‘Who are we to decide?’ Internal challenges to cultural authority in the contestation over human remains in British museums

Introduction

Over the last three decades human remains in museum collections have become the focus of contestation. In the 1980s, requests from indigenous movements for the repatriation of human remains and funerary artefacts, considered culturally affiliated to them, developed in North America, Australia, Canada and New Zealand. These claims were strongly opposed, primarily by physical anthropologists and scientists who research the material professionally, because they consider human remains to be research objects and unique evidence of the past, used for research on evolution, adaptation, population movement and the impact of the environment (see, for instance, Mulvaney, 1991). Nonetheless, legislation and policy was agreed requiring a sympathetic response to requests, including, in 1990, in North America, the Native Graves Repatriation Act (NAGPRA), which compelled the inventory of human remains and associated material from all federally-funded institutions and the transfer to lineal descendants and culturally affiliated groups.

The contestation over human remains in Britain became prominent in the late 1990s. After high-profile campaigns, and despite fierce opposition, the Human Tissue Act 2004 was passed, amending the 1963 British Museum Act, and consequently permitted, and encouraged, the removal of human remains material from specific (and previously resistant) museums. The emergence of the issue in Britain is different in two important respects. Firstly, there was significantly weaker external pressure on institutions compared to Australasia, America and Canada, which responded to claims from indigenous groups. Secondly, while elsewhere the focus of attention has been human remains associated with indigenous groups who suffered under colonization, the problem has been extended by professionals in Britain who argue that all human remains require special attention. Whilst certain material is far more difficult, now, to retain in museums due to historical associations – particularly Tasmanian Aboriginal remains – some professionals promote the claim that all human remains should be subject to new codes and attention (see, for instance, Woodhead, 2002; Bienkowski and Chapman, 2007).

Theorists have examined the museum as ‘sites of contestation’ as influenced by a number of social changes (Dubin, 1999; Marontate, 2005). The controversies over the representations of the past and different histories are predominantly understood as the results of tension due to the challenges from social movements who make demands regarding the representation of ‘their culture’ and relativistic claims which threatened to dethrone claims to objective knowledge. Contestations over human remains and cultural property, in particular, are analysed as influenced by indigenous movements applying pressure on resistant professionals (see, for instance, Cove, 1995; Phillips and Johnson, 2003; Greenfield, 2007). The museum institution is characterized as resistant to those challenges (see, for example, Macdonald and Fyfe, 1996: 9). These accounts have limitations when applied to the British context. In Britain, where the claims-making activity from overseas indigenous groups is comparatively weaker, it is not adequate to interpret high-profile contestation, resulting in significant shifts in English law, sector and museum policy, as primarily due to pressure from overseas groups. Furthermore, the analysis does not address why all human remains have become the focus for activism and cannot account for the extension of the problem to unclaimed human remains.

Oliver Bennett (1996) and Sharon Macdonald (1998, 2002) venture that there is a more complicated dynamic to contestation, and note an involvement of the sector itself in questioning the authority of the museum. This paper draws on these observations, arguing that the dynamic that warrants further theoretical attention is an internal one. In what follows, I suggest that one of the most important influences on the contestation over human remains is that it has been waged not by social movements external to the institution, as it is frequently characterized, but by insiders. Senior curators, directors and policy-makers within the sector have been instrumental in raising various manifestations of the holding, display and treatment of human remains as a problem. Some were highly visible members of prestigious museums and the Museums Association – the professional body for the sector. As the issue progressed, new individuals within the profession emerged, expanding the issue and arguing for a new respect for all human remains. Whilst the problem was vigorously opposed, initially by a significant minority of professionals, over a period of time resistant individuals have outwardly accepted some of the initial arguments put forward by claims-makers within the sector, and in certain cases opposition has attenuated.

The activities of the campaigning museum professionals in promoting this issue are a response to a crisis of cultural authority and an attempt to secure new legitimacy by distancing themselves from a discredited foundational remit. This observation, and the illustrated ongoing nature of the questioning of the foundational authority of the museum, has implications for how we theorize the institution. It is frequently observed that museums contribute to the cohesion and reproduction of capitalist society, that the development of museums in Western societies actively supports the dominant classes, conserving the social order (Duncan and Wallach, 1980; Prior, 2002). The question this paper raises is: what is the impact on this function when there is a sustained challenge to the authority of the museum by museum professionals themselves?

I first discuss the crisis of cultural authority in museums. I then identify the claims-makers, following which I outline empirical material to illustrate the problem of cultural authority in influencing this issue. Through an analysis of interviews and policy, I suggest that campaigning activities have an internal focus, and posit that professionals are involved in this problem so as to define themselves against the foundational purpose of the museum. Those opposing the campaigns find it difficult to sustain their arguments against repatriation and are unable to articulate a rationale for the museum, and thus activists have a greater influence on policies and practice. The conclusion considers the nature of the museum institution and the consequences for a profession which questions its own legitimacy.

Methodology

My analysis is based on a larger study that draws on semi-structured, in-depth interviews, policy and documentary material. Over the time frame of 2006–8, I interviewed 37 professionals involved in this debate. I identified prominent campaigners and critics, locating individuals who had spoken on the issue in the national and sector press and through their attendance at related sector events. This group was expanded by identifying professions and organizations that had published policy on this issue, or had been involved in some way in the debate. The strength and limitation of this approach was that it included a wide range of museums nationally, including, for example, the British Museum, as well as a local authority museum in Surrey. It encompassed a diverse group of people: museum directors, policy-makers, and curators from specific disciplines: scientists, anthropologists and archaeologists. This broad brush means that the research did not address the differences that the variations between size, hierarchy and discipline, may present.

A crisis of cultural authority

Max Weber’s (1968) conceptualization of legitimacy in relation to state authority has provided the analytical framework for most analysis of authority (Ritzer, 1996). Weber was interested in legitimate forms of domination. Broadly, he argued that society evolved historically from political orders based on charismatic and traditional types of legitimation, to a modern state legitimated primarily on legal grounds. Authority demonstrates possession of status or a social position which compels trust or obedience. As part of this ability to demand trust or obedience, authority suggests the potential to use force or to penalize people in some fashion. For example, political authority can threaten imprisonment, which makes people reliant upon such authorities for their freedom. Political authority requires respect and consent rather than domination. Authority therefore incorporates two sources of control: dependence and legitimacy. The latter rests on the acceptance that the state or the law should be followed and the former on what will happen if it is not. Philosopher Hannah Arendt (1977) is careful to stress these two foundations of authority identified as crucial by Weber, both of which are equally required. Where and when force is used, she argues, authority has failed. It has also failed when only argument and persuasion are used, for this presumes equality rather than superiority.

Paul Starr terms the authority which defines and affirms judgements of meaning and reality ‘cultural authority’ (1982: 13). Social and cultural authority differs in several ways, Starr outlines. Social authority controls actions and behaviour through law, rules and instructions. Cultural authority involves the construction of reality through definitions of fact and value. Historically museums have held cultural authority, which frames and affirms the pursuit of truth and defines what is culturally significant. These institutions play a role in affirming ideas about the pursuit and organization of knowledge, for reasons that are historically constituted. Whilst aspects of the museum can be traced back to the medieval Schatz, a treasury of goods collected by the Habsburg Monarchy, or private collecting in the Renaissance, it is the development of public collections in the 18th and 19th century which, arguably, rationalized private collections into a specific meaningful public context (Abt, 2006). With the Enlightenment, ideas developed about the absolute character of knowledge, discoverable by the methods of rationalism and its universal applicability, which informed the purpose of the museum and the rationale of the display of artefacts (Hooper-Greenhill, 1989; Prior, 2002). The moving, initially of the Royal Collections in France, into a semi-public context in the 19th century reconceptualized the space and the collection, from randomly collected objects chosen by private individuals into a rational organization of artefacts based on ideas of progress.

In the last 40 years, the traditional justification of museum institutions has undergone criticisms and scrutiny which have contributed to a crisis of cultural authority as the foundational justifications were undermined. In addition to the constraints and pressures arising from the operations of the market, the central tenets of the Enlightenment, which informed the remit of the museum in the 18th and 19th century, have been called into question (Foster, 1985; Bauman, 1987; Bennett, 1996). Whilst there was always hostility towards the principles of this period, a number of intellectual trends since the late 1960s have consolidated this critical outlook, challenging the truth claims and the idea of the museum as a distinct realm removed from social and political forces (Furedi, 2004). Postmodernism, cultural theory and postcolonial theory have variously interrogated the traditional justifications of the museum. Whilst I do not have the space to explore the important differences between these theories, it can be observed that with rise of postmodern and postcolonial theories, culture and science came to be viewed not as universal or objective but as a damaging reflection of the prejudices of European cultures. The impact of these ideas stimulated the ‘culture wars’, ‘history wars’ and ‘science wars’ in the 1980s, in which Enlightenment ideas of truth, universalism, judgement and progress were criticized, defended and debated (Hunter, 1991; Gitlin, 1995).

As a consequence of these intellectual shifts, the outlooks of the earlier period which informed the role of the museum – to validate the superiority of modern reason, to make judgements, to pursue the truth and to claim to pursue the truth – have been discredited. The debates over objective truth and relativism were rapidly assimilated into museology by theorists and practitioners. Until the 1980s, whilst there was some examination of the social and educational role of museums, it was marginal (Merriman, 1991). This shifted dramatically in the late 1980s, when a body of work developed criticizing the idea that museums were value-free, arguing that they are inherently political. Pierre Bourdieu’s work, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste (1984), was a catalyst for this approach, in which he explores the social roots and organization of judgement and taste. Bourdieu developed the idea that cultural discernment was a marker of class position and that visiting galleries was a way to indicate taste and class. Cultural tastes were really influenced by primary and secondary socialization processes rather than a response to universal values of truth or beauty.

The development of museums in Western societies, it has come to be argued by a wide group of museologists and practitioners, occurred in specific historical circumstances and actively supports the dominant classes, maintaining the status quo as natural (see, for instance, Duncan and Wallach, 1980; Sherman and Rogoff, 1994). Whilst there are significant variations in this approach, I venture that the challenges to the historical claims to objectivity and truth have been internalized and promoted by academics and professionals.

The Initial Claims-Makers

Key issue entrepreneurs in framing the problem of indigenous human remains in museum collections were archaeological, anthropological and museum professionals, initially from North America and Australia. Individuals in Britain adopted the problem as a result of direct relationships between professionals, one method for the diffusion of ideas (McAdam and Rucht, 1993). This process is well-illustrated by following the emergence, and subsequent promotion, of the issue at the World Archaeological Congress, a non-governmental organization. Anthropologist Peter Ucko was National Secretary and organized the first Congress in Southampton in 1986 – previously he had been Principle of the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies in Canberra. It was here that the concern about the treatment of the human remains of indigenous groups developed as a problem, raised by indigenous activists and American and Australian anthropologists. Subsequently it became a ‘crucially important’ (Ucko, 1987: 228) issue for the WAC. The Steering Committee ‘raised the problem’ (Ucko, 1987: 231) amongst the museum community in Britain, arranging meetings for them with overseas claimant groups. Ucko and the anthropologist Jane Hubert assumed an ownership of the problem in Britain, acting as issue entrepreneurs. Ucko’s research student, Cressida Fforde, built direct links with campaigners, community groups and British museums. Fforde researched the acquisition and collection of human remains in British collections, examining historical documentation and collections (see, for instance, Fforde, 1992, 2004). She was involved in government processes, contributing to the Human Remains Working Group Report (Fforde, 2001) and joint government and sector policy (DCMS, 2005). Fforde has acted as an archives researcher searching the museums for undocumented human remains, including a bone fragment, transferred out of the University of Edinburgh collections in 2008 to the Ngarrindjeri tribe in Australia (personal communication, 2 July 2008).

Theorists Strang and Meyer make the observation that the promotion of ideas may be cultural as well as relational, which may help to explain diffusion that is rapid (1993). While it is possible to chart direct relationships formed between campaigners, certain museum professionals were highly receptive to their campaign and adopted concepts quickly. In the early 1990s the Museums Association commissioned the museologist and activist Moira Simpson to undertake two research projects to determine its members’ views about repatriation. She found the vast majority of respondents accepted the notion. In one question, only three were categorically opposed out of 123 respondents. Of these respondents, only 17 institutions out of 164 had received enquiries about repatriation (Simpson, 1997: 17). This suggests a hospitable reaction to the concept of repatriation that was not stimulated by specific requests. Similarly significant is the support from the Museums Journal – published by the MA. Two editorials support repatriation in the 1990s and include supporting articles and news report (Davies, 1993, 1994). The editor and writer of both editorials was Maurice Davies, later appointed Deputy Director of the MA, and member of the Working Group on Human Remains.

The receptivity of certain members of the sector is further demonstrated by decisions taken by professionals to transfer human remains to overseas indigenous groups prior to the change in law. In the 1990s Bradford, Peterborough, University of Oxford, Pitt Rivers, Horniman Museum, Exeter and Witby museums, transferred human remains to Australia, Canada and New Zealand (DCMS, 2003a: 21; DCMS, 2003b: 29). Whilst these decisions were in response to requests from overseas groups, one was initiated by a Keeper of Ethnography (DCMS, 2003a: 28). Receptivity is also evident in policy that advocates the pro-active contacting of community groups (MEG, 1991; SM, 2001; B&H, 2006; Bolton Museum, 2007; MUM, 2007; UCL, 2007).

The extension of the problem to include unclaimed human remains has been promoted by members of the sector (see, for instance, Levitt and Hadland, 2006; Bienowski and Chapman, 2007). In particular, individuals at Manchester University Museum have vigorously campaigned for changes in the way unclaimed human remains are treated. In 2008, three Egyptian unwrapped mummies on display at Manchester University Museum were covered with cloth by professionals, in the name of respect. Eight policies in particular indicate a significant concern about the display of human remains. These state that human remains should be separated from objects in their stores and collections, that handling by the public should no longer take place, and that researchers should wear gloves when holding them (B&H, 2006; LCMG, 2006; NMGW, 2006; MoL, 2006, RCM, 2006; MUM, 2007; UCL, 2007; HEM, 2009). Previously there was no policy outlining any guidelines on the treatment of human remains. The idea that all human remains should be treated differently has been internalized by professionals without requests from claims-making groups, although it is less widely held than the idea that human remains from once colonized groups should be transferred to affiliated communities (see, for instance, Vaswani, 2001; Kilmister, 2003).

An Internal Battle

The majority of the comments by interviewees about the treatment of human remains were situated in a broader discussion about changes to the purpose of the museum. Out of 37 interviewees, 33 commented that museums are changing the role that they play, moving away from a legislative role orientated to creating knowledge, towards a remit that is more socially responsible and with a therapeutic impact. The primary concern was that changes in museums did not go far enough, due to fellow professionals who were criticized as ‘old fashioned’. The words ‘traditional’ or ‘traditionally’ was used to characterize practice and behaviour deemed problematic, which needed to be addressed and changed. One curator from a regional museum, with an archaeology specialism, said:

Traditionally the museum community is obsessed with ownership, control and authority … We know now ourselves that it won’t do, you know, but it’s so ingrained in us we cannot quite kick it, so you know, we are wavering between the two.

This individual welcomed the general changes in museums. He thought it was necessary to continue to press for change in other professionals because they were too controlling:

We know we should be better at sharing and not controlling but we can’t quite kick it. And that is a little bit … a bit about the type of people who work in museums, without being too crude, um … there is still a generation of people who work in museums, you know who are … still in the past, their whole psyche is about control, ownership and authority and not talking and not sharing.

This curator was concerned about people in the sector who retained the idea that they are an authority. This focus on the attitude of other professionals was held by another interviewee. One senior curator of a regional museum, who had a science background, positioned his own advocacy work on human remains in the context of his long-term campaign to alter the remit of the institution:

I’ve had to battle all my life with people in museums who are, to put it crudely, carers. Traditionally the museum community is obsessed with ownership, control and authority. You know ‘keepers’ is the right name for some of them. Carers are anally retentive. Sharers tend to be the opposite but tend not to have, you know, the scholarly background, but are really excited by the museum as a social enterprise. And that I think what you are seeing in British museums is an agenda, which has moved away from the carer to the sharer.

His reference to a ‘battle’ suggests that the debate about the remit of the museum is significant for him, reinforced by the dramatic use of ‘all my life’. That he identifies the ‘battle’ with ‘people in museums’ reveals an internal target of altering the behaviour of colleagues. His account of the changes in museums, which describes an agenda moving from the carer to the sharer, echoes Bauman’s articulation in Legislators and Interpreters (1987) of the move from a legislative role to one of facilitator, under the influence of the market and postmodernity. Whilst this interviewee was excited about changes in museums towards a more ‘social’ role, he was critical of those in the sector who tried to ‘hang on’ both to objects and authority.

Others were enthusiastic about the contestation over human remains because it suggested museums could do things differently. One archaeologist in a regional museum expressed regret that the repatriation debate had been resolved by changes in legislation before she got the job, as she would have liked to be involved, even though there were no human remains from overseas communities in the collection. She said: ‘It’s a shame as it was so exciting, you know, people were really doing some good and getting things changed.’ The issue had symbolic resonance with this individual, even though the museum she worked for held no remains from overseas communities. For another, a senior professional from a university museum, being an activist in the debate was more important to him than his area of studied expertise:

I am an archaeologist. My specialism is the Persian period … a big find has just happened and I should go, I am the expert of … in this area, but I would much rather stay and do this, this is more pressing and important for me now.

The personal identification with this problem speaks to its symbolic nature. Being involved in campaigning for, in this case, greater ‘respect’ for human remains generally, was counterpoised as more valuable than work involving his trained expertise.

Imposing Divisions Between the Past and the Present

Interviewees repeatedly spoke of ‘the traditional museum’ in ‘the past’ as acting in a certain, problematic, fashion, described as: keeping or controlling objects, the pursuit of knowledge, thinking solely about the collection instead of the audience, and only thinking about an elite audience. One curator, at a small regional museum, explained:

… in the old days museums displayed things associated with faith and belief, but from the point of view of anthropology, archaeology, sociology, fine or decorative art, you know. Traditionally, the objective was appreciation, not participation.

There was less detail about current practice than an emphasis on the point that the present practice is unlike the past. For example, when talking about the need to consult with different groups, one interviewee dwelt less on the specifics of the groups – their needs or interests – and more on the actions of the museum and the shifts in the curatorial role, which was displaced. This suggests that the process of consultation is important less because of those involved than what it signals about a shift in the function of the museum. In a similar vein, one curator from a small regional museum commented that the treatment of human remains should be re-thought, because it should be different to how it was in the past:

I do think that there is a need for serious ethical debate about the issue of how all human remains are treated in museums. I don’t think they should be just taken off display or arranged in a particular way … really … I’m not quite sure, I don’t think so. But a lot of what we do just relies on what we used to do, and maybe that needs rethinking.

This is not a rationale for treating human remains in a particular way, but a discourse which valorizes contemporary practice that is different to the past. The reference to the past to justify-even define-contemporary action, pervades the discourse, and suggests that present-day actions are informed by attempts to distance professionals from the past as a key strategy, and that the treatment of human remains has become a vehicle for signalling a shift between the discredited past and the future.

Continued but Attenuating Contestation

Whilst many interviewees framed their activities around human remains in a broader discourse of change in institutional practice, there were ten individuals who tried to do the opposite – to contain and avoid implied wider ramifications to the remit of the museum. They had been, or still were, critical of changes to the holding of human remains, and had opposed the transfer of this material out of collections. One curator, with a scientific background, altered his conception of the value of a set of human remains of Maori origin, including human heads, after a repatriation decision. Prior to their return, he described the potential repatriation as a ‘serious threat to scientific research’. After the decision, his emphasis changed. In a second interview, he stated: ‘I see it as a political issue and, you know, we weren’t working on those skulls. I don’t think anyone really wanted to, because they were not useful, and they wanted them’. His use of the term ‘political’ is a way of diminishing the action and distancing it from general practice. He tried to smooth out divisions in the conception of these changes on the impact of the museum, rather than impose them, and he reconceptualized the usefulness of the material from important to negligible. Another interviewee, from a national museum, tried to play down any implication of changes to the institution, suggesting that the transfer of human remains was in continuity with the historical remit of the institution, instead of the more frequent presentation as dramatically different. He framed the transfer of human remains as contributing to an idea of public benefit, because of the gains to knowledge from Australian aboriginal communities, rather than as a loss of knowledge:

If we want to expand the work we do across Australia we want to work with representatives of those communities … it’s a good thing … and they know stuff we don’t, so there is an important public benefit in the return. We will learn from them, so it’s to the benefit of the museum. And so then the removal doesn’t really entail a loss … In fact, we’ve always been, museums have always been about public benefit.

He explained they took a formal decision not to use the commonly used term ‘repatriation’ when they transferred human remains out of their collection, and instead publicly rationalized this action as adding to public benefit:

… we avoid the term repatriation in any of our public statements on this matter as we don’t think that’s the issue. We think the issue is responding humanely according to the public benefit test in particular cases.

Furthermore, this professional explained, the institution was recognizing the unique qualities of human remains, which he contrasted as different to artefacts in the collection:

We also talk about these things as recent human remains, which is different to objects so it doesn’t set precedents. You know … we are not about sending things back to where they came from, we are about responding to claims on these particular human items in the collection, which are unlike anything else because they are bits of people.

This professional was concerned about the ramifications on possible future claims on the institution which might include objects. In this instance, once the law had been changed, an institution previously resistant to the problem of human remains, and that had refused requests, tried to avoid any implication that it might apply to artefacts, thus reinforcing the emerging idea that the holding specifically of human remains is a problem. The focus of this debate on human remains to the exclusion of objects and the relationship of it to the broader repatriation discussion which does involve objects, is important to consider. It requires a reflection on the body as a locus of political and ethical debates, as well as analysis of the importance of the extensive association, by activists, of human remains in collections to high-profile controversies over the retention of children’s body parts by hospitals in the late 1990s and early 2000s which resulted in two political enquiries: The Bristol Royal Infirmary Inquiry (2000) and The Royal Liverpool Children’s Inquiry (2001). I do not have the space to discuss this here, but it is noteworthy that the interaction of professionals, in trying either to change the purpose of the museum or retain its authority and research purpose, has, in this instance, reinforced the idea that human remains are difficult objects.

Out of 37 professionals interviewed by late 2006, six remained critical of repatriation to once colonized, overseas groups. Notably, it also had become rhetorically accepted, in certain circumstances, as good practice by the majority of previous critics, with the exception of six interviewees: four scientists, one archaeologist, and one curator of a local museum. Of the six interviewees who were critical and opposed the transfer of human remains, one was open to repatriation in relation to historical wrong-doing, when probed, suggesting that this argument is difficult to challenge. This scientist at a national museum said:

… in certain circumstances, when say the material was taken in seriously dubious circumstances, which you know, happened, then maybe it is the right thing to do. But we should not forget this means the irretrievable loss of information.

Another scientist, from a national museum, with whom I informally spoke with on a number of occasions and who had previously expressed strong criticism of repatriation, would only be interviewed with the tape recorder turned off. He was worried that, whilst he had been critical of repatriation, ‘we can no longer be seen to be so hostile’. Two interviewees, both scientists, interpreted the ‘attacks’, as one described it, on them as part of a ‘historical continuing and repeated attack on science and rationality … not for the first time do we have to fight back’. One was animated with criticism, saying scientists were ‘demonized’ in the present period. For this critic, the shift towards transferring material was part of a historical fight the scientists have always had to be part of in order to advance their research.

The request of this interviewee, to turn off the recorder, was distinctively different to the response of those who advocated the changes in practice. Indeed, there were a number of differences in the interviewees of those advocating change and those resisting that are worthy of note. First, I discussed the issue of anonymity with participants, explaining they would not be identified by name. On the whole, those resisting changes pushed me on this issue and wanted to be assured they could not be identified. Taking a very different approach, those who strongly proposed chances in practice told me they would not have a problem being identified. Furthermore, I found three activists very keen to speak with me, and that they wanted to talk much longer than the assigned time (one hour). It appeared that the interview process, for the latter group, was affirming and that they sought recognition of their involvement.

Reconstituting Authority?

Sociologists examining the construction of problems identify and explore the claims-makers interests in promoting an issue. Joel Best (1990) observes that activists may stand to acquire more influence, or there may be indirect symbolic benefits which contribute to explaining their activities. In this case it is interesting that museum professionals have participated in activities that appear to subvert their status and query the role of the institution. These observations raise the question: why have professionals participated in campaigning activities that do not appear to be in their interests, which results in the loss of material of research value, and which disowns the foundational purpose of the institution? I venture that the sustained erosion of the traditional justification of the modern museum has stimulated an attempt by the profession to distance itself from this remit, and to create a new role for itself. Professionals involved in campaigning for changes to the way human remains are treated and for their repatriation are involved in trying to create new legitimacy for the institution, by separating themselves from the foundational purpose of the museum, reshaping the organization to pursue a social purpose and as one which affirms identities.

What, then, happens to the cultural authority of the museum when it is challenged, as in this case? Does the institution still play the same role? The work of Tony Bennett, more broadly on the strategic positioning of museums, would suggest that it does. Bennett (1998) has criticized Bauman’s characterization of the changing role of intellectuals in contemporary society, allegedly involving a shift from holding legislative authority to playing the role of facilitators. For Bennett, the facilitator role is one that does hold authority, but it is not the authority to define true knowledge. Intellectuals may play the role of a facilitator, instead of holding legislative authority, Bennett acknowledges but, he argues, the museum and the professional are still of central importance in the relationships of knowledge creation and dissemination, and reinforce cultural ideas and norms in the service of government. He cites the acts and processes in Australian museums that promote the development of cross-cultural understanding between whites and indigenous Australians. These institutions retain a different authority but, crucially, are still in the service of government, because they are involved in the politics of recognition. He additionally suggests that the prescriptive social character of contemporary cultural policy bears some resemblance to the Victorian moralism of the 19th century, which regarded culture as a tool to fashion correct behaviour and attitudes, and thus it is an institution that continues to play the same role as in the past (Bennett, 1998). Thus Bennett writes that the museum is still a ‘program of the same type’ as before. (p. 212).

However, the continued questioning of authority, that I now discuss, challenges this analysis. The major legal change that campaigners were calling for – an amendment to the British Museum Act to permit de-accessioning – came into force with the Human Tissue Act (2004). Soon after, and partly as a consequence of the new Act, significant agreements were reached to transfer Aboriginal human remains out of the British Museum and the Natural History Museum, two previously resistant national institutions. And a committee of museum professionals were commissioned by the UK Government’s Department of Culture, Media and Sport to draw up the Guidance for the Care of Human Remains in Museums (2005), designed to place parameters on actions and treatment concerning human remains and draw the controversy to a close. It is worthy of note that the report also extends comments on best practice to apply to all human remains, rather than just those requested or from overseas communities. Pertinent to this paper is the response to the report. There was a highly critical response to the document from two groups: a newly formed Pagan organization – Honouring the Ancient Dead – formed to make claims on human remains, and members of the museum sector, the latter being the focus here.

Overall, the main concern expressed by critics was that the profession and the museum continue to impose their authority because they were the ones deciding the future of human remains, even if they chose to repatriate them. Indeed, this is explicitly acknowledged in the policy as a problem (DCMS, 2005: 24). One member of the committee that drafted the guidance indicated in an interview that the group were concerned the museum sector were still the decision-makers in human remains cases. Hopefully, he said, in time the one-sided nature of the relationship would change:

… we went through that whole thing of … we went on and on about how this has to be an equitable, equal relationship … then someone said … but they are in our collections and we’ll be making the final decision. We went, ‘oh God’, without speaking for five minutes … but we have to accept it. They start off in our care, so we will be the ones that decide at first … and then we’ll see.

The response from the Museum Association was critical about the fact that museums retained too much power to decide the future of the human remains (MA, 2005). In a formal response the body stated it was ‘disappointed’ that there was no ‘firm commitment’ to the establishment of an advisory panel for museums to seek ‘independent advice’ in cases involving human remains requests. An advisory panel would have ensured that museums were not able to dominate the decision-making process, they argued.

Similar concerns regarding the power and authority of the museum were raised by interviewees. The major problem for 12 interviewees with the policy was that the decision resided with the museum. One curator at a university museum said: ‘In a sense the decision still remains, I suppose, the museums’ to make and that’s a difficulty’. One senior curator of a national museum rhetorically asked ‘Who are we to decide?’, saying that ‘it is not our place to adjudicate who has ownership’.

The continued problem of human remains in museum collections, despite the change in law and the transfer out of collections to overseas communities of significant remains, illustrates the underlying dynamic of challenges to the authority of the museum institution from within. That some members of the profession appear uncomfortable with their position of decision-maker, and that they continue to try and outsource this role, suggests that despite attempts to resolve the contestation over human remains, possible solutions have a provisional and limited quality, because members of the sector continue to disown and question their own authority.

Conclusion

The institutional critique of the art museum articulated by Bourdieu (1984) can be referred to as a dominant ideology approach to state-sponsored cultural institutions, where they are seen to function for the cohesion and reproduction of capitalist society. Gordon Fyfe (2006) has suggested that this perspective has problems due to recent developments. Fyfe posits that the growing diversity of museums means that the consideration of these organizations, as in the service of reinforcing dominant ideologies, needs reconsideration. He also notes that this function is resisted by contemporary audiences who have grown and broadened through the expansion of visitors. Nick Prior (2003, 2006), however, makes the case that while there is a degree of reflexivity in institutions in recent times, they can still be considered institutions that promote dominant ideologies and are in the service of the state, similar to that analysis of Tony Bennett. Prior recognizes the trends identified by theorists to question the traditional role of the institution, in this instance the influence of the market and postmodernism, but he does not conclude they signal the demise of the institution, suggesting instead that museums are involved in ‘double coding’ (2002: 58) where they promote different and apparently contradictory values at the same time.

The ongoing and continued contestation and questioning from within the museum relates to this discussion. I take a different view to Prior and Bennett, and build on Fyfe’s call to reconsider the conventional analysis. The museum may act in the service of government, as evidenced by the rise of the social purpose outlined in policy such as tackling social inclusion, that Bennett draws our attention to. But certain sections of the cadres within museums question their ability to do so and constantly undermine their authority to do so. Whilst museums are involved in double coding, and contradictions could always be found in the traditional museum, I suggest that Prior overstates the historical continuity. The remit of the museum in the contemporary period is different to the museum of the past, because then professionals did not hold that truth and cultural value should be under attack, and they did not publicly and constantly query whether or not they should be legislators. The contemporary museum institution is unable to demonstrate its authority. As the demonstration of authority is identified as essential to legitimacy (Weber, 1968; Arendt, 1977), this will continue to present problems for the museum. The role and positioning of the museum institution will continue to be questioned by influential members of the sector, and it is unlikely that the problem of cultural authority will be easily resolved or legitimacy secured. This leaves the museum institution open to challenges from both outside and within the sector, either from new claims-making groups or issue entrepreneurs in the profession, making its remit today and in the future highly unstable.