by Sarah Parcak
Since we wanted to create a global community, we set up a Facebook page, where anyone could share images for commentary. We developed frequently asked questions and had a responsive email team for any inquiries or issues. One of the days when I was supposed to answer questions from our community in a Google Hangouts meeting, we had an internet disaster: the link broke. We had to resort to a group chat, which I thought could go horribly wrong. A group of 50 random strangers on the web. And me. I expected the worst.
And yet … archaeology is a great unifying force, and that hour we all spent writing to each other was magical. Excitement about the platform, the discoveries, and the future potential of this project drove the conversation. The group asked wonderful and insightful questions, supported and encouraged each other, and had constructive suggestions for how we could improve the platform. It restored my faith in humanity—even on the internet.
Our user numbers alone do not adequately convey the personal stories we have received from so many of our participants, who truly do range in age from young children to seniors in their 90s. A woman from the Netherlands wrote us to say that GlobalXplorer got her through the tragedy of losing a young family member. Late at night, when she felt despairing, she’d log on and play for a few hours and felt like she was contributing to something worthwhile. She told us GX acted as a lifeline back to a more normal life, and I can’t even say how much that moved and humbled us.
Maha, in India, shared with us that he always wanted to be an archaeologist, but his parents had pressured him to go into medicine—a “practical” profession. He obeyed them but always regretted it. Now he was able to play GlobalXplorer with his seven-year-old nephew. Few cases could better sum up what we set out to achieve: he said he did not know if his nephew would be an archaeologist, but he wanted to be the one who showed him that he can pursue his dreams no matter what.
My absolute favorite story—and my new favorite person—is Doris May Jones. Remember our elderly disabled grandparent archetype? Well, Doris is 91 years old and is largely housebound in her wheelchair in Cleveland, Ohio. She has always loved exploration and has a passion for geology. She signed up for GX straightaway, and, of course, she reached the level of Space Archaeologist. She is one of our top superusers. I had the chance to Skype with Doris, and I do not know who was more excited. Hearing her genuine enthusiasm and keenness made me think, you know, we really got something right.
Major settlement feature in Peru from the globalxplorer.org platform [IMAGE COURTESY GLOBALXPLORER AND DIGITALGLOBE]
The Proof of the Pudding
Our crowd got such a lot out of GX, and we reached out even further than we had hoped, but we couldn’t yet tell whether the platform would actually work—whether users would find real archaeological sites that archaeologists did not know about. Did they get better at site identification, or did they inadvertently mark a bunch of modern farms as ancient features? We’ve all been there!
In our assessment of the thousands of potential features, the users had about a 90 percent success rate at identifying things of a genuine archaeological nature. They found more than 700 features we called “Rank 1”—larger sites that did not appear in the Peruvian Ministry of Culture’s database of more than 14,000 archaeological sites. Result! We sent Rank 1 sites straight to specialists for further review.
And then there’s the rest. Sites ranged in size from small animal enclosures to massive hilltop settlements that were a kilometer or more long. The platform’s largest findings have populated a detailed database. Some include fortified stone structures on small mountaintops, and other sites look like large settlements. To begin to classify them, we can compare them to known sites, but of course experts will need to weigh in to tell us what each represents. To date, our users have found over 19,000 previously unrecorded archaeological sites.4
New Nazca lines taken from drone photography [IMAGE COURTESY LUIS JAIME CASTILLO]
Specialists who have previously surveyed the areas covered have begun to look over the results and confirm the platform users’ success, especially in inaccessible mountainous regions. Archaeologist Luis Jaime Castillo has taken extensive drone video footage of new sites there, developing innovative techniques to map sites on slopes—normally harder to view in satellite imagery—along the way. Working with Ministry of Culture archaeologist Johny Isla, Luis Jaime located over 50 new Nazca lines near 40 of the sites the crowd mapped. Needless to say, this made headlines.5
Archaeologists also plan to survey possible new features near Machu Picchu. While experts know a great deal about the famous royal site’s elite housing, they still know very little about the settlements of the people who served the uppermost echelons there: precisely what our crowd may have discovered. It’s the stuff of archaeological dreams.
Our collaboration with the Sustainable Preservation Initiative has led to new student training and the development of bike paths around Pachacamac, a major tourist site just outside Lima. These paths allow locals to guide tourists around the site, showing it to them in a new way and bringing more income to communities nearby. GlobalXplorer is not just about finding ancient sites, but also about using new and old technologies in tandem to connect local communities, tourists, and the digital world to ensure the site’s protection for the future.
Ancient cuy enclosure at the site of Canchari [IMAGE COURTESY LARRY COBEN]
On the Ground in Peru
Peru’s archaeology deserves the best future we can secure for it. I was lucky enough to visit several times to meet with government officials and our partners there. I felt truly upside-down south of the equator, not speaking the language or having any context for the archaeology. Even the food was a surprise. Everyone told me I needed to try guinea pig, a delicacy called cuy in Peru. Yes, it grossed me out momentarily. Most meat does, in fact, taste like chicken to me, which this did. But I had no inkling that my dinner would in any way connect to my archaeological work.
To give me a taste of Peruvian archaeology, the head of SPI, Larry Coben, a tall and affable colleague I’ve known for years, invited me to dig with him for a day at the site of Canchari in the Cañete Valley. To get to his site about two hours outside Lima, we trekked across fields and canals and climbed up the side of a steep hill. And unlike in Egypt, where we have workers to help, in Peru you do most of the manual work yourself.
I dug in, removing the soft silty earth with gusto, next to large mud-brick walls. To be honest, it was exactly like Egypt; almost identical upper-level dirt, similar mud brick, but no pottery. When we had to leave, I made Larry promise he’d update me on our mystery unit. He did just that, emailing to say we’d been working in an ancient cuy enclosure. What I eat generally does not predict what I find—otherwise I’d be due the world’s largest ancient chocolate factory. Still searching for that one.
First step, Peru; next step, the world! We see so much potential in this platform, but we have a long way to go. What I’ve described represents a proof of concept, but now we need to scale up. We’ll be in the middle of our next country, India, in 2019, after a complete platform rebuild. The crowd told us what worked and what did not, and we are redesigning everything as I write this. For example, a virtual sandbox will guide you when you first use the platform, giving you instantaneous feedback for the first 20 tiles you examine. It will then tell you if you have marked a site or not, and why you might have gotten it wrong.
Home to part of the Indus Valley, one of the world’s three great riverine civilizations, India is virtually unexplored by modern archaeologists compared with Egypt and Mesopotamia. There could be tens of thousands of unmapped sites there, perhaps hundreds of thousands. We’ll not only be focusing on site discovery, but, through on-the-ground partnerships with key cultural organizations, we hope to reach millions of India’s schoolchildren, empowering them to shape their own history.
Wonder Women (and Men, and Children, and Everyone)
I love archaeology because it gives me insights into what it means
to be human—real, physical evidence I can touch and ponder. In the future, we hope archaeologists using crowdsourced data will record themselves visiting the sites for the first time. We want to post that footage on our platform, so users will get to experience it as well—the perfect way to reward them for their time and dedication. The crowd has given us the gift of their time, and we want to give them the greatest gift I know as an archaeologist: wonder.
In an age of a thousand distractions, we have to ask what wonder can really do. It could translate into real-world action, such as joining a local museum, visiting a historic site, or attending archaeology lectures. Or maybe encouraging someone not to buy an artifact for sale online. I hope it will cause millions of people to care more about how we all came to be, to take more pride in their cultural identities, and to strive to protect the places we came from.
More than anything else, this project is meant to push the boundaries of archaeological exploration, to reveal our shared history. This was a grand experiment. If a 91-year-old woman from America’s heartland can be a quiet archaeological hero, then we have an army of space archaeologists out there waiting to be mobilized.
Our audacious goal is to map the entire world in the next 10 years. With millions of archaeological sites unfound, and tens of thousands of known sites threatened by looting, the first step toward protecting them is to know where they are. Maybe, in the future, automating the search using artificial intelligence and then having the crowd verify the features identified with AI will vastly speed up the process of discovery. Instead of taking four months to survey 100,000 square kilometers, I believe we could complete an entire country in a single week, perhaps even days.
But even when we have maps of all the world’s sites that are visible on the surface, and the crowd can identify major areas of looting, there will still be a great deal of work to do.
Each country has its own internal processes and laws concerning site protection, and early detection means those law-enforcement bodies can step in earlier. And with a new detection system in place, we might be able to convince countries to strengthen laws about antiquities sales for potentially looted objects.
With so much new data, we will need to come up with innovative ways for the crowd to get involved. Taking advantage of drones in countries that allow them, we can ask the crowd to image newly discovered sites, providing detailed information that we cannot see from satellite imagery. The mission of platforms like GlobalXplorer could evolve from one of site detection to site categorization, with widgets to draw visible architecture or provide other information. Users could sort through old excavation and survey reports or help find parallels for excavated features. All it would take for anyone to become an explorer is the will to discover, a screen, and a bit of patience.
The View from the Stars
There is something different about finding clues about the past from hundreds of miles in space. Maybe it is that satellite images allow archaeologists to see a world without borders, full of possibility, past, present, and future. Astronauts on the International Space Station talk about how much their experience of orbiting 16 times a day alters their perspective, showing them how truly fragile and wondrous the Earth is.6 As a result, many have become evangelists for protecting our planet.7
I believe that the same thing has happened to me and to everyone who spends enough time staring at Earth from space. I can’t tell you exactly how many hours it takes to rediscover the wonder that we all had as children, and then to pair it with a grown-up desire to make things better for our kids. Look long enough and it will happen, I promise.
This all started with my grandfather back in Maine. When I was small, we would stare together at his aerial photos of forests. Maybe looking wasn’t what inspired me, but the idea that an elder would care enough to impart his great wisdom to a child. That intergenerational connection and love led me down ancient rabbit holes and into outer space. My work is my personal thread across the bridge of time. Sometimes, when I am working on my computer late at night, I can feel the presence of my grandfather. He has never stopped teaching me about the possibilities of the work I do.
And archaeological work is all about possibilities. We hope to find answers to all our big questions beneath the Earth’s surface, but more often, we find more questions pointed back at us. The world now has a chance to take part in telling our shared human story, writing entirely new chapters and filling in the footnotes. We are all the storytellers for tomorrow. Our future depends on our ability to search from above and beneath, so we can look out to the stars and beyond, just like our ancestors did.
Acknowledgments
This book would not have happened if it were not for many extraordinary people and organizations. I am overwhelmed with immense gratitude for the many humans who keep on holding out their hands to me when I need it, or when I don’t even know to ask. These acknowledgments are in no way exhaustive. If I have forgotten anyone, I owe you. This was written in a turbulent time for our country, and writing this book gave me much-needed perspective and an outlet. I hope it has given you, the reader, a bit of needed perspective, too.
First, at Abrams Artists Agency: This book never would have gotten off the ground (pun intended) if it weren’t for the amazing Mark Turner, who told me, “It is time.” He introduced me to Steve Ross, the best agent and friend an author could ask for. Steve, you believed in the potential of this book from the start, and in me, and have been unfailingly encouraging and generous with your advice and time.
At Holt, my editor, Michael Signorelli, helped me in my journey from scientist to proper writer. From the moment we met, this has been a perfect fit. Thank you for your tough love and for reading early drafts containing terrible jokes that needed to be buried in tombs forever. May they never resurface.
Big thanks as well to Madeline Jones, who helped to make this book sing. Thanks as well to publicist Carolyn O’Keefe, and Jessica Weiner and Jason Liebman in marketing. Shout-outs to designer Meryl Levavi, jacket designer Nicolette Seeback, copy editors Jane Haxby and Carol Rutan, production editor Hannah Campbell, managing editor Kenn Russell, editor-in-chief Gillian Blake, and VP of marketing and publicity Maggie Richards.
Shakira Christodoulou, your pen is mightier than a sword. Thank you for your keen editorial eye and for teaching me how to be a better writer, and especially for your help with making the Meryt story come to life.
Ann Williams, your archaeological writing wisdom helped to make everything better. Helen McCreary, thank you for your goddess fact-checking and attention to the most minor of details. Roger Lewin, your next-level editing eye helped more than you’ll know.
To the Ministry of Antiquities in Egypt, I am endlessly grateful for your guidance and support of the joint mission at Lisht. Thanks especially to former Minister of Antiquities Zahi Hawass, Minister of Antiquities Khaled el Enany, Moustafa Waziry, Aynman Eshmawy, Alla Shahat, Mahmoud Afifi, Moustafa Amin, Mohammed el Badie, Mohammed Ismail, Hany Abu el Azm, Adel Okasha, Yasser Hassan Abd el-Fattah, and Mohammed Youssef Ali. Magdy Rashidy and the staff of Travel Harmony: you make magic happen every year for us. Ya Omer: I love you and your family. For my Lisht dig family, thank you forever for coming to work with me: Rexine Hummel, Bettina Bader, Reda Esmat, Christine Lee, Kira, Chase, and Greg. To the people of Lisht and Tell Tebilla: we could not work in Egypt without your expert digging.
To my field, generally: All of you continue to astonish me with the amazing discoveries and insights you make on an almost weekly basis. If anyone publishes anything after this goes to press, I promise to include it in my next book. Thank you all for pushing the boundaries of our field, for questioning long-held assumptions, and for being so supportive of my own work. I tell people that remote-sensing specialists are some of the nicest people in archaeology, especially Francisco Estrada-Belli, Damien Evans, David Thompson, and Farouk el Baz. Keep on being great. For the cultural heritage community, especially Donna Yates, Brian Daniels, Cori Wegener, Morag Kersel, Patt
y Gerstenblith, Laurie Rush, and Richard Kurin: I cannot thank you enough for your support, mentoring, and challenging me to think bigger always.
At GlobalXplorer, I work with the best people on the planet. Chase Childs, Haley Hand, Jennifer Wolfe, Cheyenne Haney, Rebecca Dobrinski, Nick Maloof, and Shreya Srinath, you all blow me away daily with your passion, brilliance, and dedication. Thank you all for being so supportive and kind while I’ve shown up at work bleary-eyed from late nights of writing and editing. All of you have read assorted drafts of various chapters, and your honest feedback was deeply appreciated.
At National Geographic, where I have been an explorer since 2012, I have another family. While some of you have moved on to other adventures in the last few years, I want to acknowledge you all here: Alex Moen, Gary Knell, Jean Case, Terry Garcia, Matt Piscitelli, Cheryl Zook, Rebecca Martin, Brooke Runnette, Anastasia Cronin, Kasie Coccaro, you all have welcomed me, held me up, and cheered me on nonstop. A lot of work in this book took place because of the generous financial support of National Geographic. I want to give a special thank-you to my very dear friend Chris Thornton. We have been through a lot together the last few years, and you’ve given me a lot of courage to face my demons. Thank you for always being there.
To my National Geographic explorer family: Lee Berger, Enric Sala, Sylvia Earle, the Leakey family, the 2012 Emerging Explorer Class (represent forever). I love cheering you on when I see you on TV or in my in-flight magazines. Keep on reaching new heights and depths with your adventures. You make me proud.
The Tuesday Agency: a major thank-you to Trinity Ray and team for being so gracious.
For my TED family: I want to give you all endless hugs. Your support of me and my work has been and continues to be extraordinary, and I will be paying it forward for a long time. It all started when I had an unexpected phone call left at my office in the summer of 2011 from Logan McClure inviting me to apply to the TED Fellows program. Tom Rielly and Emeka Okafor interviewed me and the rest was history. Chris Anderson, you changed my life and my field, and I will be forever grateful. Juliet Blake, you have been endlessly kind and encouraging to me, and you throw the best dinner parties in the entire world. Anna Verghese, my dear friend, thank you for being my sounding board, cheerleader, and #1 fan. The TED Prize (now the Audacious Project) team and others: Danielle Thompson, Hasiba Haq, Kate May, Courtney Martin, John Cary—you all have helped to elevate me, encourage me, and shape my vision for my wish. Erin Alweiss, you are the best PR person, fashionista, and supporter an archaeologist could ever want. Another major thank-you to Gina Barnett, who helped me find my voice. A special mention to Tom, my dear friend and sharer of jokes that are for no one else’s ears. You helped me be myself.