[English]
In 1897, some 20,000 people paid a quarter
each to gawk at six living, breathing Inuit who
had just arrived in New York Harbor.
They’d been brought from Greenland by
explorer Robert E. Peary.
Anthropologist Franz Boas had suggested
inviting a single Inuk back to New York for the
winter, to collect “information of the greatest
scientific importance.”
But for reasons known only to Peary, he
brought back six.
Plus barrels full of bones stolen from Inuit
graves.
Among the living was a young boy named
Minik, whose life – along with others’ –
highlights the fraught relationship between
Native peoples and Western anthropologists.
Hi, I’m Che Jim, and welcome to Crash Course
Native American History.
[THEME MUSIC]
Anthropology is the study of what it means to
be human — which involves a lot!
Everything from how people use language, to
what they eat, to their genetics.
Archaeology, a subfield of anthropology, has to
do with understanding past humans,
by studying what they left behind: old buildings,
tools, even human remains.
Those are pretty impressive goals —
understand humanity, past and present!
But anthropology and archaeology grew from
twisted colonial roots:
at first, from Europeans trying to understand
the Indigenous peoples in the places they’d
taken over.
Often positioning themselves as objective
observers,
and the Native folks as inhuman specimens.
And often, taking Native land went
hand-in-hand with taking Native bodies.
And, I want to let you know now, we’re about to
talk about some dark and heavy history.
It’s difficult to know the exact numbers, but
between the 1780s and the 1970s,
it’s estimated that people in the U.S. dug up
anywhere from 600,000 to over 1 million Native
graves.
Even some of America’s founding fathers got in
on it.
Sometime around 1780, Thomas Jefferson
unearthed a Native burial mound near his
home in Virginia.
He was curious about who built it, but not
curious enough to ask the Native folks he’d
seen paying respects.
Jefferson estimated there “might have been a
thousand skeletons” buried there.
That’s great, Tom.
By the 19th century, sleuthing out Native graves
in the name of “science” was big business.
The going rate for a skull was estimated to be 3
to 5 dollars,
or about 99 to 165 dollars in today's money.
American museums were vying to grow their
collections of bones and their reputations as
Serious Places of Science.
Many genuinely believed that by taking artifacts
– including human remains –
from Native communities, they were helping
preserve the history of the people who would soon
be gone forever.
Early museums even set up displays of Native
bodies alongside dinosaur fossils and those of
other extinct species.
[record scratch]
Hello? Not extinct! Still here!
Often, digging up Native graves wasn’t even
about research, or furthering the study of
humanity.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries,
Americans of all ages were into collecting
Native artifacts and remains for fun.
Country doctors, philanthropic society ladies,
and wealthy collectors – even the Boy Scouts
joined in.
I didn’t know that there was a merit badge
for grave robbing.
Some early anthropologists and other scientists
wanted to get their hands on Native remains to
measure skulls,
looking to prove bogus claims of white
superiority.
Insecure much?
Czech anthropologist Aleš Hrdlička, was among
them.
He dug up and stole the remains of 800 Koniag
people, among others.
By the time he died in 1943, he had almost
20,000 skulls in his possession.
And William McGee, the first president of the
American Anthropological Association,
wrote in 1901 that Native Americans were, quote,
“strikingly close to sub-human species in every
aspect.”
He also dropped out of school at 14 so, let that
be a lesson…stay in school kids.
Even anthropologist Franz Boas
— who argued that no culture or group of
people is better than another —
felt digging up Native remains was necessary to
uncover what humans had in common.
In 1888, he wrote in his diary:
“It is most unpleasant work to steal bones from
a grave but [...] someone has to do it.”
I’d argue that, in fact, someone does not have
to do it, Franz.
Which brings us back to Minik.
Because all these biases about Native
Americans didn’t just affect how
anthropologists treated Native ancestors.
It also affected how they treated living people.
Minik and the other Inuit were brought to live
in the basement of New York’s Museum of
Natural History —
where they were studied and ogled by curious
crowds.
But four of them soon contracted tuberculosis
and passed away –
including Minik’s father, Qisuk.
The last remaining adult was returned to the
Arctic, leaving only Minik in New York.
A funeral for Qisuk was
held in the museum’s garden.
But the “body” on display was a fake.
In reality, all of the bodies had been dissected,
and kept at the museum,
where Hrdlička—the terrifying one from
earlier—studied and wrote articles about them.
Minik spent the rest of his life petitioning the
museum to return the remains of his father and
the other Inuit whose bones had been secretly
stolen.
He even sought the help of President Theodore
Roosevelt, but it didn’t work.
The museum denied him again and again.
And when Minik died during the 1918 flu
pandemic,
his father’s remains were still in the
museum’s collection.
And what’s especially haunting is that Minik’s
story wasn’t an anomaly.
The Smithsonian alone still holds 18,500
ancestral remains,
many of them collected by Hrdlička.
So for almost 190 years, Native people were
treated as objects to be displayed and studied.
Many early anthropologists felt they needed to
“salvage” knowledge of Native cultures before
colonization destroyed them altogether.
And for those of you who don’t speak colonizer,
“salvage” roughly means to “steal.”
[jaunty music]
Carl: Great piece for the museum. Ooh! Look at
this! How exotic!
Che: NOT. TODAY. CARL!
Grave robbing. What a legacy.
But Native communities were already keepers
of their own cultures.
And even when anthropologists were collecting
stories, not bones,
they didn’t always treat this as a partnership
with Native people.
Vernon Finley, director of the Kootenai Culture
Committee,
recalls his grandfather describing how
anthropologists rarely interpreted Elders’
stories correctly or let Elders know what they’d
do with those stories.
Back then, anthropologists loved to work on a
“just trust us” basis that they maybe hadn’t earned.
And of course, there were all those thousands
of ancestors’ remains.
But that started to change in the late 1960s
with the arrival of groups like the American
Indian Movement, or AIM,
a Native-led civil rights coalition which
expressed widespread feelings of anger at the
exploitation of Native people.
Members of AIM staged protests at excavation
sites and roadside attractions where ancestral
remains were still on display.
And believe me, back then, those were everywhere.
This country is so haunted.
Thanks in part to pressure from Indigenous
activists like these,
the law slowly began to change, starting with
the National Historic Preservation Act in 1966,
and the Archaeological Resources and
Protection Act in 1979.
Both laws helped establish more protections for
Native archaeological sites,
and began to shift the control of those sites
back to Native peoples.
Then in 1990 came a super significant piece of
legislation:
the Native American Graves Protection and
Repatriation Act, or NAGPRA.
NAGPRA. Nag-pruh.
NAGPRA aimed to help the return both artifacts
and ancestral remains to the rightful tribe upon request.
The museums that held those materials had to
consult with tribes about them,
and the law created a process for how federal
agencies should handle any remains or
materials found in the future.
Finally, no more rogue scientists on the loose.
But more than 30 years since NAGPRA was passed,
between 300,000 and 600,000 remains are still
held in museums across the country.
And in part, that’s because this system is far
from perfect.
For one, it only applies to institutions that have
accepted federal funding.
Also, sometimes it’s hard to determine exactly
which tribe human remains or artifacts came from,
which can – and has– been used as an excuse
for holding onto these objects.
But when it comes to more just, respectful
anthropology, NAGPRA isn’t the end of the line.
In the 1970s, a collaboration between
archaeologists and the Makah Tribe in the
Pacific Northwest proved that respectful
excavations could be successful.
After a storm exposed an ancient whaling village,
the Makah brought in archaeologists who
worked for 11 years to excavate thousands of
wooden artifacts, baskets, animal bones, and
longhouses.
By combining the Tribe’s oral histories of a
“great mudslide” with the scientists’ findings
that the artifacts were about 500 years old,
they were able to create a more complete
picture of the area’s history.
The Makah retained all 55,000 unearthed
artifacts as a condition of the dig,
which the Tribe now curates at the Makah
Cultural and Research Center.
Which, completely unrelated, is super close to
where the Twilight movie takes place.
#TeamJacob! We Natives gotta stick
together.
And today, more and more Indigenous people
are changing how research gets done through
decolonized archaeology and anthropology,
which are described as “with, for, and by
Indigenous people.”
This research values Native sovereignty,
knowledge, and perspectives and involves
collaborating using tribal members’ own
interpretations.
And above all, it keeps Native peoples in charge
of managing their own heritage.
And if all of that sounds like the opposite of
early archaeology and anthropology,
that’s because it is.
In fact, when Indigenous archaeology first
began in the 1990s,
some Native Americans saw it as an oxymoron.
How could an Indigenous person participate in
a field that's caused so much harm to their people?
But some saw it as a way to truly control our
cultural resources, and make it much more
difficult for prejudiced ideas about Native
Americans to spread.
Linda Tuhiwai Smith, author of a book on how
to decolonize research, explained it like this:
“When Indigenous peoples become the
researchers and not merely the researched,
the activity of research is transformed.”
I’ll leave you with this. In 2021, the American
Anthropological Association issued an apology
for all of the harm that it's done historically.
And though it didn’t happen in Minik’s lifetime,
thanks to the tireless work of others like him,
his father’s body was eventually returned to his
ancestral homeland in 1993.
Archaeology and anthropology started as fields
that both accidentally and purposefully harmed
Indigenous peoples—
even after they were dead.
And while strides have been made in recent
years, largely as a result of dedicated
Indigenous activists,
there’s still a long way to go.
But Indigenous anthropologists are working to
make the field more just –
not only for the people of the past, but for the
future as well.
In our next episode, we’ll continue our
discussion about Indigenous science when we
talk about ways of knowing the world.
And I will see you then.
Thanks for watching this episode of Crash
Course Native American History which was
filmed at our studio in Indianapolis, Indiana and
was made with the help of all these nice people.
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