Digging up ghosts: archaeology and land claims in the west bank
The Judean desert yields more than just ancient pottery shards. It’s unearthing a volatile present, a battleground where history and politics are inextricably intertwined. At Tala’at Ad-Dam, a site along an ancient pilgrimage route once trod by Jesus’ parents, Israeli archaeologists are meticulously brushing away centuries of dust, but their work isn’t conducted in a vacuum.
A history etched in stone, a conflict carved in land
The area, known as the West Bank, is a complex tapestry of competing narratives. Palestinians consider it occupied territory, while Israel asserts a historical and biblical claim to the land, referring to it as Judea and Samaria. This layered history – conquered by empires from Roman to Byzantine – now fuels a contentious debate over who gets to write the next chapter. The West Bank boasts over 5,000 archaeological sites, a treasure trove of the past increasingly exploited in the present.
Eyal Freiman, an Israeli official overseeing archaeology in the region, insists his team operates impartially. “I don’t act by political views,” he stated plainly. But the very act of excavation in this contested territory raises profound questions: for whom are these stories being unearthed? Talya Ezrahi, of the left-wing Israeli archaeology group Emek Shaveh, argues the work has become “weaponized,” used to bolster claims of Jewish ownership and restrict Palestinian access to land.
Consider Nebi Samuel, a site revered as the burial place of the prophet Samuel. A Palestinian village once stood there, now replaced by a tourist site after its residents were displaced. Eid Barakat, one of those displaced in 1971, remains in temporary housing, unable to secure a building permit. The Israeli government is now channeling nearly $100 million into archaeological and tourism development within the West Bank—a sum that raises eyebrows given the ongoing displacement.
Adi Shragai, an Israeli archaeologist working in Sebastia, a former capital of the Kingdom of Israel, laments the erasure of history. “So many parts of history were completely erased just because someone decided to build on top of it,” she observes. While she champions the preservation of these ancient sites for the benefit of humanity, the reality is more fraught. The path to the ancient theater in Sebastia required an Israeli convoy to navigate around the Palestinian town, a stark reminder of the simmering tensions.
Zaid Azhari, a Palestinian tour guide whose family has lived in Sebastia for generations, is barred from working at excavation sites when Israeli teams are present. “The Israelis are not allowing us to work inside this site,” he says, pointing to the drones and soldiers that monitor the area. A recent land expropriation order threatens to sever Sebastia from its heritage, farmland, and economic lifeline.
Rafi Greenberg, co-founder of Emek Shaveh, captures the essence of the dilemma: