by Shauna McRanor

My purpose today is to present an outline of some of the similarities and differences between the archival and archaeological professions in the context of material culture, to present an example of the utility of collaboration between the two disciplines, and to briefly introduce issues surrounding the location of culture and heritage in material remains.

Archivists and archaeologists share, to a certain extent, perspectives on material culture. In 1958, adding to Benedetto Croce's early-twentieth-century description of these heritage professionals as "inoffensive and beneficial little animals,"² Elio Lodolini explained their common ground this way:

The activity most similar to that of the archivist... seems to be that of the archaeologist... The individual documents can tell us very little - if not even deceive us - while, once the bond which originally connected documents is reconstructed, from them we get a perfect and complete view of the world, period, events to which the documents are bound. Exactly the same happens in the archaeological field, as, for instance, in the case of many stones casually found or removed from their place. They are nothing other than stones, with very little interest or value. But, if these stones are left where they originally were, or if their original position can be reconstructed, we do not any more have a heap of stones but the foundations of a temple, arena, or town. The stones provide us with direct and immediate evidence of civilization, tell us their history, and evoke the organization and life of a population.

The same can be said of a vase, a statue, a weapon, generally of an archaeological find clandestinely excavated, in which case it is no longer possible to establish its provenance. It becomes a simple curiosity like an autograph, an illuminated paper, a seal detached from the related document... and therefore having very little scientific interest.

But if a find is part of a series of finds, if the place where it was found is known, if it is possible to connect it with other finds, it becomes higher evidence of civilization, history, or cultural or commercial exchange. All the finds as a whole assume a scientific value immeasurable as compared to that of the sum of single pieces. And this is exactly the value of the document with respect to a whole archives.³

Fundamentally, then, archival and archaeological phenomena both may be considered the means and residue of human activity and as such, they are evidence of that activity. But as archaeologist Michael Shiffer has explained, "[i]n order for material entities... to serve as evidence, they must persist over time... Formation processes create the pathways leading from past behaviors to evidence of them in the present. By means of formation processes, material entities, sometimes greatly modified, are able to persist and become potential evidence."⁴ Methodologically, it is important to protect the integrity of this evidence - that is, the characteristics that combine to form its essential qualities. Archivists and archaeologists espouse similar principles to achieve this goal. In other terms, they share ideas about how to treat the objects of their science in order to preserve their probative qualities.

As Luciana Duranti has described for individual objects, "the diplomatic principle that each document is linked by a unique bond to the activity... producing it, a bond qualified by the function served by the document,"⁵ parallels the view of aggregations of records by archival science, of which diplomatics may be considered an integral part. Archival science stresses the importance of the relationships records have with their creator, with the activity in which they participate, and among themselves. Through the methodological principle of respect des fonds, which includes the sub-principles of provenance - the external integrity of the fonds - and original order - the internal integrity of the fonds - archivists could not be more explicit in their reverence for context and human agency. Where, exactly, the fonds is delimited, however, is an open question. It is true that there are splitters and lumpers in this regard: is the context one individual or organization or is it at the level of an entire nation? What one is attempting to do is essentially decide where the human relationships will remain connected and where they will be disconnected. It is obviously a challenging task, and one that will, to a greater or lesser degree, distort reality by trying to represent it. It should be acknowledged that the lines we draw to demarcate our focus of analysis are largely arbitrary; that is, they are not often self-contained units. The context of human activity is complex and constituted by a matrix of relationships. Heather MacNeil has posed the question: "Where in the frequently bewildering hierarchy of records creators do we locate the fonds, the unbreakable whole?" Any determination will probably fall far short of the entirety of things. Archival descriptions must be practical so they can be used.

Similarly, archaeologists must determine at what point on the cultural landscape their context begins and ends. Provenance (or provenience) for archaeologists refers to the three-dimensional situation of cultural materials (and features) in time and space; that is, their original positions (or order) in the ground, as established within a delimited "site." This becomes a context, but some have begun to question the way sites and, hence, contexts - are often analysed in isolation. For example, ancient trails have received little attention by archaeologists who have perceived the past as discrete units dotted about the landscape. That is, archaeologists, until recently, have rarely agonized over questions about "unbreakable wholes." Increasingly, however, they are beginning to view the remains of the past on a grander scale and in greater dimensions. It requires a reorientation of thought: should the cultural systems that connect sites be the focal point or should the individual sites continue to demand more attention? Landscape archaeology, for instance, is attempting the former by concentrating on the connections between the traditional units of analysis - trying to establish, if you will, a notion of an "infrangible archaeological whole."

But it might be apparent that all of this is not quite the same as archives - that Lodolini's analogy between the two sciences can only be carried so far. To an archaeologist, provenance and original order virtually coincide as the documentary context. In other words, while the internal integrity of the evidence is maintained by similar principles, the external integrity of the evidence - what an archivist would call provenance - belongs to another aspect of archaeology, and it is here that one sees the divergence of the two disciplines.

That is, to reconstitute human activity, archaeologists must engage in the interpretation of material culture, an exercise that archivists do not undertake. Therefore, to some degree, archivists and archaeologists differ in their conceptualization of material culture.

In essence, archaeology "is the study of the human cultural and social past whose goals are to narrate the sequent story of that past and to explain the events that composed it."⁶ In this way, the discipline is very similar to history. Before proceeding to the interpretive endeavours that they share with historians, however, archaeologists must first undertake the methods they hold in common with archivists. Indeed, the virtual destruction (archaeologists do, in fact, destroy sites) and reconstitution of evidence is a fundamental process to the larger narrative and explanatory goals of archaeology. More often than not, the archaeologist who recovers material is not the interpreter of that evidence. For this reason, archaeologists must keep good records; this is the only way to maintain the integrity of evidence - that is, of provenance and order - once it is removed from the ground. This, however, is only the stratigraphical context. To determine the context and creation of their use, that is, provenance and custodial history as the archivist understands them - often requires speculation and educated guesses on the part of the archaeologist. Even so, by viewing the means and residue of human activity in nomothetic terms - in other words, through a generalized understanding of the process in which material cultural phenomena originate and participate - is, I believe, an area of common theoretical ground for archaeologists (as anthropologists) and archivists.

Nevertheless, the issue of cultural context is a thorny one for the archaeologist. Indeed, whose cultural context is eventually explained and how meaningful is the explanation? Anthropologist Julie Cruikshank has made the point that "[p]hysical things... wrenched from their social and cultural setting become part of another semiotic sphere that cannot be redressed by contextual padding."⁷ and Susan Stewart has explained how acquiring things "creates the illusion of adequate representation of a world by first cutting objects out of specific contexts... and making them 'stand' for abstract wholes"⁸ - that is, an artifact, such as representational art, becomes a metonym for a culture by virtue of the object-dominated aesthetics of western institutions. This can be seen in the case of totem poles. These objects are, Cruikshank notes, " [o]ften spoken of as Northwest Coast 'art'," yet, she continues, "these works are also complex statements about social and ceremonial workings of the communities in which they were created."⁹ An archival perspective of totem poles may help to elucidate what Cruikshank means.

As defined by tribal laws, the feast or potlach complex represents the central sociopolitical institution among the First Nations of the North Coast of British Columbia (and among others, but these groups namely, the Coast Tsimshian, Gitanyow, Gitxsan, Nisga'a, a Southern Tsimshian - provide the context for this discussion.)¹⁰ The governing of land ownership occurs during a specific type of feast, wherein assuming a name, validating a crest,¹¹ or erecting a totem pole may be considered juridical acts demonstrating land tenure. Oral records of land ownership made during this feast are confirmed by tangible archival documents commonly known as totem poles (pts'aan). ¹² As with oral records, these totemic representations are validated by House chiefs. Such a "display of crests," anthropologist Marjorie Halpin has observed, "can be considered the visual dimension of the potlach: the visual celebration and confirmation of the social order. The power of these visual statements was such that they were not to be made during the course of ordinary day-to-day life. They were statements to be made only in front of witnesses who could attest to their propriety."¹³

Having such rigid rules govern the creation of totem poles indicates their importance as reliable records of land tenure; in fact, a House lacking poles signified that it was without territory.¹⁴ Thus, ensuring that these records remain powerful statements of land ownership through time requires controlled procedures of preservation to confer such authenticity. According to early-twentieth-century ethnographer Marius Barbeau, however, totem poles stood for as many years as nature would permit, but were then destroyed after they fell, either to decay or by use as fuel, and never replaced.¹⁵ This contradicts anthropologist Wilson Duff, who observed that, at the end of its lifespan, reportedly about two hundred years, a new pole was erected on the same ground.¹⁶ Co-requisite with this occurrence was another feast, which thereby provided for an authentic copy of the pole that needed to be replaced.¹⁷ Accordingly, the reliability and hence evidential force of the original was transferred to its successor.

Totem poles, then, functionally resemble, for instance, the legal archival documents that would be found among the "archives treasure" of medieval European authorities."¹⁸ Endowed with public faith, the poles reinforce the rights and privileges of Houses as received from the original maternal ancestors and maintained by their chiefs. The significance of this meaning, however, is lost for those who believe that preservation is only attainable in sterile, climate-controlled museums; it assumes that a totem pole is simply a work of art, an end-product or, worse yet, a relic of the past with no current administrative relevance to its creators. Denied of their context of creation and their place on the land, the poles are effectively eviscerated of their archival nature and their probatory power as proof of action. Within their endemic juridical systems, on the other hand, totem poles are "instruments... perfectly conceived for the registration of acts of juridical significance through predetermined formalities,"¹⁹ which confer upon these records the greatest authority and trustworthiness as evidence that, when carefully transmitted and preserved intact - that is, in association with the oral and the other material records of their creator - may be presumed truthful.²⁰

The example of totem poles highlights the utility of bridging the arbitrary gaps that sometimes separate disciplines. As Schiffer has commented, " [t]he extreme division of labor on materials from the historical and archaeological records enables research by well-trained specialists, but it also militates against the emergence of integrated, unified approaches to the study of the human past."²¹ And also, of course, the human present. For example, feasts are still held and poles are still raised. Archival science is, in part, an extension of archaeology; archaeology frequently uncovers the material that, in the contemporary world, would be the object of study for the archivist. Conversely, archaeology is, in part, an extension of archival science; the archival endeavour is occasionally the object of study for the archaeologist who finds the physical remains of this activity. What should always be borne in mind is that both archivists and archaeologists are trying to maintain knowledge, not just information. Neither science is in the business of just preserving raw data.

Therefore, discussion between archaeologists and archivists about their respective philosophies toward material culture would likely enrich both disciplines and foster further collaboration. To form a heritage continuum, we must reconnect actions, words, and things. In other words, "[to] be meaningful," says Richard Handler, "objects must be surrounded by other objects, by words, by human activity."²² Certainly, archivists and archaeologists both study actions and things, but archaeologists, unlike archivists, are frequently without words. Of course, when they do have words, such as records in the form of clay tablets, the line between the two disciplines becomes blurred; indeed, archivists need not limit themselves to paper and parchment. But when archaeologists do not have words to directly convey something to them about human activity, they attempt to indirectly infer this from the "nontextual" objects. One might be able to see how this could be problematic and even contentious in cross-cultural settings. The example of totem poles shows how things are, from an archival perspective, embedded in social relations and how they are the residue of human activity. If their purpose is to remain evident, these objects cannot be analysed in a vacuum, separated from their context of use. It is here - in the context of use - that the words will be found in the form of oral tradition. This is not to suggest that archaeologists are unaware of this. As Cruikshank has mentioned, "[a]rchaeologists have sometimes remarked that were it not for oral tradition, remarkably little could be known about the past of subarctic peoples because so much of their material culture perished... Oral tradition is... critical for passing on essential information. It weighs nothing and can accompany a traveller anywhere, but it rarely appears in museums." Thus, even though oral tradition does not conform to the idea of culture that tends to be emphasized by museums - that is, one based in physical objects - does that mean oral tradition is not the stuff of heritage? Of course not, and this is why museums increasingly face "challenges about the use of things to represent culture."²³

Archivists, too, should be wary of concentrating too much on things. In some cultures, the spoken word is primary and the material objects are secondary; they essentially provide illustrations for particularly meaningful oral accounts.²⁴ There seems to be a faith that all will endure the way it should, whereas the western standpoint often dwells on making permanent what is perceived as impermanent - a distrust of time and memory that compels freezing the moment for eternity. This is not to suggest that there is something inherently wrong with this goal, but alternative perspectives may prove useful to archivists, insofar as they can help to explain archival theory.

Although archival material already provides a nexus between words and things, and in this way is different from most archaeological artifacts, the verbal aspect of these objects is fixed, increasing the chances that this material will be perceived as autonomous and self-explanatory - that is, as end-products. The obligatory connection between totem poles and oral records exaggerates the originary, necessary, and determined archival bond that exists between the records and their creator, with the activities in which they participate, and among the records themselves. It also provides a good example of why such a bond must be maintained. The live, spoken word cannot, by definition, be disembodied, attached to the totem pole, and analysed later. Thus, to ensure the content and the context are preserved, one must experience the activity, hear the spoken words that condition the object, and pass on or "migrate" that knowledge in culturally appropriate ways, which often means orally: the next is always conditioned by the last. This social process demonstrates at least three things: (1) it emphasizes that the objects of recordmaking and recordkeeping are essentially born of, and participate in, human activity, which is invariably "cultural"; (2) it epitomizes the notion that the "infrangible" whole - the fonds - is always greater than the sum of its parts; and (3) it shows how the first and second points - that is, the provenancial (external) and documentary (intemal) contexts - are both indispensable to understanding culture and heritage through archives.

But there are archival practices that seem to insist upon locating culture and heritage solely in things, for example, documentation strategy and the application of intrinsic value. In terms of the former, it is the notion of an all-encompassing repository to represent anyone and everyone through "archives" that creates the perception that, to have history, it must be fixed in some form and protectively stored in an institution - that is, it must be captured in an objectified way to be saved. As for intrinsic value deriving from, for example, aesthetic or artistic qualities or unique or curious features, the appraisal of archives based on such characteristics which arise from their physicality - i.e., as ends - rather than from the circumstances of their creation - i.e., as means - is fundamentally misguided.²⁵

Such a complex phenomenon as culture cannot be considered so one-dimensional as to be represented only in things. Yet there is undeniably a fetishism of material culture that animates governments and citizens, as Handler says, "in their zeal to preserve their 'heritage.'" Indeed, Handler continues, "the idea that objects, or material culture, can epitomize collective identity - and, epitomizing it, be considered as the property of the collectivity - is rarely disputed."²⁶ Moreover, this perception and use of the term property is reflected and reinforced in the law of many countries. But as law professors Lyndel Prott and Patrick O'Keefe have argued, "the existing legal concept of 'property' does not, and should not try to, cover all that evidence of human life that we are trying to preserve: those things and traditions that express the way of life and thought of a particular society... On the other hand, they can be encompassed by the term 'heritage' which also embodies the notion of inheritance and handing on." Quite certainly, "'property' does not incorporate concepts of duty to preserve and protect."²⁷

As professionals with a responsibility to preserve and protect parts of heritage, it is incumbent upon archaeologists and archivists to continue to broaden our views of culture to much more than the objects that are our focus. The isolated compartments within each discipline has historically carried out their activities need to be deconstructed and further discussion between the two sciences should be undertaken. I believe there is some common ground - that there is a heritage continuum - and I think that the expertise that both bring to their respective fields can also be of mutual benefit.

ENDNOTES

1 Paper presented at the annual conference of the Archives Association of British Columbia for the session "Archives and the Heritage Continuum," Vancouver, B.C., 25 April 1997.

3 Lodolini, "War of Independence," p. 45, n. 17, citing from idem, "Biblioteche e archivi storici dei Comuni," Accademie e Biblioteche d'Italia 26, no. 5 (1958), pp. 5-6.

4 Michael B. Schiffer, 'Formation Processes of the Historical and Archaeological Records," in Learning From Things: Method and Theory of Material Culture Studies, edited by W. David Kingery (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1996), p. 74.

5 Luciana Duranti, "Diplomatics: New Uses for an Old Science (Part II)," Archivaria 29 (Winter 1989-90), p. 15.

6 Gordon R. Willey and Jeremy A. Sabloff, A History of American Archaeology, 2nd ed. (N.Y.: W.H. Freeman and Comparty, 1980), p. 1. Emphasis in original.

7 Julie Cruikshank, "Oral Tradition and Material Culture: Multiplying the Meanings of 'Words' and 'Things,"' Anthropology Today 8, No. 3 (June 1992), p. 7.

8 James Clifford, "'Objects and Selves - an Afterword," in Objects and Others: Essays on Museums and Material Culture, edited by George W. Stocking, Jr. (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985), p. 239, following Susan Stewart, On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection (Baltimore, 1984). Emphasis added.

9 Cruikshank, "Oral Tradition," p. 8.

10 The word "potlach" derives from the Chinook Jargon (trade language) term paalhac.. On the North Coast of B.C., the endemic name for the feast has been noted as, for example, yaakw, yaokw, or yukw. See Marjorie Halpin and Margaret Seguin, "Tsimshian Peoples: Southem Tsimshian, Nishga, and Gitksan," in Handbook of North American Indians, Vol 7, Northwest Coast, edited by Wayne Suttles (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1990), p. 278; G.B. Inglis, D.R. Hudson, B.R. Rigsby, and B. Rigsby, "Tsimshian of British Columbia Since 1900," in Handbook of North American Indians, Vol. 7, Northwest Coast, edited by Wayne Suttles (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1990), p. 291. What is described in the present article for the feast is exclusive to the First Nations of the North Coast of B.C. Variations of the potlach system, however, are integral to aboriginal communities along the Northwest Coast of North America and parts of the adjacent interior.

11 Marjorie Halpin has explained that "Tsimshian crests are a series of named entities or objects, usually referring to animals, which were owned by [the matrilineal] groups who were privileged to represent them according to certain rules... [Crests] were a legacy from myth time, acquired by the ancestors, and held in perpetuity by their lineal descendants." See her chapter, "The Structure of Tsimshian Totemism," in The Tsimshian and Their Neighbours of the North Pacific Coast, edited by Jay Miller and Carol M. Eastman (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1984), pp. 17-18.

12 Nisga'a Tribal Council, Nisga'a: People of the Nass River (Gitlakdamiks: Nisga'a Tribal Council, 1993), p. 120; Julie Cruikshank, "Invention of Anthropology in British Columbia's Supreme Court: Oral Tradition as Evidence in Delgamuukw v. B.C." B.C. Studies 95 (Autumn 1992), p. 25; idem, "'Oral Tradition and Oral History: Reviewing Some Issues," Canadian Historical Review 75, no. 3 (1994), p. 412. As Gisday Wa and Delgam Uukw have related in The Spirit in the Land: The Opening Statement of the Gitksan and Wet'suwet'en Hereditary Chiefs in the Supreme Court of British Columbia, May 11, 1987 (Gabriola, B.C.: Reflections, 1989), p. 26, there is evidence to suggest that the totem pole was, long ago, preceded by a cane which would be touched to the ground "to signify the power of the... house... merging with that of the land." Michael D. Blackstock, in "Gyetim Gan: Faces in the Forest" (M.A. thesis, Departinent of First Nations Studies, University of Northern British Columbia, 1996), p. 13, has commented that he prefers the term "crest pole" to "totem pole" since "First Nations people do not 'pray' to a crest pole as a totemic god." Although perhaps a misnomer, I have used the "totem pole" designation simply because it is the most widely recognized name for the object it represents.

13 Halpin, "Tsimshian Totemism," p. 20. Emphasis added.

14 John J. Cove, "The Gitksan Traditional Concept of Land Ownership," Anthropologica 24 (1982), p. 9.

15 Marius Barbeau, Totem Poles of the Gitksan, Upper Skeena River, British Columbia, National Museum of Canada Anthropological Series No. 12 (Ottawa, 1929), p. 7.

16 Wilson Duff, Histories, Territories and Laws of the Kitwancool, Anthropolgy in British Columbia, Memoir No. 4, Reprint (Victoria: Royal British Columbia Museum, 1989), p. 18. The Kitwancool refer to themselves as the Gitanyow.

17 An "authentic copy" represents "a copy certified by officials authorized to execute such a function, so as to render it legally admissible in evidence." See Luciana Duranti, "Diplomatics: New Uses for an Old Science," Archivaria 28 (Summer 1989), p. 21.

18 For a definition of "archives treasure," see Luciana Duranti, "The Concept of Appraisal and Archival Theory," American Archivist 57 (Spring 1994), p. 333; idem, "Medieval Universities and Archives," Archivaria 38 (Fall 1994), p. 42.

19 Gian Giacomo Fissore, "Introduction," in Archives Before Writing: Proceedings of the International Colloquium Oriolo Roman, October 23-25, 1991, edited by P. Ferioli, E. Fiandra, G. Giacomo Fissore, and M. Frangipane (Rome: Ministero beni Culturali, Ufficio Centrale beni Archivistici, 1994), p. 11.

20 For a fuller discussion of aboriginal oral records, especially in their connection to totem poles, rock art, tree art, tapes, and transcripts, the reader is referred to my article, "Maintaining the Reliability of Aboriginal Oral Records and their Material Manifestations: Implications for Archival Practice," which will appear in Archivaria 43 (Spring 1997).

21 Schiffer, "Formation Processes," p. 76.

22 Richard Handler, "'On the Valuing of Museum Objects," Museum Anthropology 16, No. 1 (1992), p. 21, cited in Julie Cruikshank, "Imperfect Translations: Rethinking Objects of Ethnographic Collection," Museum Anthropology 19, no. 1 (1995), p. 35. Emphasis added.

23 Cruikshank, "Oral Tradition," p. 5. Emphasis in original.

24 Cruikshank, "Imperfect Translations," p. 28.

25 For more on intrinsic value, see my article, "A Critical Analysis of Intrinsic Value," American Archivist, forthcoming, which is a commentary to the paper by the Committee on Intrinsic Value, "Intrinsic Value in Archival Materials," in A Modern Archives Reader, edited by M. Daniels and T. Walch (Washington: NARS, 1984).

26 Richard Handler, "On Having a Culture: Nationalism and the Preservation of Quebec's Patrimojne," in Objects and Others: Essays on Museums and Material Culture, edited by George W. Stocking Jr. (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985), p. 194. Emphasis added.

27 Lyndel V. Prott and Patrick J. O'Keefe, "'Cultural Heritage' or 'Cultural Property'?" International Journal of Cultural Property 1, no. 2 (1992), p. 307. Emphasis added.

Shauna McRanor is a student in the MAS programme at UBC.

Reprinted from the AABC Newsletter, Summer 1997, Vol. 7, No. 3.
© 1997 Archives Association of British Columbia

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