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EXAMINING INDIGENOUS RIGHTS TO C U LT U R E I N N O RT H A M E R I C A TOM GREAVES  ABSTRACT Indian tribal groups in the United States and Canada are vigorously asserting cultural ownership of the content of cultures with which they identify, ownership rights that allow them to prevent others from appropriating that content, or to use it only with conditions. Additionally, they assert the right to their own cultural futures, to practice an evolving cultural form with sufficient natural and fiscal resources to be viable, and the right to be treated respectfully by the dominant society. These rights claims take various forms, and have encountered varying levels of success. Five types of rights assertions are reviewed here. Key Words  American Indians  cultural rights  enclave societies  intellectual property  Native Americans  North America

Indians and Enclaves Within the United States, reservation-based tribal groups occupy enclaves within the world’s most aggressively commercialized and economically powerful nation. They are surrounded by an intrusive, often predatory society that, to an overwhelming degree, has the upper hand in the information economy. For a tribe on a reservation, maintaining a separate culture is increasingly difficult. Every cultural system needs boundaries or edges where social and cultural flows are reduced, in volume and kind, compared to flows on either side of the boundary. As reservations lose their historic isolation, those boundaries are increasingly porous, elevating still further the threat to the social, political and cultural integrity of the enclaved community.1 Among North American tribal groups the indigenous defense of their cultural distinctiveness and boundaries goes back centuries. Over the past two decades their alarm and activism about the erosion of their cultures have reached a high level. On most reservations tribal defense of the differences that make their group a distinct people is a very high priority. Cultural Dynamics

14(2): 121–142. [0921–3740 (200207) 14:2; 121–142; 024630] Copyright © 2002 SAGE Publications (London, Thousand Oaks, CA and New Delhi)

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But, how can a small, enclaved reservation community with a distinctive cultural knowledge system and lifeways defend itself? Before going further it is important to remember that, while this article focuses on reservations, not all Indians live on reservations. Indeed, at least half of all American Indians who are members of federally recognized tribes do not live on their home reservations.2 The latter tend to live in cities where we may suppose that they face acculturative pressures even more intense than do reservation-based groups.3 Nonetheless, reservations remain important to large numbers of off-reservation Indians, serving as a locus of identity and homeland. Visiting the reservation during times of major ceremonials is commonplace. The reservation is also a place to fall back on in times of hardship.4 Thus, reservation-based societies are an appropriate focus for this analysis, affecting not only those who live on them, but also many who do not. Many anthropologists, operating especially within the intellectual property framework, describe the distinctive tribal traditions that tribal groups seek to preserve as ‘cultural information’—all the information that makes up the whole of a specific culture. There are many problems with such an approach but, more to the point, America’s tribal peoples define their cultural content as decidedly more than a collection of information. What these groups seek to defend and preserve is much richer: no less than the essence and reality of themselves as a people, with a history grounded in belief, sited in particular landscapes, with emblematic customs, language, and the religious and social beliefs that imbue the entirety with coherence, authenticity, and importance.

Claiming Ownership of Culture Tribal groups vigorously assert an ownership right to all of the distinctive features of their cultural lifeway, as well as a right to long-term viability as a group living that lifeway. Particularly since the mid-1980s documents and declarations of indigenous rights have multiplied, as evident in the UN’s Draft Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. In these documents indigenous rights are presented as inherent, inalienable, and vested in tribal groups. What are the cultural lifeways to which tribes claim a right? In the case of American Indians it starts with the culture of one’s ancestors, but goes well beyond that. It includes certain added cultural elements acquired since contact with colonial intruders (such as blue jeans and pick-up trucks), and it includes the right to develop and modify the future lifeways of the group in whatever way the group sees fit.5 Hence the right to culture is not about an unchanging aboriginal legacy; it is about the right of a cultural people to their past, present, and future.

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One can unpack American Indians’ asserted right to culture into a number of components. The following is not an exhaustive list, but here are five principal component rights: • a right to perpetuate their traditional culture, to add to and modify it and, where necessary, to resurrect or reinvent it; • a right to essential natural resources (often guaranteed implicitly or explicitly by standing treaties) sufficient to perpetuate the group and its culture indefinitely; • a right to dignity; that is, respect from the dominant society in its perceptions about them and its dealings with them; • a right to deny to outsiders the use of any element specific to their culture or to place conditions on how it may be used; • a right to a cultural future of their own making, without losing their separate status, identity, and historic rights. In the pages to follow, I want to illustrate and amplify these five dimensions of an asserted right to culture, as reflected in important current initiatives among the nearly 1200 recognized American Indian groups in the USA and Canada.6

The Right to Perpetuate Culture North American Indians vigorously assert their right to maintain the cultures of their ancestors. In this their views coincide with the worldwide indigenous movement which has insisted on Article 4 of the Draft Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, now being pressed within the United Nations: Indigenous peoples have the right to maintain and strengthen their distinct political, economic, social and cultural characteristics, as well as their legal systems, while retaining their rights to participate fully, if they so choose, in the political, economic, social and cultural life of the State.7

In North America we are seeing vigorous efforts to preserve oral history, sacred sites, and languages.8 These responsibilities may be vested in departments of cultural resource management, education, or other units of tribal government. Their goal is not just preservation. They see the continual appropriation by an arrogant world of features that make them culturally distinct as an assault. As Oren Lyons, Onondaga Chief, Faith Keeper, and a key voice of indigenous people put it, ‘The appropriation of our intellectual property is continuous and devastating’ (Lyons, 1994: 34). A good example of these defensive tribal efforts is the Hopi Cultural Preservation Office (HCPO), an agency of the Hopi tribal government. The HCPO maintains an elaborate and informative website that lays out its

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policies, philosophy, staff structure, and rules for those who would seek information about Hopi culture. The damage the Hopi Tribe perceives, and the ownership it asserts over Hopi intellectual property, is illustrated in an official policy statement: Through the decades the intellectual property rights of Hopi have been violated for the benefit of many other, non-Hopi people that has proven to be detrimental. Expropriation comes in many forms. For example, numerous stories told to strangers have been published in books without the storytellers’ permission. After non-Hopis saw ceremonial dances, tape recorded copies of music were sold to outside sources. Clothing items of ceremonial dancers have been photographed without the dancers’ permission and sold. Choreography from ceremonial dances has been copied and performed in non-sacred settings. Even the pictures of the ceremonies have been included in books without written permission. Designs from skilled Hopi potters have been duplicated by non-Hopis. Katsinas dolls have also been duplicated from Hopi dancers seen at Hopi. Although the Hopi believe the ceremonies are intended for the benefit of all people, they also believe benefits only result when ceremonies are properly performed and protected. All of these actions are breaches of Hopi intellectual property rights, used by nonHopi for personal and commercial benefit without Hopi permission.9

Other tribes have similar operations. Funding and level of activity vary, but one would be hard pressed to find a tribe anywhere in the USA or Canada that does not actively concern itself with perpetuating its cultural ways and controlling unauthorized appropriation of the cultural legacy that sets it apart.10 The recovery and strengthening of cultural legacies target not only the oral traditions, ceremonies, and other non-material culture, but also extend to regaining possession of cultural artifacts that now belong to others. These objects are the material anchors of cultural identities and their recovery and return to reservations are probably associated with a felt need to reinforce the cultural meanings the objects embody. Although repatriation of cultural and historical items covers a diverse array, a central concern is the repatriation of human burials and archaeological remains through the 1990 Native American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA).11 Recouping cultural artifacts is a major agenda of many tribes. John Mohawk of the Seneca explains: It’s not about graves and bones and studying bones. It’s about respect for the living. It’s about respect for other people . . . When you argue that the bones that our people left there are useful, more useful for scientific purposes than they are necessary for reburial to maintain the heart and essence of the culture, the continuity of the generations, you’re making an ethnocentric argument. (Quoted in Jemison, 1997: 61)

Under NAGPRA federally supported museums and archaeological repositories are required to inventory their collections, to identify human burial remains and artifacts found in conjunction with human burials (‘funerary objects’), and artifacts not found with burials but understood to be ‘sacred objects’ or items of historic importance (‘cultural patrimony’), traceable to

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American Indians, historically or prehistorically.12 Tribes are then to be notified of all items associated with their specific group. When tribes elect to take back the objects, the museums and repositories are to return them expeditiously. Tribes are also to be given inventory information on objects without specific tribal provenience. Where tribes can make a case that they are the proper recipients, those items, too, are to be returned to them (Sec. 6 and 7). A central feature of NAGPRA is that it is based on the ‘ownership’ of these remains by Native Americans (Sec. 3a). Repatriation has not worked smoothly. The museums had five years to complete the inventories of their collections, but federal funds to support the frequently massive inventory process were slow and inadequate. In many instances the inventory process has taken much longer. Further delay has been occasioned by resistance from the scientific community (see Pritzker, 1999: 258; Riding In, 2000: 116). Some tribal offices have complained of reams of inscrutable computer printouts, no money to cover costs of curation or reburial, and being unready to receive large quantities of hallowed objects. Another section of NAGPRA (and of an earlier 1979 federal law, the Archaeological Resources Protection Act) regulates American Indian skeletal remains that come to light from 1990 forward on federally owned or controlled land. Archaeologists finding such remains are required to halt excavation and consult with the appropriate Indian group. This did not happen in the case of a famous skeleton now known as ‘Kennewick Man’, found in 1996 on the bank of the Columbia River in Washington State.13 Radiocarbon dating established its age at approximately 9300 years. When the Corps of Engineers reclaimed the material from the archaeologist and indicated its intention to deliver it to the appropriate Indian tribe, eight prominent archaeologists filed suit to block its return. Among the suit’s principal contentions are that a connection to living Indians cannot be demonstrated for remains that old, and that for remains of such scientific importance (as decided by archaeologists) archaeology’s needs as a science trump Indian claims, NAGPRA notwithstanding. As of this writing (January 2002) the skeleton remains under court custody. The bitter fight over the remains of Kennewick Man is deeply corrosive to the relations between American Indian tribes and anthropologists, having the effect of positioning anthropology in direct opposition to tribal rights to culture.14 In the United States NAGPRA is the central framework for much of the effort of American Indians to repatriate ancestral remains and other cultural property collected and kept by institutions of the broader society. At the same time, a number of tribes have programs of archaeological recovery on their reservation lands. This is not inconsistent. Those programs are under tribal control, which is the central point. Some tribes (e.g. the Zuni, the Hopi, the Umatilla, the Navajo and the Mashantucket Pequot) have active archaeological programs aimed at preserving the evidence of

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their past and deepening their ability to understand their own prehistories. This ensures that further construction on the reservation does not inadvertently destroy their own heritage, and also provides further information as they seek to deepen their own histories. The Mashantucket Pequot (owners of reputedly the largest casino in the hemisphere) opened the widely praised Mashantucket Pequot Museum and Research Center in 1998 to coordinate their effort to recover Pequot cultural practices and history, and to reestablish their cultural knowledge.15 It is essential to point out that one encounters no inclination to simply preserve traditional culture as it was before contact with Europeans. The pick-up truck, denim jeans, sun glasses, rodeos, horses, stock-raising, elected government, veterans organizations, and many other borrowings from surrounding culture are part of the cultural inventory. Nor are present leaders saying that their future cultures should be unchanged. They emphatically reject the supposition of dominant-society Americans that, if the old ways are abandoned, Indians lose their ‘right’ to be treated as politically and socially separate. North American Indians claim no lesser right to evolve their cultures than the dominant society cherishes for itself, and they refuse to allow this to be linked to any forfeiture of their separate status, separate identities, self-rule, and historic rights. The failure of White Americans to concede or even understand this point underlies many current conflicts between Indians and the dominant society. Ethnocentrically, our dominant society thinks if the Indians are not going to practice the customs which fit our image of what Indians do, then they are just Americans arguing for unwarranted and unfair ‘special privileges’.16 Our tribal neighbors trenchantly disagree. To summarize, American Indians’ right to culture is today vigorously asserted through repatriation, through Indian-managed prehistoric research, through their efforts to preserve their cultural knowledge, and through a determination to protect it from the diminishment that results from its unwelcome appropriation by members of the dominant society. At the same time, these groups do not intend to be cultural fossils. The traits they have more recently acquired do not make them less Indian, and they expect to continue to modify their cultures in whatever ways they choose in the future without losing their status as groups apart.

The Right to Essential Natural Resources The right to culture includes the right to the essential conditions that make a cultural lifeway viable. Historically in North America that has meant an often desperate struggle to preserve land, treaty rights, and federal recognition.17 Despite all the downsides of impoverishment, poor health, unemployment, and economic limitations, the reservation (and, in Canada, the

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reserve) has served as a geographic locus for cultural, social, and political persistence; in short, a homeland.18 The determined tribal opposition to the United States’ Termination program also reflected the reservation’s role in maintaining tribes. The acute sensitivity to attacks on sovereignty and home rule illustrate this concern, as well.19 Reservations serve as a repository and wellspring of group culture and cultural identity. As D’Arcy McNickle, Indian anthropologist, declared in 1961, ‘Everything is tied to our homeland. Our language, religion, songs, beliefs—everything. Without our homeland, we are nothing’ (quoted in Josephy, 1982: 132). Reservations, however, must not be understood as static and fixed geographic units. In almost every case, today’s reservations are, for American Indians, just small residuals of far-flung homelands forcibly relinquished through treaty and unfair purchases in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries conducted in the shadow of military force.20 In the language of The Godfather, the United States made them offers they could not refuse, and then returned to make them new, reduced offers ‘they could not refuse’ that drastically diminished the size of the original reservations. For federal administrative convenience many reservations came to house several formerly autonomous tribes, sometimes traditionally hostile to one another. Thus, reservations and land claims to former tribal areas are intrinsically linked concepts. Land, however, is not the only resource underpinning the persistence of a cultural group. For many reservations in the American West water supplies are now of major concern, particularly since reservation water supplies normally originate outside the reservation and are prone to upstream diversion and pollution. An instructive case is the protracted struggle of the Lummi Nation over water from the Nooksak River. The Lummi Nation, with a membership of about 4000, occupies a reservation of less than 20 square miles in north-western Washington State, west of the city of Bellingham. The Lummi are one of the salmon-dependent societies of the north-west coast of North America whom many associate with totem poles and the distinctive Northwest Coast art style. The precipitous decline of the salmon has deeply threatened the cultural integrity of the Lummi and other Northwest Coast groups, for whom salmon hold exceptional symbolic as well as commercial value. As annual salmon runs nose-dived due to overfishing, river pollution, and spawning ground destruction, the Lummi and other groups established their own fish hatcheries to stem the decline.21 The reservation lies at the mouth of the Nooksak River, a small river rising in the Cascade Mountains east of Bellingham. The Lummi depend on the Nooksak to support its fish hatchery and, equally important, to maintain (together with rainfall) the water table beneath the reservation, which supplies potable water to reservation users. The problem is that the Nooksak also supplies the growing city of Bellingham (current population

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about 55,000), the I-5 commercial corridor running north to the Canadian border, and a substantial up-river agricultural zone. In an average year the Nooksak is now 100 percent allocated (if not over allocated) in terms of state-allotted water rights. The Lummi know that as Bellingham and the commercial corridor grow and increase water consumption, the water available to the Lummi will necessarily diminish. The Lummi are locked in a long-term political and legal process to win an adequate, guaranteed share of the river’s water, a goal that directly confronts the growth aspirations of the city, county, and commercial entrepreneurs.22 The Lummi struggle reflects a larger principle: the right to persist culturally is defrauded if land, water, and the other essentials of group life are withdrawn.23 Other examples of the intent to protect essential resources in the Pacific Northwest are the efforts of the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe to remove two 90-year-old dams on the Elwha River of the Olympic Penninsula, and of the Nez Percé and other tribes to breach four Snake River dams.24 The motivation in both cases is to restore decimated salmon runs. It appears that the Lower Elwha Klallam will succeed in having the Elwha dams removed, but the political momentum to remove the Snake River dams died with California’s electrical energy crisis of summer 2001. The dams’ contribution to the regional electric power grid, while small, forms part of regional generating capacity that is indisputably inadequate. Aside from land claims, indigenous water rights claims probably account for the largest group of resource disputes in North America. This is not surprising given that unpolluted fresh water is the planet’s scarcest natural resource. In many parts of North America water sources are under intense pressure and Indian water rights are at issue. Currently or recently active suits and negotiations over water allotments and water quality include the Klamath (Oregon), Warm Springs (Oregon), the Hoopa (California), the Coeur d’Alene (Idaho), the Crow (Montana), the Salish and Kootenai (Montana), the Chippewa Cree (Montana), the Arapaho and Shoshone (Wyoming), the Wind River (Wyoming), the Southern Ute and Ute Mountain Ute (Colorado), the Pyramid Lake Paiute (Nevada), the Cheyenne River Sioux (South Dakota), the Standing Rock Sioux (South Dakota), the Oglala Sioux (South Dakota), the Sac and Fox (Oklahoma), the Quechan (Arizona), the San Carlos Apache (Arizona), the Hopi (Arizona), the Isleta Pueblo (New Mexico), the Pueblo of Picuris (New Mexico), the Navajo (principally Arizona), and the Miccosukee (Florida). Perhaps the largest scale contemporary water rights-related dispute (which also involves electric power and power revenues, land title and historic treaties, a conservation district, a water pipeline, and various other components) affects the Upper Missouri River Basin. A large number of tribal groups and reservations are parties to this dispute. Although water is the natural resource most commonly in dispute, other natural resources can also be contested, including rights to fresh and salt

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water fish, rights to shellfish and other shoreline resources, rights to hunted game, rights to catch whales, and rights to run trap lines, among others. Fundamentally all of these disputes, together with many of the land claims, reflect Indians’ defense of their right to have essential resources, implied or specified in treaties, that enable a cultural people to continue a lifeway and ensure a future.

The Right to Cultural Dignity As enclaved peoples, North American tribal groups cannot ignore the surrounding society. Their opportunities and perils usually stem from it, for instance, the US Congress has the power to abrogate any Indian treaty unilaterally, and individuals from the larger society frequently seek to meddle or profit within the enclaves. Further, Indian peoples have looked upon themselves as loyal Americans, who rise to its defense when the country is imperiled. Indians served with distinction in the Second World War and subsequent conflicts, veterans groups are standard components of most Indian reservation communities, and the opening of Indian rodeos and pow wows usually begins with a color guard proudly bearing the US flag. National Indian organizations strongly condemned the attack of 11 September 2001 and memorialized Indians among its victims. So, in a social sense, enclaved peoples are continuously part of a larger social system both pragmatically and emotionally, and attach great importance to their membership within it. Within that social system they demand respect and a place at the table. These demands take at least two forms. First, Indian tribes insist on a ‘government to government’ political relationship with federal authorities, as provided in the US Constitution, which makes Indian affairs a federal domain. Their federal status derives mainly from Congress’s power to regulate commerce with the Indian tribes, and the federal government’s exclusive treaty-making power. Historically, tribal groups themselves have strongly resisted dealing with state-level authorities. Dealing with state government may well be more perilous, given that states often have more immediate vested interests to pursue (e.g. land, taxes, zoning, and the attitudes of non-Indian constituencies) at the expense of tribes within their boundaries. Federal authorities, who may be less beholden to the interests of a specific state, can offer some protection from state-driven demands. Sadly, federal protection is never certain. Among many examples is the building of Kinzua Dam in north-west Pennsylvania in the 1960s, abrogating one of America’s oldest treaties, with the Allegany Seneca. The federal authorities joined Pennsylvania and New York State interests to force the Seneca from the most valued part of their Allegany Reservation.25 Much more recently the Lummi faced multiple efforts by former three-term US

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Senator, Slade Gorton, member of the Senate’s Appropriations and Indian Affairs committees, to penalize them both financially and legally. Gorton backed a vocal coalition of non-Indians living on Lummi reservation land in their demand to be exempt from all tribal regulation (cf. Russo, 2002: 103–4, 113). Thus, federal jurisdiction, though preferable to state jurisdiction, is never entirely secure. Indian resistance to dealing with states is, however, not just a matter of relative security; more fundamentally it is symbolic. Their treaties, military defeats, and eventual reservations in almost every case stem from federal, not state, authority. Treaties, however disadvantageous, were written as one sovereign to another, with tribes dealing directly with the United States on a ‘government to government’ basis. Dealing with state government invites a weakening of the sense of nationhood that these tribal groups embrace. The strong aversion to dealing with state authorities was sorely tested in the political effort to secure Congressional approval of the 1988 Indian Gaming Regulatory Act (IGRA), which established a regulatory framework for Indian-run casinos. IGRA requires that Indian tribes negotiate with the state governor to establish a ‘compact’ that both the tribe and the state can live with.26 Compacts are negotiated agreements spelling out such things as a casino’s hours of operation, what games can be played, table stake limits, auditing, anti-fraud monitoring, payment for expanded access roads and traffic control, background checks of employees, and direct payments to the state from casino revenues. The attraction of great potential wealth has been a compelling lure for tribes, but being required to negotiate with state governments, and to consent to a state’s involvement with a tribally owned, on-reservation business, poses a painful choice.27 Today, 12 years after passage of IGRA, most tribes with commercially viable locations have established casinos. As of this writing there are 325 tribal gaming operations in 28 states. New York State appears ready to approve five or six Indian casinos in a search for revenues to offset expenses and income declines brought on by the World Trade Center attacks in New York City (Pérez-Peña, 2001). Typically, the decision to negotiate a compact has been politically charged on both sides, but for Indians a major issue is that their sovereignty will be compromised. They must negotiate with a state government, agree to state monitoring of an on-reservation business, and allow auditing of their business records— making them subject to many state regulations and encouraging tribal dependence on the financial returns from the relationship. The Hopi, the Navajo, and some Mohawk groups, among others, have had long, rancorous internal debates that have ended with a decision to forego casinos and the associated perils to sovereignty. Insistence on dignity takes a second form: concern with images and caricatures of Indians within the dominant society. Sports mascots, for example, have been a sore point for many years. Indians argue that these depictions

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often caricature them as blood-thirsty and savage, and always as unidimensional images rather than neighbors. Even if the school’s depictions are subdued, fans seeking media attention go to extremes with neon ‘war paint’ and ‘tomahawk chops’. Schools protest that the team logos ‘honor’ Indians, but the retort is that Indians do not feel ‘honored’. Tim Giago, Oglala Lakota (Sioux), and publisher of the national newspaper, Indian Country Today, tells the following story: During a radio talk show I was on, at the time of the Atlanta Braves brouhaha, a lady named Diane called to say she had attended a high school with a team nicknamed ‘Indians.’ She said she was proud to paint her face, stick feathers in her hair and make Hollywood war whoops as part of her cheerleading duties. ‘I felt we were honoring the Indian people,’ she said. Suppose your team was called the ‘African-Americans,’ I asked her. Would you paint your face black, wear an Afro wig and prance around the football field trying to imitate your perceptions of black people? She responded, ‘Of course not! That would be insulting to Blacks.’My point is made, I responded. (Giago, 1992)

Indian objections have largely eliminated Indian-related names and logos from college teams, although a few teams remain (e.g. the Florida Seminoles, the University of Illinois Illini, and the North Dakota Fighting Sioux). Several hundred middle schools and high schools have dropped Indian team names and logos, but the accompanying public controversy makes each decision a painful one. Local school boards bridle at being pressured, alumni threaten, and local politicians get into the act. The process often turns into righteous indignation that any minority should tell ‘us’ what to do, especially in sports. By one estimate, some 2000 US schools continue to have Indian-related names and logos.28 Despite long campaigns no change of team name has been secured with the privately owned professional teams, notably the Atlanta Braves, the Cleveland Indians and, the most irritating of all, the Washington Redskins. Giago writes, ‘If white and black America is so inconsiderate of its indigenous people that it can name a football team the Redskins and see nothing wrong in this, where has our education system gone wrong?’ Thus, with respect to sports mascots, when big money is involved (in 1999 the Redskins were purchased for a reported 800 million dollars), Indian objections have not succeeded. Efforts to eliminate the most irritating of all mascots, the Washington Redskins, have had success on one front. The Redskins own trademarks on various forms of their name and logo. In April 1999, after a seven-year process, the US Patent and Trademark Office’s judicial arm withdrew federal trademark protection for the seven trademarks on grounds that the plaintiffs had shown that the trademarks were ‘disparaging’ (Masters, 1999). The ruling, which remains in abeyance on appeal, may have little practical effect, since the team’s trademarks are protected in state law as well. Further, the decision does not prevent the team from using the name and logos, though the Redskins will have more difficulty preventing others from also doing so. While the trademark decision is a striking victory against one

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of the most widely known sports mascots, its limited effect demonstrates the tenacity of Indian monikers in sports. Non-sports use of Indian motifs is also an irritant. For example, there has been a long campaign to protest movies featuring Indian caricatures (e.g. Pocahontas), and to halt the sale of The Original Crazy Horse Malt Liquor. The latter struggle arose when a Brooklyn-based specialty beverage company launched a malt liquor in 1992 bearing the name Crazy Horse, a heroic and revered 19th-century Teton Oglala leader whose warriors contributed to the 1876 defeat of Custer at Little Big Horn. Crazy Horse is said to have counseled against alcohol consumption as the ruination of Indian people. Crazy Horse’s kinsmen today reside on the Rosebud, Cheyenne River, and Pine Ridge reservations in South Dakota. They are offended that a brewing company has appropriated his name to sell an alcoholic drink. The battle to force Crazy Horse Malt Liquor off the market has included various court actions, federal and state laws, and a consumer boycott, but little lasting progress had been made until the spring of 2001. In 1996, one of the two national brewer-distributors of the product, G. Heileman Company, had gone bankrupt. It was then acquired by Stroh Brewing Company, which eventually discontinued Heileman’s brewing operations. No longer making the Crazy Horse product, in January 2001 Stroh elected to settle. The plaintiffs announced that the settlement agreement provides for a public apology and acknowledgment of the [Crazy Horse] Estate’s right to protect the name of Crazy Horse, and for delivery of culturally appropriate damages—seven race horses and thirty-two Pendleton blankets, thirty-two twists of tobacco and thirty-two braids of sweet grass, in compensation for this insult and defamation to the spirit of Crazy Horse.29

In April 2001, the company chairman, John W. Stroh III, personally delivered the apology on the Rosebud reservation. The campaign continues against the other brewer-distributor and the parent company. One additional development is relevant here. The National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI) has broken ground on the last prime location remaining on the Mall in Washington, DC. The NMAI has had a separate installation in lower Manhattan in New York City since 1994, which already shows what to expect in the main museum once completed. The NMAI mandate, captured in its self-description, is unlike any other Smithsonian museum: . . . the museum works in collaboration with the Native peoples of the Western Hemisphere to protect and foster their cultures by reaffirming traditions and beliefs, encouraging contemporary artistic expression, and empowering the Indian voice.30

Thus, it will not be dominant society scholars and scientists who will curate the museum’s displays. Rather, American Indians will present their story within their own framework and interpretations. Headed by W. Richard West, a Southern Cheyenne, the NMAI will present to the larger, dominant

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society the historic and cultural basis for the dignity American tribes regard as their due. American Indian enclaves are separated from, but not isolated from, the surrounding dominant society. Within this larger social arena they seek and demand to be accorded dignity and respect. That message will be furthered as they tell the dominant society about themselves, by themselves, unmediated by non-Indians and non-Indian institutions. American Indians are also actively protesting racist treatment by loan officers, realty agents, police, and others. The same problem seems to be reflected in the scandalous handling of the Individual Indian Monies Trust, which takes in money collected by the Bureau of Indian Affairs in the course of federal lease programs of individually owned Indian reservation lands. Over many decades record-keeping has been so shoddy that millions of dollars owed to American Indians in income were never paid and can no longer be linked to specific, individual Indian accounts. The court-directed investigation has found that relevant documents have been shredded and has held two successive Secretaries of the Interior and a Secretary of the Treasury in contempt of court. That the Trust could be so mismanaged for so long seems inescapably to reflect an entrenched attitude among some federal employees that Indian people do not matter very much.31 In conjunction with their asserted right to culture, indigenous groups are seeking dignified and respectful treatment from the society that surrounds them.

Right to Control the Use of Cultural Content American Indian tribes, along with other indigenous groups, find their cultural symbols and cultural artifacts being picked over for marketable products. Together with other causative factors this pattern of cultural appropriation underlies the indigenous intellectual property movement. Current American law places virtually all American Indian culture, including tribal names, in the public domain, available free to anyone who sees a commercial opportunity (with the exception of using the name falsely to suggest that an item offered for sale is made or endorsed by an Indian tribe).32 Principally, this is because Indian cultural items (e.g. medicinal knowledge, dances, clothing, folklore, etc.) are traditional, and as such have neither an identifiable author/creator (as required for a copyright) nor novelty (as required for a patent).33 Consequently, a sojourn at any large flea market, or the internet, will amply demonstrate both the readiness of dominant society manufacturers to appropriate Indian themes and design elements, and the evident commercial reward for doing so. A good example is the non-Indian entrepreneur who attends Indian religious or healing ceremonies and then opens a ‘New Age’ business administering sun dances, sweat lodge therapy, or healing prayers over gullible non-Indian clients. The principal categories of intellectual property

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—copyrights, patents, trademarks, and trade secrets—offer little if any protection to tribal groups seeking to prevent this or other forms of commercial appropriation of their cultural content, including traditional art designs, mythology, or use of the name of a tribe or its ancestral heroes.34 The Indian response has mostly been one of closing access to traditional culture, keeping outsiders from accessing cultural information. This, of course, also applies to the ethnographer. Anthropologists who desire to study North American indigenous groups have discovered that the traditional ways of justifying their work (for example, recording the culture for the benefit of humankind, or for science, or because to produce a book about a community is a gratifying idea) no longer persuade. The familiar pattern of doing fieldwork and then publishing articles and books about it has a consequence that previously has not been a concern to anthropology: publishing information on the customs and beliefs of a cultural group conveys that information into the public domain, after which the society can never regain control over it. If a non-Indian entrepreneur then scans the ethnographer’s publication and its illustrations for inspiration to develop, say, a new line of table napkins or sweat shirts, the originating tribe has no legal standing to stop it. The author-ethnographer or publisher might have some infringement claim if exact wording, or photographs, or designs were, without permission, reproduced in a new commercial venture, but the originating society would not. It is out of their hands. Further, the specific wording or graphic designs ownership lasts only as long as the copyright (author’s life plus 70 years). Thereafter it is as free for the taking as a Grimm’s fairy tale. It is in the public domain. For an indigenous group wanting to maintain control of its cultural and intellectual property, an ethnographer who works without informed consent is potentially dangerous. The response has been to control the ethnographer. North American tribal governments are now likely to impose many controls; the ethnographer can expect to be handed a binding contract that specifies what can be recorded or observed, and what cannot. It may well state that the data collected by the ethnographer remain the exclusive property of the tribe. All reference or use of the data in public presentations or in print, orally or in writing, will first have to be cleared, line by line, with designated tribal authorities. Then, too, the ethnographer is likely to be presented with a list of specific topics on which the tribe wants data.35 Any other project, proposed by the ethnographer, may not be approved. For the ethnographer who would study indigenous culture in North America and such other places as New Zealand, Australia, and much of South America, these conditions entail a profound redefinition of ethnographic research and the professional structure of anthropology. The old model of ethnographic research proceeded as follows: devise an interesting problem arising from the current state of knowledge and theory, craft

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a research design to address it, identify a research site conducive to implementing the design, conduct the fieldwork, and then write up the results and convey them to the profession through publications. Unless one already has a long-standing relationship with an indigenous group, in North America the opportunities to proceed in that manner are decidedly limited. Lest this suggests that ethnographers can no longer find field sites, it needs to be remembered that enclaved tribal peoples are a numerically tiny fraction of the world’s peoples. At this point few non-tribal societies have much concern about controlling who knows about their cultural ways. Their concerns lie elsewhere, such as in securing a just political role in the nation state to which they belong (Greaves, 1996: 34–6). The concerns upon which this article focuses are propelled by an enclaved status where the sharply disproportionate population sizes, wealth, geographic distribution, and control of economic, communicational, judicial, and legal systems all strongly disadvantage the small, localized, enclaved society.36 Anthropologists working in non-indigenous contexts are not likely to encounter these problems. All of the above examples illustrate a broadly held conviction that failing to exert control over appropriation of cultural content by outsiders is dangerous. As with the buried ancestors unearthed, boxed, and sent to research collection points, to allow unrestrained pilferage of cultural material dilutes and diminishes the integrity of what remains. To do so is irresponsible to a society’s past, to the community of the present, and to future generations.

The Right to a Cultural Future Since the late 1980s we have seen a worldwide surge of indigenous activism, the emergence of a new cadre of indigenous leaders, and a sizable string of striking achievements. We can highlight the great victory over HydroQuébec of the Eastern Cree at James Bay, Quebec, the Kayapo’s victory over the Xingu River dam in Brazil, the inauguration of Nunavut in the Canadian north, the emergence of strong Maori governance in New Zealand, and the limited restoration of whaling rights to the Makah in Washington State. To this list one should also add the establishment of the Assembly of First Nations as a quasi-official body in Canada, the enactment of NAGPRA in the USA, the right to establish casinos on trust land, the enunciation of the Draft Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (stalled in the UN), and of the adoption of a fairly similar declaration by the Organization of American States. Within this astonishing context North American Indian groups in the USA and Canada are in a ‘full court press’ to assure their cultural futures.

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This entails vigorous pursuit of land claims and treaty rights that will nourish their future generations. It includes the reinvestment of casino proceeds into education, health, and other development services on reservations. It includes the spread of two-year and four-year tribal colleges and universities, now 31 in number. It includes amplifying and consolidating the prerogatives of home rule, facilitated by strong pressures in the dominant society to reduce the size and cost of federal government. It includes aggressive pursuit of water and other resource rights. In short, we are transiting a period of great consequence for the future of indigenous cultures and societies in North America and elsewhere. American Indians are pointing out that their right to culture is the right to a cultural future. Their future cultures will retain an anchorage in their cultural pasts, but may move them in new, quite different directions. To do so, they argue, is a right vested in any cultural group and, in exercising that right they do not lose recognition as separate groups, retaining their historic treaty rights, membership standards, identity, and respect. I believe most non-Indians in the United States continue to see American Indians as a temporary phenomenon, just as was the case at the end of the Indian wars in the 1890s. More than a century later most Americans still assume Indians are a matter of history, not of the present. When Indians intrude on mainstream consciousness by opening a casino or winning a land claim, there is a strong suspicion that they aren’t ‘real Indians’, just sharp dealers trading unfairly on a now meaningless genealogy. For the most part, however, North America’s Indian tribes retain strong and distinctive cultural communities. With the indigenous resurgence of the past several decades, they have a plausible conviction that they will be distinctive elements within American and Canadian societies forever. Finally, we need to take note of the remarkable recent florescence of indigenous arts and indigenous artists. I refer to the large number of Native American authors writing poetry, novels, and short stories; to the graphic artists producing paintings, silk screenings, photography, and sculpture; to those experimenting with new forms in dance and drama, and to a wide range of composers and musical performers. We are living in an epoch of great cultural creativity from American Indian artists. Like the artists of other cultures and times, indigenous artists and authors are defining the cultural symbols, principles, and themes that will shape Indian cultures into the future. North American tribal groups are vigorously and skillfully asserting their right to culture, frequently with success. The onset of the global information economy generates both the urgency and the energy of their campaign. As enclaved peoples, asserting their right to culture is expressed in particular ways: a right to perpetuate their culture, a right to essential resources, a right to dignity and respect, a right to control who has access to specific elements of their cultures and how and whether it will be used by outsiders,

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and a right to chart a future without losing their status and identity as peoples apart. Their ongoing struggles cover all five of these areas, and go well beyond them. While the indigenous struggle against a numerically and technologically overwhelming civilization has been unfolding in North America for nearly 400 years, there is reason to believe that the last quarter of the 20th century marked a historic turning point. Hard as it will be, mainstream Americans and Canadians will have to adjust to a reality we have heretofore been able to overlook: our countries are not made up only of states and provinces. They also includes more than 1200 indigenous tribes, nations, bands, and communities whose ancestors were here before the rest of us, who remain inheritors of those traditions, and with whom we must interact: as a people, to a people. NOTES 1. The over-simplified imagery of systems, edges, and boundaries is acknowledged. A brief article does not allow the opportunity to seat this boundary problem in a more complex model of cultural information and its nexus in an internally differentiated collectivity of persons. 2. Firm figures on the number of off-reservation members are not available due to non-comparable and non-operationalizable definitions of who is an Indian, and the new US census practice allowing multiple self-identification. But see Fixico, 2000: 4; Snipp, 1989: 80–4; Mihesuah, 1996: 76. For the Los Angeles basin of California, Weibel-Orlando (1991: 19–43) provides a valuable discussion of known facts and numerical ambiguities. 3. Weibel-Orlando (1991) and Fixico (2000: 55–60), however, show that Indians in Los Angeles, CA, have developed institutions and networks that can be quite effective in insulating them from these pressures. 4. The reservation (‘The Rez’) has long served as an anchor of cultural, social, and personal identity, with non-resident members periodically visiting to renew social ties and personal identities at an annual pow wow and other events. The recent rise of indigenous pride has raised the salience of Indian affiliations, and for some there is also a greater expectation that material rewards (e.g. casinoderived benefits) may be obtained through these connections. 5. The assertion by tribes of their cultural rights provokes strong opposition because it directly challenges assumptions and expectations of the dominant society regarding Indians and its presumed prerogatives over them. 6. As of mid-2000, there are 558 federally recognized Indian tribes and communities in the USA and 630 in Canada. Not included are groups currently unrecognized, or recognized only at a non-federal level. 7. The text of the Draft Declaration on the rights of indigenous peoples, under continuing debate and revision within the United Nations Working Group on Indigenous Populations, can be readily obtained on numerous internet sites. One example is the website of the Center for World Indigenous Studies (http://www.cwis.org/drft9329.html). 8. Although concern about vanishing languages is intense and widespread, and

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9. 10.

11.

12. 13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

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Cultural Dynamics 14(2) often reflected in on-reservation preservation programs, thus far there is scant evidence that the erosion of viable speech communities of tribal languages has been halted. Quoted from the website of the HCPO under ‘Intellectual Property Rights’ at http://www.nau.edu/~hcpo-p/ This is illustrated by many efforts to reinvigorate ceremonials, to use autochthonous languages more widely, to preserve sacred and historically significant places, to create reference archives of oral history, to recoup alienated lands, to insist on treaty-conferred rights, to assume full management of a reservation’s social and natural resources by tribal government, and many other initiatives. The surprisingly widespread trend to establish tribally run museums also appears to reflect this concern. NAGPRA, the Native American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act, became law in 1990. The principal architect of the political process was the Indian-led Native American Rights Fund. The text of NAGPRA is readily available; a copy is provided in Pritzker, 1999: 255–67. The obligation covers all American Indian objects over which the museum has ‘right of possession’. Thus, items on loan, owned by others, are exempt. Several legal points are in dispute. The archaeologist principally associated with the Kennewick bones may contend that the bones were not ‘excavated’, though most appear to have been recovered by screen sifting of river sand (see Downey, 2000: 23, 24, 26). Also, although the archaeologist’s permit, belatedly secured, specified that ‘No Indian grave . . . may be investigated without permission of the governing council of Indians’, the archaeologist may argue that it was not completely clear at the time that the bones were from an Indian person (Downey, 2000: 27–8), and, indeed, that until Kennewick is determined, through extensive scientific research, to be American Indian, NAGPRA’s provisions do not govern. The struggle over Kennewick has generated a very large group of publications. The reader may find Downey (2000) and Thomas (2000) comprehensively researched and important sources. The Pequot concede that important elements of their ceremonial life, which largely ended with their massacre by colonists in 1638, may never be recoverable. Consequently, through tribally sponsored historical and archaeological research, and by developing aesthetic models from an annual dance competition they sponsor, the Pequots have indicated that they will create a contemporary repertoire in lieu of the lost ceremonial customs. The ‘special privileges’ claim was, for example, the political maxim of opponents to California’s referendum on Indian casinos (which passed) in the year 2000, and of those in various states who oppose tobacco and fuel sales on reservations free of state taxes. It has also been prominent in resistance to expansion of Indian rights to game fish in Minnesota and fish and shellfish harvesting in the Puget Sound area of Washington State. The US government maintains a roster of tribal groups it ‘recognizes’ and an exacting review system for adding or subtracting groups from the list. A host of political, legal, and material rights and resources are linked to recognition. There is some indication that some urban-dwelling, enrolled Indians in the USA would now disagree that the reservation is a homeland, and that the

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20.

21. 22. 23.

24. 25. 26.

27. 28. 29.

30. 31. 32.

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Indian presence in cities is simply a satellite of the reservation. In this view, the reservation remains essential as a communicational and governance locus, but is not indispensable to the valid persistence of tribal culture among permanent urban Indian communities. The voices arguing to expand BIA programs and even federal recognition for urban-dwelling Indians appear to reflect a growing sense of cultural self-sufficiency among some urban Indians (cf. WeibelOrlando, 1991). Congress and the Truman and Eisenhower administrations of the late 1940s and 1950s attempted to slash the number of federally recognized tribes and the associated federal obligations through resolving land claims, fostering outmigration from reservations, and unilaterally dissolving tribes. Some of the tribes that had been terminated have since been reinscribed. See Rawls, 1996: 45–60; Castile, 1992: 180. Reservations once established were then sharply reduced in size, especially through the 1877 Indian Allotment Act (also known as the Dawes Act) and subsequent federal measures, by often unscrupulous land sales, and by states which illegally ignored federal permission to make land deals with local Indian tribes. Court cases stemming from allegedly illegal state land acquisitions involving the Oneida, Mohawk, Cayuga, and Seneca are major political issues in central New York State. For figures on the sharp decline of tribal commercial fishery income, 1985–99, see Lummi Natural Resources Dept et al., 2001: section 2.0. For more on the Lummi water disputes, see Greaves, 1998; Russo, 2002. The United Nations Draft Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples voices this principle in Article 29: ‘Indigenous peoples have the right to determine and develop priorities and strategies for the development or use of their lands, territories and other resources, including the right to require that States obtain their free and informed consent prior to the approval of any project affecting their lands, territories and other resources, particularly in connection with the development, utilization or exploitation of mineral, water or other resources’ (Ewen, 1994: 170–1). See, for example, Mapes, 2000. I am grateful for information from Jennifer Sepez clarifying the Elwha case. For a useful account of the Kinzua Dam dispossession see Josephy, 1982: 127–50. Since the 1988 passage of IGRA, federal court decisions have led many states to require that the state legislature, as well as the governor, approve IGRA compacts, thus further broadening a tribe’s involvement with state government. See Anders, 1999: 169–70. Estimates vary. This figure, attributed to Tim Giago, appears in Peterka, 1999. Press release, Estate of T’sunke Witko, ‘One Brewing Company settles lawsuit with the family of Crazy Horse and Rosebud Sioux Tribe’, Rosebud, SD (no date, about April 2001). See also Gough, 1996. From the Museum’s website (http://www.nmai.si.edu/musinfo/index.html). See CBS News, 2000; Maas, 2001. One exception is the use of words or marks that would lead a consumer to believe that an art or craft item was made by a member of an Indian tribe when that is false. Indigenous intellectual property rights now are the subject of a

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33.

34. 35.

36.

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Cultural Dynamics 14(2) large literature. Readers may find Greaves (1994) and Brush and Stabinski (1996) useful beginning points. Many other laws and legal considerations apply, usually against Indian interests, to various items and circumstances. For an initial review of some of the complexities, see Greaves, 1994: 5–10. See, for example, Melmer, 1996; Little Eagle, 1993. An easily accessible example of these requirements, issued by the Hopi Cultural Preservation Office, can be found at the following pages of its website (www.nau.edu/~hcpo-p/hcpo/resinter.htm and www.nau.edu/~hcpop/hcpo/ index.html#intent). There are, of course, further criteria. For example, the enclaved group needs a number of resources and capabilities of its own, and to be able to pursue its rights within the dominant society’s legal system with at least the hope of a fair outcome within the scope and institutions of dominant society law.

REFERENCES Anders, Gary C. (1999) ‘Indian Gambling: Financial and Regulatory Issues’, in T. Johnson (ed.) Contemporary Native American Political Issues, pp. 163–73. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press. Boyle, James (1996) Shamans, Software, and Spleens: Law and the Construction of the Information Society. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Brush, Steven and Doreen Stabinsky, eds (1996) Valuing Local Knowledge, Indigenous People and Intellectual Property Rights. Washington, DC: Island Press. Castile, George Pierre (1992) ‘Indian Sign: Hegemony and Symbolism in Federal Indian Policy’, in George P. Castile and Robert Bee (eds) State and Reservation: New Perspectives on Federal Indian Policy, pp. 165–86. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. CBS News (2000) ‘Broken Promises’ (60 Minutes segment), Burrelle’s Information Services 31(82) (2 April). Downey, Roger (2000) Riddle of the Bones; Politics, Science, Race, and the Story of Kennewick Man. New York: Springer-Verlag. Ewen, Alexander, ed. (1994) Voice of Indigenous Peoples: Native People Address the United Nations. Santa Fe, NM: Clearlight Publishers. Fixico, Donald L. (2000) The Urban Indian Experience. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Giago, Tim (1992) ‘My Turn: I Hope the Redskins Lose’, Newsweek (26 Jan.): 8. Gough, Robert P. (1996) ‘Cultural Appropriation and Laws of Property’, Tressa Berman (organizer), ‘Beyond the Museum, Cultural Appropriation and Laws of Property’, Annual Meeting, American Anthropological Association, San Francisco. Greaves, Tom, ed. (1994) Intellectual Property Rights for Indigenous Peoples: A Sourcebook. Oklahoma City: Society for Applied Anthropology. Greaves, Tom (1995) ‘Cultural Rights and Ethnography’, General Anthropology 1(2): 1, 3–6. Greaves, Tom (1996) ‘Tribal Rights’, in S. Brush and D. Stabinsky (eds) Valuing Local Knowledge, pp. 25–40. Washington, DC: Island Press.

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Greaves, Tom (1998) ‘Water Rights in the Pacific Northwest’, in John Donahue and Barbara Johnston (eds) Water, Culture and Power, pp. 35–46. Washington, DC: Island Press. Jemison, G. Peter (1997) ‘Who Owns the Past?’, in N. Swidler, K. Dongoske, R. Anyon and A. Downer (eds) Native Americans and Archaeologists; Stepping Stones to Common Ground, pp. 57–63. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press. Josephy, Alvin M., Jr (1982) Now that the Buffalo’s Gone: A Study of Today’s American Indians. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press. Little Eagle, Avis (1993) ‘ “ Deer Tribe” Move Brings Protest’, Indian Country Today (14 Jan.): 1. Lummi Natural Resources Department et al. (2001) ‘Environmental Assessment, Lummi Nation Casino Project’. Bellingham, WA: Lummi Indian Nation (unpublished document, available at www.lummi-nation.bia.edu/natural/natdoc). Lyons, Oren (1994) ‘Address of Oren Lyons’, in A. Ewen (ed.) Voice of Indigenous Peoples: Native Peoples Address the United Nations. Santa Fe, NM: Clearlight Publishers. Maas, Peter (2001) ‘The Broken Promise’, Washington Post, Parade Magazine (9 Sept.): 4–6. Mapes, Lynda V. (2000) ‘Days are Numbered for Fish-Killing Dams on Elwha River’, Seattle Times (11 Feb.). Masters, Brooke A. (1999) ‘Redskins Lose Right to Trademark Protection’, Washington Post (3 April): A1. Melmer, David (1996) ‘Plastic Indians’, Indian Country Today (26 Aug.–2 Sept.): A3. Mihesuah, Devon A. (1996) American Indians, Stereotypes and Realities. Atlanta, GA: Clarity Press. Pérez-Peña, Richard (2001) ‘Gold Rush in New York: Companies Vie for a Stake in the Untapped Gambling Market’, New York Times (17 Dec.): A19. Peterka, Jennifer (1999) ‘Indians are People, Not Mascots’, Indian Country Today (5 May): B1. Posey, Darrell A. and Graham Dutfield (1996) Beyond Intellectual Property: Toward Traditional Resource Rights for Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities. Ottawa: International Development Research Centre. Pritzker, Barry M. (1999) Native America Today: A Guide to Community Politics and Culture. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO. Rawls, James (1996) Chief Red Fox is Dead: A History of Native Americans since 1945. Fort Worth, TX: Harcourt Brace. Riding In, James (2000) ‘Repatriation: A Pawnee’s Perspective’, in D. Mihesuah (ed.) Repatriation Reader: Who Owns American Indian Remains?, pp. 106–20. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press. Russo, Kurt (2002) ‘A Call to Witness: The Lummi Indians of the Pacific Northwest’, in Tom Greaves (ed.) Endangered Peoples of North America, pp. 97–116. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Shammel, Wayne and David J. Stephenson (2001) ‘Protecting American Intellectual Property in the Twenty-First Century: The Case of the Cow Creek Tribe and Indian Motorcycle’, Cultural Survival Quarterly (Winter): 51–3. Snipp, C. Matthew (1989) American Indians: The First of this Land. New York: Russell Sage.

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Thomas, David Hurst (2000) Skull Wars: Kennewick Man, Archeology, and the Battle for Native American Identity. New York: Basic Books. Weibel-Orlando, Joan (1991) Indian Country, L.A.: Maintaining Ethnic Community in Complex Society. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE DR TOM GREAVES is professor of anthropology at Bucknell University, USA. Editor of Endangered Peoples of North America (Greenwood, 2002), and Intellectual Property Rights for Indigenous Peoples (Soc. for Applied Anthropology, 1994), Greaves writes extensively on contemporary indigenous cultural struggle and human rights, particularly with respect to North America. Address: Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Bucknell University, Lewisburg, PA 17837, USA. [email: [email protected]]