Archaeology has the power to ground us in our crazy, modern world

We cannot have a future thought unless we access the memory of our past. Denying history and archaeology does not just diminish our past, or etiolate our present: it stunts the future, writes Bettany Hughes

While dust-filled museums have found themselves at the sharp end of the culture wars, dusty archaeology is enjoying a gleaming revival (Getty Images)

I’ve noticed a strange thing happening. While dust-filled museums have found themselves at the sharp end of the culture wars, dusty archaeology is enjoying a gleaming revival.

At a time when we are continuously offered the newest, the freshest and then refreshed versions of our phones, tablets and laptops, it seems the ancient, the old and the static are now sought-after novelties.

In a digital, often virtual world, the real has absolute and exotic value. Ancient artefacts are the ultimate non-fungible tokens. Archaeology is the perfect haptic experience. I can testify: touching a sliver of gold or a sherd of pottery as it comes out of the earth is unforgettably thrilling.

Lifting the lid on the coffin of Tutankhamun’s great-grandmother Tuya in the Cairo Museum was incredible. The resin smell in her coffin is as pungent today as it would have been when she was buried 3,500 years ago. While the Byzantine harbour at Yenikapı in Istanbul was being excavated recently, 1,500-year-old leaves in the soil were still as green as they had been when Roman emperors lived and breathed. After fifteen minutes in the 21st-century air, this emerald-bright foliage withered and browned in trembling hands. Archaeology is a mysterious and magical science.

Countless immersive experiences online or in video games – think of Assassin’s Creed and Mars, God of War – are centred on ancient lives. Although much gaming content is entirely fantastical, hardcore gamers are still entranced by the facts that are delivered as desirable content within games – the bone evidence of the war wounds of Spartan warriors, the proportions of the Parthenon on the Acropolis, the raw materials used to create a Roman belt buckle.

Our superheroes are ancient heroes. Wonder Woman is an Amazon. Thor is Thor. Babylonian Gilgamesh, Greek Gaea and the composite Ramachandra from Hindu mythology all meet in superhero franchises on page and screen. So generations who grew up on Percy Jackson, Horrible Histories and even Harry Potter are now eagerly progressing to Circe and Song of Achilles by Madeleine Miller and Mythos by Stephen Fry. Those who can whistle the Gladiator theme tune now devotedly listen to Gang of Youths’ “Achilles Come Down”.

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And it’s not just about attitude, but action. Recently in Baiae – near Pompeii – the “Las Vegas of the Roman world”, which was destroyed by volcanic activity, I spent a delightful afternoon in the company of a young part-time jazz musician called Dionysios who passionately patrols the museum at the bottom of the sea, understanding that this global heritage needs archaeo-warriors to protect it. Schemes to protect underwater archaeology are appealing to millennial pleasure-seekers – encouraging the fit and the young to become citizen-curators for the past.

We are creatures of memory. We cannot have a future thought unless we access the memory of our past. Denying history and archaeology does not just diminish our past or etiolate our present: it stunts the future.

Prof Bettany Hughes OBE and Dr Lucy Blue host their Dive & Dig podcast, produced by the Honor Frost Foundation and SandStone Global, which is out now on Spotify