...and why are we in this handbasket?

Although I missed last month, I am participating in the final month of Doug's Archaeology's blog carnival. And, if you have not yet gone to Doug's archaeology, click this link here and go there immediately.


As per Doug's instruction: "The last question is where are you/we going with blogging or would you it like to go?"


I am really not sure about how to answer this question.


As I noted in an earlier post, I began my blog for multiple reasons, including the desire to tell stories about what archaeology is like, as well as to educate readers regarding various aspects of archaeology. In the years since then, the blog has served these purposes, and has also served as a platform for me to spout off about whatever topic is bothering me or things that I think are cool.


In the last year and a half, I have written very little, owing to work and family obligations. And in that time I have considered the question of whether or not I will continue blogging, and, if I do, what my goals will be.


I would like to continue, but I don't know how realistic that is. As my daughter gets older, she will require less constant one-on-one attention, which may free up some of my time. However, I am taking on more and more responsibilities at work, which take up more of my time. So, in the end, I don't know if I will have time to return to blogging on a regular basis. I hope to, but I don't know if I will.


If I do return, however, I would like to do three things:


1. Interact more with other archaeology bloggers. I feel as if I tended to be isolated, typing away in my own little corner of the internet with no real connection to other bloggers. But, of course, it doesn't have to be this way, and I can engage in various types of social blog activity (more blog carnivals, link-swaps, guest posts, etc.).


2. Focus. As my regular readers know, I tend to have a scattershot approach to blogging, writing about whatever odd thing happens to strike me as interesting at any given point in time. However, I would like to focus more on archaeology in general and CRM in particular. I would especially like to find ways to discuss CRM laws and regulations that move away from dry descriptions and gets into more entertaining narratives.


3. Enjoy my writing. I often enjoyed writing blog entries, but it was also sometimes stressful. For some time, I put a lot of pressure on myself to post three entries a week, and this meant that I frequently sweated as I tried to come up with things to write about. I would like to find that happy medium by which I can write routinely, but be comfortable on those occasions when I don't have anything about which to write.



I would also like to see the archaeology blogger community do two things:


1. Become a resource for the media. When the media want to speak with an archaeologist, they contact the local museum or university, and as such always get the perspective of tenured (or occasionally post-doc) academic archaeologists. The archaeological blogging community, however, contains undergraduate and graduate students, CRM archaeologists, faculty and museum staff, agency archaeologists, and field technicians. We're a much more representative sample of archaeology, and if we make ourselves well known, we can provide more and different perspectives to the media.


2. On a related note - provide an archaeological perspective on events. Earlier this week, the IPCC released it's report on global climate change, with a focus on adaptation. This has, understandably, generated a lot of media interest in how humans can adapt and maintain our current industrial civilization, and has also brought in those who are certain that our civilization will collapse. Archaeologists have a unique perspective regarding how humans have adapted to climatic and social changes, and we can help people understand what is going to happen (for example, my own grad school research into Native Californian adaptations to environmental change makes me think that we aren't staring down a Mad Max future if we don't deal successfully with the climate, but probably a reorganization of people at a more local level - but someone who specializes in Mayan archaeology might read this situation a different way).


There are many stories surrounding issues of ecology, politics, and society that could benefit from the perspective of archaeologists. Blogs are one of the many places where we can provide that perspective.



So, there you go, that's where I would like to see us headed.

Prehistoric, Historic, and Arbitrary Distinctions

If you look at a California Department of Parks and Recreation Form 523 Primary (see it here), the one required for recording archaeological sites in California, you are giving three options for the site's age: Prehistoric, Historic, and Both. This seems straightforward - if the site pre-dates the introduction of written records (literally predates recorded history) then it is prehistoric, so everything prior to Europeans showing up; if the site post-dates the introduction of written records, then it is historic; if the site has elements from both before and after the introduction of written records, it is both.

Simple, right?

Of course not.

I'm not going to wade into the debate about whether or not oral traditions should be considered history. It's a valid line of debate to a point, but not what I'm interested in here. What I am interested in is what we use to make the distinction between prehistoric and historic sites, why the three check boxes aren't maybe the best way to reflect the archaeological record, and what's they ultimately mean.

For starters, when we record a site, the way that we identify which of the three boxes to check is be evaluating what materials are present within the site. If it is filled with flaked stone tools, ground stone tools, and no evidence of metal, glass, or European-style tools or structures, it gets labelled "prehistoric"; if it contains things such as milled wood, metal, glass, paper, etc, then we label it "historic" (and, obviously, if it contains elements from both categories, then we label it "both").

Here's the problem: The prehistoric/historic dividing line in California (and much of the world, in fact) is murky at best, and nonexistent at worse. The introduction of written records to California came with the Europeans. The problem, of course, is determining when you should place this. Should it be with the early voyages in the 1540s? Should it be with the founding of the missions in the 1760s through the 1820s? Should it be with the establishment of Euro-American settlements in even the more remote parts of the state in the 1890s and 1910s?

The practice that we have been in is to ignore all of these potential dates and look insteadm as described above, just at what's present in the site. The problem here is that this results in sites that were occupied by people well-documented in the historical record being labelled "prehistoric", which is just plain factually incorrect. There are other, more correct, labels available: ethnohistoric, protohistoric, etc. All of which are in active use in research archaeology, but not available as a check box on the documents that we are required to use.

What's more, there's a tendency to associate "prehistoric" sites with Native Americans, and "historic" sites with everyone else (Euro-Americans, African-Americans, Asian-Americans, etc.). But this really isn't correct, either, as Native Americans did adopt many of the materials from the newly-arrived groups, and so it is not uncommon to find a Native American site from the late 19th or early 20th century that is comprised of a wood-frame house and glass and metal detritus, similar to the non-Native homes of the day. There would be differences in the material patterning of the site, just as there are differences between the sites of Italian immigrants vs. German immigrants, but it would still end up being given the "Historic" label (maybe a "both" label if things such as ground stone were found on-site, but the ground stone would often be assumed to have pre-dated the rest of the material, even thought it didn't necessarily), and unless there was a clear record that the home belonged to a Native American, there would typically be little effort made to determine to whom it belonged.

Up to this point, this has probably all seemed like pointless ranting about something that is unimportant. So, I'll try to explain why this actually does matter.

Under current practice and regulations, Native Americans have a more significant role when a "prehistoric" site is found than when a "historic" site is found. The reasoning seems pretty clear - the prehistoric site belongs to their cultural lineage, whereas the historic site is seen as belonging to the post-European cultural lineage. But the problem is that, as describe dabove, many historic sites are Native American sites, and so it seems rather bizarrely inconsistent to only consult with them on prehistoric sites when they may have relevant information on historic sites as well.

Now, many of my colleagues will point out that sufficient background research will identify historic-era sites that are the homes of Native American individuals and families. This is generally true, but because of the nature of late 19th/early 20th century racial politics, it's not uncommon for ownership information or ethnicity identification to not be readily apparent in this historic record.

The reality is that the division of prehistoric and historic, while it annoys my inner fact-checker, does work the majority of the time. But that doesn't stop me from wondering how often we get it wrong, or when it is going to bite some (or maybe all) of us in the ass.

Information Centers and Confidential Information

Throughout the U.S., there are clearinghouses that store information on the known archaeological sites within each given state. The name and organization of these clearinghouses varies from state to state, but in California they are known collectively as the California Historic Resources Information System (CHRIS) and consist of regional offices that house the site records for the surrounding area.

Archaeological site location information is considered sensitive, as there is a long tradition of people looting sites. As a result, in order to get information from the clearinghouses, you typically have to show that you are either a legitimate and responsible archaeologist or the owner of the land on which a site is located, and you have to sign a confidentiality agreement. However, this creates a tension, as the rationale behind most of the laws protecting sites is that the sites are of importance to the people of the United States. So, we preserve them based on the premise that they are important to the people from whom we hide their locations.

This also makes it a bit of a pain to gather information on known sites within a given area. So, if you happen to be an archaeologist with a project in, say, northern San Luis Obispo County, you need to go through the process of having a record search done at the CHRIS information center in Santa Barbara, complete with confidentiality agreements, making appointments (or waiting for the info center personnel to have a chance to do the search for you), and a bit of a hassle.

To this end, many of the information centers around the country have been working to create digital archives of their holdings in order to free up space and make searches easier. This has resulted in a discussion within the archaeological community regarding whether or not to make this information available online.

The upside to online searches is that they would allow an archaeologist to get results within days or even hours, rather than the weeks or months that it currently takes. It would also reduce the overall costs of running the info centers (less workspace needed), as well as reduce the inconvenience to our clients when we are waiting for search results.

The downside is that site location information would be readily available to those who would like nothing better than to loot sites, destroying them in an effort to get collectable or sellable artifacts out of them. Certainly, websites can be password-protected, but these passwords only provide so much safety, and are routinely bypassed by those with sufficient knowledge - just ask anyone who runs a membership-driven website.

A few years back, I attended a session at the Society for American Archaeology annual conference on the issue of improving access and performance of systems such as CHRIS. One of the attendees, a representative of the the state historic preservation officer for one of the southern states (I don't recall which one) stated that we should simply put everything online, and that we are worrying too much about what "one guy with a shovel" can do.

But the problem is that "one guy with a shovel" can do alot of damage - most of the historic archaeological sites that I saw while working around Taft last year were heavily looted and disturbed, and I have been present on more than a few prehistoric sites where looters have nearly destroyed the entire site. It gets worse when you consider that, very often, we aren't even dealing with "one guy with a shovel", but rather with groups of people with shovels, backhoes, and (in at least one case that I know of) heavier equipment such as bulldozers. It bothers me that we keep site location information secret, but it bothers me even more that once a site's location becomes widely known said site becomes a magnet for looters who will use whatever equipment they can get their hands on to pull things out for either their personal collections or for sale.

It's a thorny issue - how do we maintain public communication while hiding some of the most basic information about a site - and one to which I don't have a solution. Until one is found, though, I don't see any alternative but to keep location information confidential.

Who's My Client Anyway? Or, More Weird Tensions in My Job.

One of the weird things about my industry that often strikes me as weird, if not possibly hazardous, is the role that our clients play in any given project.

Sometimes we are contracted by a regulatory agency, but the majority of the time we are contracted by the proponents of a project. So, for example, say that Amalgamated Paverific wants to build a new parking lot. They will apply to the appropriate agencies for the permits to build the lot. The agencies will apply their regulations as appropriate, and determine the permit conditions, which may include that the project proponent perform environmental studies to determine the impact of construction. For this illustration, let's assume that Amalgamated Paverific has to apply to a federal agency, let's say the Federal Office of Grooviness (FOG), and the FOG determines that the proposed parking lot is to be built in an area that is known for alot of archaeological sites, perhaps the homeland of the Whatchagonnadotonites. So, FOG determines that an archaeological study will be necessary to evaluate the possibility that archaeological sites will be disturbed by construction.

So, does the FOG, being groovy and all, contract with my archaeology company, Armstrong Archaeological Resources iDentification Verification Assessment Recovery and Knowledge generation (AARDVARK)? No, they don't. They direct Amalgamated Paverific to find a consultant, and they, in turn, find us. So, I am now contracted to the entity that actually stands to gain something if there is nothing found during the archaeological study.

This creates an obvious tension.

Now, to be fair and honest, all of AARDVARK's archaeologists are Registered Professional Archaeologists, meaning that they meet certain minimum qualifications and have signed on to a statement of ethics that precludes taking bribes or denying results to favor a client. I can tell you from experience that the vast majority of archaeologists take these codes of ethics very seriously, and most of us became archaeologists because of a love for archaeology and not to make money (if we wanted to make money, we would have stayed FAR away from archaeology). So, violations of the code of ethics are rare.

But, nonetheless, there is a definite reason why people would see a conflict of interests even if it doesn't play out.

Also, FOG doesn't bow out completely. They have agency archaeologists who review our work, approve our research designs, review our reports, and maintain the right to visit us int he field to check up on us. So, we are not entirely unsupervised. Nonetheless, they can't be there all of the time, and it is therefore difficult for them to ensure honesty at all times, and they rely on their relationships with us (as well as the threat of future refusals of work) to keep us in line.

So, again, there is reason to be concerned about this arrangement.

I want to emphasize, again, that violations of ethics in order to curry favor with or benefit a client are extremely rare. I am not claiming that the sky is falling, it certainly is not. However, I know of a handful of archaeologists who are on the take, and I know that the current arrangement benefits them.

This is an uncomfortable tension. I have had more than one client take the attitude that I am their consultant and therefore should only be producing things that benefit them, truth and professional ethics be damned. I have always worked through these situations with my code of ethics and my conscience intact, as do the majority of my colleagues.

The alternative would seem to be either for the agencies to have enough archaeologists on staff to do all of this work themselves, or else to contract directly with us. This presents its own problems, however, both economic and political (really, can you see a bill requiring this passing through Congress? Neither can I).

I don't know the solution, but it is a potential source of problems, even if it has caused relatively few so far. I think that, perhaps, part of the solution is simply letting people in on these facts, as I am doing here.