What is Heritage without People?

By Georgia Andreou (University of Southampton) and Anonymous Student (Islamic University of Gaza)

This piece combines the perspectives of two archaeologists with diametrically different life experiences. The first author works and publishes on Palestinian archaeology from the comfort of a permanent job in a Western academic institution.  I would like to begin by reflecting on my positionality as a scholar who has benefited from established hierarchies of authorised heritage discourse and structures of power that continue to build on the dispossession of colonised people in the Eastern Mediterranean.

I have conducted archaeological research in Gaza since 2021, through which I have worked with 20 students and heritage professionals to document actively deteriorating coastal sites. While the early stages of this research were guided by particular research priorities, the work quickly shifted into a project developing workflows that bypass and alleviate limitations inhibiting the daily life and work of archaeologists in Gaza. Restrictions on electricity and internet, limited access to location devices and, of course, limited access to funding outside of western development programmes with their embedded universalist approaches to heritage are a few examples. That is on top of living in what has been acknowledged as the world’s largest open-air prison. These restrictions should be viewed in conjunction with pervasive perceptions of Gazans as non-interested in their heritage or not educated enough to decide how “best” to manage or engage with it. Our project engaged with local communities integrating heritage in their daily lives. We also worked with journalists, two of whom were killed in October 2023.  Above all we formed close ties with Gazan archaeology students - who we consider the future of Gazan heritage. One of our students was killed. The rest have and continue to experience unthinkable horrors. Among them is the co-author of this piece, who will provide his perspectives in the following paragraphs. Archaeology has been part of this student’s life since a young age, as he grew up in a dense and deeply politicised heritage landscape, fuelling both his awe and curiosity.

I view ancient objects as pieces of my nation’s history and heritage, and as something that co-constructs my personal and cultural identity. The preservation of this heritage has been central in the struggle for national self-determination, particularly since archaeology has been instrumentalised by the Israeli occupation through illicit excavations, selective interpretation and, now more than ever, large-scale destruction.The destruction of this heritage is as destructive as the erasure of human life.

The ongoing war has impacted my life in every possible respect. Like all Gazans, I was impacted by the shortage of food, water, and medical supplies. I have witnessed the killing of friends and relatives. I was displaced from my home, which was later destroyed in a matter of seconds. With it I lost every object constituting my memories and my personal identity, including my books and notebooks.  I spent sleepless nights under the sound of aircrafts and horrific sounds of human suffering. I had multiple encounters with death and have collected pieces of human flesh in search of the remains of people close to me. 

Nothing prepared us for the massive scale and indiscriminate character of this war of elimination. I cannot describe how I felt at the news of the destruction of heritage sites—places standing for centuries, places deeply entangled with our memories, all vanished within seconds. Last October I began my final year studying History and Archaeology at the Islamic University of Gaza. I was looking forward to expanding my studies with additional practical training and eventually a postgraduate degree. These dreams were quickly obliterated with the destruction of my university. Simultaneously, any notion of future, hope, and zest for life paused and was replaced by a feeling of abandonment by the entire world and a feeling of a fast approaching and painful death.

Frankly, I did not expect to emerge from this war alive. After I was able to flee (something most Gazans are unable to do), I found solace in studying, participating in archaeological projects, and dreaming of the prospect of returning to Gaza to work and educate in the heritage sector.  At the backdrop of these positive experiences are thoughts of thousands of students whose education and future have been shredded. So much of our heritage has now been destroyed before we Gazans could study it through our own gaze and value systems.

In the past decades western academia has capitalised on postcolonial critique, but the perceived “complexity” or inconvenience of discussing Palestine and Gaza in particular has short-circuited conversation.  Public calls for boycotting and divesting from institutions complicit in the death of tens of thousands of Palestinians have been met with censoring, doxing and disciplinary actions directed toward both faculty and students. All this while we daily watch the indiscriminate killing of civilians, and the large-scale destruction infrastructure,

Racist tropes, colonial references to a “civilisation” and archaeology have long been an integral part of political discourses justifying violence against Palestinians. During this year of continuously broadcasted campaigns of cruel, collective punishment, many of us had to make a decision to either continue to study and talk about the past at a purely academic level and detached from contemporary society, or to highlight the ways that archaeology is part of politics. 

With July’s historic ruling by the International Court of Justice we are perhaps less afraid to speak. We are perhaps less afraid to acknowledge that it is impossible to teach or conduct the archaeology of the Mediterranean and the Middle East without expounding on its history and political dimensions. 

What is the purpose of heritage documentation and preservation, when the education system equipping students with heritage-related skills is destroyed and the professional prospects of young Gazans have been obliterated? How sustainable is heritage documentation when it is conducted by organisations that maintain links with governments and institutions complicit in scholasticide? How sustainable is heritage documentation when we do not take a stance against the accelerated archaeological land grabs in Palestine and the escalation of violence against our Palestinian peers? What are the ethics of heritage documentation when people seek refuge at historic sites only to become bodies buried in rubble?

Over the past months, numerous news pieces emphasised on the extensive destruction of heritage. A guiding principle in these pieces tends to be the “universal” character of Gazan heritage, a focus relegating its emic values as insufficient to warrant protection. Similarly, attempts to “verify” the scale of heritage destruction and the “importance” of what has been lost, have been materialised through documentation projects–all while human bodies continue to lie under rubble and while local heritage professionals continue to be killed and dehumanised.

This raises significant questions on the priorities set by international heritage professionals and funding bodies. Is heritage and archaeology truly a priority now? If so, who are we preserving heritage for? For our scholarly legacy capitalising on yet another crisis? Or for the local communities that have been killed inside and near these heritage sites, many of which are now used as places of refuge?

If we are looking into protecting heritage in a meaningful manner, perhaps we need to step away from or change the current incentive structures of our professional environment. Let us resist the urge to appropriate yet another piece of Gazan history and instead identify ways in which our Gazan peers can lead this research, and at a time when it is a priority to them. We must talk and write about archaeology within its broader political context. Practically speaking, we must use our privileged positions to create opportunities to support Palestinian students through scholarships and training opportunities.

The ongoing war in Gaza has integrated us in a network of scholars supporting Gazan students to continue and finish their studies. We are very grateful for the help and insights of several individuals, through which we managed to fundraise and evacuate some students, enrol others in universities in Egypt and Morocco. Archaeology has a long legacy of separating heritage from its contemporary context. The ongoing destruction in Gaza has in the cruellest way possible, made clear that archaeology is political. Let’s stop pretending it is not.