Archaeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association最新文献

American archaeology is rooted in the behaviors of our predecessors, yet our criticism of those forbearers is often disconnected from the issues of today's practice. Contributors to this volume seek to bridge that gap with a healthy dose of reflection. First, this introduction touches on some issues that are not more fully covered in the chapters that follow, specifically the #MeToo movement and field/conference safety, race, and class inequalities especially the costs of field schools and unpaid internships, and the need for inclusive practices for those who are differently abled. Then we summarize those issues that this volume does focus on, pointing out connections and interrelationships. Three major themes are explored: (1) how the identity of an archaeologist can impact their legacy; (2) how the careers of celebrated “big men” and “big projects” are often misrepresented; and (3) the relationship of archaeology to Black and Indigenous peoples, women, and other marginalized groups, including those who are archaeologists. To conclude, each editor presents a reflection of their own relationship to American archaeology and how that inspired this volume.

Archaeologists who study the Native past have a responsibility to the Native present. But our academic training does little to prepare us for advocacy work. Personal interests, ethics, and the precariousness of employment often dictate what can be done. Doing nothing is easier and safer than speaking out, but idleness reinforces the irrelevancy of archaeology to contemporary social issues. Recalling the advocacy decisions of two archaeological ancestors, Alanson B. Skinner and Warren K. Moorehead, helps us to consider how and when archaeologists should act beyond their own job descriptions. Skinner's attempts to educate the White-public and Moorehead's work to guide governmental policies were not flawless. But their willingness to do something helps us reconsider if we, as individual archaeologists, are doing enough. First and foremost, archaeologists should ensure that their institutions have complied with the spirit of the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, not just the letter of the law. We should also ensure that we take opportunities to connect the Native past to the Indigenous present, in ways that go beyond land acknowledgements. Archaeologists can be better allies, accomplices, and co-conspirators.

Large-scale excavations in the first half of the twentieth century conducted by Glenn A. Black at Angel Mounds were viewed as moving archaeology away from its antiquarian roots toward legitimate scientific practice. Although this transformation led to innovative field methods, amassed collections of unprecedented size and depth, and created foundational archaeological programs and knowledge, the past and the peoples who occupied it became increasingly objectified and marginalized. How did archaeological practice on such an expansive scale remove from history the people whose heritage is memorialized at a national historic landmark? And how has this history impacted archaeological practice today? To address these questions, I draw on personal letters and published accounts for insights into the interests and problematic aspects of Black's archaeological practices before turning to a consideration of some present-day continuities, challenges, and ways forward. The issues and biases revealed in the case of Black's early 20^th century archaeological praxis are not unique for the time. Nonetheless, underlying problems of objectification and racism challenge us to not only confront legacy biases and the harm they have caused, but to work toward ethical ways to use such collections now and in the future.

While work has been done to uncover the roles of female archaeologists who supported their husband's careers with little acknowledgment or support, less work has been done to explore the diversity of hidden women's labor that helped support American archaeology during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (Browman 2013; White et al. 1999). Institutions such as Harvard's Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology and the Robert S. Peabody Institute of Archaeology benefitted early on from countless female staff, including clerks, secretaries, and librarians. This paper seeks to make connections between women's labor in archaeology in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century and adjunct labor in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century.

Arthur Caswell Parker (1881–1955) was one of the first Indigenous archaeologists. As a Seneca-descended scientist from the Cattaraugus Indian Reservation, his cultural background aided with collaboration and research. Many archaeologists uncritically use Parker as an example of a Native archaeologist, anthropologist, and ethnographer. However, his career started at a time when the field of archaeology was still in its infancy, when practices now considered unethical were commonplace. Parker excavated and sold human burials, published records of sacred ceremonies, and provided images of False Face Masks and Snow Snakes. Yet, an examination of his personal correspondence illustrates both a concern for archaeological practice as well as efforts to prevent sensitive cultural aspects from being released to the wider, non-Native public. These seemingly contradictory stances illustrate that Parker's practice was more nuanced than previously believed. Parker's writings and actions indicate a concern for the situation of the Seneca people and attempts to do what he thought best for others (even if they disagreed). Despite all this, the simplistic assumption that Parker, as an Indigenous archaeologist, always acted in the best interest of his people continues to influence how Euro-Americans perceive how archaeology should be done. This belief must be interrogated in order that we may move archaeology forward to be a more respectful and equitable practice.