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Show THE PAST AS COMMODITY: CONSULTATION AND THE GREAT SALT LAKE SKELETONS Steven R. Simms, Department of Sociology, Social Work, and Anthropology, Utah State University, Logan, Utah 84322-0730 ABSTRACT Flooding of the Great Salt Lake exposed dozens of human remains beginning in 1987. A consultation process commenced to assess ownership, plan action, discuss scientific analyses, and seek state legislation for repatriation. This case study finds: consultation has no end, merely punctuations of decision; claimants to the past are myriad and dynamic; avocational and professional archaeologists must not be alienatedfrom the process because without them more, not fewer Native American skeletons will be destroyed; relative to preservation, less value is placed on learning about the past, despite the fact that preservation has value only in light of potential knowledge to be gained; the most exciting analyses are those requiring modification of bone, and the most far-sighted stance is to stand up firmly for scientific study; burial vaults offer the best solution for curation, but unless costs are controlled, politicians will be unwilling to fund them. INTRODUCTION The past as commodity? But the past is done-over. Of course, archaeologists already know that the past has served power interests throughout history (e.g., Fowler 1987). In the power relations of the present, "ownership" of the past is relevant when speaking of human burial remains and an ever-expanding list of commodities pertaining to cultural patrimony. But what do we mean by ownership? Is this just another signal of a contemporary world willing to make a commodity out of anything the selfish interests of people lead them to "consume"? Larry Zimmerman makes the point that "Burial sites are not fixed locations, and they cannot be abandoned or disrupted. No individual or group can 'own' the remains of another person" (1988). In a philosophical and spiritual sense this is surely so. In a legalistic and regulatory sense however, ownership of the past has come of age. Bones, objects, and in some cases, perhaps even unpublished notes, photos, and maps are a potential commodity to virtually anyone who may become empowered by control over these things. Of course, archaeologists know all this . . . don't we? Most archaeologists acknowledge that there are multiple legitimate interests in the past, but the profession seems torn by the irony of following what is often seen as the morally and politically correct route of giving primacy to native interests, while living with the knowledge that in doing so they may be sacrificing scientific and educational values pertinent to the common public good (cf. Goldstein and Kintigh 1990; Meighan 1992). Competition is the engine behind any resource monopoly. Thus, the process of making a commodity of the past requires the taking of sides, despite the rhetoric of compromise that accompanies the reburial issue. The fact that decisions about cultural patrimony are now in the arena of our judicial and governmental regulatory systems under the aegis of law ensures that sides must be chosen. Both of these systems, the regulatory ~ and especially the judicial ~ are at heart, adversarial. In the absence of an ability to confront, much less solve these philosophical and social ironies, decisions about cultural patrimony are made via what has come to be called the "consultation process." This is the term given in a spirit of conciliation to moderate the vulgar aspects of making the past a commodity subject to power brokering for transitory benefit. Consultation is a pragmatic response to the uneasy reality glimpsed by the various "sides" in the reburial controversy. I have been involved in a consultation process since the summer of 1988 involving a case of 85 human burials from 500 to 1,200 years old. The unfolding of that process is what I describe here. Perhaps the experience can flag characteristics of consultation, or support some observations of use to others as we encounter the full brunt of cultural patrimony in the near future. My story begins with the well-documented transgression of the Great Salt Lake, Utah, to its UTAH ARCHAEOLOGY 1993 pp. 1-5 UTAH ARCHAEOLOGY 1993 M / JS ft, J* 6 I? J? * / M 7-F of ^ -5 •/ / ^ •4^ • ^ Intensive consultation with Shoshoni Summer 1990 - Winter 1991 Figure 1. A time line for the consultation process in the case of the Great Salt Lake skeletons. highest level in recorded history, reached in spring 1987. Since the gradient of the lake bed is shallow, vast tracts of what were once lush wetlands, ponds, and streams were inundated. During the Fremont period (A.D. 400-1350) and early in the subsequent Late Prehistoric period, wetlands along the eastern shores of the Great Salt Lake between the modem sites of Salt Lake City, Ogden and Brigham City were home to population densities perhaps as high as any region in prehistoric Utah. Over 500 archaeological sites were exposed by waves and ice-action during transgression and subsequent regression of the lake. Among these were human skeletons. Vandalism began immediately and the ground surface deflated up to half a meter, leaving lag deposits of artifacts and human bone (Simms et al. 1991; Fawcett and Simms 1993). Only a few members of the Utah Statewide Archaeological Society (USAS), local, non-Indian people who lived in the Ogden area, initially knew about the skeletons. Over many fall and winter weekends in 1987 and 1988, they walked the mud flats and documented locations, tried to rebury exposed human remains and lobbied for official action. The first glimmer of a consultation process was seen in summer 1988, when the Utah Division of State History held a meeting in Salt Lake City among representatives of federal and state land managing agencies, archaeologists, and the Northwestern Band of the Shoshoni Nation, at the time officially based in Ft. Hall, Idaho. By the Spring of 1989 archaeologists were determining the impact to archaeological resources, especially burials, but no collections were made. Subsequent consultation proceeded incrementally, in both time and in terms of those involved (Figure 1). This fact can raise problems (and costs) as you proceed, but largely results from differential access among potentially interested parties to knowledge about discoveries of human remains, whether they are found in the field or in museum collections. As word spreads and information about provenience and circumstance of recovery becomes known, additional players attach themselves to the consultation, or must be notified because they are seen as indispensable to a "level playing field" (Goldstein 1992). Given the taking of sides characteristic of the process, there will be enough divisiveness, contrast in perspective, and suspicion to go around without any extra baggage. Knowledge of the Great Salt Lake skeletons was dependent on a grassroots effort, and without the avocational and professional archaeologists, the human remains would not have come to the attention of Native Americans, leaving the "resource" for other "users" of the past (vandals in this case). Thus, another contributor to successful consultation is the realization by all parties that no one interest group can operate without the others. This point is important because the complete exclusion of the non-Indian interests from a voice in the disposition of human remains will only promote the destruction of more, not fewer remains of Native American ancestors. Decisive consultation began in November 1989, when another meeting in Salt Lake City included agencies, archaeologists, USAS, the Northwestern THE PAST AS COMMODITY: CONSULTATION AND THE GREAT SALT LAKE 3 Band, and the Ute Indian Tribe, the latter based in Ouray, in northeastern Utah. Again, notice the incremental character of consultation. In this meeting, the first order of business was to establish which Native American group, or groups, held an interest in the land in question. There is ethnohistoric evidence indicating that the area north of Salt Lake City was Shoshoni and land to the south was Ute. Both groups described how their people overlapped in this area, but the Utes representing the tribe at the meeting were satisfied it was a Shoshoni problem. I discovered several years later that this decision was not supported by a segment of Utes. This highlights the reality that consultation has no end, because an enormous number of players can claim an interest in the past. Next, Shoshoni representatives were asked if the exposed remains should be left in place, or removed. If remains were exposed, how much should be visible to warrant removal? The two elderly men who had represented the Northwestern Band on various issues over the years as council and tribal members and who took deep interest in the problem were convinced that all visible bones and associated skeletons should be removed. After all, vandalism and erosion had been working on the remains for over a year and a half and photographs of human bone scattered across the landscape are compelling. Later this decision became controversial because as others attached themselves to the consultation process the decision was questioned, as was the status of the Shoshoni representatives in light of subsequent changes in tribal political leadership and in light of divided opinion among tribal members. Again, consultation was not really "over." What then is the relationship between consultation and action? Consultation will always walk a fine line between timely action and adequate input, but in many cases, bones will not wait for the lengthy process common to the judicial system, the system of public land management, or exhaustive consultation. Consultation has no end, it is merely a process punctuated by decisions. Thus, it is not enough to focus exclusively on fairness, inclusiveness, or consensus. Natural forces and vandalism do not wait for such things and hard choices must be made. Next came the problem of burial removal, not only raising the question of funding, but of the ultimate fate of the skeletons. All of the archaeologists affiliated with the process acknowledged that it was time Utah addressed the issue of cultural patrimony. Under pressure from Native Americans, and intentionally subtle support from archaeologists (few politicians are going to act on behalf of archaeologists per se), the Utah Legislature passed a bill (Senate Bill 214) in January 1990 funding removal of the exposed human remains. Now consultation had entered the world of serious politics. There was an atmosphere at times during the legislative process that the problem must be encouraged to disappear. There were worries that the burials would be used to resuscitate old treaties regarding ownership of sovereign lands on the floor of the Great Salt Lake. It is important to point out that scientific interests were virtually irrelevant at this stage of the process, despite the fact that the scientific value of cultural resources is already established by state and federal laws. Indeed, a proposal was offered at one point to hire a construction firm to mechanically remove the skeletons and deposit them in a mass grave rather than using archaeologists. In a perverse sense, this is consistent with "sharing" the past by including the construction business. Consistent with the low priority placed on learning about the past, the funding allocated was restricted to removal of the bones from the field and designation of a temporary curation site pending further consultation. Funding did not include any assessment of the context from which the burials came or study of the recovered material. I was the principal investigator managing this project and this was one of those instances in which my agreement to this incomplete solution hinged on the need for timely action since the bones had been exposed for nearly two years. Limited analysis was agreed upon through direct consultation between myself and the Shoshoni and this was subsequently volunteered by researchers or funded via limited, basic research channels. The lesson I learned from this is that advocates for scientific study are but one user of the past and cannot rely on the fact that learning about the past has been the mandate for the establishment of most cultural resource legal and management apparatus in the United States. By summer of 1990, most of the burials were removed from the impact area, but without provision for any subsequent handling beyond temporary curation. At this point the consultation process became disconnected from state bureaucracy, lost continuity and became narrowly conceived. In retrospect, allowing this to happen was a mistake, but I remain torn, having to face the choice of seeking full resolution of all aspects of the issue back in 1990 prior UTAH ARCHAEOLOGY 1993 to action vs. risking the loss of skeletons that all parties agreed needed to be moved immediately or lost. The former option would have been politically difficult, perhaps impossible. The latter choice was risky, but served the scientific values of the remains while attempting to be consistent with the ethic of preservation for reburial. A farsighted aspect of the legislative bill provided funds for a Governor's Committee on Reburial to broaden the consultation process to a statewide level and advise on future legislation pertaining to reburial and cultural patrimony. At this stage consultation took two courses, overlapping at times, but with different goals. One was that of the Governor's Committee working toward future legislation, eventually passing in January 1992 (Senate Bill 128) which was similar to existing federal legislation. The other continued to address the case of the Great Salt Lake skeletons and seemed to fall to me since I had agreed to remove them. Consultation along these lines continued to broaden, but now involving debate within the Northwestern Band of the Shoshoni. Numerous phone conversations and trips to Idaho, as well as visits to the field sites enabled discussion with an ever changing quorum of tribal legal council, tribal council members, and tribal members. The geographically scattered settlement of the Shoshoni and large rural distances were a significant source of dynamism in the group composition during consultations and exemplify a common pattern among contemporary Native American populations. The slowly emerging process was able to inform the Shoshoni of the scientific value of the remains, some of which interested some of the participants. Discussions centered around descriptions of prehistory, the types of study, what can be learned, whether the bones should be reburied in a vault or in open ground, and where this should be. In turn, I learned of perspectives on time and the past, on government, and on archaeologists. I heard oral history from tribal members and learned of views on human remains and how these views are formulated. Positions on what should be done with the burials ranged from doing nothing, to burial in open ground, to burial in a vault, to support for study, to an angst expressed only as sorrow for the tragedy that had transpired. About one year after removal of the bones from the field, in March 1991, an agreement was voted on by the tribal council of the Northwestern Band of the Shoshoni Nation (now based in Blackfoot, Idaho) that agreed to limited analyses, and stated a desire for a burial site agreeable to the Shoshoni, and preference for a burial vault. The latter enables limited future access to the remains via a defined process, with access ultimately determined by the tribe. Discussions leading to this agreement also covered "destructive" analysis and a suite of these were agreed to using a single small bone or bone fragments from each individual (AMS/14C, stable isotopes, DNA extraction). The term "destructive" is unfortunate since this refers to a growing class of studies that can be extremely constructive in determining what the past was like. Scientists would probably help their cause if the term was replaced with a less pejorative label-perhaps something like "direct analyses," or " substance analyses." While permission for the more psychologically palatable "nondestructive" analysis may seem easier to achieve, the unfortunate prospect is that many bones are going to be reinterred in the United States when new techniques in substance analysis are becoming capable of assisting the determination of ownership. This seems tragic given that determination of ownership is central to a just pursuit of the federal Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA). After a relatively quiescent interval, the consultation process was again punctuated in January 1993, when the efforts of the Shoshoni and two Utah legislators resulted in a bill (House Bill 368) funding a reburial vault at Pioneer Trail State Park in Salt Lake City. Implementation of the previously passed reburial laws also began and continues. Future study of the remains is not ruled out, but one caution can be offered. Cost control pertaining to vaults should be a paramount concern. Without it vaults may become politically infeasible in the future, despite their value in providing the last hope of achieving legitimate scientific study. In one sense this consultation can be touted as a success story involving the public, Native Americans, archaeologists, legislators, and public servants creating a shared past. On the other hand, there is a lesson that consultation per se cannot solve the philosophical and political dilemmas surrounding cultural patrimony and the pursuit of knowledge. Despite the central role given to consultation, without a firm stance on the philosophical issues, the scientific and educational values to the public will be given secondary consideration or none at all. Meanwhile, the term "consultation" is a seduction, rolls easily off THE PAST AS COMMODITY: CONSULTATION AND THE GREAT SALT LAKE 5 the tongue, appears in many guises and can apply to any of the myriad claimants to the past. It is about territory, careers, demagoguery, and transitory power-a reflection of contemporary culture and a reminder that the past is only with us in the present. Conflict in the Archaeology of Living Traditions, edited by R. Layton, pp. 211-216. One World Archaeology No. 8. Unwin Hyman, Winchester, Massachusetts. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Thanks to Leonard Alex, Mae Perry, Frank Timbimboo, George Worley, Gloria Valdez, Susie Wright, Larry Neaman and many other members of the Northwestern Band of the Shoshoni Nation. Thanks also to Jack Ross, tribal legal council, Mark Stuart, Dann Russell, Jim Hartwell, Bill and Sarah Yates, Gary DeMastrie and other members of the Utah Statewide Archaeological Society; a large contingent of Utah State University students; David Madsen, Kevin Jones, and Wilson Martin of the Utah Division of State History; and Carol Loveland of Utah State University. A version of this paper was read at the Great Basin Anthropological Conference, October 1992, Boise, Idaho. The perceptions described here are of course, the responsibility of the author. REFERENCES CITED Fawcett, William B., and Steven R. Simms 1993 Archaeological Test Excavations in the Great Salt Lake Wetlands and Associated Analyses. Contributions to Anthropology Number No. 14. Utah State University, Logan. Fowler, Don D. 1987 Uses of the Past: Archaeology in the Service of the State. American Antiquity 52:229-248. Goldstein, Lynne 1992 The Potential for Future Relationships Between Archaeologists and Native Americans. In Quandaries and Quests: Visions of Archaeology's Future, edited by LuAnn Wandsnider, pp. 59-71. Occasional Paper No. 20. Southern Illinois University, Carbondale. Goldstein, Lynne, and Keith Kintigh 1990 Ethics and the Reburial Controversy. American Antiquity 55:585-591. Meighan, Clement W. 1992 Some Scholars' Views on Reburial. American Antiquity 57:704-710. Simms, Steven R., Carol J. Loveland, and Mark E. Stuart 1991 Prehistoric Human Skeletal Remains and the Prehistory of the Great Salt Lake Wetlands. Contributions to Anthropology No 6. Utah State University, Logan. Zimmerman, Larry 1988 Human Bones As Symbols of Power: Aboriginal American Belief Systems Toward Bones and "Grave Robbing" Archaeologists. In UTAH ARCHAEOLOGY 1993 |
