Imagine holding a piece of history in your hands, not as a replica or a digital image, but as a tangible fragment of a life lived over a century ago. This is the reality for a group of young archaeologists in Brisbane, who are racing against time to salvage the city’s past before it’s buried under the weight of progress. But here’s where it gets controversial: as Brisbane prepares to host the 2032 Olympics, the very ground that holds these historical treasures is set to be dug up for new infrastructure, including a massive stadium on a site rich with Indigenous, colonial, and multicultural history. Is this a necessary sacrifice for modernization, or are we losing something irreplaceable?**
In a nondescript office nestled between Brisbane’s airport and horse-racing precinct, Emily Totivan, a 19-year-old archaeology student, is piecing together ceramic shards from dinner plates used during Brisbane’s transformation from a penal settlement to a bustling river port. Her blue-gloved hands carefully assemble fragments adorned with intricate blue and white patterns, depicting a Chinese-inspired scene of pagodas, willows, and swallows. ‘It’s like the world’s hardest puzzle,’ she says, ‘but also the most rewarding.’ These plates, once part of a genteel lifestyle, offer a stark contrast to the frontier violence that marked other parts of the colony.
Totivan is part of a new generation of archaeologists who are not just peering into the past but actively engaging with it. Unlike the pop culture image of archaeologists raiding Egyptian tombs or uncovering Viking treasures, many of her peers will spend their careers in urban settings, sifting through artifacts like these blue China plates. ‘Honestly, I’ve never even seen Indiana Jones,’ she admits with a laugh.
Working alongside Totivan is Elisha Kilderry, another 19-year-old who combines genetics and archaeology to uncover stories of human and biological evolution. Instead of the remote digs she once imagined, Kilderry finds herself analyzing the William Street assemblage—a collection of everyday items from the late 1800s, including clay pipes, rum bottles, ceramic dolls, and even a bone toothbrush. ‘It’s surreal to hold something that belonged to people who lived on the same streets I walk today,’ she reflects.
One particularly striking artifact is a chamberpot, its narrow base curving out to a wide rim. ‘Definitely a chamberpot,’ Kilderry notes with a smile. These objects, while mundane, offer a window into the daily lives of Brisbane’s early residents. But their journey to the Queensland Museum was anything but ordinary. During the 2011 floods, a burst water main dislodged tens of thousands of artifacts from beneath William Street, sending them cascading past the historic Commissariat Store. The University of Queensland Archaeological Services Unit (UQASU) raced against time to salvage what they could, prioritizing unusual or noteworthy items that shed light on everyday life.
Among the salvaged artifacts is a small ink bottle from the heritage-listed government printing house, still containing a dash of midnight-blue ink last used over a century ago. John Duckett, a 21-year-old student from Rockhampton, works on cleaning the bottle. ‘Playing Assassin’s Creed is one thing,’ he says, ‘but actually touching something from that time period is completely different.’ In an age dominated by digital experiences, the physical connection to history remains profoundly appealing.
However, Nick Hadnutt, the Queensland Museum’s archaeology curator, notes that the William Street objects hold limited scientific value due to their violent dislocation from their original context. Yet, they were acquired for their emotional resonance. ‘Archaeology is as much a physical pursuit as an intellectual one,’ Hadnutt explains. ‘There’s a weight, a texture, a smell—you’re handling history.’
As Brisbane stands on the brink of transformation, the work of these young archaeologists raises important questions. And this is the part most people miss: while new infrastructure promises progress, it also threatens to erase the very history that makes the city unique. Are we doing enough to balance development with preservation? And what stories might we lose in the process?**
The teamwork and camaraderie among these students, guided by lecturers like Dr. Caitlin D’Gluyas, highlight the beauty of archaeological work. ‘Excavating with others is intimate and intense,’ D’Gluyas says. ‘You really get to know one another in a way that doesn’t happen in an office.’ But as the clock ticks down on Brisbane’s historical sites, the race to salvage its past becomes more urgent than ever.
What do you think? Is the sacrifice of historical sites justified for modern development, or should we prioritize preservation? Share your thoughts in the comments below—let’s spark a conversation about the value of our shared history.
