The dead gaze back. In museums and archives and libraries across the United States of America, visitors, students, and professionals lock eyes with human skulls gazing out of display cases or records storage. Their gaze passes over femurs and articulated metacarpals. The display of the dead has not been a standard accepted practice between institution and public, often negotiated with rage and frustration in the galleries or not, yet the display of the dead persists in many spaces across the country in the name of public education.
There is a fundamental contradiction between display intent and professional practice, however. Proponents of post-mortem collection and display argue that these human remains are vital educational components for the public. They insist upon the remains’ public value as displays in museums and learning tools in educational programs based upon this innate value. Yet, despite this significance that often is privileged over descendant community wishes, the remains are grossly underrepresented in finding aids and collections records. How is it that these remains, for all their supposed public benefit, are not subject to rigorous ethical standards and transparent record keeping?
I understand that post-mortem inquiry was a vital component of medical research and understanding. But I can also acknowledge that the theft, dissection, and display of said remains runs alongside colonial and genocidal actions that said displays perpetuate in the contemporary museum or archive.
The lack of transparency on websites, collections, and other communications between these institutions and the public is a glaring ethical omission in the humanities sector. While individual organizations and institutions often have their own statements regarding the treatment of human remains in their collections, the lack of a sweeping authoritative statement regarding their care and display has allowed post-mortem abuses to persist. One such example is the MOVE bombing victims remains in the Penn Museum, where because they were un-accessioned the maltreatment on the part of Penn anthropologists and students is technically within ethical practice according to Penn Museum standards. It begs the question, how many other human remains remain in limbo outside of descendant communities because there was no professional imperative to accession the remains? How do we hold professionals accountable when research is often viewed as worthy over the impact of the loss or, worse, ignorant?
There has been progress with the treatment of the dead and the proper care for them within NAGPRA, or the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, wherein descendent communities from federally recognized tribes can reclaim remains for care. Yet Native Americans are not the only groups targeted by the violence of anatomical collection and dissection in the United States, made apparent by the recent discoveries within the Samuel George Morton Collection at the University of Pennsylvania, which earlier this year confirmed the skulls of Black Philadelphians were part of the collection.
Before all this though, there needs to be a national inquiry into the status of post-mortem remains in the United States’ museums, archives, libraries, and universities. Put simply, anatomical collections and remains related to such inquiries cannot be extracted or removed from the violent reality of American history. The unknown status of an unspecified number of remains in American museums should be a motivation for reckoning and redress.
Such a commission and inquiry would no doubt illuminate the status of post-mortem collections in the United States, painting a more coherent picture of the relationship between power and the dead, violence and display. At the very least, it is a much needed act of professionalism for the humanities sector.
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