Harm Tjalling Waterbolk (1924) is regarded, together with Pieter J.R. Modderman (1919) and Willem Glasbergen (1923–1979), as the direct inheritor of the founder of Dutch archaeology Albert Egges van Giffen (1884–1973). From the middle of the 1950s, after Van Giffen's retirement, this troika shaped the rapidly growing academic archaeology in the Netherlands. Until well into the 1970s and 1980s they occupied the most prominent chairs at the universities of Groningen, Leiden and Amsterdam. One look at Waterbolk's impressive list of publications (almost exclusively articles) tells us that for half a century he has been an authoritative participant in developments in Dutch archaeology. He has been involved, directly or indirectly, in the modernization of excavation practices, in changes in the organization of academic education and research, in the introduction of new methods and techniques and in shifts in theory and interpretation. He has made a valuable contribution to the development of large-scale settlement research, to the shaping of the Dutch legal foundation of university education (the study of prehistory in the Academisch Statuut), to the expansion of palynological research and the C14 method, and to the conceptualization of long-term continuity in the spatial organization of historical communities. His work is interesting because of the blending of a scientific interest in the history of the cultural landscape and a committed and critical involvement with the protection of such. Enough reasons to interview him ten years after his retirement. We meet Waterbolk in Meppel, a small town in south-west Drenthe, on one of the few hot days in the summer of 1996. It has been agreed that we will first pay a short visit to his birthplace in Havelte and to Van Giffen's grave in Diever. Before long it becomes clear that during the tour a web of named places and paths is gradually unfolding, each with its own historical tale and associated with personal memories. The afternoon is spent in the area between Balloo and Rolde, 5 kilometres east of Assen, the capital of the province of Drenthe. This area, which has an un-Dutch concentration of still existing and visible megalithic tombs, burial mounds, Celtic fields, and prehistoric roads, has recently become the subject of Waterbolk's interest (Waterbolk 1994a, and in press b).

The Chinese curse – ‘May you live in interesting times’ – has unquestionably fallen upon those involved in landscape studies, as many papers previously published in this journal attest. Derks' contribution adds an attractive case study, drawn from the Roman world rather than from the more frequently visited prehistoric periods, to this ferment. Derks reviews recent interpretive arguments, before turning to the landscapes of northern Gaul: landscapes in the plural, for in his study area Derks teases out the existence of two zones which develop in distinctly different ways. His major achievement is to divert explanations for this development from the more usual channels of thinking, such as pondering economic and ecological variables, or categorizing areas as ‘Romanized’ or ‘non-Romanized’. His addition of social values and cosmological principles as ‘filters’ helping to determine the trajectories followed by these two zones is bold and, whether or not one agrees with the details of his arguments, his basic contention – that such elements are just as vital as imperial policies and environmental conditions in determining the creation of provincial landscapes – cannot be challenged. I predict that within five years a wide variety of such locally sensitive, landscape-based case studies will be available from across the Roman world, leading to fresh analyses of provincial variability within the empire and to cross-regional comparisons no longer strictly determined by administrative boundaries.

Reading the ‘Lampeter Manifesto’ did rather conjure up a picture of a small huddle of Post-Processualists (I don't know the collective term, but ‘in the trade’ adherents of the wider movement to which their approaches belong - Postmodernists - are known as ‘Pomos’), gathered in a seminar room in the remote fastness of Lampeter University, nervously eyeing the horizon for rabid positivists and other Neanderthals on the intellectual rampage, while engaged in a process of mutual encouragement (‘consciousness-raising’?) for their chosen position within Archaeological Theory.

The issue is not ‘why excavate?’, nor is it whether or not to excavate sites. Nor is it the numerous ancillary considerations mentioned at the round table and in the papers – too many sites, too few resources, too large a backlog of unpublished sites, or saving sites for future techniques. All – excavators, archaeologists, curators and cultural heritage managers – would agree. If there is a unique world-class site that will be destroyed in a few weeks, it should be excavated. One needs to excavate to preserve the heritage, information, artefacts and context.

Lohof's paper represents an interesting and important attempt to analyse and interpret Late Neolithic and earlier Bronze Age burial practices in the Netherlands. His suggestions are of wide relevance, not least because the phenomena he discusses were widely distributed over much of Europe. In what follows I wish to raise a number of issues which I think need clarifying, in order to elicit his response.

Oliver J.T. Harris and Tim Flohr Sørensen have written an interesting and urgent paper, raising crucial points touching upon a question at the very core of archaeology: what can we learn about the lives of prehistoric people, based solely on the material remains? Or, rephrased, how far can we reach on the Hawkesian ladder? To tackle this question, Harris and Sørensen accept the ten-year-old challenge raised by Sarah Tarlow, and suggest a vocabulary that will enable archaeologists to include emotional aspects in their interpretations. As they point out, several studies in archaeology have focused on emotion during the last decade, using burials as their main material. But as they acknowledge that emotions were a part of mundane social life, and not limited to ritualized events such as burials, they want to broaden the span of their inquiry and include materials from other contexts as well. As they do this, they make an interesting point and take a step forward in the development of archaeological interpretation. However, I would argue that they could have explored the issue even further. It would, for example, have been interesting to see them apply their ideas to some of the more mundane archaeological materials, from, for example, settlements that would be more explicitly connected to everyday life. Instead they use a quite spectacular site, where dramatic events have taken place. Is it perhaps easier to make assumptions about emotions when they are suspected to have been intense and exceptional in some way? The mundane emotions still escape us. Nevertheless, the case study chosen by Harris and Sørensen still illustrates their arguments and serves as an example for how the suggested vocabulary may be used.

As the authors situate the discussion in their offices, let me also begin in mine. On my way home from the office there will be many things around me. They will mostly be familiar and go largely unnoticed. I will take my keys off the desk and lock the door behind me. I will walk along the corridor, through the swing doors, down the stairs, unlock my bike, and so on. Desk, keys, door, carpet, windows, stairs, lock, bike – these are all objects with which I interact. But do I necessarily notice them? As long as there is ‘smooth coping’, as long as these objects are ready to hand (Wheeler 2005, 129), then they remain in the background. These are not objects that hold me in their gaze; I do not ‘encounter’ them, in the sense of encountering, meeting or bumping into a person.

First, a qualifier: the ‘response-to-the-response’ section of Archaeological dialogues is often the most entertaining part of the issue, but frequently the least intellectually rewarding. One feels Schadenfreude, partisan cheering and jeering, and bafflement in equal measure as contributors lock horns over this or that finer point of who has misrepresented whom. I am anxious to avoid readers reacting to what follows in such a manner, and so will concentrate on a very selective range of raised points that, to put it crudely, got me thinking.

I would like to thank Silvia Tomášková, Christoph Ulf and James Wright for their comments, which allow me to clarify and expand my argument. As I cannot address all the points they raise in this response, I have decided to concentrate on three themes: (i) the application of moral theory, (ii) Homeric questions and (iii) the focus on the shaft graves of Mycenae.

‘Theoretical archaeology’ as it exists today is – as we all know – primarily a product of anglophone archaeology. It developed as a challenge to traditional archaeological thinking in the 1960s under the label ‘New Archaeology’ and it flourished in the late 1970s and 1980s with the productive confrontation of ‘processual’ and ‘postprocessual’ approaches. In these ‘wonderful years’ theoretical archaeology gained reputation and influence far beyond its early centres. All over Europe and beyond mainly younger archaeologists found it useful and fascinating to join these debates (Hodder 1991).

First, I would like to thank the commentators, Beatrice Annis, Peter Fowler, Michael Herzfeld and Ovar Löfgren for their inspiring comments, and the editors of Archaeological Dialogues for providing us with the opportunity to engage in a debate about the politics of heritage (re) presentation. Naturally I am unable to pay attention to all the significant and interesting, and at times highly provocative suggestions. My reaction primarily addresses issues that have been raised by at least two commentators. As the debate continues, many of those suggestions neglected here will be picked up, by me or by others, in different contexts. Personally, Fowler's remarks about an archaeology of tourism, intrigued me most. It is, however, a subject so complex, that it cannot be addressed in a few sentences. Suffice it to say, that in my opinion, Eric Leed's The Mind of the Traveler, provides an excellent starting point for such an enterprise.

We cannot but agree with the basic contentions of Langbroek's paper that 1) the replacement of Neandertals by early modern humans in Europe is best understood from a perspective of historical contingency and 2) that it must have had a lot to do with the ‘very dynamic spatio-temporal redrawings of the population maps of Europe during the Weichsel glacial’ against the background of ‘the emergence of increasing climatological instability during the later part of OIS 3, with significant fluctuations at relatively short timescales’. This is the kind of approach we have been advocating to effectively supersede the reductionist ‘superiority’ paradigm that has dominated the literature on Neandertal extinction for the last twenty years.

Roymans' paper is ambitious – and short. Perhaps a little too short: there were a good many junctures where I felt there was much more that could be said, and certainly the bibliography could be greatly extended. The excitement of the paper lies in the methodological cross-over between archaeological and folkloric materials, which I found both convincing and informative, and in the time-depth that Roymans permits himself. In a rather odd reversal, I felt that the paper was more interestingly complex than the Introduction suggested.

A lot of the comments deal with things I did not consider, as much as with those I did. As will become clear below, I am in agreement with many of the issues raised and think some of them provide significant avenues of enquiry. In general, this reply, perhaps more than it is a defence of what I did say, is an agreement that the various issues raised should inform future research on the Highlands in the recent past. I feel the discussion has been positive in this respect and thank the various contributors for that.

The study of architecture in relation to the social organization of space is a popular field of research within the discipline of anthropology and other social sciences. In archaeology, it has not played a significant role, although in recent years a number of publications have appeared and clearly the interest of archaeologists in this area of research is growing (Kent 1990; Samson 1990; Richards and Parker Pearson 1994).

The present article is a welcome contribution to the study of Mycenaean ceramics and to the study of East Mediterranean production, consumption and distribution systems. The general argument for an archaeology of value has wide-reaching relevance, while the specific case study usefully raises general issues of approach and methodology.

Asking different questions about and adopting an alternative perspective for understanding what happened in the past are rightly highlighted by François Richard as crucial to our understanding of colonial situations like that in 16th- to 18th-century West Africa. He frames his discussion with a speech given in Dakar by Nicolas Sarkozy, who in mid-2007 had just assumed the office of French president, and uses the strong reactions to those words very effectively to make it clear why thinking about the colonial past continues to matter, both in Africa and elsewhere.

We would like to begin by thanking the journal and the commentators for their time and attention.

In his review of recent trends in archaeology, Kristiansen argues that the changes in broad trends in cultural heritage management parallel profound changes in archaeological theory under the banner of postprocessualism. He also argues that one can conceptualize these changes through a pendulum model that swings between rationalism and romanticism, the former favouring generalized interpretations, the latter favouring local and national histories. For Kristiansen the problem lies in the emphasis on local and national frameworks for interpretation promoted by postmodernism and postprocessualism that prevents archaeologists from asking broader questions. Moreover, he claims, ‘the humanities, including archaeology, are today losing academic and political impact precisely because of this narrowing of their role’ (p. 24).