My basic response to all this is that regardless of what it may have been at one point, anthropology today is not a science, and the AAA’s rewording reflects the current reality better than the earlier wording did.  (I have no particular opinion on the other major controversy about the rewording, which has to do with whether it focuses too much on public outreach rather than research.)  I think it’s definitely the case that the trend in anthropology has been toward greater focus on sociocultural anthropology at the expense of the more “scientific” subfields of physical anthropology, archaeology, and linguistics, and that concomitant with this shift sociocultural anthropology itself has become more humanistic and less scientific.  Personally I think this is a good thing, and that the other subfields never fit that comfortably in anthropology anyway and would be better off becoming independent disciplines or parts of other disciplines, as is largely the case for linguistics already and has always been the case for archaeology in Europe.  Whether those other disciplines would be scientific or not is a separate issue, but I think the rump anthropology would not be.

I’ve been hesitant to wade too far into this controversy, however, because I don’t feel like I have a firm enough definition of “science” to rigorously defend my conclusion that anthropology is not one.  I’m sure this has been discussed plenty in the philosophy of science literature, but I’m not familiar with that literature.  My argument so far is basically a descriptivist one: I think most people have a sense of what “science” means that does not include (sociocultural) anthropology, therefore anthropology is not a science.  I don’t necessarily consider this a problem, either.  Saying anthropology is not scientific does not mean it isn’t “real” research or worth doing.  There are plenty of serious disciplines that virtually no one thinks of as sciences; history, for example.  I can see why the “scientific” anthropologists want to be considered scientists, because of the prestige associated with science in comparison to most other disciplines (although as Keith has recently noted, science is not without its own problems).  I don’t really see why they care about being considered anthropologists, though.  Anthropology isn’t particularly prestigious as academic disciplines go, at least in my experience.

Anyway, I don’t have much more to say about this at this point, because to say more I would really need to define what I mean by “science” and I’m not yet prepared to do that.  I do still think, however, that however you define “science,” anthropology doesn’t count as one.

Twenty years ago, landmark legislation passed by the U.S. Congress revolutionized the field of archaeology in America. That much everyone can agree on.

But some anthropologists insist that the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) has allowed religion to trump science. Other anthropologists argue just as strongly that

Today, Science magazine publishes a special section that examines NAGPRA’s impact to archaeology. The effects are considerable–for better and worse.

I’m one of the three contributors to the special section. As I was reporting the various stories, I felt as if I was navigating an intellectual and ethical minefield. The issues raised in the stories are as complex as they get when a branch of science must be reconciled with an ugly historical legacy. Things get even more complicated when you consider that some of the profession’s practices–both in the lab and the field–are still considered to be offensive to an entire culture.

I’m going to talk more about this in a follow-up post over the weekend. Meanwhile, go and have a look at Science’s website. The stories are available free of charge (which is unusual for Science. You just have to register). We’re hoping to get a discussion going at the site, so feel free to drop a comment over there.

I’ll provide one excerpt from an interview I did with Steve Lekson, a leading southwestern archaeologist. Lekson, who is the anthropology curator at the University of Colorado’s Museum of Natural History, in Boulder, has spent the last six years repatriating  hundreds of human remains and sacred objects. In a recent essay, Lekson talks candidly about how the experience triggered a sort of professional existential crisis. When we met a few months ago in Boulder, I asked him to elaborate:

The worst part, personally, was participating in reburials. The tribes asked us to do that. There was one particularly large reburial, where we arranged to get the money and facilitate what was going to happen. The tribes are legally in the driver’s seat at that point, but we agreed to help out. There were many sets of human remains, many pots. So we needed a backhoe, … chemical toilets, travel arrangements, this was a major logistical operation. The Indians [representing a Pueblo tribe] didn’t want to handle the remains, so the white guys did that. So I’m putting all these dead people down in the ground. And at the end of it, there’s a huge hole 60 to 70 feet long and 8 feet deep, and 10 feet wide, with its floor completely covered with human remains—skeletons. It looked like something out of World War I. Lines and lines of skeletons. And I’m standing next to the Pueblo representatives. I don’t know whether I should apologize or what. Apologizing wouldn’t even begin to cover it. It’s one thing when they’re in a box on shelves. It’s another when they’re looking up at you.

These strike me as a rich source of information about a culture that is otherwise inaccessible to anthropologists: jihadi martyrs. How would you go about developing a critical anthropological methodology to reading these video texts?

Varzi then says, apparently, that she wouldn’t do it without an ethnographic component. Which makes Adam Fish wonder:

Let me get this right. I gotta hang out, like, deeply, with jihadi terrorists? As an anthropologist I cannot make a statement about jihadi video production practices without having first squeezed my way into their schedule and shared a few meetings over tea with my local jihadist? I’d love to, frankly, but I doubt I can network into their cliques.

Two relevant questions seem to be missing from this discussion.  Wouldn’t the Human Terrain program make this a wee bit more problematic and dangerous (methinks jihadists probably know about it). And secondly, even if no Human Terrain anthropologists were working in a war zone, there would still be a huge risk factor. It’s not insurmountable–journalists find a way to talk to jihadists–but it’s there, which Fish seems to ignore.

The question Danger Room posed a few months back still stands unanswered:

Are there any conditions under which anthropologists can work with the military?

The accompanying web-only piece illustrates how Navajo oral history deeply shapes the views and beliefs of Taft Blackhorse, a Navajo archaeologist who I spent time with while reporting on these stories. I will say that I grew quite fond of Taft and his colleague, John Stein. They were generous hosts and there’s a part of me rooting for them to continue their maverick ways and quixotic quest. That said, I have no doubt that many archaeologists will be shaking their heads in disbelief at some of the statements they make.

Combined, the two stories reveal an interesting dilemma for archaeologists who strive to reconcile data-driven science with information gleaned from a culture’s oral tradition.

I’ll have more to say on all this shortly, as I suspect others will offer their own commentary, some who I know have already read the print story. I look forward to a spirited exchange.

One final thought: while writing these stories, I was reminded of something I once read in an essay by geographer D.W. Meinig, in this classic book:

Any landscape is composed not only of what lies before our eyes, but what lies in our heads.

Dramatic climactic events are always used to explain culture change in the Andes. But this is not satisfying based on what we know about human culture. It paints a picture of culture sitting there, not changing, hit by events over which they have no control. But Native Americans did not always live in harmony with their environment.

That last line provided some fodder for an interesting exchange in the comments thread of the story. I really wish Savage Minds would take up this meme some day. By happenstance, the death of this giant in anthropology is relevant to a wider discussion, which Rex duly notes over at Savage Minds:

First, Lévi-Strauss taught us that culture is a force in its own right.

The question many scholars struggle with is how much of a “force” culture plays in a society’s own demise–be it the Anasazi, the Angkor, or even in the widely cited case of a certain island people.

In a broader sense, then, there appears to be simmering tension over “who wears the pants.” How that gets worked out probably will help determine whether there is a relatively smooth journey toward more or less 9 billion people on a finite planet in the next few decades.

An astute Dot Earth reader offers an excellent anecdote about women in Saudi Arabia. It speaks to the importance of culture in all this. (Savage Minds: where are you? You’re missing a golden opportunity.) Here’s the kicker from the comment (which should be read in full):

So changing a cultural or religious taboo is not something outsiders can impose upon a society without fierce resistance. The change, if it comes at all, must come from within, and the pioneers will pay a painful price.

Craig Childs advising archaeologists on how to write for a popular audience is about as useful as Steven Spielberg advising them on how to make movies. (So you don’t like Indiana Jones…well, here’s how you can make your own movies…)

There are very, very few scientists who have the inclination, much less the ability, to write for both an academic and general audience. In fact, I’d argue it’s damn near impossible to pull off. I’m not sure I’d even suggest archaeologists waste their time trying unless they had a passion to write. And they knew how to use the literary tool box.

Then there is this fact: scienitsts who have demonstrated the requisite motivation and writerly skills usually devote the majority of their time to communicating with a popular audience. They cease being active scholars.

Via Gambler’s House, I hear that Childs cites Steve Lekson as a shining example of archaeologist as popular communicator. No, that wouldn’t be accurate. I say that as a big fan of Steve’s. What Lekson does is write grand narratives that help archaeologists broaden their perspectives. (And instead of being appreciative, they criticize him for it.)

To really communicate to a popular audience, Lekson has to take it to the next level and start emulating Jared Diamond, E.O. Wilson, Carl Safina, Oliver Sachs, Carl Sagan, et al.   These are the real popular communicators of science; they are synthesizers, storytellers and literary talents. They are also a rare breed; if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll know whether you have what it takes to join that club.

Instead, what I would suggest is that archaeologists learn from Gambler’s House and become bloggers.  And they need not possess the literary chops to reach a wider audience. Just look at the success of Real Climate. It’s an influential group blog, comprised mainly of climatologists. They play a big role in the public climate debate.

Another good example would be Savage Minds, an anthropology group blog. They don’t have the same reach as Real Climate, but that’s because their areas of interest don’t intersect with controversial political and policy issues.

Still, the success of both sites suggests it is possible to communicate to your fellow scientists and the outside world. Maybe in a few years, Gambler’s House will be returning to Pecos to give a talk on how it’s done.

Meanwhile, if GH could write a post about the elephant in the big tent at Pecos, I’d be much obliged.

So of course there was a lot of buzz when National Geographic Adventure announced recently that it had identified the skeleton of Everett Ruess, who had disappeared 75 years ago in the Southwest’s Four Corners region.

Not so fast, says Kevin Jones, Utah’s state archaeologist:

I’m not convinced that it’s him. A lot of people threw aside their skepticism with the announcement of the DNA tests. They don’t realize that DNA is just another line of evidence, and can yield mistakes as well.

“The complaint has no merit at all,” Jared Diamond tells Science magazine in an exclusive interview published today, referring to the $10 million lawsuit filed against him and The New Yorker, for his April 2008 piece on a blood feud in Papua New Guinea.

The Science story is only available to subscribers, or those with online access, but the author, Michael Balter, has excerpts on his blog, including this quote from New Yorker editor David Remnick:

It appears that The New Yorker and Jared Diamond are the subject of an unfair and, frankly, mystifying barrage of accusations.

He’s talking to you, Rhonda Shearer, and to a lesser extent, you guys over at Savage Minds.  Time to double-down?