Finding the Fallen, National Army Museum, London
As everyone knows, history needs regular rewriting just to keep it up to date, and nowhere is the scribbling more frantic than in the annals of the First World War.
The original politics of the conflict are nowadays obscure enough to be left almost entirely in the hands of academics and GCSE students. (I've forgotten what caused the war, but there's a list with at least ten plausible reasons.)
We're also down to the last few veterans, centenarians still troubled by their experiences, apparent examples of longevity who only serve as testaments to the brevity of human existence, as a whole generation vanishes. And do we weep? Yes, we do. We shed tears for the moustachioed ones, sent to their doom by posh people with even more facial hair and no health and safety training.
With no politics to bog you down and few witnesses around to disagree, the war offers ample opportunity for full-scale revision. In 2006, this means lots of hand-wringing. I'm glad to say that apart from the euphemistic title (for 'finding' think big digger and trowels, for 'fallen' think hideously mangled body parts), the exhibition mostly avoids this, and takes an honest, open-eyed view.
Parachuted into the dark heart of London's National Army Museum, this gleaming modern construction of aluminium frames and white panels sits oddly in the murky mid-70s design of the other permanent galleries. On entering I felt as though somebody had turned the lights on. Or that maybe a flare had gone up.
The exhibition is based on the findings of archaeological digs on battlefields in France and Belgium, including Ypres, Serre, Loos and Passchendaele. Given the extent of existing records, why were these undertaken? The exhibition offers the less than confident phrases 'certain aspects never documented' and 'we need to reconstruct soldiers' lives'.
The fact that 'there are few photographs of trench toilets…' hardly seemed a reason. Reading on, though, it all becomes clear. Discovery Civilisation (whose logos appear on the display panels) had stumped up the costs of the dig and the exhibition and at the same time made a TV series, broadcast last year.
So, here we are in TV-land, where the archaeologists seem to have monopolised the casting couch. As a result the exhibition is as much about process (digging, recording, conservation, forensics) as it is about outcomes (to be confirmed).
The first few steps made this clear. Set into the floor and covered with glass are several objects found on the dig (rusty mess tins, bullet cases, shells) mixed in with archaeologists' tools (trowels, brushes, measures). But generally the exhibition kept objects to a minimum and text to a maximum, which makes for an uneasy passage.
Many of the objects, too, are the sort of thing that I might find at the end of my garden - a cork, an empty sardine tin. Yes, I know it's all about context, but in the end a rusty mug is a rusty mug.
The practical difficulties were intriguing. The legal processes that have to be undertaken if body parts are found, the dangers of unexploded munitions and the continued viability of poison gas are all well described.
A panel shows how 'careful recording… continued after dark at Loos to reduce the risk of looting'. Shockingly, despite the precautions, the site was looted and metal artefacts were removed that could have identified a soldier.
Identity becomes a more important aspect of the exhibition as you move through it. There is a brief exposition of life in the trench (a toilet was found, the smell causing the dig team to retire upwind fearing poison gas) and the world's least exciting handling table (a vast white surface interrupted only by the single rusty fragment of a shell casing).
Then the story takes a more affecting turn with the discovery of human remains. On the Hohenzollern Redoubt, archaeologists found 'the lower legs of a British soldier. The two legs were found in adjacent shell holes… a shattered hand was found nearby at the bottom of a trench'.
This was to be one of a number of finds of body parts, including a mass grave. As the front line moved back and forth and shells tore up the ground, bodies were often blasted, scattered and reburied, and so never recovered for formal burial.
As the bodies were unearthed, so the thrust of the original dig changed, and the exhibition concentrates on the work of the conservation staff at the University College London Institute of Archaeology as they extracted tiny details (a postcard, a wristwatch, a tag) to aid the identification process.
All of this is grim, a salutary reminder, if one were needed, of the horrors of war, and although I have no doubt of the sincerity and professionalism of those involved, I found the process voyeuristic. It concerned me that long-abandoned human remains were being dug up for relatively miniscule gains in knowledge.
Yes, in three cases, the team were able to identify the German soldiers and, yes, remarkably, in the case of Jakob Hones, one of his sons was still alive, and, yes, it was all done in the most respectful way possible. But there are thousands of similar body parts out there - shouldn't they be left to rest in peace?
Michael Wright is the head of marketing at the Museums Association
Project data
Cost: £30,000
Funder: Discovery Civilisation
Exhibition design: NAM design department, Graham Smith and Kirsty Evans
AV (kiosks): Yapp Films
Exhibition ends: 31 March
As everyone knows, history needs regular rewriting just to keep it up to date, and nowhere is the scribbling more frantic than in the annals of the First World War.
The original politics of the conflict are nowadays obscure enough to be left almost entirely in the hands of academics and GCSE students. (I've forgotten what caused the war, but there's a list with at least ten plausible reasons.)
We're also down to the last few veterans, centenarians still troubled by their experiences, apparent examples of longevity who only serve as testaments to the brevity of human existence, as a whole generation vanishes. And do we weep? Yes, we do. We shed tears for the moustachioed ones, sent to their doom by posh people with even more facial hair and no health and safety training.
With no politics to bog you down and few witnesses around to disagree, the war offers ample opportunity for full-scale revision. In 2006, this means lots of hand-wringing. I'm glad to say that apart from the euphemistic title (for 'finding' think big digger and trowels, for 'fallen' think hideously mangled body parts), the exhibition mostly avoids this, and takes an honest, open-eyed view.
Parachuted into the dark heart of London's National Army Museum, this gleaming modern construction of aluminium frames and white panels sits oddly in the murky mid-70s design of the other permanent galleries. On entering I felt as though somebody had turned the lights on. Or that maybe a flare had gone up.
The exhibition is based on the findings of archaeological digs on battlefields in France and Belgium, including Ypres, Serre, Loos and Passchendaele. Given the extent of existing records, why were these undertaken? The exhibition offers the less than confident phrases 'certain aspects never documented' and 'we need to reconstruct soldiers' lives'.
The fact that 'there are few photographs of trench toilets…' hardly seemed a reason. Reading on, though, it all becomes clear. Discovery Civilisation (whose logos appear on the display panels) had stumped up the costs of the dig and the exhibition and at the same time made a TV series, broadcast last year.
So, here we are in TV-land, where the archaeologists seem to have monopolised the casting couch. As a result the exhibition is as much about process (digging, recording, conservation, forensics) as it is about outcomes (to be confirmed).
The first few steps made this clear. Set into the floor and covered with glass are several objects found on the dig (rusty mess tins, bullet cases, shells) mixed in with archaeologists' tools (trowels, brushes, measures). But generally the exhibition kept objects to a minimum and text to a maximum, which makes for an uneasy passage.
Many of the objects, too, are the sort of thing that I might find at the end of my garden - a cork, an empty sardine tin. Yes, I know it's all about context, but in the end a rusty mug is a rusty mug.
The practical difficulties were intriguing. The legal processes that have to be undertaken if body parts are found, the dangers of unexploded munitions and the continued viability of poison gas are all well described.
A panel shows how 'careful recording… continued after dark at Loos to reduce the risk of looting'. Shockingly, despite the precautions, the site was looted and metal artefacts were removed that could have identified a soldier.
Identity becomes a more important aspect of the exhibition as you move through it. There is a brief exposition of life in the trench (a toilet was found, the smell causing the dig team to retire upwind fearing poison gas) and the world's least exciting handling table (a vast white surface interrupted only by the single rusty fragment of a shell casing).
Then the story takes a more affecting turn with the discovery of human remains. On the Hohenzollern Redoubt, archaeologists found 'the lower legs of a British soldier. The two legs were found in adjacent shell holes… a shattered hand was found nearby at the bottom of a trench'.
This was to be one of a number of finds of body parts, including a mass grave. As the front line moved back and forth and shells tore up the ground, bodies were often blasted, scattered and reburied, and so never recovered for formal burial.
As the bodies were unearthed, so the thrust of the original dig changed, and the exhibition concentrates on the work of the conservation staff at the University College London Institute of Archaeology as they extracted tiny details (a postcard, a wristwatch, a tag) to aid the identification process.
All of this is grim, a salutary reminder, if one were needed, of the horrors of war, and although I have no doubt of the sincerity and professionalism of those involved, I found the process voyeuristic. It concerned me that long-abandoned human remains were being dug up for relatively miniscule gains in knowledge.
Yes, in three cases, the team were able to identify the German soldiers and, yes, remarkably, in the case of Jakob Hones, one of his sons was still alive, and, yes, it was all done in the most respectful way possible. But there are thousands of similar body parts out there - shouldn't they be left to rest in peace?
Michael Wright is the head of marketing at the Museums Association
Project data
Cost: £30,000
Funder: Discovery Civilisation
Exhibition design: NAM design department, Graham Smith and Kirsty Evans
AV (kiosks): Yapp Films
Exhibition ends: 31 March
