02/05/2025
Every shard of pottery tells a story. Every ancient stone wall holds secrets. In Jerusalem and Gaza, in Tel Aviv and Jericho, the ground beneath our feet is literally layered with human history – each level a chapter in one of humanity's longest-running stories.
I've always found it tragically ironic that archaeology, which should unite us in understanding our shared past, has become another battlefield in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. When archaeologists dig in Jerusalem, they don't find neat layers labeled "Jewish" or "Muslim" or "Christian." Instead, they find the intermingled remains of countless civilizations – Canaanites, Israelites, Romans, Byzantines, Arabs, Crusaders, Ottomans – all living and dying on the same precious soil.
The stones don't lie. They don't take sides. A 2,000-year-old coin doesn't care about modern politics. A Bronze Age foundation wall doesn't distinguish between today's borders. These artifacts tell us something profound: that this land has never belonged to just one people. It has always been a crossroads, a meeting point, a place where cultures collide and combine.
But here's the heartbreaking part: we've turned archaeology into a weapon. Every discovery becomes ammunition in a battle over who was here "first," as if that somehow determines who has more right to live here now. We dig not just to understand our past, but to justify our present.
The truth is messier than any modern narrative. The archaeological record shows waves of migration, conquest, coexistence, and cultural exchange. It shows that identity isn't fixed – it flows and changes like water through ancient aqueducts. Most importantly, it shows that the land remembers everyone who has called it home.
Maybe if we spent more time learning from these layers of history instead of using them as weapons, we'd understand something essential: that the ground beneath our feet holds enough stories for everyone. That there's room in this history for all of us. That the past, in all its complexity, might hold the key to a shared future.
Because in the end, the most important lesson archaeology teaches us isn't about who owns what. It's about how deeply human we all are, and how we've always been more connected than we care to admit.
