In this work, Craig N. Cipolla, Rachel J. Crellin, and Oliver J. T. Harris apply archaeological theory to contemporary concerns, such as migration, capitalism, power, decolonization, and the Anthropocene. They showcase new theoretical approaches and case studies concerning contemporary political issues. In this sense, this is an intriguing work that presents archaeology, a discipline oriented to the past, as relevant to the present. They remind us that archaeology is always an expression of contemporary concerns. Moreover, it is a clearly written and engaging read, even as they explain complex theories and concepts, such as Gilles Deleuze and Pierre-Félix Guattari’s assemblage theory or Donna Haraway’s standpoint theory. In the process, they forefront their own theoretical approach in posthumanism and new materialism, wherein they consistently broaden the scope of discussion to include nonhuman elements as related to archaeological cases.

In their coverage of migration, they highlight Jason De Leon’s work about how the desert serves as a harsh setting for those crossing it. Here, they apply assemblage theory, focusing on the intersection of numerous relations—border policies, supplies, the desert, water (or the lack of it)—that culminated in the archaeological pattern of numerous migrant deaths. Homelessness is another issue that reveals how the flows and desires of capitalism leave out many from its currents. They cover collaborative excavations—such as Larry Zimmerman’s—with homeless individuals that illustrate the lives of those stranded from the economy. Although most would call homeless encampments nonplaces, homeless individuals seek those spaces out precisely because they are otherwise ignored.

They critique typological classifications for reifying categories, as shown in a study of gendered figurines at Teotihuacan, revealing a diversity of gender expressions rather than the male–female binary of many prior approaches. In one chapter, they challenge the notion of objective truth and argue instead for how truths emerge from the context of relations. With another chapter, they make the case for accepting multiple views of the past. Through collaborations with Indigenous descendants, for instance, multiple ontologies and vantage points can provide broader interpretations of the archaeological record. Here, they advocate that archaeologists should not attempt to maintain dominant interpretations of the past and that other groups’ views should be respected concerning heritage as one way to contribute to decolonizing archaeology.

Perhaps the best case for their theoretical approach is the Anthropocene. Here, the broader scale of analysis is essential, given that climate change involves human impacts that will affect the viability of numerous species. They turn to Indigenous and ecofeminist approaches that better frame how we are entangled with nonhuman elements that create these situations.

In their treatment of political power and violence, the weaknesses of the new materialist approach become more apparent. They offer, following Rosa Braidotti, that power is not just negative and oppressive (potestas) but also can be positive and creative (potentia). Yet, this is simply different wording for “power over” others rather than “power with” others, discussed decades ago. New terms are welcome, but connections to existing concepts could avoid unnecessary originality. Although they address recent Marxist, heterarchical, and anarchist approaches to the past as offering productive pathways, they ultimately critique those for being overly anthropocentric, or not posthumanist enough.

Although there is much to commend about new materialist and posthuman approaches, there are also limitations. Many of these have been pointed out by Randall McGuire (Cambridge Archaeological Journal 31: 495–501, 2020) and Artur Ribeiro (Forum Kritische Archäologie 8: 25–38, 2019), among others; much of David Graeber’s (Hau 5[2]: 1–41, 2015) critique of the Ontological Turn is relevant here as well. For instance, in their posthuman interpretations, Cipolla and colleagues write that “places can be leaders” (p. 68), or that “stones [and] flows of water . . . participate in political projects” (p. 55), or that Bronze Age barrows were “demanding and encouraging action” (p. 66). Oddly, they will critique other approaches for their essentialism (rightly), but I wonder how this new form of animism regarding nonhuman objects is a supposedly better method of interpretation. While countering essentialisms, they apply spirits to human creations and natural phenomena, without convincingly demonstrating that it is necessary to do so. It is fine to frame it as a thought experiment to get outside our own species-centric orientation, but using animistic language of objects with intentional purposes seems unnecessary—and inaccurate.

Although the authors assert that their approach is political, this claim is undermined by elevating resources as agents in history and actually minimizing the role of human interaction. This is apparent in their conclusions about global warming: “We might want to rethink the naming of the Anthropocene altogether; that name, privileging anthropos or people, suggests that people are the ultimate cause of the ecological problems that we face” (p. 157)—when advocates chose that name precisely to engage people to the import of the issue. There is no political organizing with nonhumans given that politics is about how humans relate to each other, even though it concerns how humans will relate to nonhumans. There is no use chanting “Objects of the world unite!” for instance. Only actual subjects can politically organize with potentia. This seems to be a blind spot that their approach should address. It may be a perpetual issue with a nonanthropocentric theory for archaeology, a discipline defined by being a study of human pasts (otherwise, without privileging a human focus, one might as well turn to biology, ecology, or geology).

The authors could strengthen their approach by also recognizing the “positive difference” of other approaches, especially those that foreground sociopolitical interaction, which are more rigorous and concrete about such practices in the past. Ironically, despite being advocates of a flat ontology, they uphold that posthuman approaches are the highest position of all. Rather than critiquing other approaches for their lack of posthuman commitments, I think a better way is to seek common ground to multiply avenues of effective interpretation and archaeological efforts toward the political concerns of our day.

Nevertheless, the book is thought provoking, underscoring archaeology’s relevance to contemporary issues. We need theory to advance our methods, interpretations, and practices. It is important to have experimental ways of thinking, just as Paul Feyerabend (Against Method, 1975) advised for any scientific endeavor. In this sense, Archaeology for Today and Tomorrow is a commendable work. Still, all theories have blind spots and require calibration. We also need to hone theories in such a way that they do not diminish humanity or our political engagement. For it is possible to hold that humans are not ontologically superior to other beings while at the same time acknowledging that we can only engage politically with other humans.