Archaeological Geology
I believe that what scientist think about their discipline is at least as important as what they do. Therefore, I will focus on the organizational and pedagogical difficulties associated with cross-disciplinary research in archaeological geology. Instead of compiling a summary list of the sites discovered, talks given, and meeting held, I spend three days on the phone talking to geologists, archaeologists, archaeological geologists, and geoarchaeologists about the identity of the discipline, its role within the broader context of Quaternary studies, and how research questions, funding sources, and collaborative efforts are changing. In the hopes of eliciting candor and honesty I ensured anonymity to my dozens of sources. I made every attempt to generalize faithfully the comments of my informants, and can claim no credit or precedent for any of the comments included. I deliberately avoided scholarly investigation of prior opinions to more accurately represent current thought.
What are North American geoarchaeologists thinking? My contacts were split equally between bona fide archaeologists and geologists, but fewer than 10 to 15 percent would admit to such a hybrid label when I pressed the issue. I was at once struck by the polarization of opinion on the success of interdisciplinary research, the frustrations of academic governance, the value of the label "geoarchaeology," and of the power structure and funding arrangements within our subdiscipline. Having nearly failed to synthesize anything, I finally borrowed an organizing principle from literary criticism, the archetype. Thus, I present to you four types of geoarchaeologists out there, each representing a rather consistent set of values and views, and each occupying prominent positions in North American universities and government agencies. I give you now the idealist, the cynic, the realist, and the negotiator.
Idealists view the fusion between geology and archaeology as an enduring marriage. Not only is geology essential to all good field archaeology; but archaeological sites are really geological sites containing index fossils of interest to the archaeologists. Archaeological training is required only to search for the right geological sites, and to properly speculate on the fossil content. The idealist justifies this view because the site’s physical stratigraphy provides the context, and so the fundamental framework for all other ancillary investigations, including the distribution of cultural material. Idealists visualize that no site should be excavated without an on-site geologist in charge, and that funding, supervision, and excavation decisions must be made as part of the marriage contract. They visualize geoarchaeology as a logical taxonomic unit within American science, and thus is deserving of formal academic arrangements whereby degrees are granted in geoarchaeology, and where research and teaching positions are labeled accordingly for the endless supply of future geoarchaeologists. In such a world, traditional geology departments acknowledge formally the equal relevance of plate tectonics, experimental seismology, and geoarchaeology, and archaeology departments will hire geologists as department chairpersons.
Cynics are a vocal but minor constituency; a slight majority in anthropology departments. One archaeologists informed me that the best thing geologists could do to have rapport between the disciplines would be for geologists to either leave them alone or to "self annihilate!" One geologists suggested the strategy of eliminating archaeology as part of anthropology and absorbing it into a broader earth-science (geologic) framework. Some cynics enjoy academic infighting and accuse the other intrusive discipline of asking all the wrong questions. Words such as "ripped-off," "intellectual arrogance," "total ignorant," and "violating" are a standard part of their vocabulary. Others, perhaps a separate archetype, simply ignore the entire issue and do as they please either incompletely or incorrectly.
Realists are headed by their slogan "A geoarchaeologist is neither fish nor fowl," continuing on, "...archaeology programs hire real archaeologists, and geology departments do the same! Say no more." They see the fighting of North American universities into consolidated social and natural-science camps as either a practical imperative, or a foregone conclusion. Realists see geoarchaeology as but a small eigenvector across the broad field of collaborative efforts and thus undeserving of a label any more prominent than ethnobotany. When pressed, they use the term geoarchaeology to describe a transient and productive (but possibly recurring) overlap between colleagues. Their approach is low-key, opportunistic, informal and frequently serendipitous.
Archaeo-realists know they are in charge of site access, publication priority, and funding, but seldom flaunt it to their earnest geological counterparts. They acknowledge that regional geologic stratigraphy is an essential part of paleoenvironment reconstruction, and that a sedimentologist can be a valuable but subordinate member of an excavation team. They get what they need from the geological literature or their geologist finds, and proceed with their archaeological tasks. They might urge some of their students to take a geology course, graduate deadlines permitting.
Geo-realists also know that archaeologists are in charge, but enjoy applying their skill to archaeological problems. It is simply legitimate academic fun. A very few can use the archaeology data base to support their research plan. They know that academic research funding comes from the social-science budget and, as physical scientists, they are not qualified to compete; they don’t wait for "requests for proposals" in the mail. Geo-realists would seldom stake a research career on archaeologic problems, but eagerly take part in archaeological research if an invitation coincides with available time. Before tenure, successful geo-realists realize that ancillary subordinate participation in human prehistory is only for fun, because well-funded Earth prehistory is where they make the grade for tenure and promotion.
Negotiators are usually the most senior of those carrying the hybrid label. They have the experience, professional contacts, and good will to muffle most and evangelize some of the cynics, to urge the idealist to see the world for what it is, and to help bridge the interests and needs of the archaeo- and geo-realists. Unfortunately, there is an emotional price to be paid for the arbitration. Negotiators agonize over the differences among multidisciplinary, transdisciplinary, interdisciplinary, and crossdiscplinary research and are the acknowledged leaders of archaeo/geo-therapy sessions. Negotiators seek to bridge the 19th century divorce between European geology and prehistory, and they grieve over the expedient marriage between cultural anthropology and North American field archaeology earlier in this century. Many may wish to have been born in an earlier era.
Let me remind you that these archetypes above are not fictional composites, but reasonably accurate descriptions of respected individuals. Round and round we go. With their sanctimonious and romantic delusions to keep them going, geo-idealists are just arrogant enough to give the cynics something to chew on. Realists, treading the middle ground, enjoy their separate lives, with occasional help from a friend. Negotiators, recognizing that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, try hard to forge a sub-disciplinary identity.
What recommendations would ameliorate the identity crisis and tension between the groups? Many of my informants believe that the fuss concerns primarily the management and ownership of ideas within North American academia, rather than their content. More than a few geologists, the antagonists in this story, are frustrated that the archaeological profession owns the research objective they want to study. Their frustration is exacerbated by the unjustifiable prejudice that any surficial geologist can investigate sedimentary context and paleogeography better than those who spent their time on courses in social theory. The archaeologist, as protagonists in this story, is not only guardian of the goal, but defined by it. He is wary of geologists, who, with their historic tradition of site-specific environmental reconstruction, are the most likely contenders for the prize. Geo-idealists simply cannot tell archaeologists how to forge their own identity in today’s academic climate. Perhaps they mandatory use of expert systems (artificial intelligence) may offer promise towards reconciliation, as long as it is planned by a neutral third party.
So what can be done? The single most important step towards improved interdisciplinary research would be for the realists to learn how to distinguish between the idealists and the negotiators; the cynics will always be there to be ignored. The wishful thinking of the geo-idealists is interpreted by archaeologists as disciplinary surrender or piracy, poor pre-conditions for successful negotiations.
At the core of this differentiation process lies the label geoarchaeologist or archaeologic geologists. Many of my informants do not believe that geoarchaeology is or should be considered formally as a subdiscipline or even a specific technique. They see it as an exciting but chameleon-like zone of overlap between artificial administrative units in American science. For them, geoarchaeology is nothing more than good prehistoric archaeology done without concern for disciplinary labels. Ann, paleo-cultural geography is nothing more than the fusion between quaternary studies and anthropology, and so forth, ad nauseum.
Until such a time comes that archaeologists (or paleo-cultural geographers) run North American universities, all of us part-time or would-be archaeologists in geology departments (and a smaller number of would-be geologists in archaeology) need the term geoarchaeology as a useful diagnostic label to ease communication and support, and thereby improve the quality of research. Geologists in particular need such support given the low status afforded to archaeological geology within American universities.
The more geoarchaeology tries to be something that it isn’t, the more it falls through the cracks. And given the increasingly specialized nature of science, the effort required to maintain technical skill, and the staggering problem of information constipation, the versatile generalist in "cutting-edge" research is quickly becoming a mythic figure. But, archaeologists and geologists, to work effectively together, must be aware of each other’s values and paradigms, and of the strengths and limits of their respective data sets. We should urge our students to take each others’ courses, our administrators to create joint appointments, and our colleagues to walk across the hallway. And any label with the roots "archaeo" and "geo" is vital to help identify and support academic research across the disciplines.