Trowel & Pen

When I recently shared the sensational news of the discovery of Pharaoh Thutmose II’s tomb in Egypt’s Valley of the Kings (after all, the first royal tomb to be excavated there since that of Tutankhamun), it provoked some reactions that put this archaeological investigation close to grave robbing (even though, for the record, Thutmose’s tomb had already been looted in antiquity, and the Pharaoh’s mummy was discovered elsewhere in the 19th century). However, this is indeed a point that is frequently raised, often in the form of a question: What’s the difference between grave robbing and archaeology?

In both cases, graves are opened. But that’s where the similarities end. Grave robbers and archaeologists differ fundamentally in their motivations, methods, and ethics.

While grave robbers are motivated to sell their loot for profit, archaeologists do not follow this route – what they find does not belong to them, but the communities and nations in whose territory it has been unearthed. Archaeologists want to learn about people and their lives in the past from the finds and artefacts they uncover. And the conditions under which they do this make all the difference. An enormous difference. First of all, there is the legal framework for this kind of excavation. In most cases, national legislation is clear: without proper authorisation from state (or sometimes religious) authorities, opening and descrating graves, disturbing the peace of the dead, and removing bodies, body parts, or cremated remains are illegal and constitute a criminal offence. Permission to dig is therefore already a clear distinction between illegal grave robbing and authorised excavation. In the case of archaeology, this permission is usually granted by the respective antiquities and heritage authorities, and here it becomes clear that a temporal component obviously plays a role in all this too. Modern burials rarely fall within the scope of archaeological research – although forensic archaeologists and their methods can certainly play a role in police investigations or the investigation of war crimes. An opportunity to enter into a dialogue with them once again, centuries and millennia later.

Of course, it would be wrong to justify this “pursuit of scientific knowledge” above all else, because first and of all archaeology is about people. And archaeologists do not only research the people of the past, they also do this for the people of the present. This also means that such research is not carried out over the heads of contemporary communities, but together with them. Where does scientific interest end and desecration begin? Since the dead can’t speak for themselves, as researchers we are obliged to consult those who have the closest ties to them. What memory, what historical heritage connects the people living today with these tombs and the people buried there? What concerns do they have about this research? Ideally, therefore, one of the ethical standards of modern archaeological research is to involve, wherever possible, the descendant communities of the people we are studying, and to seek their consent for this work. It is in the nature of things that this becomes more difficult the further back in time the subject of our study is. What is the significance of 10,000-year-old human remains to a modern community today living at the site where they were found? What links can still exist between these groups, these people, after such a long time? These are also legitimate questions that could perhaps be answered in such an archaeological investigation, for example through ancient DNA analysis, thus contributing to the historical and cultural identity of communities and helping to trace ancestry.

To ensure that an excavation of human remains is indeed relevant, all these issues need to be and are considered before excavations even start. Modern archaeological research cannot be conducted without strong ethical guidelines that emphasise and prioritise the humanity of these remains. For despite all the scientific interest, we can never forget that what lies before us in a burial, all the samples, data and finds that we record, were once part of a human life. A human life that we remember respectfully. Sometimes that may include a proper reburial of those remains according to the rules and traditions of their descendant communities. And yes, it may also mean discussing how, or even if, those human remains, no matter how old they are, should be displayed in public.

Yet by excavating a site, we are effectively destroying it. Once something has been excavated, it cannot be returned to its original state. That’s why every single step of an archaeological dig is meticulously documented, every change in the ground, the position and depth of every object is precisely noted. Unlike looters, archaeologists care about the context, the relationship between finds and features, which can often tell us more about the history of a site than the artefacts alone. And so, in the end, we can collect and collate all this information – record the history of a site, of a burial, to make it accessible. And to give the people buried there a voice to tell us about their lives.

tl;dr: Grave robbers exploit history, treating human remains and associated artefacts as commodities, whereas archaeologists, collaborating with descendant communities to ensure that excavations align with ethical standards, strive to document and preserve our shared cultural heritage for future generations.