NOWHERE IN THE world are archaeologists allowed to conduct archaeological research without some governmental oversight. Today the majority of the archaeological research is conducted in response to provincial or national laws. Archaeologists must work within the constraints of national laws, which commonly mandate consultation with indigenous and local communities. The recommendations and opinions of these communities on what can be excavated and how various types of artifacts and human remains are treated are frequently adhered to by the permitting and sponsoring agencies. There are contemporary archaeologists who pine for a golden age of archaeological research, a time when the intrepid researcher could seek knowledge by excavating freely without governmental constraints and interference. At the end of the excavation, the researcher could return home with the artifacts, human skeletons, and other materials and analyze them in whatever manner was deemed appropriate. If there ever was such a golden age, it existed amid nineteenth- and twentieth-century Western colonialism, and it was considered golden only by the colonialists. Today its remnants are long gone in most parts of the world. The past as represented in archaeological and historic sites is important to contemporary society and is used in various ways (P. Fowler 1992; Kristiansen 1992), and, consequently, individual nations govern and regulate how their past is used and treated by archaeologists.
There is a universal interest in the preservation of archaeological and historic sites. People and nations value archaeological sites for the information they contain about the past, for the tangible sense of identity they provide to people as representations of their common history, for their important religious associations, and for the economic benefits they provide to local communities. Unfortunately, thousands are destroyed each year by development projects, agricultural practices, looting, and erosion.
Most nations of the world have established laws protecting archaeological sites and regulating archaeological practice and research. Some nations, like Sweden and Mexico, have a long history of protecting archaeological sites, but most nations have enacted comprehensive preservation laws only since the end of World War II (Cleere 1993). These laws have led to the employment of archaeologists at all levels of government and to the emergence of private archaeological firms to provide archaeological services to government agencies and private businesses. This sphere of archaeological practice is known as archaeological heritage management (Hunter and Ralston 1993) and is part of a larger endeavor known as cultural resource management (CRM), or heritage resource management.
The vast majority of contemporary archaeological research is funded and conducted within the framework of archaeological heritage management and CRM. This research is constrained in many ways, yet archaeological research in this context has advantages and opportunities not found in traditional grant-funded academic research. The purpose of this chapter is to discuss the constraints and opportunities of research in archaeological heritage management and to show how this is similar to and different from grant-funded research. To do this, one needs to understand the scope of CRM, the values of archaeological sites, and the management and legal environment archaeologists work in.
The term “cultural resources” refers to a variety of different types of historic properties, as well as cultural celebrations, religious activities, art and craft traditions, and associated artifacts and documents (King 1998:5–9). Archaeological sites are just one type of property within this group. The value people attach to the different categories of these resources is culturally specific, and the preservation actions of individual governments and ethnic groups reflect these values (Anyon and Ferguson 1995; Ndoro and Pwiti 2001). Most societies consider archaeological sites, historic sites, shipwrecks, standing architectural properties, and significant engineering works as cultural resources, and the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) recognizes these property types in its World Heritage program (Cleere 2000). Properties may be valued individually or collectively as part of historic districts, or as historic and cultural landscapes.
Cultural resources may encompass other types of property as well. Sites labeled in the United States as “traditional cultural properties” (Parker 1993; Parker and King 1998) are important in many parts of the world where traditional societies still exist (Flood 1989; Ndoro and Pwiti 2001). Traditional cultural properties may include a local community’s subsistence and resource gathering areas, places where significant community celebrations are held, and religious sites. They may also be archaeological sites. Archaeological sites and other localities may be part of a larger landscape embedded with cultural meaning and significance. The historic and sacred landscape of the Bible and Koran in the Middle East is an outstanding example of a landscape that has significance for Christians, Jews, and Muslims worldwide. The landscapes of mesas and mountains hold comparable historic, cultural, and religious significance to the indigenous peoples of the western United States (Walker 1991; Basso 1996; Parker 2001). Such landscapes are similarly significant in other parts of the world (Cleere 1995; Feld and Basso 1996; Tacon 1999). The distinction between cultural resources and natural resources can be fuzzy and is not made by all societies of the world.
In addition, various governments recognize and act to preserve traditional dances, art, and crafts. For example, the Republic of Korea formally registers dance troupes, artists, and craftsmen, as well as their products, as significant historic resources (www.ocp.go.kr). Not only does the Korean Cultural Property Administration recognize and support these intangible cultural products; it also registers and protects farm animals that are unique to Korea. Many Indian tribal preservation offices in the United States are as interested in language and traditional lifeway preservation as archaeological and historic site preservation. UNESCO also recognizes the importance of intangible cultural resources (www.unesco.org/culture/heritage/intangible).
National heritage laws recognize the importance of documents, oral histories, photographs, and artifacts in and by themselves or associated with various archaeological and historic properties (King 1998). They are important cultural resources needing care and management, and UNESCO recognizes these resources in its Memory of the World program (www.unesco.org).
The age at which properties come to be regarded as significant differs from country to country. For example, in the United States properties must be at least fifty years old to be eligible for listing in the National Register of Historic Places, although unusually significant properties, such as Cape Canaveral, may be listed sooner. In contrast, historic properties must be older than A.D. 1700 in Jordan to be considered significant and receive legal protection (Shunnaq and Reid 2000).
If one looks at cultural resources in this broad sense, then the scope of the field is large and multi-disciplinary, and archaeology is only part of the whole (King et al. 1977; King 1987; Knudson 1986, 2000; McGimsey and Davis 2000). Anthropologists, archaeologists, historians, folklorists, epigraphers, architects, engineers, curators, archivists, park managers, and education specialists are involved in CRM and have a role in archaeological site preservation and management.
The terms “cultural resource” and “cultural resource management” are used mostly in the United States, although they are increasingly used in other countries. Archaeologists in the United States believe they coined the term sometime in the early 1970s (McGimsey and Davis 1977:25; Fowler 1982; King 2002:5). And despite early recognition that the term had broad implications (King et al. 1977:8–10; McGimsey and Davis 1977:27), it has been used mostly by archaeologists to refer to archaeology conducted in response to state and federal laws (Knudson 1986; King 2002). Interestingly, the term is not used in the various heritage laws of the United States, although it occurs in the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969. There are a number of related terms such as heritage management, historic preservation, cultural heritage, public archaeology, and archaeological heritage management (Kerber 1994; Lopinot 2002; McManamon and Hatton 2000; Potter 1994). Heritage management, cultural resource management, and cultural heritage management are frequently used interchangeably. Heritage management is a more common term used in the United Kingdom and Europe, but UNESCO uses the term “cultural heritage.” The U.S. Forest Service uses the term “heritage resources,” although the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers uses “cultural resources” to describe its programs. In the United States, the term “historic property” is legally defined in the National Historic Preservation Act as those properties eligible for or listed in the National Register of Historic Places and includes archaeological and historic sites (including traditional cultural properties), architectural and engineering properties, and some types of objects. The term “historic preservation” sometimes has a narrower connotation, at least in the United States, referring to the preservation of the built environment and towns, and this is the emphasis of the National Trust for Historic Preservation. At one time public archaeology (McGimsey 1972) and conservation archaeology (Lipe 1978; Schiffer and Gumerman 1977) were used to describe archaeological heritage management. Today “public archaeology” usually describes public education and programs to involve the general public in archaeological research (McGimsey and Davis 2000), and “conservation archaeology” has fallen out of fashion.
Archaeological sites have both scientific value and humanistic value. Archaeologists and other scientists are typically more interested in the scientific or informational value of the archaeological sites, but many individual people, ethnic groups, and countries of the world are more interested in the humanistic values of the sites. Following Lipe (1984) (cf. Cleere 1989; Darvill 1995; P. Fowler 1992, 1993), archaeological sites have four primary and intersecting values.
As tangible links to the past, archaeological sites allow people to experience and relate directly to their history, and hence have a symbolic value to contemporary peoples. Archaeological sites and other cultural resources have an evocative power that is lacking in documentary sources. Archaeological sites can provide a sense of identity to nations and ethnic groups that share a common history or a presumed common history (Darvill 1995; Fowler 1987; Kristiansen 1998; Kohl and Fawcett 1995; Meskell 2002; Smith 1994). Spiritual and cultural norms are frequently expressed in archaeological sites and can be of special importance to particular communities (Flood 1989; Ndoro and Pwiti 2001).
Archaeological sites have informational value. The material evidence in historic and prehistoric sites may be the only record of past human activities, even in relatively recent times (McGimsey 1984). Archaeologists, as well as avocational archaeologists, other scientists, and historians, are especially interested in the informational value of archaeological sites. This is probably the best known, best understood, and well accepted value of archaeological sites (Lipe 1978).
A high aesthetic value is placed on archaeological sites, especially those with standing architecture or unusual features (such as earthworks, mounds, or dolmans). Southwestern pueblos in the United States make up the majority of Native American archaeological sites managed by the National Park Service. Standing stone walls in scenic canyons offer an aesthetic experience of past life easily visible to the public. This is not to say these sites do not have scientific or other values, because they do, but it is their aesthetic appeal and attraction for tourists that dictates the large amounts of time, resources, and attention these world renowned sites receive. Many other equally significant archaeological sites are not well represented in the National Park System precisely because they lack such aesthetic appeal to the broad public. Sites in the southeastern United States, once home to large prehistoric settlements boasting platform mounds, moats, and stockades, are today planted in cotton, soy beans, and rice. Such sites, while significant and easily interpreted, lack the aesthetic charm of southwestern pueblos, and only a few with unusually large or numerous mounds have been included in the national park system.
Finally, archaeological sites have economic value resulting from their associative, aesthetic, and informational value. People want to visit heritage sites, and archaeological sites in particular. Tourism is one of the largest industries in the world, and heritage tourism is one of the largest sectors of the industry. For many countries, such as Mexico, Egypt, and Great Britain, tourism is a major part of the economy. In the United States, cultural resources of all types, including archaeological sites, support a billion-dollar industry in the state of New Mexico alone (New Mexico Office of Cultural Affairs 1995). Archaeological sites also contain valuable artifacts, and some communities and individuals make their living, or at least augment it, by digging and selling artifacts.
It is important to stress that these values are ascribed to archaeological sites and cultural resources and are neither inherent nor inherently obvious in the resource (Leone and Potter 1992; Lipe 1984). Archaeological research is needed to determine the informational value of sites. Consultation with contemporary people who may be associated or affiliated with a particular region is needed to determine what other values may be attributed to individual archaeological sites.
The differing values of archaeological resources create conflicts over how sites are preserved and used. There are conflicts between preservationists and developers, preservationists and tourists, archaeologists and indigenous peoples, archaeologists and local communities, curators and archaeologists, local governments and tribal governments, and local governments and national governments (Robles 1998). To quote Laurajane Smith (1994:302), “Heritage management involves managing and mitigating conflict over archaeological sites and places.”
Archaeological resource legislation is aimed at providing broad policy and legally mandated planning processes to resolve, or at least reduce, these conflicts. Two primary types of laws address these issues: (1) laws protecting archaeological sites from looting and vandalism by individuals and (2) laws that mandate a planning process to resolve land use conflicts that arise when archaeological sites are threatened by a development project of some sort. In the United States, the Antiquities Act of 1906 and the Archaeological Resource Protection Act of 1979 prohibit the removal of artifacts from archaeological sites on federal land and reserve their ownership to the federal government (Elia 1993; King 1998; McManamon 2000). These laws establish the public policy that archaeological sites and artifacts are valued by the general public and should remain in public ownership. Most nations have similar laws protecting archaeological sites from looting, although, unlike the United States, many nations claim archaeological sites on private land as belonging to the nation’s cultural patrimony (Fowler 1986a; Knudson 1995; Soon Tay 1985).
Planning laws and regulations provide systems of mandatory consultation to resolve land use conflicts and to determine the paramount values and uses for the archaeological sites in question, but they do not mandate the in situ preservation of archaeological sites, although this is frequently the result. In the United States, Section 106 of the National Historic Preservation Act and the National Environmental Policy Act establish planning processes federal agencies are required to complete to prevent inadvertent destruction of archaeological sites and other cultural resources and to resolve conflicts over their use and preservation (King 1998). In England, Planning Policy Document 16 establishes a planning process to evaluate the impacts of development projects on archaeological sites (Wainwright 1993, 2000).
Archaeological heritage management involves conflicts over issues other than land use and looting. There are also conflicts between professional archaeologists and various local communities and indigenous groups concerning the excavation of archaeological sites, the interpretation of archaeological information, and the distribution of that information. The growing influence of Native American tribes in archaeological preservation and interpretation in the United States (Ferguson 1996) has brought the symbolic and religious values of archaeological sites to the forefront in archaeological preservation decisions. Even the nomenclature used to describe sites is changing to accommodate Indian concerns. For example, the term “Anasazi,” a Navajo word meaning ancient enemy, is being replaced with “Early Pueblo” or “Ancestral Pueblo” to designate sites in the Southwest (Thomas 2000:206). In the southeastern United States, the United Southeastern Tribes refer to Indian archaeological sites as American Indian cultural sites, as they feel the term “archaeological sites” implies they will be excavated in the future and stresses the informational value of the sites over the symbolic value. Even the term “prehistory” is criticized for implying that Indians lacked real history until the arrival of Europeans (Robinson 1994).
Traditions concerning the uses of historic and prehistoric artifacts and human remains differ widely among the cultures of the world. Indigenous belief systems must be taken into consideration in the formation of cultural resource management policies. In the United States and Australia, in particular, indigenous peoples have insisted on the repatriation of human remains and associated funerary objects, and other objects of cultural patrimony (Jones and Harris 1998; Mulvaney 1991; Rose et al. 1996). A satisfactory balance between archaeologists, the interests of the broader society, and the needs of individual communities has not yet been reached. These are among the most controversial issues facing heritage managers today (Suagee 1999). Conflicts are heightened in countries with recent histories of social injustice. Consultation between archaeologists, governmental entities, and local communities is essential to the success of preservation efforts in these situations.
At the International level, UNESCO and the International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS), a private organization advising UNESCO, have produced charters establishing standards for site management and preservation (Cleere 2000; US/ICOMOS 1999). Two primary documents guiding heritage management are the 1964 Venice Charter adopted by ICOMOS, and the 1970 Convention Concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage. In 1990, ICOMOS produced the Charter for the Protection and Management of the Archaeological Heritage establishing international standards for archaeological heritage protection and management. UNESCO manages the World Heritage List, which recognizes cultural and natural sites of world significance. Through the World Heritage Fund it also provides financial assistance for various preservation projects at these sites.
While UNESCO’s charters provide international standards, cultural and archaeological resource management is conducted under the laws of individual nations (Soon Tay 1985). Nations must make a multitude of complex decisions regarding the management of cultural resources. They must determine ownership of individual artifacts and collections; oversee excavation permits and arrange for the use and care of resulting artifacts and records; mediate controversial issues such as the excavation of graves and human remains; allocate responsibility for funding archaeological excavations in advance of construction projects; and determine the extent of involvement of various interested parties such as indigenous peoples in the decision making process.
Archaeologists attempt to manage and protect archaeological sites in three primary management environments. The first is the consideration of archaeological sites in advance of individual construction or development projects. When sites are threatened by construction projects, planning statutes usually require government agencies or private developers to address the impact of such projects on archaeological sites. Planning statutes require some assessment of presence and significance of archaeological sites in the project area, as well as consultation with interested parties and the development of treatment or mitigation plans. The second management environment is the management and protection of archaeological sites on lands set aside for the long-term preservation of natural and cultural resources. For example, the U.S. government manages millions of hectares of public lands, national forests, wildlife refuges, national parks, and military bases. The missions of the federal agencies that manage these lands differ, but Section 110 of the National Historic Preservation Act requires all landholding federal agencies to develop preservation programs to inventory, evaluate, protect, and preserve significant archaeological sites on lands they manage whether or not they are threatened by an individual project. The third management situation is the long-term preservation of archaeological sites on lands where archaeological sites have no legal protection. This is difficult in nations with strong private property traditions, such as the United States and United Kingdom. Nevertheless, state environmental laws, city and county zoning powers, easements, and outright purchase by land trusts are methods used to preserve archaeological sites on private lands in the United States (King 1998; Michel 1997; Neumann and Sanford 2001:49–51; Simon 1994). In the United Kingdom, county planning offices use similar techniques (Macinnes 1993).
In any management environment knowledge is crucial for the successful preservation of archaeological sites. Agencies need to know where the sites are, which are significant, why they are significant, and to whom they are significant. An inventory of significant cultural resources is the primary basis for archaeological site preservation in all types of management situations.
Archaeological sites do not have equal value, and choices have to be made over which sites to preserve in situ, which to excavate, and which to ignore. Many countries have developed criteria to determine the significance of cultural resources. These criteria vary from country to country, and there is a host of literature debating the pros and cons of the criteria developed (Breeze 1993; Briuer and Mathers 1996; Butler 1987; Hardesty and Little 2000; Leone and Potter 1992; Mathers et al. 2005). Even in countries that do not have formal systems for deciding which sites are significant, or in large development projects where hundreds of archaeological sites might be destroyed, some system must be developed to decide which sites deserve preservation action (Thompson 1982).
A basic requirement for assigning significance of archaeological sites is some sort of regional archaeological overview summarizing what is known about the prehistory or history of a region to provide context to judge the archaeological significance of an individual archaeological site (Schofield 2000). In the United States, the Southwest Division of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and the Department of Defense funded a series of such overviews covering more than one-third of the United States (Green and Limp 1995). These overviews were written by leading scholars and provided an up-to-date assessment of archaeological knowledge of the region coupled with extensive bibliographies and maps. The overviews provide critical information for judging archaeological site significance, for developing research designs for mitigation projects, and for developing archaeological management plans. However, they provide archaeological context from a purely scholarly point of view. They do not provide information that would be helpful to determine the significance of archaeological sites to local communities or to Indian tribes in the region. They have proven to be useful documents, nevertheless.
Information about archaeological sites and projects is frequently stored in computer databases linked to GIS systems (Anderson and Horak 1995; Fraser 1993; Limp 2000; Maschner 1996; Wheatley 1995). One of the direct benefits of CRM archaeology, at least in the United States, is the organization of archaeological information (Brose 1985). Until the federal funding of the state historic preservation offices in the mid-1970s, there was no one institution charged with maintaining basic inventories of archaeological site information, archives, and archaeological reports. It was done on an ad hoc basis. Usually the dominant archaeological institution in each state maintained archaeological site inventory and issued site numbers. In some states this was a state museum. In other states it was a university or a state-funded archaeology survey organization. Many of these institutions did an excellent job with no mandate and no funding. However, confusion existed in some states as more than one institution (dominancy could not be established) issued numbers for the same site. Today it is rare to find a state that does not have a computerized archaeological site database, and increasingly with funding from the enhancement provisions of the Federal Highway Act, these databases are linked to GIS systems and in some cases available via the Internet. In other countries with developing CRM systems, the organization of information is one of the first actions taken (Palumbo 1993).
Archaeological databases require standardized methods for recording artifacts and archaeological sites, and for reporting the methods and results of archaeological surveys. Such standardization of reporting formats can be criticized for forcing predesigned typologies on observations. However, with the availability of relatively inexpensive computer power and memory capabilities, databases can be designed with great flexibility, and field notes, site forms, photographs, and even videos can be included (Hodder 1997). These capabilities allow researchers to evaluate the quality of the data and reorganize the information based on their individual research needs.
In the United Kingdom, there are many institutions that store and collate archaeological data, from large organizations such as English Heritage to smaller ones like the West Yorkshire Archaeology Service or the Greater London Sites and Monuments Record. In order to centralize these databases, a comprehensive data-collating service in the United Kingdom has been established relatively recently. Called the Archaeology Data Service (http://ads.ahds.ac.uk), it is dedicated to cataloguing the Internet resources available to archaeologists together into a single searchable database. The ADS also encourages professional archaeologists to contribute to the Internet database and provides guidelines for how to contribute data electronically. The key is planning, so that each contribution is a relevant, useful resource in the long term. This means deciding what to create, how much work to create and digitize, how to organize it, and how to add metadata in making it available. The metadata (e.g., keywords, abstracts, and other referencing tags) are the key to this process.
The successful preservation of archaeological sites either in a project situation or a long-term land management situation requires detailed planning. In the United States, state historic preservation offices are charged with developing statewide historic preservation plans (King 1998; Potter 1994), and federal agency regulations usually require preservation plans for lands they manage (Anderson 1992; U.S. Army 1998). These plans usually include an overview of what is known and not known about the prehistory and history of an area, an inventory of recorded sites, lists and summaries of previous archaeological projects, digital or paper maps showing the locations of archaeological sites, and past surveys and projects. Frequently standards for recording sites and conducting archaeological research are included. In addition, the federal plans contain descriptions of legal compliance procedures and consultation protocols. They identify threats to cultural resources from current or future development, erosion and other natural processes, and looting. Plans and priorities for future research needed to protect and manage cultural resources are frequently included. These plans must be integrated into the basic land-use plans of the agency and they must be updated on a regular basis to be effective management tools.
Another important element in the management of archaeological resources is the preservation and care of archaeological collections, field notes, photographs, databases, and related documents (Fowler and Givens 1995; Sullivan 2001). One of the justifications for the excavation of archaeological sites in the face of planned destruction is that the information contained in the site will be recovered for future generations of researchers. However, if adequate care is not given to collections and documents that give meaning to the collections, the site might as well have been bulldozed away. Great expense is involved in providing state-of-the-art, climate-controlled, and secure environments for storage, processing, and use of such collections. The conservation of leather, metal, and other perishable artifacts is expensive and takes trained people. The establishment and funding of curation facilities is a critical worldwide problem and has not kept pace with the growing archaeological collections produced by CRM projects. One approach may be to enable field archaeologists themselves to conserve materials. English Heritage, for example, is devoted to developing a digital library of relevant documents such as research agendas for major sites such as Avebury, guidance in specific areas of archaeological practice such as archaeological sampling, conservation of waterlogged materials, other artifacts and human bones, postexcavation procedures, paleoenvironmental material, archaeometallurgy, geophysical survey, and so on.
Recently in the United States, federal agencies, universities, and state archaeological surveys have upgraded their archaeological collection facilities due to the requirements of the Native American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act of 1990 (NAGPRA) (Rose et al. 1996). NAGPRA requires institutions receiving federal funds to prepare inventories of Native American human remains, associated and unassociated funerary objects, sacred objects, and objects of cultural patrimony. In order to do this, many federal agencies had to first find their collections that were often stored in dismal conditions at universities. Due to NAGPRA, boxes of archaeological materials that had not been opened in years needed to be inventoried, and in many cases, washed and catalogued. It was not uncommon to discover the field notes from a major excavation might still be in the hands of the original excavator now employed at some other institution. It was, and in some cases still is, a wretched situation that federal agencies have spent millions of dollars trying to rectify (Marino and Trimble 2001).
The preservation of archaeological resources is dependent on the interest and continuing support of the general public. UNESCO and ICOMOS charters stress that the success of local and national preservation initiatives are dependent on programs educating the public about the value of cultural resources. Heritage education in the public schools is required in many countries to foster a preservation ethic and pride in national heritage. In the United States, federal agencies are required to have public education programs to combat looting, and they often cooperate with other preservation organizations in publicity campaigns to promote site preservation (Lerner and Hoffman 2000; Moe 2000). In the United Kingdom, public awareness of national archaeology is enhanced by popular television shows such as Time Team, but more comprehensively by institutions such as English Heritage, which provide educational resources, courses, and events, as well as supporting educators and hosting educational groups and public events to foster awareness of the national archaeological (in addition to historical) heritage. In some nations, archaeological sites represent a cultural heritage different from the majority of the contemporary inhabitants. For example, foreign visitors often value Roman and Byzantine ruins in modern Islamic countries and Native American sites in the United States more than local communities do (Fowler 1986a; Shunnaq and Reid 2000). In these situations education about the values and economic uses of these resources is especially important.
Archaeological research is an essential part of archaeological heritage management. Preservation laws recognize that archaeological sites contain information important to the wider society (Lipe 1978). However, this information is not obvious, and what is considered important changes over time in response to developments in archaeological method and theory and in changes in the broader society. Archaeological research is needed to locate sites in a given project area, and surveys should be based on knowledge of local geomorphology and prior archaeological and archival research. Research, through a combination of geophysical remote sensing and subsurface test excavations, is needed to determine the nature of archaeological sites and to assign meaningful research values to them. This requires a detailed knowledge of both the regional archaeology and current archaeological method and theory (Elston 1992; Hardesty 1986). If the site cannot be preserved in situ, a research design must be carefully crafted to guide the recovery of significant archaeological information. The more one knows about a particular site and its significance in a regional context, the more public support can be garnered to protect the site and better decisions can be made about its preservation or treatment. Nothing sours agency and public support of archaeology more quickly than overblown significance statements, silly or jargon-laden research designs, and poorly executed field programs. State-of-the-art research is the foundation of good management and preservation.
That said, there are differences in how archaeological research is conducted in a CRM environment and how research is conducted in a grant-funded academic environment, although these differences are frequently overstated. One of the biggest differences between CRM-sponsored archaeological research and grant-funded research is the goal of the sponsors of the research. The vast majority of CRM research is sponsored by entities whose goal is the construction of a highway, dam, or mall, or the extraction of minerals and other natural resources. The consideration of archaeological sites and other cultural resources is forced on them by preservation laws, and once the requirements of these laws are satisfied their support of archaeological research ends. The goal of the archaeological project in CRM is not necessarily gaining new information about the past, but evaluating the effects of the construction project on archaeological and other cultural resources; and if significant cultural resources are present, to devise measures to mitigate the effects of the project on such properties. A sponsor’s support will stop if no sites are found in the project area, or if the sites found in the project area are deemed not to be significant either from a research point of view or from any other value that might be associated with the sites in question. If significant sites will be affected by the project, mitigation measures may include redesigning the project or devising some other means, such as site burial, to avoid impacts to the archaeological sites. If the sites can be protected in some fashion, archaeological research will stop at this point. If this is not possible, only then will it be necessary to continue archaeological research and excavate the site and preserve the information it contains.
However, it is rare, at least in the United States, for a site to be completely excavated if it is going to be destroyed. The research design and the scale of the excavation are negotiated among the sponsors and the governmental agencies reviewing and permitting the work. The research design, sometimes called the data recovery plan in the United States, is always a compromise between the cost of the research, the time available to conduct the research, the overall significance of the site in question, and the available public support. As an aside, many Native Americans tribes have been shocked by the willingness of archaeologists and agencies to excavate so little and allow large portions of sites to be destroyed. They have argued that if the site, and the record of their heritage, is going to be destroyed, at least collect as much information as possible (Robinson 1994:92).
It is often noted that one of the main differences between CRM-sponsored archaeological research and traditional grant-funded research is that the research boundary is dictated in CRM research (Elston 1992; McGimsey and Davis 1977:25–26; Schiffer and Gumerman 1977:81). This is true, and only rarely will funding be provided to conduct research outside the impact area. The CRM-employed archaeologist must create a research project around the archaeological sites to be impacted by a particular project. These sites may be historic or prehistoric; they may be seasonally occupied campsites or regional political centers. Knowledge of the regional archaeology, knowledge of contemporary archaeological methods and theories, and a great deal of creativity are necessary to develop sound research programs in the short time periods allowed in CRM-sponsored research.
While it is true the project area is given in a CRM project, it is not true archaeologists involved in academic or grant-funded research can excavate whatever and wherever they wish. There are constraints placed on academic research based on the competing values of archaeological sites. For example, it is unlikely the Mexican government will allow archaeologists to dismantle a major tourist attraction such as the Pyramid of the Sun at Teotihuacan just because they have a good research design and the funding to do it. In the eastern United States, currently there are major constraints on the excavation of Native American mounds because of the sacred nature of mounds and the presence of human remains. Most state laws require consultation with Native Americans before burial removal permits are approved. If the tribes object it is unlikely that state agencies will issue the necessary legal permits to excavate graves without some overriding reason. In fact, it is more likely that a mound will be excavated in a CRM project than in a traditional academic one, as presumably the decision to destroy a mound will be made because there is some overriding public benefit to a particular project, such as clean water. Also, traditional grant-funded research may be severely limited in natural areas set aside for conservation. For example, archaeological research is constrained in designated wilderness areas in the United States. This is not to say it is prohibited (Hackenberger 1988; Holmer 1989), but it is unlikely federal permits will be issued for block excavations that will destroy large areas of native vegetation. Finally, the politics of obtaining permits in different countries may prevent certain archaeologists or institutions from being allowed to work at particular sites. There is a great deal of competition between archaeologists to obtain permits to conduct research in some parts of the world, such as the Middle East. Nevertheless, while there are constraints on grant-funded academic research, archaeologists can generally define their research agenda as long as the archaeological sites involved are valued primarily for their informational value and are not located in areas having other significant values.
CRM research must operate within strict deadlines. This is an advantage in that projects will be completed and reports will be written, which is not always the case in academic or grant-funded research. However, frequently there is little time to reflect or to pursue new research avenues within the contract deadlines. If something unexpected and of unusual significance is discovered during a CRM project, it is possible to redesign the research objectives and renegotiate the deadlines for the fieldwork if there is support from project sponsors and regulatory agencies.
CRM-sponsored research is commonly conducted in phases reflecting the environmental review and project permitting process, or the funding cycles of project sponsors. Archaeological surveys and significance evaluations can take place years earlier than the mitigation or treatment phases of a project, but this is no different that many grant-funded projects. It is also not uncommon, at least in the United States, for different archaeological consulting firms to do different phases of a project. Switching contractors in the middle of a project is normally not a good practice unless the competency of the original firm is questioned. It increases the cost of the archaeological project as it takes additional time for the new contractor to review past archaeological work, and no matter how good the notes, photographs, and available reports, they are never enough to fully inform a new researcher about the previous research.
One of the most important differences between CRM-sponsored archaeological research and academic research is that after a CRM project the archaeological site may be completely destroyed. It is not possible to recheck a profile drawing, look for better radiocarbon samples, or expand the excavation to follow a line of post holes discovered only after individual unit maps were put together in the laboratory. This places a great responsibility on the archaeologist to collect and document as much information as possible and to report that information in the most detailed fashion. It also means that all components of a site should be addressed in the research design. Of course, an academic archaeologist also bears the responsibility to record as much information as possible and to collect information from components that may not be part of the research design. However, in a CRM context this is usually a legal responsibility, while in an academic context it is an ethical responsibility.
CRM projects usually receive adequate funding. In fact, the funding of archaeological research in many CRM projects is well beyond what is available from granting agencies funding archaeological research. And, it needs to be. In many cases CRM research is a one-shot opportunity; the sites will be destroyed after the archaeologist is finished. The funding provides the CRM archaeologist with the means to hire specialists in geomorphology, geophysical remote sensing, faunal, floral, and protein residue analysis, among others, and to obtain multiple radiocarbon assays. In the United States, the scale of CRM projects, such as the Chief Joseph project in the state of Washington, FAI-270 in Illinois, Deloras in southeast Colorado, Black Mesa in Arizona, and the Tennessee-Tombigbee project in Alabama, were well beyond the scope of grant-funded research (Adovasio and Carlisle 1988). This is not to say that large research projects are impossible outside of a CRM context, but raising the money for such projects can be difficult, and the archaeologists running such projects may spend more time writing grant applications and fund-raising than doing archaeology.
CRM-sponsored archaeological research has a solid legal foundation that usually requires a developer or project proponent to pay for whatever archaeological research is considered necessary to inventory and evaluate the significance of archaeological sites, and, if necessary, to mitigate the impacts of the project on archaeological sites. Reports about the project are also required, and fees are included for laboratory work and writing. In contrast, salvage archaeology is the practice of salvaging information from archaeological sites with no legal protection and no funding. Despite statements of its demise, old-fashioned salvage archaeology still exists, at least in the United States and other countries where archaeological preservation laws fail to protect sites located on private land.
The crisis of site preservation (Davis 1972) has not gone away despite the growth of CRM around the world. In the United States archaeological sites on private land are not protected from farming, privately funded housing subdivisions, shopping centers, and industrial sites, except in a few states that have NEPA-like laws and those rare communities that have used their zoning powers to protect such sites. In the Mississippi River valley, the relentless efforts to precision level rice, cotton, and soybean fields destroys significant archaeological sites every year. Land leveling occurs on private land, and is funded with private money. Only if a wetland is filled is a federal permit needed that triggers federal preservation law. In the past ten years the Arkansas Archaeological Survey has conducted emergency excavations every year at sites threatened and eventually destroyed by land leveling, housing subdivisions, industrial development, erosion, and looting. Salvage excavations are almost always emergency excavations because there are no legal requirements for notification. The interested public and archaeologists find out about the project when bulldozers and land-leveling equipment are parked on a known site. Occasionally, workers will call an archaeologist when discoveries are made, but they are under no obligation to do so.
Despite the emergency nature of the work and the lack of funding, salvage archaeology results in significant discoveries and new information. The discovery of a Paleoindian grave in Idaho (Green et al. 1998), and what is currently the oldest cemetery in the New World in Arkansas (Morse 1997), resulted from salvage excavations. It is not known how many archaeological sites are destroyed each year in the United States by construction projects that fail to trigger federal, state, or local preservation laws, but it must be in the thousands.
In England, such emergency archaeology is less common because English Heritage policies make archaeological considerations integral to local planning. Under procedures set out in 1990, developers themselves are expected to make provision for carrying out archaeological investigation as part of their planning for all proposed developments, including a desk-based assessment and field-based evaluation of the archaeological impact of the proposal. If a site is to be irrevocably destroyed, then the developer is expected to arrange for appropriate excavation and recording.
Site protection and impact research is also an essential part of research in cultural resource management (Nickens 2000; Wildesen 1982). Some examples of preservation research include work at Petra to preserve the sandstone facades (Paradise 2000), research to preserve earthwork features (Jones and Simpson 1995), and research to preserve rock art (Loubser 2001). Additionally, research is conducted on techniques to protect archaeological sites from water level fluctuations in reservoirs and rivers (Thorne 1991, 1994), on suitable methods and materials to bury archaeological sites (Canti 1999; Mathewson et al. 1992), and on the effects of fire on sites (Lentz et al. 1996). Research has also been conducted on the best use of signs to notify the public that archaeological sites are legally protected (Nickens 1993).
UNESCO provides grants and helps fund preservation training institutes such as the International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of Cultural Property (ICCROM) (Erder 1986). The J. Paul Getty Conservation Institute sponsors international workshops and symposiums, and provides grants for preservation research (www.getty.edu). Many individual countries have their own preservation research institutes. In the United Kingdom, a major preservation institute is English Heritage, which is dedicated to identifying sites, buildings, and landscapes of special national and local significance. Concerning archaeological monuments, English Heritage advises local authorities on implications of planning applications, and publishes an annual report on buildings and ancient monuments that are at risk from neglect. It then distributes grants accordingly to preserve these monuments. The Mexican National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) recently established an archaeological documentation research and training center in Oaxaca. In the United States, the National Park Service’s National Center for Preservation, Technology, and Training is a center for preservation research and has a grant program (www.ncptt.nps.gov). The Center for Cultural Site Preservation Technology, a division of the Waterways Experiment Station, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, has conducted and sponsored a great deal of research on impacts to archaeological sites and basic site preservation (www.wes.army/el/ccspt/ccspt.html).
Many of the basic research issues and critiques of CRM-sponsored archaeological research have not changed in thirty years. Some of the frequently mentioned criticisms include boilerplate research designs that only marginally fit the research area or the sites involved; mindless compliance with government field survey, testing, and excavation standards; overblown significance statements; sloppy and spurious analysis; canned reports that are never published or distributed; small projects producing meaningless information; unreasonable deadlines preventing in-depth analysis or little time to reflect and change research strategies; and inadequate preservation and mitigation treatments resulting in destroyed sites and information (Elston 1992; Fowler 1986b; King 1979; McGimsey and Davis 1977; Schiffer and Gumerman 1977; Shott 1992).
Most archaeologists know of CRM projects where these criticisms are justified. They know, because CRM-sponsored archaeological projects are public. The research design, the research methods, and the results are open to scrutiny, which is not always the case in grant-funded archaeological research (Elston 1992:39). There are many reasons for poor research results in CRM-sponsored archaeology (Elston 1992, 1997; Green and Doershuk 1998). These include sponsors seeking to pay as little as possible to meet the minimal standards; agency procurement methods; CRM firms and universities willing to conduct substandard research, or not knowing what standard research is; and the current review system and lack of effective peer review (Lipe 1978).
Many of the criticisms of CRM-sponsored archaeological research listed above are directed at small projects, where routine methods and techniques are followed to comply with government field guidelines (Elston 1992). If followed mindlessly, the standards and guidelines for these surveys can lead to quite frivolous results and sometimes serious consequences for the archaeological record and the project sponsor. It is also true that many CRM projects are too small to independently produce meaningful results. In the United States, state historic preservation offices review thousands of small archaeological survey projects each year for cell towers, timber sales, range projects, and others. Most of the sites discovered in these surveys are avoided by redesigning the project, and no further archaeological research occurs. Projects like these are described (Fowler and Jennings 1982:113) as a “mindless search for localities.” It is also called “flag and avoid archaeology.” Nevertheless, as Robert Elston (1992) has pointed out, archaeological sites discovered in these surveys are usually spared total destruction, and the knowledge of the sites and the artifacts from these sites are used in contemporary research. They also contribute to the overall site inventory and the inventory of localities where archaeological sites do not exist, which is just as important.
In recent years the widespread availability of GIS software has dramatically increased the research value of these small surveys. This technology allows small surveys to be placed in a regional context. Researchers can quickly map the settlement history of a region through time and characterize the relationships between sites. Powerful predictive models of site location can be developed taking advantage of not only the location of known sites but also the locations of surveyed areas where sites were not present. Archaeological survey methods can be tailored to particular environmental zones based on a detailed analysis of these previous surveys. As a management tool, GIS can quickly show areas that have been surveyed, place sites and projects on agency planning documents, and when coupled with other planning documents show areas of future development and disturbance (Wheatley 1995; Maschner 1996; Limp 2000).
One of the persistent criticisms of CRM-sponsored research is that the results of the research are not published and are available only as government documents with restricted distribution (Elston 1992; Lipe and Redman 1996; Renfrew 1983). It is true that most CRM reports are not published or widely distributed, but reports actually do get written as a requirement of the contract. Funding is available to pay people to conduct laboratory analysis and write reports, which is not always true for grant-funded research, and never true for salvage research and archaeological field schools. In the United States, the state historic preservation offices or state archaeological surveys have copies of almost all archaeological reports produced in their states, and these are available, increasingly via the Internet, to qualified researchers (Gilson 2001). Many states have citation databases. The National Park Service also maintains the National Archaeological Database containing references to more than one-half million archaeological reports (Cannouts 1994). Many CRM firms maintain and make available to other researchers copies of their reports. CRM reports can be found and used, but most are not published in the normal sense of the word.
Why aren’t CRM reports published? One reason is they are not usually written in a style or format that will be accepted by university presses or state monograph series, much less commercial presses. For large mitigation projects, the reports are just too large for most publishers who rarely want a manuscript larger than three hundred typewritten pages. Also, despite all the wringing of hands about the “gray literature” problem, there really isn’t much of a market for most of these reports. The Arkansas Archaeological Survey publishes a variety of different types of archaeological monographs. It produces 250 copies, and it is a rare monograph that will need reprinting. The new ability to print CDs on personal computers and the ease of publishing on the Internet may solve this problem for major CRM projects (Doelle 2001; Drennan 2001; Lipe and Redman 1996). However, English Heritage actually identifies the growing number of unregulated Internet reports as part of the gray literature problem, and English Heritage is devoted to collating a database of information that includes not only its own projects but also those of UNESCO and other national and international bodies. English Heritage then identifies where crucial gaps in the current coverage lie and prioritizes archaeological projects accordingly.
Nevertheless, the results of many CRM projects do end up as peer-reviewed books and articles. During the 1970s and 1980s thousands of small archaeological surveys were conducted on federal land in Wyoming as energy companies were racing to discover new sources of natural gas. Private CRM firms were spawned to conduct archaeological surveys of individual well pads, and thousands of kilometers of new pipelines on public lands. Most of the sites discovered during these surveys were recorded and avoided. However, some were excavated, and CRM-sponsored research discovered previously unknown semisubterranean houses built on the Wyoming plains by mobile hunters and gatherers, most commonly between 4500 and 6000 B.P. Individual reports documenting this new information were submitted to state and federal agencies. Eventually this disparate information was pulled together and published in Plains Anthropologist (Larson 1997). The discovery and documentation of these structures led to new conceptions of plains archaeology, and the eventual publication of this research in a widely respected journal is a direct result of CRM-sponsored investigations.
A series of books edited by David Anderson and various colleagues critically reviews and summarizes the existing archaeological knowledge of the southeastern United States (Anderson and Sassaman 1996; Sassaman and Anderson 1996; Anderson and Mainfort 2002). If one peruses the citations in these volumes, it is apparent that much of the substantive new knowledge about the Southeast came from CRM projects. These examples (and hundreds more could be cited) show that information from heritage projects is used and does contribute critical new information about the past.
Much of this information does end up in the hands of the public. Many CRM firms welcome visitors to excavations, and develop handouts and fliers explaining the significance of the site and the goals and methods of the research. They also provide time for their archaeologists to give presentations to local service clubs, historical societies, and public schools. A new development is that some CRM firms, such as Statistical Research in Tucson, Arizona, now have public education divisions with dedicated personnel (www.sricrm.com).
There have been many suggestions for ways to improve the quality of CRM-sponsored research, and many of these have been adopted. These include more rigorous standards and guidelines for fieldwork, regional research designs (Fowler and Jennings 1982:113; King 1977; McGimsey 1972; McGimsey and Davis 1977), the creation of regional advisory boards for state and federal agencies (Lipe 1978), and more comprehensive education programs at universities (Blanton 1995; Green and Doershuk 1998; Schuldenrein 1995). All of these suggestions will improve the overall quality of both CRM research and grant-funded research. However, the main problem is the review system in CRM or the lack of a peer review system comparable to that in academic grant-funded research (Lipe 1978).
A form of peer review was the creation of the Society of Professional Archaeologists (SOPA), newly reconstituted as the Register of Professional Archaeologists (RPA) in the United States (www.rpanet.org), and the Institute of Field Archaeologists (IFA) in the United Kingdom (www.archaeologists.net). Both organizations set minimum educational and experiential requirements for membership and require members to agree to a code of conduct and standards of research practices (Davis 1982; King 1983; McGimsey 2002). Both organizations have grievance committees to investigate charges of violations of their codes and standards. If the charges are valid, the membership of the offending party is revoked. Over the years, the main problem with SOPA was that too few archaeologists actually joined the organization, and most federal agencies and state historic preservation offices refused and still refuse to require membership for archaeologists they hired either as employees or as contractors (King 1987). Membership in RPA now exceeds that of SOPA, and a stronger organization will be useful. Membership in IFA is open, and in fact encouraged, for both professional and amateur archaeologists in the United Kingdom.
Over the years, there has been a persistent call for the development of a peer review system in archaeological heritage management to upgrade the quality of research conducted under contract (Elston 1992; Green and Doershuk 1998; Lipe 1978; Schiffer and Gumerman 1977). Lipe (1978) explored the differences in quality control mechanisms between CRM and academic research, and concluded the biggest difference was the lack of an effective independent peer review system in CRM-sponsored research.
A form of peer review does exist in the U.S. system, but there is tremendous political pressure on the reviewers to approve or comment favorably on reports. Archaeological project review is conducted by archaeologists working for federal agencies that fund or require the research and by archaeologists working for the state historic preservation offices (SHPO). Agencies can and do reject low-quality research, and many federal agencies refuse to contract with CRM firms with poor performance records. Technically, state historic preservation offices only “comment” on whether a report meets the secretary of interior’s standards for historic preservation projects and any state guidelines in effect. However, these comments do have legal and regulatory consequences for federal agencies. If an agency archaeologist rejects a report, or if a SHPO comments negatively on a CRM report, it can lead to additional archaeological work and delays in the implementation of the sponsor’s projects. Delays usually cause increased project costs, which leads to irate sponsors who are federal and state agencies, local communities, and private corporations. Hence, there is tremendous pressure on agency and SHPO archaeologists to approve reports.
The state historic preservation offices provide independent review of agency and client-sponsored research, but there are many problems with SHPO review (Elston 1992, 1997; Green and Doershuk 1998). SHPOs are state employees appointed by the governor, although some states have legislation dictating a specific agency director as SHPO, such as the director of a state historical agency. The archaeologists hired by SHPOs to review projects are frequently the lowest-paid archaeologists in the CRM system. They are overworked and may review literally thousands of projects a year. They rarely, if ever, get to the field or conduct archaeology on their own. They are challenged for every decision they make. If they reject a report, they have to answer to both the sponsor and their politically appointed boss, the SHPO, who does not want the political pressure and a visit from the governor’s representative. CRM firms criticize SHPO both for rejecting reports and/or for approving a shoddy competitor’s report. Finally, they rarely have support from the profession to sustain their decisions. What is surprising is that many SHPO archaeologists actually do a good job in this environment. This same situation must exist for reviewers in other countries where the project sponsor pays a private archaeological firm to conduct the necessary research to comply with preservation laws.
In the United States, the departmental consulting archaeologist in the Department of Interior can initiate a peer review of a CRM project (Keel 1993). Consultants from academia, agencies, and private firms are hired to review the contract requirements, the methodology, and the fieldwork. Suggestions are made and frequently alterations are made in the project. For reasons of expense, only large or controversial projects are subject to this review.
The Advisory Council on Historic Preservation does have the authority to review federal agency preservation programs and this has been done in the past. However, these reviews only look at the agency’s overall compliance with Section 106 of the U.S. National Historic Preservation Act, they do not comment on the quality of the archaeological research conducted. Also, the U.S. National Park Service periodically reviews the operations of state historic preservation offices to make sure they are in compliance with federal preservation laws.
There are many ways an effective peer review system could be instituted in CRM. Given the volume of archaeological reports produced each year, and the amount of time allowed for their review (30 days for most reports), it would be impossible to peer-review most individual reports. However, the majority of these report the results of inventory and evaluation efforts where either the project is altered to protect the sites or comprehensive excavation is recommended. Given the cost of archaeological excavation, major mitigation reports are less common. Since there is no danger of delaying the project, a peer review of the final report in a fashion similar to those used by professional journals and university presses is possible and appropriate. It may be difficult for an agency or SHPO to get a private CRM firm to conduct more thorough analysis or to rewrite a poor report, and since the site is most likely destroyed at this point, it would be impossible to conduct further excavations. Nevertheless, a bad review will at least be part of the public record and may affect the ability of the firm to gain future contracts. The reviews could be published with the report as has been suggested by McGimsey (1975). Another approach would be to establish independent advisory boards to review problematic reports and make suggestions to SHPOs and agencies (Lipe 1978). Short of formal committees, external reviewers could be used to comment on samples of inventory reports. An effective peer review system would relieve the political pressure on individual SHPO and agency archaeologists charged with reviewing CRM reports.
There are a number of unresolved issues, and possibly unresolvable issues in archaeological heritage management. Looting and the international antiquities trade will probably always be with us despite tougher national and international laws, increased enforcement, and public education efforts (Davis 2001). In many countries, and especially the United States, the destruction of sites on private land threatens the archaeological record of large areas. Although many techniques for preserving sites on private land have been identified (Simon 1994), it takes a tremendous amount of time, effort, and money to be effective. The proper care and curation of the vast quantities of archaeological materials collected through CRM projects is a major problem everywhere in the world. State-of-the-art collection facilities are rare, and most collections are housed in facilities that do not meet basic curation standards.
Nevertheless, there is progress on many fronts. In the United States, the repatriation of human remains and cultural objects has and will result in the loss of scientific information, but it has also encouraged research on human remains and collections that would not have occurred otherwise (Owsley and Rose 1997; Rose et al. 1996; Rose 1999). It has also brought about the development of national standards for recording human remains (Buikstra and Ubelaker 1994), and a national osteological database. Relationships with indigenous peoples and local communities are improving as archaeologists recognize the multiple values of archaeological sites, and make genuine efforts to accommodate local concerns about archaeological research and management (Swidler et al. 1997). In fact, most of the suggestions of the Airlie House symposium (McGimsey and Davis 1977:90–96) for improving relationships between Indians and archaeologists in the United States are in practice in many areas. However, in countries with a history of disregarding indigenous land claims and civil rights, such as the United States, it will take many years for the relationships to move from strictly legal ones to relationships based on trust.
Public education efforts are more widespread and more innovative than in the past (Jameson 1997), frequently taking advantage of the Internet and the capabilities of new computer software and hardware (Sabo et al. 2000). Public education is expensive, and to be effective archaeological institutions need full-time positions dedicated to public education and people trained to do the job. One significant aspect of public education that is rarely mentioned is the day-to-day education efforts of people involved in CRM (cf. McManamon 1991). Agency archaeologists and contract archaeologists, from those in supervisory positions to those in the field, receive a constant barrage of questions about archaeology from developers, government agency personnel, indigenous people, and the general public. At every meeting they attend they have to explain the goals of archaeology, why archaeological sites are important, the field methods of archaeology, the costs of archaeology (and why is it so expensive), and detailed questions about what they are finding and learning. Such questions go to the heart of archaeological heritage management, and they have to be answered in terms the public can understand.
Success also leads to excess. Archaeologists and their supporters have been successful in preserving sites in the national and state park systems, wildlife refuges, and land trusts. Some are preserved on federal lands in the United States through administrative actions. In the United Kingdom, scheduled sites have legal protections not afforded other sites. The preservation ethic is so strong that archaeological research is either not permitted or strongly discouraged at these sites. The philosophy is to save protected sites for the future when there are better methods for recovering information, and archaeological research should focus on sites threatened with destruction and without legal protection. Generally, this good is public policy. However, William Lipe and others argue there are good reasons for excavating at protected sites (Brink 1994; Lipe 1996, 2001). Research helps to substantiate at least one of the arguments made to preserve the site; that is, it contains information important to our understanding of the past. Also, many state and national parks were created for tourism to help local economies. Ongoing research keeps the interpretation current and vital. Visitors want to see excavations, and these are excellent forums for educating the public about the history of a region and the value of archaeological site preservation in general. Most protected sites have regional significance in that they were centers of past of societies, and there are many questions about the past that only can be answered at some these sites. This is not to say that massive excavations need occur at these sites, but geophysical remote sensing coupled with judicious excavations will not have much impact on these sites. While arguing for research at protected sites, Lipe (1996) is careful to emphasize that the impacts should be minimized, other values of the site should be respected, and the public should be informed of the results.
CRM-sponsored archaeological research has made many contributions to archaeology in general (Adovasio and Carlise 1988; Green and Doershuk 1998). It has refined regional chronologies, clarified regional settlement patterns, and contributed new information about the past. In addition, CRM firms have pioneered the use of new technologies. The widespread use of geophysical remote sensing equipment in Great Britain and Europe is the result of CRM research, and it is becoming increasingly common in the United States (Heimmer and De Vore 2000). Finally, the dramatic growth of historic and urban archaeology in the United States in the past twenty-five years can in part be attributed to CRM.
Archaeologists need to remember that archaeological sites have many values, and some of these values conflict with archaeological research, no matter who funds it or why it was funded. Careful and meaningful consultation is necessary to determine how sites are valued to indigenous peoples and local communities. These values may override or at least modify archaeological research designs. Most nations of the world believe archaeological sites are important and should be preserved, or at least, conserved for present and future uses. At the same time everyone desires an improved infrastructure in the form of highways, water treatment plants, and power systems. Archaeological heritage management results from legal systems designed to minimize the conflicts between the goals of economic development and archaeological site preservation, and the goals of archaeological research and the symbolic and cultural values archaeological sites possess.
Hester A. Davis, Thomas F. King, and Charles R. McGimsey kindly gave advice and knowledge. Their suggestions were most valuable, but they are not responsible for any deficiencies in the work.
Adovasio, James M., and Ronald C. Carlisle. 1988. Some thoughts on cultural resource management archaeology in the United States. Antiquity 62: 72–87.
Anderson, David G. 1992. Historic preservation for the future: An introduction to cultural resource management plans. Manuscript on file, Interagency Archeological Services Division, Southeast Regional Office, National Park Service, Atlanta.
Anderson, David G., and Virginia Horak (eds.). 1995. Archaeological site file management: A Southeastern perspective. Interagency Archaeological Services Division, Southeast Regional Office, National Park Service, Atlanta.
Anderson, David G., and Robert C. Mainfort Jr. (eds.). 2002. The Woodland Southeast. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press.
Anderson, David G., and Kenneth E. Sassaman (eds.). 1996. The Paleoindian and Early Archaic Southeast. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press.
Anyon, Roger, and T. J. Ferguson. 1995. Cultural resources management at the Pueblo of Zuni, New Mexico, USA. Antiquity 69: 913–930.
Basso, Keith H. 1996. Wisdom sits in places: Notes on a Western Apache landscape. In Steven Feld and Keith H. Basso, eds., Senses of Place, 53–90. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research Press.
Blanton, Dennis B. 1995. The case for CRM training in academic institutions. SAA Bulletin 13(4): 40–41.
Breeze, David J. 1993. Ancient monuments legislation. In John Hunter and Ian Ralston, eds., Archaeological resource management in the UK: An introduction, 44–55. Phoenix Mill, UK: Sutton/Institute of Field Archaeologists.
Brink, Jack. 1994. An example of in situ preservation of archaeological resources, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump. In Claire Mousseau, ed., Archaeological remains in situ preservation, 5–13. Proceeding of the second ICAHM international conference, ICOMOS international committee on archaeological heritage management.
Briuer, Frederick L., and Clay Mathers. 1996. Trends and patterns in cultural resource significance: An historical perspective and annotated bibliography. U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Water Resources Support Center, Institute of Water Resources Report 96-EL-1. Alexandria, Virginia.
Brose, David S. 1985. Good enough for government work? A study in “Gray Archaeology.” American Anthropologist 87: 370–376.
Buikstra, Jane E., and Douglas H. Ubelaker. 1994. Standards for data collection from human skeletal remains. Archeological Survey Research Series no. 44. Fayetteville, Arkansas.
Butler, William B. 1987. Significance and other frustrations in the CRM process. American Antiquity 52: 820–829.
Canouts, Veletta. 1994. Promoting communication. CRM 17(6): 19–21.
Canti, M. G. 1999. Tests and guidelines for the suitability of sands to be used in archaeological site reburial. Journal of Archaeological Research 26: 775–781.
Cleere, Henry F. 1989. Introduction: The rationale of archaeological heritage management. In Archaeological heritage management in the modern world, 1–19. London, Unwin Hyman.
———. 1993. British Archaeology in a wider context. In John Hunter and Ian Ralston, eds., Archaeological resource management in the UK: An introduction, 115–124. Phoenix Mill, UK: Sutton/Institute of Field Archaeologists.
———. 1995. Cultural landscapes as world heritage. Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites 1: 63–68.
———. 2000. The World Heritage Convention in the third world. In Francis P. and Alf Hatton, eds., Cultural resource management in contemporary society, 99–106. London: Routledge.
Darvill, Timothy. 1995. Value systems in archaeology. In Malcolm A. Cooper, Antony Firth, John Carman, and David Wheatley, eds., Managing archaeology, 40–50. London: Routledge.
Davis, Hester A. 1972. The crises in American archeology. Science 175: 267–272.
———. 1982. Professionalism in archaeology. American Antiquity 47: 158–163.
———. 2001. Facing the crises of looting in the United States. In Neil A. Silberman and Ernest S. Frerichs, eds., Archaeology and society in the 21st century: The Dead Sea Scrolls and other case studies, 155–159. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society.
Doelle, William H. 2001. Publication and preservation: Two imperatives in heritage conservation. In Robert D. Drennan and Santiago Mora, eds., Archaeological research and heritage preservation in the Americas, 26–37. Washington, DC: Society for American Archaeology.
Drennan, Robert D. 2001. Information as patrimony: Where are the results of archaeological research? In Robert D. Drennan and Santiago Mora, eds., Archaeological research and heritage preservation in the Americas. Washington, DC: Society for American Archaeology.
Elia, Ricardo J. 1993. US cultural resource management and the ICAHM charter. Antiquity 67: 426–438.
Elston, Robert G. 1992. Archaeological research in the context of cultural resource management: Pushing back in the 1990s. Journal of California and Great Basin Anthropology 14(1): 37–48.
———. 1997. Issues concerning consulting archaeologists in the United States. SAA Bulletin 15(5): 20–23.
Erder, Cevat. 1986. ICCROM: An international clearinghouse and training center. In Yudhishthir Raj Isar, ed., The challenge to our cultural heritage: Why preserve the past? 131–139. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Feld, Steven, and Keith H. Basso (eds.). 1996. Senses of Place. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research Press.
Ferguson, T. J. 1996. Native Americans and the practice of archaeology. Annual Review of Anthropology 25: 63–79.
Flood, Josephine. 1989. “Tread softly for you tread on my bones”: The development of cultural resource management in Australia. In Henry F. Cleere, ed., Archaeological heritage management in the modern world, 79–96. London: Unwin Hyman.
Fowler, Don D. 1982. Cultural resource management. Advances in Archaeological Method and Theory 5: 1–50.
———. 1986a. Conserving America’s archaeological resources. In David J. Meltzer, Don D. Fowler, and Jeremy A. Sabloff, eds., American archaeology past and future, 135–162. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.
———. 1986b. Cultural resource management in the Great Basin: What have we learned? In Carol J. Condie and Don D. Fowler, eds., Essays in honor of Jesse D. Jennings, 171–178. University of Utah Anthropological Papers no. 110. Salt Lake City.
———. 1987. Uses of the past: Archaeology in the service of the state. American Antiquity 52: 229–248.
Fowler, Don D., and Douglas R. Givens. 1995. The records of archaeology. In Sydel Silverman and Nancy J. Parezo, eds., Preserving the anthropological record, 97–106. New York: Wenner-Gren Foundation.
Fowler, Don D., and Jesse D. Jennings. 1982. Great Basin archaeology: A historical overview. In David B. Madsen and James F. O’Connell, eds., Man and environment in the Great Basin, 105–120. Washington, DC: Society for American Archaeology.
Fowler, Peter J. 1992. The past in contemporary society: Then, now. London: Routledge.
———. 1993. Archaeology in a matrix. In John Hunter and Ian Ralston, eds., Archaeological heritage management in the UK: An introduction, 1–10. Phoenix Mill, UK: Sutton/Institute of Field Archaeologists
Fraser, David. 1993. The British archaeological database. In John Hunter and Ian Ralston, eds., Archaeological heritage management in the UK: An introduction, 19–29. Phoenix Mill, UK: Sutton/Institute of Field Archaeologists.
Gilsen, Leland. 2001. Archaeological gray literature. SAA Archaeological Record 1(5): 30–31.
Green, Thomas J., Bruce Cochran, Todd W. Fenton, James C. Woods, Gene L. Titmus, Larry Tieszen, Mary Anne Davis, and Susanne J. Miller. 1998. The Buhl burial: A Paleoindian woman from southern Idaho. American Antiquity 63: 437–456.
Green, Thomas J., and W. Frederick Limp. 1995. Archaeological overviews: The southwest division overview and the central and northern plains overview and their use in historic preservation. George Wright Forum 12(1): 52–57.
Green, William, and John F. Doershuk. 1998. Cultural resource management and American archaeology. Journal of Archaeological Research 6: 121–167.
Hackenberger, Steven. 1988. Cultural ecology and evolution in central montane Idaho. Ph.D. diss., Washington State University.
Hardesty, Donald J. 1986. Research design. In C. Melvin Aikens, ed., Current status of CRM archaeology in the Great Basin, 193–201. Cultural Resource Series 9. Nevada Bureau of Land Management, USDI.
Hardesty, Donald J., and Barbara J. Little. 2000. Assessing site significance: A guide for archaeologists and historians. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira.
Heimmer, Don H., and Steven L. De Vore. 2000. Near surface, high resolution geophysical methods for cultural resource management and archaeological investigations. In Ray A. Williamson and Paul R. Nickens, Science and Technology in Historic Preservation, 53–73. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum.
Hodder, Ian. 1997. “Always momentary, fluid and flexible”: Towards a reflexive excavation methodology. Antiquity 71: 691–700.
Holmer, Richard N. 1989. Dagger Falls: A preliminary report. Idaho Archaeologist 12(1): 3–14.
Hunter, John, and Ian Ralston. 1993. Preface. In John Hunter and Ian Ralston, eds., Archaeological heritage management in the UK: An introduction, vii–viii. Phoenix Mill, UK: Sutton/Institute of Field Archaeologists.
Jameson, John H. Jr. (ed.). 1997. Presenting archaeology to the public: Digging for truths. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira.
Jones, Gareth D., and Robyn J. Harris. 1998. Archeological human remains. Current Anthropology 39: 253–264.
Jones, Kevin L., and Philip G. Simpson. 1995. Archaeological site stabilisation and vegetation management. Science and Research Series 90. Wellington, New Zealand: Department of Conservation.
Keel, Bennie C. 1993. The peer review of public archeology projects: A procedure developed by the Departmental Consulting Archeologist. Cultural Resources Technical Brief no. 14. Washington, DC: National Park Service.
Kerber, Jordan E. 1994. Introduction. In Jordan E. Kerber, ed., Cultural resource management: Archaeological research, preservation planning, and public education in the northeastern United States, 1–14. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey.
King, Thomas F. 1977. Resolving a conflict of values in American archaeology. In Michael B. Schiffer and George J. Gumerman, eds., Conservation Archaeology, 87–95. New York: Academic.
———. 1979. The trouble with archeology. Journal of Field Archaeology 6: 351–352.
———. 1983. Professional responsibility in public archaeology. Annual Review of Anthropology 12: 143–164.
———. 1987. Prehistory and beyond: The place of archaeology. In R. E. Stipe and A. J. Lee, eds., The American mosaic: Preserving a nation’s heritage, 236–264. Washington, DC: United States Committee/International Council on Monuments and Sites.
———. 1998. Cultural resource laws and practice: An introductory guide. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira.
———. 2002. Thinking about cultural resource management: Essays from the edge. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira.
King, Thomas F., Patricia Parker Hickman, and Gary Berg. 1977. Anthropology in historic preservation. New York: Academic.
Knudson, Ruthann. 1986. Contemporary cultural resource management. In David J. Meltzer, Don D. Fowler, and Jeremy A. Sabloff, eds., American archaeology past and future, 395–413. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.
———. 1995. The public trust and archaeological stewardship. In Ruthann Knudson and Bennie C. Keel, eds., The public trust and the first Americans, 9–28. Corvallis: Oregon State University Press/Center for the Study of the First Americans.
———. 2000. Cultural Resource Management in Context. In Ray A. Williamson and Paul R. Nickens, eds., Science and technology for historic preservation, 267–290. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum.
Kohl, Philip L., and Clare Fawcett (eds.). 1995. Nationalism, politics, and the practice of archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Kristiansen, Kristian. 1992. “The strength of the past and its great might”: An essay on the use of the past. Journal of European Archaeology 1: 3–32.
———. 1998. Between rationalism and romanticism: Archaeological heritage management in the 1990s. Current Swedish Archaeology 6: 115–122.
Larson, Mary Lou. 1997. Housepits and mobile hunter-gatherers: A consideration of the Wyoming evidence. Plains Anthropologist 42: 353–369.
Lentz, Stephen C., Joan K. Gaunt, and Adisa J. Willmer. 1996. Fire effects on archaeological resources, phase 1: The Henry Fire, Holiday Mesa, Jemez Mountains, New Mexico. Fort Collins, USDA, Rocky Mountain Forest and Range Experiment Station, General Technical Report RM-GTR-273.
Leone, Mark P., and Parker B. Potter. 1992. Legitimation and the classification of archaeological sites. American Antiquity 57: 137–145.
Lerner, Shereen, and Teresa Hoffman. 2000. Bringing archaeology to the public: Programs in the southwestern United States. In Francis P. McManamon and Alf Hatton, eds., Cultural resource management in contemporary society, 231–246. London: Routledge.
Limp, W. Frederick. 2000. Geographic information systems in historic preservations. In Ray A. Williamson and Paul R. Nickens (eds.), Science and technology in historic preservation, 231–247. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum.
Lipe, William D. 1978. Contracts, bureaucrats, and research: Some emerging problems in conservation archaeology. In Robert C. Dunnell and Edwin S. Hall Jr., eds., Archaeological essays in honor of Irving B. Rouse, 121–147. New York: Mouton.
———. 1984. Value and meaning in cultural resources. In Henry F. Cleere, ed., Approaches to the archaeological heritage, 1–11. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
———. 1996. In defense of digging: Archaeological preservation as a means, not an end. CRM 19(7): 23–27.
———. 2001. Threat to knowledge, research, and the future of archeology in the national parks: An interview with Bill Lipe. Common Ground, Summer–Fall, 24–33.
Lipe, William D., and Charles Redman. 1996. Conference on renewing our national archaeological program. SAA Bulletin 14(4): 14–20.
Lopinot, Neal H. 2002. Public archaeology: Past, present, and future. Journal of Public Affairs 6: 91–105.
Loubser, Johannes. 2001. Management planning for conservation. In David S. Whitley, ed., Handbook of rock art research, 80–115. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira.
Macinnes, Lesley. 1993. Archaeology as land use. In John Hunter and Ian Ralston, eds., Archaeological resource management in the UK: An introduction, 243–255. Phoenix Mill, UK: Sutton/Institute of Field Archaeologists.
Marino, Eugene A., and Michael K. Trimble. 2001. Stewards of the past: Archaeological collections and the Department of Defense. CRM 24(3): 11–12.
Maschner, Herbert D. G. (ed). 1996. New methods, old problems: Geographic information systems in modern archaeological research. Center for Archaeological Investigations Occasional Paper no. 23. Southern Illinois University.
Mathers, Clay, Timothy Darvill, and Barbara J. Little (eds.). 2005. Heritage of value, archeology of renown: Reshaping archaeological assessment and significance. Gainesville: University Press of Florida.
Mathewson, Christopher C., Tania Gonzalez, and James S. Eblen. 1992. Burial as a method of archaeological site protection. Vicksburg: U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Waterways Experiment Station, Contract Report EL-92–1.
McGimsey, Charles R. 1972. Public archeology. New York: Academic.
———. 1975. Peer reviews. In Michael B. Schiffer and John H. House, eds., The Cache River archeological project: An experiment in contract archeology, 325–326. Archeological Survey Research Series no. 8. Fayetteville, Arkansas.
———. 1984. The value of archaeology. In Ernestene L. Green, ed., Ethics and values in archaeology, 171–174. New York: Free Press.
———. 2002. RPA. SAA Archaeological Record 2(4): 7–8.
McGimsey, Charles R., and Hester A. Davis. 2000. The old order changeth, or now that archaeology is in the deep end of the pool, let’s not just tread water. In Susan J. Bender and George S. Smith, eds., Teaching archaeology in the twenty-first century, 5–8. Washington, DC: Society for American Archaeology.
McGimsey, Charles R., and Hester A. Davis (eds.). 1977. The management of archeological resources: The Airlie House report. Washington, DC: Special Publication of the Society for American Archaeology.
McManamon, Francis P. 1991. The many publics for archaeology. American Antiquity 56: 121–130.
———. 2000. The protection of archaeological resources in the United States: Reconciling preservation with contemporary society. In Francis P. McManamon and Alf Hatton, eds., Cultural resource management in contemporary society, 40–54. London: Routledge.
McManamon, Francis P., and Alf Hatton. 2000. Introduction: Considering cultural resource management in modern society. In Cultural resource management in contemporary society, 1–19. London: Routledge.
Meskell, Lynn. 2002. The intersections of identity and politics in archaeology. Annual Review of Anthropology 31: 279–301.
Michel, Mark. 1997. Private property—national legacy: Protecting privately owned archaeological sites in the United States. Nonrenewable Resources 6(2): 131–136.
Moe, Jeanne M. 2000. America’s archaeological heritage: Protection through education. In Francis P. McManamon and Alf Hatton, eds., Cultural resource management in contemporary society, 276–287. London: Routledge.
Morse, Dan F. 1997. Sloan: A Paleoindian Dalton cemetery in Arkansas. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Mulvaney, D. J. 1991. Past regained, future lost: The Kow swamp Pleistocene burials. Antiquity 65: 12–21.
Ndoro, Webber, and Gilbert Pwiti. 2001. Heritage management in southern Africa: Local, national, and international discourse. Public Archaeology 2: 21–34.
Neumann, Thomas W., and Robert M. Sanford. 2001. Cultural resources archaeology: An introduction. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira.
New Mexico Office of Cultural Affairs. 1995. New Mexico Cultural Resources Impact Assessment, 1995. State of New Mexico Office of Cultural Affairs, Santa Fe.
Nickens, Paul R. 1993. Use of signs as a protective measure of cultural resource sites. Vicksburg, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Waterways Experiment Station, Technical Report EL-93–6.
———. 2000. Technologies for in-place protection and long-term conservation of archaeological sites. In Ray A. Williamson and Paul R. Nickens, eds., Science and technology in historic preservation, 309–332. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum.
Owsley, Douglas, and Jerome C. Rose (eds.). 1997. Bioarcheology of the north central United States. Archeological Survey Research Series no. 49. Fayetteville, Arkansas.
Palumbo, Gaetano. 1993. Conference on cultural resource management in Jordan. Journal of Field Archaeology 20: 499–505.
Paradise, Thomas R. 2000. Sandstone architectural deterioration in Petra, Jordan. In Vasco Fassina, ed., Proceedings of the UNESCO Congress on stone deterioration and conservation, 145–154. Venice: UNESCO.
Parker, Patricia, L. 1993. What you do and how we think? CRM 16: 1–5.
———. 2001. Sacred sites in traditional American Indian culture. In Ismail Serageldin, Ephim Shluger, and Joan Martin-Brown, eds., Historic cities and sacred sites, 335–343. Washington DC: World Bank.
Parker, Patricia L., and Thomas F. King. 1998. Guidelines for evaluating and documenting traditional cultural properties. Washington, DC: Cultural Resources, National Park Service, USDI.
Potter, Parker B., Jr. 1994. Postprocessual approaches and public archaeology: Putting critical archaeology to work for the public. In Jordan E. Kerber, ed., Cultural resource management: Archaeological research, preservation planning, and public education in the northeastern United States, 65–85. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey.
Renfrew, A. Colin. 1983. Divided we stand: Aspects of archaeology and information. American Antiquity 48: 3–16.
Robinson, Paul A. 1994. Archaeology, history, and Native Americans: Preserving the richness of the past. In Jordan E. Kerber, ed., Cultural resource management: Archaeological research, preservation planning, and public education in the northeastern United States, 87–95. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey.
Robles Garcia, Nelly. 1998. Management of archaeological resources in Mexico: Experiences in Oaxaca. SAA Bulletin 16(3): 22–25.
Rose, Jerome C. (ed.). 1999. Bioarcheology of the south central United States. Archeological Survey Research Series no. 55. Fayetteville, Arkansas.
Rose, Jerome C., Thomas J. Green, and Victoria D. Green. 1996. NAGPRA is forever: Osteology and the repatriation of skeletons. Annual Review of Anthropology 25: 81–103.
Sabo, George, III, Luis F. Restrepo, and Linda Jones. 2000. First encounters: Native Americans and Europeans in the Mississippi Valley. CD-ROM. Fayetteville, Arkansas, Archeological Survey.
Sassaman, Kenneth E., and David G. Anderson (eds.). 1996. Archaeology of the mid-Holocene Southeast. Gainesville: University Press of Florida.
Schiffer, Michael B., and George J. Gumerman. 1977. Culture resource management. In Michael B. Schiffer and George J. Gumerman, eds., Conservation archaeology: A guide for cultural resource management studies, 1–17. New York: Academic.
Schofield, A. J. 2000. Now we know: The role of research in archaeological conservation practices in England. In Francis P. McManamon and Alf Hatton, eds., Cultural resource management in contemporary society, 76–92. London: Routledge.
Schuldenrein, Joseph. 1995. The care and feeding of archaeologists: A plea for pragmatic training in the 21st century. SAA Bulletin 13(3): 22–24.
Shott, Michael J. 1992. Commerce or service: Models of practice in archaeology. In LuAnn Wandsnider, ed., Quandaries and quests: Visions of archaeology’s future, 9–24. Occasional Paper no. 20. Carbondale, Center for Archaeological Investigations, Southern Illinois University.
Shunnaq, Mohammed, and Margaret Reid. 2000. From antiquity laws to heritage legislation: Towards a national strategy for Jordanian cultural resource management. Abhath Al-Yarmouk 16(3): 1–22.
Simon, Brona G. 1994. The carrot, not the stick: Strategies for protecting archaeological sites on private property. In Jordan E. Kerber, ed., Cultural resource management: Archaeological research, preservation planning, and public education in the northeastern United States, 191–208. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey.
Smith, Laurajane. 1994. Heritage management as post-processual archaeology. Antiquity 68: 300–309.
Soon, Tay, and Alice Erh. 1985. Law and cultural heritage. In Isabel McBryde, ed., Who owns the past? 107–138. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Suagee, Dean B. 1999. Human rights and the cultural heritage of Indian tribes in the United States. International Journal of Cultural Property 8: 48–76.
Sullivan, Lynne P. 2001. The curation dilemma: A mutual problem for research and resource management. In Robert D. Drennan and Santiago Mora, eds., Archaeological research and heritage preservation in the Americas, 90–98. Washington, DC: Society for American Archaeology.
Swidler, Nina, Kurt E. Dongoske, Roger Anyon, and Alans S. Downer (eds.). 1997. Native Americans and archaeologists: Stepping stones to common ground. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira.
Tacon, Paul S. (1999). Identifying ancient sacred landscapes in Australia: From physical to social. In Wendy Ashmore and A. Bernard Knapp, eds., Archaeologies of landscape, 33–57. Oxford: Blackwell.
Thomas, David Hurst. 2000. Skull wars: Kennewick man, archaeology, and the battle for Native American identity. New York: Basic.
Thompson, Raymond H. 1982. Archeological triage: Determining the significance of cultural properties. In Rex L. Wilson and Gloria Loyola, eds., Rescue archeology: Papers from the first new world conference on rescue archeology, 40–46. Washington, DC: Preservation.
Thorne, Robert M. 1991. Intentional site burial: A technique to protect against natural or mechanical loss. Technical Brief no. 5. Washington, DC: Archeological Assistance Program, National Park Service.
———. 1994. Archaeological site preservation as an appropriate and useful management tool. In Claire Mousseau, ed., Archaeological remains in situ preservation: 263–269. Proceedings of the Second ICAHM International Conference, ICOMOS International Committee on Archaeological Heritage Management.
United States Department of the Army. 1998. Cultural resources management, Army Regulation 200–4. Washington, DC: Department of Army.
US/ICOMOS. 1999. ICOMOS charters and other international doctrinal documents. US/ICOMOS Scientific Journal 1(1): 1–107.
Wainwright, Geoffrey J. 1993. The management of change: Archaeology and planning. Antiquity 67: 416–421.
———. 2000. Time please. Antiquity 74: 909–943.
Walker, Deward, Jr. 1991. Protection of American Indian sacred geography. In Christopher Vecsey, ed., Handbook of American Indian religious freedom, 100–115. New York: Crossroad.
Wheatley, David. 1995. The impact of information technology on the practice of archaeological management. In Malcolm A. Cooper, Antony Firth, John Carman, and David Wheatley, eds., Managing Archaeology, 163–174. London: Routledge.
Wildesen, Leslie E. 1982. The study of impacts on archaeological sites. Advances in archaeological method and theory 5: 51–96.