| ISSN 1357-4442 | Editor: Simon Denison |
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| COMMENT |
Some ideas and discoveries receive wide coverage, others not. Richard Morris explains
Archaeology is one of those fortunate academic activities which enjoys huge popular interest and support. On British television we have at least two archaeology series – Time Team and Meet the Ancestors – that attract massive audiences. Many newspapers employ archaeology correspondents where, for example, mathematics, geography or philosophy correspondents would be inconceivable.
There is, of course, a great deal of archaeology going on that is never reported – and that prompts the question: what makes one piece of work a `story', and another piece not? Some disgruntled researchers will tell you that news editors spike articles about their work because of narrow preconceptions about what the public will read. I can think of such cases, but in general it can't be true. Interesting stories sell newspapers. It would make no sense to ignore them.
At the same time, strong archaeological stories may not appear because bigger issues have supplanted them. If British Tornadoes are bombing Baghdad or a royal wedding has just been announced, the chances are that archaeology won't be on the front page. The CBA monitors press coverage of archaeology, which tends to rise at times (like Parliamentary recesses) when other news is slack.
TV is the most powerful mass medium, and competition for its time is fierce. For news purposes it also has limitations. Viewers expect to be looking at something, not simply to be told about it, and not all sites and subjects are equally telegenic. There is an immediacy factor, too. The electronic media want their stories now, and against the wizardry of modern equipment which can beam your 12.40 interview back to the studio in time for transmission on the News at One, there is the request of the editor who says, `Yes, but can't you find us a suitable site within 50 miles of London?' It remains to be seen whether digital TV or round-the-clock news will make any difference.
Still, let us return to the main question: what hoists an archaeological story to prominence? Many topics which do appear nationally have been taken from this magazine, and there are patterns to be seen.
Stories with a bizarre tinge are attractive. Items in British Archaeology about the brewing of Neolithic beer, pine resin as chewing gum in the Mesolithic, or Henry VIII's sauna, all achieved wide (in the case of chewing gum, global) coverage, because beer, chewing gum and saunas are contemporary things to which a non-specialist audience can relate, and about which sub-editors can invent waggish headlines.
News coverage is also shaped by what people already know, which in turn is conditioned by other things – the subjects of films, literature, popular entertainment, or what is or isn't included in the history curriculum. Human origins, Stonehenge, the Roman conquest, Arthur, and more or less anything to do with the Vikings, are examples of subjects which already `mean something', and so provide pegs upon which new stories can be hung. A recent article in British Archaeology about the topography of Beowulf caught national attention: although few people may have read this Old English epic, many have heard of it.
Conversely, a fresh theory about, say, the Mesolithic would be harder to promote, because the Mesolithic has no established presence in the public mind. To be interesting, a new idea needs a context. People also like to feel themselves stakeholders, however vicariously, in specialist thinking and debates, and to share in the intellectual thrill of new ideas. This cannot happen if the old ideas have no currency to begin with. An important project for archaeology, therefore, is to present its explanatory models in ways which enable others to share them.
A cynic might suppose that trivialisation or a wacky gimmick are the principal ingredients for success. Broadsheet-standard reporting, however, is interested in serious ideas and is usually faithful to the original research.
The most powerful stories, however, are fuelled by feeling as well as intellect. This was surely the case when the timber circle around an upturned oak, found last autumn on the North Norfolk coast and first reported in the last issue of this magazine, reached the front page of The Independent last month. With it was a brooding photograph of the ring, the great tree at its centre `like a table with fingers', a symbol of something at once unexplained yet immensely powerful – a classic example of how a single great discovery can capture the public mind.
Richard Morris is the Director of the CBA
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© Council for British Archaeology, 1999