volume of organized sound.
References
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Cultural Dimensions of Globalisation.
Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press.
Austin, D. and L. Alcock, (eds) 1990.
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Barker, G. and D. Gilbertson (eds) 2000.
The Archaeology of Drylands: Living at
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Castells, M. 1996. The Information
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