Beneath a layer of sandbags and tarpaulin, a forgotten history lies buried. The Knowe of Swandro, an archaeological site on the Orkney Islands of Scotland, holds the remnants of Iron Age and Norse settlements. Every summer, archaeologists descend upon Rousay, meticulously piecing together the past. But time is not on their side. Rising sea levels and intensifying storms, exacerbated by climate change, are relentlessly eroding the site.
Scotland, like much of the world, is experiencing the harsh reality of a changing climate. The James Hutton Institute, a leading environmental research center, reports that the country now faces more winter rainfall than projected for 2050. The Knowe of Swandro, like countless other archaeological sites, is bearing the brunt of these changes. Coastal erosion has already ravaged the site’s most significant structure, an Iron Age dwelling. Stephen Dockrill, co-leader of the excavation, predicts that the final third of the structure will crumble and disappear within the next few years.
The stark reality is that climate change is a global threat to cultural heritage. UNESCO, the United Nations’ cultural agency, estimates that one in six cultural heritage sites is vulnerable to its impacts. Across the globe, archaeological treasures are facing similar threats. In northern England, the waterlogged soil that preserved Roman tablets for centuries is drying out, jeopardizing their survival. In Iraq, an ancient city is being buried under tons of sand, while the thawing permafrost in the Arctic is destroying indigenous artifacts.
The challenge of preserving our past in the face of a changing climate is daunting. Archaeological preservation, sadly, is not a top priority on the climate change to-do list. The International Council on Monuments and Sites, a leading organization in heritage conservation, declared a climate emergency only in 2020. Archaeologists lament the lack of coordinated efforts and funding from climate policymakers. Funding for archaeological projects often comes from land developers, but climate change-related preservation efforts have no dedicated source of financial support.
While the situation appears dire, there is a glimmer of hope amidst the erosion and destruction. The changing climate, while devastating for many sites, has also unexpectedly revealed some remarkable discoveries. Severe droughts have brought to light Nazi warships in the Danube and ancient rock carvings in the Amazon. Storms, while destructive, have also exposed hidden gems. Skara Brae, a Neolithic site in Orkney, was concealed by sand dunes until a storm in 1850 brought it to light. Similarly, a centuries-old shipwreck reappeared this year after being uncovered by a storm.
The challenge for archaeologists and heritage institutions is immense: deciding which sites to prioritize for preservation and which to let decay. Limited resources, particularly in developing countries, make this decision even more difficult. UNESCO provides funding for designated World Heritage Sites, but with the sheer number of threatened sites, many will inevitably be lost.
The loss of these sites signifies more than just the disappearance of physical remnants. It represents a loss of history, knowledge, and cultural identity. As these sites disappear, so do the stories they hold and the tourism they attract. Communities must adapt to these changing landscapes, embracing innovative solutions like laser scanning and digital recording to preserve these historical treasures for future generations.
Ultimately, the decision of what survives rests on what we as a society are willing to lose. The fight to preserve our past in the face of a changing climate is a race against time, a testament to the enduring value of history and the urgent need to act before it is too late.