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SOME DIMENSIONS OF THE POTHUNTING PROBLEM
Thomas F. King
Introduction
My purpose in this article is to explore the magnitude and other dimensions of the looting and vandalism problem, which following standard American practice I'll refer to as the pothunting problem for short. This is not as simple a task as it might seem. When one refers to "magnitude" and "dimensions," one naturally tends to think about numbers -- in this case, how many archaeological sites have been potted, how much information has been lost, how many violators have been prosecuted. We have some information on numbers, some of which will be presented below, but the reliability of our figures is often, if not usually, questionable. It is even more questionable whether it would be worth expending the time and effort needed to make our numbers more accurate. Numbers of sites damaged and quantity of information lost are important, but they measure only a few of the problem's dimensions, and provide only a dry and dusty reflection of its magnitude. Measuring the scope of the problem also requires some shared understanding of what the problem is. Each of us tends to worry about pothunting within his or her own frame of reference and therefore, to define it somewhat differently. The federal land manager tends to think about it as a land management problem -- violation of the Archaeological Resources Protection Act and misuse of public property. The state archaeologist tends to think about it in the context of his or her own state -- its laws and administrative traditions, its particular kinds of archaeological resources, and the psychology of its citizens. The non-governmental archaeologist tends to think about its impacts on his or her own research interests. Archaeologists who work in the United States and those who work elsewhere, though they have very similar concerns about the problem, tend to view it with reference to the geography and politics of their research areas. In this article "pothunting" means all kinds of damage done to archaeological sites in the interests of artifact collecting, commercial traffic in artifacts, and plain hell raising. It does not include damage done as a result of such activities as land development. I take the term to include such damage wherever it occurs, not just in the United States and not just on public lands. Finally, I take the term to include such damage regardless of whether it is illegal. With this definition in mind, let us look at some aspects of the problem that reflect its magnitude and, I hope, may provide a basis for evaluating different approaches to its solution.
The Geographic Scope of the Problem
Pothunting is a phenomenon that expresses itself on public lands and private, in all nations. Lately, pothunting in the southwestern United States has received considerable publicity. Studies have been conducted by the General Accounting Office (GAO 1987) and by a subcommittee of the Committee on Interior and Insular Affairs in the House of Representatives (Subcommittee... 1988), as well as by federal agencies. These document a problem that has reached crisis proportions. Although at present the best documentation of the problem comes from the Southwest, it would be a serious error to view it as a southwestern problem. Although numbers tend to be lacking, anecdotal examples of large-scale pothunting abound from areas outside the Southwest. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and South Dakota State Historic Preservation Officer (SHPO), for example, are fighting pothunters at the Anton Rygh site, a prehistoric site on the east side of the Missouri River in South Dakota; pothunters have been observed operating there who have come from South Dakota, North Dakota, and Wyoming, according to their auto license plates (Allison Brooks personal communication 1989). On the Hanford Reach of the Columbia River in Washington State, I recently photographed a massive prehistoric site complex that has been potted so heavily for so many years that its sandy deposits have been largely blown away. Artifacts and fragments of human skeletons were scattered on the deflated surface, but fresh potholes indicated that digging there continues. Much attention has been focussed on the pothunting problem on federal lands, and rightly so; such pothunting not only violates the Archaeological Resources Protection Act (ARPA) and the Antiquities Act, but can be defined as theft of government property. But again, to view the matter as simply a problem of protecting the federal estate is to miss its larger dimensions, and hence to fail to address them. The fact that a site is on private land makes its destruction no less a loss for science and humanity; it simply, in most cases, makes it legal. Pothunting on private land, with or without the permission of landowners, is extensive in the United States and elsewhere. As usual, our evidence of the problem tends to be anecdotal. The now-famous Slack Farm Site in Kentucky, for example, was mined for artifacts until public outrage forced the work to be closed (c.f. Arden 1989). In 1988, with the Advisory Council on Historic Preservation, I visited Navajo Springs, a large Chacoan Anasazi site that had been the scene of weekend pothunting parties sponsored by its owner until the Navajo Nation was able to purchase and protect it; the site was a moonscape of potholes, sprinkled with torn-apart architecture and broken artifacts. Pothunting is also not simply a domestic problem. The depredations of pothunters in overseas venues are well known, reported as they are regularly both in the professional literature and in popular publications. The October, 1988 issue of National Geographic, for example, reported -- rather incidentally to the main point of the article -- the massive pothunting of Sipan, a complex of Moche sites in Peru (Alva 1988), and the Wall Street Journal on September 8, 1988 ran an article titled "how grave looter at a Mexican site drools over relics" (Kandell 1988). Public distaste for the practice notwithstanding, such depredations continue unchecked.
Some Numbers
Understanding how limited they are as true indicators of the problem's magnitude, let us turn to such figures as we have about pothunting. Figure 1, developed by the National Park Service, represents three things -- the number of incidents of pothunting on public land in the U.S. reported to the Park Service by federal agencies; the number of arrests under ARPA and other federal statutes, and the number of convictions (NPS 1989). As Figure 1 shows, we are experiencing an increase in reported incidents of pothunting on federal lands. Whether this reflects an increase in pothunting is open to question; the high level of attention recently focussed on the problem by federal agencies and the Congress is undoubtedly causing incidents to be reported that in the past would have gone unremarked. The impression of those who prepared the reports, however, according to the House subcommittee and the GAO, is that commercial pothunting, at least, is on the rise (GAO 1987:21; Subcommittee... 1988:5). "Casual pothunting" -- that is, pothunting for recreation -- is reported by some to be stabilizing or even declining, on federal lands (GAO 1987:21). Of course, reported incidents are only the tip of the iceberg. The National Park Service has estimated, in testimony to the U.S. Senate, that reported incidents represent only about one-quarter of the total of actual incidents in any given year (NPS 1989). What is most clear from this graph, however, is the relationship among the level of potting, the level of investigations and arrests, and the level of prosecutions. Clearly -- and especially when you consider that the actual incident level is four times larger than the reported level -- the vast majority of pothunters on the public lands are getting away with it. The GAO estimates that there are some 2 million archaeological sites on federal lands in the Southwest (GAO 1987:16). It indicates that at least one third of the KNOWN sites there have been potted to some extent; the House subcommittee report puts the percentage at between 50 and 90 percent (GAO 1987:22-3; Subcommittee...1988:6-8). If we extrapolate the lowest of these estimates to the total estimated universe of sites, this would mean that some 660,000 sites have been potted on federal lands in the Southwest alone. The House subcommittee also reports that as of 1987 there had been a total of 233 criminal investigations of pothunting incidents, and 44 convictions under ARPA and other statutes. If 660,000 sites have been potted, this suggests that the potting of approximately one site in 2,833 is being investigated, and the potters of one site in some 15,000 are being convicted. Of course, these estimates are painfully inexact, and extrapolating from them not only compounds whatever errors are present but results in the mixing of a good many apples and oranges. The numbers are all we have with which to work, however, and they comport well with the anecdotal evidence and the observations of workers in the field. The pothunting problem -- especially the problem of commercial pothunting -- is a big one on the public lands, and it is getting bigger. If the pothunting problem is large and growing larger on public lands, what is happening elsewhere? The short answer is that we really do not know, but we must assume that pothunting is going on at least as frequently on non-federal lands as on the federal estate, and possibly more frequently. The Bureau of Indian Affairs, in testimony to the House subcommittee, has estimated that between 1980 and 1987 pothunting increased by a thousand percent on the Navajo Reservation; presumably similar numbers would apply on many other Indian reservations. The subcommittee speculated that this increase may have reflected a shift in potting patterns away from federal lands in response to increased ARPA enforcement (Subcommittee...1988:10). This, then is another important dimension of the problem: enforcement of ARPA and other protective laws on the federal lands, paltry as this enforcement has been, may be increasing the level of potting on non-federal lands. No one has collected usable figures regarding pothunting on private land, but if the problem is increasing on the federal lands, where ARPA applies and prosecutions occasionally occur, and on Indian lands where ARPA applies though prosecutions rarely occur, it has to be assumed that it is increasing even more on private and other non-federal lands. We lack useful figures for pothunting overseas, but we have a sufficiency of anecdotes. Archaeologists and antiquities agents have been gunned down or threatened in the bush by well-armed pothunters, often allied with drug dealers. Mayan stelae have been cut apart with chain saws preparatory to their transportation out of the country. At Rio Azul in Guatemala between 1979 and 1981, an estimated 80 pothunters were employed in the well organized mining of an important Mayan site, digging some 150 trenches to destroy 32 tombs, and constructing an airfield to fly out the plunder (Adams 1986:447). In El Salvador, the rich postclassic Cara Sucia site has been pocked with some 5,000 potholes, and every known site in the area has been plundered to some extent, producing an estimated 30,000 artifacts that have gone into the international marketplace (Herscher 1989:68). Similar anecdotes can be recounted from virtually every country. The magnitude of the potting problem is huge. Its dimensions, however, go beyond the merely quantitative.
Economic Dimensions
There are two kinds of economic dimensions to the problem. First, although the bulk of potted artifacts that are trafficked in the marketplace go for a few dollars or their equivalent, the international market in potted artifacts is a big business. An article in a recent National Law Journal estimates that over a billion dollars goes into the purchase of smuggled art and artifacts each year (Stille 1988:2). One group of investors is reported to have readily invested $80,000 on speculation for artifacts looted from Sipan in Peru (Decker 1989:144). Mimbres bowls from New Mexico go for anywhere from $2,000 to over $6,000 according to the GAO, while Mogollon pots have brought up to $20,000 and a Hohokam basket is reported to have been sold for $180,000 (GAO (1987:28-9). The Euphonios krater, subject of intense controversy between the government of Italy and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, is valued at a million dollars (Nagin 1986:22). Second, there is a clear link between potting and the general economy of the area where potting takes place. In some areas potting is literally vital to the livelihood of local citizens. On St. Lawrence Island in Alaska, for example, residents are potting the middens of their ancestors for ivory, whalebone, and other artifacts that are shipped out for sale in the art market. They have little other source of livelihood; their subsistence economy is no longer sufficient to sustain them, and they have few ways to participate in the modern cash economy except those offered by dealers in ivory and artifacts. So they have turned to what their ancestors have left them, to the obvious detriment of their heritage and the archaeological record. Alaska is by no means unique; the same economic pressures that drive the St. Lawrence Islanders to dig up their ancestors' artifacts motivate the pothunters of many third world nations. In the southwest, too, increases in pothunting have been attributed in part to rising local unemployment (BLM 1985:433-13).
The Legal Dimension
Another important dimension is that of criminal justice -- how readily one can catch and prosecute pothunters. I have touched on this dimension above; it is obvious from Figure 1 that on the whole, pothunters are not being caught and prosecuted in great numbers. There are good reasons for this. The GAO (1987:57;Table 4.1) reports that in the four corners area of the Southwest there are all of 271 people on the federal payroll charged with enforcement of ARPA. Some 606 people have responsibilities that include surveillance of archaeological sites that might be subject to potting on the federal lands (GAO 1987:49; Table 3.3). There are about 100 million acres of federal land in the four corners area (GAO 1987:49; Table 3.3), so each surveillance person is responsible for looking out for about 167,000 acres, and each enforcement person is responsible for enforcing ARPA on about 370,000 acres. An imposing task, to say the least, particularly since ARPA surveillance and enforcement are by no means the only things these people are supposed to be doing. Apprehending a pothunter is only the beginning of the battle, of course; one then has to prosecute -- a long and tedious process with no sure guarantee of success. The seriousness of this aspect of the problem is illustrated by the fact that a jury handed down a felony ARPA conviction for the first time in 1987, eight years after ARPA's passage. To get himself convicted, the pothunter in this case had to dig up a mummified baby girl and try to sell her for $35,000 (Trahant 1987). It must also be remembered that one can prosecute only if there is a law under which to prosecute. ARPA applies only to federal and Indian lands; on most private lands, pothunting is perfectly legal unless done in violation of a state or local law or ordinance. Many other nations regard all antiquities as the property of the state; in theory, pothunting is universally prohibited in such countries. Assuming the will to enforce protective laws, however, the governments of these nations are faced with the same problems that confront the U.S. government on federal lands -- nowhere near enough enforcement personnel to cover the ground. And the will to enforce is not always very strong, particularly where pothunting is conducted by the same well-financed, well-armed, and often well-connected people who run the local illicit drug business, or where pothunting is an important component of the local economy. Ostensibly, international traffic in antiquities is subject to control under the UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export, and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property (cf. Herscher 1989:69; USIA 1988). Implementing the Convention, however, is even more cumbersome than pronouncing its name; suffice it to say that the United States imposed import restrictions on a class of antiquities under the terms of the convention for the first time in 1987, four years after it enacted legislation to implement it (USIA 1988). In 1988 the Los Angeles Times reported customs seizure of four groups of artifacts, and characterized this as a "clamp-down" (Spano 1988).
The Psychological Dimension
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there is the psychological dimension of the problem. On the whole, as the GAO succinctly comments, "much of the public...condones the looting of archaeological sites..., both as a means of supplementing personal income and as a personal hobby" (GAO 1987:61) Simply put, to most people pothunting is OK. Amassing and maintaining collections of beautiful and exotic artifacts, to most people, is more than OK; it's something that cultured, educated, upper class people do and gain status and prestige by doing. Recognition of this fact, and of the infeasibility of stopping pothunting through law enforcement, has led many archaeologists to emphasize education as the best means of addressing the problem. Organizations like the Society for American Archaeology (see Reinburg and Judge this volume), federal agencies (see McManamon this volume) like the National Park Service and the Forest Service, and others are hard at work on educational campaigns, and the reported decrease in "recreational" pothunting on federal lands in the southwest may suggest that these campaigns are having salutary effects. Looking hopefully into the future, Ellen Herscher in a recent issue of Archaeology Magazine suggested that the day will come when "private collecting itself may no longer be a socially acceptable endeavor, with the image of collectors as greedy fat cats replacing the nineteenth-century ideal of collectors as cultured gentlemen" (Herscher 1989:69).
Education and Site Protection
Education is attractive as an "answer" to the pothunter problem because it seems altogether positive and non-threatening -- a motherhood and apple pie kind of solution. The fact that a solution is attractive, though, does not necessarily mean that it is going to work; it may mean only that it is an easy one to think about, because it presents us -- or seems to present us -- with no hard choices. I suggest, however, that education does present us with some hard choices, choices so difficult that they make it improbable that education will have more than a marginal impact on the overall pothunting problem. Without intending to offend any individual or institution, I will conclude this article by discussing an aspect of the pothunter problem that I believe requires us to question our current strategies for addressing it and contemplate new ones. One pleasant spring day recently, I strolled through a well-appointed complex of underground rooms in Washington DC. There I admired a handsome clay drinking vessel used in Persia, produced sometime between the third and seventh centuries A.D., probably in what is now Iran, and another of silver. I viewed pottery vessels from the Warring States period of Chinese history, between the third and fifth centuries B.C., and scores of other ancient artifacts. The rooms are those of the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, a museum of Asian art at the Smithsonian Institution. There is little or no question that the artifacts they contain were exhumed from archaeological sites through non-scientific excavation -- in other words, they are the fruits of pothunting. They were acquired, and made available to the Smithsonian, by an imminent collector of ancient near eastern and oriental art, the late Dr. Arthur M. Sackler. Dr. Sackler seems to have been an altogether admirable individual. An imminent psychiatrist and medical researcher, he was the author of some 140 scholarly papers (Spens 1987:10) more than most of us can claim. Linus Pauling has described him as a pioneer in studies of the molecular basis of schizophrenia (Pauling 1987:21). He was a vigorous campaigner for professional responsibility in his discipline, and against smoking, alcoholism, and drug abuse (Lasagna 1987:20). He established the Foundation for Nutritional Advancement and backed establishment of the Sackler School of Graduate Biomedical Sciences at Tufts University. Beginning his career as a collector after putting his two brothers through medical school and helping his parents through the Depression, he was in time responsible for endowing not only the museum that bears his name at the Smithsonian but a museum at Harvard, a wing of the Metropolitan Museum in New York, and a museum of Art and Archaeology at Beijing University. Also in China he founded the Sackler Foundation for China, which supports projects in health, art, and archaeology (Spens 1987; Wen Zhong 1987). When Sackler died, the prestigious art journal Studio International published a commemorative issue in his honor. In it Frank Press, President of the National Academy of Sciences, characterized Sackler's death as "an incalculable loss" (Press 1987:34). Jean Mayer, President of Tufts University, described him as coming "close to the definition of a universal mind (Mayer 1987:31). Joshua Lederberg, President of Rockefeller University, described him as "decades ahead of his time" (Lederberg 1987:34). Recalling Ellen Herscher's prognostication, do we really think that education is going to turn people like Dr. Sackler, in the public eye, from the "cultured gentleman" that he obviously was into a "greedy fat cat?" More to the point, should it? If it should, we certainly have not made much of a start toward promoting such a change in perception. The Sackler Gallery was opened in 1987, with considerable and quite deserved fanfare and praise, by the Secretary of the Smithsonian, the imminent archaeologist Robert McCormick Adams; I presume Dr. Adams is proud of the Gallery, and he should be -- it is a wonderful addition to the Smithsonian's treasures. But you could search a long time, and in vain, to find anything in the Gallery to indicate that people shouldn't emulate Dr. Sackler's example -- there is no Archaeologist General's warning that collecting may be harmful to the health of the world's archaeological heritage. It is of course hard to imagine inscribing such a warning on the walls of the Gallery, along with the names of those whose donations made the place possible; such a warning would seem churlish at best. But if we are not ready to inscribe such warnings on the walls of the world's art galleries, then our educational message is discordant. We are saying that it is OK, in fact admirable, for rich people to collect pothunted artifacts and donate them to museums, but it is not OK for destitute Costa Ricans or St. Lawrence Islanders to pothunt them, or for middle-class artifact dealers in Ohio to trade in them.
The "Established Collections" Defense
I know the classic response. Dr. Sackler bought and sold artifacts from "established collections;" presumably the drinking vessels and pots I admired in the gallery were dug up years, even centuries ago, and have been moving around from collection to collection ever since. Therefore, they are thought to be in a different category from the artifacts that are being dug up today. Presumably it is this theory that allowed Archaeology Magazine, in the same issue that included Ellen Herscher's article (January/February 1989), to run an advertisement on page 106 for a sale of "folk, ethnic, and tribal arts" that included pre-columbian artifacts discretely identified as "pre-1940." The "established collections" defense reminds me of the response I got from a teen-ager recently when I suggested that as an animal lover, she ought not to show the enthusiasm she does for fur coats. She saw no conflict in her values, because of course, the animals from which the furs came were already dead. Even if all museums were honest and consistent in their application of the "established collections" policy -- and of course one can hardly assume that they are (cf. Nagin 1986) -- it seems to me as inevitable as the law of supply and demand that as the established collections move into the museums, those wanting to establish new ones will have to look elsewhere. That they do look elsewhere is manifest in the worldwide increase in pothunting. I am not necessarily saying that the "established collections" policy causes pothunting, but I do think that it does little or nothing to discourage it.
What Can Be Done?
Senator Pete Domenici, in his opening statement at a U.S. Senate hearing on pothunting in September 1988, expressed the belief that "...there is no cure for the problem (see Domenici this volume for a discussion of his efforts to protect archaeological sites). I do not want to be that pessimistic; I think there are cures, or at least effective treatments. I think we need to recognize, first, that there are at least two kinds of pothunters abroad in the world. One of these is the individual who digs and collects for his or her own enjoyment, deriving from the practice many of the same pleasures that archaeologists derive -- the joy of discovery, the challenge of figuring out what happened in the past, the aesthetic pleasure of experiencing a beautiful object long lost to sight, the plain enjoyment of hard work in the outdoors. The other is the person who is in the work for the money, either because he or she has little or no choice (like the St. Lawrence Islanders) or because it is easier or more fun or more remunerative than other available lines of work. The two kinds of pothunters need to be dealt with in distinct ways. The first kind is a good target for education, but our educational campaigns should be "soft sells," designed to win people over to the cause of archaeology, not excoriate them about the evils of pothunting. More importantly, such campaigns must be accompanied by the development of responsible ways for people to exercise their archaeological interests, through avocational organizations, participation in professional projects, and so on. Every federal agency that sponsors archaeological work in order to meet its responsibilities under the environmental and historic preservation laws should establish systems to ensure maximum public participation in such work. Federal land management agencies, whose relations with local communities are intimate and ongoing, should provide ongoing support to avocational archaeological organizations and other outlets for popular enthusiasm about archaeology. There is nothing especially radical about the suggestions offered above; indeed, avocational programs are blossoming in many parts of the country (see Davis this volume), as are public participatory programs sponsored by museums, research centers, and non-profit organizations. More and more federal and state agencies are beginning to support such programs, albeit often only quietly and informally, uncertain about how such support relates to agency missions and about how to undertake them within the context of their legal responsibilities and procurement practices. These uncertainties can be addressed; the problem of the "casual" pothunter can be handled. Treating the problem of the commercial pothunter, on the other hand, requires more drastic measures. With apologies to Michail Gorbachev, it requires perestroika -- radical restructuring of our approaches to the matter. In a nutshell, neither police action nor education is going to affect the commercial pothunter much. There will never be enough police or attorneys to address the problem, and in any event, much commercial pothunting is perfectly legal, as long as it is carried out on non-federal, non-Indian lands in the United States, or in nations without comprehensive anti-looting statutes. Education is not going to work because major collectors classify themselves, and are widely perceived to be, in a class with Dr. Sackler; the sales houses like Sotheby's that cater to them are similarly perceived, and the diggers who supply the sales houses don't give a damn. To get at the commercial pothunter, it is necessary to co-opt the market. To co-opt the market, we have to participate in it, and to do this, we must get over the idea that it is wrong for a private individual to own and hold artifacts.
Conclusion
I propose that the archaeological community and its allies in the executive and legislative branches of the U.S. Government initiate a dialogue with the communities of art and artifact collectors and suppliers, aimed at reaching agreement on what kinds of artifacts should and should not be held by private parties. Generally speaking, I propose that we should seek agreement that it is appropriate for private parties to own artifacts that have been excavated or otherwise acquired using appropriate archaeological methods, from public or private lands, in the U.S. and elsewhere, particularly if the sites from which such artifacts are recovered are threatened with destruction. Conversely, we should regard it as inappropriate for private parties to own artifacts that have been recovered in any other way, with provision for "grandfathering" old collections. We should then modify statutes like ARPA and the U.S. Tax Code to accommodate this agreement, and set about supplying the legitimate artifact market with artifacts from existing and newly acquired collections. Would this work? Probably not entirely, but I think it could go a long way toward solving the problem. If dealers in antiquities, when deciding whether to acquire an artifact, asked "where is the documentation showing that this piece is the product of a proper archaeological project," rather than "now, this wasn't acquired from federal land or in contravention of the UNESCO convention, was it," I believe that the tilt of the field on which the pothunter/archaeologist game is played would be altered considerably. Can we do it? We can't know if we don't try. Is it too radical for the archaeological community to accept? I don't know; are we so set in our ways, so rigid in our ideological orthodoxy that we are less able to accept perestroika than are the communist parties of Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union? I certainly hope not.
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