The title of the Round Table at the 2007 EAA meetings in Zadar triggered a déjà vu, taking me back to 1984 when archaeologists in the then Yugoslavia, at the occasion of the 12th Congress of the Association of Yugoslav Archaeological Societies in Novi Sad, organized a discussion with a very similar topic centred around two principal questions – ‘does Yugoslav archaeology exist?’ and ‘what is Yugoslav archaeology?’. One may argue that the context, political and national, differs much from the context in which the EAA's Round Table was organized, but the core dilemma remains the same – can we speak of a united or integrated discipline of archaeology in a multinational and multiethnic political framework, and what are the perspectives of such a discipline under the actual social and historical conditions in Europe?

In the case of Yugoslav archaeology in 1984 a non-Yugoslav observer (and probably almost all European archaeologists) would probably expect a sound ‘yes’ to the principal question posed. The state, which had existed already for 70 years and after 1945 had gone through a radical ideological transformation into a socialist country, seemed at that time quite stable and strong. It was led by a Communist Party which exercised strong control over major societal, political and ideological issues, including the everyday practice of an ideology of ‘brotherhood and unity’ of Yugoslav nations. The wars which raged through the country only seven years later would have been absolutely inconceivable to almost anyone at that time.

But the actual answer of the archaeologists was ‘no’. In spite of a common state framework (some parts had been part of common states much longer already, e.g. in the Austrian Empire), in spite of common or very similar administrative frameworks, education systems and heritage protection legislation, and although there had been a great deal of ideological investment in creating a common past, the archaeologists more or less unanimously perceived the ‘Yugoslav archaeology’ at best as a cluster of national archaeologies joined together by the mere fact of living in a common state. Archaeology was at that time, and to a great extent still is, perceived as a science which primarily contributes to cultural and historical knowledge at a national level. To put it very bluntly, since there was no such thing as the Yugoslav nation there could be no Yugoslav national or united archaeology.

That this was not just something peculiar to the former Yugoslavia, a country of ethnically, religiously and culturally highly mixed peoples, is confirmed by the case of archaeology in Czechoslovakia, which in spite of its ethnically mixed composition was much less culturally heterogeneous. There existed almost exactly the same perception, of two separate national archaeologies, that of Czechs and that of Slovaks. And as in the former Yugoslavia the common state framework was not strong enough to unify two national archaeologies. Put simply, national frameworks seemed too ‘natural’ and strong to be abandoned even in societies that underwent attempts to introduce socialist internationalism.

One may argue, then, that these two cases may be typical for multiethnic states that were formed rather late, at the beginning of the 20th century, and which were ruled by communist regimes in the second half of the 20th century. In such regimes priority was, at least on a programmatic level, given to the various ideologies of the so-called socialist internationalism and the ‘brotherhoods’ of nations, and for this reason the national(istic) reactions after the abolishment of the socialist regimes might seem to be expected. But this is not true; firstly it does not explain the fact that archaeology in these two states was conceived as a national discipline also in the periods prior to the communist regimes, and secondly the communist regimes themselves proved to be nationalistic in many respects.

Similar cases of multiple national archaeologies existing in parallel in single states can be traced in multiethnic states in western Europe, particularly in those where several nations are granted the status of constitutive nations, like Belgium. The recent devolutionary trends in the United Kingdom and in Spain also seem to pave the way towards the creation of a number of national disciplines of archaeology within these states. This trend can be observed in the shifts in significance of the names and scopes of institutions – from largely regional to more national connotations (e.g. Historic Scotland versus English Heritage). In other words, if these nations were to gain full independence there would already be a sort of national archaeological infrastructure at hand. To sum up, empirical historical evidence strongly supports the idea of national frameworks as primary for the discipline, practice and social role of archaeology.

In this sense Kossinna's old claim that (prehistoric) archaeology must become an ‘extraordinarily national’ discipline seems almost prophetic. But by saying this we have actually just repeated a well-known fact. It is a merit of nationalism in the first place that archaeology was granted the status of an academic discipline and found its place in a number of national institutions, and that the archaeological past and its objects were turned into national heritage. Of course, the benefits were mutual. In the paper I co-authored with B. Slapšak (Slapšak and Novaković 1996), we posed the question of whether archaeology can exist without nationalism, and our answer was ‘theoretically, yes’, but it is due to the fact that nationalism cannot exist without archaeology that this ‘yes’ remains largely theoretical. By ignoring this fact, archaeology, and ‘European’ archaeology as well, is destined to repeat many of the faux pas seen in the past.

Before giving some comments to Kristiansen's paper, I would like to turn back once more to the Yugoslav case. What parable for our discussion, if not lesson, can be learned from this example? Personally, I feel that it is instructive to look for the reasons the Yugoslav archaeologists in the 1980s gave for their diagnosis. They are listed here not necessarily in their exact order of significance: different traditions in the development of the discipline, different administrative/financial frameworks, closed sub-state (republican) networks, the perception of archaeology as a discipline which primarily works within a national framework and which is responsible for its part in the construction of national cultural and historical heritage, archaeology as primarily concerned with the past of national territories, the lack of common research topics, the lack of efficient coordination in research topics on a federal level, the lack of ‘federal’ resources and funds, the fact that the very heterogeneous nature of the archaeological past and heritage makes it almost impossible to organize it into a stronger and more coherent framework.

Many of the reasons listed have to do with the peculiar political, cultural and economic context of the former Yugoslavia in the 1970s and 1980s. But, in my opinion, similar reasons would have been given if one were to undertake a survey today among European archaeologists about the prospects of an integrated European discipline of archaeology. By invoking the Yugoslav and other similar cases I do not want to imply, however, that the prospects for a more integrated European archaeology are bleak.

In fact, considering European archaeology as ‘just a cluster of national archaeologies’ would be the logical answer if the question posed was ‘what is European archaeology?’. What I would like to argue here is that much of the problem lies in the question itself. By rephrasing it and framing it in a different way one may expect to get different answers. I do not propose this as a rhetorical figure of speech but as a genuine attempt at a productive contribution to the discussion on European perspectives on archaeology. I will try to elaborate this more clearly below.

When Yugoslav archaeologists were asked the ‘big’ questions – ‘what is Yugoslav archaeology?’ and ‘is there a united discipline of Yugoslav archaeology?’ – the answers were a pretty straightforward ‘no’. But when the questions posed were slightly changed – ‘could the achievements of one group or community of archaeologists in Yugoslavia be considered also as common achievements of the Yugoslav archaeology as a whole?’, ‘how did the achievements of your colleagues affect your work and practice and the status of our discipline in the country?’, ‘to what degree do we consider “their” archaeological heritage as “ours”?’, ‘what could be considered “our” contribution to the general achievements and successes of the discipline of archaeology?’, and so on – then a number of different attitudes emerged.

When the questions were less ambitious and less general, the respondents had a chance to reflect more productively on the possibility of an integrated archaeology. The advantage of such questions is that they open new channels of thinking and that they may invite individuals to reflect on their own personal experiences in a wider context. On the other hand, by asking ‘what is European archaeology?’ one almost immediately tries to distance oneself from the individual experience of archaeology, moves to the position of a ‘neutral’ observer and starts to think in terms of grand concepts, such as national history, national heritage and so on.

In addition to this, questions like ‘what is Europe?’, ‘where are its borders in space and time?’, ‘who are or were Europeans?’, ‘what is European culture?’ and ‘what is European content?’ ask for definitions of some kind, and people would like to have simple answers. But such answers, as we all know, almost inevitably imply some exclusiveness and closeness. In the field of archaeology, or of the question of a ‘common European past’, all attempts so far to give ‘exact’ answers have been rightly criticized for excluding some periods, regions, cultural traditions and pasts. In this sense Kristiansen points to the problem by showing the shifting and elusive meaning of Europe in different historical conditions.

It seems clear, therefore, that the ‘big’ questions must be left open or approached in an roundabout way. Another approach would be to avoid a straightforward modus ponens or modus tollens since it is very probable that the major premises of such a reasoning would be highly simplified, as has been shown in the Yugoslav case.Footnote ¹

But maybe, by turning the quest for positive definitions into one for ‘what the European archaeology is not’, we might not avoid all forms of exclusion, but we would raise our level of sensitivity. In this way, we can then ask ourselves a set of questions that, again, do not require invoking great historical and scientific concepts and theories: ‘do we want/who wants an integrated European archaeology?’, ‘what particular (added) value it may it contain for us?’, ‘what messages we would like to convey through the notion of European archaeology?’.

So far, most of the attempts of creating common or shared contents in the European past have not been very successful for a very simple reason – it has been assumed that the European past needs ‘Europeans’, much as national archaeology needs the nation. This mistake of the ‘quest for the ancient Europeans’ has been repeated several times. It could be seen in the 1990s debate about the Celts as genuine ancient Europeans and as common ancestors which could be shared transnationally. A similar case was the initiative for the Museum of Europe which appeared in the late 1990s, and which is, by the way, still alive. The proposers planned a permanent exhibition on common European history, starting with the period of Charlemagne.

The critiques in both cases pointed to the exclusion of many European pasts (non-Celtic, Sarazzin, Byzantine, Orthodox, Ottoman . . .), which were thus put on the other side of ‘European-ness’. One cannot escape the shadow of Huntingdonian civilizational divides in these attempts.

The third case is somewhat different as it avoided the pitfall of directly associating Europe with concrete ancient peoples or cultures. In the European Campaign for Archaeology, an initiative of the Council of Europe in 1994, a message was conveyed of a Europe already united in the archaeological past (the Bronze Age).Footnote ² I do not know whether archaeologists actually proposed this initiative – they must have been consulted in any case – but there remains the fact that after the fall of the Berlin Wall much of public archaeology has been somewhat accommodating to a simplified eurocratic image of a United Europe. The question remains whether it is appropriate to consider Europe in the Bronze Age as a recognizable homogeneous cultural (civilizational?) entity, or whether it is another case of a modern archaeological construct. But one could not escape the feeling that the quest for Bronze Age Europe resembled the quest for Bronze Age Europeans. However, I personally find this initiative of the Council of Europe a great step ahead in creating a positive image of common ‘European-ness’, even though its implementation in public could be criticized for accommodating certain simplified ‘eurocratic’ views instead of stressing added values.

To the reframing of the perspective I would like to add another dimension – a view from the margins. Kristiansen's paper, although an attempt to cast the net of a European perspective as wide as possible, still largely remains limited to the discourse of a centre, or, better said, to the discourse of the most progressive and advanced archaeological schools (national and otherwise) in Europe. Kristiansen observes the historical developments in the fields of archaeological heritage, academic archaeology and archaeological theory, but he largely remains confined to ‘Western’ archaeology or prehistory. At this point this is not intended as a critique of Kristiansen for not including more ‘marginally’ positioned archaeologies. It would simply be unrealistic to require a full coverage of all the varieties and conditions of archaeology in Europe, and he has very clearly explained on what empirical basis he grounds his observations and thoughts. Rather it is intended to contribute additional aspect to the discussion of the perspectives of European archaeology.

Instead of looking from the centre and searching for similarities and common denominators, a view from the margins may reveal another set of phenomena and shed new light on some phenomena that may escape an observer from a more central point, and Kristiansen does stand at such point. To a non-European archaeologist (from Africa, Asia, the Americas and so on) it is probably much easier to describe what a European archaeology is than it is for us from Europe. However, one should bear in mind that a view from the margins, by its very virtue, is particularizing, limited and embedded in local contexts which can produce distorted pictures. Therefore I am not claiming that one view should be replaced by the other, but, on the contrary, that both should be taken into account and observed in a sort of dialectical process.

Much of my ‘marginal view’ stems from the fact that for most of my professional life I have studied and worked in archaeology in Slovenia, a small country in the contact zone between central Europe and the Balkans. In much of the region the introduction and rhythms of development were considerably different from those in European archaeological centres. In one of my papers (Novaković, in press) I show how three major institutions from Vienna (the university, the Natural History Museum and the Central Commission for Historical Monuments) played a central role in the development of archaeology as a science and a public service in its formative decades at the turn from the 19th century to the 20th. Between 1870 and 1945 almost 80% of all professional archaeologists in Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia and Macedonia graduated from the University of Vienna. This fact clearly demonstrates the divide between centre and periphery in the world of early archaeology in Europe, and the way in which the discourse and conceptual approach of one centre with a handful of professors became the discourse of a much wider European region. In the case of Bosnia, one can see an almost ‘colonial’ introduction of archaeology as a modern (i.e. European, not Ottoman) way of looking at the past. After the Berlin Congress (1878), when Bosnia was put under the protectorate of the Austro-Hungarian State, one of the first major investments in the process of ‘westernization’ of this former Turkish province was the construction of a major museum. For more than two decades this remained largely controlled by staff from Vienna.

One could go on and find several similar cases of Viennese influence in other countries which were under Austro-Hungarian rule (Slovakia, the Czech Republic, Hungary, south-west Poland) or part of the Ottoman state (Bulgaria, Romania, Albania and so on). In fact, with the exception of Prague and partly Budapest the whole region was without doubt a periphery in terms of the production of archaeological knowledge in the first half of the 20th century. It took Gordon Childe and his journey to the Danubian lands to open this region to the Western archaeology in the late 1920s and the 1930s. Of course, the differences between European archaeological centres in the UK, Germany, France or the Scandinavian countries were also significant, but not to the same extent as in eastern and south-eastern Europe – a fact that one has to bear in mind when reflecting on European archaeology today. I will not go deeper into this subject, since there is an excellent but often overlooked book by Karl Sklenář (1983) which sheds light on the major social and cultural conditions which are crucial for understanding the development of archaeology in central and eastern Europe and for its comparison with Western developments.

Of Sklenář's ideas I would like to stress only one which I find highly relevant to our discussion. Archaeology in central and eastern Europe was, in general, much more historical in its approach, simply because this was expected from it in the conditions of continuous competition between nations, religions and states until the mid-20th century, and much of this legacy has pervaded recent times as well.

The two divides which European (and world) archaeology experienced between the late 1960s and the early 1980s – the emergence of processual versus traditional archaeology, and the 1983 Southampton ‘split’ and the consequent foundation of the World Archaeological Congress (WAC) – to a large degree further fixed much of central and eastern European archaeology on the traditional side of the divide. With the emergence of postprocessual discourse this trend continued. In this sense, between roughly 1970 and 2000 one could distinguish three or four major discourses in European archaeology which existed side by side and which only partially communicated between one another: processual, postprocessual (combined also with the discourse of the WAC) and traditional. In addition, this corresponds to the period when all former socialist countries entered a stage of huge economic crisis. Archaeology, being funded exclusively by public monies, largely remained ‘frozen’ at a minimum level of infrastructure that allowed it to survive but not to develop. Partly excepted from this crisis were some major national research centres at the national academies of sciences, but the crisis severely damaged regional and local institutions and heritage protection.

While the pace of developments in Western archaeology was unprecedented, with new ideas, concepts and technologies emerging every year, the prospects seemed very bleak outside the Western world in the 1980s. In fact, it is only from the mid-1990s that archaeology in the former socialist countries gradually recovered and began to engage in contemporary discourse in European and world archaeology. It may seem ironic, but archaeology in the former socialist countries survived the early years of the ‘new capitalism’, which threatened to dismantle much of the public services, not by being rapidly modernized but by remaining traditional and national. In conditions where new societies, in their quest for new identities after the collapse of the socialist regimes, sought to make bridges with presocialist traditions, this attitude of archaeology seemed very logical. Infrastructurally and financially it was unable to compete in a ‘new capitalist’ discourse emerging throughout the ‘New Europe’ which claimed capital feasibility as major criterion of social and economic relevance, and archaeology could seek one shelter only – in the bastions of national, traditional and already institutionalized academia.

In this sense, Andrew Sherratt's diagram, which Kristiansen uses to demonstrate fluctuations between rationalist and romanticized discursive cycles, can only be partly relevant. It probably reflects very well the major discursive trends in Western archaeology, but not so in the rest of Europe. Furthermore, it is also possible to see the ‘ups’ in this diagram (i.e. the periods of dominance of rationalist discourse) corresponding to the periods of political expansion of the West (1850–1900: the rise of the imperialist age of colonial superpowers; 1950–2000: the rise of modern Western globalization). It is not surprising that in both periods of Western expansion evolutionism (or neo-evolutionism) seems to be the dominant paradigm in a number of social sciences. However, in both periods central and eastern European scholars largely rejected or ignored evolutionism in their respective disciplines; in their experience there was no experience of colonial horizons and closer contacts with other worlds and cultures.

I agree with Kristiansen that any consideration of an integrated European archaeology requires a thorough historical analysis. His choice of observing three fields – heritage management, academic archaeology and developments in archaeological theory – seems appropriate for a representative illustration of general states of the art in the discipline of archaeology. He also demonstrates in detail the different trajectories, rhythms and centrifugal forces at work in these three fields which do not always act in congruence with the idea of an integrated discipline. And I also welcome his efforts towards putting more general research themes on the archaeological agenda.

However, as has been demonstrated, general themes in the past did not have equal appeal to all national or regional archaeologies. Not only did they have different agendas, but many times they found themselves poorly equipped and trained for thinking in grand schemes. The processes of integrating Europe have still not completely eradicated the effects of past centre/periphery divides in archaeology. Even a kind of ‘colonial’ attitude of grand schools has still not completely vanished, and is sometimes accompanied by a certain suspicion of local traditions and efforts because these operated on a different and more traditional basis due to their considerable isolation over the past 60 years.Footnote ³

But casting blame on developed archaeological centres would be completely the wrong strategy and a very poor excuse. In fact, it is these centres from which a number of moves were made for improving the status of heritage and the archaeological discipline in Europe, including central and eastern Europe. The issue that I am arguing here is about intensifying communication and about conveying positive messages between various schools and traditions of archaeology. In much of the second half of the 20th century, when archaeology witnessed major conceptual and theoretical advances, communication between East and West was very poor due to political and economic circumstances. But only two decades later, communication has never been more intensive and has proved to be the best tool for integrating our common concerns about the past. I may run the risk of overestimating the effects of communication, but I believe that the effect of thousands of Socrates/Erasmus students of archaeology spending a semester or two studying outside their country and their mother tongue would do more to integrate European archaeology than anything else. It is in this way that individuals can genuinely reach a point where the heritage of other nations becomes part of their personal experience and where they become sympathetic to it.

At the moment it seems that academic archaeology can benefit most from the exchange programmes and European networks. The situation in the heritage sector and in contract archaeology can still not be compared to the academic sector, and a large number of professionals in their everyday practice are still strongly tied to their local milieu. But it is only a matter of time before all these thousands of students, enriched with the experiences of studying abroad, will come to dominate in these fields too. It is in this way that I see the most spontaneous development of sympathy for and positive attitude towards the idea of European archaeology. One of the main reasons why this idea may have been inconceivable even two or three decades ago stemmed from the fact that only a very small number of professionals or students in archaeology had a chance to work outside their country or get personally involved with heritage other than their own national heritage.

To end with, I cannot avoid a few comments on the European Association of Archaeologists. Being an organizer of the Inaugural Meeting in Ljubljana in 1994 and since then actively taking part in EAA bodies puts me in a privileged position in estimating the effects of the EAA on the idea of European archaeology. Though the actual membership of the EAA comes to approximately a thousand members, well over four thousand archaeologists have been members of the EAA in the last 14 years. Another important aspect of the EAA is that it does not represent an exclusive club but forms an open forum for communication and discussion. This is to a great extent provided by the sometimes almost unbelievable efforts to secure representation among officials in EAA bodies, with regard to the geographic and linguistic zones of Europe and to categories of professional orientation, gender and age. From the very beginning of the EAA it has been felt that one of its principal tasks, in its attempts to be a truly European association, is to bridge the gap between ‘West’ and ‘East’. With the support of the Wenner-Grenn Foundation the EAA was able to raise more than US$150.000, which served as grants for colleagues from central and eastern Europe who would otherwise not have been able to attend EAA meetings. So far the EAA has been able to deliver more than four hundred grants (from Wenner-Grenn and other sources), a number that exceeds any exchange programme in archaeology before the 1990s. In addition to this, the Journal of European archaeology/European journal of archaeology has reached thousands of archaeological addresses throughout Europe, eastern and western. One cannot deny that these efforts have had some impact in bringing the archaeology of Europe together and made our discussion possible.