Archaeological site tours are a common form of public outreach, but are they done as well as possible? Do they convey the information that is intended and are they effective in teaching about archaeology, culture, professionalism, and ethics? Over the years, I’ve been asked by cultural resource management (CRM) firms and university anthropology department field school directors for information on how to construct and give site tours. In the past, responding to this request meant cobbling together information from various sources and adding commentary. The intent of this article is to bring all of that information, along with 25-plus years of experience, together into one comprehensive narrative with the intention of providing guidance for those who have trepidations about offering site tours as a form of public outreach.

Culturally significant landscapes, which evoke and promote strong feelings of attachment among their constituencies and advocates, pose a management challenge for federal agencies. Current cultural resources laws and policies focus largely on the physical characteristics of individual sites and features. I call here for a management approach that differs from current practice in several important ways. First, it recognizes the power of landscapes and landscape character. Drawing from both wilderness and park management, it calls for the identification and preservation of landscape characteristics, and the development of landscape-level inventories that can identify current landscape condition. Finally, it recognizes that how a landscape is experienced by its constituencies and advocates is a measure of management effectiveness. For management to succeed, management approaches must recognize and respect the core values and experiences that are at the heart of culturally significant landscapes.

In 2006, the World Bank's private sector lending arm, the International Finance Corporation (IFC), introduced eight Environmental and Social Performance Standards (PSs) to define IFC clients’ responsibilities for managing their environmental and social risks, including those related to cultural heritage. Since their introduction, the PSs have evolved into a de facto global standard that other development banks and many private sector banks, insurers, and development proponents have voluntarily adopted to help manage their own risk exposure. Although the widespread adoption of such policies can be viewed positively as a reflection of good governance, the PSs were never designed with this purpose in mind. This article traces the development of cultural heritage policy within the World Bank Group, then critically examines the IFC PSs as they relate to cultural heritage, drawing attention to the elements in need of revision to better reflect internationally recognized good practice for the management of cultural heritage. Equally important, we recommend the development and implementation of a bespoke cultural heritage framework for the private sector.

Many Indigenous groups in Taiwan, including the Bunun, inhabited remote mountainous regions. Beginning in the 1930s, all mountain settlements were relocated to lower-lying areas by the colonial authorities. These groups lost the territories where they used to hunt, practice slash-and-burn agriculture, and carry out other social and cultural practices. Having being separated from their ancestral lands for decades, their knowledge of their former settlements and traditional ways of life is gradually disappearing. In recent years, there is a tendency among the younger generation of Indigenous people to organize and participate in roots-seeking expeditions. As their knowledge about the former settlements is limited, they seek help from the elderly—and archaeologists. Since 2014, I have collaborated with Bunun communities, recording their ancestors’ lands in the Lakulaku River Basin by joining archaeological surveys on roots-seeking trips. During these surveys, I had to learn Bunun values and gain knowledge of the Lakulaku River Basin via the bodily experience of moving through and being in the landscape with its traditional inhabitants. By applying remote-sensing technologies such as airborne lidar in our surveys, our team managed to identify and record settlements that were unfamiliar to the Bunun.

The objective of this article is to share how professional archaeologists can leverage their knowledge and influence to develop collectors and amateur archaeologists into responsible and responsive stewards (RRS). This approach furthers the primary purposes of the National Historic Preservation Act as well as the ethics of the Society for American Archaeology. I share my own journey about finding artifacts in the Texas Panhandle, yearning to understand more about them, and how a poster in a gas station led me to visiting a local Stone Age Fair where I met a professional archaeologist. This archaeologist mentor was willing to answer my questions and guide me to greater understanding of archaeological ethics and practice, which prompted me to document everything I had found. In turn, I have shared my experience with many other nonprofessionals. Archaeologist mentors can have great influence if they are willing to meet collectors and amateur archaeologists on their level. Ultimately, collectors and archaeologists share a love of artifacts and a passion for the history behind them.

Formal archaeological publication is unimaginative in its use of images, and often the images used do not best serve the text. The result is that text and image poorly relate. But graphic formats that establish an interrelationship between text and image can be used to create new layers of richness. One such example is the use of comics. In order to illustrate how the visualization principles of comics can be used to re-shape formal archaeological publication, the author presents an adaptation of the first three pages of “Ceramics and Polity” by Michael Whalen and Paul Minnis, originally published in American Antiquity. The use of similar visualization principles opens up the possibility of new kinds of professional, interdisciplinary, and peer-to-peer narratives. The article is in the form of a 10-page comic.

In the United States, deaccessioning is a poorly understood collections management tool. Archaeologists often view deaccessioning with what Robert Sonderman called “primal fear,” and this fear has caused them to overlook the opportunities that deaccessioned artifacts and collections may provide in the area of public archaeology education. Although deaccessioning without checks and balances can be problematic, when done properly and ethically, it offers previously untapped resources to the creation of educational programming, such as teaching trunk programs. This article discusses the process of deaccessioning and suggests that deaccessioned artifacts may be useful as content for teaching trunk programs. We discuss a case study from our own institution, where we implemented a trunk program in 2016 that was largely stocked with material from a deaccession we had performed the previous year. We also offer suggestions for anyone wishing to implement a similar program.

In Mexico, archaeological heritage belongs to all members of society, according to section XXV of Article 73 of the Mexican Constitution and Article 27 of the federal law on monuments and archaeological sites. The Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia (INAH) was founded in 1939 as a federal government agency for the research, protection, and dissemination of archaeological heritage. Although this heritage belongs to all, stringent rules and procedures create an unequal relationship between career professionals and the diverse communities interested in the past (i.e., collectors, local museums, descendant communities). It is long due to begin practicing an inclusive archaeology that considers all the various knowledge systems (i.e., academic, technical, local, and traditional) of the communities interested in the past. Here, we describe case studies from Sonora, Mexico, to propose the implementation of several far-reaching activities with artifact collectors, Indigenous communities, researchers, archaeologists, and INAH Sonora authorities. Our pilot proposal needs to be implemented in other areas of Mexico that continue to prioritize archaeological narratives over other narratives about our past.

I discuss my experiences using archaeology and anthropology to teach college-level students how to be interdisciplinary thinkers and doers. Although the number of students who complete archaeology and anthropology degrees is relatively small in the United States and worldwide, programs and courses in such fields offer any student important opportunities in active, interdisciplinary learning that contribute to effective problem-solving using multiple lines of information. Courses and learning activities can question stereotypes depicting archaeology as a “useless” discipline (Arendt 2013:79), and they can prepare students to engage in and adapt to countless personal and professional situations while also learning about archaeology, its benefits, and its potential for relationships with similar and different fields. Therefore, the active learning of multimethod, interdisciplinary archaeology can prepare college-level students to address change and uncertainty in their homes, communities, and professions.

For over 40 years, some archaeologists have labored under a distorted interpretation of the 50-year rule in which anything more than 50 years of age becomes “archaeological” and therefore must be recorded and evaluated for eligibility to the National Register of Historic Places. A reexamination of federal law shows that this is a mistaken interpretation. Data from the Intermountain Antiquities Computer System indicates that, if this practice continues, the number of featureless historical sites requiring documentation in the West will greatly increase at a large expense to the public and that most of these costs will be associated with sites not considered significant in American history, architecture, archaeology, engineering, or culture. Solutions are presented that will give archaeologists greater flexibility in recording material culture more than 50 years of age, allowing us to redirect our efforts to resources of greater interest while making the practice of archaeology more defensible to the public. These problems are symptomatic of a larger issue that relates to how cultural remains from the latter part of the twentieth century and beyond will be valued. The discipline of archaeology must begin candid conversations about the relative importance of such recent material culture and its management implications.

Over the past few years our body politic has become increasingly polarized: Republicans versus Democrats, conservatives versus liberals. That polarization filters down to governmental actions, policies, and decisions, evidenced in disagreements over regulation versus deregulation and fossil fuels versus renewable energy. Such polarization—whether legislative, administrative, or judicial and whether at the federal, state, or tribal level—can and does impact the management of our archaeological resources and the way cultural resource management is practiced in the United States. Given that most archaeologists in the United States are employed in cultural resource management, these actions affect their employment. Consequently, it is more critical than ever that archaeologists become cultural resource management and historic preservation advocates. This article discusses the whys and hows of preservation advocacy. Active, science-based advocacy by preservationists can engage governmental decision-makers to give due consideration to cultural resources and their management when making decisions or drafting and voting on legislation. Although the discussion focuses on advocacy at the federal level, the observations and suggestions are applicable at the state and local level.

This article presents a case study of the process of developing and implementing mitigation as the result of adverse effects to cultural resources from the drawdown of Lake Cumberland, Kentucky. Signs of a dam failure in early 2007 triggered the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Corps) to implement the emergency drawdown. While the drawdown prevented a life safety catastrophe, it created a new erosion zone and exposed archaeological sites to looters. When it became clear that conventional Section 106 procedures to identify and evaluate these endangered archaeological resources were not an option, alternative and creative mitigation became a necessary approach for the Corps to meet its obligations under the National Historic Preservation Act. This article discusses the creative brainstorming among the Corps, Kentucky state historic preservation officer, and tribes that led to three alternative mitigation measures aimed at educational outreach, raising public awareness, and staff training. Furthermore, the article identifies challenges encountered during the implementation of the mitigation measures. Through the presentation of our mitigation journey, we share some of our lessons learned to improve awareness of the challenges and successes one may encounter during the execution of such alternative measures.

The use of programming languages in archaeological research has witnessed a notable surge in the last decade, particularly with R, a versatile statistical computing language that fosters the development of specialized packages. This article introduces the tesselle project (https://www.tesselle.org/), a comprehensive collection of R packages tailored for archaeological research and education. The tesselle packages are centered on quantitative analysis methods specifically crafted for archaeology. They are designed to complement both general-purpose and other specialized statistical packages. These packages serve as a versatile toolbox, facilitating the exploration and analysis of common data types in archaeology—such as count data, compositional data, or chronological data—and enabling the construction of reproducible workflows. Complementary packages for visualization, data preparation, and educational resources augment the tesselle ecosystem. This article outlines the project's inception, its objectives, design principles, and key components, along with reflections on future directions.

The Bolivar Archaeological Project exemplifies the possibilities of archaeology as service, incorporating descendant communities and local stakeholders into the fabric of the research design and planning for a state infrastructure project. This collaborative, multidisciplinary project attends to marginalized histories to offer a model for how publicly funded cultural resources management archaeology can serve multiple goals. The Bolivar Archaeological Project was conceived as a public archaeology project, with dual goals of being community driven and yielding scholarly contributions. In the shifting rural–urban landscape of Denton County, a Texas Department of Transportation road improvement project has supported archaeological investigations of two nineteenth-century sites—a blacksmith shop and hotel—associated with the historic Chisholm Trail. The blacksmith shop belonged to Tom Cook, an African American freedman, whose descendants reside nearby and became active participants in the investigations, including as collaborative authors in this article. The project illustrates the importance of representation and praxis to realize inclusive community engagement, with this article outlining the development of the project and ongoing research. Informed by Black feminist archaeologies, the project works at the intersections of local communities and state infrastructure while navigating landscapes of fraught histories and presents to forge an archaeology for the twenty-first century.

Precolumbian Maya graffiti is challenging to document because it is complex, multilayered, and difficult to see with the naked eye. In the Maya Lowlands, precolumbian graffiti occurs as etched palimpsests on parts of substructures such as stucco walls of residences, palaces, and temples that are frequently only accessible through dark and narrow tunnel excavations. Experienced iconographers or epigraphers with advanced drawing skills are the most qualified researchers to accurately record, analyze, and interpret precolumbian Maya graffiti. Because these scholars have a vast knowledge of conventions and styles from multiple time periods and sites, they are less likely to document the complex and seemingly chaotic incisions incorrectly. But as with many specialists in Maya archaeology, iconographers and epigraphers are not always available to collaborate in the field. This raises the question, how might an archaeologist without advanced training in iconography accurately record graffiti in subterranean excavations? Advances in digital applications of archaeological field recording have opened new avenues for documenting graffiti. One of these is Reflectance Transformation Imaging (RTI), a method that uses a moving light source and photography in order to visualize, interact with, and analyze a three-dimensional object in a two-dimensional image. With practice, RTI images can easily be produced in the field and later shared with specialists for the purposes of analysis and interpretation. Performed on a series of 20 unique graffiti from the Maya archaeological site of Holtun (two examples are presented here), RTI shows promise as a viable technique for documenting and preserving graffiti as cultural heritage.

In the province of Ontario, Canada, it is estimated that 80% of archaeological sites are Indigenous, yet there are very few Indigenous archaeologists involved in management and decision-making about Indigenous heritage. Systemic barriers, particularly around licensing and regulations for curatorial facilities, continue to prevent Indigenous people from directly managing and protecting their own cultural heritage. Recognizing that Indigenous communities in northeastern Ontario have had little exposure or opportunity to learn about archaeology, for several years we have been involved in educational programs to train Indigenous youth, staff in First Nations government offices, and others. We illustrate with two examples: the monitor training program undertaken in northeastern Ontario and a project to catalog artifacts from the legacy collection from the La Cloche site.

In much of the Western world, collaborative research undertaken by settler archaeologists readily lends itself, at least in part, to a continuation of the colonial project. Yet, against this backdrop, Australia's First Nations’ peoples continue to work with researchers and to drive systemic change in research practice. Community-engaged archaeology, defined here as codeveloped studies of ancestral places (following Schaepe et al. 2017), is directed to improving relationships between Indigenous peoples and archaeologists. Even so, the practice of archaeology with and for nonsettler communities remains underdeveloped with regard to institutional priorities and funding agency bureaucracies. Here, we (Mirarr Traditional Owners, Mirarr employees, and settler archaeologist researchers) reflect on these issues as part of our ongoing research on the ochres and bim (rock art) of the well-known Madjedbebe rockshelter in the Alligator Rivers region, Northern Territory, Australia.

The Office of the Wyoming State Archaeologist has as one of its main objectives to actively engage the population of Wyoming in archaeological stewardship. To achieve this goal, in the past five years, we have launched the youth-oriented Summer Ventures program and the adult-oriented Wyoming Avocational Archaeology Training Program. Both programs were inspired by existing programs in other parts of the country and were launched following research and target audience surveys on how to best adapt them to Wyoming. Despite this preliminary research, our in-field experiences over the past few years have shown some patterns that are causing us to rethink both programs. This article discusses these initial in-field testing years, the issues we have encountered, and the ways we are redesigning both programs to better target the appropriate audiences in light of the different lifestyles of populations, particularly those of youths, in a rural state.

This study reports water capacity estimates for four reservoirs within the Classic Maya city of El Perú-Waka’, Guatemala. Combining field survey, soil analysis, and a variety of GIS interpolation methods, it illustrates ways to more fully quantify a challenging resource—water—and its availability using an interdisciplinary approach. This is accomplished by comparing surface interpolation methods for estimating reservoir capacities to demonstrate that most provide reliable estimates. Reported estimates are further enhanced by analyzing internal reservoir soil morphology to better understand and quantify formation processes and refine estimates from field survey. These analyses document a multiscalar organization to water management within the Waka’ urban core that likely ran the gamut from individuals up to civic and state institutions. Although intricacies remain to be fully elucidated, this example offers an alternate path to theorizing about water management practices from traditional binary approaches.