Contrary to popular opinion, history never stands still

I’m sitting in The Manor, a 17th-century house in the village of Upavon, England, about 10 miles from Stonehenge. Across the table are five of the U.K.’s top archaeologists, all of whom are working on a project to learn more about this famous and endlessly fascinating site. As you may have heard, last year, Michael Parker Pearson, of the University of Sheffield in England, unearthed an ancient village near Stonehenge. The settlement, which was founded roughly 4,600 years ago—at about the same time that Stonehenge’s massive slabs were being hoisted into place—is the best preserved example of its kind outside of the Orkney Islands, off the northern coast of Scotland.

Mike’s discovery was anything but accidental. Following an insight from a Madagascan colleague, Mike realized that since Stonehenge was built of stone, it probably would have been paired with a complementary structure made of wood—which was precisely what he discovered. About two miles from Stonehenge is a huge concentric circle made of post holes that once held high timbers. This year, Mike and his team are spread out across, and beyond, the site of last year’s dig. Their work is literally transforming our understanding of the past. And I’ve had the great fortune of hanging out with them, drinking beer and listening to the most exciting discussions I’ve heard since I was a graduate student.

Stonehenge, Mike told me, was recently voted the most disappointing tourist attraction in England. Before I first saw the site, I had heard that it wasn’t very impressive, and I was prepared for a letdown. The day before my family and I visited Stonehenge, we took a ferry from France. Outside, the weather was misty and rainy, and we were warned that the conditions in southern England would be bad. But when we arrived at Stonehenge the next day, the sky was clear and blue, and Stonehenge was a marvel. It was like coming upon Manhattan at night. But instead of seeing dazzling skyscrapers, there were soaring pillars capped with stone lintels—a crown of human achievement rising above the gently sloping plain.

What Mike and his team are finding is that Stonehenge wasn’t a single, isolated spot—a sacred temple in which an ancient, unchanging religious rite was enacted. No, Stonehenge was linked to the surrounding countryside by a series of feasts and festivals and other ceremonial events that evolved over time. A couple of years from now, when Mike’s team has finished its project, people will visit the Stonehenge World Heritage Site to get a sense not of “ancient truths” but of “ancient lives.”

I tell you this story, dear readers, because it affirms the message of my previous columns: history is very much alive. Even history that can only be glimpsed in CSI-style digs, where scholars like Mike “read” the earth, can be as fresh and vital as the latest headline. The great news for today’s young people is that the past awaits their curiosity and intelligence. Mike and some of his colleagues told me that they began studying archaeology when they were undergraduates, in the 1970s. Now, approximately 240 college students are learning from them and helping them excavate this vast site. Who knows? Maybe 30 years from now, a handful of those young people will be investigating another mystery and changing our understanding of the past.

The message I bring back from Stonehenge is, be curious, ask questions, there’s no limit to what we can discover.