Introduction

Over the last few decades, there has been an increased acceptance of rights over cultural heritage within the field of archaeology, as alternative views are incorporated into research design and researchers relinquish sole custody of the archaeological record. However, this inclusion has brought about the intersection between vastly different opinions regarding the ethical treatment of the dead. What constitutes appropriate treatment of human remains varies from culture to culture, and the sensitivities surrounding their treatment often create ethical dilemmas and conflicts between stakeholders, which are less commonly found in other areas of archaeological study.

Definition

Ethics can be defined as a system of moral values that specify a particular code of conduct, often defining “right” and “wrong” (Goldstein and Kintigh 1990: 585; Mays 2010: 331, 347). However, as Goldstein and Kintigh state, ethical principles are “culturally constructed” and will vastly differ depending on the cultural group defining such principles (1990: 586; Sellevold 2010: 141).

Historical Background

The practice of collecting human remains for scientific pursuits can trace its roots back to the third century B.C. in Ancient Greece, where the bodies of condemned criminals were obtained for systematic dissections for anatomical knowledge (Walker 2008: 5; Von Staden 1992: 223). Such activities were discouraged in the following centuries due to religious beliefs regarding the body and the afterlife; however, during the Renaissance, the prevalence of anatomical studies began to increase as the cadaver’s medical value was recognized (Walker 2008: 5; Lambert 2012: 18). The creation of “curio cabinets” containing human remains became a popular hobby among the wealthy, specifically those interested in anatomy and scientific examination (Walker 2008: 10). The need for “specimens” soon led to grave robbing, of primarily underprivileged and disadvantaged individuals, throughout the United States, Britain, and many other countries.

During the 1700s, scientific studies began to focus on human diversity and population differences, which led to the large scale collection of skeletal remains. Specifically, crania were sought for phrenology and racial classification studies, which focused on the idea of an evolutionary hierarchy and that racial intellect was dependent on cranial capacity and measurement (Dickerson and Ceeney 2014: 90; Walker 2008: 8; Lambert 2012: 19). Throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, vast collections of skeletal remains were stolen and collected from battlefields, cemeteries, and archaeological excavations as large, newly founded museums sought to augment their collections and to continue research on human remains (Walker 2008: 6). Throughout Europe, as archaeology became an established discipline, new interpretations based on racial segregation further exacerbated views of cultural division such as “primitive” versus “civilized” (Holand and Somerseth 2010: 25).

During the last few decades, archaeologists have moved away from craniometry and studies on human variation to focusing on the way environmental and cultural conditions factor into human development (Martin et al. 2013: 31). Such topics include nutrition, disease, trauma, and violence (Martin et al. 2013: 31). New methodologies such as DNA and stable isotope analyses have allowed for in-depth studies on human adaptation and population health; however, until recently, the majority of these research studies on indigenous human remains have failed to incorporate and recognize external perspectives from native stakeholders, creating contention and conflict with local communities.

Key Issues/Current Debates

A large portion of archaeological collections containing human remains in museums across the globe are a product of colonial pursuits, racist ideology, and Western imperialism. Similarly, research to date has primarily focused on Western views rather than incorporating community-based, participatory research. Disagreements on the treatment of human remains have arisen between researchers and Indigenous communities as their culturally constructed sets of ethics conflict (Goldstein and Kintigh 1990: 586; Larsen and Walker 2005: 118; Scarre 2013: 673).

Traditionally, human remains have been viewed by the scientific community as objects of research with potential for understanding the overall history of the human species (Larsen and Walker 2005: 111, 113; Walker 2008: 13). They are considered to be a vital resource of mortuary information, and those working with skeletal remains often consider it their ethical responsibility to obtain as much data as possible from those remains in order to contribute to the overall archaeological record (Klesert and Powell 1993: 350; Sellevold 2010: 141).

In contrast, many Indigenous communities view continued excavation, retention, and study of human remains as disrespectful and highly offensive (Henderson 2009: 55). The dichotomy is further exacerbated by the overwhelming emphasis on research by Western science as opposed to the incorporation of native participation or ideas. Many native scholars have been highly critical of archaeologists, viewing their work as self-serving, racist, exclusionary, and lacking any real meaning to contemporary populations (Henderson 2009: 55; Walker 2008: 13; Zuckerman et al. 2014: 515). For many, the return of ancestral remains recognizes the wrongs suffered during colonialism and promotes the healing of native communities (Henderson 2009: 57; Mays 2010: 332).

Walker (2008) outlines three ethical principles which should be utilized when working with human remains: (1) human remains should be treated with dignity and respect, (2) descendants should have the authority to control the disposition of the remains of their relatives, and (3) owing to the importance for understanding the history of our species, the preservation of archaeological collections of human remains is an ethical imperative. While these principles can be applied to the overall treatment of human remains from any collection or country and are primarily from a bioarchaeologist’s viewpoint, Walker recognizes there are intrinsic problems with such ethics, for example, when the preservation ethic conflicts with relinquishing control to the descendants (2008: 20). Additionally, the term “respect” is culturally defined and varies globally. Some archaeologists may maintain that they are being respectful of the dead, but that definition of respect is often not the same as that of the descendants of the remains.

There may also be situations where there is no surviving population of descendants who can provide a voice for the deceased or where political circumstances have silenced their voice. Zuckerman et al. (2014) propose the concept of relational ethics for working with the deceased, specifically those from disadvantaged or oppressed populations. This follows an idea of “ethics of social responsibility” where the human remains are not considered as specimens of information, but active participants in their storytelling and where the researcher acknowledges the descendants’ connection with the deceased (517). Additionally, such an approach would maintain that agency and value be attributed back to the remains and stories of oppression and power could be told, giving a voice to those who were silenced and who would otherwise be obscured from record, such as in forensic cases or in situations of genocide or war (517–518).

International Ethics and the Repatriation Movement

The strong response to the curation and study of human remains has been the cry for repatriation and reburial by indigenous parties, largely in countries such as the United States, Australia, and Canada, where European colonialism displaced and marginalized native communities and illicitly appropriated indigenous human remains (Bienkowski and Coleman 2013: 83; Henderson 2009: 56; Mays 2010: 333; Lambert 2012: 25). While often considered a more recent movement within archaeology, discussions of the ethical treatment of human remains began as early as the 1960s (see “Repatriation Acts: Before NAGPRA”). The establishment of the American Indian Movement and intense activism by Native Americans in both the United States and Canada brought a focus on scientific colonialism, and tribal groups began lobbying for the return of their ancestors and cultural items in an effort to regain control over their cultural history (Ferguson 1996: 68; Zimmerman 2012: 99). In 1976, the first state reburial law was passed in Iowa in response to the unequal treatment of an inadvertent discovery in 1971 where Euroamerican remains discovered were reburied without study and the Native American skeletons were sent to the local museum for research purposes (Zimmerman 2005: 61; 2014: 2).

Throughout the 1980s, issues regarding reburial began to be globally discussed and the ethics of studying human remains became under scrutiny (Webb 1987: 296). Numerous archaeologists began recognizing indigenous communities’ right to control their heritage and arguing for the incorporation of community-based research with the goal of collaborative assessment and mutual understanding (Pardoe 1990: 208). Indigenous considerations needed to be placed at the same level as scientific enquiry and for this to be done, archaeologists needed to concede not only ownership of the remains but embrace multiple perspectives of the archaeological record (Pardoe 1990: 222).

In 1986, the first meeting of the World Archaeological Congress (WAC) was held in Southampton, England. One major point at this international conference was the inclusion of indigenous and Third World peoples – without their representation, archaeology would fail to be considered truly world-wide (Zimmerman 1994: 5). Three years later, a special topic WAC Inter-congress was held in Vermillion, South Dakota, titled “Archaeological Ethics and the Treatment of the Dead.” During this conference, the Vermillion Accord on Human Remains was adopted, outlining six principles of respect for both indigenous and scientific viewpoints (http://worldarch.org/code-of-ethics/). In 1990, WAC passed the First Code of Ethics in Barquesimeto, Venezuela, recognizing the importance of considering indigenous communities as equal research partners and recognizing their interest in preserving and investigating their own heritage (Zimmerman 2005: 64).

After several decades of lobbying by Native American communities, advocacy by numerous archaeologists, and the enactment of nearly 40 state repatriation laws, the United States Congress passed the National Museum of the American Indian Act in 1989 and the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) in 1990. Addressing only the collections housed within the Smithsonian, the NMAI Act was designed to set forth procedures for repatriation of Native American human remains and cultural items. For all other institutions receiving federal funding, NAGPRA created a similar mechanism whereby Native American tribes and Native Hawaiian organizations may claim and receive ancestral remains, funerary objects, sacred objects, and items of cultural patrimony through repatriation. It is an important piece of human rights legislation which addresses the institutional treatment of Native American remains and the lack of consideration for their beliefs (DeWitte 2015: 12). NAGPRA covers three main topics: (1) the inadvertent discovery of Native American, Native Alaskan, or Native Hawaiian remains on federal or tribal lands; (2) trafficking of Native American or Native Hawaiian remains; and (3) a requirement that federal agencies and institutions or museums receiving federal funding or having any other type of federal involvement assemble Inventories and summaries of their collections for publication in the Federal Register (Mays 2010: 340).

In 1991, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples was established in Canada which promoted the voluntary return of remains to appropriate First Nations communities (Mays 2010: 335). Ethical guidelines as developed in the Canadian Archaeological Association’s 1996 Statement of Principles for Ethical Conduct Pertaining to Aboriginal Peoples encourage consultation with indigenous communities on matters relating to heritage, excavation, and human remains (Hanna 2003: 242). Despite these efforts, there is no federal law in Canada which mandates the return of First Nations ancestors or requires repatriation. Henderson (2009: 58) states that the absence of such a law encourages the dismissal and disregard for First Nations perspectives. However, several provinces have heritage statutes that address treatment of human remains. These statues include mandates for protecting inadvertent discoveries of human remains and contacting the nearest First Nations communities once discoveries have been determined to be archaeological (Parks Canada, https://www.pc.gc.ca/en/docs/r/pfa-fap/sec7/decouv_discov3).

In 2006, the Tamaki Makau-rau Accord on the Display of Human Remains and Sacred Objects was adopted by the World Archaeological Congress (see “Tamaki Makau-Rau Accord on the Display of Human Remains and Sacred Objects (2005)”). Similar to the Vermillion Accord on Human Remains, these six principles discuss the culturally appropriate display of human remains, permissions which should be acquired from indigenous communities prior to research, and frequent consultation between parties to ensure transparency and accurate communication (http://worldarch.org/code-of-ethics/).

The General Assembly of the United Nations adopted the Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples in 2007, outlining both the collective rights of indigenous peoples and the rights of individuals (United Nations General Assembly 2007). Specifically, Articles 11 and 12 focus on the rights of indigenous communities to protect and develop all manifestations of their culture and control ceremonial objects and human remains for spiritual use and reburial (United Nations General Assembly 2007, Article 11 (1), Article 12 (1). Although this document has no legal enforcement, it reflects the commitment by the international signatories to promote and recognize indigenous parties’ right to control and maintain their own cultural heritage.

In 2018, the Department of Arts and Culture within the Western Cape Government of South Africa released the Draft National Policy on the Repatriation and Restitution of Human Remains and Heritage Objects. This document was released in response to frequent requests made to the Government to repatriate the remains of South Africa individuals from South African and international museums (Draft National Policy on the Repatriation and Restitution of Human Remains and Heritage Objects, 2018). It discusses the challenging nature of repatriation and reburial, the management of skeletal remains and cultural items in South African museums, and procedures for making claims (https://www.westerncape.gov.za/assets/departments/cultural-affairs-sport/draft_national_policy_on_the_repatriation_and_restitution_of_human_remains_and_heritage_objects.pdf).

In 2007, the National Committee for Evaluation of Research Involving Human Remains was established in Norway. This was in response to a repatriation dispute between the living Sámi descendants, who asked for return for reburial of their ancestors’ skeletal remains curated by University of Oslo’s Department of Anatomy (Sellevold 2010: 140). The task of this committee is to consider and deliberate on the ethical considerations for research proposals involving human remains, particularly those of Sámi ancestors (Holand and Somerseth 2010: 21). Similar discussions have taken place in Sweden, where the repatriation and reburial of Sámi ancestors from Swedish museums is being advocated for by Sámi communities and supported by the Swedish Sámi Parliament (Nilsson Stutz 2007: 1).

For indigenous populations in Australia, the deceased are considered living parts of the community and their reburial is an intrinsic part of spiritual wellness and the health of the relationship between the dead and their descendants (Bienkowski and Coleman 2013: 82–83). Human remains predating 1770 are legally considered to be aboriginal and indigenous groups have been working to remove collections from museums for reburial (Mays 2010: 334). Additionally, indigenous groups to Australia have been lobbying in a concerted effort with the Australian government for the return of Australian aboriginal remains curated in international museums (Mays 2010: 334).

In Israel, reburial efforts are stimulated by religious arguments, with Jewish communities objecting to the disturbance and handling of human remains (Mays 2010: 335). The “Halacha,” or Jewish burial law, permits the relocation of human remains as part of salvage operations by the Israel Antiquities Authorities; however, the orthodox Jewish community opposes any excavations on burial grounds and strictly forbids scientific study or anything that might disturb the deceased (Nagar 2002: 87).

However, there are situations when the excavation of human remains is necessary, such as from erosion from climate change or areas slated for construction due to population expansion. In the United Kingdom, the majority of excavated human remains come from rescue or salvage operations ahead of urban development projects (Mays 2010: 336; Sayer 2010: 21). Despite the inevitable removal of these remains, ethical questions still arise regarding how the remains should be excavated from salvage projects, what should be done after they are removed from the ground, or if they should be reburied and by whom (Blau 2014: 2453). Often it is the opinion of the British public which is sought in making decisions about the treatment of remains, and while not uncontested, for the most part the public is supportive of the display of human remains in Britain (Sayer 2010: 96).

In working with collections or in countries that do not have histories of colonialism, codified systems of ethics, or where the treatment of human remains is highly varied, ethical guidelines still must apply. The treatment of human remains must still be respectful and the archaeologist should defer to the local community’s definition of what respect is. Archaeologists should educate themselves on the local cultural protocols and histories, to obtain an understanding of the context in which communities develop their own ethical principles.

Additional efforts have been made by global organizations such the British Association of Biological Anthropology and Osteoarchaeology (BABAO), the American Association of Physical Anthropologists (AAPA), the Society of American Archaeology (SAA), and the American Anthropological Association (AAA), which have developed and integrated codes of ethics to guide archaeologists that work with human remains. Other national and international documents such as the Center for World Indigenous Studies’ International Convenant on the Rights of Indigenous Nations, and the United Nations Education, Scientific, and Cultural Organization’s Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export, and Transfer of Cultural Property have also been created to address indigenous rights to their cultural heritage (Hanna 2003: 238; Henderson 2009: 59; Scarre 2013: 667).

Future Directions

Going forward, it is likely that there will be vestiges of discord and disagreement when debating the ethical principles regarding the treatment of human remains. In situations of competing and conflicting ethical systems, Walker (2008) advocates for open communication and understanding to find solutions which are amenable for both parties, as opposed to polemics and “self-righteous posturing” (13). While even among descendant communities, there may not a consensus on the appropriate treatment of human remains (Turner and Andrushko 2011: 44), Henderson discusses how the improved understanding of Indigenous ethics would create opportunities where communities exercise control over their heritage and their knowledge is respected and consulted (2009: 69).

Martin et al. (2013) suggest three questions every researcher working with human remains should ask prior to conducting their work: (1) What are the full implications of conducting this research? (2) How might the research impact the descendant and local communities? and (3) Are there potentially negative ways the information being collected and disseminated might be utilized by people outside the field of archaeology? (24). Despite their views on the importance of scientific inquiry, researchers working with collections of human remains have been forced to recognize that they share a mutual interest in those collections with indigenous communities and that in order for their work to remain relevant to those outside the discipline, they must consider the belief systems of the descendant populations and reflect on whether or not community members are likely to share the motivations driving their personal research.

Turner and Andrushko encourage the engagement and increased participation of local researchers and students in all aspects of the project in order to promote attitudes of collaboration and equality (2011: 57). They advocate for the dissemination of research findings not only to indigenous stakeholders, but to the general public as well in order to make their work more inclusive and relevant to those outside academia (2011: 57). While many consider this a vital part of any archaeologist’s work with human remains to avoid being esoteric and to be able to connect their work with contemporary issues, it is also important to consider the wishes of the local community regarding whether or not any collected data should be disseminated outside of the community (Martin et al. 2013: 23, 25).

Global archaeology is moving towards becoming a more inclusive and participatory science, allowing for the framing of a more comprehensive and encompassing view of the past (Martin et al. 2013: 23). Martin et al. discuss how important the dialogue between native communities and archaeologists is so that the treatment of human remains is as individuals rather than as objects of study (2013: 42). Previously disenfranchised groups now can decide the disposition of their ancestors, which is seen as vital to the survival of indigenous communities (Walker 2008: 16). As Henderson discusses (2009), this is a “moment of possibility,” where archaeologists and native communities can learn from one another’s views of ethical responsibility and work towards amiable partnerships that are mutually beneficial (67). This type of relationship shifts control away from the archaeologist, so that the community can choose to become a vested partner while controlling the dissemination of their own cultural property (Hanna 2003: 251–252; Henderson 2009: 67–68).

Zimmerman discusses how archaeological ethics are “complicated and ever changing” and reminds us how every paradigm shift within the field is an important and vital process to better understanding the past and moving towards and ethic of collaboration (2012: 99–100). Rather than binaries, there has and will always be a continuum of opinion regarding what defines ethical treatment (Zimmerman 2012: 105). With the incorporation of new research questions, methods, and technologies, previously engrained ethics are being replaced by broader views surrounding collaboration and indigenous stewardship (Zimmerman 2012: 113).

Cross-References