Abstract
The White Mountain Apache Tribe Cultural Heritage Resource Best Management Practices (WMATCHRBMPs) present and delineate in guideline form cultural heritage resource definitions, management, and necessary steps before, during, and after project implementation for any ground-disturbing projects potentially adversely affecting cultural heritage resources on Ndee (Apache) trust lands. However, since the tribe’s adoption of the practices, the application of Ndee tenets found within the guidelines to real-world cultural and archaeological methods and practices remains scant. Embedded in the Ndee cultural tenets is the tenet of “respect,” which I will argue can be used as a tool by non-Ndee researchers to critically reflect on their own research agendas and to guide research projects with Ndee communities. By foregrounding respect within various ongoing archaeological project-related occurrences, contemporary Ndee experiences, defining Ndee material trait lists, superiority statements, archaeological categorizations, and stereotypical underpinnings, better paths forward for collaborative research with Ndee and other Native American communities can be highlighted.
Introduction
In the continental United States, Native American communities are plagued by the legacies of early archaeological practice (Ferguson, 1996; McGuire, 1992; Trigger, 1980). The critical application and assessment of Native American epistemologies and tribally based parameters that act as the most effective means of method and practice are absent. The lack of consideration and effective inclusion of Native American epistemologies and best management practices leads to perpetually stagnant understandings of the past and present. This article suggests that there is a critical need for archaeologists working with Ndee communities to embrace tribal cultural heritage resource management practices beyond guideline form. Embracing such guidelines as “tenets” not only underpins the traditional and customary legal nature of Ndee tenets, but also exerts sovereignty-based understandings beyond simple recommendations that may or may not be included in final deliverables/reports or critically evaluated to provide the most beneficial outcomes for tribal entities. What I mean by sovereignty-based understandings is those tribal knowledge systems and practices that are created, maintained, and driven by tribal communities themselves. Welch (2018: 268) defines sovereignty-driven research “as the creation and mobilization of knowledge to serve collective interests in establishing and maintaining rights and responsibilities to govern, provide for, represent, and pursue desired futures on behalf of people and associated territory.” Therefore, exertion of tribal sovereignty in cultural heritage resource management projects allows for more “Ndee-controlled” processes to guide anthropological research and helps Ndee communities to better preserve and protect their culture, heritage, and identity in Ndee terms.
The goal of this article is to foreground a straightforward Ndee cultural tenet—Respect. The practice of respect is essential to many collaborative projects in reference to Native American communities and archaeologists, but understandings embedded in respect often elude researchers and thus more promising and productive dialogue. Increased understanding and possibly enhanced wisdom can be achieved when respect is embraced, beyond the implied practical meanings of Ndee tenets, by non-Ndee researchers. Embracing respect empowers Ndee communities beyond standard regulatory processes or the dubious application of Westernized method and theory, and transforms collaborative research into a social and political tool for the present and future (Atalay et al., 2014: 8). Moreover, echoing Atalay et al. (2014: 9), because overall project goals directed under current Western theoretical frameworks and methodologies often disconnect Ndee communities from their history through interpretation and dissemination, there needs to be a critical focus on Ndee epistemological reasoning that foregrounds Ndee culture and history as defined by Ndee communities. The current practice of archaeology continues to marginalize Indigenous groups from their own past because the power structures guiding the goals of archaeological research, analysis, data collection, and information sharing are often only useful to archaeologists, since they are the ones who created and maintain such processes (Atalay et al., 2014: 9).
This article suggests that Ndee cultural tenets like Respect can be used and applied to Ndee research contexts, contributing to overall community well-being and a sense of balance, beauty, and harmony, known as Gózhó, for Western Apache communities. Paths to such well-being and understandings can be achieved through: (1) contemporary Ndee in-field experiences, including project-related prayers/blessings/ceremonies; (2) exposing the limitations of Ndee “trait-lists” that often guide and define research goals, as well as the issues with utilizing ongoing stereotypical notions and assumptions in reference to Ndee culture and associated research, including archaeological terminology and subtle intellectual superiority statements; and (3) using the Ndee language and “place-based” reasoning to better inform contemporary researchers in becoming “wiser” and respectful when conducting research on Ndee trust lands.
Ndee communities
My research focuses on the traditional homeland of various Ndee tribal nations who, in 2013, signed the Ndee Iłahík’ai/Nnee Iłahík’ai (Apache People Joining Together, also known as the Inter-Apache Policy on Repatriation and the Protection of Apache Culture) (Gah’nahvah/Ya Ti’, 2013; Welch, 2017). These tribal nations include Fort Apache Indian Reservation, leaders of the Jicarilla Apache Nation, Mescalero Apache Tribe, Fort Sill Apache Tribe, San Carlos Apache Tribe, Tonto Apache Tribe, Apache Tribe of Oklahoma, White Mountain Apache Tribe, and Yavapai-Apache Nation. Therefore, in keeping with the terms of the agreement, I refer to non-Navajo Southern Athapaskans that I work with as “Ndee” and to the six Ndee cultural traditions as Kiowa, Lipan, Jicarilla, Mescalero, Chiricahua, and Western Apaches (Welch, 2000). The Ndee Iłahík’ai is grounded in an affirmation of a fundamental Southern Athapaskan precept: Gózhó—a state of beauty, balance, and harmony between the natural world, our communities, and ourselves. Attaining such states of Gózhó requires enduring commitment to Ndee tenets in all components and stages of anthropological-archaeological work with Ndee communities.
The results of this article are based on not only my identity as a White Mountain Apache tribal community member but also the overall experiences I have shared with Ndee colleagues from various Ndee Nations throughout my anthropological career. Although I use the term Ndee throughout this article per the terms of the Ndee Iłahík’ai/Nnee Iłahík’ai, I draw heavily from experience and dialogue with my own community as well as the Mescalero Apache Nation, who I have worked with in the past while employed at the U.S. Forest Service and for my doctoral dissertation. Many of the conversations I have had over the years with Ndee colleagues concerning cultural heritage resource management often stress the need for respect as a key component of archaeological research that should be guided by tribally based parameters to ensure things are being done right. Building upon such recognitions, this article foregrounds the concept of respect as a directional tool for future archaeological-anthropological work. I embrace the tenet of respect as outlined in the Ndee cultural heritage resource best management practices (Welch et al., 2004), encompassing the interrelations and well-being of “the seamless whole” in Ndee worldviews. Embracing such a form of respect might allow non-Ndee researchers to look beyond the static categorizations, trait-lists, and perpetual stereotypes that often guide Ndee research questions and understandings. The conceptual underpinning of respecting the seamless whole challenges archaeologists to look beyond traditional academic and scientifically informed archaeological practice to a more holistic and inclusive Ndee-informed methodology guided by Ndee experiences and perceptions. By delineating various ways non-Ndee and Ndee researchers can embrace respect as a methodological tool that can be used throughout the research process, better relationships and understandings of the wants and needs of contemporary Ndee groups can be realized.
Cultural heritage resources
“Apache customs and traditions recognize and sustain stewardship responsibilities, mandating Apache duties to protect and nurture what has been inherited from Apache ancestors” (Welch et al., 2004: 2). “To do this it is necessary to leave the land and its resources in an improved condition for future generations” (Welch et al., 2004: 2). Because many areas of the Ndee traditional and contemporary homeland exhibit such intimate and ongoing connections to Ndee well-being, Ndee tribally derived knowledge systems need to be applied as tenets in the form of mandated policy.
Ndee cultural tenets guiding resource management are outlined below (after Welch et al., 2004: 3).
Respect animals, plants, and minerals as parts of a seamless whole; Maintain balance between resource use and resource enhancement; Protect sacred sites and places of traditional cultural importance, as well as archaeological and historical artifacts and structures; Manage CHRs to blend into and harmonize with surrounding ecosystems; Employ non-invasive and least impact treatments and methods; Recognize that most CHRs are embedded in landscapes; project-related changes to plant communities, soil systems, or ecosystem functions may bring adverse effects to CHRs; Assure that the WMAT and Apache people receive all or most of any benefits from resource uses and activities; Acknowledge that suffering may visit those who fail to respect graves, objects, or other sites associated with Apache or non-Apache ancestors.
Although there is no overarching consensus among the various Ndee groups and individuals concerning CHR management practices, the aforementioned tenets demonstrate the uniquely significant association Ndee groups have to the past and present. Moreover, presenting the tenet of Respect, underpinned by attaining states of Gózhó, demonstrates the need for non-Ndee researchers to view and utilize Ndee cultural heritage resource tenets beyond guideline form, and ultimately to “restore Ndee control over Ndee heritage” (Welch et al., 2009: 152).
Useful directional tools: Why?
Because disturbance of CHRs disrupts traditional spirituality and is extremely offensive, Ndee groups, in many cases, respectfully avoid the past and practice “least impact” heritage management strategies. For example, on my own reservation various Ndee individuals are skeptical and question the motives of any type of ground-disturbing research on Ndee lands. Years of extraction and research conducted with minimal if any community benefits to Ndee communities lead many Ndee individuals to question any type of research. Many Ndee individuals practice avoidance and consider dealing with the past taboo. As stated by Welch et al. (2009: 151), “Ndee teachings mandate respect for all ancient places, objects, and intangibles, affirming avoidance as the highest form of respect. The past is often treated as a closed subject and those evincing interest in the knowledge and possessions of the dead are often viewed with suspicion.” Moreover, the negative legacies of large-scale archaeological projects like Grasshopper Field School have contributed to tribal members questioning the motivations of non-Ndee researchers wanting to conduct research on Ndee lands. Many prominent Southwest archaeologists began their careers through field research schools on White Mountain Apache Tribal Trust Lands. As researchers (Welch and Ferguson, 2007: 172; see also Reid and Whittlesey, 2005: 218) point out, “research at Grasshopper Pueblo, the ruins of a fourteenth-century village located on the western side of White Mountain Apache lands, has produced more than 24 dissertations, nine master’s theses, three books, six research monographs, and 100 book chapters and journal articles.” Furthermore, more than 1400 sets of human remains and at least 2270 associated funerary objects have been excavated and extracted from White Mountain Apache lands (Welch and Ferguson, 2007: 172)—a large bulk of human remains and items removed during Grasshopper Field School activities. The large-scale removal of ancestral remains and materials has contributed to sociocultural suffering amongst White Mountain Apache people due to not only the desecration and removal of our relatives, but also the inability to keep the world in balance by having ancestors taken from their homelands and made unable to return. More recently, such legacies of past research on White Mountain lands are continually experienced and felt even during tribal efforts to repatriate and reinter our ancestors and associated remains (Figure 1).
For example, during a large-scale repatriation effort at Grasshopper Pueblo, Ndee project team members came across an area where dozens of beer, whisky, and oil cans had been deposited during the field school days. This blatant form of disrespect by past archaeologists re-depositing trash into a sacred burial area demonstrates extreme lack of respect for Ndee ancestors. Such experiences pose the critical question, “What have they (archaeologists) done for the Ndee community?” Although such invasive research is not as common of a practice as it was, due to Ndee tribes taking control of their own heritage management and other cultural programs, tribes still suffer from lack of adequate consultation, collaboration, and effective recognition and application of cultural tenets in research projects.

Trash buried in back-filled rooms at Grasshopper Pueblo by archaeologists. Photo by Nicholas Laluk. On file, White Mountain Apache Tribe Historic Preservation Office.
Respect in Ndee contexts: Prayer/blessing/ceremony
Various collaborative archaeological projects with Indigenous communities (Anyon et al., 1997; Atalay, 2008a, 2008b; Cast et al., 2010; Christen, 2007; Dowdall and Parrish, 2003; Gonzalez, 2016; Hazarika, 2018; Krmpotich, 2012; Kuwanwisiwma, 2008; Teague, 2007) have talked about the concepts of respect in collaboration, heritage management, and repatriation contexts. Here, I would like to add to such discussions by highlighting the usefulness of the tenets of respect and underlying Ndee place-based reasoning that might guide non-Ndee researchers working on Ndee trust lands. White Mountain Apache Cultural Resource Director and NAGPRA Coordinator Ramon Riley once stated, in reference to the importance of mountains to Ndee lifeways and overall community well-being, that “they and the stars guide us” (Spoerl, 2001: 41). Because the Ndee were traditionally mountain peoples, the extreme importance and reverence Ndee show to “holy places” throughout Ndee traditional territory is constant. Such ongoing connections in the form of respect and responsibility through personal prayer or offering demonstrate relationships that go beyond superficial understandings of prayer in collaborative archaeological contexts.
For example, throughout my research experience within collaborative, tribal, and federal contexts, tribal members often begin any type of meeting, discussion, or field visit with an appropriate prayer for guidance and protection, showing that respectful, meaningful, and responsible project-related activities would occur. It is important for outside researchers, and sometimes tribal members as well, to understand that these blessings are necessary. They are not just for the benefit of the tribal project participants and the tribal community, but for all project personnel, their families, their future well-being, and the maintenance of continued balance and harmony in the world as well. Silliman (2009) recognizes these pre-project blessings or “smudges” as recent advancements or developments as a result of long-term work associated with the Eastern Pequot. Although in my personal experience these blessings/protective prayers are becoming more common in collaborative projects, I ask if we as archaeologists might be taking for granted prayers/ceremonies and oration manifested in elders/tribal cultural experts? For example, while hearing/participating in project-associated prayers, non-Ndee archaeologists and other Ndee individuals who do not follow traditional ways might remove their hats, bow their heads, place their hands together, and speculate on what they are hearing along the lines of their own religious belief systems. They might kindly say thank you without much more consideration or reflection of what the prayer-blessing truly means and how it can be used as a methodology, guiding and underpinning all Ndee cultural heritage resource management activities. Not only are these prayers asking for protection and guidance filled with tremendous power, they are replete with additional meaning in standard ethical paths for better collaborations to emerge.
For example, if one of the main tenets of dealing with cultural heritage resources in the Ndee worldview is “respect,” then this is manifested in the tribal practitioner giving the blessing/prayer as well. Often these prayers are given by the most respected, influential, venerated tribal individuals because it is believed within their community that their power is inherent, substantial, and highly effective. Following Cajete’s (2004: 52) statement that “We humans bring our reality into being by our thoughts, actions and intentions; hence, the focus of Native traditions on prayer to bring about and perpetuate life,” prayer in Ndee contexts contributes to achieving states of Gózhó not only to keep balance and harmony within the world but to perpetuate all components of life beyond specific archaeological projects. As Welch and Ferguson (2007: 192–193) point out, “Through prayers and respectful avoidance of places of sacred power and objects retired as the final phase of ceremonial use, Apaches maintain connections to lands, sites, objects and cultural traditions.” Here, such a tenet as the respectful prayer is dynamically braided and connected to all components of Ndee existence and future well-being. When non-Ndee individuals can see and embrace such connections and work to contribute to cultural, environmental, political, and social justice for Ndee communities, then better collaborative research can be achieved.
In his book Research Is Ceremony: Indigenous Research Methods, Cree scholar Shawn Wilson (2008: 73) discusses the concept of relationality in Indigenous contexts and suggests that “there is no one definite reality but rather different sets of relationships that make up an Indigenous ontology.” Applying this statement to the practice of prayer or blessings during Ndee collaborative archaeological research projects demonstrates the interrelationships of prayer and ceremony as dynamic and not conforming to or understood as a singular project-specific action, but a respectful, ongoing, cyclical methodology that constantly bridges everything together.
Following Wilson’s reasoning that Native American and Indigenous research methods should be viewed as “ceremony,” the blessing/prayer/ceremony component, from Ndee perspectives, acts as “ceremony” in a plethora of ways beyond pre- and post-project smudging or prayer. The spaces within the pre- and post-project blessings are not only guided by such blessings, but are areas for non-Ndee archaeologists to fill their own gaps in knowledge, thinking, methodology, and practice. Such knowledge-filling underscores a relational accountability between the past and present that may not be part of their intellectual toolkit due to understandings of the Ndee past learned primarily from non-Ndee scholars. Wilson (2008) and Williams (2012) both recognize the relational and relational accountability components of any research project, but Williams further emphasizes that such a model of ceremony “continues to be used and should continue to mediate between Native communities and outside researchers” (Williams, 2012: 109).
This recognition underscores my point that the most necessary, practical, and rational form of dealing with the past—the prayer/blessing/ceremony from the Ndee worldview—is a powerful tenet of protection and respect. It is also a vehicle of critical reflection researchers can utilize to guide and conduct themselves in ethically responsible, respectful, and responsive ways that really can make a difference to contemporary tribal communities. Demonstrating unfailing respect, discarding any type of paternalistic notion, being superficially aware, and realizing that what happened to Native American groups in the past bears directly on how they handle the present are essential to individual reflective processes. Because the past defines contemporary reality, then all activities associated with dealing with the past have to be approached within necessary tribally based parameters to avoid continued misinterpretation, poor collaborative/consultation efforts, and diminished meaning within tribal communities/contexts.
Other forms of respect: Trait-lists, perpetual stereotypes, statements of superiority, and expectations
I have explained the need for non-Ndee researchers to critically reflect and pay closer attention to the intricacies of the prayer/blessing when conducting projects with Ndee communities. However, there are other critical arenas of archaeological-anthropological research that demand respect through re-education and self-reflection, including trait-lists, perpetual Ndee stereotypes, and overall cultural expectations and naivety concerning Ndee communities. A focus on the harmful and detrimental effects of these issues is much needed, because too often non-Ndee researchers have come to define Ndee culture and history, which in turn perpetuates a cycle of stagnant research that curtails the Ndee voice. These voices and experiences can powerfully guide research questions and break down the barriers of stereotypes that plague understandings of Ndee people, but it takes extreme, heartfelt commitment and critical self-evaluation underlain by the tenet of respect for such changes to occur.
Trait-lists
In reference to respect, I also think various general stereotypes and distinctions are used to justify or clarify research among non-Ndee academics conducting Ndee archaeological research, clouding abilities to arrive at states of Gózhó through respect. For example, throughout the history of archaeological research in the U.S., archaeologists have developed “trait-lists” to categorize a range of phenomena, from time to material, to track the cultural development of various Indigenous communities. For Ndee groups, such classifications range from tracking ancestral Athapaskan arrival in the Southwest to academic and professional literature categorizing Ndee landscape presence as poorly understood or nearly invisible. However, such focus on the Ndee past through academic and popular discourse often distorts the history of Apache people (Krall and Vincent, 2007: 53). As Eva Watt suggests, such a lack of Apache agency in studies of the Apache past makes it hard to see how Apache people used to live (Watt and Basso, 2004: xvi). Cusick (1998) points out the problem with using essentialist analytical frameworks to interpret Indigenous contexts: such frameworks fail to define Indigenous identities as they are defined by Indigenous peoples themselves. In my own research, I have seen archaeologists come into Ndee communities armed with a set of traits learned from texts, classes, and our own initial understandings of these communities. These traits could include such terminology as ephemeral, highly mobile, poorly understood, low visibility, raiding and warfare, organic, and poor chronology. However, in reality such traits used to identify the Ndee past often do not adequately include what is important to contemporary Ndee communities. Such traits need to be re-examined and re-identified in Ndee terms, specifically those that are of crucial importance to contemporary Ndee communities. Even worse, but in a similar vein to utilizing such perceived trait lists to identify Ndee culture, are the continued stereotypes applied to Ndee communities. Ongoing use of such traits might “color popular understandings of indigenous cultures and identities in ways that set up unrealistic expectations about contemporary native communities” (Panich, 2013: 106). Re-identification and re-education are apparently and overwhelmingly needed, but why are certain essentialisms, speculations, and stereotypes continually made? In their cultural affiliation study on White Mountain Apache lands, Welch and Ferguson point out that their assessment “focused on categories of evidence not well documented by anthropologists” including geography, oral tradition, and traditional history (2007: 176). The focus on such categories is necessary for collaborative archaeological projects to further work to integrate tribally driven research interests. However, there is also a need to further embrace and utilize the underpinnings that cohere and drive such categories as geography, oral tradition, and traditional history, including cultural tenets outlined in the WMATCHRBMPs, such as respect.
Perpetual stereotypes, statements of superiority, and expectations
In archaeology, the term “stereotype” is not given much thought. In fact, what archaeologists might think about when they hear the term stereotype is the stereotypes they themselves endure as archaeologists. Do you dig up dinosaur bones? Do you own a padded-elbow jacket? Were you inspired by Indiana Jones movies? In reference to my own experience, stereotypes, expectations, and general naivety take on deeply embedded forms of systemic and structured knowledge systems resulting from ongoing legacies of colonialism. Constant assumptions, stereotypical notions, and naivety are experienced on an everyday basis by Indigenous archaeologists. In my case, the very much alive public notions of Ndee people as raiding, bloodthirsty savages, or that all Ndee people can be associated to prominent past Ndee leaders Geronimo or Cochise, are things that Ndee people face on a daily basis. This first form of stereotyping is overwhelmingly problematic and has been discussed in greater detail by other researchers (Mihesuah, 1996). However, there is a second, often less-obvious form of stereotyping that infiltrates academia and my own identity as an Indigenous archaeologist. It lurks, it is omnipresent, and it reminds us that there is a structured power system of archaeology we are navigating as Indigenous archaeologists. It is something non-Indigenous archaeologists often cannot comprehend, because it has been with us since our birth as Ndee individuals. What I am talking about is those statements that attempt to continually define or treat Ndee community knowledge systems and understandings as secondary—those statements that tell us what or who we are, or need, and should be.
Such statements—whether made out of naivety or arrogance—further contribute to my point that non-Ndee mindsets need to be re-educated in various degrees. Although researchers might be well-meaning, small statements or even naïve subtleties can have continuous social, cultural, and political implications that stagnate an archaeology for, with, and by (Nicholas and Andrews, 1997) Indigenous people. In my mind, such statements or actions parallel the sociocultural and psychological effects of stereotyping all Native American people. When communities are continually referred to or thought of in stereotypical ways or through paternalistic statements or thoughts of inequality—“an academic degree makes me an expert on your culture”—there can be a heightened sense of continued distrust, skepticism, and questioning one’s own abilities. It seems like Deloria’s statement of “an Indian being layed low by an anthro” (Deloria, 1969: 86) continually occurs in many ways due to the same colonial mindset and the unwillingness of researchers to truly critically examine their own research processes to truly achieve tribally driven Ndee research. Archaeologists-anthropologists might not want to hear Deloria’s statement thrown at them again, but even though such recognitions were made more than 50 years ago, Deloria’s critiques still survive in various ways. Maybe not as blatant or easily recognizable as during that time, but academic superiority and the products of such mindsets—initial defined research terminology/goals and statements such as “I am the expert”—whether through naivety or not, still perpetuate Deloria’s statement. For example, recently, I was part of a group of Ndee representatives working with a consulting company in the U.S. Southwest. The goal of the project was to reinterpret various areas within a mountain range in southern Arizona that was of ongoing importance to Ndee communities. During the project there was a recently hired young woman working as the main point of contact for the land managing agency we were working with. Throughout the entirety of that component of the project, on various occasions, the woman referred to herself as an expert on Ndee archaeology of the area. The woman seemed well-intentioned and overall wanted to do good “collaborative” work, but I found such statements offensive and unnecessary. Even though the woman could have learned and researched Ndee occupations in the Southwest or read about Ndee historical-period presence in the area, standing right next to her were Ndee elders who have spent years in the same area on similar projects. They have learned from their families their own Ndee history and it is an inherent part of their mind, blood, and body. Although probably not intentional, such statements demonstrate my point about the harmfulness of superiority statements and learned expectations of a culture. So, knowing what a Ndee wickiup looks like archaeologically makes you an expert on my culture? In this sense, I feel that such acts of “saming” or “commensuration”—the power of creating otherness where the other is not considered an equal—puts Ndee folks in spaces of political and intellectual inferiority (Hazarika, 2018: 144). As an outsider, attempting to “equalize” knowledge about one’s culture by asserting that one is an expert highlights reverberations of unequal knowledge acknowledgement and marginalization at the practical, theoretical, methodological, political, social, and psychological levels of the archaeological discipline. By making the Ndee past and present their own by filtering experiences, beliefs, identities, and culture through familiar, learned forms of Western practice, including mechanisms of voiced and published discourse, non-Ndee archaeologists subordinate Ndee survival and existence into a politics of discourse. This discourse is perpetuated in K-12 schoolbooks, undergraduate and graduate schools’ required theoretical courses, and often, worse, through public perceptions of present day Ndee communities. Here, basic respect in the form of considering such statements should be always be practiced, but the deeper effects demonstrate a mindset of unequal power cultivated through Western perceptions and expectations of Ndee culture and history.
These experiences occur not only in archaeological contexts with non-Indigenous academics, but in the everyday lives of Ndee and Indigenous individuals as well. I have been part of an ongoing reburial project for my tribe for many years and very recently I had a small crew out at a large Ancestral Pueblo site preparing the area for future reburial. The area is part of an optional walking tour associated with my tribe’s tourism activities. While in the field, tourists often would stop and try to ask some questions. Generally, such questions were not too bad. Some had undertones of naivety, while others were along the lines of the culture and history of the area. On a few occasions, however, such questions moved beyond naivety to arenas of Western expectations and somewhat engrained understandings of what, why, and how Native Americans should and need to be. While I was taking some notes one day, an elderly couple started a conversation with me. They saw I had a university-affiliated hat on and became interested in my background. After I gave a brief anecdote about my academic background, the woman asked, “Is it common for people from your community, other than you, to go to college?” At first, the desire to be sarcastic almost took over and I wanted to reply, “No. I am the first one in my tribe ever to go to college,” but I held back and answered the question. This question struck me, and I began to think of the social, political, and cultural implications that Native Americans go through that many non-Native archaeologists-anthropologists don’t have to deal with on an everyday basis. What if I were white? Would have I been asked that question? What if I had not gone to school, what would have been her question then? I will return to this experience shortly, but another experience a week or so later made me equally upset and contemplative. While I was working in another area of the same site by myself near the interpretive trail, another couple stopped and started to ask me some questions. Again, at first the questions were general and easily answerable, but near the end of the conversation the man asked, “Why don’t people here take care of their land?” Again, I was somewhat shocked. I know Native American folks often discuss various stereotypes that perpetuate non-Native American understandings of Indian country, this being a main one, but why again, I thought, is that a question that always needs to be asked? Why in this context? I explained some Native American history and the lack of personnel and monetary support many tribes face due to legacies of colonialism. But as they walked away, I felt somewhat broken down and speculated upon. How are we not taking care of our land? Do they consider me dirty? Why is this an appropriate question? My point with these individual experiences is to demonstrate that there is something deeper that many Indigenous archaeologists have to deal with on an everyday basis that underlies much of our past. I think such questions have strong ties to a statement by former White Mountain THPO John Welch in reference to the losses and harms created by the actions of non-Ndee individuals who exploit and interpret Ndee culture. Welch points out (2018: 270–271), “I learned that these losses are experienced by Apaches, on personal and collective levels, as harmful and continuing results of non-Apache miners, loggers, cowboys, labor contractors, and researchers looking to Apache people and lands as means for advancing non-Apache interests.” Welch goes on to state that “the colonial histories of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries continue to translate into daunting suites and real and pressing problems” (2018: 271). Such a recognition underscores the structure of the colonial mindset and misunderstandings engrained in the public’s and non-Ndee researchers’ perceptions of how and what Ndee communities need to and should be.
Do non-Indigenous archaeologists, especially working in their own communities, have to deal with such questions? I have heard many complaints from non-Indigenous archaeologists about being asked if they study dinosaur bones or the constant probing/inquiries/speculations as to what they are digging up, but do such questions evoke a sense of dehumanization and reignite hurtful memories of dealing with such questions one’s whole life, as they do for Native Americans? Oftentimes Native American individuals get treated differently in various contexts due to ongoing colonial structures and stereotypical understandings that often generalize Native American groups. This is something that should always be considered when attempting to do consultation or collaborative research with Native American communities. Basic respect is something that morally should be always a given, but the “archaeological dialect,” which continues to define Ndee pasts through Western methodologies, research agendas, and misrepresentations (see Laluk, 2017; Welch, 1997; Welch, 2017; Welch et al., 2009a; Welch and Brauchli, 2010; Welch and Riley, 2001; Welch et al., 2009b, for some exceptions) can be viewed as an act of injustice and misrepresentation. If non-Ndee researchers do not always consider the political, social, cultural, and psychological underpinnings of the past and present that exist within such everyday in-field experiences of Indigenous peoples, then it is very difficult for collaborative archaeological projects to evolve and move forward. As a result, narratives are perpetuated or created and questions are posed that really do not effectively move archaeological collaboration with Ndee communities forward in reference to issues of importance to Ndee communities. It is similar to what Clark (2018: 546–547) suggests in her work with WWII Japanese internment camps in that such experiences do “not fit easily into the American narrative, and so it is a story some of the public does not want to hear.” Appropriation, Assimilation, Broken Treaties, Extermination, Genocide, Injustice, Land Loss, Murder, Racism, Relocation, and Trauma are not the types of words archaeologists and the general public usually deal with and consider on an everyday basis within their understandings of Native American communities or within the “archaeological dialect.”
As Preucel and Cipolla (2008: 138) suggest, “In some cases, the language of archaeology can be outright offensive to indigenous peoples. The manner in which archaeological terminology represents events, ancestors, and ancestral materials should be interrogated in the spirit of the postcolonial critique.” I think such terminology, in some cases, exists due to preconceived notions of certain Native American groups, such as Ndee communities. As Clark (2018: 546) suggests, “Disempowered groups often find that key elements of their own experience are misrepresented or unknown.” Such elements of experience are constantly misrepresented or unknown due not only to the limitations of archaeological diction but to those of categorization as well. Clark (2018: 550) points this out, using one of the most basic terms in the archaeological dialect, “artifact.” She states that “many of our theoretical, epistemological, and interpretive tools were forged without much thought for the present.” Because such terms as “artifact” are “in part because of their association with archaeology, considered things of the past,” distinct Native American and other Indigenous meanings beyond structured and systemic terminological habits used by archaeologists get marginalized through misinterpretation, lack of consideration, overreliance on non-Indigenous perceptions, and failure to fully engage tribal/Indigenous tenets and contemporary reasoning beyond such terms. As San Ildefonso Pueblo tribal citizen and archaeologist Joseph Aguilar states in referring to his homeland, “What archaeologists call artifacts are just part of the landscape here. It was part of our history, and it was also just part of growing up here. It wasn’t until I got to college and graduate school that I was exposed to a different way of understanding the mesa through archaeology” (Sanchez, 2017). Aguilar’s statement parallels not only my point about problems with archaeological terminology, but issues of interpretation and understanding as well, which emphasize Ball’s point (2002: 468) that “different cultures have very different metaphysical underpinnings to their intellectual systems.” As Indigenous archaeologists, being part of our communities contributes to our epistemological and ontological underpinnings in ways that go beyond any type of archaeological meaning-making or reasoning. As White Mountain Apache Cultural Resources Director and NAGPRA Coordinator Ramon Riley has stated, “you have to be Apache to know.” Here, I think because such perpetual experiential and hermeneutical injustice continues to adversely affect Ndee communities, archaeologists need to work to inform students and even the general public about not only problems of archaeological terminology in collaborative contexts, but also the inter-workings and relationships of colonialism, ongoing stereotypes, and issues with the “archaeological dialect” that continue to plague Native American communities.
Ultimately, recognition of Ndee cultural dynamics beyond perpetually biased interpretation will not only contribute to better understandings of the Ndee past but also to overall well-being by foregrounding Ndee perceptions. I feel this section highlighting my own personal in-field experiences is needed in discussions of respect—as Ndee cultural tenets. Such in-field experiences ground the structural and systemic nature of ongoing non-interpretations and thought processes in the contemporary real-world experiences of an Ndee tribal member trained as an archaeologist.
Place-based reasoning: An Ndee path forward
As an Ndee researcher and tribal member, embracing the Ndee past through protection and respect should not require me to internalize the Westernized methodology and the various non-Ndee vehicles used to interpret these systems, including the archaeological dialect and terminology that may not usefully comport with Ndee understandings of who we are. Therefore, I think an Ndee informal theory of the mind, underscoring “wisdom,” might assist archaeological researchers to critically evaluate their own learned understandings of Ndee culture and history and move beyond the use of Western mechanisms of knowledge production to interpret the Ndee past and present.
In discussing his own struggle with understanding wisdom in Ndee contexts, Keith Basso (1996) delineates three mental conditions: (1) smoothness of mind; (2) resilience of mind; and (3) steadiness of mind. The first component—smoothness of mind—conveys a sense of cleared space or an area free of obstructions. “Like cleared plots of ground, smooth minds are unobstructed—unclustered and unfettered—a quality which permits them to observe and reason with penetrating clarity” (Basso, 1996: 131). “Skeptical of outward appearances, smooth minds are able to look through them and beyond them to detect obscured realities and hidden possibilities” (Basso, 1996: 131). Along the lines of the tenet of respect, if archaeologists can approach archaeological research with Ndee communities with an understanding that learned textbook perceptions/cultural traits/outward appearances of Ndee folks might be, at times, obscured realities that do not underscore true paths to wisdom and contemporary community well-being, then potential “best practices” can be truly put into practice. Applying such a practical theory of the mind to places/sites can potentially create site-specific mental conditions in order to avoid specific harmful events or threatening circumstances to Ndee communities. Such site-specific mental conditions leading to a “smoothness of mind” might be best expressed in utilizing the Ndee language to refer to places like Grasshopper Pueblo, where irresponsible and unethical in-field practices occurred in the past. Because Ndee individuals continue to learn from and are morally and socially informed by topographical place-names, perhaps creating an “Ndee archaeological-anthropological dialect” in reference to place-names associated with past archaeological activities may help to make non-Ndee researchers working on Ndee lands become wiser. Among the many place-names mentioned in Wisdom Sits in Places, Basso refers to “Trail Goes Down Between Two Hills” in his explanation of an Ndee place associated with the moral stories of Old Man Owl and how it related to a previous episode with Cibecue community member Talbert Paxon. By hearing Mr. Dudley Patterson say only, “So! You’ve returned from Trail Goes Down Between Two Hills,” Mr. Paxon knew right away that he had to alter his actions and conduct in his own life accordingly (Basso, 1996: 117–119).
Along such lines of reasoning from an Ndee perspective in reference to meaning and interpretation, would it help for Ndee individuals to create a place-name categorical list of areas on and off Ndee trust lands that are being threatened or have been disturbed and destroyed by archaeological activities of the past? Do we need to refer to disturbed places (Grasshopper) with such names as “place where trash was disrespectfully left,” “Kude doo whaa dagonłsįh dahgo ch’ínágodéhé adagozlaa lę,” to make archaeologists become wise and hopefully smooth of mind in the Ndee sense? Of course, such places as Grasshopper remain extremely significant to Ndee people. We have our own experiences, stories, and place-names to refer to such areas that remind us how to act and live right within our own communities. However, an Ndee-based place-name dialect in the Ndee language referring to past archaeological practices better informs non-Ndee researchers of the legacies of irresponsible and unethical activities, the hurt, and the sociocultural consequences Ndee communities deal with as a result of such past practices. Hearing place-based phrases expressed in the Ndee language empowers Ndee sovereignty and self-determination through assertion of past unethical behaviors in the Ndee language. Such expressions of sovereignty may instill much-needed critical reflection in non-Ndee mindsets that may lead to a “smoothness of mind.” Moreover, in-field, direct experiences with places and associated names collectively offer not only critical reflexive thought, but also glimpses into the cultural, political, and social consequences of past project activities that non-Ndee researchers need to understand before any type of research can be conducted. As Basso (1996: 109) suggests, “relationships to places are lived most often in the company of other peoples, and it is on these communal occasions—when places are sensed together—that native views of the physical world become accessible to strangers.” Of course, never can all individual and community experiences of what it means to be Ndee and how such past archaeological practices continue to harm Ndee people—along with the ongoing stereotypes about, struggles of, damages to, and intergenerational pain in Ndee culture—be presented in contemporary “place-name” form to assist non-Ndee researchers to become wiser by achieving a smoothness of mind according to the Ndee worldview. Hidden possibilities at many times are hidden within plain sight, and it often takes time, avid listening, experience, and critical reflection to learn and become “wiser” in the Ndee sense, and to apply such wisdom to expressions of Gózhó in all arenas of cultural heritage management and overall understandings of Ndee communities. I have touched upon a tenet of Ndee cultural heritage resource management that may assist researchers approaching the past to better understand contemporary Ndee concerns and values. Various forms of respect are practiced by tribal nations in the U.S., but recognizing and applying such implicit concepts to real-world, everyday CHR management, building capacity, and maximizing benefits for tribal communities is still evolving.
For archaeologists to attempt to meet these concerns within the realities of today’s processes, there needs to be some type of management plan that addresses such tenets as respect in greater detail that identifies tribal interests and priorities. The White Mountain Apache Tribe Cultural Heritage Resource Best Management Practices provides a useful tool for non-Ndee researchers to address contemporary archaeological practices affecting traditional Ndee lands, but researchers need to be reflexive and contemplate how research practices can embrace the “respect” tenet and achieve a “smoothness of the mind” while at the same time allowing Ndee communities to retain a sense of Gózhó—balance, harmony, and beauty.
Conclusion
In discussing the Best Cultural Heritage Stewardship Practices (BSPs), Welch et al. (2009) suggest, “The BSPs may never be perfected as vital links among ancient inheritance, current land management, and desired features, but the effort to bring Ndee values and interests to bear on these issues and concerns has facilitated important examinations and revitalizations of Ndee philosophies and practices.” As an Ndee tribal member I think such links are perfected in the minds of many Ndee individuals and communities; however, following this statement, what is important is revitalizing such philosophies and practices in Ndee terms to meet the needs of the present and future. Moreover, non-Ndee researchers need to embrace and wholeheartedly accept the critical need to educate beyond the standard and generalization of what non-Ndee researchers and the general public expect Ndee history and culture to be. As Nicholas (2006: 350) suggests, “paying closer attention to traditional knowledge may lead to challenges of those theories or at least offer alternative explanations or greater awareness of non-Western ways of thinking about landscapes.” However, as I have argued, such a statement can be taken further to critically engage the whole spectrum and inner dynamics of not only the cultural tenet of Respect but also the underlying, pervasive notions of what is best for tribal and Indigenous communities and/or what they should or need to be through a Westernized lens. Such pervasive notions, including stereotypes, misrepresentations, and false expectations, have resulted directly from colonial practices. As Eason and Robbins (2012: 19) state, “Colonization has forced us toward a fixation on the knowledge that is produced outside of ourselves and our immediate connection to others.” In my own dissertation-writing, I struggled to get beyond such knowledge created beyond myself and my identity as an Ndee tribal member. Why did I have to live and embrace such knowledge systems which defined archaeological method, theory, and categorization of what the Ndee past needs to be—defined it as a “diagnostic trait-list” existing in the archaeological dialect that was not inherently my own, which would instead be defined through my ancestors, clan affiliation, blood, family, language, and land? I knew what was best for myself and my tribe, but why do I have to explain my research in lay, Westernized theoretical terms, defined by dead white guys who had never been close to my reservation lands or could never understand what it is to be Ndee (e.g. Bourdieu, Foucault, James, Marx), as is the norm across the board in graduate core theoretical archaeology programs throughout the U.S.? More specifically, why do I have to show how Ndee theories and institutions defined by such tenets as respect since time immemorial comport with or parallel such Westernized frameworks? As Wilson (2008: 127) states, “there should be no need for us to constantly justify, validate or change our work in order to fit foreign research paradigms.” Here is the underlying problem. If something does not fit, it does not do any good trying to make it fit. Going back to my own in-field experiences with the general public and even other professional archaeologists: they too need to continue to challenge, question, and critically reflect on the usefulness of theory, perpetual stereotypical notions and questions, and intellectual superiority statements before engaging in collaborative work with Native American and Indigenous communities.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the White Mountain and Mescalero Tribal Historic Preservation Offices and affiliated program managers and staff, particularly Mark Altaha, Arden Comanche, Holly Houghton, and Ramon Riley. I would also like to thank various reviewers of the draft manuscript, including Chip Colwell, Michelle Leleivre, Robert Preucel, Kerry Thompson, and Rebecca Tsosie.
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
