LESSONS FROM COMMUNITY-BASED PARTICIPATORY ARCHAEOLOGY: CREATING A MODEL FOR A MORE COLLABORATIVE MUSEUM SPACE By Emma Creamer A THESIS Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Arts, Cultural Management, & Museum Studies – Master of Art 2023 ABSTRACT Museums are beginning to attempt to understand and undo the lasting effects that colonialism has had on museums as institutions. Given the foundations of museums, the relationship between colonialism and museums are inextricably intertwined, and therefore any efforts at decolonization are deeply challenging. However, the field of archaeology and archaeologists have spent many decades engaging in the decolonial project, and many archaeological projects are currently experiencing successful decolonial outcomes. Because of this, the decolonial efforts currently underway in the field of archaeology provides excellent examples of how decolonial efforts can be used in the cultural humanities and can provide a model with a through line to be applied in a museum setting. To Brian, for his endless support and encouragement. To my dad, for always giving exceptional advice. And to my mom, for taking me to museums countless times, staging my first excavation, and for our experimental chicken mummification. iii TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter 1: Introduction……………………………………………...……………………………..1 Chapter 2: Review of Literature………………………………………………………...………..14 Chapter 3: Explanation and Evaluation of Case Studies …………….…………………………...23 Chapter 4: The Model………………………………………….………..………………………..53 Chapter 5: Conclusion………………………………………………….………………………...65 BIBLIOGRAPHY………………………………………………………………………………..69 iv Chapter 1: Introduction A Brief History Museums are considered institutions of entertainment, joy, and learning. They are routinely rated one of the highest sources of trustworthy information and offer opportunities for people all over the world to learn about and appreciate the objects they house (Griffiths & King, 2008, Dilenschneider, 2020, Wilkening, S., 2018). When visiting museums, visitors expect to learn and be entertained, and they believe the information they are receiving to be accurate. Of course, museums strive to produce and provide the most accurate and understandable information. However, the foundations of museums and early museum collecting practices are rooted and steeped in colonialism, imperialism, and violence. Museums are trending towards trying to shake this history of contributions to oppression (Wickens, 2012: Morse & Munro, 2018). From restructuring hiring practices, planning more inclusive education programs, and incorporating exhibits that directly or indirectly addresses the museum's colonial past, many cultural institutions are actively engaging in the decolonial conversation. However, this de- or anti- colonial project is a relatively new endeavor in the museum space (Crooke, 2008). There has been a slightly longer history of attempting to diversify the museum audience, but this highly targeted effort to confront colonial influences in the museum space has gained popularity primarily in the 21st century. And more specifically, Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) efforts were not seen so thoroughly addressed across the board until museums were, reluctantly, thrust into the conversations of campaigns like Black Lives Matter and Museums Are Not Neutral (Deufel, 2016). Even with all of these efforts and initiative, there are many museum professionals who still believe that museums are not changing at an 1 institutional level. They argue that museums are either putting on a show of increasing diversity and addressing institutionalized racism, but these efforts are only surface level (Haupt et. al, 2022). Or even worse, some claim that these institutions are loudly flaunting their new strategic plans that include issues of colonialism, but are not implementing any decolonial strategies at all (Paquet, 2021). Again, this is not to say that all museums are failing at decolonial strategies, but rather that there is a lack of cross-institutional or discipline wide understanding of how to engage in community-based work. And as a result, many institutions are avoiding the topic all together, or producing one-off, surface level results. Because of this, there needs to be a comprehensive and unified methodology that museums can implement and reference when guiding community and decolonial initiatives. In contrast, the discipline of archaeology and anthropology have a longer history of decolonial efforts and have been engaging in critical conversations about the ongoing effects of colonialism and imperialism in the field. Perhaps this is because while museums have directly and indirectly benefited from colonialism, archaeology and anthropology are foundationally colonial practices. Because of this, the need to disentangle and distance from these roots was more obvious in these social sciences, and arguably, the pathway to doing so seemed more obvious. The “decolonial” project in archaeology has had many overlapping and not mutually exclusive iterations and is an often-evolving practice. Presented below is a discussion of the tangible and intangible ways in which museums are affected and guided by the lasting impacts of colonialism, both as it relates to the roots of museums as well as the ongoing ingrainment of racism within Western culture. Additionally, I will discuss the evolution of decolonial thought in the field of archaeology and propose the argument that because of this history of decolonial thought and practice in archaeology makes it an excellent case study through which to extract 2 methodologies and practices to apply to museums. After a review and analysis of four different archaeological projects, I put forward the argument that Community-Based Archaeological research produces a model for decolonial community-engaged projects in museums. History of Western Museums as Colonial Tools The discipline of archaeology and anthropology have filled museums with stolen, looted, and unethically obtained objects. This means that museum interpretations, exhibits, labels, and other forms of information dissemination are explicitly or, more often, implicitly steeped in this colonial mindset (Berlo et. al., 1995). Seeing as museums began as collections held by influential and highly educated men as a means to flaunt their wealth and knowledge, there is a long held understanding that those who are collecting at institutions have a high level of authority on research and narratives within a museum. Historically, these curatorial and directorial roles have been held by Western men of means who have collected based on their own fetishization of art, ethnography, and archaeology. Because of this, the priorities of a museum are shaped and formed by the priorities of Western men. This still proliferates museums, as while staff diversity is increasing in museums, museums remain primarily staffed by individuals who identify as white. Those at the Mellon Foundation write, in an introduction to 2014 museum demographics report, that “For far too long, those professions responsible for presenting, interpreting, and caring for art objects at art museums across the US have fallen short of reflecting the heterogeneity of the demographics of the United States. Thus, they have lacked a full range of knowledge, values, and vision.” (2014). In 2022, the Mellon Foundation partnered with Ithaka S+R, the Association of Art Museum Directors (AAMD), and the American Alliance of Museums to again conduct a survey on museum staff demographics. They found that 63% of all museum staff identify as white, which is down from 73% in 2015. However, white staff 3 members hold 73% of the intellectual leadership positions, and 77% of both collections and administration positions (Mellon, 2022). Confronting and undoing these colonial pasts is no easy task, and museum professionals are only beginning to implement systematic change on an institutional level. This imperialistic and often violent history of collecting practices in museums has unavoidably impacted the way objects are displayed and understood, and the continued practice of disassociation between an object and its object history. Relationship Between Archaeological Projects and Museums Colonialism is deeply entangled within the museums as an institution, and the perception of museum professionals as authorities only exacerbates this issue. The decision by museum curators about what not to display often says as much, if not more, about the importance Eurocentric academics believe is of most importance (Feld, 2021). The curatorial role has shifted from solely being a role which promotes and displays their collection, and it is now the curator’s job to interpret and engage with their audience at the forefront (Haas, J. 2003; Fouseki, 2010). Curators, and by extension museums, have entered a new phase of being, where they should prioritize the role of public programming, reflecting on the ways the collection can speak to the human condition. Curators also exist to ease the tension between conflicting goals of museums as institutions of knowledge, and museums as places of public engagement. Many museums are attempting to undo the negative effects of colonialism and white supremacy by challenging this idea of curator as expert. A powerful framework through which to evaluate and alter this historically privileged position of the curator is through a community- based participatory approach, which recognizes the community as equal stakeholders in the project of displaying and interpreting artifacts and material culture. Community-based 4 methodologies also promote the idea of community as experts, further challenging and shifting the idea of the museum as a tool for Western superiority. Archaeology too contributed to Western dominance through the mystification and othering of groups outside of the West (Said, 1978). Oscar Moro-Abadía writes in The History of Archaeology as a “Colonial Discourse’ (2006), “During the greater part of the twentieth century, the history of archaeology promoted an idealized image of archaeological practice in colonized places. Historians usually omitted the political implications of archaeology and, in many instances, justified the appropriation of material culture from colonized places”. The role of archaeology historically in the promotion of colonialism cannot be avoided, as it continues to impact and affect archaeological methodologies, from everything to research questions, excavation, and artifact collection practices. Museums and the field of archaeology are inextricably linked and intertwined, with each discipline funding and advancing the significance of the other (Humphreys, 1973; Schadla-Hall, 1999; Barker, 2010). While the relationship between archaeological fieldwork and the collecting and accessioning of archaeological materials has decreased, the role of archaeological artifacts in museums remains significant (Barker et. al, 2003). Archaeological materials are still frequently used as teaching tools, used in exhibits, and are the subject of academic publications within museums. Prompted and pushed by the conversation about how archaeological projects have resulted in the West stealing artifacts, many archaeologists have begun to contemplate how best to undo these past wrongs. Many have come to the conclusion that they should restructure the ways in which they excavate in present day and move archaeological scholarship away from what suits and promotes the excavator towards what is the most beneficial for the community 5 they are digging in, and the community whose cultural heritage they are digging up. Although it has been generally agreed upon by academic archaeologists that this post-colonial shift is necessary (Lane, 2011; Preucel & Mrozowski, 2010; Said, 1978), there are varying ideas on how this is best approached. The primary approaches to paradigms concerning the decolonization of archaeology focus on engaging the communities that are included in the research being undertaken. However, the methodology for doing so varies (Nicholas et al., 2010; Chirikure et al., 2010; Angelbeck, 2014; Pyburn, 2014). The literature describing these different methodological approaches predominantly uses language that includes community engagement, collaborative archaeology, community-based participatory research, community-based practices, and decolonization. This discussion argues that community-based participatory research (CBPR) methods provide the best framework through which to engage in decolonial and collaborative projects in museums and heritage centers. Dr. Paul Lane argues that through community-based approaches, archaeology can be utilized as an anti-colonial tool. He writes, “In the African context, the development of archaeology, along with investigation of the past through oral traditions and histories, has been widely seen as the way best to challenge older claims that the continent had no history prior to the arrival of Europeans” (2011). This sentiment is echoed by Robertshaw (1990), Trigger (1994), and Stahl (2005). Perhaps too this speaks to the potential of museums to move into an anti-colonial framework; displaying and interpreting archaeological materials gives museums the ability to promote decolonial narratives. Dr. Lane also explains that in sub-Saharan Africa, colonialism continues to shape archaeological practices, and as museums as a medium are a public manifestation of archaeology, a shift in museum strategies to participatory methods can result in museums being anti-colonial tools as well (2011). 6 Heritage Center vs Museum Foundations of Museums Through an exploration of the roots of museums, it becomes clear why museums have not had success in distancing themselves from the colonial project. Like archaeology, museums are steeped with colonial and imperialistic ideals and systems, making it a challenge to untangle supremist narratives and an exclusionary, elitist framework. Through this examination and explanation of the origins of museums, one can clearly see the throughline from archaeological, decolonial projects to museum community-based and led initiatives. Museums have a foundation and evolution beginning as far back as the Ur of the Chaldees in 530 BCE, progressing through the Temple of Muses in Alexandria in the 3rd c BCE, onto cabinets of curiosities in the 14th - 17th centuries in Europe, and finally landing on the form we know and recognize today (Latham & Simmons, 2014). The institutions listed above as well as similar organizations were and are seen as places of intellectual pursuit which helped push civilization forward in philosophy, science, and intellect. However, like most spaces in the past, and often the present, these were institutions that reflected the ideas and amplified the voices of men (Marstine, 2007), specifically learned men of power. Disciplines such as anthropology and sociology have murky roots in social Darwinism, the theory that groups and peoples follow the same Darwinian laws of nature as any other organism, asserting that there is a social theory of evolution that can place civilizations and cultures into a hierarchical order of progress (Hawkins, 1997). The ethnographies that anthropologists produced often referred to this social evolution when they used “savages” from around the world to explain and reinforce their own worldviews of Western dominance. To them, seeing such primitive societies only confirmed what they already knew: the academics and members of the Western world were at the forefront of social evolution, and 7 therefore at the top of the societal hierarchy. The obsession of elite intellects (read: men) to showcase a large many exemplars of plant, animal, and human evolution began with private collections, which, as they grew, eventually became mausoleums for natural history specimens. As museums became more formalized institutions, and not just a collection of coveted objects in the home of a scholar or adventurer, official classifications began to be used to sort objects. These classification systems were utilized beyond in a research or academic setting and aided or guided exhibition strategies in some of the first and largest museums. Museums faced a choice of how to group items, a choice which can be broken down into a simple three categories: material, culture, and form. Holetschek writes, “Taxonomies represent our understanding of species biodiversity and evolution, which is subject to permanent research.” (2019). Museums such as the Ashmolean and the British Museum quickly adopted the strategy of using taxonomies when categorizing the species held and displayed in their collections and museum spaces. Conversely, the Pitt-Rivers Museum, which is in Oxford, England, used a methodology that categorized and arranged objects by type and dates. Pitt-River’s goal was to display his materials in a way they would convey what he felt was obvious - that there was a clear progression of complexity and superiority in cultural artifacts, and that there were certain types of peoples who were more advanced and remained more complex as humanity progressed. Although the taxonomic displays used in early museums of human artifacts should be seen as an affirmation of the academic opinion of western superiority (as they were organizing objects in an evolution-based system), it could be said that the Pitt-Rivers Museum’s use of the new “typology” was more explicitly racist, as the intention was certainly to call attention to the “evolved” versus the “savages” (van Keuren, 1984). Museums have since moved away from typographic displays and have reserved taxonomic 8 categories for natural and biological specimens. However, with Native and Indigenous cultures and artifacts still being displayed in many natural history museums, as opposed to archeological or art museums, how far can we really claim to have distances ourselves from these hierarchies? Certain archaeological projects have begun using community-based naming systems when addressing the artifacts they excavate and research (Silliman, 2008). If museums are dedicated to the decolonial project, turning to archaeology’s examples on how to recategorize ethnographic and archaeological materials would be immensely productive. Again, it is clear that archaeological research has spent decades reaching conclusions on how to put de-colonialism to work in community-based and participatory work, and museums have the opportunity to easily adapt those methods to be utilized in their institutions. Museums as National Tools Museums have also served as tools to build nation identities and increase or create a sense of nationalism (Gellner, 1983). This form of nation building can be seen utilized in both Western institutions, often to bolster a sense of cultural superiority as explained above or can be seen in museums or institutions in the Global South, where reclaiming material cultural heritage was a crucial part of distancing themselves from the colonial bodies that once ruled them. In the 19th century, many museums were created in the West to explicitly be National Museums (McLean, 2005). For example, the British Museum, the National Museum of Scotland, the Louvre, and what is now known as the Smithsonian were all created as national museums (Fladmark, 2000), which served to elevate national identity through a socio-political framework (Duyvendak 2011; Elgenius, 2014). And while now museums are shifting focus away from building national identity and towards existing within the public domain and building local or 9 community identity (McLean, 2005), that does not mean that these larger institutions’ role in and capacity for contributing to national identity or a sense of national pride has disappeared. Using South Africa and Greece as key examples, Dr. Mavromichali (2014) discusses how museums can help create a national narrative, and an idealization of the past. She argues that museums are capable of building narratives of nationalism and identity, especially in areas with an already idealized past, like Greece. The focus on the past, which is a core aspect of museums, can solidify a national identity built upon the past, rather than focus on the future. While the author does not spend much time discussing the shortcomings or benefits of this utilization of museums, it is not unreasonable to conclude that Mavromichali is urging nations and museum curators to consider the immense power that museums hold in nation building. As museums have a deep-rooted history in displaying “fact” and holding truth in the eyes of the public, it is not unreasonable to conclude that museums must be aware of the sway they hold on personal and national identity and aim to not uphold an idealized version of the nation they represent. National museums do not just exist in the West but have a more contemporary use as builders of national identity countries that have historically been colonized. This can be seen very clearly in African countries, where governing bodies either took over or created museums in the wake of liberation and independence (Mekuria & Silverman, 2021). “As part of the process of becoming independent nation-states, virtually all Africa’s 54 nations established national museums with the primary responsibility of representing the nation to their respective citizens as well as to the rest of the world.”. Chipangura writes “This is because whereas national museums are considered to be repositories of national heritage, community museums incorporate community perceptions as both a process and an experience.” (2019). 10 Museums, being foundationally institutions created in the West or Global North, are poised to be agents of colonial thought. While there are above examples of traditional “museums” being used to advance local narratives and agency, this connotation and historical use of a museum in western superiority has led some community-based cultural institutions to shift away from strictly identifying as a “museum”. Defining Heritage Center The use of the term “heritage center” in this thesis is quite intentional. While the institutions referenced here are largely referred to as museums - in fact, many have museum in their name – the use of museums in the promotion and perpetuation of white supremacy and colonialism is reflected in the language used in museums. Additionally, while there is community-engaged work happening at museums, object-based community work is not limited to the walls of a “museum” and exists in a variety of institutions. Because of this, referring to this work as occurring in heritage centers is a more inclusive designation. This is not to say the museum is a “bad” word, rather that it is limiting in its definition and scope; the expectations of a museum's role and requirements are different than that of a heritage center. Kelli Mosteller, CHC Director writes of the difference between museums and heritage centers are that “We are a museum in the sense that we are here to protect, preserve and display our cultural artifacts for the public and for tribal members, but we are a cultural heritage center because of everything else that goes along with it” (2021). Heritage Centers prioritize stories and histories of the objects and the communities they belong to more so than a traditional museum model. Because of this, similar to national museums, heritage centers have a large capacity for identity building, but on a local or community level. 11 Role of Language in Community Work Language use is important and intentional in community-based work. Fairclough explains that language use aids in the production of power and reinforces existing hierarchies (1989). These hierarchies are undeniably apparent in museums and archaeological contexts (Chipangura & Mataga, 2021). In his 2015 article Expectations, Disillusionment and Hope - for an Evolutionary Process in South African Museums Dr. Du Plessis reflects on how and why a museum might “Africanize” the museology of their museum. He begins by saying that museums, and South African museums specifically, face issues of language, object-centered approaches, and a lack of global connectivity between Black Africans in contemporary spaces. First, the language used in museums is a Western language and interpretation. We describe and categorize our collection based on the opinions and experiences of Western academics and curators. Du Plessis urges us to consider how that may affect a museum visitor who would interact with the items on display. In fact, he explains that black Africans often consider museums to be spaces for white and western individuals, but not themselves. This can be referenced back to how museums have historically categorized and displayed the objects in their holdings; the language and classifications used are inherently Western concepts. Again, the ability for some archaeological projects to reject conventional naming structures could provide a guide point for heritage centers to do the same. Conclusion Museums have a long history of contributing to colonialism and assisting in the promotion of white supremacy (Fifi & Heller, 2019; Dominguez et. al., 2020). From the classifications museums used to discuss the objects housed and displayed in museums, to the type of artwork museums collect, they often engage in colonialism at systemic level. By contrast, 12 archaeology and anthropology, as a discipline, have spent the last handful of decades contributing to several theories for decolonizing the fields (Atalay, 2012, 2014a, 2019a). These strategies for decolonization have had many iterations (Atalay, 2007, 2010a), but the most effective methodology is community-based participatory work. By including the community, archaeologists are able to remove a certain level of academic authority and superiority, and then re-centers the agency of the community they are researching in. By examining the work being done by archaeologists to decolonize the field using community-based strategies, a model can be developed for museums to do the same. Discussed here are four case studies, each which engages in community-led or based work, which has allowed the projects to center community voices, and allow the research to be by and for the community. Using this same philosophy, museums could be able to uplift and prioritize the voices of the communities they are located in, as well as the communities whose objects they house. In doing so, museums can begin the journey of systemic and institutional change towards a more inclusive and less colonial environment, in all areas of their work. 13 Chapter 2: Review of Literature History of CBPR Community-based participatory research and community-based methods have their roots in participatory action research (PAR), which was pioneered by Kurt Lewin and Orlando Fals Borda in the 1940s (Bradbury & Reason, 2008). Since its inception, PAR has provided “Tools and concepts for doing research with people, including ‘barefoot scientists’ and grassroots ‘organic intellectuals’" (2008). Doing PAR means prioritizing researchers and participants working together to promote social change and liberate research participants by giving them the tools to have a greater understanding of their situation. Like community-based research, PAR is an interactive process and is highly context specific, with a focus on a cycle of research, inquiry, and altering of strategies when appropriate (2008). This type of inquiry and methodology was born from the understanding that knowledge produces certain types of power, which primarily reinforces hierarchies present in Western society (Habermas, 1971). From that assumption, participatory action researchers have posited that “experience can be a basis of knowing” (Kolb, 1984). Today, PAR is commonly practiced in Health Fields, where researchers and practitioners realize and reject the systemic oppression and reduction of experiences common in healthcare and are actively moving towards promoting the patient’s experience over the medical knowledge of the practitioner (Burns, 2009; Chevalier & Buckles, 2012). While Participatory Action Research continues to be applied to a variety of fields, the practice has since evolved into Community-Based Participatory Research (CBPR) (McIntyre, 2008). Similarly, to PAR, CBPR is also often used in the medical field (Wilson 2018; Jenkins 2007) as well as in the social sciences (Arcury et al. 2001; Atalay, 2008: 2012; Twyman, 2000). 14 Like PAR, “CBPR questions the power relationships that are inherently embedded in Western knowledge production” and promotes knowledge and power sharing between all research participants (Stefanovic, 2021). Dr. Sonya Atalay is largely credited with contemporary methods of CBPR in archaeology, focusing on CBPR as a strategy for doing archaeology by, with, and for local communities. Atalay writes “CBPR involves collaboration with community members to: 1) define a research issue; 2) develop research strategies; 3) design research instruments; and 4) collect and interpret data. This method also involves feedback between researchers and community collaborators to evaluate the project’s effectiveness from multiple perspectives.” (Atalay 2008). Beyond PAR, Community-Based Participatory Research in archaeology evolved concurrently with Indigenous Archaeology, or Archaeologies. Indigenous archaeology prioritizes respecting Indigenous sovereignty and knowledge production, which provides a framework through which to decolonize the field (González-Ruibal, 2018). “Across the Globe, Indigenous people are asserting their rights and responsibilities to care for and interpret archaeological places and materials” (Atalay, 2012). “Native American activism undoubtedly played a critical role in pushing the discipline toward more community-engaged practices'' (Atalay 2012; Hammil & Cruz, 1989; Stottman 2011). American Indians Against Desecration (AIAD) statement to World Archaeological Congress in 1986 questioned archaeologist and anthropologists’ “moral and legal” authority to conduct research on Native lives and sacred materials (Layton, 1994). However, this address by AIAD also referenced the positive relationships that can be between Native groups and anthropologists, praising the archaeologists who were willing to work alongside Indigenous communities (Atalay, 2012; Hubert, 1992; Boge, 2016). Later advances in Indigenous Rights Movements in the heritage sector included the foundation of the Smithsonian 15 National Museum of the American Museum in 1989, the creation of the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) in 1990, and the change in the requirements of the Historic Preservation Act to include mandatory consultation with Indigenous groups in 1992(Fine-Dare 2002; Yasaitis, 2005; Nash & Colwell, 2020). This movement in archaeological and the heritage sector continued to expand to include Indigenous voices and agendas, with Gonzalez writing “Collaborative archaeological research with indigenous communities, in addition to fostering culturally specific, community-centred research programmes, also encourages meaningful shifts in archaeological research on the ground.” (2018). However, despite these advancements, this relationship that is fostered by law does not always translate to museums following the goals of collaboration. Often, museums do not always want to give artifacts back, as can be required by NAGPRA, nor do they always feel the need to work collaboratively with Indigenous groups (Nash & Colwell‐Chanthaphonh, 2010; Colwell, 2017). Buchanan et al (2007), writing specifically about community-based participatory research in community health interventions, presents the argument that in health and in archaeology, there are some concerns that CBPR may decrease the rigor and legitimacy of the field and subsequent research; archeology and health are a science and a discipline, with defined methodology and analysis, and many believe that in focusing on community voices and opinions, the methodology will come second to last. With this, the results and frameworks will shift away from the traditional research questions. Of course, this shift is in a way the goals of CBPR, as the hope of archaeologists to use CBPR to include and uplift community voices and agendas. As in PAR practices, CBPR recognizes that communities are their own experts, and the experience(s) of a community should not be minimized or dismissed in favor of academic’s research agendas. 16 However, there are two other ethical considerations in CBPR; Hayward et al. explain these issues as 1) securing informed consent and respecting community autonomy, and 2) equal or equitable distribution of resources. Community participatory work is not achieved simply by having community participation, but rather that CBPR should be achieved through a framework where the project aims to have the community participate and be involved in the highest feasible amount during the entirety of the project. CBPR practitioners have the ability to comment on and engage in the growing conversation about research ethics. CBPR is a complex and values- based practice which frequently encounters and deals with issues of informed consent, ownership, and a blurred researcher/community dynamic (2013). Because of this, CBPR can and does inform the “everyday ethics” of research. This “everyday ethics” deals with negotiating ethical issues and other challenges that arise from CBPR. Such challenges include, the blurring of lines between researchers and communities, considerations of power and partnership, community rights and ownership, and the need for institutional ethical review process(es). CBPR in museums Museums should view their audience and stakeholders as those beyond who is actively participating in the museum process currently. By committing themselves to work towards community-based collaboration, museums can show they believe their relevance matters to the entirety of their community. In Shultz’s, the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia’s project “A Partnership of Peoples” (2008). The author suggests that this project shows the need for visitors to have meaningful and personal experiences at museums to elevate their visitor experience. Schultz argues that the capacity of visitors to connect with the subjects and exhibits they are viewing can be cultivated through personalized, or at least more personal, visitor experiences. Through this, museums not only have the opportunity to better 17 connect with their audience, they can also better serve them. By taking the time to understand the wants and needs of their community, museums can become a place of social inclusion and social justice. Schultz believes those are two concepts that museums should be wholly dedicated to promoting, and in doing so, will create a more equitable and enjoyable museum space. CBPR in Archaeology Researchers’ ideas of place and heritage often do not align with how those concepts are considered by local communities (Jopela & Per Ditlef, 2015). Western archaeologists tend to overlook how rural communities in Africa conduct their own archaeology and reconstruct their past through their ancestors. While researchers tend to argue that the “public” have the right to access cultural material, western views of a frozen or stagnant past is at odds with the ritual significance archaeological sites can hold for the public. Professional archaeologists define themselves as stewards of heritage and material culture. The authors argue that archaeologists must engage in outreach to emphasize the importance of this stewardship and increase the public’s knowledge of the value of archaeology. The authors also discuss the intertwined issues of epistemic symmetry and inclusive ethics of recognition. Inclusive epistemic frameworks can help facilitate conversations of contrasting views without the emphasis being put on perceived global standards. The authors emphasize that many African communities have a different relationship to their ancestors than what is experienced in the west, and researchers need to consider those relationships when approaching the issue(s) of “traditional stewardship”. In the same vein, the definition of community goes beyond what western archaeologists often define community as, and can include those ideas of ancestral community members, as well as “newcomers” to a community. Decolonization and post-colonial 18 In community-based work within the field of archaeology, museums and beyond, the terms “decolonization” and “post-colonial” are frequently used. While some individuals use these terms interchangeably, there are benefits to engaging in a more nuanced discussion of the different uses and applications of these terms. Decolonization is often spoken about as a method or practice of identifying and addressing the “legacy(s) of colonialism”. Decolonization prioritizes and engages with actional methods of addressing colonialism and its lasting impacts. Dr. Lemos explains “drawing from decolonial theory, ‘decolonization’ means much more than undoing colonialism. It presupposes ‘epistemic reconstitution’, for which there is no formula” (2022). Mignolo echoes this sentiment, also arguing that decolonization has no set recipe, however it prioritizes decentralization of power (2017). Decolonization in archaeology specifically, “decolonization” concerns itself with undoing of colonialism, resulting in independence (Betts, 2012), and in research generally is primarily consists of collaboration with local communities (Smith & Wobst, 2005; Lydon & Rizvi, 2010; Bruchac, 2014). Sylvia Tamale writes, in Decolonization and Afro-Feminism, “The prefix “de-” in the terms “decolonization” and “decoloniality” connotes an active action of undoing or reversal.” (2020). By contrast, postcolonial theory often refers to a framework through which to identify the impacts of colonialism. “Postcolonial theory provides a critical framework that allows archaeologists working around the world to identify inequalities created by colonialism in the societies we study.” (Lemos, 2022). Dr. Gosden explains in his book Archaeology and Colonialism that postcolonial archaeology takes two forms: investigation of the histories of colonialism as it has operated within the field of archaeology specifically, which often is born from collaboration between Native peoples and non-Native practitioners. The second prong is “investigating the colonial histories of archaeology, physical anthropology, and social/cultural 19 anthropology to discern hitherto unrecognized trope of colonialism in our studies” (2004). “Postcolonial theory is a body of ideas and methods that originate in anti-colonial movements.” (Césaire 2000; Liebmann 2008). Before continuing the discussion of the differences and overlap of these terms, it is important to note that there do not exist “legacies” of colonialism. To have a legacy inherently means that the action or event to which the legacy is a product of exists in the past. There are lasting impacts and effects of colonialism, certainly, and those effects occur both explicitly and implicitly in a large variety of situations (Fúnez-Flores, 2021). The impact and repercussions of colonialism, however, cannot be referred to as a legacy, because to do so implies that colonialism is a phenomenon that lives in the past. Similarly, to the argument that “legacy” reduces colonialism to a relic of the past, rather than an active agent currently, Lydon and Rizi write, “Moreover, postcolonial scholars would find it problematic to characterize our time as post-colonial (with a hyphen) given the enduring effects of colonialism, experienced especially by minority groups across the globe today.” (2010). While the term “post-colonial” refers to a specific intellectual endeavor in academia, which will be discussed in this section, the implication of “post” in defining this practice is worthy of criticism (Pagán-Jiménez 2004). It is also important to know that while decolonization as a movement is often cited as beginning and gaining popularity in archaeology and anthropology in the last several decades, decolonization as a practice has existed as long as colonialism has existed. For as long as groups, communities, and individuals have been oppressed and imprisoned as a result of colonialism, there have existed groups, communities, and individuals who have actively engaged in decolonial acts. This highly academic use and defining of decolonial practices and strategies can 20 serve to minimize and delegitimize the ways, both small and large, that communities have practiced anti-colonial or decolonization, beyond what is defined and explored by the academy. Sylvia Tamale explains, “Colonialism and decolonization go hand in hand... Indeed, the expressions and articulations of decolonization long predate its theoretical emergence.” (2020). If the terms decolonization and post-colonial are often overly intellectualized within the academy, to what end does this subsection serve? “Decolonizing efforts became common across many academic disciplines, to the point where one could say that ‘decolonizing’ became a metaphor lacking practical meaning: i.e., Indigenous reparations” (Tuck & Yang 2012). Calls for decolonization have increased in recent years, with campaigns such as Black Lives Matter and the death of Trayvon Martin thrusting conversations of race and systemic racial discrimination into the forefront of popular culture. And as public opinion and agreeance for this de-colonial and DEIA mindset has not wavered, many industries and fields have shifted to reflect this. As a result, many businesses have adopted new practices, modified strategic plans, and launched public programs that aim to address and “solve” this issue. This can be seen clearly in the humanities as well as the medical industry, where the lasting effects of colonialism are seen most clearly. While there can be explicit examples of changed practices, many activists feel that “decolonization” has become just another buzzword that companies and industries throw around in response to public opinion, but they have not implemented any measurable changes to address the issue systematically. Because of this, it is important to explore and explain what “decolonization” means in practice and as a true mission, rather than what it has come to mean in the minds of the public. Conclusion 21 Archaeology has been addressing issues of colonialism in the field for years. Academics and researchers in the discipline have proposed and revised many iterations of collaborative, community-based decolonial and post-colonial work. This demonstrated commitment to the decolonial project allows archaeology and anthropology to prove a guide point for other disciplines to address their own institutional oppressive structures. Specifically, museums and heritage centers are well poised to adopt methods used in archaeology to aid in their own decolonial initiatives. Through examination of community-based participatory research methods in archaeology, museums can utilize a model to incorporate community work in their own institutions. 22 Chapter 3: Explanation and Evaluation of Case Studies Introduction As demonstrated in the case studies explored in this chapter, there are many strategies for engaging communities in archaeological work. While each project explored in this thesis has a museum or heritage center-based element to their engagement strategy, other community-based initiatives vary. This is in part due to the fact that communities are distinct in their experiences: no two communities are the same. Similarly, there is a high level of variation within the communities themselves, and the collective identity of a group is not stagnant or even homogenous. This results in a need for some individualization in a project’s approach to CBPR methods. Not all projects begin as community-prioritized or inclusionary efforts, but rather promotion of engagement is integrated in later field seasons. As discussed, decolonial thought in archaeology has evolved a great deal over the last few decades, and therefore projects that have been “in the field” for quite some time likely did not include community engagement in their inception. It is important to compare community-participatory strategies that are occurring at all stages of research, to consider what methods can be effective regardless of when they are implemented. Certainly, there can be analysis done to discover or represent the most effective methods, but this thesis would argue that to do so would be doing a disservice to the practical efforts for decolonial, community-based participatory methods. Many researchers have in fact published specific and rigid steps and elements that make “good” community engagement (Buchanan et. al., 2007; Kawulich, 2012). And while that can provide a useful framework through which to conceive of or evaluate your community-engagement efforts, as mentioned 23 later in this thesis, good community-engaged efforts are cyclical and iterative, with the true marker of good decolonial work being found in the consistent re-evaluation of community- response and values. During the course of this chapter, we will discuss and compare 4 case studies: XArch, Mohegan Field school, Meroë, and Quseir Community Archaeology Project. Both XArch and Mohegan were conceptualized at community-engaged projects, and those projects were essentially the first examples of archaeological research being done at the sites or within that community. In the case of the Mohegan Field School and Museum, the project served a specific purpose within the community, and therefore the community-engaged methodology was informed by that need. In contrast, the site at Meroë has a long history of archaeological work being done at the site, beginning as early as late 19th century. Similarly, while the Quseir Community Archaeology Project was created as a community-engaged project, it was not the first example of archaeology being done in the area, and rather, the area has a demonstrated history of archaeological projects. Because of this, Meroë and Quseir offer insight into how community-based projects can incorporate and engage with a community that has a varied, non- linear relationship with the site. In the case of the Mohegan Field school and the XArch project, those who self-identify as the local community have far more personal ties with the recent history of the site. Especially in the case of the MFS, where the site is part of the collective history and identity of the Tribe. However, in excavations such as Meroë and Quseir, relationships between the site and the community can become more nuanced and varied. This also creates a specific colonial environment to reflect upon - the community has recent interactions with the site that are tied to early 20th century excavations where the community was used as manual laborers to dig trenches as part of the excavations. 24 When discussing the case studies presented here, the analysis will focus on the level and type of community engagement that has occurred or is occurring at each site. Specifically, the discussion will focus on the point at which the project gave the community the platform or ability to contribute to the project, or the point at which they sought community input. The timeline for most effect input is crucial for determining the steps of any community engagement model. Additionally, the discussions of the case studies will include a reflection on how the researchers decided to define “community”. There are many ways a community can be defined, as communities are not stagnant, homogenous, and exist with permeable boundaries. However, the way that community is defined, and therefore the restrictions on who can or cannot participate, is critical as it sets up the parameters for every aspect of collaboration and engagement going forward. Finally, briefly discussed in each case is how the project assessed community interest and opinions, and again reflecting on when that assessment occurred. While there is often more variation in the how, this thesis hypothesizes that the analysis of those conditions will allow for a malleable and broadly applicable model for decolonial work using community-engagement methods. Meroë Previous Archaeological Research at Meroë Historically, archaeology at this site has focused on archaeometallurgy research focused primarily on analysis of Kushite iron production at Meroë, which is the most prominent non- architectural archaeological remains (Humphris, 2008, Charlton and Humphris 2017a). Archaeological field work, including other archeometallurgical projects, has taken place at Meroë for many decades. The Island of Meroë, a city in the Kushite Kingdom, includes Musawwarat es-Sufra and Naqa, which are both associated settlements and religious centers, and 25 Meroë, which is the capital of the settlement. Meroë was a “major power in the ancient world from the 8th century BCE to the 4th century CE. Meroë became the principal residence of the rulers, and from the 3rd century BCE onwards it was the site of most royal burials.” (UNESCO). Because of this historic and cultural significance, Meroë has been the subject of many academic projects. However, community-based work at the site with a rather new endeavor (Humphris & Bradshaw, 2017). The Royal City of Meroë is located on the east bank of the Nile, approximately 200 km north of Khartoum. Meroë is archaeologically and historically significant, having been the Royal Capital of the Kingdom of Kush from the early eighth century BCE to the fourth century CE. Meroë has long captured the attention of scholars from various disciplines (Shinnie, 1967). The city has been the focus of many archaeological projects throughout the last nearly two centuries, with a small-scale excavation occurring in 1834, led by Giuseppe Ferlini (Theroux, 2004), later followed by the 1844 excavation led by C. R. Lepsius (Clammer, 2009), and the archaeological project led by E. A. Wallis Budge in the years 1902 and 1905, with the findings of those excavations written and published in The Egyptian Sudan: its History and Monuments (1907). Due to the long history of excavations at Meroë, the number of artifacts recovered from the site, the number of resulting publications, and the local relationship with the land, excavations and research at Meroë in Sudan offer an excellent case study of the practical use of previously excavated archaeological materials in increasing community-collaboration and participation in current archaeological projects. Current Community work at Meroë The community-based archaeological work that is currently being done at the site of Royal City of Meroë in Sudan provides an excellent example of community and collaborative 26 archaeology being done in a project that was not created as a collaborative project. As Lemos writes, ‘From a postcolonial standpoint, Sudan and Nubia offer us an opportunity to investigate complexity in the past beyond oversimplifying colonial narratives entangled with the practice of modern archaeology in the region.” (2022). While some of the projects discussed in this thesis were conceived as community-based projects, the research done at Meroë has occurred periodically throughout the last century, and certainly did not historically include the community beyond manual labor (Humphris, 2017). However, the researchers at Meroë are now making a concerted effort to include community input and voices. The analysis of research at Meroë provides an opportunity to compare and contrast how projects are integrating community efforts at different phases of research and design and explore the reception and outcomes of those efforts. Communities are highly varied and fluid, and therefore it stands to reason that projects will need to utilize different strategies and programs when including community-work. The point of this thesis is not to argue that successful CBPR can only be achieved if a project is fully, thoroughly, and exclusively a community project from the inception, or to reduce the work of archaeologists engaging in research at sites with long-standing projects where colonial priorities have long been practiced. The community-based work at Meroë began with an exploration of what the community knows and thinks of the archaeological site, with specific considerations given to the fact that many current community members have family ties to the archaeology of the site, as they were used as trench diggers in earlier excavations. The community needs were identified initially though a community-wide survey which focused on exploring what the community already knew about the site as an archaeological project, what they knew about the history of the region, and what they understood about archaeology generally. The results of this survey informed the 27 subsequent community engagement efforts, which included a continuation of conversations through community meetings and forums, which served to provide a more robust understanding and integration of community needs. Through that, the primary results were the use of the Meroë Community Center and the production of a children's book. The current University College London (UCL) Qatar archaeological research project at the Royal City of Meroë has been ongoing for the last 6 years. UCL Qatar is a UCL campus located in Qatar that was created in partnership with the Qatar Foundation and is the first British University campus to open in Qatar (Rehren, 2011). UCL Qatar offers two master’s Programs, one in Library and Information Sciences and one in Museum Studies. As outlined in the National Vision 2023, UCL Qatar aims to increase the development of Qatar’s cultural heritage sector and strengthen the involvement of local communities in the heritage work being done in the region. UCL Qatar aims to achieve this through the creation and promotion of outreach initiatives, public lectures, and engagement of school students. This Vision greatly impacts and shapes the community-based efforts seen at Meroë currently and can be seen clearly in some of the decolonial and community-based initiatives at the site. As mentioned above, a community survey at Meroë served to inform community needs and priorities, but this project highlights the ways in which various stakeholders can shape a CBPR project. The Meroë project has been able to introduce community-based efforts into their project, with a focus on the evaluation and integration of community desires and opinions into the output and dissemination of archaeological research at the site (Bradshaw & Humphris, 2017; Schmidt, 2017). In scholars work, the project makes the distinction between community engagement and community archaeology/collaboration, explaining that although it is the official objective of the Qatar-Sudan Archaeological Project (QSAP) to aim for community collaboration, the variation in 28 the community identity and removed heritage found at their site(s) has resulted in community engagement and participation being more effective (Spencer et al., 2014). Through studies of the local population, the project scholars stress how much individual and community singularity variation there is, which they argue causes even community engagement to be difficult. The author’s approach to their community-engaged project was to set up interviews and surveys to assess the local community’s understanding of the archeological site, better understand the community’s ties and relationships to the site, and to understand local perceptions of the contemporary archaeological projects (Humphris & Bradshaw, 2017; Humphris et al., 2021). They cite that many community members understand archeological projects to be related to “history” and the past. Although some members had a more robust understanding and interest in the project specifically, the majority of the community understood the project and process more generally. The authors sought to focus their engagement efforts around a demographic breakdown of their community, as well as initiate a context-based inclusion of the local population (2017). They note that “the site’s physical location in a riverine residential locale fosters subtle but frequent(ly meaningful) interactions between ‘people’ and “place’: children play among the ruins, men pass through on their way to the fields, and local people sell souvenirs to tourists and offer camel rides around the pyramids. Festivals and gatherings are also held at the sites throughout the year” (2017). They informed the parameters of their engagement guideline by having the community fill out anonymous questionnaires containing qualitative questions assessing their knowledge of, personal ties with, and experience with the archaeological site. Additionally, they included questions regarding the demographics of those participating in the questionnaire, which provided the researchers with quantitative information about the composition of the community. Such questions included the community’s specific ideas about 29 “what is archaeology” (they reported many defined it as “history”, while others defined it as “old things”, and others still reported they thought of archaeology as “civilization”), as well as what the community members “knew about the city of Meroë ” (most responded with examples of the function of Meroë , however nearly a quarter indicated they knew nothing about the history or original function of the site) (2017). Concurrently with the analysis of their questionnaire, they began community meetings to address the community’s thoughts about the site, as well as their opinions about involvement or project goals for the continued archaeology of the site. The authors also note that there was a gender barrier or bias in their community forums, where the attendees were primarily male. They cited that future community-engaged efforts at the site should have a more targeted focus on increasing community involvement from all genders and ages. Community-engaged and participatory work needs to include community-informed design, which requires researchers to implement various tools and strategies for gauging community opinion(s) and interests. The National Institutes of Health released a report that describes community-engaged health research “as a continuum with increasing involvement, impact, trust, and communication flow that ranges from outreach (i.e., researchers provide communities with information) to shared leadership.” (Vaugh & Jacques, 2020) The researchers at Meroë utilized surveys as an initial assessment tool to identify the areas of research and information that the local community is interested in, which could then inform their method of outreach. The IAP2 Public Participation Toolkit includes surveys as a powerful technique to compile and provide feedback. Additionally, similar strategies for engagement and beginning stages of participatory work can be seen as part of a community needs assessment (Goodman et 30 al., 2014) or a method to work with communities through qualitative interviews (Watson & Marciano, 2015). When asked whether they would like to be more involved in archaeological activities, 44% of those surveyed responded that they wanted to learn more about local history, archaeological features, and the archaeologists themselves. This is addressed at a visitor center that has been opened at the site of Meroë. The center is designed to both inform the visitor of the archaeology being done to uncover and examine the ancient contexts and history and addresses and explores the contemporary population and Sudanese cultures as a whole (Dumitrum, 2019). The sharing of information through information repositories is another powerful tool citing in the IAP2 Public Participation Toolkit (2020). Beyond the utilization of material culture in the promotion of community-based and participatory archaeology and research practices, the team at Meroë have also deployed community-engagement strategies that center around increasing community knowledge and interest in the archaeological research being done at the site. This is a natural extension of the survey that was conducted, as a large number of the survey respondents indicated that they would like to learn more about the history at Meroë, including the archaeology that is being done and has been done at the site. A keyway they have engaged and encouraged participation at the site is by creating and publishing a children’s picture book that is “intended to raise awareness about archaeological work in Sudan among local children.” (2018) The book, ‘Sudan’s Ancient History: Hwida and Maawia Investigate Meroë ’s Iron’, explores and explains the archaeological work currently ongoing at the Royal City of Meroë, and was designed specifically to target the interest of a younger audience. Dr. Jane Humphris is quoted in a 2018 blog “We hope that the book continues to be used as an educational tool – both 31 in Sudan and Qatar – so that we can inspire the next generation to become more interested in preserving, protecting, and promoting cultural heritage.” (Humphris, 2018). The overall goal of this initiative is not only to address the community’s desire to learn more about the archaeological history of the site, but also to foster stewardship and interest in the history of Meroë within the younger generation, and to make the knowledge generated at the site accessible. Defining Community These methods of allowing community participants to define their community identity as well as decide their level of engagement with the project were especially important components of this project. As explored more later, allowing communities to self-identify is a crucial part of community-driven and collaborative work, as it reduces the researchers from imposing their own narrative and understanding onto the community. While the archaeology at Meroë did not initially incorporate community opinion and input into the research design and goals, the team was able to reevaluate their role in the community and what tools would be most beneficial for the research team to provide the community. This was in fact a mutually beneficial arrangement, as the outputs, such as the children’s book, are serving to increase community engagement and stewardship of the archaeological site. XArch Introduction XArch, a community-oriented archaeological project based at the University of Exeter, was a continuation of the Community Landscapes project, which was also based at the University of Exeter. Funded by the Heritage Lottery Fund, the purpose of XArch is to encourage local archaeological research in Devon (Simpson, 2009). This three-year project 32 focused on furthering community research through community-engaged practices with an emphasis on educational programs. During this project, researchers created and implemented workshops to groups and individuals in the community to teach them how to research and understand the development of the local settlement and landscapes. While this project did include community opinions, values, and engagement from the onset, similar to the Mohegan Field School, the research question addressed was created by external research agendas. This is similar to the work at Meroë and Quseir, where community-engagement is a critical part of the methodology at the site, but that engagement is somewhat secondary to the project’s overall research focus. Background The XArch project was run in Brayford, which is located in North Devon in Southwest England. Brayford is a village of approximately 400 people, as of 2000, with essentially no ethnic and social diversity, with the residents being primarily white British (http://www.brayford.org/geography.html). The village has a recorded history along the River Bray, with references to “Braeg”, “Brai”, “Hautebray”, and “Brayforde” in the 10th, 12th, 13th, and 16th centuries, respectively. During a previous excavation, which was run by amateurs, there was Roman pottery found which was believed to be related to a possible Roman settlement (Hawkin, 2011). Additionally, it was believed that there may have been a Roman iron smelting site associated with the settlement. The XArch project was created in part because of the Brayford Millennium Project, which allowed the community to be involved in landscaping and planting by the River Bray. Additionally, this Brayford Millennium Project indicated that the residents had an interest in 33 archaeology and heritage (Simpson, 2009). This is important because it allowed the archaeologists to create a project that was reflective of the community’s interests. As mentioned above, the XArch project was funded by the Heritage Lottery Fund. The Heritage Lottery Fund is a Government Funding Body in the UK which provides grants and other financial assistance to Heritage Projects. The Heritage Lottery Fund defines heritage as “Heritage can be anything from the past that you value and want to pass on to future generations.” (Heritage Lottery Fund). HLF was founded in 1994 and has invested over 6 billion in assistance to various projects since then, and they provide anywhere from £3,000 to 5 million dollars per project with three “levels'' of funding: £3,000 to £10,000, £10,000 to £250,000, and £250,000 to 5 million. Currently, the HLF has 5 “programmes'' or categories of eligible projects that qualify for funding. However, they have historically changed the types of programs periodically to address the most pressing heritage needs in the UK. Each project must apply for the funding, as they would any grant, and their application must be accepted by the Heritage Fund. The XArch project was funded through a previous program “Community Landscapes'' which served to fund projects that advanced community knowledge and interactions with local archaeology sites. Similarly, the XArch project’s primary goal was to educate the Devon Community about the archaeological research done in their area, as well as facilitate community involvement in the project. Through this, they aimed to build a more sustainable, collaborative environment. Because of the granting body the funds for the project, and previous project, came from, it can be argued that the XArch research was primed and predisposed to be a collaborative project. Purpose 34 Unlike the other case studies presented here, the XArch project was created with an evaluative goal, or a purpose of the project was to better understand or determine what community archaeology does for the community it impacts. The traditional research goals were not a priority at this site, as the data being collected was less about the excavated material or data, but rather about how the community participated in or felt about being involved in the project. This project defined “community” similarly to some of the other case studies, where it was largely self-defined. While this self-identification did have a proximity-like breakdown in how that self-identification was seen in practice, it was important to allow all those who wished to participate to be active members in the project. However, as mentioned, a notable component to the project was that many of the community members had prior experience in archaeological or archaeology-adjacent work done in the community. This project was meant to be a doorstep into the archaeological world and would give community members a chance to be involved in the archaeological process. Not only would this give the community members a greater sense of culture, heritage, and identity, but it was the hope of the project that this involvement would bolster their interest in heritage work broadly, thus benefiting the entire region’s heritage management (Simpson, 2009). Rather than have a project where academics are conducting the research, and the community is providing input and informing participatory efforts, the XArch project was designed to have the community actively, manually participating in the excavation. Members of the community were welcomed to participate in the excavation, do finds processing, create pottery, and do geophysical survey. This was overall categorized as a success of the project - having the community be physically involved in the project made those who came more interested in archaeology and more likely to contribute to heritage management of the 35 community in the future. Unfortunately, the majority of the community members who chose to participate in the excavations were those who already had an interest in the history and archaeology of the site, and therefore this participatory method was not as productive in bringing new community members into the archaeological space. The people who were most interested in participating and got the most satisfaction from participation were those who already were interested in or had experience with archaeology. The community engaged aspect did not necessarily bring in new practitioners. This is possibly because digging is an arduous process, and the excavations at Devon were not very interesting (pottery). However, the project did open up dialogue between the public and archaeologists, and those who did participate in any capacity found a large social satisfaction from their engagement. However, the project did deliver on the education goals: the researchers reported that the project “Increased knowledge and awareness of archaeology for those participating”, increased or maintained the desire to learn in school children, students, and volunteers. Similarly, the inclusion of university students could enable or promote new future research. The researchers did note that there was an economic benefit, as this excavation model saved on commercial archaeological firm costs. While the project and associated media coverage did increase the political interest and general awareness and appreciation for archaeology, to date there has not been any notable changes in policy or funding from the local government. One avenue for ongoing community engagement work that was identified was the use of the Taunton Museum in community outreach. When considering the role of Taunton Museum and the University of Exeter, the XArch program was reported to “Met corporate responsible/patrimony agendas of the University. '' (Hawkin, 2011). The thought is that those who did not have the interest to perform more manual archaeological tasks or were unable to 36 attend any portion of the sort XArch program, would be able to continue to learn about and participate in the history and archaeology of the area. Additionally, one of the goals that was not met by the excavation outreach was achieving a larger diversity in the participants. As mentioned above, the residents of Devon and Bradford are not very diverse, and so encouraging immediate community members only to participate made it so that goal was not reached. By identifying the Taunton Museum as a place to continue any community-engaged efforts, the researchers feel confident that a larger audience will be reached, and the participation in heritage would increase in the area as a whole (Hawkin, 2011) Mohegan Field School While many archaeological projects were born out of colonialism and served Western academics, some projects were created specifically to address the effects of colonialism. It is known that European settlers committed great atrocities against the Native population of North America, stripped Tribes of their land and cultural patrimony, and attempted to force individuals to assimilate into Western society. Indigenous groups are still greatly impacted by this strategic oppression (Atalay, 2008), but there have been a variety of efforts by Indigenous Groups and activists to return Indigenous lands and objects to Indigenous peoples. It is possible that archaeology and archaeological projects can serve this mission of combating the lasting effects of colonialism. The archaeology at the Mohegan Tribal Reservation is an example of such a project. Like other case studies mentioned in this chapter, the archaeological project at the Mohegan Reservation with the Mohegan Tribe was an Indigenous-led, collaborative project from its inception. However, unlike the other case studies, this project was created by the community, rather than created by an academic entity which then integrated the community into the project. This again differs from the other examples, as the definition of “the community” was done 37 exclusively by the community itself, and that definition actually occurs separately from the archaeological project. The Mohegan Archaeological Program for the Cultural and Community Programs Department and Mohegan Archaeological Field School (MAFS) was launched in 1995, one year after the Tribe received federal recognition. MAFS is governed by the Mohegan Council of Elders, who are an elected group of community members, and was created as a model to provide benefits and training to Mohegan students in archaeology. Cipolla writes that the “initial model for the field school had clear benefits for the Tribe, including training Mohegan students in archaeological methods.” (2016). The field school is a 20-year-old collaborative Indigenous Archaeology project with field seasons occurring annually. The project stressed and prioritized the fluid and evolving collaborative relationship between the Tribe and archaeologists (Cipolla, 2016). Rather than use community-based work as a method to continue otherwise colonial projects, the MAFS was created to increase and strengthen the sovereignty and agency of the Tribe, and the field work is inextricably linked with community-participation. The research done was conducted not for academic agendas, but the work was done for the Tribe. As a result, the original form of the Field School aimed to divorce the archaeological work and methods from its academic context. The work aimed to be more focused on the teaching and learning aspect of archaeology, and encouraged community members to become involved in the project and the education of the Tribe was paramount. Through this, the research being done was truly by, with, and for the tribe, and all of the work was the Tribe’s work, not an institution’s work. By framing the research in this way, the MAFS prioritized giving Tribal members an avenue through which to understand their past, present and future. 38 There are examples of tribal field projects that were created to aid in a bid for federal recognition, the Eastern Pequot Archaeological Field School, for example (Silliman, 2008), but the unique nature of this project is that it was born out of federal recognition. Federal recognition can be a very important designation for a Tribe, as it gives the Tribe and its members access to resources they would otherwise be ineligible for. Some of these benefits include funding opportunities from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Important in the context of archaeological and heritage work, being Federally recognized allows a Tribe to apply for or request financial assistance for grants to project their heritage and cultural resources. Additionally, being federally recognized means that the Bureau of Indian Affairs funds a Tribal Historic Preservation Officer for the Tribe (THPO). Following the establishment of the Tribal Historic Preservation office and officer for the Tribe, the Mohegan Tribal Preservation Office (MTHOP) was established, giving the Tribe more specific resources and assistance for heritage management (Bendremer, 2008). The MTHOP had a mission to “ensure the long-term preservation and protection of Mohegan sacred sites, traditional sites, archaeological sites, artefacts, and items of cultural patrimony.” (Cipolla, 2016). The establishment and implementation of the MTHOP is especially significant as it reinforces the sovereignty of the Tribe, as it consults with federal agencies. Additionally, the responsibilities of the State Historic Preservation Office were assumed by the MTHOP, which therefore eliminated any state oversight of historic preservation for the Tribe and Tribal lands, again strengthening Indigenous Sovereignty. The creation of the THPO office not only gave the Tribe access to funding sources, but it also provided an opportunity for collaboration with other THPOs. These connections and relationships greatly impacted and benefited the field school, giving the opportunity for expanding new “institutional” knowledge pathways and networks, and the collaborative nature of 39 these offices helped the field school bring in additional lectures and highlight the work being done by other tribes. This directly strengthened one of the missions of the MAFS, which is to empower the Tribe through continued education and training, which give Tribal members agency over their own history and culture. As a community-defined and community-led project, the MAFS included many Indigenous specific protocols. These methodological differences were a result of the priority of the project to respect Indigenous belief systems. One such protocol was the use of tobacco and prayer that occurred when objects were taken from the earth and unable to be returned. Another protocol that differentiates the MAFS from other archaeological projects globally is the publication restriction for archaeological research. This stems from a fear of looting and destruction that could result in disseminating sensitive information about the location and type of materials that are being excavated on the Reservation. Additionally, there is a precedent of Indigenous information being misrepresented, and the Elders and Tribal Council wanted to enact procedures and restrictions to ensure that the published materials were sensitive and accurate. Because of this, those involved in the MAFS worked with Tribal members to formulate a review process to prepare and clear any publications for distribution. This procedure is similar to the publication restrictions seen with other Tribes in the area (Silliman, 2008). Tantaquidgeon Museum The Tantaquidgeon Museum was built and operated by the Mohegan Tribe and serves as a way for the community and those who visit to learn about the Mohegan Tribe, as well as other Tribes in the area. Being an Indigenous Museum, the Tantaquidgeon Museum interprets and displays its holdings exactly as the Tribe want the object histories to be told. This operates unlike most other museums in the West, where the museum is controlled by non-Native individuals 40 who have control over how and when Indigenous stories are told. Because of this, the Museum is a significant educational and cultural tool for the Tribe to engage with their community through a decolonial mindset. The original structure was built in 1931 during the Great Depression, but that foundation built of Native stone has since been added onto. John Tantaquidgeon’s belief when founding the museum was that the more you learn about a group, the harder it is to hate them. This foundational philosophy has continued to guide the Museum and is reflected in its current mission which is “to share the Mohegan culture with the community and visitors that wish to experience and learn about the history of the Mohegan people from the Mohegan perspective.” (A Piece of History). In the museum visitors will find a variety of artifacts, interpretations, and immersive models. The orientation of the exhibits is meant to have the visitors travel through time to understand the Mohegan Tribe’s history in chronological order, starting with an immersive setting that allows the visitor to explore dugout canoes, gardens, wigwams, and staged models of Tribal Peoples. From there the museum uses a variety of traditional display, visual and auditory settings, and robust artifacts. Many of these artifacts were found during excavations at the Mohegan Field School, although some were donations and others are loans. This mix of traditional display and staged models allows the visitor to interact with and learn about the history of the Mohegan peoples in a robust and intimate way. Again, this is a highly community- oriented museum model that was born out of the collaborative and Indigenous-led MFS. Outreach and education are critical parts of engagement strategies, especially when the goal or mission of a CBP project is to undo previous colonial understanding of Indigenous histories. The 41 displays and labels do not shy away from the violent and bloody history of the Tribe, who suffered greatly at the hands of European settlers. The museum works in tandem with the MFS. Many of the artifacts in the museum were collected by the field school, and the interpretation was created as a joint project between the field school scholars and members of the tribe. Additionally, the participants in the field school, as well as other Indigenous field schools in the area, visit the museum every season to learn more about the history of the Mohegan Tribe and the way that community-led archaeology can contribute to displaying a community’s collective identity. This museum is a natural extension of the community-led and based archaeological work that is being done with the Mohegan Field School and offers an excellent opportunity to consider the bridge between archaeological collaborative methodologies and community-led museum practices. Quseir Community Archaeology Project Introduction The Community Archaeology Project at Quseir is an archaeological project that began in 1999 and seeks to involve local communities in all aspects of the excavation process. This community-engaged effort resulted in a Heritage Center, as well as a better working relationship between archaeologists and the local community. As can be true at sites of similar geographic location and time period, the community who lives near or on the site only recently discovered that they live in a historical and archaeological significant site. This new understanding inherently changes the way the community interacts with the landscape and their own heritage. Because of this, and the inevitable economic impact of excavations, archaeologists at Quseir sought to create a more collaborative excavation. Additionally, it was important that the community have a level of interaction and agency in their own heritage. The methodology of this 42 project involves the following key concepts: communication and collaboration, employment and training, public presentation, interviews and oral history, educational resources, photographic and video archive, and community-controlled merchandising (Moser, 2005). As archaeological projects can have a profound impact on social and cultural identity, community interactions with the landscape and their heritage, and economic industry and tourism, it is critical that researchers involve the community in all the above categories, to maximize the agency and resources of the community as stakeholders in their history. The modern city of Quseir is located 600 kilometers south of Cairo and 150 kilometers from the Nile. The archaeological site of Quseir al-Qadim, the focus of this section, is located approximately 8 kilometers away from the modern city. Quseir al-Qadim is a Roman site, 1st c BCE to 3rd c CE and was later Mamluke harbor during the 13th - 15th centuries CE (Tully, 2009). The first mention of the name “Quseir” is in the 13th century, during the rule of the Bahri mamluk sultan (Whitcomb & Johnson, 1978). Whitcomb and Johnson were particularly interested in the small Roman port at the site, but later excavations of Quseir revealed the site to be of great importance that they first asserted. As has been mentioned, it is important to consider and evaluate projects that had begun to include community voices at different stages of their projects. In the case of the CAPQ project, this specific iteration of archaeological work began as a community-based project, but there had been years’ worth of archaeological work already done at the site. The Oriental Institute of Chicago completed their first year of archaeological work, which consisted primarily of ground survey, in 1978 (Whitcomb & Johnson, 1978; Whitcomb, 1982). However, above ground investigation of the site began as early as 1939 (Sandford & Arkel, 1939), and a more thorough archaeological investigation of nearby sites has been conducted for the last century (Murray & 43 Derry, 1923; Frankfort, 1951; Kantor, 1954; Butzer & Hansen, 1968). As is common at archaeological sites in this geographic area, the relationship between the local community and the site is varied, sometimes being grounded in an individual’s heritage, but often relating to the community’s interactions with archaeological work and the history of the site. Gemma Tully writes “diverse, ongoing collaboration between archaeologists and local community members not only address issues of ownership and knowledge production, but also geographical distance and the divisions of politics, language and culture.” (2009). This diversity of interactions and identity makes Quseir an excellent platform for an exploration of community-based work. CAPQ “represents the first attempt of its kind to bridge the gap between the traditional archaeological boundaries of «expert» and «local» in Egypt.” (Tully, 2009). Background Between 1999 and 2003, five field seasons were completed at the site (Peacock et al. 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003). The plethora of archaeological materials were found, notably a fragment of papyrus that conclusively determined that the site was the Ptolemaic and Roman port of Myos Hormos, dated to 95 CE. When the site was later reoccupied in the 13th century CE, it became an important port for trade and passage for the pilgrimage to Mecca. The more modern settlement at Quseir was occupied by a series of rulers, from Ottoman to French, then English, and finally Egyptian. These occupations continued to see the site as a port and trading hub, but the city has now shifted from port and fishing hub to a robust tourist area. This modern and historical relationship with the site as area of travel and trade makes it an excellent area for collaborative work, as the community has a great stake in the work that is being done (Moser, 2005; Tully, 2009). Methods 44 The CAPQ project began with the explicit goal of strengthening community identities as well as contributing to the body of archaeological knowledge. The methodological strategy for the project was determined after the project received its first grant in 1998. This is significant as the project was a community-oriented entity since its inception, and the margin of expert and local knowledge and goals was prioritized before any excavation began. The initial exploration of what the local community deemed important resulted in the emphasis on the methodology of the excavation needing to be a “recipe” and offer robust opportunities for collaboration through the facilitating of sharing ideas (Tully, 2009). Although the researchers at the site commonly referred to the stakeholders as “expert” (archaeologists) and “local”, the project always aimed to consider and uplift the knowledge of the “nonspecialist”. This understanding that knowledge and expertise can come from more than just academics was crucial in engaging the community as well as new audiences. In an effort to best include community voices and agendas during the ongoing excavations, project researchers developed a methodology that valued education of the community as a method to engage and promote the work done at Quseir. This pedagogical method was crucial from the beginning and was identified as a primary strategy at the project’s inception (Phillips, 2001; Glazier, 2003; Moser, 2005). Critical in the methodological approach was that the community was defined as those within geographic proximity, and not as biological descendants. This was a unique definition for community at the time of its implementation and the site and remains a large guiding point in the community-based work as well as the success of the project. At the core of the project’s framework is communication and collaboration, which has naturally resulted in employment and training of archaeologists in the work that is being done, so they can best carry out the goals of CAPQ (Moser et. al, 2002). 45 The specifics of the methods used at CAPQ involved conducting interviews with both local residents and archaeologists which “examined the relationship between archaeology, archaeologists and members of the local community” (Tully, 2009). Interviews were determined to be an appropriate and effective tool, due to the project’s prioritization of oral history and knowledge transfer. Beyond the interviews and education, the CAPQ project aided the city in merchandising and tourism development to promote the agency and wishes of the community. Defining Community In the CAPQ project, the local community was defined as those who reside in, or around, the modern city of Quseir (Glazier, 2003). This definition was used as community and personal identities are not homogeneous or stagnant, and by using this definition over the classical “familiar ties” or “family roots” definition, the researchers were able to talk about intersecting identities. Western archaeologists often reject anything other than the use of biological descendent identity models when considering the community of a site (Singleton & Orser, 2003). However, this Western understanding of community neglects to understand community diaspora and localized identity that comes from years of interaction with an archaeological site. Similar to the Meroë community, there are many individuals whose strongest ties to the site come from years, sometimes generations, of geographic proximity to the archaeological site, as well as prior experience with understanding the history or archaeology of the site. This relationship must not be ignored or minimized, as it represents a large and robust sub-identity that is equally as valid to descendent identities. This is especially relevant at sites like Meroë and Quseir, where the site has a significant tourist contribution to the local community, and therefore strengthens the local community’s personal and collective stake in the understanding and use of the archaeological site. Additionally, using this method of defining community allows researchers to understand 46 how the past at Quseir is related to the present community and city. This community definition that is founded in proximity to the site strengthens understanding and incorporation of culture, heritage, and identity, which in turn strengthens the collaborative ability at the site. Tully writes that “Quseir is multifaceted and supports as many internal differences as similarities, thus it is important to avoid essentialism in the representation of the contemporary views of the community, just as with narratives of the past.” (2007). Outcomes The researchers at Quseir took the information gained from the interviews and documenting of oral histories and used them to inform and propose a method of engagement on the site. At the core of the interviews conducted was the idea that local and archaeological narratives must be used and presented equally. One such result was to prioritize local interpretations of objects over Western views and classifications of objects. This also aimed to encourage the use of “object life-ways”, which would then be incorporated into the Quseir heritage center (Tully, 2009). This was part of a “wider methodology aiming to construct museum displays that look at the whole life of an object” (Tully 2009) and the way different expertise and perspectives can create different ways of knowing objects. This is especially important when trying to continue the use of the past to understand the present, which was a key and grounding point throughout the project. As mentioned above, the creation of educational materials was another important outcome that was identified as a desirable and productive component of the project. The educational material was targeted at children and was designed to adhere to local and global educational standards and curriculum (Moser, 2005). The primary educational tool were children’s books, written about the Roman and Mamluke areas of the site. A key component of 47 these books was to give children the tools and agency to learn about the history of Quseir from a young age, which would set them up to have more understanding of how they can best be cultural stewards. Additionally, as the promotion and cultivation of tourism in the area was a significant component of the community-led portion of the project, creating the books with the community meant promoting tourist merchandise that was community informed and controlled. Much of the educational programming that was directed at school age kids was created in conjunction with the Quseir School Learning Program. Beyond the creation of children’s books, the researchers at the site also developed programs to further include and educate the community on the archaeology being done at Quseir. These programs were created with an understanding of cultural difference and variation, making them more accessible than Western educational materials. Discussion Collaboration, informed consent, and cultural considerations are key when considering ethical collaborative research (Kawulich, Barbara, & Ogletree, 2012). Historically, there has been an exploitation of community members, at archaeological and museum sites, where researchers and practitioners have used the research and methods to benefit their own agenda. The exploitation has included research projects which denied the community information, whether in the beginning or conclusion of a project, ostracization of community members who participated (voluntarily or not) in the research, research that was directly contrary to community needs and traditions, and direct harm. As has been explored in the above case studies, community-engaged strategies such as CBPR can help remove this exploitation, when CBPR is used to prioritize research that is co-constructed, issues of power and control should be considered, and research should be done by and for the community. 48 As can be seen in the case studies, successful and productive decolonial projects can be implemented during different stages of research and projects, which is crucial as many institutions are shifting from colonial-based projects but have already begun those initiatives. Instead of rejecting the entirety of those projects, using the tenets of CBPR to reevaluate and change methodologies can still result in effective collaborative efforts. It is, of course, most beneficial to begin a project as a collaboration and participatory project where the community’s needs and identities are identified at the onset of the project. But in fields where research and projects often have a long history of use, the ability to always integrate community-based priorities into the project is critical. Meroë is a perfect example of this, as the archaeological work at Meroë not only goes back a century, but the current interaction of work at Meroë, the project run out of UCL, had had several field seasons before community work was considered. However, using qualitative and evaluative methods of identifying community needs allowed the researchers to reorient and refocus their work to address community understanding and participation in the work at the site. As is the case with all community projects, this survey and meeting based assessment resulted in decolonial mitigation that was unique to the site itself. The researchers understood that education from an early age about the site was critical to promoting an interest and stake in the project, as well as setting up a foundation for collective community stewardship of its history. Also notable in the methodology used at Meroë was the ability for the community to choose its level of participation and identity for the duration of the project, as well as use multiple modes of engagement, such as children's books as well as a heritage center. This was meant to reach the community where and as they felt comfortable, to achieve the greatest level of engagement. 49 The Community Project as Quseir was operating under similar geographical and personal identity conditions as Meroë, where community identity was not solely based on biological or descendent based identity, but rather was largely based on personal proximity and understanding of the site. Additionally, while the archaeological work at Quseir does not have quite the same historical context, the community-engaged project was not the first archaeological work to be done at the site. Unlike Meroë, however, CAPQ did begin as a collaborative project where the researchers embedded themselves first as community-based practitioners, and not as archaeologists who integrated community work into later field seasons. That coupled with the ability of the community to identify based solely on their relationship to the site allowed for a decentering of archaeologists as experts and allowed for a deeper understanding of the intersecting identities and relationships the community had. XArch was also not the first work to be done at the site, however the previous work done did have a community-based focus as it prioritized including the local community in the work being done at the site. Because of this, XArch was able to utilize the previous amateur work done at the site and the continued interest by the community to fully include individuals in the work being done. While this did yield a certain level of success, due in no small measure to the baseline interest and understanding the community had to the site, its results were limited by the length of the project as well as the emphasis of manual work. Finally, the Mohegan Field School is a particularly important example of community- based archaeological work, as it was conceived of, initiated, and run by the community members. At no point during the creation of the project was there an outside “expert” who had an agenda or professional stake in conducting archaeological work at the Mohegan reservation. While the tribe did have experts weigh in and assist later in the project, the conception and decisions were 50 wholly theirs. Because of this, the project is an example of work that solely uses “community as expert”, and the inclusion of traditional academic and archaeological experts was used as a strengthening tool for the project. Not only did the work focus on the immediately identified interest of the community, but it also created a framework through which to train other individuals to be community-based stewards of not only the Mohegan Reservation and its history, but also community-based practitioners within the field broadly. This provides a stunning and unique example of how to use CBPR and other participatory, community-led scientific methods to distance the field of archaeology from its colonial roots as much as is possible without dismantling the discipline entirely. In conclusion, this chapter and its case studies serve to identify successful methods of community-based, decolonial work in archaeology. As discussed, the field of archaeology began its methodological and theoretical distancing from colonialism decades ago, and since then has gone through multiple iterations and evolution of decolonial work and thought. This long history of attempting to undo the effects and roots of colonialism has resulted in measurable success, as is evidenced in these case studies. Due to this success, these methods should be applied to work being done in museums. While it is true that some museums are currently attempting to utilize decolonial frameworks in their exhibitions, educational models, and institutional structures, they are doing so with only limited success. Or, in some cases, museums are not attempting to engage in decolonial thought at all. It may be fair, then, to categorize the field broadly and simply as “bad” at engaging in critical reflection of the lasting negative effects of their colonial roots. Drawing from the assessment and discussion of the above archaeological work, below is a proposed model which can be applied in every aspect of museum practice as a framework for 51 community-based participatory work, which will help museums untangle their problematic and inequitable roots through the promotion and elevation of their community. 52 Chapter 4: The Model Each project and community has its own variables, challenges and goals, and therefore there are naturally many different forms of engagement. However, the goal of this thesis is to propose a generalized model that is adaptable for museum projects. The approach taken in this thesis is to propose the development of a model for museum-based community engaged work based on community engaged work done in archaeology. have spent the past several decades working through the intellectual exercise of decolonization and community engaged work. As such, the field has become a point of comparison and guide when attempting to explore decolonization in the museum sector. Model For Iterative Community-Based Decolonial Work in Museums 1. Allow individuals to self-identify as “community members” 2. Discuss and evaluate the needs of the community 3. Recurrent assessment 1. Determining regular intervals to check-in with community members 2. Reflect and reevaluate the community needs and reactions. Step One This first step is crucial, as it allows the researchers, academics, and museum professionals to set up productive and collaborative relationships with community members. As individuals who are often tasked with the sole responsibility of outlining projects and objectives, professionals in the field(s) of archaeology and museums often insert their own agendas and narratives into their assessment of community organization and identities. By giving the community the sole responsibility of identifying themselves as members or nonmembers of the 53 community, they are setting up the project to operate with a “community-as-expert” focus. This helps remove biases and preconceived notions of who a community is, and what a community wants, and allows for a more collaborative and beneficial relationship. It also decenters museum staff as authority figures and instead places the authority and leadership in the hands of the community, which is a crucial element of CBPR. However, as communities are non-homogenous, there may be some challenges in navigating those identities. There may be instances where significant differences of opinions about community identities are seen. Even within communities, biases occur, and not all members may agree cohesively. However, the priority of allowing communities to self-identify means that the communities are the ones identifying and pointing out these differences, discrepancies, and biases, not the researchers. This still allows the project to have the best understanding of a community’s wants, needs, and challenges, and set up the project to have “community first” and “community as experts” at the core of the project. Step Two For a community-engaged project to be successfully implemented, the community needs should be evaluated before the creation of a project. This is important because as discussed thoroughly in this thesis, communities are fluid and community needs vary greatly from community to community. There is no one type of project that will work for every community. Additionally, many institutions make the error of conceptualizing a type of project they would like to involve the community in and then approach the community to assess how best to fit them into the project goals and narratives. This is counterproductive, as research and institutional goals often do not line up with the goals of individuals or groups of people. 54 Beginning a project with community input is especially important in museums, as they often have restrictions on their money, whether that is because of grant restrictions or donor restrictions. This is not without challenges, such as reconciling the differences of opinion held by local individuals at larger institutions, while simultaneously dealing with indifference within the communities they serve (Bolton, 2005). If a project in a museum is created without community involvement, the museum may find itself in a position where what the community wants and needs does not line up with the funds available, which would make the community want a moot point. Dr. Kalliopi Fouseki, a researcher at the University College London's Institute for Sustainable Heritage, addresses this specifically, that power dynamics must be taken into consideration when designing and implementing any collaborative or community-based museum project (2010). She uses the example of the 1807 exhibitions to show the challenges and successes of community projects in museums. She cites that a large problem encountered off the bat with the needs for ownership, agency, and empowerment that was often not offered to the community stakeholders, and the difficulty of museum staff to hand over that ownership. Additionally, tackling the complex or nuanced issues of racism and slavery can lead to tokenism in museums, especially when working with “community partners” often means working with a single or a small few in a community, but not the community as a whole. Obviously, this is no small issue to tackle, as communities are fluid and dynamic entities. The author found that utilizing a “narrative-drive” vs object driven and centered exhibition strategy reduced the tokenism and victimization of communities that often happen when topics of slavery are tackled. Museums can be seen, in a way, as a product of this ownership mindset; academics obtain the object, conduct research on it, and display the item along with their own interpretation 55 within a gallery. In this model, museums do not offer the viewer a chance to consider the item independently from the curator’s perspective. Similarly, museums are struggling to release curatorial and academic authority within their partnerships, and collaborative projects often begin with preset internal intentions and goals. Dr. Ames writes about how co-curation projects are difficult and often flawed from the onset, as museum professionals struggle to strike a balance between the museum’s wants and the community’s needs (2005). If a project or initiative is already in motion in a heritage institution, and they then want to involve the community more heavily or specifically, it is not productive to decide to pivot a program or exhibit to a community-based one without discussion with the community. As mentioned above, this can also create a scenario where the expectations of the community do not align with the museum's vision for the community project. This will create tension between museum staff and the community, as it will feel that the museum is tokenizing the community, rather than serving them. Step Three Once the project or initiative is underway, constant communication and reflection is imperative. Communities are not stagnant, and projects evolve depending on the resources available. Especially if this is the museum’s first time working with that community, there may be some trial and error for building successful programs. Therefore, the community-based museum work needs to be cyclical and iterative, building off the work and the process to increase the likelihood of a mutually beneficial project. The second half of the model emphasizes that the process of community-engagement, when done properly, can be just as important as the outcome. This is heavily based on Dr. Silverman’s work in museums. In the introductory chapter of Museum as Process (2014), 56 Silverman discusses the ways museums and collaborative efforts interact, making the claim that the process should be viewed as the result. That is to say, Silverman claims that even a failed museum/community interaction can be regarded as a success, as it provides crucial information in the same way a successful interaction would. Silverman also discusses how museums are involved in the translation of knowledge, particularly how this ability to translate relates to the process of community engagement. Collaboration is all about connection, and these connections and relationships must be sustainable to achieve a productive and healthy community partnership. Sustainability requires work, and Silverman offers “slow museology” as a way to cultivate these relationships. Often, museums and communities move through projects at different paces, and the author explains that this miscommunication about the pace and timing of projects is often the root cause of a failed partnership. By understanding this challenge, museums can approach partnerships with more flexibility and understanding, and this ability to negotiate and re-negotiate timelines and expectations can help facilitate more productive sustainable partnerships. Discussion As mentioned, there are museums and heritage centers that have already participated in community projects, and initiatives that aim to increase collaboration. In this subsection, some of those examples are discussed, with focus given to how they were set up their collaborative project, and how this model may have aided in these partnerships. Other engaged, participatory, and community-oriented projects have taken place in museums, and in some, researchers have proposed their own strategies for creating and evaluating these programs or initiatives. Given the framework of the proposed model, it can be implemented within an existing project or used as a framework to evaluate a completed initiative. One such project is the community work at the 57 Glenbow Museum. The Glenbow Museum in Calgary, Alberta, Canada has been implementing various forms of community engagement strategies for the last few decades (Contay, 2005). Beginning in the 1990s, the museum and its staff cultivated relationships with the Blackfoot peoples and other Indigenous communities. This collaborative work included the loaning of sacred objects for ceremonies as well as the creation of the First Nations Advisory Council. More recently, the museum began the process of co and collaboratively curating and designing exhibits at the museum. Contay, Director of Indigenous Studies at the Glenbow Museum describes that process reflecting on the challenges and opportunities this process created. The museum stressed that they wanted to hear all opinions, and not rush the process. They held bi-weekly or monthly meetings for an extended period to meet with tribal members. The museum staff quickly realized that pre-setting an agenda for the meetings was counterproductive, as internal museum policies and preferences were often at odds with the priorities and philosophy of the Blackfoot people. So, they created a system where they often had a skeleton agenda, but let the conservation evolve organically. These meetings were of various sizes, and additional meetings occurred when needed. Additionally, not all the meetings were for or with the museum staff. Occasionally, the meetings happened without the museum, or they were held not in English. This process revealed that the internal structure of exhibit design needs to be flexible or abandoned altogether when embarking on a collaborative project. The development of key concepts and language should be led by the Indigenous communities, and that often means altering what museum staff would normally focus on. Successful collaboration rests on the ability to be flexible, receptive, and available for long periods of time. The Recovering Voices initiative at the Smithsonian Institution is aimed at tackling issues of representation, accessibility, and community-led research in museums. This project prioritized 58 allowing Indigenous community members to self-identify and define their community, and the projects were led and designed to serve the needs of that community. Specifically, the Community Research Program (CPR) was created to support Indigenous designed and led projects which can utilize the Smithsonian’s holdings. The CRP allows researchers and tribes to apply to the program for funding and resources that can help create and facilitate projects that are community focused (Isaac, G et al., 2022). Projects have included used archival materials, revitalizing Indigenous languages, and digitization efforts. The aim of this paper was to evaluate the success and failures of the program. To do so, researchers at CRP conducted interviews with groups that previously engaged in projects through the program and focused on their individual and group experiences with the program. Through this project, they learned that applications for resources had been highly varied in content and themes. They also learned that many of the previous participants appreciated the model employed by the CRP, as funding is often hard to access outside of a university setting, which is a source of funding not usually accessible to Indigenous groups. In conclusion, the surveys and interviews done revealed that participants felt the program went beyond traditional collaborative projects and offered them a model for addressing more fundamental issues of representation, access, and power inequalities. Similarly, community collaboration often includes consultation with community representatives, especially if that community is already set up to have respected community leaders. One such example is the collaboration with Yup’ik elders to reexamine and reconnect with a collection of their materials at Berlin’s Royal Ethnological Museum. This project began in 1994, and its main goal was to preserve and make available the knowledge held within that collection (Fienup-Riordan, 2003). The journey that the Yup’ik elders took to Berlin to see their objects, and the challenges and successes of that journey. Specifically, each elder interacted with 59 the collection and each other. Significant amounts of time were spent talking about each object, with different members taking turns telling stories they had that they associated with parts of the collection. These stories and discussions evoked strong memories amongst the elders. They discussed and debated which stories were worth recording, what vocabulary should be associated with each object, and they sang songs and convened with the items in the collection. Typically, anthropologists go to Indigenous groups, and in a way bring the museum and curatorial decisions to them. Here, we see the tribal members making the journey to the museum and acting as their own authority on the objects they interacted with. This is a powerful tool to allow Indigenous people to study, interact with, and determine the value of each object, beyond what meaning anthropologists have already given an object. In this way, this form of collaboration is an incredibly powerful tool. In community-oriented archaeological projects, we often see examples of elders of a community providing information about objects, people, or places that were previously unknown by the researchers. In an article by Binney and Chaplin (2005) provides an example of a similar situation, whereby by bringing early twentieth century photographs of Māori elders, the elders and community members were able to reconnect and recover pieces of their history. The authors make a point to discuss the variety of ways photographs gave the Māori community access to their history, beginning with the level of accessibility photographs can provide. Members of the community, or any community, who may be unable to read are able to view and interpret photographs and discuss the contents of the photos with those around them. This provides an ease of access and use that cannot be understated. Chaplin and Binney also discuss how the elders recognizing and describing the photographs they saw confirmed or altered history as it was previously written. Historic records are written by the privileged and the elites and are 60 therefore often missing information or inaccurate all together (2005). By bringing photographs back to their community, researchers have the opportunity to truly listen and reflect on the information the communities are able to remember and can connect that knowledge with what is already believed. Other institutions have attempted to incorporate community engagement into their museum by encouraging the community to interact with a museum exhibit that has already been curated and is on display. This framework for engagement has a longer history than community- engagement that incorporates community voices. In 1978 “People’s Center” at New York’s American Museum of Natural History created a more participatory and accessible museum model. Visitors are encouraged to touch and interact with the exhibit, and the experience was curated to appeal to more than the historically “ideal” visitor. In this example, the museum introduces visitors and practitioners to the concept of the “new museum”, a museum that prioritizes participation and rejects the “look, don’t touch” philosophy previously used in museums (Hedges, 1978). Referencing Dr Ames work, an exhibit from the University of British Columbia Museum of Anthropology can be evaluated. This project began in a typical museum-led fashion, with internal hierarchies and goals, and later evolved into a more dynamic relationship between the museum and First Nations communities. Ames writes that the project found success in its ability to move beyond the typical-ideal scenarios and procedures, and instead focus on the discussions and dialogues held between tribal members and the museums. Through that framework, they found a more successful collaborative approach (2005). This follows the model proposed here, as the outcome of the projects was the understanding that successful collaboration requires 61 community involvement and an evaluation of community needs from the onset, but also that projects are dynamic depending on the implementation of community-needs based strategies. The 1999 exhibit The Arts of the Sikh Kingdoms, which was on display at the Victoria Albert Museum, and was an external component of a decades long community collaborative project (Nightingale, E., & Swallow, D. 2005). The collaboration for this project between the museum and the Sikh community began with the exhibition planning, where they quickly decided not to focus on Sikhism as a religion. They also identified the need to make their collection more accessible to the community it represents. Instead of religious imagery, the team went with a border theme of courtship, where Sikh culture and identity would be represented through art that focused on rulers and courts. This project was highly collaborative and included many stakeholders within the museum and Sikh communities. Cultivating relationships and inviting consultation were key in this project. These community partnerships helped interpret and cultivate the exhibit, as well as formulate educational materials and public outreach themes. They identified the desire amongst the community to focus on issues of language and outreach, hoping to heavily involve schools and education programs in the project. The conclusion of this project was to reflect on the importance of community engagement and collaboration, and to understand that communities can operate on a local as well as international scale. African Worlds, an exhibit at the Horniman Museum in London, was idea-driven but object-focused at its inception, but throughout the constant engagement process, this strategy changed (Sheldon, 2000). The museum took an engagement focused approach when designing and implementing this exhibit and its programming. They made sure to include a space for local black voices, as well as local artists and other stakeholders. They prioritized allowing the community to curate their own spaces and experiences. The exhibit making process was a 62 dialectic experience, which balanced the use of objects with a diverse set of narratives. This was especially important given that the collection had many pieces that lacked historical context, and were unable to be identified with any specificity, which made community voices and experiences all the more important. Finally, the team aimed for a level of alienation in the gallery, to reveal to the audience that these objects were removed from their original context and isolated from their heritage (2000). In this instance, the museum allowed the community to self-identify, and the individuals involved in the project were given space, to a degree, to engage with the exhibition as they felt was most beneficial. However, when reflecting upon the model, this project was designed without specific input from the beginning, and therefore the methods of display, interpretation, and engagement changed while the project was underway. Conclusion It is clear that this model can be successfully implemented in a variety of museum and heritage settings. Given the progress in community engagement that has been seen in archaeology in the last decades, museums have the potential to achieve the same success in decolonization. As explored above, museums are already participating in their own forms of community-work. However, not all museums have reached as high a level of engagement as they could. Often, museums include the community after a project has been conceived of and often not until after the project has begun. Additionally, they often define and decide the community themselves, based on the agenda of the institution and project. However, by using this model, museums can correct course and begin to produce better community-engaged work. Plainly, museums can take the work they have already done, and use this model as a framework through which to modify their strategies for engagement, and in instances where a museum has not begun 63 to engage their community, this model provides a thorough and adaptable starting point through which to reach a successful community-based outcome. 64 Chapter 5: Conclusion Museums, despite their best efforts, have not been able to successfully implement community-based work as a method of decolonial work. While museums certainly have used community work in their exhibits and programming, the methods they employ are often surface level. Furthermore, museums frequently incorporate the community into programs and initiatives after the programs have already been conceived or begun. Because of this, museums need to recognize and follow a model for community-based engaged work if they are going to successfully distance themselves from their colonial roots. Seeing as museums have only more recently begun the process of understanding and detangling the role of colonialism, imperialism, and white supremacy in the field, they are currently ill-equipped to produce that model themselves. Therefore, it is important that museums look outward, towards the heritage sector that has been successful in community work, as a means to advance their own decolonial agenda. Anthropology and archaeology have spent the last several decades attempting to detangle and dismantle the role of colonialism within the field. This work has taken many forms, with many grounding methodologies, and the evolution of those methods are not mutually exclusive, but certainly have been critiqued and refined over the years. Work of post-colonial, decolonial, Indigenous, feminist, and other theories in archaeology have led researchers to a more inclusive, conscious version of field work. Museums, in comparison, have only begun to reflect on their roles in upholding and advancing colonial agendas, but they have not been doing so for as long as archaeologists and anthropologists. Because of this, the decolonial work found in archaeology can provide a framework for decolonization in museums. 65 Through this lens, the model presented in the previous chapter, where museums should allow a community to self-identify, incorporate the community’s thoughts and needs in the initial planning, and establish an iterative evaluative process, proposes that community survey and input is critical at the formation of a community-based decolonial project, and that community input needs to be constantly reviewed and evaluated throughout the project. This can take the form of projects engaging with community members before the project “break ground” at all, like in the case of XArch or the Mohegan Field School, or it can mean taking an existing project and formulating a community-based participatory project within the context of the previous work, like the Meroë Archaeological project or the Quseir Archaeological project. Community- based work manifests itself in a variety of formats, as should be expected when working with diverse communities. There is no single way to incorporate or create decolonial, community work in archaeology, and therefore this model can be applied in any community, at any stage of a project. Within the walls of a museum, this model should be used to inform any community project that a museum intends to participate in. If a museum is beginning to incorporate their community in the museum space, they should first identify the community they would like to work with. This means allowing their community to self-identify and self-define. Once this community is identified, the museum staff should allow the community to tell the museum what type of project would be most beneficial to the community. This means that a museum should not make a decision about the initiatives, programs, or exhibits it would like to create and then involve the community. But rather, the museum should have an idea of the amount and type of resources they can use, and then attempt to fulfill the goals of the community. During the 66 project’s duration, the museum staff should regularly reassess how the project is meeting the community’s goals and whether those goals have changed. In the case where a museum has already begun a project and wants to involve the community, they should again assess how the community wishes to be involved in the project and how it can best suit the community’s needs. It is important to acknowledge that if a heritage institution has already begun a project, that the community desires may not align with the scope of resources of the project. To achieve true community-based participatory methods in engagement, the second step of this model is meant to be adaptable to serve both new and existing projects. While the first step, allowing the community to self-define, is critical both in the case of a project beginning from scratch and when modifying an existing project, it is responsible to anticipate that that process may look different. When reevaluating and restructuring an existing initiative or program, there are limitations given by how the community has already been defined by the museum. However, as this model is adaptable and has a certain level of malleability, an institution should still attempt to complete the first step, as it will allow for greater success when evaluating the community’s actual needs. Reevaluation is absolutely key when engaging in community-based, decolonial work. There is no single, simple solution to problems nor are there stagnant programs that do not require reassessment. And while museums have their own sets of KPIs and metrics they assess, having community-led work means having community-evaluated programs. Communities change, and have porous edges, with individuals changing their identities within the community. What worked initially in a program may not work later. Or, a program may have been implemented in response to a specific need of the community’s, and that need to longer exist. This is the reason for the evaluative steps of the model - community-based participatory methods 67 are cyclical and interactive. When setting up a program, there needs to be check points and standardized moments of evaluation, which are mutually decided upon, to ensure the continuing success of the program. The process is as important as the outcome in community-based participatory projects and relationships within museums (Silverman, 2014). Not every attempt at community-based project will have the same level of success, and some may not be considered successful at all. However, by accounting for the variability in the model, and by including the need for multiple, iterative points for assessment, the work done with any project can be used to inform the next community-based initiative. Building relationships with community groups and members takes time, trust needs to be built and a mutual understanding of institutional and community needs has to be established. Museums may feel discouraged to try community-engaged programs because the see forming those relationships as a formidable task, or perhaps they do not feel they have the resources to have a truly successful program. However, the point is not necessarily to create a perfect community program, but rather to put the museum in a position to continue to have beneficial, significant relationships with their community and stakeholders. Colonialism is deeply and systematically rooted in museums, and those effects cannot be undone overnight. Certainly, it has taken the fields of archaeology and anthropology decades of thought and projects to reach the point of community-work that they currently engage in. For museums to be able to truly participate in the decolonial project, they need to be committed to adopting a model that will aid in a systematic overhaul of how the institution serves its community. This model does that, and if used within the contexts of exhibits, outreach, programming, and other areas, it can help museums produce significant decolonial work. 68 BIBLIOGRAPHY Aiding the evolution of art museums to reflect the diversity of our country: Mellon Foundation. 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