An Archaeologist in International Development

I recently returned from a trip to Ghana, where I spent a week at a conference discussing the most effective ways to help lift the poorest people out of poverty in some of the poorest countries in Africa. It’s not a scene I could have imagined a few years ago, when I was frantically grading finals for an introductory archaeology course, finishing edits to an article on kiln sites in southeast Arabia, and just beginning to consider an exit from academia.

I had spent four years teaching archaeology and ancient history at a university in the United Arab Emirates (UAE). My plan was to spend a year (maybe two) in Abu Dhabi, then return to an academic position in the United States (US). But a month after I arrived in the UAE, the financial crisis struck, and already scarce tenure-track positions dried up entirely. One year turned into two and then three and then four (Fig. 1).

I taught Emirati students the archaeology of the Emirates and found that, although they took extreme pride in their national identity, for the most part they were completely unaware of the depth of occupation in their country. One year, I conducted an unofficial survey of 79 of my students and found that many had no idea the region had been inhabited prior to the last century. All were surprised to learn about southeast Arabia’s role as a bustling global crossroads connecting the Middle East, South Asia, and Africa for millennia.

Fig 1.

The author at Wadi Haqil in Ras Al-Khaimah, UAE.

(Courtesy of J. Szuchman.)

As it turns out, the cultural interactions that took place in the ancient UAE bear a resemblance to the contemporary cosmopolitan world of the UAE, where foreigners comprise the vast majority of the total population. But modern-day labor laws and the predominant perception that those foreigners constitute a threat to national identity mean that foreigners are kept at a distance—both socially and physically—from the local citizens of the UAE. I saw a key opportunity to help my students draw connections between the remote past and their present reality. In the process of making those connections, my intentions in the classroom began to shift. In a very real way, I hoped to contribute to a fundamental change in the attitudes of Emiratis towards the foreigners in their country.

Like other archaeologists, I was accustomed to living among local populations for months at a time during excavation seasons, gaining insights into the lifestyles of rural families. But in Abu Dhabi I was confronted with something new: an elusive native population and droves of poor migrants who had left their families in South Asia, East Africa, the Philippines, and the Middle East. Their salaries, remitted to their home countries, enabled their children to go to school and their families back home to eat—essentials that might not have been available had they not had the opportunity to work in Abu Dhabi.

Witnessing the stark differences between life for Emirati nationals and for the overwhelming numbers of deeply impoverished migrant workers motivated my teaching agenda. But while I hoped I was changing mindsets among my students, I increasingly felt that I wasn’t making the kind of impact that could make a real difference in the lives of the majority of those I encountered in Abu Dhabi. I was having even less of an impact on millions of others living in poverty around the world that did not even have the benefit of work opportunities in the Gulf.

It was this line of thinking that led me to pursue the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS), Science and Technology Policy Fellowship. This program places scientists and social scientists in government policy positions for a two-year appointment. The goal of the program is to embed sound science into policymaking and, if fellows return to academic positions following their experiences in government, to ensure their curricula are informed by an accurate sense of how science informs policy. As a finalist for the fellowship, I...