Repatriation to Indigenous groups is more than law, it’s human rights − an archaeologist describes the day that lesson hit home
- Written by Christopher Wolff, Associate Professor of Anthropology, University at Albany, State University of New York
As an archaeologist, you picture yourself traveling to some remote location, digging into the ground, and returning to a lab in a university or museum to study the remains of past civilizations, with hopes of answering important questions.
In contrast, I’ve often found myself working to return those remains to their rightful cultures. Repatriation is the process of returning ancestral human remains and important objects to descendant populations. Since the passing of the National Museum of the American Indian Act[1] in 1989 and the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act[2] in 1990, it has become an increasingly important part of archaeological practice, yet about 110,000 ancestors[3] remain in collections.
This work is about more than legal obligations. To many researchers such as myself[4], it is a matter of human rights.
When first enacted, these laws were controversial[5] among archaeologists. Much of this anxiety stemmed from worries about losing access to research opportunities. Some concerns were shaped by legal battles surrounding the remains of “Kennewick Man[6],” whom Indigenous people refer to as the “Ancient One.” This man’s remains were found in Washington state in 1996 and dated to over 8,000 years ago. Scientists won the legal right to study them, in opposition to local tribal nations’ requests[7], until a 2016 law returned the remains of the individual to those groups.
Over time, many archaeologists have seen that while repatriation requirements limit research in some ways, in others they have been beneficial and improved aspects of archaeologists’ relationships with Indigenous communities.
More importantly, repatriation laws have served as a partial remedy[8] for the historical trauma[9] of those peoples.
This is not an idea I was exposed to as a graduate student. Like many others in my field, I had virtually no exposure to the actual process of repatriation, even more than a decade after the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, called NAGPRA, was signed into law. Rather, it is one that developed while I served as a repatriation archaeologist for the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History from 2009-2011, and in the following years as a professor of archaeology.
Careful process
Repatriation includes important steps that are required by law, as well as other ethical considerations. First, any human remains or objects that fall within certain categories[11] – such as sacred objects, or funerary objects – should be stored where they can be properly cared for with respect. For instance, Indigenous groups may ask that tobacco be placed with the remains, as an offering to their ancestors’ spirits[12].
Researchers must compile information about these human remains into an itemized list containing the number of individuals and objects, brief descriptions of them, where they were found, and how they came into the institution’s possession. This list is then provided to representatives of communities that may be descendants, or possible living relatives.
If those communities decide to request the remains’ return, then the formal process of assessing “cultural affiliation[13]” begins. This is a thorough analysis of any evidence demonstrating a connection between the remains or objects and a particular group today. Evidence can include many things, including physical characteristics of the human remains or objects, written documents, oral history, or distinct cultural attributes of the artifacts.
Legally, this process is required only for federally recognized Indigenous groups. However, institutions can choose to apply the same consideration to other communities if they believe it is appropriate, such as the hundreds of Indigenous groups that lack federal recognition[14].
The analysis is officially submitted to the national NAGPRA database[15], and a public notice is posted so that other interested parties could potentially make a claim on the remains or objects.
If researchers confirm there is a cultural affiliation, after a 90-day waiting period an official repatriation statement is filed with the national office. Researchers then consult with the requesting parties about how to conduct the physical return. What happens next is in the hands of the affiliated groups, and their wishes must be accommodated.
Unfortunately, many remains have already suffered significant damage by the time repatriation begins. A great many of them have sat on shelves unstudied, sometimes for decades or longer – even those that came into the collection legally and in collaboration with Indigenous groups.
Powerful moment
One such individual was the key to a major shift in how I viewed repatriation – no longer as a research hindrance but as a question of human rights. Out of respect for the Indigenous nation, I cannot discuss specifics – only a broader picture of this “aha” moment.
One day at work, I found myself looking at an individual who had died several centuries ago, but was so well preserved that his death looked much more recent. It can be too easy to look at a collection of human bones and forget that they were once a living person, despite trying to teach students otherwise. However, that day I looked down and clearly saw a man: his face painted, his hair neatly done, earrings in his ears, laid out in a beautiful box.
Obviously, whoever tended to him after his death had taken great care, placing him in a sacred place where he had every expectation that he would be left undisturbed. He could not have perceived that centuries later someone would collect his remains and ship him away from his traditional lands to be studied in a museum.
That hit home for me. I would not want someone to go against my final wishes, or those of my family, and felt this man should have the same human rights I have in that regard.
I regret it took me so long to see that. Ever since, I’ve worked hard to make up for that by teaching my students to see the past full of people with expectations, hopes and emotions, and to extend ethical obligations to them as we would want applied to us. Archaeology is about learning from the past, and working in repatriation and meeting this individual provided me with one of the best lessons of my career.
References
- ^ National Museum of the American Indian Act (www.congress.gov)
- ^ Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (uscode.house.gov)
- ^ about 110,000 ancestors (www.propublica.org)
- ^ such as myself (www.albany.edu)
- ^ these laws were controversial (doi.org)
- ^ the remains of “Kennewick Man (doi.org)
- ^ in opposition to local tribal nations’ requests (doi.org)
- ^ a partial remedy (www.jstor.org)
- ^ the historical trauma (www.taylorfrancis.com)
- ^ AP Photo/M. Spencer Green (newsroom.ap.org)
- ^ fall within certain categories (www.nps.gov)
- ^ an offering to their ancestors’ spirits (www.mpm.edu)
- ^ assessing “cultural affiliation (www.nps.gov)
- ^ lack federal recognition (www.politico.com)
- ^ the national NAGPRA database (apps.cr.nps.gov)
- ^ AP Photo/Andrew Harnik (newsroom.ap.org)
Authors: Christopher Wolff, Associate Professor of Anthropology, University at Albany, State University of New York
