1997-VanAndel

1997 Rip Rapp Geological Archaeology Award

presented to TJEERD H. VAN ANDEL

Citation by CURTIS RUNNELS
(presented by Kevin O. Pope)

It is a great pleasure to introduce Professor Tjeerd H. Van Andel for the presentation of the Rip Rapp Archaeological Geology Award. In the course of a distinguished career, Tjeerd van Andel made significant contributions in geophysics, sedimentology, and oceanography, before he shifted his attention to archaeological geology. He has enriched the understanding of both earth scientists and archaeologists and has advanced the study of geology and human behavior in its broadest sense. Tjeerd has published some 200 papers and book in earth science and archaeology and has many publications in press or in preparation, including major works on the Paleolithic of Greece and a study of European paleoenvironment in Oxygen Isotope Stage 3 (currently supported by a Leverhulme grant). While it is difficult to summarize his many achievements, those related to geoarchaeology can be summarized under the following heads. His Most important contribution to geoarchaeology has been the study of changes in sea level and their effects, both short and long term, on human settlement and land use, and his sophisticated approach to the study of co-evolution and humans and their physical environment. Another major contribution has been a new and exciting analysis of the timing and intensity of soil erosion in connection with human land use. His investigation of the anthropogenic origin of ancient soil erosion has been the focus of discussion among geologists and archaeologists around the world and has influenced an entire generation of archaeologists. It is safe to say that he is one of the leading figures in the field of archaeology, with a major role in the shaping of the discipline.

These achievements must be viewed within the wider framework of large-scale geologic processes to large audience. His book New Views on an Old Planet, intended for general readers, was first published by Cambridge University Press in 1985 and is now in three editions and five translations. In addition to numerous public lectures, Tjeerd was also a contributor of thoughtful and thought-provoking essays in Terra Nova, a testimony to his commitment to making the results of new earth science research available to all.

His long-term impact on the study of Quaternary history and human behavior can be measured at two levels, one at the level of specific case studies and the other at the general level of the sidipline as a whole. Although most of his field work has been in collaboration and the Mediterranean, he has also done research on important sites in South Africa, Peru, and Honduras.

Tjeerd, like many recipients of awards int his division, did not set out to be a geoarchaeologist (although undergraduate study of archaeology in his native Holland whetted his appetite for the subject(, but devoted what would be for most people the most productive years of his career to earth science. His long and varied career extends over a period of 40 years and around the globe, and includes many important contributions to geophysics, oceanography, and sedimentology, a summary of which would take us far from the present subject. His career in earth science took him, after taking his Ph.D. from Groningen University in Holland, to a stint with Shell Oil working in South America, Africa, and Indonesia, then to Scripps in la Jolla and to Oregon State University before going to Stanford University, where he is the Wayne Loel Professor of Earth Sciences, and Geo-Archaeology in the Departments of Earth Sciences and Archaeology.

His active involvement in the interdisciplinary study of geoarchaeology began in 1978 when he met Michael Jameson (Stanford University) and joined him as the co-director of Stanford University’ Archaeological and Environmental Survey of the Southern Argolid, Greece. From that project he went on to work with other colleagues and a number of his students in almost every part of Greece, and his new career as geoarchaeologist, now just 20 years old, has resulted in the publication of 30 papers and three books, with more on the way. Although his research has been chiefly connected with the Mediterranean, his geological and paleoenvironmental research has been used by archaeologists farther afield - e.g., his work on the Sahul Shelf in Australia, which is significant for the understanding of early human migration to Australia; his study of the environmental setting of the Klasies River site in southern Africa, which raises important issues in connection with the emergence of early modern humans; and his recent work with Tzedakis and Mellars on the environmental background for the European Neanderthals, which demonstrates the importance of fine-grained reconstructions of environmental conditions as a prerequisite for the study of Neanderthal adaptations and the origins of early modern humans.

Tjeerd’s contributions have been so varied it is difficult to choose the most important, but many would single out his investigation of sea-level change and it effect on Mediterranean civilizations. His emphasis on the loss of key habitats for prehistoric cultures when the continental shelf of the Mediterranean was flooded has been a major significance. Likewise, his approach to reconstructing paleoenvironments and paleoshorelines has become a standard in the field, and his study of human impacts on Mediterranean valleys, particularly soiled erosion triggered by uncontrolled vegetation clearance from hillslopes, is equally influential. Much of Tjeered’s research in Greece has been carried out in the context of training a select group of outstanding graduate students (e.g., Anne Demitrack, Kevin Pope, and Eberhard Zangger), which means that his impact on the field of geoarchaeology goes beyond the limits of his publications.

Professor van Andel has worked throughout his long career to promote an increasing awareness of interdisciplinary studies, and particularly the study of Quaternary geology and geoarchaeology, a role that he continues to play as the chairman of the management board at the Godwin Institute of Quaternary Research at Cambridge. His public and professional service, as see, for instance, in his many public lectures and long service as an editor or member of editorial advisory boards for conferences and journals, and as an organizer of conferences (e.g., the Godwin International Conference on climate and Landscapes of Oxygen Isotope Stage Three, in July 1996) are the hallmarks of distinguished career that is far from over.


Response by TJEERD H. VAN ANDEL

Awards and medals and rare, high ceremonies in the lives of geologists. To cynical recipients they confirm that they are no longer a threat to their colleagues, or so they say. To others they bring money to pay off the mortgage or to buy antiques; for obvious reasons these happy types are not common among those who practice geology on behalf of archaeologists. To most, like me, they are the expression of the respect and the many warm friendships that have enriched out lives. It is in this last spirit that I than you all; there is little that could be more important to me.

As the citation notes, the award in this case does not honor a life-long career, it marks the point where my life has come full circle. It all began some 65 years ago when, as a small boy growing up in what were then the Dutch East Indies, I was taken by my parents to see the ruins of Hindu empires that flourished there in the first and early second millennia A.D. Sometime painstakingly restored in their full grandeur, more often mere broken shapes in the jungle, they seemed to me irresistibly romantic, and long after our return to Holland my desire to become an archaeologist and work in Indonesia remained strong. Thus, when I entered university in 1940, I set out to major in archaeology as one among four students of the late great Dutch prehistorian A.E. van Giffen, an early pioneer of biological archaeology. Although the university was soon closed down under German occupation, van Giffen set us to task that ranged from Roman excavations to seriating pots, from identifying domestic animal bones from iron Age marsh settlements to pollen analysis, adverse training in embryonic science-based archaeology that, as you will see, bore fruit some 35 years later.

When the war ended and the matter of degrees came up, however, those skills suddenly seemed less useful, as few of our seniors appeared ready to abandon their posts by death or retirement on our behalf. Thus, hoping to turn the study of the Quaternary into a back entry into archaeology, I changed my major to geology, notwithstanding the dark hues in which my professor, the late Philip Kuenen, painted a geologist’s life. Eventually, Ph.D. in hand, this first major diversion from my intended course packed me off to South America as a Shell Oil sedimentologist.

Sheer luck for me and illness for professor Kuenen made me the rather ill-prepared leader of one of the earliest expeditions to study modern marine sedimentation. Publication of the results, generously arranged by Keunen, led to my second major detour when I accepted an offer from Scripps Institution of Oceanography in California to take charge of an American Petroleum Institute project on marine sediments of the Gulf of Mexico and the Sea of Cortez. Several years dedicated to continental margin studies passed, until the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution research vessel that was to carry me to the margin of northeastern South America first spend several weeks measuring currents int he central Atlantic Ocean. Having little else to do, I watched with fascination images of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge grow on echosounder records as we crossed and recrossed this then still mysterious feature. The die was cast, and in the next few years I turned increasingly to the study of mid-ocean ridge plate boundaries, with perfect timing because of the plate tectonic revolution.

It is not easy to switch from sedimentology into geophysics for a person as poorly equipped with mathematics as I am, but a strong geological background turned out to be very useful in the study of the tectonics and volcanology of mid-ocean ridges.

During the same period, the four major oceanographic institutions conceived the Deep-Sea Drilling Project that continues to overhaul so many concepts, methods, and conclusions of Earth history. Representing Scripps on the planning committee, I was exposed for four years to a truly fascinating mix of organization, science politics, ship design and project management techniques. The downside was an undesirable impact on my publication rate that did not go unnoticed by those at the University of California who must promote or not promote their competitors on the faculty. And so, looking for a friendlier environment, I went to Oregon State University to help build a new school of ocean science there which soon achieved considerable status. The focus of my own group there was the field of paleoceanography, supported largely by data of the Deep Sea Drilling Project, a lifting reward for the time and effort spent on its development.

The years at Oregon brought much involvement in international ocean sciences and ocean science management. This is the proper moment to mention with deepest gratitude my two close friends and mentors in ocean science politics, both deceased far too early, Chuck Drake and Allen Cox. During this interval, while helping the National Science Foundation to get the International Decade of Ocean Exploration on stream, I had the opportunity to inspire and fund the CLIMAP project, which then produced a revolution in Quaternary science from which, with all of you, I later benefited greatly in my archaeological enterprises. At the same time, I and two others introduced the now common practice of funding multi-institutional research projects on a grand scale; from time to time I wonder whether that was as good an idea as it seemed then. All in all it was an exciting time, and I learned a great deal.

An unexpected dividend of my entry into the field of geophysics and the skills acquired in developing and managing tricky programs came in the early 1970s in the form of the FAMOUS project, which allowed me to participate in the first geological field mapping of the rest of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, with the deep research submersible Alvin. a few years later it also brought me to Stanford as professor of ocean sciences. Perhaps best of all, the Alvin experience inspired me to plan, together with Dick von Herzen of Woods Hole, the Alvin expedition that enabled me, on the 17th of February 1977, at 11 in the morning, to be first to see the now famous deep-sea hotsprings. Few scientist can identify the peak of their careers with such precision.

You may well ask whether we shall ever get back to archaeology, but be patient, I am almost there. In 1976, I cam to Stanford and earned for the very first time my whole salary in hard money, a gratifying experience, although I admit that during the many soft-money years I never really worried about where the wherewithal for myself and my team would come from . This may seem innocent to the point of naivete to those who nowadays must struggle in a very insecure world, but it was the same happy-go-lucky self-confidence that supported the many high-tech inventor who gave us Silicon Valley, e-mail, the World Wide Web, and so many other mixed blessings. Stanford brought new experiences, my favored one being the teaching of geology to undergraduates as part of their general education. Teaching has greatly enriched my life and made me the generalist in earth sciences I had long wished to be. On the debit side, being at Stanford accelerated my withdrawal from blue-water oceanography as working on ships and the sailor’s life became progressively more incompatible with an orderly academic existence. In truth, I miss the sea-going life a great deal and sometimes wonder whether the love of the sea and ships made me an oceanographer more than the science of the ocean itself.

Another chance encounter, another 90° turn, and here we are at last, confronting the human past. At Stanford I met Michael Jameson, a classical archaeologist happily unconcerned about the difference between a geologist and an oceanographer. Jameson, seeing that I was somewhat at loose ends in research, persuaded me to join a diachronic archaeological survey in Greece. At that point a number of experiences emerged from the past: van Giffen’s training, early familiarity with Quaternary geology and palynology, lab skills from sedimentology days, and an interest in sea-level changes that went back to work with Francis Shepard and K.O. Emery. There was also, not unnoticed by my archaeological partners, a long, successful experience in raising money. It was Jameson who gave me the opportunity to devote the last two decades and possibly my remaining active years to the blending of archaeology and geology that helps us better understand the remote human past.

Curtis Runnels’s handsome citation is an excellent account of what followed, but I cannot resist recalling here that my move from Stanford to Cambridge University in 1988 terminated a promising career in the Division of Archaeological Geology at the level of vice-president.

Teaching and research have always been inseparable for me, neither capable of reaching its peak without the other, and before I get to the peroration, an important obligation mus the discharged. Without my graduate students and postdocs the life I have just described to you would have been much diminished in quality, diversity, and above all in enjoyment. I cannot name them all, but for the work of the last two decades I owe a great deal to my former Ph.D. students Kevin Pope, Lisa Wells, and Eberhard Zangger.

I do not wish to speak here about what I may have contributed to archaeology; you are the better judges. My interest remains, as it began, focused on the co-evolution of landscapes and human conditions. a short dozen projects, some 40 papers and three books later, the question of what I personally learned from it is more to the point. What has life taught me in those 65 years since, as a little boy on a pony admiring Hindu temple ruins, I first became enamored of the human past?

Above all, it has convinced me that the key to fruitful interaction between archaeologist and geologist is summarized in only two words: interdisciplinary and collaboration. These words define a joint effort by equals that begins at conception and ends with publication, and that is wholly different from the far more common multidisciplinary mode, which yields archaeological reports trailed at a distance by scientific appendices not or hardly discussed in the body of the work.

What permits the change from multidisciplinary to interdisciplinary research? a carefully prepared set of agreed-upon common goals goes a long way, but that way can be arduous, because neither do we, as scientists, a priori know how we may best serve archaeology nor do many archaeologist perceive clearly enough what we might do for them. There are problems here of communication and of language, of enough and proper advance preparation, and above all of openness and mutual respect. Nothing new here, you may say, because little is more interdisciplinary than the study of the Quaternary. But if that is so, why do we students of the earth, surely altogether also a very interdisciplinary subject, insist on calling ourselves geophysicists (who are not geologist, oh no!) or geochemist (who find communication with paleontologists far from easy) or so many other specialist names? Will not those deliberately erected barriers in the end yield vast mounds of data heaped at the borders between subdisciplines, data that would be so wonderfully informative if we only knew they existed and how to use them? Is perhaps the science of the earth far too often also a multidisciplinary enterprise?

Universities are not comfortable with the idea that the boundaries between disciplines are artificial and find it hard to show their students that those boundaries might be bad for their academic health. Yet it is with the young, with graduate students, research fellows, and the junior faculty, that the hope lies for an interdisciplinary culture where the questions we ask rather than the titles of our degrees guide our research.

How do we create this interdisciplinary community that is not just our best but probably our only hope for a vital, vigorous future for archaeology and geology both? I have no ready answer, but yet one more turn in the path of my life has given me the opportunity to at least face this question, if on a very small scale. The Godwin Institute of Quaternary Science of Cambridge University, the management board of which I chair, has no money, no space, no staff, and no equipment, but sponsored by five departments, it offers a forum where member of all disciplines involved in the study of the last two million years of Earth history can meet if they wish. To make them do so is the challenge, and so far it seems that this ethereal enterprise may well be successful if it focuses on the coming rather than on the past generation.

So here we are after what was, you will agree, a journey full of unexpected detours, none of which I regret. What I do regret is that I cannot attend this ceremony in person to see old friends again and make new ones, but personal economic realities got in the way. Please forgive me and accept my warmest thanks for the honor you have bestowed on me.