Fakes, Technology Are Weapons in Pottery War

Dispatches from the war on archeological plunder:

Attempts to save an ancient Indian burial ground in a weed-choked flood-control channel are marred by death threats, emotional vigils and macabre vandalism before an apparent $80,000 resolution is reached. Then opponents of the plan file suit.

- In the Southwest, federal agents hide heat sensors and video cameras in archeological ruins to deter vandals, while the Blackfeet tribe in Montana searches by canoe for artifact looters.

- Indian artisans in Utah hope to flood the market with quality fakes in hopes of hurting the black market in authentic Anasazi pottery.

Strapped for money and manpower, often battling public indifference, authorities are waging what they fear is a last-ditch effort to protect the nation’s archeological resources.

Success, officials agree, hinges on several factors:

- Cooperation among the government agencies responsible for enforcing the 1979 Archeological Resources Protection Act.

- Infiltration of the black market and a crackdown on dealers who commission, buy and sell artifacts taken from public land.

- Tougher sentences for convicted violators.

- A national registry or other reliable system for tracking the origins of artifacts, and

- Increased public awareness.

In the seven years since the archeology-protection act went into effect, experts estimate that thousands of archeological sites have been damaged or destroyed by pothunters, leaving possibly as few as 20% of the country’s ruins pristine.

But catching and punishing the culprits has proved extremely difficult.

The burden of proving that artifacts were plundered from public land lies with the government. Authorities must either catch a vandal in the act or painstakingly piece together evidence such as soil samples, pottery fragments, footprints and tire tracks.

David Madsen, Utah’s state archeologist, faults the law, saying it “doesn’t deal directly with the black market. You can get the local digger but not the middleman. It’s like trying to stop jaguar fur trade in the Amazon by arresting all local Indians.”

Even where a site has a history of being vandalized, protection is a problem.

On the California coast about an hour’s drive north of Los Angeles, archeologists are camping in a flood-control channel to stand 24-hour guard over a Chumash burial ground threatened by looters and flooding.

The archeologists have an $80,000 county contract to excavate the site and rebury the human remains and artifacts in a safe place.

But some local Indian groups want the sacred site undisturbed. Archeologists and Indian leaders favoring reburial have received threats. And while the county debated what to do, vandals ransacked the site again.

“They literally ripped bones out of the ground,” said Jessie Roybal, executive director of the Candelaria American Indian Council, the Indian group designated as the legal representatives of the Chumash.

“A little baby skull was smashed,” she said. “It’s just sick.”

One of the reburial’s opponents, the Southern Council of the Coastal Band of the Chumash Nation, is suing the county, state and federal agencies, as well as the Candelaria American Indian Council and another local Indian group. Its suit contends, among other things, that the arrangement violates freedom of religion. A decision on that suit is expected soon.

Vandalism is not confined to California. And Tony Klesert, tribal archeologist for the Navajo Nation headquartered in Window Rock, Ariz., said lack of respect and understanding of Indian spirituality hinders prosecution of vandals.

“Basically we have to have these guys nailed nine different ways before a judge or jury will convict,” he said.

The Navajos are considering equipping residents near remote archeological sites with radios and cameras to report and document vandalism on the 16-million-acre reservation.

The federal General Accounting Office is studying coordination among the federal agencies on archeology-protection cases. And the Interior Department is focusing on public education through a new “Take Pride in America” campaign. Hot lines have been set up to report vandalism, with informants eligible for rewards of up to $500.

Federal authorities are reluctant to discuss their high-tech methods but confirm they include sophisticated equipment ranging from metallic sensors that can detect shovels to time-lapse photography.

Microphones are also used, raising “a big concern over the privacy of people using public lands,” said Christine Rogers, a Portland, Ore., attorney specializing in forensic archeology.

Signs at entrances to some public lands warn visitors that conversations may be overheard by electronic devices, she said.

Rogers knew of no cases won through high-tech evidence. She has counted 64 prosecutions nationwide under the archeology-protection act, with two jury convictions on misdemeanor counts and no felony convictions.

Her research shows the toughest sentence for a second offense was 18 months in jail and a $1,000 fine, well below the maximum of five years in jail and a $100,000 fine provided under the law.

“I think sentences are way too light,” said Roger Anyon, archeologist for the Zuni tribe. “You fine someone $10,000 and it’s a joke, just the cost of doing business. They go out and find a few more pots to pay it off.”