1
SACRED GROUND: LINKING NAGPRA, SCIENTIFIC RACISM, AND THE DAKOTA ACCESS PIPELINE
Kayla Maddock
English 2001-114: Writing Across the Curriculum
November 21, 2016
Archaeology faces unfamiliar territory when it finds itself on the nightly news or the front page of CNN; it is a field thought to be a business of the past that carries little interest to the future. However, the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe of North Dakota faces a glaring foil to this idea: a pipeline over a thousand miles long that, according to federal legislation, should not exist. Cutting through sacred ground and destroying precious archaeological sites, the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) should have been targeted by federal laws that would have prevented such destruction. The failure to carry out these measures appropriately illustrates a much greater problem, one that archaeology is responsible for creating and fixing: the disregard for the Native American population and the continued reluctance to respect proper legislation, most important of which includes the Native American Graves and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA). This paper will examine the history of scientific racism that has permeated archaeology since its inception, how that discrimination plays into NAGPRA today, and ultimately argue that the failure of such federal legislation concerning the DAPL sets a dangerous precedent for the future when the roads of preservation and progress intersect.
Anthropology, and by extension archaeology, is certainly not the only field of study to fall prey to the toxicity of racism, but its concern with the study of humans means bigoted beliefs have greatly influenced how people have been studied, and therefore presented, to the viewing public. David Hurst Thomas’s exemplary novel Skull Wars outlines the deep roots of racism in science, originating with the theory of monogenesis (the origin of a single source, à la Adam and Eve) versus polygenesis (multiple, independent origins of humans). Biblical justification was the norm, with European scientists asserting that non-white races were inferior mutations. By far the most influential mind to espouse this belief was Samuel George Morton, a physician who amassed a collection of hundreds of skulls with the intent to compare their sizes in order to determine the relative intelligence of the races. The methodology of his experiments was eventually proven to be deeply flawed, but his findings took root in the scientific world: European scientists had concrete, empirical data that “proved” the superiority of the white race, and such thinking became the foundation of future anthropological thought.[1]
As archaeology became more reputable as a science, its influence expanded to facilitate racist societal structures that saw little popular dissent. Haitian anthropologist Anténor Firmin’s The Equality of the Human Races, a book in direct response to Arthur de Gobineau’s essay “Of the Inequality of Human Races,” lambasts the European insistence on promoting white superiority through Morton-like measures and maintains that any theory that opposes basic justice and moral principles must be considered false. In 1885, this was a controversial opinion. In 2016, Boaduo revisits this work, arguing that Firmin’s argument went unheard, made apparent in modern interpretations of the continent of Africa as a poverty-stricken and uncultured place ripe for westernization. This view was formed largely as a result of the colonization of Africa, and the divide-and-rule philosophy of the Europeans. As noted, “The colonialists invented racial categories of the species that were intended to perpetuate the stereotypes that some groups are more superior to others …These classifications of species became paramount during the Europeans’ scramble for and partitioning of Africa. All these were attempts by the colonialists to subjugate African people which enabled them to proceed to fracture African continental unity from then till today” (Boaduo & Gumbi, 2010).[2] Even when they were not in direct power, the complicity of western scholars allowed for the further subjugation of non-white peoples via the pervasiveness of this hierarchy.
Without this scientific basis, racist attitudes would not have been so prevalent. Without this kind of empirical justification, the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864 would not have seen the cruel deaths of hundreds of Cheyenne Indians in Colorado, labeled as “savages” by a system that deemed their skulls smaller, and therefore their peoples inferior. The skulls and bones of the deceased were “defleshed and carefully crated for shipment eastward to the new Army Medical Museum in the nation’s capital.”[3] The Cheyenne Indians, like so many other Native Americans both living and long dead, had skeletons contended for by museums hungry to cash in on the rising popularity of American natural history. Known as the “skull wars,” an epidemic of grave robbing and events similar to that at Sand Creek filled these museums with Indian bones and craniums that were subsequently analyzed and, unsurprisingly, found to indicate Native American subordination. As America expanded westward and these Euro-Indian conflicts became more frequent, so did the economy of the skull market increase. Even a so-called hero of anthropology, German immigrant Franz Boas, who became famous and well-loved for his contributions to the field, participated in the grave-robbing and pedaling of Indian skeletons.[4] To this day, countless Native American remains are unidentified, collecting dust in the back rooms of these museums.
The concept of racial hierarchy translated into indifference for the preservation of archaeological sites and their artifacts up until the twentieth century. Growing public interest in the field meant a growing concern for the protection of these and other historical sites in the interest of conserving United States history. The first ever federal law passed in the interest of American archaeology, as well as the interest of defending Native American remains and material culture, was the Antiquities Act of 1906.[5] The act criminalized the investigation and collection of remains and artifacts on federally-owned land without the proper permits. Furthermore, it required that legally obtained objects be housed and maintained in their respective museums. While important, the act was considered generally weak; a $500 penalty was the extent of its sentence, much like modern litter laws. However, it would lay the foundation for the much stronger National Historic Preservation Act (NHPA) of 1966. Now the basis for much of archaeological excavation today, the NHPA not only tightened protections of historic sites, but mandated that any time federal money or property is involved in construction or other potentially destructive projects, archaeological surveys must be completed in order to determine the historical merit of the plot of land. Known as Section 106, this measure has led to the discovery and excavation of the majority of archaeological sites in North America, and has been instrumental in protecting Native American cultural and burial remains in particular.[6] Despite its success in protecting Native American cultural remains, the NHPA did little to satisfy actual indigenous Americans who took great offense to their ancestors’ burials being desecrated and important ritual artifacts being stolen and housed in museums without their consent. Even though the skull wars had concluded long before the end of the twentieth century, archaeologists still felt entitled to disavow Native American objections to the collection of their relatives’ bones and cultural history, all in the name of science. It is important here to note that these objections were rooted in a much deeper sentiment than that of indignation. In the Native Hawaiian creation story, the stillborn infant Haloanaka was the first burial of all time. From his remains grew food for the people, and the gods who had birthed him produced another son from whom all Native Hawaiians are descended. This story tightly connects the natives, their islands, and their gods, and explains the concept of the iwi (a rough translation of power) that resides in one’s bones. Consequently, burial remains were highly venerated and protected, so much so that ancestor bones in the earth justified their bloodline’s right to that land. This fundamental idea of bones holding massive significance for living peoples is one that permeates the cultures of mainland North America as well. Disturbance of burials not only forfeits land ownership but can also disrupt the spiritual journey one takes in the afterlife.[7] Unfortunately, western science discarded these concerns, vandalizing sacred burials and fracturing the identity of indigenous Americans. In 1990, these actions against Native Americans were deemed human rights violations; the Native American Graves and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) was passed unanimously in order to protect these burial sites and ensure that relevant culture history was returned to its respective contemporary tribe. Museums were required to immediately take inventory of their corresponding Native collections, and tribes were permitted to request the return of artifacts or remains.[8] However, the language of the law created a dangerous ambiguity: In order for items to be repatriated, “cultural affiliation” was required be proven. Given the vast genealogy of Native Americans in the mainland United States alone, associating burial remains with one tribe out of a multitude vying for ownership was a daunting task.
Most commonly, cultural affiliation is proven on a biological relationship between the remains and a contemporary tribe. While NAGPRA encompasses the help of many different disciplines, this particular puzzle falls on biological anthropologists to decipher. Bustard and Schillaci expand on the practical problems of working within the framework of indigenous politics (i.e., while natives are legally divided into tribes they themselves identify as different, unique social units), as well as the difficulties that arise when addressing relevant materials discovered prior to 1990 and after. If those complications weren’t bad enough, other issues arise when individual museums must use information “at hand” in order to determine cultural affiliation; this can lead to wildly different determinations amongst agencies and museums.[9] Clearly, the sentiment of NAGPRA is a difficult goal to achieve given a lack of standardization and careful analysis of specific culture areas.
Without a doubt, the most polarizing and significant illustration of this fact is the case of Kennewick Man. A skeletal superstar, the burial remains of this unknown man have seen their own books and magazine exposés, all asking the same question: where did he come from, and why does he look like a white guy? After the 1996 discovery in Kennewick, Washington, forensic anthropologist James Chatters’ analysis of the bones and the spear point embedded in the hip lead to the determination that this man was “Caucasoid”, i.e. potentially European. Interestingly, radiocarbon analysis placed Kennewick Man as predating European contact by a significant number of years.[10] The media latched onto this story, and the concept of a “white” race of Native Americans that preceded modern indigenous peoples infected the public consciousness.
Scientific racism was not dead. White supremacists advocated that, since the original Native Americans were clearly white, the brown-skinned “imposters” should not be subject to the benefits afforded them such as reservations.[11] Scientists enthusiastically encouraged the repeal of NAGPRA and preceding protections in light of this new discovery. Various “myths of the mound builders” from the nineteenth century resurfaced, positing different origin stories for early European migration into North America. Some of these stories did include non-white population migrations, but the theme of all intended to refute the indigeneity of federally-identified Native Americans.[12] A 1996 lawsuit from eight archaeologists and physical anthropologists against the federal government proposed that the significance of these remains warranted an exemption from NAGPRA, considering he was not actually “Native American” in the legal sense. Eight subsequent years of study and debate culminated in the 2004 case Bonnichsen et al. v. United States et al., in which the court ruled that Kennewick Man did not fall within the language of NAGPRA, and was therefore subject to study by the plaintiffs.[13] Forensic analysis of the remains continued for many years after the fact, until in 2015 DNA analysis concluded once and for all that Kennewick Man was, in fact, related to contemporary Native Americans. His similarity to European bone structure was ascribed to possible morphological variability in whatever population he originally belonged to, but his status as an indigenous American was proven through his mitochondrial DNA and Y chromosomes.[14] At a June 2015 news conference, the five tribes that believed “The Ancient One” belonged to them gave impassioned speeches on his importance to their people: “The DNA
merely confirmed what they had known all along: ‘We are him, he is us,’ as Jim Boyd,
Chairman of the Colville put it. Armand Minthorn of the Umatilla declared ‘We will rebury
Kennewick Man [….]’. He and others explained, sometimes in deeply personal terms, what his reburial would signify to the tribes. We presented the DNA evidence. The tribal members gave it meaning”.[15] Kennewick Man, as prolific as his case was, is only one body out of hundreds of thousands, potentially millions awaiting the same fate. While the United States has made strides towards the better treatment of Native Americans via federal law, there is still a long way to go. Unfortunately, in 2016, this metaphorical distance has never seemed farther away. Dakota Access is a program funded and organized by Energy Transfer Partners, L.P, a private enterprise based in Dallas, Texas. Spanning 1,172 miles, a pipeline has been constructed that runs through North and South Dakota, Iowa, and Illinois.[16] It should not exist. When the project was originally presented, it was found that the pipeline would cross the Missouri river on multiple occasions. Cue the Rivers and Harbors Appropriate Act of 1899: the federal government has the right to regulate and maintain any navigable waterways in the country.[17] An admittedly archaic regulation, the law is still very much applicable, and requires that the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) carry out appropriate surveys and determination of the area. The USACE is a government organization, and therefore federal money was involved in its survey of the DAPL route; thus, Section 106 of the NHPA was invoked. By law, the USACE was legally required to complete archaeological surveys in the interest of the preservation.[18] It was at this point that the indigenous people of the United States encountered a familiar challenge.
Upon seeing the proposal, the USACE did carry out its obligatory survey, but shoddily. First, the impacted area was defined, but only minimally, meaning the entire scope of the pipeline wasn’t considered; second, Section 106 was triggered 209 different times, when it only needed one individual assessment in order for the pipeline to be negated; thus, this invocation of the law to that extent was a massive waste of time and resources.[19] In further compliance with Section 106, the USACE sent out consultation letters to the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe of North Dakota Tribal Historic Preservation Office (THPO) on February 17th. 2015. The THPO immediately responded, and sent two letters after never receiving a response. The local tribe, whose spiritual land and drinking water were at risk, filed a lawsuit against the USACE for their lack of response and overall poor handling of their duties. In April of 2016 the USACE concluded the investigation, claiming that the sites discovered were not of proper historical merit and the environment not subject to harm, and Permit 12 was invoked that July.[20]
The Standing Rock Sioux filed an injunction against the USACE, and the agency was subsequently punished by several governing bodies; however, the damage had already been done. Precious archaeological sites were bulldozed, and construction was underway. The response was massive: Native Americans from numerous tribes united in defiance, protesters blocked the paths of the bulldozers, and the protest garnered overwhelming support on social media. Nationwide rallies have been held in solidarity with the Standing Rock Sioux. As of this paper’s submission, those rallies continue, and the protest persists. Tragically, those destroyed historical sites cannot be mended, and as the construction continues, the retaliation to the protesters becomes more and more violent.[21] Should the project continue to completion, as it very likely will, the tribe and other locals’ drinking water may be at risk, and untold numbers of families laid to rest have had their remains destroyed. Anecdotally, there are those who claim that the pipeline’s positives outweigh the negatives, and that the use of domestic oil has economic and production benefits that the United States sorely needs. Furthermore, the Standing Rock Sioux have no say in what a private company can do to federally-owned land, even if their ancestors are buried there. Arguments in favor of the pipeline’s construction tend to ignore the murky history of the Dakota Access program itself, and frequently undermine the beliefs of Native Americans as well as their well-being. This is nothing new. As history has shown, indigenous Americans have been low on this country’s list of priorities, considering the atrocities incurred against them and the total lack of consideration for the preservation of their cultural history until only a few decades ago; even now, that preservation is inconsistent and half-hearted, given the difficulties of NAGPRA. The stereotype of the “red savage,” facilitated by racist anthropology, is still pervasive today. Natives are often portrayed as infantile, their iconography purely of aesthetic quality, and their beliefs as little more than jokes to the public eye. Native American voices have been muted throughout history, first by European scholars and by now by financially-driven companies. Luckily, with the rise of social media as a legitimate protest platform, those voices are becoming louder and louder.