Prophets and Ghosts by Samuel J. Redman

Now and again I read a book that makes me rethink how I teach my United States history courses. Samuel J. Redman’s Prophets and Ghosts: The Story of Salvage Anthropology is one of those books. I have to admit that over the years the attention I’ve given to the various Native American peoples and cultures has been somewhat lacking. This admitted shortcoming in my approach to teaching US History is fortunately changing…after all, teaching is dynamic work - and I am always happy to course correct when necessary. So…with all that, I will be using this book in a number of ways.

For starters, Redman’s work informs a valuable discussion about the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century intersection of scholarship and objectification…especially as it concerns what Redman identifies as the “myth of the vanishing Indian.” It seems that anthropologists, concerned with losing the people and the material evidence of indigenous cultures, sought to catalogue these cultures as they disappeared before the inexorable spread of European-American settlement - and all that said settlement implied.

Redman’s thoroughly and meticulously researched and beautifully written story kept me awake at night. In all honesty I found myself deeply conflicted about what I learned. I mean, efforts to collect the evidence of indigenous cultures and curate a narrative for display in museums indeed preserved elements of a peoples’ material culture: artifacts - both ordinary and profoundly significant - that helped explain the daily lives, religions, and any number of other things associated with Native Americans. Of course I would say that it was a worthwhile effort to preserve these artifacts.

But there was something far more unsettling here. This period witnessed a popular fascination with Indians (and I use this term in the context of the time) as “curiosities.” Hmmmm. It seems as if scholars caught the curiosity bug as well - and approached their studies to chronicle the peculiarities of Native Americans as they existed before the introduction of western culture and ideals - something that dovetailed well with popular romanticized notions of the so-called “noble savage.” Though they may have had good intentions, their work did much to underscore Native Americans themselves as artifacts - as objects of study.

And this is the big issue here. Those involved in salvage anthropology framed indigenous cultures as static - existing in a sort of unchanging pre-modern bubble with little, if any, vigorous development. And as such, not changing as a result of dynamic exchanges with those from the outside, but rather disappearing along with all things associated with their cultures. But of course cultures are dynamic. Traditions are not static. So what does “preservation” imply here? We might determine that salvage anthropology was, as one scholarly critic suggests, a reflection of anthropologists’ “romantic tendency to view the societies they study as outside the historical processes of modern civilization.” (204)

We might also determine that the progressive impulses to preserve “something” before it vanished resulted in a particularly flawed narrative - one told from the colonizers’ perspective and curated without the sensitivity to those they sought to understand, and thus “save” for posterity.

How all of this happened is without question fascinating, involving the trappings of developing technology (photography, audio recording, and film) alongside progressive politics. Further, while we witness white scholars’ careful curation, we likewise learn how some Native Americans manipulated these scholarly curiosities - at times even contributing to the vanishing Indian narrative. I found this engaging stuff - and naturally it has piqued my interest…especially as it all applies to the study of native cultures in California - I plan on bringing all of this into the classroom in the very near future. Ultimately, Prophets and Ghosts asks us to reconsider the role of the participant observer and perhaps challenge their conclusions. It asks us to consider the ethical questions that arise when seeking to document the personal, the private, and the sacred.

In the end, the book challenges readers to think about how we might right past wrongs. How might we do this? What would this involve? Who would it involve? These are all questions worthy of consideration, so pick up a copy of this book - and let’s discuss.

With compliments,

Keith