Tim Lambert-Law de Lauriston
Hist. 4283
Dr. Brian Hosmer
7 December 2012
Decolonizing Archaeology
A recent area of intense scholarly study has been the process of “decolonizing” various
fields of scientific study. In fact, it is so popular that a Google search for just the word
“decolonizing” yields 425,000 results! Even a search on an “academic” search engine, such as
JSTOR, yielded 2,672 articles, reviews, and comments, showing that decolonization is indeed a
fast growing area of study. One particular “traditional” field of study that has been in need of
decolonization is that of archaeology. For years archaeologists have studied the cultures and
material remains of seemingly dead or extinct cultures, disregarding the wishes and thoughts of
the descendant communities of these “dead” cultures about how their ancestors, and ancestral
sites, should be treated, handled, represented, and studied.
This sentiment has been changing in recent years though, and archaeologists trained in
the modern era of post-colonial critiques are actively striving in multiple ways to “do” an
archaeology that is beneficial and respectful to living descendant communities. Long gone are
the days of archaeology, where archaeologists can literally rob graves, just so long as they shout
“This should be in a museum” as their justification. In addition to this, the traditional joke
among archeologists and anthropologists that “archaeologists become archaeologists, instead of
anthropologists, so they do not have to deal with living peoples” is no longer valid, though it
certainly has been in the past (personal communication, Garrick Bailey 2012).
With these thoughts in mind I move to the main bulk of this paper. Herein, I cover a
large range of topics concerning the “decolonization of archaeology”. These topics range from
general methodological discussions, theoretical and ethical issues, to various ways in which
decolonization has been put into practice in the “real world” of archaeology, particularly field
schools/excavations and in the classroom, and even what exactly should a decolonized
archaeology entail or look like. While this review is by no means exhaustive, I hope that the
literature presented will cover some of the most important, and in some senses the most
practical, areas that should be discussed when talking about a decolonized archaeology.
Sonya Atalay’s article Indigenous Archaeology as Decolonizing Practice is a very fitting
place to start our discussion. One of the first things that Atalay wants to make clear is that if
archaeology as a discipline wants to move beyond its colonial foundation, then archaeologists
must not “ignore the effects of past practices by placing the acts in a historical context that
works to excuse them” (Atalay 2006: 281). Put more simply, Atalay wants archaeologists to
begin with “a critical recognition of the colonial lens through which archaeological
interpretations have been built” and not excuse the horrible atrocities committed by
archaeology as a “product of the times” that in a sense was inevitable (Atalay 2006:283). She
then moves onto what a decolonized archaeology would look like, saying that at its core it
should be a socially just archaeology that “is in sync with and contributes to the goals, aims,
hopes, and curiosities of the communities whose past and heritage are under study”, or to
borrow a catch phrase that has been used in almost every publication discussing decolonizing
archaeology, it should be an archaeology “by, for, and with indigenous communities” (Atalay
2006:284).
One very important point for Atalay, and indeed many decolonization scholars, is
distinguishing between what she calls “collaboration” and “consultation”. She argues that
collaboration involves including descendant communities at every level of an archaeological
investigation, from the initial stages of project design, research goals, and grant writing to the
very end product of publication and dissemination of results. Consultation, on the other hand,
“does not necessarily allow for indigenous people to play an active role in the entire research
process” (Atalay 2006:293 original emphasis). Atalay’s “consultation” is what author Joe
Watkins calls “legislethics” or ethical approaches to involving descendant communities in
archaeology that are mandated by laws such as the Native American Grave Protection and
Repatriation Act (NARGPRA), the National Historic Preservation Act (NHPA), or the American
Indian Religious Freedom Act (AIRPA) (Watkins 2000:173). These laws require that
archaeologists consult with Native American groups in a government to government relation,
regarding the potential impact and repatriation of cultural heritage, instead of truly involving
the groups in all aspects of the research being conducted.
Atalay also denounces the common misconception that “Indigenous archaeology
is…simply archaeology done by or involving Indigenous peoples” and says that instead
“Indigenous archaeologists aim to challenge the master narrative…to bring back to Indigenous
people the power to set the agenda for their own heritage, to determine what is excavated, and
to remain involved in…their traditional methods of cultural resource management” (Atalay
2006:294). She ends the article by noting that Indigenous archaeology should not be considered
a sub-discipline of “traditional” archaeology, but rather must become “standard practice” that
acts as “part of a wider project of decolonizing and democratizing knowledge production in
archaeology and the social sciences more broadly” (Atalay 2006:302).
I think that Atalay does a very good job of detailing what should and should not be
considered a decolonized archaeology. She provides a very positive view of the direction that
archaeology is heading and the recent trends toward involving Indigenous groups in all facets of
research. The next piece of literature reviewed is intended to provide the other side of the coin,
when compared to Atalay’s work, in that it takes a very critical, and at times harshly worded and
negative, critique of the current failure of decolonizing practice, while at the same time offering
words of advice on how to fix the problems.
Juan Gomez-Quiñones’ Indigenous Quotient, Stalking Words: American Indian Heritage
as Future is essentially a compilation of two essays written by the author that harshly critiques
the current fields of history, anthropology, and the social sciences in general, in the first essay,
then offers very constructive suggestions in the second essay on how to overcome these
shortcomings. He starts by recognizing, like Atalay, that decolonizing methodologies should not
be a “special presentation, project option, or ethnographic appreciation here and there, but
rather [they should be characterized by] the full integration of Native American histories and
cultures into academic curriculums” (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:13). Moving from here he
shortly reviews the history of atrocities that have occurred from contact into modern times. He
is particularly concerned with the fact that writings of people such as Christopher Columbus and
Hernan Cortes are given “canonical status” in classrooms settings, without discussing their
inherently colonialist nature. Another example that he is disturbed with is the representation of
Bartolome de Las Casas and Vasco de Quiroga as the “defender of the Indians” and “a reformer
and visionary” respectively (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:22). He says that neither of these, or
other peoples heralded as sympathetic to Indigenous peoples such as Juan Gines de Sepulveda,
should “be considered humanist or humanitarian in the traditional sense—i.e. empathetic,
tolerant, and privileging personhood” (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:23). He views both of these
examples as contributing to the foundations of what he terms “Aborigenism” defined as the
“disparagement of Indian heritage and a fundamental denial of Indians’ cultural contributions”
and goes on to say that this idea is “utilized by admirers of imperialism, as well as false liberal
friends, who feign empathy while covertly supporting imperialist agendas” (Juan GomezQuiñones 2012:14). Thus he, like many others, feel it is of the upmost importance that anybody
involved in decolonizing any field of study recognize the colonialist roots of their discipline and
work to not excuse, or in some cases glorify, it.
As part of his decolonizing methodology he examines how the history of many
Indigenous groups has either been appropriated by their imperialist overlords or ignored
altogether. The earliest example he cites of appropriation is the Criollo or “Mesoamerican
born…descendants…of European invaders” people who “researched Indian accomplishments
and through some weird mental alchemy claimed them as their own” (Juan Gomez-Quiñones
2012:26). He tells of early 17th and 18th century writers such as Carlos de Siguenza y Gongora,
who was part of a marginalized middle-class group who wanted to fight for their rights, and thus
created a “Europeanized version of Mexica/Aztec political history” thus providing a
demonstration of the power of the colonizers to appropriate the history of the colonized for
political gain. On the other side of the spectrum he turns to the United States to highlight a
similar power, but one used to delete Indigenous history from memory. He notes that America,
like many other imperialist countries, “arose through violence, have colonialist roots, and share
certain modern biases [about the] Indigenous” (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:32). He goes on to
say that “racism, colonialism, appropriation, and exploitation are too often deleted from the
history pages of the United States curriculum” an instead replaced with ideas such as the
frontier theory that explained the atrocities committed against Indigenous groups as “the
advance of democracy, development, and individualism—when in fact what you had was
violence, robbery, and plutocracy” (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:32). Again, he believes this
contributes to the idea of Aborigenism and that it must stop and be replaced the actual versions
of what happened, who it happened to, and who did the “happening”.
The second part of this author’s book attempts to offer suggestions as to how the
wrongs he discussed in the first part can begin to be righted. He calls for the creation of a
“theory of Indigenitude” which would be characterized by “Indigenist cosmology (world and
society), Indigenist citizenship (equality and autonomy), and Indigenist ethics (values and
aesthetics)” (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:63). The ultimate goal of this theory, he says, would
be to provide “an answer to the false colonialist epistemology, which has long denied autonomy
to the Indigenous” and in practice “stresses persons and peoples—real social relations” instead
of material objects (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:64). He, like others, calls for the theory to be
grounded in Indigenous sources of knowledge, tangible and intangible alike, that stem from
actual Indigenous peoples, not outsiders writing about them and their knowledge. He believes
that a key concept of this theory “involves understanding the convergence of history and the
present, and gaining from this understanding a motivation to change the present “, thus using
the theory to kick start much needed social reform among Indigenous peoples all over North
America (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:69).
He closes his book with a few key thoughts about his proposed Theory of Indigenitude.
One is the fact that no “pro-Indigenous education groups and efforts exist on a large sustained
level” and he feels that this must be fixed by implementing these kinds of groups into the
academy, as well as in multiple other spheres of interaction (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:77).
He also notes that every problem faced by Indigenous people is not likely to be fixed by this
theory, but it is definitely worth the time anyway, as on its largest level “Indigenous theory is a
contribution to the analysis of the human condition” which can provide insights into many other
realms of inquiry (Juan Gomez-Quiñones 2012:89). Thus, we see that this author, just like many
others that will be discussed below, is first and foremost concerned with justifying old wrongs
by using a decolonized theory, as well as providing real world, tangible benefits to the people
that these wrongs have happened to.
With an idea know in mind about what a decolonized archaeology, or even a
decolonized “Theory of Indigenitude” in general, might look like, it is possible to move on to real
examples of how these theories have been implemented in the field of archaeology. The first
part of this discussions involves several case examples of decolonized archaeological projects
from multiple regions around the globe including, Canada, Australia, Turkey, and examples from
here in America. The second part deals explicitly with examples of decolonized archaeological
field schools, which are the traditional means of educating young, blossoming archaeologists
about the applied side of their chosen field of study. In both examples, the main focus will be
on how the project utilized decolonizing methods, what was gained or learned by using these
methods when compared to traditional methods, and finally how did the Indigenous
communities involved in the projects benefit from their involvement.
The first example comes from Australia discussed in Claire Smith and Gary Jackson’s
article Decolonizing Indigenous Archaeology: Developments from Down Under. One of the key
focuses in their paper is how language has served as a major tool of colonization, and
consequently how language should be “fundamental to the decolonization process” (Smith and
Jackson 2006:313). They point out the first step in utilizing language is to realize that
archaeological language, or more broadly scientific language, can not be completely objective,
contrary to popular belief. On this they say “language can be used to injure people, not only
through labeling and description, but also through silences and omissions” (Smith and Jackson
2006:314). A prime example they say is the use of the word “Aboriginal” to describe the native
inhabitants of Australia. The argue that this is offensive and inherently colonialist as it
“collapses the cultural and geographic boundaries of more than six hundred diverse Indigenous
groups, each of which had its own political system, laws, and language” for the ease of use by
the colonial state of Australia (Smith and Jackson 2006:315). To help get rid of this
misconception, the authors say that they and many other archaeologist now refer to the
cultures they are studying by whatever term the descendant communities wish to be called,
whether that name is based on language, community , or by region. This exercise not only
allows for the Indigenous populations to exert control over their own identity, but can be used
to help establish historical and archaeological relationships between “geographic, temporal, and
social webs” that otherwise might not have been known (Smith and Jackson 2006:315). One
other example of how language is being used to empower Indigenous communities in Australia
is the renaming of Australia Day, the day the first British settlers arrived in Australia, by
Indigenous communities to Invasion Day or Survival Day highlighting “the past, present, and
future survival of Indigenous Australians” (Smith and Jackson 2006:319). In addition to this,
indigenous communities make, sell, or just wear clothing with the catch phrase “Aboriginals
Discovered Cook” on this and other days to make known the occupation of Australia by
Indigenous communities for tens of thousands of years before James Cook arrived.
From this the authors move onto discuss the major benefits that their work has
conferred on the communities that they partner with. The first is simply, monetary. They note
that they pay what amounts to royalty fees to the Indigenous groups that they work with,
specifically when using photographic images of said groups or individuals. The authors say that
prices range from $US75 to $US300, “with the lower rate for each photo of an individual or a
site and the higher rate for cover images of books of images of several people” (Smith and
Jackson 2006:335). The royalties are paid each time the image is used in a new publication or
setting and the monies are paid either using book sale proceeds, grant funds, or in some cases
the authors’ personal salaries!, when the images are used in journal articles and no direct
money is made from the photo’s publication. They also help the community by having various
individuals travel with them to archaeological conferences worldwide, either as co-presenters,
sole presenters, or as members of the audience. While this may seem more like a fun vacation,
the authors argue that this benefits the individuals by helping them gain world experience, a
better understanding for how archaeological results are disseminated, and even helps to build
prestige, as they note that “travel has long conferred status in many Indigenous cultures” as it
represent accumulation of knowledge and experience (Smith and Jackson 2006:336).
The authors close this article with what has, since reading it, become one of my favorite
quotations/critiques about the field of archaeology. They state “The archaeological and
anthropological practices outlined in this paper do not ‘empower’ Indigenous peoples, they
simply refrain from disempowering them” (Smith and Jackson 2006:341). By following a
decolonizing practice in their work in Australian archaeology Smith and Jackson have stated,
though it was not discussed in the paper, that an archaeology that attempts to “empower”
Indigenous peoples is just as rooted in colonial thought as the archaeology that disempowers
people. This is because it places archaeology in the superior position of being able to “give”
power to the Indigenous communities, rather than recognizing their inherent right to that
power. As Juan Gomez-Quiñones states, “We learn that rights are not to be accepted as gifts”
through this kind of theoretical approach.
The next example comes from Canada in George Nicholas’ article Decolonizing the
Archaeological Landscape: The Practice and Politics of Archaeology in British Columbia. This
author is involved with landscape archaeology and seeks to involve Indigenous ideas and values
about past land use practices as “worldwide…Indigenous explanations of past land use has often
been used to verify existing theories” (Nicholas 2006:350). Most of his work is dedicated to
finding and identifying sites for forestry services, logging companies, or development projects so
as to protect traditional land use areas and sites. He says that “some aspects of past land use
fall completely outside the realm of Western understanding” and thus in order to completely
identify all the sites that need to be recorded it is necessary to contact Indigenous communities.
He also makes the argument, which is very true, that many landscape archaeological studies
have been involved in Indigenous land claim cases as an “effective tool for First Nations who
have been pursuing the restoration of their rights and land for well over a century” to prove that
they do have entitlements to said land and rights (Nicholas 2006:356).
The one other aspect that Nicholas stresses should be a part of any Indigenous
archaeology project, and he indeed always strives to include it in his own work, is the aspect of
education, whether that be of the general public, other academics, or the Indigenous
communities themselves. This author conducted a project from 1991 to 2005 on a First Nation
reserve that offered both classroom and in the field training to Indigenous community
members. The main motivation for this aspect of the project, he notes “is to provide Native
students with the knowledge and means for them to use archaeology as a tool to use as they see
fit; I don’t expect them to do my kind of archaeology” (Nicholas 2006:364 emphasis added). He
also says that even though many of the project’s participants are not currently pursuing careers
in archaeology, that this was never the intended goal, and thus should not be used as a measure
of success for the project.
Thus, in this project the author’s own personal feelings about what he has gained is
“In addition to identifying and describing material culture at these sites, archaeologists have also
worked to refine local and regional cultural histories, to explain evidence of cultural change or
stability, and to reconstruct past land use patterns. In many instances, this work has been
informed by Indigenous traditional knowledge, which has proved especially useful in
reconstructing past cultural landscapes” (Nicholas 2006:370).
And the Indigenous communities have slowly been regaining rights over their traditional land
use areas, as exemplified in Anna Willow’s book Strong Hearts, Native Lands: The Cultural and
Political Landscape of Anishinaabe Anti-Clear cutting Activism. In addition to this, many
Indigenous peoples are gaining useful knowledge in not only the field of archaeology, but in
scientific practice in general, and more education in more areas is never a bad thing.
The third example comes from Michoacán, Mexico in Decolonizing Archaeology in the
Meseta Purepecha, Michoacán, Mexico: A Case Study, a paper by Tricia Gabany-Guerrero and
Steven Hackenberger. This study started out when the authors were investigating a large Classic
Period earthen mound, they were told by the elders of the community about a place up in the
mountains that had “ancient writings” on the side of a cliff wall. The authors state that “the
elders were concerned about the potential destruction of this place as the ecotourism unit had
planned to promote rock climbing and rappelling in the same area” (Guerrero and Hackenberger
2006:8). The authors investigated the site and found that the there was ample evidence for
investigation and subsequently gained permission from the community to excavate there.
Initially the Indigenous community was skeptical about the team investigating this area as they
believed that the drawings were probably “graffiti which had…recently been placed there by
local scoundrels” and they believed that “what was in their lands could not contain anything
valuable relating to their past” (Guerrero and Hackenberger 2006:9). What the authors found
was amazing. In their excavations they uncovered what is now the oldest known burial with
“the site predate[ing] the earliest known burials…by over 1000 years” (Guerrero and
Hackenberger 2006:9). The community, as the authors state, “armed with this new
evidence…has forged new linkages with the elders of the community. School groups with
enthusiastic children…now visit the site as part of the new cultural history of the region” and
they go on to say that “the community is creating new ideas about the past on their own terms
and in their territory” (Guerrero and Hackenberger 2006:10). The people have even started
using the images of the rock art and the image of the burial uncovered, colloquially called
Huitzinicki or “the bald one”, on clothing articles and other material items to identify their town.
Even though there was seemingly not much gained by the archaeologists from including the
local community, except for the discovery of the site itself, the main purpose of this project was
met in that it gave back loads to the community. It provided them with information about their
past and allowed them to draw their own conclusions based on the information. The site is
currently being used in an education setting and the town will most likely in the future use it as
an ecotourism spot as the site is “a critical, if not one of the most critical cultural heritage sites
in the entire region of West Mexico” (Guerrero and Hackenberger 2006:10).
Another example comes from Sonya Atalay’s book Community Based Archaeology:
Research with, by, and for Indigenous and Local Communities. While this book covers a huge
spectrum of issues relating to the theoretical and methodological sides of decolonizing
archaeology, the only part that will be discussed from the book is Atalay’s work with the
Indigenous community closest to the site Çatalhöyük in modern day Turkey, as many of Atalay’s
views on the other issues are presented earlier in this paper using one of her articles. This
example is a very good one to discuss, as this was a project that had already been going on for
several years before Atalay became involved with the community outreach side, showing that
even pre-existing projects can have an element of Indigenous archaeology added to them. The
first step that Atalay discusses is the choosing of a community to work with. While this may
seem like a non-essential part of the process she believes it is one of the most important and
often time most controversial steps, of a project. This is because there might be what she has
termed “multiple stakeholders” who might all have legitimate reasons for being the Indigenous
communities involved with the project, and picking one or the other could lead to hostilities
between the separate communities or the communities and the archaeologists. To help
overcome these potential problems Atalay started out by “conducting a series of interviews with
residents from the six…communities [geographically closest to the site]” (Atalay 2012:13).
Through these interviews Atalay found that all of the six communities agreed that one particular
village, Küçükköy, was the best suited and had the most legitimate claim for being included in
the research project. By doing this, Atalay and the research team was able to avoid any
potential conflicts that may have arisen over any perceived “favoritism” towards that
community.
The next step this author identifies was distributing materials about the site to help
educate community members about it, as well as to get the word out that the team wanted to
involve the community in the project. This was accomplished through “a regular newsletter,
informational kiosks, site and lab tours, a comic series for children, and an onsite annual
community festival” (Atalay 2012:14). In addition to this, she continually conducted interviews
and encouraged feedback, comments, and criticisms from the Indigenous communities about
how they thought the project was succeeding, failing, or on potential areas of research and
community development they wished to see involved with the project. From this feedback
mechanism Atalay says that they have been able to increase “local involvement in the
management, protection, and heritage tourism at the Çatalhöyük site” as well as a number of
projects that directly give back to the community such as
“a traveling archaeological theatre troupe…a women’s craft co-operative…using the dig house
buildings…to create handicrafts with archaeological designs to sell…an internship research
training program …and a village based community cultural heritage board is in place to
participate in regional site planning and management making decisions” (Atalay 2012:15).
Although the author admits that “this collaboration did not follow the path I expected…it has
made incredible strides and continues to grow” which she is happy with as the community was
involved in deciding the path the project would take and what they wanted or needed to get out
of it (Atalay 2012:15).
One of Atalay’s main benefits Atalay says that the archaeologists at Çatalhöyük are
getting from their connection with the local community is the dispelling of long held
misconceptions about the field of archeology. She notes that several members of the
community believed that the research team was “using the flotation machine to recover gold
from the mound” and thus get rich off their heritage (Atalay 2012:217). She goes on to explain
that their “local interns were able to assure them that this was not the case” and says that it was
important to let the local interns tell the community this as “it means something very different
when community members hear this sort of explanation from…someone they know and trust—
rather than from an archaeologist” (Atalay 2012:217). Another misconception that was
overturned was that archaeologists were selling the artifacts they recovered for personal gain,
which she says is not just a problem at this site, but across mot of Turkey. The last major idea
that the collaboration helped to correct was that “local community members thought
archaeologists were simply digging up bodies and dumping them in a mass grave” and what was
most disheartening about this revelation was that the man who asked what was actually
happening to the bodies “had been part of the daily excavation process for years, yet was
completely unaware of what happened to the human remains after they were excavated”
(Atalay 2012:218). While to many this may not seem like a big “benefit” to understanding what
went on at the site, Atalay feels that archaeologists everywhere can benefit from correcting
these long held misconceptions, because it will help to break down the barriers and build trust
between the archaeologists and the communities they wish to work with.
The last example of a project that used archaeology in a decolonized way comes from
the far north east of the United States. In Frederick Wiseman’s book Reclaiming the Ancestors:
Decolonizing a Taken Prehistory of the Far Northeast the author shows how the most recent
archaeological evidence can be used to dispel stereotypes about the ancient Wabanaki peoples.
The long held belief was that the Wabanaki were backward to far inferior to surrounding
peoples such as the Iroquois or other Northeastern and even Midwestern cultures. The author
terms this idea the “Dumb Abenaki” model and says that it is based off of diffusionist ideas that
the Wabanaki people were only passive recipients of many other cultures original ideas
(Wiseman 2005:14). What is most perplexing to the author is that this idea is still prevalent
even though “well dated archaeological data reveals that the Wabanakis were not a cultural
‘backwater’” (Wiseman 2005:15). This book was of particular interest to me as it moves from
the purely methodological and theoretical discussions, and actually presents the analysis of the
sites that he uses to dispel the “Dumb Abenaki” model. He actually discussed the archaeological
evidence and presents it in light of Wabanaki oral histories and origin stories. One very neat
thing he included was “historical reconstructions” in which he blends the current archaeological
evidence and the oral traditions of his Wabanaki tribe to identify what was going on at different
places and at different time periods throughout Wabanaki history and prehistory. A couple
places where the archaeological evidence and the oral traditions line up with amazing accuracy
are the ideas of Wabanaki origins during the recession of the last ice age and the introduction of
corn into the Northeastern United States (Wiseman 2005). This type of research shows the
veracity of what Atalay calls “braided knowledge” in which traditional knowledge systems are
blended with archaeological evidence to prove each other correct and supply new, creative, and
accurate analysis of Indigenous history (Atalay 2012).
The main area where this author’s research is helping out his Native community is in
providing evidence for the possible upcoming land claims cases surrounding the Wabanaki
people. He says that the “state of Vermont and the Province of Quebec will certainly attempt to
“prove” in court that ethnic Iroquois settled Vermont and Southern Quebec, leaving the
Wabanaki as transients…and Wabanaki claims to the area may be invalidated” (Wiseman
2005:235). This author states that should a court case actually arise in which the Wabanaki
claim to their land is challenged he will most assuredly “use all of my knowledge, all of my heart,
and all of my cunning …to defeat the settler governments [of Vermont and Quebec]…and to
defend my homeland” (Wiseman 2005:35). Only time will tell if a court case will actually come
about, but if it should Indigenous archaeology such as this study will be over immense
importance to supporting the Wabanaki peoples, its rights, and its traditional land use area.
With the regional discussions over, we can now move onto the second area of this topic,
that is the one of Indigenous archaeological field schools. I feel the best example comes from
Gonzalez et al.’s article called Archaeology for the Seventh Generation. This paper discusses a
field school at Fort Ross in Sonoma County California, provided by the University of California—
Berkley in collaboration with the Kashaya Pomo tribe. The ultimate goal of this project was to
produce an interpretive trail around the sight that would show the importance of the fort to the
Kashaya people and the surrounding economy. What seemed to me to be the most important
aspect of this project is that it “did not consciously set out to decolonize archaeology” but ended
up doing so anyway (Gonzalez et al. 2006:396). I see this as a very positive direction for
archaeology because it was just “natural” for the principal investigators to carry out the field
school in this way showing that a decolonized archaeology is slowly moving away from being a
“specialized field” and towards being the dominant form of archaeology practiced.
Several ways that this field school was decolonized was that, first of all, all people were
in continual contact with local tribal members. And by all people, they really mean all, including
undergraduate and graduate students, volunteers, and the field directors interviewed, spoke
with, and were constantly collaborating with the Kashaya tribal members. This helps to break
down existing power barriers between not just the archaeological team and the tribe, but also
within the archaeological team as well, making all participants feel like they have something
important to contribute to the project. In addition they did things like hiring on local women to
cook the meals for the field school, and while they note that this is usually seen as an inferior
position in most field school, “among the Kashaya cooking for large groups of people is a highly
respected and dignified activity” thus placing the women in a high status role. (Gonzalez et al.
2006:400). They also respected the tribes concerns over women’s menstrual cycles and what
the women participants could or could not do on the site during their cycles. This led to a better
understanding of the tribal customs as well as building a stronger relationship and trust
between the research team and the tribe. Another area of tribal custom they observed was the
abstention from consuming alcohol while on or near the site, or by anybody who would be
digging the site that day. By following these and other guidelines, the team helped “make the
field camp a place in which the Kashaya elders felt comfortable” again strengthening the bonds
between the team and the tribe.
The main benefit the authors feel that the archaeologists received from this decolonized
field school was learning about the traditional customs and beliefs of the Kashaya people. They
also were invited to participate in tribal ceremonies regarding the site, leading to a greater
appreciation and understanding as to why the Kashaya do and believe what they do. On this the
authors say “by spending time with Kashaya elders and hearing their oral traditions, the
students and staff…gained a deeper insight into the…Kashaya cultural resources and landscapes
around Fort Ross and how they might be interpreted to general audiences” (Gonzalez et al.
2006:409). Indeed the authors believe that if the only thing the students took away from this
project was learning how to interact with, understand, and respect the ideas and beliefs of
another culture then the field school had been successful.
The final piece of literature to be examined is the book Collaborating at the Trowel’s
Edge: Teaching and Learning in Indigenous Archaeology edited by Stephen Silliman. This book is
a collection of essays, papers, and articles that deals with multiple case examples of decolonized
field schools from all over the United States. The editor states that one of his goals is for
archaeologists to quit worrying so much about “the sharpness of the trowel’s edge—a favorite
obsession in North American field archaeology—[and] should worry more about who grips he
trowel’s handle and whether their voices are heard” (Silliman 2008:5). Since discussing every
article is far beyond the scope of this paper, I will instead focus on several of the main ideas that
this book talks about. The first is what Mills et al. call “field schools without trowels” in which
the field school focuses more on “mapping equipment, GPS receivers, cameras, computers, data
recorders, and the concepts of community collaboration” rather than actually excavating (Mills
et al. 2008:35). While they note that some excavations did take place, they say that “trowels
were one of the least used tools that students became familiar with” (Mills et al. 2008:34).
Other areas of interest in this collection were ethics classes held at various field schools
which, from personal experience and communications, are not usually included in the run of the
mill field school. These classes included different topics like discussing the pros and cons of
current ethics codes of several major professional archaeological groups like the Society for
American Archaeology and the World Archaeological Congress, to legislated ethics, and how
Indigenous ethics might be different from other’s ethical codes. One important area of interest
was the call for archaeology to be accepted as a “craft” given that “archaeologists craft a
product—history—through a combination of…archaeological information…and a responsiveness
to communities” (Silliman and Dring 2008:69). This helps to decolonize the field by implying the
Indigenous histories are not discovered by archaeologists, but are rather created by the
archaeologists in collaboration with the Indigenous communities that they work with.
The final area of this book, and indeed this paper, to be discussed is one that I feel is of
the upmost importance to a decolonized archaeology. This is what author Jack Rossen calls his
“expanded identity” that came about in the course of his work. He says an expanded identity
would be characterized by the archaeologist being an “advocate for contemporary Native issues,
constructing a relationship with Native people that transcends archaeology” (Rossen 2008:107).
He says that to him personally this means that “whether or not people approve of my research
activities, my advocacy and community involvement have somewhat submerged my identity as
an archaeologist” (Rossen 2008:108). He says that this should not be used to hide research data
or processes, but rather place them “within the broader framework and identity of the
community activist” (Rossen 2008:108). I believe that all archaeologists involved in Indigenous
archaeology should take on this expanded identity and even when their project with a particular
community is over, that they should still be involved with that community, its needs, wants,
desires, and political struggles. If all archaeologists can do this, I believe our field will begin to
be recognized as one that “does some good, instead of one that does no harm” (Watkins 2000:
33).
A lot of material has been covered in this paper on the current trend of decolonizing
archaeology. Everything from the theoretical and methodological discussions, to certain
examples from around the globe, and how field school can utilize a decolonized archaeology has
been discussed. I personally have high hopes that this trend will continue and indeed will no
longer be a trend, but instead it will become the way all archaeology is practiced. I believe that
the literature presented in this paper make a strong case that the field of archaeology will
continue to be decolonized to the extent that practitioners of the field 25 years ago will look at
archaeology a few years from now and not even recognize it. These are definitely exciting times
to be trained in and learning about archaeology and I personally hope that the work that I do in
the future will be able to include many of the aspects that the authors of the literature
discussed in this paper have presented.
Works Cited and Referenced
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